======================================================================== WRITINGS OF J P LANGE - VOLUME 1 by J.P. Lange ======================================================================== A collection of theological writings, sermons, and essays by J.P. Lange (Volume 1), compiled for study and devotional reading. Chapters: 100 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TABLE OF CONTENTS ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 1. 00.00. Lange, J. P. - Library 2. 01.1. LANGE'S COMMENTARY ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURE 3. 01.2. Theological & Homiletical Introduction to OT 4. 01.3. Theological & Homiletical Introduction to OT - Part 2 5. 01.4. Theological and Homiletical Introduction to NT 6. 01.5. Poetical Books Intro with Emphasis on Job 7. 01.6. Job Rhythmical Version 8. 01.7. Metrical Version of Koheleth 9. 01.8. Malachi New Metrical Translation 10. 02.001. The Life of the Lord Jesus Christ 11. 02.002. Table of CONTENTS 12. 02.003. First Book 13. 02.004. PART I 14. 02.005. Section I 15. 02.006. Section II 16. 02.007. Section III 17. 02.008. Section IV 18. 02.009. Section V 19. 02.010. Section VI 20. 02.011. PART II 21. 02.012. Section I 22. 02.013. Section II 23. 02.014. Section III 24. 02.015. Section IV 25. 02.016. Section V 26. 02.017. PART III 27. 02.018. Section I 28. 02.019. Section II 29. 02.020. PART IV 30. 02.021. Section I 31. 02.022. Section II 32. 02.023. Section III 33. 02.024. Section IV 34. 02.025. Section V 35. 02.026. Section VI 36. 02.027. Section VII 37. 02.028. PART V 38. 02.029. Section I 39. 02.030. Section II 40. 02.031. Section III 41. 02.032. Section IV 42. 02.033. Section V 43. 02.034. PART VI 44. 02.035. Section I 45. 02.036. Section II 46. 02.037. Section III 47. 02.038. PART VII 48. 02.039. Section I 49. 02.040. Section II 50. 02.041. Second Book 51. 02.042. Section I 52. 02.043. Section II 53. 02.044. PART I 54. 02.045. Section I 55. 02.046. Section II 56. 02.047. PART II 57. 02.048. Section I 58. 02.049. Section II 59. 02.050. Section III 60. 02.051. Section IV 61. 02.052. Section V 62. 02.053. Section VI 63. 02.054. Section VII 64. 02.055. Section VIII 65. 02.056. Section IX 66. 02.057. Section X 67. 02.058. Section XI 68. 02.059. Section XII 69. 02.060. Section XIII 70. 02.061. Part III 71. 02.062. Section I 72. 02.063. Section II 73. 02.064. Section III 74. 02.065. Section IV 75. 02.066. Section V 76. 02.067. Section VI 77. 02.068. Section VII 78. 02.069. Section VIII 79. 02.070. Section IX 80. 02.071. Section X 81. 02.072. Section XI 82. 02.085. Part IV 83. 02.086. Section I 84. 02.087. Section II 85. 02.088. Section III 86. 02.089. Section IV 87. 02.090. Section V 88. 02.091. Section VI 89. 02.092. Section VII 90. 02.093. Section VIII 91. 02.094. Section IX 92. 02.095. Section X 93. 02.096. Section XI 94. 02.097. Section XII 95. 02.098. Section XIII 96. 02.099. Section XIV 97. 02.100. Section XV 98. 02.101. Section XVI 99. 02.102. Section XVII 100. 02.103. Part V ======================================================================== CHAPTER 1: 00.00. LANGE, J. P. - LIBRARY ======================================================================== Lange, J. P. - Library Lange, J. P. - Commentary Supplement Lange, J. P. - The Life of the Lord Jesus Christ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 2: 01.1. LANGE'S COMMENTARY ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURE ======================================================================== LANGE’S COMMENTARY ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURE by JOHN PETER LANGE, D. D. Professor Of Theology At The University Of Bonn TRANSLATED FROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS ORIGINAL AND SELECTED, By PHILIP SCHAFF, D.D. PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION THE BIBLE The Bible is the book of life, written for the instruction and edification of all ages and nations. No man who has felt its divine beauty and power, would exchange this one volume for all the literature of the world. Eternity alone can unfold the extent of its influence for good. The Bible, like the person and work of our Saviour, is theanthropic in its character and aim. The eternal personal Word of God “was made flesh,” and the whole fulness of the Godhead and of sinless manhood were united in one person forever. So the spoken word of God may be said to have become flesh in the Bible. It is therefore all divine, and yet all human, from beginning to end. Through the veil of the letter we behold the glory of the eternal truth of God. The divine and human in the Bible sustain a similar relation to each other, as in the person of Christ: they are unmixed, yet inseparably united, and constitute but one life, which kindles life in the heart of the believer. Viewed merely as a human or literary production, the Bible is a marvellous book, and without a rival. All the libraries of theology, philosophy, history, antiquities, poetry, law and policy would not furnish material enough for so rich a treasure of the choicest gems of human genius, wisdom, and experience. It embraces works of about forty authors, representing the extremes of society, from the throne of the king to the boat of the fisherman; it was written during a long period of sixteen centuries, on the banks of the Nile, in the desert of Arabia, in the land of promise, in Asia Minor, in classical Greece, and in imperial Rome; it commences with the creation and ends with the final glorification, after describing all the intervening stages in the revelation of God and the spiritual development of man; it uses all forms of literary composition; it rises to the highest heights and descends to the lowest depths of humanity; it measures all states and conditions of life; it is acquainted with every grief and every woe; it touches every chord of sympathy; it contains the spiritual biography of every human heart; it is suited to every class of society, and can be read with the same interest and profit by the king and the beggar, by the philosopher and the child; it is as universal as the race, and reaches beyond the Limits of time into the boundless regions of eternity. Even this matchless combination of human excellencies points to its divine character and origin, as the absolute perfection of Christ’s humanity is an evidence of His divinity. But the Bible is first and last a book of religion. It presents the only true, universal, and absolute religion of God, both in its preparatory process or growth under the dispensation of the law and the promise, and in its completion under the dispensation of the gospel, a religion which is intended ultimately to absorb all the other religions of the world. It speaks to us as immortal beings on the highest, noblest, and most important themes which can challenge our attention, and with an authority that is absolutely irresistible and overwhelming. It can instruct, edify, warn, terrify, appease, cheer, and encourage as no other book. It seizes man in the hidden depths of his intellectual and moral constitution, and goes to the quick of the soul, to that mysterious point where it is connected with the unseen world and with the great Father of spirits. It acts like an all-penetrating and all-transforming leaven upon every faculty of the mind and every emotion of the heart. It enriches the memory; it elevates the reason; it enlivens the imagination; it directs the judgment; it moves the affections; it controls the passions; it quickens the conscience; it strengthens the will; it kindles the sacred flame of faith, hope, and charity; it purifies, ennobles, sanctifies the whole man, and brings him into living union with God. It can not only enlighten, reform, and improve, but regenerate and create anew, and produce effects which lie far beyond the power of human genius. It has light for the blind, strength for the weak, food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty; it has a counsel in precept or example for every relation in life, a comfort for every sorrow, a balm for every wound. Of all the books in the world, the Bible is the only one of which we never tire, but which we admire and love more and more in proportion as we use it. Like the diamond, it casts its lustre in every direction; like a torch, the more it is shaken, the more it shines; like a healing herb, the harder it is pressed, the sweeter is its fragrance. What an unspeakable blessing, that this inexhaustible treasure of divine truth and comfort is now accessible, without material alteration, to almost every nation on earth in its own tongue, and, in Protestant countries at least, even to the humblest man and woman that can read! Nevertheless we welcome every new attempt to open the meaning of this book of books, which is plain enough to a child, and yet deep enough for the profoundest philosophe and the most comprehensive scholar. EPOCHS OF EXEGESIS The Bible—and this is one of the many arguments for its divine character—has given rise to a greater number of discourses, essays, and commentaries, than any other book or class of books; and yet it is now as far from being exhausted as ever. The strongest and noblest minds, fathers, schoolmen, reformers, and modern critics and scholars of every nation of Christendom, have labored in these mines and brought forth precious ore, and yet they are as rich as ever, and hold out the same inducements of plentiful reward to new miners. The long line of commentators will never break off until faith shall be turned into vision, and the church militant transformed into the church triumphant in heaven. Biblical exegesis, like every other branch of theological science, has its creative epochs and classical periods, followed by periods of comparative rest, when the results gained by the productive labor of the preceding generation are quietly digested and appropriated to the life of the church. There are especially three such classical periods: the patristic, the reformatory, and the modern. The exegesis of the fathers, with the great names of Chrysostom and Theodoret of the Greek, and Jerome and Augustine of the Latin Church, is essentially Catholic; the exegesis of the reformers, as laid down in the immortal biblical works of Luther and Melanch thon, Zwingli and Œcolampadius, Calvin and Beza, is Protestant; the modern exegesis of Germany, England, and America, may be called, in its best form and ruling spirit, Evangelical Catholic. It includes, however, a large variety of theological schools, as represented in the commentaries of Olshausen and Tholuck, Lücke and Bleek, Hengstenberg and Delitzsch, Ewald and Hupfeld, de Wette and Meyer, Lange and Stier, Alford and Ellicott, Stuart and Robinson, Hodge and Alexander, and many others still working with distinguished success. The modern Anglo-German exegesis is less dogmatical, confessional, and polemical than either of its predecessors, but more critical, free, and liberal, more thorough and accurate in all that pertains to philological and antiquarian research; and while it thankfully makes use of the labors of the fathers and reformers, it seems to open the avenue for new developments in the ever-expanding and deepening history of Christ’s kingdom on earth. The patristic exegesis is, to a large extent, the result of a victorious conflict of ancient Christianity with Ebionism, Gnosticism, Arianism, Pelagianism, and other radical heresies, which roused and stimulated the fathers to a vigorous investigation and defence of the truth as laid down in the Scriptures and believed by the Church. The exegesis of the reformers bears on every page the marks of the gigantic war with Romanism and its traditions of men. So the modern evangelical theology of Germany has grown up amidst the changing fortunes of a more than thirty years’ war of Christianity with Rationalism and Pantheism. The future historian will represent this intellectual and spiritual conflict, which is not yet concluded, as one of the most important and interesting chapters in history, and as one of the most brilliant victories of faith over unbelief, of Christian truth over anti-Christian error. The German mind has never, since the Reformation, developed a more intense and persevering activity, both for and against the gospel, than in this period, and if it should fully overcome the modern and most powerful attacks upon Christianity, it will achieve as important a work as the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Former generations have studied the Bible with as much and perhaps more zeal, earnestness, and singleness of purpose, than the present. But never before has it been subjected to such thorough and extensive critical, philological, historical, and antiquarian, as well as theological investigation and research. Never before has it been assailed and defended with more learning, acumen, and perseverance. Never before has the critical apparatus been so ample or so easy of access the most ancient manuscripts of the Bible having been newly discovered, as the Codex Sinaiticus, or more carefully compared and published (some of them in fac-simile), as the Codex Sinaiticus, Vaticanus, Alexandrinus, Ephraemi Syri, and the discoveries and researches of travellers, antiquarians, historians, and chronologers being made tributary to the science of the Book of books. No age has been so productive in commentaries on almost every part of the sacred canon, but more particularly on the Gospels, the Life of Christ, and the Epistles of the New Testament. It is very difficult to keep up with the progress of the German press in this department. One commentary follows another in rapid succession, and the best of them are constantly reappearing in new and improved editions, which render the old ones useless for critical purposes. Still the intense productivity of this period must sooner or later be exhausted, and give way to the more quiet activity of reproduction and application.1 The time has now arrived for the preparation of a comprehensive theological commentary which shall satisfy all the theoretical and practical demands of the evangelical ministry of the present generation, and serve as a complete exegetical library for constant reference: a commentary learned, yet popular, orthodox and sound, yet unsectarian, liberal and truly catholic in spirit and aim; combining with original research the most valuable results of the exegetical labors of the past and the present, and making them available for the practical use of ministers and the general good of the church. Such a commentary can be sucessfully wrought out only at such a fruitful period of Biblical research as the present, and by an association of experienced divines equally distinguished for ripe scholarship and sound piety, and fully competent to act as mediators between the severe science of the professorial chair and the practical duties of the pastoral office. LANGE’S COMMENTARY Such a commentary is the Bibelwerk of Dr. Lange, assisted by a number of distinguished evangelical divines and pulpit orators of Germany, Switzerland, and Holland.2 This work was commenced in 1857, at the suggestion of the publishers, Velhagen and Klasing, in Bielefeld, Prussia, on a plan similar to that of Starke’s Synopsis, which appeared a hundred years ago, and has since been highly prized by ministers and theological students as a rich storehouse of exegetical and homiletical learning, but which is now very rare, and to a large extent antiquated.3 It is to embrace gradually the whole Old and New Testament. The Rev. Dr. John P. Lange, professor of evangelical theology in the University of Bonn, assumed the general editorial supervision; maturing the plan and preparing several parts himself (Matthew, Mark, John, Romans, and Genesis), selecting the assistants and assigning to them their share in the work. It is a very laborious and comprehensive undertaking, which requires a variety of talents, and many years of united labor. It is the greatest literary enterprise of the kind undertaken in the present century. Herzog’s Theological Encyclopœdia, of which the eighteenth volume has just been published (with two volumes of supplements still in prospect), is a similar monument of German learning and industry, and will be, for many years to come, a rich storehouse for theological students. So far the Commentary of Lange has progressed rapidly and steadily, and proved decidedly successful. Even in its present unfinished state, it has already met with a wider circulation than any modern commentary within the same time, and it grows in favor as it advances. The following parts, of the New T., have been published, or are in course of preparation: I. The Gospel according to Matthew, with an Introduction to the whole New Testament. By Dr. John P. Lange, 1857. Second (third) edition revised, 1861. II. The Gospel according to Mark. By Dr. John P. Lange. Second edition revised, 1861. III. The Gospel according to Luke. By Dr. J. J. van Oosterzee, professor of theology at Utrecht. Second edition revised, 1861. IV. The Gospel according to John. By Dr. John P. Lange. Second edition, 1862. V. The Acts of the Apostles. By Prof. Dr. G. Lechler, of Leipzig, and Dean K. Gerok, of Stuttgart. Second edition revised, 1862. VI. The Epistle to the Romans, now in course of preparation by the editor, in connection with his son-in-law, Rev. Mr. Fay, in Crefeld, who assumed the homiletical part. VII. The Epistles to the Corinthians. By the Rev. Dr. Chr. Fr. Kling, 1862. VIII. The Epistle to the Galatians. By the Rev. Otto Schmoller, 1862. IX. The Epistles to the Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians. By Prof. Dr. Dan. Schenkel, of Heidelberg, 1862.4 X. The Epistles to the Thessalonians. By Prof. Drs. C. A. Auberlen and Chr. John Riggenbach, of Basel, 1864. XI. The Pastoral Epistles and The Epistle to Philemon. By Dr. J. J. van Oosterzee, of Utrecht. Second edition revised, 1864. XII. The Epistle to the Hebrews. By Prof. Dr. C. B. Moll, 1861. XIII. The Epistle of James. By Prof. Drs. J. P. Lange and J. J. van Oosterzee, 1862. XIV. The Epistles of Peter and The Epistle of Jude, by Dr. G. F. C. Fronmüller. Second edition revised, 1861. The remaining parts, of the N. T., containing The Epistles of John, and The Revelation, have not yet appeared. Part VI. (on the Epistle to the Romans) and Part XV are, however, in process of preparation, and may be expected within a year. Of the Commentary on The Old Testament, one volume has just been published (1864), which contains a general Introduction to the whole Old Testament, and a commentary on Genesis by the editor. According to a private letter of our esteemed friend, Dr. Lange, the following dispositions have already been made concerning the Old Testament: Deuteronomy. By Rev. Jul. Schröder, of Elberfeld (successor of Dr. F. W. Krummacher as pastor, and author of an excellent practical commentary on Genesis). Joshua. By Rev. Mr. Schneider, rector of the seminary at Bromberg. Judges and Ruth. By Dr. Paulus Cassel, in Berlin. Kings. By Dr. Bähr, in Carlsruhe (author of the celebrated work on the Symbolism of the Mosaic Worship, etc.). The Psalms. By Dr. Moll, general superintendent in Königsberg. Jeremiah. By Rev. Dr. Nägelsbach, of Bayreuth. DR. LANGE The reader will naturally feel some curiosity about the personal history and character of the editor and manager of this great Biblical work, who heretofore has been less known among English readers than many German divines of far inferior talent. Only two of his many works have been brought out in an English dress, and they only quite recently, namely, his Life of Jesus, and parts of his Commentary on the Gospels. Dr. Lange was born on the 10th of April, 1802, on the Bier, a small farm in the parish of Sonnborn, near Elberfeld, in Prussia. His father was a farmer and a wagoner, and brought his son up to the same occupation, but allowed him, at the same time, to indulge his passion for reading. Young Lange often drove the products of the soil to market. He early acquired an enthusiastic love of nature, which revealed to his poetic and pious mind, as in a mirror, the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. He was instructed in the doctrines of the Heidelberg Catechism, which is still in use among the Reformed Churches on the Rhine, although the Lutheran and Reformed Confessions are united in Prussia since 1817 under one government and administration, and bear the name of the United Evangelical Church. His Latin teacher, the Rev. Herrmann Kalthof, who discovered in him unusual talents, induced him to study for the ministry. He attended the Gymnasium (College) of Düsseldorf from Easter, 1821, to autumn, 1822, and the University of Bonn from 1822 to 1825. There he studied mainly under Dr. Nitzsch, the most venerable of the living divines of Germany, who for many years was a strong pillar of evangelical theology in Bonn and subsequently in Berlin. The writings of Nitzsch, though pregnant with deep thoughts and suggestive hints, give but an imperfect idea of his power, which lies chiefly in his pure, earnest, and dignified, yet mild and amiable personal character. He is emphatically a homo gravis, a Protestant church-father, who, by his genius, learning, and piety, commands the respect of all theological schools and ecclesiastical parties. After passing through the usual examination, Lange labored from 1825 to 1826 in the quiet but very pleasant town of Langenberg, near Elberfeld, as assistant minister to the Rev. Emil Krummacher (a brother of the celebrated Dr. Frederic William Krummacher, who wrote the sermons on Elijah the Tishbite, and other popular works). From thence he was called to the pastoral charge of Wald, near Solingen, where he remained from 1826 to 1828. In 1832 he removed as pastor to Duisburg, and began to attract public attention by a series of brilliant articles in Hengstenberg’s Evangelical Church Gazette and other periodicals, also by poems, sermons, and a very able work on the history of the infancy of our Saviour, against Strauss’s Life of Jesus. In 1841 he was called to the University of Zürich, in Switzerland, as professor of theology in the place of the notorious Strauss, who had been appointed by the radical and infidel administration of that Canton, but was prevented from taking possession of the chair by a religious and political revolution of the people. In Zürich he labored with great per severance and fidelity in the midst of many discouragements till 1854, when he received a cal to the University of Bonn, in Prussia, where he will probably end his days on earth.5 Dr. Lange is undoubtedly one of the ablest and purest divines that Germany ever produced. He is a man of rare genius and varied culture, sanctified by deep piety, and devoted to the service of Christ. Personally he is a most amiable Christian gentleman, genial, affectionate, unassuming, simple, and unblemished in all the relations of life. He combines an unusual variety of gifts, and excels as a theologian, philosopher, poet, and preacher. He abounds in original ideas, and if not always convincing, he is always fresh, interesting, and stimulating. He is at home in the ideal heights and mystic depths of nature and revelation, and yet has a clear and keen eye for the actual and real world around him. He indulges in poetico-philosophical speculations, and at times soars high above the clouds and beyond the stars, to the spiritual and eternal “land of glory,” on which he once wrote a fascinating book.6 His style is fresh, vigorous, and often truly beautiful and sublime, but somewhat deficient in simplicity, clearness, and condensation, and is too much burdened with compound, semi-poetical, unwieldy epithets, which offer peculiar difficulties to the translator. His speculations and fancies cannot always stand the test of sober criticism, although we might wish them to be true. But they are far less numerous in his Commentary than in his former writings. They are, moreover, not only harmless, but suggestive and pious, and supply a lack in that sober, realistic, practical, prosaic common-sense theology which deals with facts and figures rather than the hidden causes and general principles of things, and never breathes the invigorating mountain air of pure thought. Poetical divines of real genius are so rare that we should thank God for the few. Why should poetry, the highest and noblest of the arts, be banished from theology? Has not God joined them together in the first and last chapters of the Bible? Has He not identified poetry with the very birth of Christianity, in the angelic hymn, as well as with its ultimate triumphs, in the hallelujahs of the countless host of the redeemed? Is it not one of the greatest gifts of God to man, and an unfailing source of the purest and richest enjoyments? Is it not an essential element and ornament of divine worship? Can any one fully understand and explain the Book of Job, the Psalms and the Prophets, the Parables, and the Apocalypse, without a keen sense of the beautiful and sublime? Theology and philosophy, in their boldest flights and nearest approaches to the vision of truth, unconsciously burst forth in the festive language of poetry; and poetry itself, in its highest and noblest forms, is transformed into worship of Him who is the eternal source of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good. No one will deny this who is familiar with the writings of St. Augustine, especially his Confessions, where the metaphysical and devotional elements interpenetrate each other, where meditation ends in prayer, and speculation in adoration. But the greatest philosophers, too, not only Plato, Schelling, and Coleridge, who were constitutionally poetical, but even Aristotle, Kant, and Hegel, who were the greatest masters of pure reasoning and metaphysical abstraction, provethis essential harmony of truth and beauty.7 The poetic and imaginative element imparts freshness to thought, and turns even the sandy desert of dry critical research into a blooming flower garden. I fully admit, of course, that the theologian must regulate his philosophical speculations by the word of revelation, and control his poetic imagination by sound reason and judgment. Lange represents, among German divines, in hopeful anticipation, the peaceful and festive harmony of theology and poetry, of truth and beauty, which exists now in heaven, “the land of glory,” and will be actualized on the new earth. Take the following striking passage on the locality and beauty of heaven, as a characteristic specimen of his thought and style:8 “When the beautiful in the world manifests itself alone, so that the friendly features of God’s character are exclusively seen, profane souls remain profanely inclined; yea, they become even more profligate in the misuse of the riches of God’s goodness. If, on the other hand, the greatness and power of God are revealed in the rugged and terribly sublime, in the hurricane, in the ocean-storm, then the profane are overwhelmed with horror, which is easily changed into fear, and may manifest itself in hypocritical or superficial exhibitions of penitence; but when the goodness and power of God manifest themselves in one and the same bright phenomenon, this produces a frame of spirit which speaks of that which is holy. This is the reason why the much-praised valley of the Rhine is so solemn and sabbatic, because it is enamelled by a blending of the beautiful and the sublime: stern mountains, rugged rocks, ruins of the past, vestiges of grandeur, monumental columns of God’s power, and these columns at the same time garlanded with the loving wreaths of God’s favor and goodness, in the midst of smiling vineyards which repose sweetly around in the mild sunlight of heaven. For this reason the starry night is so instructive—the grandest dome decked with the brightest radiance of kindness and love. For the same reason there is such magic attraction in the morning dawn and in the evening twilight: they take hold upon us like movings to prayer; because in them beauty is so mingled with holy rest, with spiritual mystery, with the earnest and sublime. Thus does it meet the festive children of this world, who are generally of a prayerless spirit, so that they are as it were prostrated upon the earth in deep devotion, when some great sight in nature, in which the beautiful is clothed with sublime earnestness, bursts upon their view; or when, on the other hand, some marked manifestation of God’s power is associated with heart-moving wooings of kindness. Accordingly, we hear one tell what pious emotions he felt stirring his bosom, when he beheld the wide-extended country from the top of the Pyrenees; another tells how the spirit of prayer seized upon his soul when he stood upon the height of Caucasus, and felt, as he looked over the eastern fields and valleys of Asia, as if heaven had opened itself before him. Such witnesses might be gathered to almost any extent. “But now it is certain that there must be some place in the upper worlds where the beauties and wonders of God’s works are illuminated to the highest transparency by his power and holy majesty; where the combination of lovely manifestations, as seen from radiant summits, the enraptured gaze into the quiet valleys of universal creation, and the streams of light which flow through them, must move the spirits of the blest in the mightiest manner, to cry out: Holy! Holy! Holy!—And there is the holiest place in the great Temple! It is there, because there divine manifestations fill all spirits with a feeling of his holiness. But still rather, because there he reveals himself through holy spirits, and through the holiest one of all, even Jesus Himself!” Dr. Lange’s theology is essentially biblical and evangelical catholic, and inspired by a fresh and refreshing enthusiasm for truth under all its types and aspects. It is more positive and decided than that of Neander or Tholuck, yet more liberal and conciliatory than the orthodoxy of Hengstenberg, which is often harsh and repulsive. Lange is one of the most uncompromising opponents of German rationalism and scepticism, and makes no concessions to the modern attacks on the gospel history. But he always states his views with moderation, and in a Christian and amiable spirit; and he endeavors to spiritualize and idealize doctrines and facts, and thus to make them more plausible to enlightened reason. His orthodoxy, it is true, is not the fixed, exclusive orthodoxy either of the old Lutheran, or of the old Calvinistic Confession, but it belongs to that recent evangelical type which arose in conflict with modern infidelity, and going back to the Reformation and the still higher and purer fountain of primitive Christianity as it came from the hands of Christ and His inspired apostles, aims to unite the true elements of the Reformed and Lutheran Confessions, and on this firm historical basis to promote catholic unity and harmony among the conflicting branches of Christ’s Church. It is evangelical catholic, churchly, yet unsectarian, conservative, yet progressive; it is the truly living theology of the age. It is this very theology which, for the last ten or twenty years, has been transplanted in multiplying translations to the soil of other Protestant countries, which has made a deep and lasting impression on the French, Dutch, and especially on the English and American mind. It is this theology which is now undergoing a process of naturalization and amalgamation in the United States, which will here be united with the religious fervor, the sound, strong common sense, and free, practical energy of the Anglo-American race, and which in this modified form has a wider field of usefulness before it in this new world than even in its European fatherland. Dr. Lange is an amazingly fertile author. Several of his works belong to the department of belle-lettres, æsthetics, and hymnology. Some of his hymns have deservedly found a place in modern German hymn books,9 and help to swell the devotions of the sanctuary. His principal works on theological subjects are, first, a complete system of Divinity, in three parts, severally entitled: Philosophical Dogmatics, Positive Dogmatics, and Applied Dogmatics (or Polemics and Irenics). This is an exceedingly able work, abounding in original and profound ideas, but artificial and complicated in its arrangement, often transcending the boundaries of logic, and in many sections almost untranslatable. His second great work is a Life of Jesus, also in three parts, which, upon the whole, is justly regarded as the fullest and ablest modern work on the subject, and the best positive refutation of Strauss. It has quite recently been given to the English public by Mr. Clark, in six volumes.10 His History of the Apostolic Church, in two volumes, was intended as the beginning of a general History of Christianity, which, however, has not been continued. But the last, the most important, and the most useful labor, worthy to crown such a useful life, is his Theological and Homiletical Commentary. All his preceding labors, especially those on the Life of Christ, prepared him admirably for the exposition of the Gospels, which contains the rich harvest of the best years of his manhood. This Commentary will probably engage his time for several years to come, and will make his name as familiar in England and America as it is in Germany. I add a complete list of all the published works of Dr. Lange, including his poetry, in chronological order: 1. Die Lehre der heiligen Schrift von der freien und allgemeinen Gnade Gottes. Elberfeld, 1831. 2. Biblische Dichtungen. 1 Bändchen. Elberfeld, 1832. 3. Predigten. München, 1833. 4. Biblische Dichtungen. 2 Bändchen. Elberfeld, 1834. 5. Kleine polemische Gedichte. Duisburg, 1835. 6. Gedichte und Sprüche aus dem Gebiete christlicher Naturbetrachtung. Duisburg, 1835. 7. Die Welt des Herrn in didaktischen Gesängen. Essen, 1835. 8. Die Verfinsterung der Welt. Lehrgedicht. Berlin, 1838. 9. Grundzüge der urchristlichen frohen Botschaft. Duisburg, 1839. 10. Homilien über Colosser iii. 1–17. Vierte Auflage. Bremen, 1844. 11. Christliche Betrachtungen über zusammenhängende biblische Abschnitte für die häusliche Erbauung. Duisburg, 1841. 12. Ueber den geschichtlichen Character der kanonischen Evangelien, insbesondere der Kindheitsgeschichts Jesu, mit Beziehung auf das Leben Jesu von D. F. Strauss. Duisburg, 1836. 13. Das Land der Herrlichkeit, oder die christliche Lehre vom Himmel. Mörs, 1838. 14. Vermischte Schriften, 4 Bände. Mörs, 1840–’41. 15. Gedichte. Essen, 1843. 16. Die kirchliche Hymnologie, oder die Lehre vom Kirchengesang. Theoretische Einleitung und Kircher liederbuch. Zürich, 1843. 17. Das Leben Jesu, 3 Bücher. Heidelberg, 1844–’47. 18. Worte der Abwehr (in Beziehung auf das Leben Jesu). Zürich, 1846. 19. Christliche Dogmatik, 3 Bände. Philosophische, Positive, und Angewandte Dogmatik. Heidelberg, 1847. 20. Ueber die Neugestaltung des Verhältnisses zwischen dem Staat und der Kirche. Heidelberg, 1848. 21. Neutestamentliche Zeitgedichte. Frankfurt a. M., 1849. 22. Briefe eines communistischen Propheten. Breslau, 1850. 23. Göthe’s religiöse Poesie. Breslau, 1850. 24. Die Geschichte der Kirche, Erster Theil. Das apostolische Zeitalter, 2 Bände. Braunschweig, 1853–’54. 25. Auswahl von Gast-und Gelegenheitspredigten. Zweite Ausgabe. Bonn, 1857. 26. Vom Oelberge. Geistliche Dichtungen. Neue Ausgabe. Frankfurt a. M., 1858. 27. Vermischte Schriften. Neue Folge, 2 Bändchen. Bielefeld, 1860. 28. Theologisch-homiletisches Bibelwerk, commenced 1857, Bielefeld. Dr. Lange prepared the Commentaries on Matthew , 3 d edition, 1861; on Mark , 2 d edition, 1861; on John , 2 d edition, 1862; on the Epistle of James (in connection with van Oosterzee), 1862; on Genesis, with a general introduction to the Old Testament, 1864; on the Epistle to the Romans (now in course of publication). THE PLAN OF LANGE’S COMMENTARY The plan of Lange’s Bibelwerk is very comprehensive. It aims to give all that the minister and Biblical student can desire in one work. Its value consists to a great extent in its completeness and exhaustiveness, and in the convenient arrangement for practical use. It contains, first, appropriate Introductions, both critical and homiletical, to the Bible as a whole, to each particular book, and to each section. The sections are provided with clear and full headings, the parallel passages, and the indications of their homiletical use in the order of the church year. The Text is given, not in the original Greek, nor in Luther’s version, but in a new German version, which is as literal as the genius of the language will bear, and is made with special reference to the exposition. The principal readings of the Greek text are given in foot-notes, with short critical remarks. The critical editions of the Greek Testament by Lachmann and Tischendorf11 are made the basis. Then follows the Commentary itself. This is threefold, Critical, Doctrinal, and Homiletical.12 The three departments are kept distinct throughout, and are arranged under different heads, so that the reader can at once find what he wants at the time, without being forced to work his way through a mass of irrelevant matter. 1. The first department contains: Exegetical and Critical Notes13 These explain the words and phrases of the text, and endeavor to clear up every difficulty which presents itself to the critical student, according to the principles of grammatico-historical exegesis. On all the more important passages, the different views of the leading ancient and modern commentators are given; yet without the show and pedantry of learning. The chief aim is to condense, in as brief a space as possible, the most valuable and permanent results of original and previous exegetical labors, without detaining the reader with the tedious process of investigation, and a constant polemical reference to false opinions. The building appears in its beautiful finish, and the scaffolding and rubbish required during its construction are removed out of sight. 2. The second department is headed: Leading Dogmatical and Ethical Thoughts, or Doctrinal and Ethical.14 It presents, under a number of distinct heads, the fundamental doctrines and moral maxims contained in, or suggested by, the text. In the Gospels, these truths and principles are viewed mainly from the christological point of view, or as connected with the person and work of our Saviour. The reader will find here a vast amount of living theology, fresh from the fountain of God’s revelation in Christ, and free from scholastic and sectarian complications and distortions. The person of Christ stands out everywhere as the great central sun of truth and holiness, from which light and life emanate upon all parts of the Christian system. 3. The third department is entitled: Homiletical Hints or Suggestions.15 This shows the way from the study to the pulpit, from the exposition and understanding of the word of God to its practical application to all classes and conditions of society. It is especially the pastor’s department, designed to aid him in preparing sermons and Biblical lectures, yet by no means to supersede the labor of pulpit preparation. It is suggestive and stimulating in its character, and exhibits the endless variety and applicability of Scripture history and Scripture truth. It brings the marble slabs from the quarry, and the metals from the mine, but leaves the chiselling and hammering to the artist. The authors of the several parts give under this heading first their own homiletical and practical reflections, themes and parts in a few words, and then judicious selections from other homiletical commentators, as Quesnel, Canstein, Starke, Gossner, Lisco, Otto von Gerlach, Heubner, and occasionally brief skeletons of celebrated sermons. I must confess, I was at first prejudiced against this part of the Commentary, fearing that it made the work of the preacher too easy; but upon closer examination I became convinced of its great value. If I am not mistaken, the American readers will prize it in proportion as they make themselves familiar with it. They will be especially edified, I think, by the exuberant riches and high-toned spirituality which characterize the homiletical suggestions of Lange, and several of his contributors, especially Dr. van Oosterzee (a man of genius, and the best pulpit orator of Holland), as also with the selections from Starke and his predecessors found under his name, Otto von Gerlach (late court-preacher in Berlin, and author of a brief popular commentary), and the venerable Heubner (late director of the Theological Seminary at Wittenberg). There are standard commentaries on special portions of the Scriptures, which excel all others, either in a philological or theological or practical point of view, either in brevity and condensation or in fulness of detail, either in orthodoxy of doctrine and soundness of judgment or in expository skill and fertility of adaptation, or in some other particular aspect. But, upon the whole, the Biblical work of Dr. Lange and his associates is the richest, the soundest, and the most useful general commentary which Germany ever produced, and far better adapted than any other to meet the wants of the various evangelical denominations of the English tongue. This is not only my individual opinion, but the deliberate judgment of some of the best Biblical and German scholars of America whom I have had occasion to consult on the subject. THE ANGLO-AMERICAN EDITION A work of such sterling value cannot be long confined to the land of its birth. America, as it is made up of descendants from all countries, nations, and churches of Europe (e pluribusunum), is set upon appropriating all important literary treasures of the old world, especially those which promise to promote the moral and religious welfare of the race. Soon after the appearance of the first volume of Dr. Lange’s Commentary, I formed, at the solicitation of a few esteemed friends, and with the full consent of Dr. Lange himself, an association for an American edition, and in September, 1860, I made the necessary arrangements with my friend, Mr. Charles Scribner, as publisher.16 The secession of the slave States, and the consequent outbreak of the civil war in 1861, paralyzed the book trade, and indefinitely suspended the enterprise. But in 1863 it was resumed at the suggestion of the publisher and with the consent of Mr. T. Clark, of Edinburgh, who in the mean time (since 1861) had commenced to publish translations of parts of Lange’s Commentary in his “Foreign Theological Library.” I moved to New York for the purpose of devoting myself more fully to this work amid the literary facilities of the city, completed the first volume, and made arrangements with leading Biblical and German scholars of different evangelical denominations for the translation of the other volumes. The following books are already finished, or in course of preparation for the press: The Gospel according to Matthew, with a General Introduction to the New Testament. By the American Editor. The Gospel according to Mark. By the Rev. Dr. W. G. T. Shedd, Professor of Biblical Literature in the Union Theological Seminary at New York. The Gospel according to Luke. By the Editor. The Gospel according to John. By the Rev. Dr. Edw. D. Yeomans, Rochester, N. Y. The Acts of the Apostles. By Prof. Dr. Charles F. Schäffer, Phildelphia. The Epistles to the Corinthians. By the Rev. Dr. Daniel W. Poor, of Newark, N. J., and Dr. C. P. Wing, of Carlisle, Pa. The Epistle to the Galatians. By the Rev. Charles C. Starbuck, New York. The Epistle to the Philippians, and that to Philemon. By Prof. Dr. H. B. Hackett, Theol. Seminary at Newton Centre, Mass. The Epiitles to the Thessalonians. By the Rev. Dr. John Lillie, of Kingston, N. Y. The Epistle to the Hebrews. By Prof. Dr. A. C. Kendrick, Rochester, N. Y. The Pastoral Epistles. By Prof. Dr. George E. Day, of Lane Theol. Seminary, Ohio. The Catholic Epistles. By the Rev. J. Isidor Mombert, of Lancaster, Pa. Genesis. By Prof. Tayler Lewis, Union College, Schenectady, N. Y., and the Rev. Dr. A. Gosman, Lawrenceville, N. J. These gentlemen, and others who are or will be invited to take part in the work, have already an established reputation as excellent Biblical scholars or experienced translators from the German, and will no doubt do full justice to the task assigned them. It is impossible beforehand to state with absolute certainty the number of volumes or the time required for the completion of the whole commentary. It is sufficient to say that it will be energetically pushed forward, without undue haste, and published with proper regard to economy of space and price. The enterprise is necessarily a very extensive and expensive one, and falls in a most unfavorable period of the American book trade; the war having caused an unprecedented rise in the price of composition, paper, and binding material. But it has the advantage over an encyclopædia and other voluminous works, that each volume will cover an entire book or books of the Bible and thus be relatively complete in itself, and can be sold separately. PRINCIPLES OF THE AMERICAN EDITION The character of the proposed Anglo-American edition of Lange’s Bibelwerk, and its relation to the original, may be seen from the following general principles and rules on which it will be prepared, and to which all contributors must conform, to insure unity and symmetry. 1. The Biblical Commentary of Dr. Lange and his associates must be faithfully and freely translated into idiomatic English, without omission or alteration.17 2. The translator is authorized to make, within reasonable limits, such additions, original or selected, as will increase the value and interest of the work, and adapt it more fully to the wants of the English and American student. But he must carefully distinguish these additions from the original text by brackets and the initials of his name, or the mark Tr. 3. The authorized English version of 1611, according to the present standard edition of the American Bible Society,18 must be made the basis, instead of giving a new translation, which, in this case, would have to be a translation of a translation. But wherever the text can be more clearly or accurately rendered, according to the present state of textual criticism and biblical learning, or where the translation and the commentary of the German original require it, the improvements should be inserted in the text (in brackets, with or without the Greek, as the writer may deem best in each case) and justified in the Critical Notes below the text, with such references to older and recent English and other versions as seem to be necessary or desirable. 4. The various readings are not to be put in foot-notes, as in the original, but to follow immediately after the text in small type, in numerical order, and with references to the verses to which they belong. 5. The three parts of the commentary are to be called: I. Exegetical and Critical; II. Doctrinal and Ethical; III. Homiletical and Practical. 6. The Exegetical Notes are not to be numbered consecutively, as in the original, but marked by the figure indicating the verse to which they belong; an arrangement which facilitates the reference, and better accords with usage.19 7. Within these limits each contributor has full liberty, and assumes the entire literary responsibility of his part of the work. If these general principles are faithfully carried out, the American edition will be not only a complete translation, but an enlarged adaptation and improvement of the original work, giving it an Anglo-German character, and a wider field of usefulness. The typographical arrangement will be closely conformed to the original, as upon the whole the best in a work of such dimensions. A page of the translation contains even more than a page of the original, and while the size of volumes will be enlarged, their number will be lessened. Footnotes: [1]Even Dr. Wordsworth, who is disposed to find in the old Catholic and modern Anglican fathers the beginning and the end of exegetical knowledge and wisdom, feels constrained to admit (in the Preface to his Commentary or the N. T., p. v.): “Indeed it must be confessed, with thankfulness to the Divine Author of the Scripture, that the present age enjoys, in certain respects, greater privileges for the due understanding of Holy Writ than were ever conferred by Almighty God on any preceding generation since the revival of letters.” And he is candid enough to admit, also (on p. vi.), “that the palm for industry in this sacred field is especially due to another nation. The Masorites of the New Testament are from Germany.” [2]The full German title of this work is: Theologisch-homiletisches Bibelwerk. Die Heilige Schrift Alten und Neuen Testaments mit Rücksicht auf das theologisch-homiletische Bedürfniss des pastoralen Amtes in Verbindung mit namhaften evangelischen Theologen bearbeitet und herausgegeben von J. P. Lange. Bielefeld. Verlag von Velhagen und Klasing, 1857 ff. [3] Synopsis Bibliothecæ Exegeticæ in Novum Testamentum. Kurzgefasster Aussug der gründlichsten und nutzbarsten Auslegungen über alle Bücher Neuen Testaments. In Tabellen, Erklärungen. Anmerkungen und Nutzanwendungen, mit Zuziehung des Grundtextes, und fleissiger Anführung der dabey gebrauchten Bücher, zum erwünschten Handbuch, etc. etc. Mit Beyhülfe einiger Gelehrten von Christoph Starke, Pastore Primario und Garnison, Prediger der Stadt und Festung Driesen. 3 vols. 4to. The preface is dated 1733. I have seen in this country and occasionally compared two copies of this work, one of the second edition, Leipzig, 1740 (in the Theol. Seminary Library at Mercersburg, Pa.), and one of the 4th ed., Leipz. 1758 (in possession of a German clergyman at New York). The first volume, containing the four Gospels, covers 2,523 closely printed quarto pages. The title of the Old Testament Part is: Synopsis Bibliothecæ Exegeticæ in Vetus Testamentum, etc., Berlin and Halle, 1741 ff. 6 vols. 4to. His son, Johann Georg Starke, completed the Old Testament. Christoph Starke was born a. d. 1684, was pastor primarius in the town and fortress Driesen, and died 1744. His motto was: Crucem sumo, Christum sequor. He was not a man of genius, like Lange, but of immense literary industry, and his work is a dry but useful compilation. He embodied in it extracts from previous exegetical works, especially those of Luther, Brentius, Canstein, Cramer, Hedinger, Lange, Majus, Osiander, Piscator, Quesnel, Tosanus, Biblia Wurtembergensia, Zeisius. Lange transfers the substance of Starke’s labors to the homiletical sections of his Commentary, and credits him with the extracts from his predecessors under their names. [4]This part will probably be rewritten by another hand on account of the recent unfortunate change in the Theological position of the author. [5]For the biographical notices I am indebted to the kindness of Dr. Lange, who communicated them to me by letter at my request. I previously wrote also a sketch of his character as a divine in my book on Germany, its Universities and Divines, Philadelphia, 1857, of which I have no copy on hand, the edition being exhausted. I have seen Dr. Lange in Zürich in 1844, and at Bonn in 1854, and corresponded with him more or less for the last twenty years. [6]Under the title: Das Land der Herrlichkeit, oder die christliche Lehre vom Himmel, first published as a series of articles in Hengstenberg’s Evangelical Church Gazette, and then in book form, 1838. Dr. H. Harbaugh, of Mercersburg, Pa., has translated a portion of it in the third of his three popular works on the heavenly world, which have gone through some fifteen or twenty editions. [7]I would mention as examples that noble passage of Aristotle on nature’s argument for the existence of God, preserved by Cicero, De Nat. Deorum, ii. 37, and quoted by Alexander von Humboldt with admiration, in his Kosmos, vol. ii. p. 16 (German edition), a work where otherwise even the name of God is nowhere mentioned; Kant’s famous saying of the two things which fill his soul with ever-growing reverence and awe, the starry heaven above him, and the moral law within him; and Hegel’s truly sublime introduction to his Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, as well as many of the noblest passages in his Lectures on Æsthetics. [8]From his youthful work: Das Land der Herrlichkeit. Not having a copy of the original within reach, I borrow the translation from Dr. Harbaugh’s Heavenly Home, Matthew 7 p. 142 ff. [9]I adopted a number of them in my German hymn book, published in 1859 and extensively used in this country, e.g., Nos. 94, 194, 227. [10] The Life of the Lord Jesus Christ: a complete critical examination of the Origin, Contents, and Connection of the Gospels. Translated from the German of J. P. Lange, D. D. Edited, with additional Notes, by the Rev. Marcus Dods, A. M., in 6 vols. Elinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1864. Vol. i. is translated by Sophia Taylor, vol. ii. by J. E. Ryland, vol. iii. by M. G. Huxtable, vol. I bv:lvxx’by Rev. Rob. E. Wallis, vol. v. by Rev. S Manson, vol. vi. by Rev. Robert Smith. Six translators for one of the many books of Lange! This is a sufficient evidence of the difficulty of the task. The editor (Mr. Dods), in the introductory preface to vol. i., speaks in the highest terms of “this comprehensive and masterly work.” I am very happy to find that Lange, who has been comparatively unknown out of Germany, is beginning to be appreciated in England. The frequent references to the Leben Jesu in this Commentary on Matthew are always to the German original; the translation having reached me too late to change the figures. It is not likely, however, that such a voluminous and costly work will be soon reprinted in America; the less so, since the author has embodied many of the most important results in his Commentaries on Matthew, Mark, and John. [11]Not, however, the seventh and best edition of Tischendorf, which appeared in 1859, two years after the first edition of Lange’s Matthew, and which often deviates from the text of his previous editions and returns to many of the readings of the textus receptus. This is the case in the Gospel of Matthew alone in more than a hundred places, e.g., Matthew 2:13; Matthew 3:1; Matthew 4:23; Matthew 5:11; Matthew 5:13; Matthew 5:32; Matthew 6:5; Matthew 6:16; Matthew 6:33; Matthew 7:14; Matthew 8:10; Matthew 8:13; Matthew 9:1; Matthew 9:8-9; Matthew 9:11; Matthew 9:17; Matthew 10:7; Matthew 10:10; Matthew 10:14; Matthew 10:19; Matthew 10:23; Matthew 10:33, etc. [12]The proper rendering of the German headings of the three distinct sections, viz., Exegetische Erlæuterungen, Dogmatisch-Christologische or (in the Acts and Epistles) Dogmatisch-Ethische Grundgedanken, and Homiletische Andeutungen, has given some trouble. The Edinburgh translation of Matthew renders them: Critical Notes, Doctrinal Reflections, and Homiletical Hints. But this is too free, and the edition alluded to is not consistent. The Scotch translator of the Commentary on the Acts, of which the first twelve chapters have just appeared, Rev. Paton J. Gloag, renders the headings more literally: Exegetical Explanations, Dogmatical and Ethical Thoughts, Homiletical Hints. But Grundgedanken means fundamental or leading thoughts. Upon the whole I thought it most advisable to use the adjectives only, as best calculated to reconcile conflicting tastes and opinions. Christologico Dogmatical, and Dogmatico-Ethical would be too heavy, while Doctrinal and Ethical is good English and gives the idea as well. For symmetry’s sake I chose a double adjective for the other sections: 1. Exegetical and Critical; 2. Doctrinal and Ethical; 3. Homiletical and Practical. [13]In German: Exegetische Erlæuterungen, lit.: Exegetical Illustrations or Explanations (which is somewhat tautological, exegetical being identical with expository or explanatory). [14]In German: Dogmatisch-Ethische Grundgedanken. In the Gospels, where the christological element preponderates, Lange calls them: Dogmatisch-Christologische Grundgedanken. But his contributors have substituted for it the more general title: Dogmatico-Ethical Fundamental Thoughts, which is as applicable to the respective sections in the Gospels as to those in the Epistles. In his Commentary on Genesis, just published (1864) Dr. Lange uses Theologische Grundgedanken. [15] Homiletische Andeutunghn. [16]I may be permitted to state that I went into this enterprise at first with considerable reluctance, partly from a sense of its vast labor and responsibility, partly because it involved in all probability the abandonment of an original, though much shorter commentary (German and English) which I had been preparing for the last twenty years, and of which a few specimens appeared in the Kirchenfreund (1848–’53) and in the Mercersburg Review. But the task seemed to devolve on me naturally and providentially, and I gradually became so interested in it that I am willing to sacrifice to it other cherished literary projects. Dr. Lange himself, in forwarding to me an early copy of the first volume, wished me to take part in the original work, and encouraged me afterward to assume the editorial supervision of the English translation, giving me every liberty as regards additions and improvements. I made, however no use of my old notes on Matthew, leaving all my exegetical manuscripts boxed up with my library at Mercersburg. I did not wish to mix two works which differ in plan and extent, and adapted my additions to the general character and plan of Lange’s work and the wants of the English reader. [17]A condensation, such as has been proposed by some in this case, opens the door for an endless variety of conflicting opinions and tastes, and almost necessarily results in a mutilation of the original. The only proper alternative seems to be either to translate a foreign work entire, if it be at all worthy of translation, or to make it the basis of a new work. [18]Not the revision of 1854 (which contained unauthorized changes and was set aside), but the collation adopted by the Board of Managers in 1858, and printed in 1860 and since. See the Report of the Committee on Versions is the Board of Managers of the American Bible Society, for February, 1859. [19]I would remark, that all the changes and improvements above proposed have the hearty approval of Dr. Lange The last one he has since adopted himself in his recent Commentary on Genesis. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 3: 01.2. THEOLOGICAL & HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO OT ======================================================================== THEOLOGICAL AND HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT Preliminary Remarks THE RELATION OF THIS INTRODUCTION TO THE INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT We prefixed to the Commentary on Matthew a sketch of the General Introduction to the Holy Scripture, since for Christians the New Testament is the key to the Old (Lange’s Matthew, pp. 1–20, Am. ed.). But it is necessary, in preparing a Special Introduction to the Old Testament, that we should again proceed upon a survey of the whole field of Biblical Science and Biblical Theology. For the Introduction to the Old Testament, necessarily points back to the Introduction to the New. In the Introduction to the New Testament, moreover, particular points were simply alluded to, which must now be more thoroughly discussed. But to explain these points in their systematic order, we shall have to make a general statement of the questions of Introduction; only so far, however, that we shall merely refer to points already explained. The Introduction to the New Testament was modelled upon the definition of Exegetics. For our present purpose it seems better to follow the outline of a living Biblical Theology. We shall, however, overstep the ordinary limits of Biblical Theology, and embrace the Sciences of Introduction which Biblical Theology viewed by itself presupposes. For the Literature, the following works may be consulted, in addition to those referred to in Matthew (Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed. p. 17). 1. Introduction to the Bible.—Schumann: Praktische Einleitung in’s Alte und Neue Testament; Steglich: Bibelkunde, Leipzig (1853); Staudt: Fingerzeige in den Inhalt und Zusammenhang der Heiligen Schrift, Stuttgart (1854); Wetzel: Die Sprache Luthers in seiner Bibelübersetzung, Stuttgart (1859); The Bible and its History, 11th edition, with a preface by F. W. Krummacher, Elberfeld (1858); Watson: Apology for the Bible, Letters to Paine, New York; Kirchhofer: Leitfaden zur Bibelkunde, 2d ed., Stuttgart (1860). Similar works by Hagenbach, Leipsig (1850); Hollenberg, Berlin (1854); Schneider, Bielefeld (1860); Lisco: Einleitung in die Bibel, Berlin (1861); Bibelwegweiser, Einleitung in die Heilige Schrift, Calw (1861); Bleek: Einleitung in’s Alte und Neue Testament, Berlin (1860-’62); Nast: Critical and Practical Commentary, Cincinnati (1860); [Hævernick’s Introduction, Edinburgh Translation (1852); Horne’s Introduction, New York (1860); Davidson’s Introduction; Jahn’s Introduction, with References by S. H. Turner.—A. G.] 2. Directions for Reading the Bible.—W. Hoffmann: Ueber den rechten Gebrauch der Bibel, Berlin (1854); Ostertag: Züge aus dem Werke der Bibelverbreitung, Stuttgart (1857); Seelbach: Bibelsegen, Bielefeld (1851–’55); Hollenberg: Ermunterung und Anleitung zum Bibellesen, Berlin (1862); [Francke’s Guide to the Study of the Scriptures; Talbot’s Bible; Locke’s Commonplace-Book; Townsend’s Arrangement; the Paragraph Bibles; Collyer: The Sacred Interpreter, Oxford (1831); Companion to the Bible, Phila. (1852).—A. G.] 3. General and Special Bibleworks.—See Lange’s Matthew, Am. Ed. pp. 19; Starke: Allgemeines Register übėr die fünf Theile seines Bibelwerkes, pp. 1–46; Walch: Bibliotheca Theol. iv. pp. 182, 379. Danz: Universal-Wörterbuch, pp. 126, 134 ff.; Winer, i. p. 33 sqq. 162, Appendix, p. 9. We call special attention to the well-known works of earlier dates. Polus: The Critici Sacri; Die Berlenburger Bibel, new ed., Stuttgart (1856); Das Bibelwork von L. Maistre de Sacy; Seiler; Das grosse bibilische Erbauungsbuch, Erlangen (1788-’92), in 17 vols.; Die Würtemberger Summarien, Nürnberg (1859). Die Prediger Bibel by Fischer and Wohlfahrt, marks the transition to our time. The antagonistic works by Dinter and Brandt. The Bibleworks of Richter, Lisco, Gerlach; Calwer Handbuch; the unfinished Biblewerk by Bunsen; The Historical and Theological Bibelwerk, by Weber, Schaffhausen (1860); the newly published Wörterbuch of Oetinger; Die Bibel, an article from Ersch’s and Gruber’s Encyclopedia; Luther’s Explanations of the Holy Scriptures, selected from his Expository Works, Berlin. [Besides the Commentaries of Henry and Scott, we may refer to those of J. Gill, Adam Clarke, Patrick Lowth and Whitby, Burder’s Scripture Exposition, Poole’s Annotations, the Biblical Commentary, by Keil and Delitzsch, now in course of publication and translation in Clarke’s foreign library. D’Oyly and Mant: The Holy Bible, with Notes, critical and explanatory, London (1856).—A. G.] FIRST DIVISION THEOLOGICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT UPON THE PLAN OF BIBLICAL THEOLOGY Prefatory Remarks § 1 Definition and Structure of Biblical Theology Biblical Theology, embracing the doctrines and ethics of the Holy Scripture, in their unity as the biblical rule of life, is an historical science; the history, i. e., of the actual and uniform development of Biblical doctrine from its earliest form to its canonical completion. Its sources are the canonical books of the Holy Scriptures; with which we may connect the Old Testament Apocrypha, as a historical auxiliary, which furnishes us with the knowledge of biblical doctrine during its transition period, from its Old Testament form to its New Testament completion. But to assign it its true worth and position, we must compare the Bible with its surroundings; a. with the Apocrypha, b. with the Apostolical Fathers, c. with the Talmud, and the Old Testament text with the Septuagint. It occupies in Theology the transition ground between Exegesis and Church History. Its last antecedent is Biblical History, its nearest result the History of Dogmas. As to its origin and history, it springs out of the total development of Theology. The way was opened for it through the whole Theology before the Reformation, through the biblical character of the doctrines of the Reformers, through the dicta probantia which marked the Dogmatics of the 17th century, and through the effort of the Pietistic school to confine the Christian dogmas to their Scriptural basis. In the second half of the 18th century it became an independent science, formed at first upon the loci theologici, then regarded as purely historical, finally assumed the form of an historical science, conditioned upon the grand norm or principle of Christian doctrine and of the Scriptures. [Upon the idea of the God-Man—the Incarnation.—A. G.] Biblical Theology is the history of Biblical doctrine in its unity, and in its particular doctrines. It may be divided therefore into General and Special; but these are united again by the Christological principle, the Incarnation, which is the grand fundamental thought of Holy Scripture. We have the reflection of the God-Man, i. e., the unity of the eternal divine being and its finite human manifestation, of the one and absolute Spirit and the manifold life, in Biblical doctrine as in Biblical History. It follows, of course, that General Biblical Theology treats 1. of the divine unity of Holy Scripture, 2. of the human diversities of Holy Scripture, 3. of the divine-human, Christological theology of the Holy Scripture, and its course of development. Accordingly Special Biblical Theology embraces 1. the history of the Biblical doctrine of God, in its Christological form, 2. the history of the Biblical doctrine of Man, 3. the history of the Biblical doctrine of the God-Man, and his redeeming work, 4. the history of the expansion of the life of Christ in his Kingdom; or Theocratology, the doctrine of the Kingdom of God, to its Eschatological completion. For the position of Biblical Theology in the system of Theological Sciences, see Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed., p. 17. It must be observed here, however, that Biblical Theology, with its parallel science, Biblical History, is the result and crowning glory of Exegetical Theology; and further, that Biblical Theology is no more to be confounded with systematic biblical Dogmatics (i. e., the ground of Ecclesiastical Dogmatics), than Biblical History with the history of the Kingdom of God, which latter embraces the entire history of the Church and the world, to the end of time. We must, therefore, avoid confounding with each other the periods of the history of the Kingdom of God, of Biblical History, and of Biblical religion, which is still often the case. For the literature of Biblical History, see Danz: Universal-Wörterbuch, p. 135. Also the Biblical Histories of Hubner, Rauschenbusch, Kohlrausch Zahn. Biblical History is often treated under the name of the History of the Kingdom of God. See Grube: Characterbilder der heiligen Schrift, Leipzig (1853). For the History and Literature of Biblical Theology, see Hagenbach: Theol. Encyclopedia, p. 101. —————— FIRST SECTION THE CANONICAL CHARACTER OR DIVINE ASPECT OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, ESPECIALLY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, OR THE UNITY OF BIBLICAL DOCTRINE § 1 THE SACRED WRITINGS AS THE HOLY SCRIPTURE. The records of Revelation, especially of the Old Testament Revelation, or the sacred writings, notwithstanding their endless diversity, as to authors, time, form, language, constitute one Holy Scripture perfectly consistent with itself, and perfectly distinct from all other writings; yet entering into such a relation and interchange with them as to manifest as perfect a unity of spirit as if they had been written by one pen, sprung from one fundamental thought, in one year, in a single moment. This unity of the Holy Scripture rests upon the unity of its eternal Spirit, of its eternal norm or principle, its eternal contents, its eternal object. Whatever is eternal forms a living, concrete unity under the diversities of time; and thus the eternal divine purpose of redemption in Christ—the soul of the Holy Scripture—forms its living unity under the diversities of the sacred writings. § 2 THE ONE PERVADING SUBJECT OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURE IN ITS OBJECTIVE ASPECT The Holy Scripture in its objective aspect is one only through its one pervading idea of God, or rather through the living revelation of the one personal God of revelation which runs through the Old and New Testaments. When, therefore, on the one hand the Gnostics make the God of the Old Testament a subordinate deity (Marcion: θεὸς δίκαιος), or a God of a lower nature, a Demiurge, or even an Evil Spirit (the Ophites), and the Rationalists distinguish the Old Testament Jehovah, as a Jewish national Deity, from the New Testament God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; and on the other hand the Jews in the God of the New Testament, the Ebionites in the God of Paul, could not recognize the Jehovah of the Old Testament, they simply failed to perceive—owing to their spiritual blindness—the one grand common life, underneath the great objective antithesis between the Old and New Testaments. The God of the Old Testament as well as that of the New is the absolute Spirit, the Creator, Upholder and Ruler of the world, above the world and yet in it, the God of all nations, the God of love, grace, and redemption; although in a peculiar sense the God of Israel, and although omnipotence, holiness, and righteousness are the predominant features in his earlier revelation. The God of the New Testament, on the other hand, is a God viewed in his relations to man, the God of the Elect, primarily of the Elect One, as the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the God of his own people, the Holy One, in his justice a consuming fire (Hebrews 12:29), while love, grace, and mercy predominate in his final and complete revelation. The Jehovah of the Old Covenant is more illustriously revealed in the God Amen of the New Covenant (Revelation 3:14). As the one biblical idea of God—imparting unity to the Sriptures—is thus entirely consistent with it self, so it is clearly distinguished from the heathen idea of God, from all pure abstract Monotheism, post-Christian Judaism, and Mohammedanism (see Melanchthon’s loci, the preface). Compare the mythological systems, the Talmud, the Cabbalah, and the Koran. § 3 THE ONE PERVADING SUBJECT OF HOLY SCRIPTURE IN ITS SUBJECTIVE ASPECT The Holy Scripture in its subjective aspect is animated by one pervading, peculiar religious consciousness—Faith. Faith, as here used, is the knowledge of God awakened by the self-revelation of God, and corresponding to it, of God not as existing merely, but as manifesting himself vividly afar off and near at hand; and the confidence in him having its root in this knowledge and agreeing with it, a confidence not resting upon him in his general character, but upon him in the promise of salvation in his word. In this confidence, as it leads to the yielding of the will to the will and Providence of God—not to any arbitrary human will—and thus to a living obedience to the commands of God, lies the root of love and of all virtue. In this sense of faith of Abraham and Paul are the same. Indeed, Abraham is the father of believers (Romans 4:1); although his faith both in its objective and subjective aspects was merely the living seed which, under the New Covenant, unfolded itself to the perfect fruit of saving faith. As the biblical idea of God is clearly distinguished from all untheocratic conceptions of the Deity, so this religious consciousness or the faith of the theocratic people, is clearly distinguished from all heathen, Jewish, or Mohammedan forms of this consciousness. § 4 THE ONE PERVADING THEANTHROPIC SUBJECT OF HOLY SCRIPTURE, CHRIST AND THE KINGDOM OF GOD Both the personal aspect of the Kingdom of God, the expectation of the Messiah, until his appearance, and until the hope of his second coming, and the universal aspect of the Messiah; the old promise of the Messianic Kingdom, confirmed in the covenant of God with Abraham and Israel, and the new promise of his appearing in glory—after his appearance in the form of the crucified—confirmed in the covenant of God with believers, runs throughout the Scriptures as the grand constituent principle, and final aim of Revelation and the Holy Scripture. Still, there is an endless development which lies between the paradisaic destination of man in Genesis (Genesis 1), especially in the Protevangelium (Genesis 3). and the completed City of God of the Apocalypse (Revelation 21, 22.) The Kingdom of God, as the Kingdom of Christ, as the synthesis of the glory of God and the blessedness of his children (since the glory of God shines in their blessedness, and their blessedness consists in the open vision of his glory), is distinct as possible from all the religious conceptions of the future of heathenism, Judaism and Mohammedanism. It rests upon the eternal covenant of God with humanity, which was prefigured in the old covenant, and fulfilled in the new. The Bible, therefore, is the record of this eternal covenant in its twofold form. § 5 THE OPPOSITIONS OF SCRIPTURE The revealed religion of the Bible stands in the most direct and irreconcilable opposition to the various unscriptural religions, considered in their darker aspect, i. e., so far as they are the false religions of false gods (Elilim); or dead, lifeless conceptions of God; but in a relation of friendship, as to the divine elements or those truths, they may embrace. This will define its relation to the different mythologies, to the Talmud, and the Koran. The recorded expression of this revelation in the Bible, stands in a specific opposition to all the derived forms, statements, and outgrowths of this revelation. This is the relation which the Old Testament sustains to the Septuagint, and the New Testament to the Apostolical Fathers, leaving out of view in one case the Old Testament Apocrypha, and in the other the New Testament Apocrypha and the traditions of the Church. But by virtue of its inexhaustible riches of life, embracing the whole history of the world and eternity, the Holy Scripture itself is distinguished into the harmonious antithesis of the Old and New Testaments: the Old, which points on to the New, into which it passes and finds its fulfilment; the New, which is ever referring to the Old, and in a historical sense is grounded in it. § 6 IMPORT OF THE UNITY OF THE BIBLE IN ITS DIVERSITY The unity of the Holy Scripture according to its divine, theanthropic origin, rests upon its Inspiration. (Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed. p. 11.) Recent writers upon Inspiration, e. g., Bunsen, Rothe, and others, have not sufficiently considered the Bible as to its full, harmonious, perfect teleology, through which all its individual utterances are conditioned, and which binds all into one. The perfect adaptation to its design points clearly to a perfect origin. The whole Bible teleologically considered culminates in the New Testament, emphatically in Christ: each particular book in its fundamental idea. To wrest any part out of its connection, for subordinate purposes, is a misconception of the Bible. In its perfectly definite design and end, agreeably to its sacred origin and contents, it is the Holy Scripture. The unity of the Holy Scripture according to its divine, theanthropic contents, constitutes it the Canon. (See Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed. p. 13.) The Bible is beyond question the canon, but not merely the canon, not a canon in the sense of a law-book. The canonical, as a rule and direction, always points to that which is above itself, the principle of life, and the life of the principle; to the source of free love, free life, and free blessedness from which it flows. Viewing the Holy Scripture as to its effects, its unity proves it to be the word of God. It exerts a power within and beyond itself; it sheds light upon itself; it radiates its light from its mighty living centre—the world-redeeming Christ—to every part, and reflects it from each part to every other, and back upon the central truth itself. Thus by virtue of the analogy of faith, and the analogy of Scripture, the Bible is the one indivisible word of God, in its total impression and operation, more fully the word of God, than in its particular words or utterances. Hence its eternal efficiency is pure and perfect. As a body of records it points back from itself to its origin, the living revelation. As a word of life it points beyond itself, to the living Christ. It is no idol which fetters the hearts of men to itself in a slavish manner. Neither is it a mere canon, a writing of genuine authority, which simply as a law, fixes the rule what we are to believe, and how we should live. As the word of God, it is the book of life, in the authentic form of writing, which gives testimony to the book of life in the hand of God—the purpose of redemption—to the book of life in the heart of the Church—Christ in us; and awakens, strengthens and enriches the life from God through Christ. It is not only the ground upon which the Cultus of the Church rests, but the book through which it edifies itself, and fulfils its great mission to the world. The unity of the Holy Scripture in the harmony of its great opposition constitutes it the one book of the Covenant, or the Eternal Testament, in the opposition of the Old and New Testaments. § 7 THE BIBLE AS THE BOOK OF BOOKS The Bible then, as the Book of Books, is as the sun in the centre of all other religious records; the Kings of the Chinese, the Vedas of India, the Zendavesta of the Persians, the Eddas of the Germans, the Jewish Talmud, and the Mohammedan Koran; judging all that is hostile in them, reconciling and bringing into liberty whatever elements of truth they may contain. It stands also, with a like repelling and attracting force in the centre of all literature, as well as of Theology. In the same power and dignity it exercises its critical authority upon all historical traditions. As the ideal Cosmos of the revelation of Salvation, it forms with the Cosmos of the general revelation of God an organic unity (Psalms 8; Psalms 19; Psalms 104). It is the key of the World-Cosmos, while this again is the living illustration of the Cosmos of the Scripture. But as that is subordinate to the living God, as an organ of his manifestation, so is the Bible to the living Christ. It holds the same relation to him as the copy to the original, and is coördinate with the eternal word of Christ in the total life of the Church—as a fully accordant testimony. But whoever will utter anything from that mystical writing in the heart of the church, must derive his credentials from the written word. § 8 THE RICHES OF THE SCRIPTURES IN THEIR ENDLESS DIVERSITY The grand opposition of the Old and New Testaments, upon a closer view, branches itself into an endless number of oppositions, distinctions, and differences, which meet us not only in the Old Testament generally, but in its particular divisions, and also in the New. In this human aspect the Bible appears as an historical growth, and is open to an historical examination and criticism. In this aspect is is connected with human imperfections. But in this aspect alone, the endless riches of its all-pervading divine fulness unfolds itself to our view. From the reciprocal influence of the divine unity of the Scriptures, and its human diversities, results the living force or movement in the development of Biblical Theology; and thus it comes to be the authentic copy of the advent and life of Christ, flowing out of the connection between the God of revelation and believing humanity. —————— SECOND SECTION THE CANONICAL CHARACTER OR DIVINE ASPECT OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, ESPECIALLY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, OR THE UNITY OF BIBLICAL DOCTRINE § 1 Biblical Introduction treats of the Scriptures in their historical aspect. If we distinguish between a preparatory (taking that word in its widest sense) and an historical and critical introduction (which regarded as general includes both parts, but as special only the latter), there is no room for the question which has been agitated (Hagenbach’s Encyclopedia, p. 140), whether the literary history of the Scriptures as a whole and in their individual parts alone, or the scientific aids to Exegesis also, properly belong to such an introduction.[3] FIRST CHAPTER Preparatory Introduction § 2 ITS CONSTITUENT ELEMENTS The direct auxiliaries to the Explanation of the Scriptures are biblical antiquities, and the sacred languages; and as regards the present form of the text, biblical criticism and hermeneutics. Exegesis presupposes all these sciences, and they in turn presuppose exegesis. The circle which is involved in this statement is not logical but real, i. e., science must learn to know the particular through the universal, and the universal through the particular. From the central point between the universal and the particular, it oscillates between the two extremes, which intuition harmonizes. SECOND CHAPTER Preparatory Introduction: Its constituent parts so far as the text is concerned I. The Old Testament Archæology § 3 BIBLICAL ANTIQUITIES OF THE OLD TESTAMENT It is defined mainly by the forming principle which constitutes its unity: here, the character of the Jewish people. Regarding this people in its local relations we have Biblical Geography (especially physical), and in its relations to time, Biblical Chronology; then in its relations to nature, the physical science of the Bible, and in its relation to the race, Biblical Ethnography; then in its more vital relations, the Theocracy, embracing the history of the Biblical Cultus and Civilization; and lastly in its relations to History, biblical history and international relations. For the literature of the Old Testament Antiquities: De Wette: Lehrbuch der hebräisch-jüdischen Archäologie (1842).—Ewald: Die Alterthümer des Volkes Israel, 1848, 1854. [This is a very suggestive work.—A. G.] Keil: Handbuch der biblischen Archäologie, 1858. Bertheau: Zur Geschichte der Israeliten, 1842; Hagenbach’s Encyclopedia, p. 136; and in Keil, p. 13. Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed. p. 17. Archæology, [Preston: Student’s Theological Manual, London, 1850. Jahn’s Biblical Archæology, translated by Upham, New York, 1853.—A. G.] § 4 THE ISRAELITISH PEOPLE AND SURROUNDING NATIONS Heathen nations, in their pride and presumption, trace their origin back through various steps to the Gods, or demigods (Tuisko, Brahma, Deucalion, &c.); but the Israelitish people is satisfied to trace its origin from Abraham, the Friend of God. Because it enters into the history of the world as the people of faith, therefore, also as the people marked by humility in its claims. Heathen nations speak of ancient historical glory which is entirely fabulous; the people of Israel with a far truer historical sense, acknowledges the comparatively recent date of its origin. According to Jewish tradition and history Abraham lived about 2000 years B. C. China and Egypt were then thoroughly developed, well-known historical kingdoms, with the traditions of a thousand years in the past. In their historical name, as they are known in the language of other nations the Israelites are Hebrews (עִבְרִים); according to Ewald, Lengerke and others, from the Patriarch Heber (Genesis 10:25; Genesis 11:16); but according to Hengstenberg, Kurtz (Geschichte des Alten Bundes, p. 132), they were called by this name since they came from the other side, i. e., across the Euphrates (עֵבֶר the land upon the other side, here the other side of the Euphrates). It may be urged in favor of this derivation that they were so called by foreign nations, who would naturally be better acquainted with their geographical, than their genealogical origin. They always called themselves after the theocratic honored name of their ancestor Israel. They were a people who wrestled with God in faith and prayer. After the exile, the name Jews passed from the tribe of Judah to the whole people, of whom that tribe was the central point, and they were usually so called by foreign nations. See Winer: Article Hebrews. Bleek: Einleitung in’s Alte Testament, p. 72. An article protesting against the prevailing view, may be found in the Kirchen-lexikon von Wetzer und Welte. Article Hebräer. The Israelites, as Hebrews, or immigrants into Canaan, may have exchanged their original Aramaic tongue for the Hebrew as their first historical language. (Bleek’s Einleitung, p. 61.) This would be only in accordance with what actually occurred under the New Covenant, when the Hebrew Christians exchanged their own language for the classic language of the Greek and Roman world. In both cases, is the appropriated language moulded into an entirely new language, through the power of the religious spirit. We leave it undetermined however how far this question must be regarded as already settled. [There is a very able article in the 2d vol. of the Biblical Repertory in which the author defends the antiquity of the Hebrew language.—A. G.] As to their genealogy, the descent of Israel from Abraham, and more remotely from Shem, forms the very kernel and soul of their authentic traditions; while the relation of other Semitic tribes to their ancestors is involved in uncertainty. See Genealogical table Genesis 10 Kurtz: History of the Old Covenant. The origin of the Covenant people, i. p. 129. The essential question here is this: what is the fundamental characteristic, the distinguishing feature of the Israelitish people. When God chose this people as his own, although it was a stiff-necked people (Exodus 32:9; Exodus 33:3); although it possessed no art, science, political system, like that of the Greeks and Romans (see Introduction to Röhr’s Geography of Palestine); it does not follow that the choice was arbitrary, without a reason in the divine mind. Corresponding to the divine choice, there was a human disposition or quality, which God from eternity had designed, for the individual or people of his choice, and which he actually communicated in its origin. The striking peculiarity of Israel is the great prominence of the religious (Semitic) element in reference to God, which is found in its highest and most genial form in this people; in contrast to the prominence of the Ethical (Japhetic) element in reference to the world. Israel therefore is preëminently a people of religion, not of art and science like the Greeks, nor of politics and law like the Romans. We may say indeed that it is a people of dynamic, not of dead formal forces or principles. As the people of God, which out of a profounder originality, introduces and unfolds among the hoary nations a new life, it places its living religion in opposition to the formal and lifeless Cultus of the heathen; its dynamic poetry, and its science of the one all pervading principle of the world, to the formal poetry and science of the Greeks; and its warfare and politics, animated and exalted by the great principles which actuate them, to the technical and unmeaning Roman politics and warfare. As it is itself an element of regeneration to the nations, so are its gifts for the gifts and arts of the nations. Hence it follows that Israel must possess that comprehensive nationality, in which all the peculiarities of the different nations must be mixed. Thus it was destined and prepared to be the maternal breast for the Son of Man, the man from heaven, the head of all nations. Thus for the Father’s sake, whose profoundest peculiarities it represents, and for the Son of Jesse, who is the flower and glory of humanity, it is the beloved people, the Elect One, Jeshurun, the favorite of heaven, the Apple of God’s eye, the typical Son of God, the type of the true Son of God to come, who is the fulfilling of its deepest faith and desire. Hence too in its darker aspect, its falls and crimes, it must represent the darkest side of humanity, and its worst characters, just as in its peculiarly chosen ones, its patriarchs and prophets, it may claim the noblest and most heroic spirits of the race. (See Lange’s Verfinsterung der Welt, p. 119.) The most distorted features of the Hebrew National Character are found in Hitzig: Introduction to Isaiah; in Leo: Prelections on the History of the Jewish State; in Feuerbach: Tractate upon the Nature of Christianity. The old heathen utterances of contempt for the Jews are recorded in Raumer’s Palestine, p. 396. Herder, Hegel in his Prelections upon the Philosophy of Religion, 2d part, pp. 42, 57. Ewald, and others have contributed to a more correct estimate of the Israelitish people. Franki’s Libanon, the family book of poetry, forms a collection of the poetical glories, and exalted estimate for the Jewish people (1855). The people of Israel must therefore from its very destination come into contact with the most diverse nations, with the astrological Chaldees from whom the family of Abraham sprang (Ur, Light in Chaldea. Abraham, in the starry night. Genesis 15:5); with the Babylonians and Syrians, ever oscillating between pleasure and despair (devotees of lust and moloch); with the cultivated but depraved Canaanites (Kurtz: History of the Old Covenant, i. p. 120); with the wisdom and lifeless Cultus of the Egyptians; with the excitable and prudent Midianites; with the kindred but still dangerously hostile Edomites, Moabites, Ammonites and Samaritans; with the haughty and contracted Philistines (for whose origin, see Kurtz, p. 185); with the skilful and ingenious Phœnician; with the pride and haughtiness of the Assyrian and Babylonian monarchies; with the moral intuitions, and tolerant spirit of the Persian world-power; with the culture and reason-worship of the Greek; and at last with the fateful, mighty, and cruel power of Rome. Upon this, as its fatal rock, after it had, under all these interchanges and influences, unfolded its whole character, in both good and evil, it broke to pieces as to its historical form or nationality, in an exterminating contest between the Judaic religious, legal spirit, and the strong political, and legal spirit of the Roman power. § 5 THE LAND OF CANAAN AND ITS POSITION ON THE EARTH The land of Canaan, or the lowlands of Syria, in opposition to Aram or the highlands (Gesenius, Lexicon, כְּנַעַן), the promised land, the Holy land, designated by many names (Raumer’s Palestine, p. 32), was appropriated as the chosen home of the chosen people, as the land holding a central geographical position, connected with the different countries of the civilized world by the Mediterranean sea, and yet insulated from them (C. Ritter: Der Jordan und die Beschiffung des Todten Meeres, Berlin, 1850); central also as to climate, lying midway between the debilitating tropical heats, and those colder climates within which life is supported only by hard labor; and central further as to its physical qualities between paradisaic fruitfulness, and sterile wastes. But so much has been written upon this land, in so many respects different from Asia, Africa, Europe, and yet so closely connected with them all, that we need only refer to the literature here. Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, p. 135. Von Raumer: Palestine, p. 2. The Bible Atlas of Weiland and Ackerman, 2d ed. (1845). Bernatz: Album des heiligen Landes (1856). Bible Atlas, by Kiepert (1858.) The plates, plans of Jerusalem, alluded to in Raumer’s Palestine. Also the Periodicals upon this subject. The Lands and States of Holy Scripture, in selected engravings with an explanatory text by Fred’k and Otto Strauss (1861). The description of the land in Kurtz’s History of the Old Covenant, i. p. 103. Zahn: Das Reich Gottes, i. Thl. p. 105. Lange: Life of Christ, ii. i. p. 24. Bible Dictionaries by Winer and Zeller. We would call special notice to the article upon Palestine in Herzog’s Real-Encyclopedia. Keil: Handbuch der Biblischen Archäologie, p. 15 ff. The Holy Land, by C. Tischendorf (1862). Lange’s Biblework upon Joshua. [Robinson: Researches, with the maps. The articles by the same in the Bibliotheca-Sacra. The articles upon Palestine by Thomson and Porter in the same periodical. Coleman: Biblical Geography, Text-book and Atlas. Wall-map by Coleman. Thomson: The Land and the Book. Article Geography in Angus’ Hand-Book. Wilson: Lands of the Bible. Kitto: History of Palestine. Travels by Olin, Durbin, Bausmann, Bartlett: Walks about Jerusalem. Aiton: The Lands of the Messiah, London (1854). Bonar: The desert of Sinai. Hackett: Illustrations of Scripture. Rohr’s Palestine, Edin. (1843). Stanley: Sinai and Palestine.—A. G.] § 6 CHRONOLOGY OF THE HISTORY OF THE OLD COVENANT, OR OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE See Gatterer’s, Ideler’s, Brinkmeyer’s Chronologie. Die Biographien der Bibel (1858). Hoffmann: Aegyptische und Israelitische Zeitrechnung (1847). Archinard: A la Chronologie sacrée, basée sur les découvertes de Champollion (1841). Biblische Chronologie mit Fortsetzung bis auf unsere Zeit, Tübingen (1851). Becker: Chart of Chronology, Leipzig (1857). Beiträge zur Geschichte des Alten Orients, by A. von Gutschmid, Leipzig (1857). Ewald: Geschichte des Volkes Israel, i. p. 274. The Article Year in Winer’s Bible Lexicon. Bunsen: Bibelwerk, i. p. 201 ff. Biblische Jahrbücher oder Vergleichende Zeittafeln für die Alttestamentlichen Geschichten vom Auszug der Israeliten aus Aegypten bis auf Alexander den Grossen. Keil: Archäologie, i. p. 345. [Browne: Ordo Sœclorum. Walton: Prolegomena. Bedford: Scripture Chronology. The Chronologies of Usher, Hales, and Chronology, as Introductory to his Church History, by Jarvis.—A. G.] The Chronology of the Old Testament, as it lies in the records, was not intended for the purposes of Science, but determined throughout by the religious point of view, to which all geographical, astronomical, and scientific interests are held subservient. Hence it has been said by the author of the Biographies of the Bible, “that among the mistakes of those who would find everything in the Bible, no one is more dangerous and wide-spread, than the attempt to construct a chronology from its pages.” In his later investigations, however, he has seen reason to modify his judgment, and says “In the Bible, Genealogy has far greater importance, and occupies much more space than Chronology. The value which the Hebrews placed upon their genealogical tables harmonizes with the whole system of their religion and law, and with their expectation of the Messiah. They had their genealogists, from the time that they became a definitely formed state, and this remarkable feature in their customs has acquired such a prominence, that they sometimes used the same word to denote genealogy and history.” It is this very remarkable feature which imparts its distinguishing character, its specific religious worth, its perfection even, to Biblical Chronology. In regard to this character the New Testament also in its dates holds closely to the Chronological key-note of the Old Testament; although in the Evangelists and Acts it frequently connects the Biographical Chronology of primitive Christianity, with the Chronological dates of contemporary general history. We can thus speak of a scientific imperfection of Biblical Chronology, which is perfectly consistent with its religious perfection, and which on this very account is of great service to the chronology of general history. The first imperfection is the want of an unbroken series of dates by years, starting from some fixed point in the history. The second, is the absence of a reference of the dates in the history of Israel, to the contemporary dates of general history. The particular enumeration of years of the Israelites are fragments, which are only joined together with difficulty. The references of Israelitish dates to those of foreign nations, especially of the Egyptians, sustain the most diverse combinations. Hence the results of the later determinations of Jewish Chronology differ so widely. It is only subsequent to the exile that the Jews have placed their mode of computation in connection with the chronology of general history by the adoption of the Era of the Seleucidæ. But in this precisely, consists the religious superiority of the Jewish Chronology, that it is throughout genealogical, just as the whole biblical monotheism is grounded in the principle of personality. The Israelitish history proceeds upon the assumption that persons, (we might say even personal freedom), are the prime forming elements of history; that the persons determined the facts, and not the facts the persons. Every nation, as indeed every religion, has its characteristic computation of time, through which it manifests its peculiar nature. Hence the Greek computes his time after the Olympiads, the Roman ab urbe condita, the Mohammedan from the flight of the prophet, with which the success of his religion was insured. The Israelite computes time by the genealogy of the Fathers of the race (תּוֹלְדֹת‍‍‍), by the ages of the Patriarchs, by the life of Moses, by the reigns of the kings. In addition to this there appear in the history general genealogies. But when all the Christian world reckons time from the birth of Christ, it only raises to its highest power the Old Testament principle of personality; since the years of redemption are the years of the universal life of Christ; a continuous fulfilment of the word, “who shall declare his generation?” But in this peculiarity the Jewish chronology has been of essential service to the chronology of general history. Just as generally the Old Testament has given the death blow to heathen mythology, so the Old Testament chronology, by fixing the antiquity of the human race to about 4000 years B. C. (for the different computations see the Biblical chronology, Tübingen, 1851, Preface, p. 1), has forever refuted the fabulous chronology of various heathen nations, e. g., the Indian, Chinese, Egyptian. The general historical view of the periods of the development of the human race before Christ confirms the correctness of the biblical assumption as to the remoteness of its origin. In Ewald’s view, the determination of the yearly feasts, which was in the hands of the priests, is of great aid in perfecting the Jewish method of computation. To the determination of particular years, was added the regulation of the periods of years, the Sabbath year (7 years); the year of Jubilee, which probably began with the fiftieth year (see Note 3, Ewald, p. 276). Then the Exodus from Egypt became a starting point for a continuous era, and (1 Kings 6:1) 480 years were counted from the Exodus to the founding of the temple in the fourth year of the reign of Solomon. So the residence in Egypt was fixed at 430 years (Exodus 12:40). In establishing these points the Israelites could avail themselves of the guidance of the Egyptian method of computation. According to Ewald, these two periods, the residence in Egypt, and the interval between the Exodus and the building of the temple, form the axes about which all the other determinations revolve. But as to the relations of the ancient Israelitish history to the history of other nations, Ewald points to the Egyptian Era of Manethon. To this Egyptian parallel Bunsen adds that of the Babylonian and Assyrian. After the exile the Jewish era runs in close connection with the Persian, through the reckoning of the reigns of the kings (Ezra 4:24; Ezra 6:15). Since the Syrian Empire the Jews fall more completely within the era of the Seleucidæ (1Ma 1:10). It is not our purpose to form a new chronological system of the history of the Old Testament, but rather to vindicate the idea of Old Testament chronology. We throw out here however some brief remarks upon the method of ascertaining some of the general points just alluded to. 1. It is decidedly incorrect for the author of “The Dates of the Bible,” in regard to the chronology of the Old Testament, to place the Samaritan text of the Old Testament, and the Septuagint, by the side of the Hebrew text, so that from their great diversities, he might infer that the biblical chronology was in the same degree unreliable. It is impossible that the Septuagint should rest upon traditions which will bear comparison with those of the Hebrew text. The same is true of the Samaritan Pentateuch. The Hebrew text has throughout the priority, and must therefore have the preference in any case in which they may be compared. 2. It is incorrect again to attempt to rectify Old Testament declarations by what are supposed to be different declarations of the New Testament, as has been done by Usher, Ludov. Capellus and others, more recently by Becker, in his Chart of biblical chronology. The declaration of Paul (Galatians 3:17) agrees with that made (Exodus 12:40), if we take into account that the promise was not only confirmed to Abraham, but to Isaac and Jacob. The 430 years would thus date from the origin of the Israelitish people, after the death of Jacob, to the Exodus. It is more difficult to explain the relation of the 450 years which the Apostle (Acts 13:20) defines as the period of the Judges, to the declaration (1 Kings 6:1), that the period from the Exodus to the erection of the temple was about 480 years. A diversity exists here in the Jewish tradition, since even Josephus (Antiq. viii. 3, 1) reckons 592 years from the Exodus to the building of the temple: thus assigning 443 years as the period of the Judges, while 1 Kings 6:1 fixes 331 years as the length of that period. Either the Apostle intimates in the ὡς, that he fell in with the traditional indefinite reckoning, or the declaration reaches back, and includes Moses and Joshua among the Judges, (as they in fact were,) as it reaches forwards, and includes Samuel. In the determination of the bondage in Egypt to 400 years in the speech of Stephen, it is probable that, according to the promise, (Genesis 15:13), the round number of 30 years at the beginning of the residence in Egypt, was fixed as the period of the happy existence of the Israelites there, and must be subtracted from the entire period of their residence. 3. It is not our province, nor are we in a position to criticise the assertions which Bunsen makes in regard to the Egyptian, Assyrian and Babylonian chronologies (compare the criticism by Gutschmid). In any case he has performed a great service in bringing the Jewish era in relation with these chronologies; which he has done at a vast expense of learning and toil. We must, however, bring out more clearly the doubt which a more complete scientific combination has to remove. In the first place, it seems without any adequate foundation that a chronology beyond the influence of the Theocracy should be presented as an infallible measure for the biblical declarations, as much so indeed, as if generally an unquestioned right should be conceded to Josephus against the Old Testament, and Evangelic history. In the second place, the determination upon this ground of the dates of Jewish history seems to us, to a great extent, questionable. In the third place, it is a result which no one should hastily concede, when the 480 years (1 Kings 6:1), from the Exodus to the founding of the temple are here reduced to less than 352 years. We must leave it to a special investigation, to ascertain these points more certainly. The most certain dates for the determination of Jewish Chronology, are those of Nebuchadnezzar and Cyrus. The conquest of Jerusalem by the former monarch, or the beginning of the Babylonian captivity, is assigned, not only by Bunsen, but by Scheuchzer and Brinkmeyer, to the year 586 (not 588) B. C. The return of the Jews from Babylon, according to the ordinary computation, took place 536 B. C. according to Bunsen and Scheuchzer 538. From that time downwards, the Jewish computation is determined by the Era of the Seleucidæ, which follows the era from the beginning of the Captivity in Babylon, or the destruction of the first temple. It begins with the year 312 B. C. A following era, reckoning from the deliverance in 143 B. C., gives place again to the computation used under the Seleucidæ, upon which follows the present computation of the Jews, the world era, beginning 3761 B. C., and divided into three great periods, the first reaching to the Babylonian Captivity, the second from that event to the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, the third from that time to the present. From the Babylonian Captivity, going backwards, we reach the first point in the Jewish computation, through the sum of the reigns of the Jewish Kings. It has usually been fixed at 387 years, and the beginning of the reign of Rehoboam placed at 975 B. C. Bunsen places it in 968, and thus, if we follow his method of determinations, as it seems to be confirmed by the Egyptian dates of King Shishak (Sisak, who plundered Jerusalem in the third year of Rehoboam,) we bring out the round number of 382 years for the reigns of the Kings. Solomon reigned forty years, and laid the foundation of the temple in the fourth of his reign (1 Kings 6.) This would give 1004 as the date of the founding of the temple. Connecting the 480 years, the interval mentioned between the Exodus and the founding of the temple, and the Exodus must have occurred about 1484 B. C. It is usually placed in round numbers at 1500, but more accurately at 1493. Bunsen, however, places the Exodus between the years 1324–1328, more definitely 1326, (Lepsius 1314.) But the confidence with which this determination is fixed, is based principally upon the fabulous narrative by Manetho, of the events in the reign of the Egyptian King Menôphthah, (Bunsen, p. ccxii.) It is not credible that the simple, sober narratives of the Old Testament, are to be corrected by such a fabulous record as this (see Gutschmid, pp. 2, 10, 11, and 103, also, Knobel, Exodus, 112, 116 ff.; upon the more extended argument of Bunsen, 215, see Gutschmid, p. 23). If we add the period of the residence in Egypt (Exodus 12:40), 430 years, to the number (1 Kings 6:1), the entrance into Egypt, or the death of Jacob must have happened 1914 B. C. For the residence of the patriarchs in Canaan, according to Knobel’s computation, we may allow 190, or at the most 215 years. Abraham must therefore have entered Canaan about 2129. Knobel is inclined to reduce the 215 years, since in his view, the age of the patriarchs is placed too high, but, with Beer, Koppe, Ewald, and others, defends the 430 years, as the period of the residence in Egypt, against those chronologists, who follow the reckoning of the later Jews, and especially of Josephus, in whose view the residence in Egypt was only 215 years, with this remark, “that in these diverging computations too much stress has been laid upon uncertain genealogies.” The date of the entrance of Abraham into Canaan points to a period still more remote, which may be fixed with considerable accuracy, through the declarations in Genesis as to the lives of the Patriarchs, and which, beyond question, gives a vastly more probable age of the race than 20,000 years, assumed by Bunsen. For the lunar year of the Ancient Israelites, see Winer’s Real-Wörterbuch, Article Year. For their months, the article Months. Also Brinkmeyer, pp. 43, 44. § 7 THE NATURAL HISTORY OF PALESTINE (PHYSICA SACRA) Upon this subject we refer to the works at hand. Von Raumer’s Palestine, p. 69; Keil, p. 23, and other Geographical works. For the literature, see Hagenbach’s Encyclopedia, p. 239. Die Calwer Biblische Naturgeschichte may be recommended for its lively and popular style. [Robinson: Researches; The Land and the Book, by Thomson, a very interesting and instructive book; Dean Stanley’s work. Upon this and all other kindred subjects, the valuable Bible Dictionary by Smith, 3 vols.; Harris: Natural History of the Bible; Osborn: Plants of the Holy Land.—A. G.] § 8 BIBLICAL ETHNOGRAPHY See above, § 4. Kurtz: History of the Old Covenant. ii. p. 444. Lisco: O. T., p. 206, Völkershau. § 9 THE THEOCRACY We cannot comprehend the history of Israelitish civilization, without embracing the history of its worship, which lies at its foundation; nor this again without a prior view of the common root, out of which spring both branches, the history both of the worship and civilization of Israel, i. e., the Theocracy. It is the faith of Abraham, that faith by which he left his home (Genesis 12:1), not knowing whither he went, which makes him an historical personage. Israel, also, from nameless, unhistorical, servile tribes, became the most glorious people of history through the reception of the legally developed Theocracy at the hands of Moses. The obedience of faith was the constituent principle of the people. Hence it is the type of the church, that one people which the gospel has gathered out of all nations. Josephus ascribes the founding of the Theocracy, or the reign of God over Israel, to Moses (Contra Apionem ii.1, 6, see de Wette’s Archäologie, p. 179). But Moses stands to the Theocracy, or the religious community of the Old Covenant under the immediate guidance and control of Jehovah, just as he does to the Old Covenant itself, i. e., he is not the starting-point or founder, but one who develops it under its legal form: the mediator for the people of the grand theocratic principles, in the form of the fundamental laws of the Theocracy. The Old Covenant law or right, according to which the Church of God, at its very beginning, recognized its conscious dependence upon the Divine Providence, and entrusted itself with entire confidence to His marvellous care, while it walked in the obedience to His commands which faith prompts and works, began with Abraham, with whom the Old Covenant itself began. The symbols of this supernatural order of things, are the starry heavens over the house of Abraham, and circumcision, the religious and profoundly significant rite of his house. Abraham was justified by his faith in the word of promise, and in this begins the germ-like organic growth of the Kingdom of God, which hitherto only in sporadic portents, like individual stars in the night,—in the saints of the earlier times—had irradiated the nights of the old world. Hence the term Theocracy, as Aristocracy, Democracy, and similar terms, designates the principle of the government, not its form;[4] which is designated by the terms Monarchy, Hierarchy, Oligarchy. It is not the outward form of a political power or government. We cannot say, therefore, that the Theocracy ceased in Israel with the erection of the Kingdom. The division of Jewish history into the reign of God, the reigns of the Kings, and the reigns of the Priests, rests upon an error, which confounds the distinction between the immutable Old Testament principle of government, and the mutable political forms under which it appears. The reign of God does not exclude the reign of the Kings, as a form in which it appears; on the contrary it blooms and flowers in its representation through the regal power of David and Solomon, as before in its representation through the prophetical and judicial power of Moses and Joshua, and in later times in its representation through the priestly dominion of the Maccabean Judas and Simon. The organic principle of the divine dominion branches itself into the three fundamental forms under which Israel was led; the prophetic, kingly and priestly. Hence the Providential leading of Israel, we may say indeed, the consciousness of the dominion and leading of Jehovah, endured in Israel, under the Kings as under the Judges, in the Kingdom of the ten tribes as in Judah, by the rivers of Babylon as in Canaan, however much the prevailing unbelief and apostasy of the many could transiently obscure that consciousness; and it was only when Jerusalem was destroyed by Titus, that despair filled the hearts of the people, in the consciousness that for some long, indefinite period, it had been rejected by Jehovah. But the typical form of the Old Testament theocracy, as it was established by Moses (Exodus 19:6), has now passed into the real New Testament Kingdom of God, the βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν, which had been already predicted by the prophets, especially by Daniel (Daniel 2, 7). The typical appearance of a people formed by God to the obedience of faith through His revealed word, led and protected by Him, has reached its fulfilment in the people of God, founded by His saving virtue and power, a holy commonwealth; and in truth, by the word of God, united in a human, spiritual life, and led to an eternal glorious Kingdom, which, in its introductory form, is begun here, and has its continuous, efficient organ in the Christian Church. Thus Abraham, in his righteousness of faith, stands as the living type of the Kingdom of God, but the type of the whole theocratic culture is its altar, as the type of the whole theocratic civilization is the shepherd’s tent. § 10 RELIGION AND WORSHIP OF ISRAEL AND OF SURROUNDING NATIONS Abraham appears as an historical personage only through his religion, and the Israelitish people takes its origin from religion. Other nations have formed their own human religions in their own way, but here the divine religion, viewed in its relation to general history, makes its own point of departure, the father of the faithful, and the organ of its growth—the people of Israel. As the Greek tribes were formed into a people through their Hellenic culture, and the Roman tribes through the city of Rome and the Roman State, so in a more marked way has Israel grown to be a historical people through its religious calling. Even its natural origin was conditioned through faith (Genesis 15). It is not our purpose here to dwell particularly upon the faith of Abraham and Isaac; we will only give those periods which are noticeable in an archæological point of view. In the first place faith itself. 1. Monotheism and the Apostasy, or Symbolism and its heathen form, Mythology. 2. Calling of Abraham and the heathen, or Symbolical Typology, and Symbolical Mythology. Abraham separated from the people for their salvation. 3. The Patriarchal faith in its development, and heathenism in its ramifications. 4. The Mosaic legal institutions, and their counterpart in the Heathen world. 5. The development of the Mosaic law, and the idolatrous service of the surrounding nations. 6. The Prophetic elevation of the national spirit and the Apostasy. 7. The rending of the common public religious spirit, and its true concentration. Then follows the more direct solemn expression of faith, the Cultus: its pre-condition circumcision, its central point the sacrifice, its spiritual consecration prayer and instruction. The different stages of the Cultus are marked by the temporary and constantly moving tents of the Patriarchs (simple sacrifice), the tabernacle of Moses (the legal sacrificial system), the temple of Solomon (the fully developed liturgy), the second temple (the martyr sorrows of the people pointing on to the real sacrifice). All these points will be more thoroughly treated in their proper places. For the literature of Biblical History, see Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, pp. 189, 194, and 197; for the literature of Biblical Theology, p. 200. Also Keil: Archœology, p. 47. § 11 SACRED ART We have already designated the sacred art as dynamic. It is clear, therefore, that Poetry must here hold the first place, and after this the Song and Music: and then the Sacred Chorus or religious dances. Symbolical Architecture and Sculpture close the series, as painting seems to have been almost entirely neglected. For a correct estimate of Theocratic Art, the following points are of importance: 1. The religious element always outweighs and controls the moral. It is framed for the purpose of worship, not civilization. 2. The dynamic principle, as in all the theocratic relations of life, is of far greater moment than the formal. 3. All Symbolic Art has a typical signification, i. e., it not only serves the purpose of an æsthetic ritual, and of philosophic contemplation, but by virtue of a real efficient principle, of a seed of true spiritual life, ever strives to give the beautiful appearance or representation its complete corresponding reality in life. For the literature of Hebrew Art and Music, see Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, p. 139. Keil: Archœology, 2d vol. p. 182. Compare the articles Music and Musical Instruments in Winer. Also the articles upon the temple. For the Hebrew Architecture, see the article upon that subject in Hagenbach: Encyclopedia; Schnaase Geschichte der bildenden Künste, i.241. [The articles Music and Musical Instruments in Kitto: Encyclopedia. Smith: Bible Dictionary. Also the Bible dictionaries of the American Tract Society, Presbyterian Boards and Sunday School Union; Jahn: Archœology.—A. G.] § 12 THEOCRATIC LAW AND JURISPRUDENCE The fundamental principle of theocratic law and jurisprudence, is that estimate of personal life grounded in the vivid knowledge of a personal God, which leads first to a recognition of the fully developed personal life (personal rights), then to the protection and culture of the undeveloped, or as a matter of history, outraged (marriage rights), then to the awakening of the suppressed (rights of strangers), and lastly to the judgment upon those individuals and tribes who, through their unnatural sins and abominations, have subjected themselves as persons to the curse and destruction.[5] See Hagenbach, p. 139, under the heading, Staatsverfassung (Michaelis, Hüllmann, Saalschutz); J. Schnell: Das israelitische Recht in seinen Grundzügen dargestellt, Basel (1853). Compare Keil: Archœologie, ii. p. 196. [Commentaries on the Laws of Moses, J. D. Michaelis, English Translation, London (1814), Commentaries on the Laws of the Ancient Hebrews, by E. C. Wines, 2d edition, New York. The Biblical Encyclopedia and Dictionaries. Jahn: Hebrew Commonwealth, translated by C. E. Stowe, Andover and London; Lowrie: The Hebrew Lawgiver.—A. G.] § 13 ISRAELITISH WISDOM AND SCIENCE In no region is it clearer that all the developments of life among the Israelites are preëminently dynamic, than in the intellectual. The wisdom of the Hebrews has upon its theocratic grounds failed to reach the true science, as Greek science, upon its merely human grounds, has failed to reach the last and highest principles of true wisdom. But the theocratic faith, working in its dynamic direction, has laid the ground for the new birth of the ante-Christian, heathen science, as it has thoroughly refuted the theory of two eternal principles, of the eternity of matter, or as it has established that one profound, all-pervading view of the world which rests upon the living synthesis of the ideal and real, upon the assumption of the absolute personality. Since science is the striving after the highest intellectual or ideal unity, it cannot dispense with the Old Testament, if it would attain to its perfect freedom under the New Testament. We must be careful not to confound the relation of Theocratic Judaism, and post-Christian Judaism to science, with each other. For the Jewish science, see Keil: Archœology, ii. p. 162; Hagenbach, p. 134. § 14 THE HISTORY OF ISRAELITISH CIVILIZATION Periods.—The Nomadic state—the Bondage—the Conquest—time of the settlement and agriculture—commerce—the dispersion. I. Domestic Life 1. Marriage.—Its religious and moral significance. The Law of Marriage. The Marriage ceremony. The Marriage state in its moral influence and development. The family. Training of children. Domestics. Slaves. The house. 2. The house as a tent.—The dwelling. The village. The market place. The city. 3. The care and ornaments of the family.—Clothing. Jewelry. Luxuries. 4. The work of the family.—Production. Agriculture. Pastoral life. Hunting. Fishing. Mining. 5. The festivals of the family.—Home pleasures and joys. Society. Sports. Hospitality. Household sorrows. Sickness. Death. Burials. Usages of mourning. 6. Food of the family.—Laws relating to food. Meal times. II. Israel as a State The principle.—The Theocracy as above. 1. The organization of a community. a. The organic union of the tribes in the land. b. The organic division of the land among the tribes. c. The law of inheritance or primogeniture. 2. The establishment of government. The three states or conditions. Priestly. Prophetic. Royal. Urim and Thummim. 3. The establishment of law and jurisprudence. Laws. Judgments. Punishments. The place of judgment. The Sanhedrim. Law of the Zealots. [Nazarenes.—A. G.] The Prophetic Judgments. Judgment an act of worship. For the literature, see Hagenbach, p. 138; Keil, ii. p. 1. III. Social Intercourse 1. Commerce.—Its conditions, weights, measures, money. Its forms. Barter, caravans, traffic by land, trade by sea. For the Israelitish measures, Bertheau, Bunsen, i. vol. 2. Personal intercourse.—In the gate, visits, journeys, modes of travel. 3. Intellectual intercourse.—Writings and literature, theological schools, science, special sciences, cultus. 4. Art.—See Cultus. § 15 HISTORY OF ISRAEL See Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, p. 185. Lange: Matthew, Am. ed., the Introduction and the following paragraphs upon the theological and homiletical literature of the Old Testament. § 16 THE INTERNATIONAL LAW OF THE ISRAELITES The root of this international law lies in the first promise (Genesis 3:15), in the blessings of Noah (Genesis 9:25), especially in the promise to Abraham: “In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed (Genesis 12:3-7); and in its fuller explanation (Genesis 22:18), all the nations of the earth bless themselves.” The first declaration in what form this promise should fulfil itself, viz. through a holy Kingdom, is found in the blessing which Isaac gave to Jacob (Genesis 27:27); the second and more definite declaration in the blessing which Jacob pronounces upon Judah (Genesis 49:8). After establishing the pre-conditions (Exodus 19 a legal separation from the nations, and a legal association with them), Moses organized the tribes of Israel into a sacred camp, a warlike host, destined to carry on the sacred wars of the Lord. It enters at first upon the removing, or in a modified sense the uprooting, of a corrupt heathen people, for the purpose of founding a free Israelitish national life. The wider relations of Israel to the nations must be determined through its contact with them—in war and peace, according to the laws of war and treaties of peace. The victories of David awakened in him and in the people, for a time, the thought that he was called, with a theocratic political power, to found a sacred world-power, to which all nations should be in subjection. (2 Samuel 24.) But the thought met the severe punishment of Jehovah, who thus turned the mind of the Israelitish people, before the declining of its political glory, to a spiritual conquest of the nations. Solomon entered this path as a Prince of Peace, and reached great results, but he rashly anticipated the New Testament future, the premature individual religious freedom, which produced similar destructive results in Israel, with the later idolatrous intolerance. Since then the Jewish public mind has ever oscillated in uncertainty between the two thoughts of a spiritual and political conquest of the world; ever falling more decidedly under the influence of the latter thought—which even prior to the exterminating Jewish wars had made them the odium generis humani;—although the prophets with increasing distinctness and emphasis had made the external world-dominion dependent upon the inward spiritual conquest of the world, and therefore promised it only to the true seed of a spiritual Israel. The strict legal separation of Israel from the nations stands in contrast with its position between the nations, and its blessed intercourse with those who differed most widely from each other, in their whole spirit and tendency. Its Pharisaic and fanatical separation from the nations stands in contrast with its outward geographical connection with them (See Lange: Geschichte des Apost. Zeitalters, i. p. 208 ff.) and its mingling with heathen nations of the most diverse tendency and spirit. It is by pushing its particularism to its utmost limits, that Israel has brought about its own dispersion among the nations. Concerning the Israelitish international law, its warfare, the celebration of its victories, and the treaties of peace, see Keil, ii. p. 289 ff. [The popular works on Biblical antiquities may be consulted, but the information which they give is—perhaps necessarily—imperfect and unsatisfactory.—A. G.] 2. The Languages § 17 THE PROVINCE OF OLD TESTAMENT LANGUAGES In determining the province of Old Testament languages, it is essential that we should have a correct idea of the distinction between the genius of the Semitic languages, and that of other languages, especially the Indo-Germanic family. It appears from this, that the Semitic idiom, owing to its directness, heartiness, and so to speak inwardness, possesses in a high degree a fitness to express the religious and moral aspects of doing and suffering, the moral affections and distinctions; while it wants in an important sense, the opposite characteristic of indirectness and reflectiveness. In particular, the Hebrew language, with the Greek, thus the language of the Old Testament, with that of the New, forms the broad contrast of the most complete direct method of expression, with the most perfect vehicle for expressing the results of philosophic thought and reflection. Both peculiarities are however fused into one, in the language of the New Testament, as the higher and new-created form of speech. For the literature, see Hagenbach, p. 122; Bleek: Einleitung, pp. 37 and 103 [also Havernick: Introduction to the Old Testament.—A. G.] § 18 THE OLD TESTAMENT LANGUAGES—LEXICONS See the list of Hebrew Dictionaries and Concordances in the Commentary on Matthew, p. 17 (Amer. ed.). J. Fürst: Hebrew and Chaldee Dictionary of the Old Testament, with an appendix containing a brief history of Hebrew Lexicography, 2 vols. Leipzig, 1857. [Second ed., 1863. English translation by Davidson, London and New York, 1867. Fürst does not supersede Gesenius. Comp. also B. Davidson and Bagster’s Analytical and Chaldee Lexicon. London, 18 8.—A. G.] § 19 THE OLD TESTAMENT FORMS OF SPEECH—GRAMMARS Olshausen: Hebrew Grammar. Grammaire Hebraique de J. M. Rabbinowicz. Paris, 1862. See Lange’s Matthew. Am. ed. page 17. [Gesenius, Ewald, Bush, Stuart, Nordheimer, Conant, Tregelles, Green.—A. G.] § 19 REMARKS The development of the Old Testament forms of speech is pervaded throughout by a profound, earnest, moral and religious spirit. Even if the heathen nations of Canaan used this language, and notwithstanding all these moral treasures, have, through their awful corruption, grown ripe for judgment, this does not alter the fact. For these tribes may have put on the Semitic language as a strange garment, or they may have fallen even from the heights of its spirituality, and therefore have fallen so low. The Scripture itself testifies that their decline was gradual. We must distinguish also between the elementary ground forms of the language, and its religious and moral development in Israel. We call attention here to a few striking examples of the profound spiritual significance of the Hebrew forms of speech. נחם is in Kal, to groan, sigh, be moved by suffering, in Niphal is to have compassion, in Piel to comfort. The spirit of the language thus informs us, that the power to give comfort depends upon our compassion, and this in turn grows out of our suffering; לחם is in Kal to eat, to consume, in Niphal mutually to devour, i. e., to carry on war; ברך is in Kal to bow, to bow the knee, to beg, to implore, in the intensive Piel to bless, to secure one’s happiness. The so-called different species have the peculiarity that they bring into view the moral act, in all the distinctions of doing and suffering, and of the reflecting self-determination of the man. And how rich moreover is the Hebrew language in its expressions, fitted to convey the more direct life of the soul and spirit. See Stier: Neugeordnetes Lehrgebäude der Hebràischen Sprache. For the literature of the Philologia sacra, see Hagenbach, p. 122 ff. THIRD CHAPTER Preparatory Introduction. Its constituent parts, so far as the form of the Text is concerned. Old Testament Hermeneutics § 21 LITERATURE See Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, pp. 162 and 165 ff. [The principal English Works are W. Van Mildert, An Inquiry into the general principles of Scripture Interpretation (Oxford); T. T. Conybeare’s Bampton Lectures; Davidson: Sacred Hermeneutics; Fairbairn: Hermeneutical Manual; Ernesti: Principles of Biblical Interpretation, translated by C. H. Terrot, Edinburgh (1843); Seiler: Biblical Hermeneutics, London (1855).—A. G.] § 22 THE NECESSITY FOR A NEW CONSTRUCTION OF BIBLICAL, ESPECIALLY OF OLD TESTAMENT, HERMENEUTICS That there is some reform needed here is clear from the fact that modern criticism, as the assumed last sound result of the grammatical and historical explanation of the Scripture, rejects from the sacred records of the anti-heathen concrete monotheism, i. e., from the Old and New Testaments, any heathenish idea or representation, or rather brings these same notions and representations into the whole sacred text. As heathenism springs directly from this, that the idolatrous mind lays undue stress upon the bare letter in the book of creation; that it separates and individualizes its objects as far as possible; that it places the sense of the individual part, in opposition to the sense of the whole, to the analogia fidei or spiritus which alone gives its unity to the book of nature, while it dilutes and renders as transitory as possible the sense of the universal or the whole; so precisely modern unbelief rests upon an exegesis which opposes all analogy of faith, which presses and even strangles the letter until it is reduced to the most limited sense possible, while it suffers the more universal and historical in a great measure to evaporate in empty, general, or ideal notions. As heathenism laid great stress upon the letter in the book of nature, it fell into polytheism. The particular symbol of the divine, or of the Godhead, became a myth of some special deity. A God of the day and the light was opposed to a God of the night; a God of the blessings of life and of happiness, to a God of calamities and of evil; a God of the waters, to a God of the fire; and finally, the God of one idea to the God of another; the God of one thing to the God of other things; i. e., one Fetisch to another. The final goal of Polytheism was Fetischism. On the other hand, the grand unities of the text of nature, and with these of history, the revelations of mercy, truth, peace, and beauty were not embraced in one living concrete unity, in the idea of a personal revelation, but were diluted into the abstract unity of the one pantheistic one; the one everywhere appearing and then vanishing, formless, impersonal, divine being. Pantheism ends, when pushed to its legitimate consequences, in Atheism. The two fundamental laws of human thought, a true analysis and synthesis, were used in a false method, since they place in their room an abstract absolute analysis and synthesis, and then to escape from the intolerable opposition, they mingled all distinctions and combinations into a confused mass, and then separated the mass again in the same fantastical manner. This could only issue on the one hand in a pantheistic polytheism, and on the other in a pantheistic dualism. Modern criticism presses the letter of scripture in a direction opposed to Cocceianism. If Cocceius transforms all places in the scripture, from the seed to a tree, and forces into it an utterance of the whole developed truth of revelation (e. g., the Protevangelium), this criticism inverts his whole method, since it circumscribes the letter within the narrowest signification possible. Thus, according to its method, Christ, according to the gospel by Matthew, must have ridden upon two asses at once; the Apostle Paul must have conceived of Christ as in his being, physical light; John must have denied him the human soul and spirit, because he says: “the word was made flesh;” Jehovah must have in heaven a literal palace; and the speaking with tongues must have been a mere stammering or jargon. This is the mere logomachy into which this modern Talmudism relapses, like the Jewish Talmud, seeking to interpret the scriptures in a heathen method. On the other hand, this same criticism evaporates the more general truths of sacred scripture, especially those which are at the same time historical, into mere abstract generalities. Thus, e. g., the birth of the Godman, is nothing more than the birth of the theanthropic consciousness; the resurrection of Christ only the re-awakening of the idea of Christ; the whole eschatology nothing more than the symbolism of the immanent and progressing world-judgment. The Alpha and Omega of Christianity, as indeed of all revealed religion, is the living synthesis of spirit and nature, of idea and fact, of the divine and human, finally of the Deity and humanity; and the central point, the key and measure of all the doctrines of revelation, and of all true interpretations of scripture is the great watchword: “The word was made flesh.” The modern pseudological criticism consists in the disruption of this synthesis. The letter is taken as the mere word of man, and the historical fact as a purely human event, while, in truth, in the form of symbolical declarations, the universal religious ideas, the eternal facts of the spirit, are brought into light only through these ever varying human ideas and facts. There is no unity. For both the personality lying at the foundation, the alpha, and the glorified personality, the omega, are wanting; and instead of this, there is only within the disturbing and blinding influence of the material world, the gradual progress from one ideal unknown to another, lying still further in the region of the unknown. The last result of all spiritual hopes and expectations is the absolute riddle. It must be granted that this exegetical method has its precursor in the poverty and shortcoming of the orthodox exegesis. Even here we find to a great extent, an extreme literal exegesis in a perpetual interchange with a fabulous allegorizing of the scripture. What this literal exegesis makes comprehensible, and to some degree impresses, is the sense of the infinite importance of the biblical word, in its definite and individual form. What, on the other hand, the whole history of the allegoric interpretation of the scripture declares is, that conviction, living through all ages of the church, of the divine fulness and symbolical infinitude of the scripture word. The four-fold and seven-fold sense of the allegorizers of the middle ages, is the rainbow coloring, into which the pure white light of the symbolical and ideal sense of scripture is resolved, to the mediæval longing and faith. But when adherence to the letter becomes so rigid that it denies any room for poetry in the historical statement, because it mistakes the idea, whose clothing is this symbolical poetry; when, e. g., it insists with stiff-necked obstinacy that the six creative days are six ordinary astronomical days; when it sees in the stopping of the sun at the command of Joshua, a new astronomical event: when it makes Lot’s wife to become a real particular pillar of salt, and Balaam’s ass actually to speak in the forms of human speech; then it is justly chargeable with being dead and spiritless, and places weapons in the hands of unbelief. It is only pushing this view to its consequences, when the literal interpretation involves itself in absurdity. Moving in its circuit, this same unspiritual criticism changes the allegorical interpretation of particular parts of the solid words of the bible, into an allegorical interpretation of the entire word, and thus spreads over the firm monotheistic ground of the holy scripture, the variegated cloud covering of a pantheistic view of the world and theology. Although the text sounds throughout monotheistic, the idea must be taken in a pantheistic sense, since the text is nothing else than the polytheistic dismembered form of the one pantheistic spirit. The spirit of this criticism indeed so daringly inverts the true relation, that it transforms an entire historical apostolic letter, like that to Philemon, into an allegorical point of doctrine, while it inversely interprets an entirely allegorical and symbolical book, like the Apocalypse, as if we must understand it literally throughout. But the assumption of the mythical character of the sacred books is the grand means by which this fleeting misty spirit of modern pantheistic ideas is bound in with the rigid crass literal sense. In reference to the Old Testament, many theologians who are firm believers in revelation, have held that the theory of mythical portions could not be erroneous, if they would not be involved in the untenable results of the literal exegesis. The modern interpreter of the scriptures, in his explanation of large portions of the Old Testament, thinks it necessary, as the only solution of difficulties, to choose between the mythical, or purely literal theory. This alternative is accepted, especially as to the creative days, paradise, the marriage of the sons of God with the daughters of men, and points like these. But even this alternative is fundamentally erroneous. It mistakes the A B C for the full understanding of the principle upon which the bible is written, the truth, viz., that the peculiar subject matter of the theanthropic revealed word must have a peculiar form. The bible contains ἅπαξ λεγομενα not only as to its subject matter, the miracles, and as to its form, peculiar forms of expression, but is itself, in whole and in part, an ἅπαξ λεγομενον as to its contents, and therefore necessarily as to its form. We apply this to the Old Testament. The Old Testament, as containing the records of concrete monotheism, or rather of the concrete monotheistic revealed faith, cannot contain any myths. It can and must indeed contain historical statements, which so far and no farther, resemble myths as the melon resembles the gourd, or the parsley the hemlock. But no one need be deceived by the most striking resemblances. Is it not true, in the first place, that mythology is the peculiar living garment, the unalterable form of heathenism, especially of heathen polytheism? Is it not true, secondly, that the Old Testament, with its monotheism, forms the great historical antagonistic contrast to the heathen polytheism? Is it not true also, thirdly, as Hegel has said, that the true form can never be separated from the contents, but must be determined throughout by them? But then it is inconceivable that the Old Testament should have carried out its antagonistic opposition to the subject matter of heathenism, by using the specific form of heathenism, i. e., by the use of myths. It is inconceivable because the myth is a religious statement, in which the consciousness has lost the distinction between the symbol and the symbolized idea. In other words, the myth as such is never barely a form. In it the idea has lost itself in the image, and is bound there until the day of future redemption. On the other hand, the very nature of the Hebrew view and idiom consists in this, that it first clearly grasps the distinction between God and the world, between his spirit and his signs, and then establishes the distinction firmly. Hence even in all its individual parts as a revelation of faith, it has kept itself ever awake to the consciousness of the distinction between its images and the realities to which they correspond. To such an extent is this true, that to avoid being entangled in any one figure, even when it is purely rhetorical, the Hebrew in some way changes his poetical statements and expressions, a fact which appears strange to one accustomed to the constancy with which figures are used by classical writers, e. g., see the 18th and 21st Psalms. Mythology not only elaborates individual figures, but strings one to another until it forms a complete mythical circle. Finally, the myth as such has no historical efficiency or results. It is the form of a passive lifeless religion. Religion, having life and activity, must have a form suited to its inward nature. The Old Testament, as the record of the revealed faith, contains no merely literal historical statements, in the same sense in which profane history contains them, which records facts for the sake of the facts, and in its practical instruction goes no further back than to second causes, and oftentimes to those only which are most obvious and familiar. We must distinguish clearly between the religious history of the scriptures and common history. Not of course in the sense that it is less historical, or less a narrative of facts, but in the sense that it presents the fact in the light of its highest first cause, its idea, its symbolical import, and therefore in a somewhat poetically elevated style. The biblical fact wears a poetical dress in its presentation, from a threefold point of view; 1. through its relation to the fundamental religious thought or idea, in which the writer comprehends it in the light of divine illumination; 2. through its relation to the fundamental religious thought of the book, i. e., its special connection with revelation in which the writer states it; 3. through its relation to the central thought of divine revelation itself, with which the Holy Spirit has connected it, whether the author was conscious of it or not. We take, e. g., the passage which speaks of the Cherubim, who after the expulsion of Adam and Eve, guarded the gate of Paradise, especially the way to the tree of life, with the flaming sword, The fact is this, that the first man as a sinner, was through the terror of God, driven forth from the original place of blessedness which he had polluted by sin. Viewed according to the religious thought or idea of the passage in and by itself, these terrors are angels of the Lord, personal manifestations of the personal and righteous God, who keeps man, guilty and subject to death, from any return to the tree of life (Psalms 18, 104). Viewed in connection with the fundamental thought of Genesis, these Cherubim are destined to keep man from the heathen longings after the old Paradise, and to impel him onward to the new tree of life, the religion of the future as it came to be established in Abraham (Genesis 12:1, Go out of the land of thy fathers). Viewed, finally, in its relation to the general spirit of the scriptures, these Cherubim introduce not only the doctrine of angels generally, but also the doctrine of the fundamental form of the Old Testament revelation through the angel of the Lord, and the angel of the divine judgments who is ever impelling humanity, through all history, from the threshold of the old paradise, to the open gate of the new and eternal paradise. As to the relation of a definite fact to the special religious idea, e. g., the expression, Lot’s wife looked behind her and became a pillar of salt, not only records, that through her indecision and turning back she was overtaken by the storm of fire, but also contains the thought that indecision as to the way of escape, begins with the first look after the old, forsaken goods of this life; and that every judgment of death upon those who thus turn back, is erected along the way of escape as a warning to others. As to the relation of the particular expression to the individual book, i. e., the fundamental view or purpose of the author, modern criticism would save itself a hundred vexed questions, from an inadequate conception and treatment of the sacred text, if it would proceed from this fundamental thought, and thus understand the arrangement of particular books, what they include and omit, their connections and transitions. These vexatious questions, e. g.,—Which of the three evangelists is the original?—Which of them is correct?—Which preserves the true connection and the original expression? would cease in a great measure, if we will only concede to the sacred writer, what we usually concede to other writers and artists, viz.: that he has a fundamental thought—a prevailing principle upon which he constructs his work. That the history of Joseph, e. g., is more particularly related than that of Isaac or the patriarchs, is closely connected with the fundamental thought or principle of Genesis, that it should narrate the history of the origin of all things, down to the origin of the holy people in Egypt, as that was brought about through the history of Joseph; and not only the history of the origin of this people, but of its exodus from bondage, which was in woven with the great crime of Joseph’s brethren, who sold him into bondage. As to its connection with the principle of scripture as a whole, this history is an expressive image of divine Providence, in its relation to human innocence and guilt, as it is destined to be the type of all the subsequent providential leadings of this nature, down to the history of Christ. In every particular fact, the religious idea of the absolute divine causality rises into prominence above all natural second causes. As the heathen is entangled and lost in second causes, so the theocratic believer must ever go back to the sovereignty and providence of God. He does not deny the second cause, since he rejects all one-sided supernaturalism, but clothes it in a new form in the splendor of Divine Providence. The Cherubim with the flaming sword appear later as the symbolic forms of Divine Providence (Psalms 104), as the Cherubim of the storm upon which Jehovah rides (Psalms 18), as the seraphim, the angels of fire, who should consume the temple of hardened and obdurate Israel (Isaiah 6). Even moral second causes, human freedom and human guilt, must be placed under the divine causality, and this not according to the assumption of a crushing fatalistic idea of Providence (Wegscheider), but according to the fundamental law of Divine Providence itself. When the Bible records that God hardened the heart of Pharaoh, it informs us also that Pharaoh was a despot and hardened his own heart; and further, that all his guilt was foreseen, and, under the righteous judgment of God, set for the glorifying of his name in the execution of the plan of his kingdom. That is a strong one-sided supernaturalism, which utterly denies not only natural but moral second causes, when they are not made prominent in the statement of Divine Providence, or, perhaps, notwithstanding they are made prominent. For the same reasons, the authors of the books of the Bible have not recorded all the facts of the sacred history remarkable to human view, with the same minuteness, but only the principal points in the development of the kingdom of God, through a given period of time. They devote themselves more to the pictures of personal life than to the description of their impersonal surroundings; to the creative epochs, than to the lapse of time between; to the turning-points of a grand crisis, more than to the after progress and development; rather to the great living picture of individuals illustrating all, than to an external massing together of particular things. The method of writing the sacred history of the Bible is like its chronology, its view of the world, throughout living, personal, dynamic. As to the connection of the particular books of the Bible, it is undeniable that the great profound, all-pervading formative element is the ideal fact of the saving self-revelation of God even to his incarnation, i. e., the soteriological messianic idea. As the direction of any given mountain range is determined by a certain concrete law of nature: so, much more is the formation of any individual part of the Canon. But as to its relation to the other parts, its outward connection and articulation, it cannot be denied that in the region of revelation, there must have been not only an inspiration of the records themselves, but of the records in their present form, and that it is just as one-sided to deny the traces of this inspired editing of the sacred records (Luke 1:1), as to enfeeble their testimony, by the supposition of an uncanonical biblical book-making; of a painful and laborious compilation and fusion of diverse elements or parts into one. Biblical hermeneutics cannot well deny that the monotheistic and theocratic traditions are older than the oldest written records. Neither can it deny that even since the art of writing was known, the living discourse, the oral narrative, the revelation through facts, is older, and in some sense more original, than the written word. But it asserts and must assert, that the written word throughout belongs to the region of revelation—to the very acts through which the revelation is made—and forms indeed the acme and the limits of sacred revelation. And as to the sacred tradition, it is not to be confounded with the idea of tradition as it is usually associated with the idea of the myth. The sacred tradition, in its wealth of religious ideas, lies back of the myth; the popular tradition, in the ordinary sense of the word, lies on this side of the myth, nearer to authentic history. The heathen myth is the heathen dogmatics, as they belong to the earlier age of any given heathen people. The popular traditions are the heathen ethics of the same people, an ethics exemplified in fabulous personages as they were concerned in the chief events of that people during the transition period, from its mythical to its historical age. We can trace this relation both through the Greek and the German traditionary period. In the blooming period of the ethical traditions the poetic, sceptical, trifling, even ironical transformation of the myth takes its origin. We can now distinguish by certain fixed characteristics the Old Testament symbolical statements from the mythical statements. The acute attempt of Schmieder to determine the relation between the religions method of writing history, and the ordinary methods in his essay: Preliminary to the Biblical history, 1837, does not lead to satisfactory results. See Lange: Positiv Dogmatik, p. 385. The general distinction:—it is all true but is not all actual,—leaves the relation both as to quantity and quality, between the ideal truth and the historical events, so undetermined, that it will not avail to fix firmly the characteristics of Scripture, in its distinction from all myths, as from all ordinary historical writings in which events are traced to their causes. We have treated hitherto only of the biblical method of writing history, but we must now treat of the biblical method of stating things generally, in order that we may place in contrast the idea of the myth, and the counter idea of the scripture word, according as they stand connected with, or opposed to, each other. We may distinguish the historical and philosophical (or, more accurately, physical or philosophical) myths, and according to this distinction, we may view the Bible word in contrast to them, as to its facts, and as to its doctrines. The affinity between all mythology and the whole scripture, according to which the scripture and especially the evangelical history, may be viewed as the fulfilling of all myths; is the union of the idea and the fact, or of actual signs, or of words, to a symbol of the eternal, in the language of poetry. But even here the biblical fact is clearly distinguished from the historical myth. The latter has the minimum of reality only, perhaps the mere moral longing or wish, or it may be some facts of the popular or heroic natural life, brought by a poetical symbolism into union with an idea, and made to be the bearer of that idea; while the biblical fact always has an historical basis, whose greatness and importance is felt throughout the history of the kingdom of God; one particular event, which has reached its peculiar definite expression in the light of its universal significance. The biblical fact through its ideal transparency has been raised from an individual to a general fact, and thus became a biblical doctrine. Its unessential individual form may have disappeared in the splendor of its idea, but the total fact remains. On the contrary, the element of reality which lies at the foundation of the historical myth, is to such an extent transformed by the ideal poetry, and its historical actuality is so far unsusceptible of proof, that it becomes more or less a question whether there is such an element or not. But as the biblical facts have throughout the splendor of ideal truths, so the biblical doctrines have throughout the energy of facts. They are facts of the active religious consciousness, clothed with so decisive an energy and significance, that we may view them as the eternal deeds of the Spirit, presented in the clear distinct light of particular passages, e. g., the Psalms, Proverbs, the Sermon on the Mount. This historical character of the action is wanting in the philosophic myths. We understand them first, when we have rescued through Christianity the philosophical and moral doctrines which they contain. The myth itself waits for redemption from its bondage through the idolatrous sense, by the virtue of the scripture word. In its free form it appears as an ancient symbol. As to the chief distinction, we would prefer, for our own part, to distinguish in all myths physical, historical, and religious elements, and hence would class them as preëminently scientific, historical, or religious, as one or the other of these elements might come into prominence. To the style of the historical myth we would oppose the style of the Old Testament histories, to the style of the scientific (philosophical) myth the Old Testament doctrinal writings, to the predominantly religious myth the Old Testament prophetic word. As the preëminently religious myth forms the synthesis of the physical and historical, so the prophetic word forms the higher unity of the historical and didactic word. The science of hermeneutics therefore, as the hermeneutics of the prophetic word, must bring out clearly, that in this region all the historical is in the highest measure ideal and symbolical (e. g., the temple of Ezekiel, the concubine of Hosea) and all the didactic is destined in its eternal actual energy and results to reach beyond the Old Testament limits. We trust that these suggestions for the wider culture of biblical, especially Old Testament hermeneutics, may find useful illustration in our Biblework. But this must be borne in mind: we hold that particular parts of the Old Testament must remain to us in a great measure dark and inexplicable, so long as the distinction between the ordinary style of history, and the higher religions style, is not more firmly established, and consistently carried out. This holds true in our opinion especially of the books of Chronicles and the book of Esther, and, among the prophetical books, of Daniel and Jonah. Finally, as to the well-known distinction between the Semitic and Japhetic modes of speech, there is not only at the foundation, that misconceived and misapplied difference, the opposition between oriental directness and occidental reflectiveness, and further the opposition between the religious and secular view of the world in a mediæval sense, of the old and new time, i. e., of the spontaneous development of Pagan culture, and the derivative culture of Christian civilization; but also the opposition between the religious method of presenting history and doctrine, and the more pragmatic view of history, and the dialectic mode of teaching doctrine. It is evident, however, that such a distinction does not destroy the unity of the Spirit, the communion of ideas and faith between the two spheres. By the faith, Abraham must have understood essentially the same truths which any enlightened Christian, whether a theologian or philosopher, understands to-day. (For the promotion of Old Testament Exegesis through more correct hermeneutical principles, see Appendix.) Old Testament Criticism § 23 BIBLICAL CRITICISM AND ITS RELATED LITERATURE Compare Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, pp. 145, 150, 151. Hagenbach makes the science of Introduction preliminary to that of Criticism. We hold that this order must be inverted, since Introduction is impossible without Criticism. Biblical Criticism is the scientific examination of the Bible as to its historical and traditional form. It decides according to historical or outward, and according to real or inward, signs, as to the biblical origin of the sacred books, as one whole, and as individual parts, i. e., as to their authenticity and integrity. In the course of its procedure it passes from the examination and purging of the text, to its construction, confirmation and its restoration to its original form. It is thus, to follow Hagenbach, according to its sources of determination (or rules) outward and inward, according to its results (decisions) negative and positive, Criticism. We must observe, however, the manifold signification which has been attached to the contrasts between negative and positive Criticism (used now in a historical, and then in a dogmatic sense); between a lower and higher Criticism (now as a question upon the integrity and authenticity, now as a decision according to the existing witnesses, manuscripts, translations, or according to scientific combination, upon the spirit of various writings and passages). There can be no question that Criticism belongs to the most essential and vital functions of biblical theology. It Isaiah , 1. Necessary; 2. not merely a modern Criticism of recent date, but has existed from early time; and 3. like every theological function, it has been subjected to great errors, and requires therefore a criticism upon itself. [There is a large class of English works here, among which those of Hamilton, Jones, Walton: Prolegomena; Kennicott: Dissertations; Stuart: Ernesti; Davidson: Criticism; Gerard: Institutes of Biblical Criticism; Horsley: Biblical Criticism, London, 1810, may be consulted.—A. G.] § 24 DESIRABLENESS OF AN ORGANON OF CRITICISM It is remarkable that Theology, with an immense activity of the critical processes, is still without any well-formed theory of Criticism. We have on several occasions suggested that such an organon is still wanting. It should aim to establish all the leading principles for the theological and critical process, and then to exclude all unnecessary critical principles. The first fundamental position would be, that there must be an agreement as to the religious and philosophical criticism of Revelation and of Christianity itself. Starting from the modern philosophical assumptions of Deism and Pantheism, some have criticised exegetically and historically the biblical records, i. e., they have mingled in an unscientific manner philosophical and purely infidel prejudices, with real critical principles, in an unfair procedure. And it has occurred that the results of this critical blundering have been set forth and commended as the results of a higher criticism of the historical view (see Lange: Apostol Zeitalter, i. p. 9). It is most important therefore to determine first of all, in order to meet satisfactorily the religions and philosophical preliminary questions, whether one recognizes or not the idea and reality of a personal God, of his personal revelation, of his personal presence in the world, and his personal communion with the Elect, i. e., the souls of men awakened to the consciousness of their eternal personality. The organon of criticism places this recognition, or rather knowledge, at the very summit of its system, and denies to those who reject the living idea of revelation, the right and the power to engage in any scientific exegetical and historical criticism. Then it would be the aim in this first division of the Organon of criticism, to fix firmly the ideas of the originality, especially of the authenticity and integrity of the Bible. The first fundamental characteristic of biblical originality is defined in the Evangelic word, “the Word was made flesh,” i. e., by the supposition that in the whole region of revelation, we are dealing with an indissoluble synthesis of idea and fact, i. e., with personal life; but never with ideas without historical facts, and never with historical facts without an ideal foundation and significance. This is the very A B C of a sound criticism, over against which the latest spiritualistic critical fraud, which has spread from Tübingen through a part of the Evangelical church, must be viewed as a paganistic idealism, modified by its passage through Christianity; and according to which also the ultra supernaturalistic interpretation of biblical history, as a mere narration of events in their order from cause to effect, without ideal contents or form, appears a lifeless and unspiritual tradition of a fundamentally worldly Empiricism. The succeeding question as to the authenticity, is determined accordingly by this, that in every biblical book we must take into view its peculiar inward form derived from the spirit of the book, as well as its historical declarations. Still further, the different Genera scribendi must be determined as they are ascertained from the actual appearance of the biblical books, and from the spirit of Revelation. It is accordingly critically incorrect to insist that the book Ecclesiastes, according to its declaration, must be regarded as the work of Solomon, since we are here dealing with a poetical book, which may put the experience of the vanity of the world in the mouth of the Son of David. But it is critically incorrect also to deny that the Apocalypse is the work of John, since we are here concerned with prophetic announcements, which rest expressly upon the authority of the Apostle. True poetry does not assume a fictitious name, when it puts its words in the mouth of a symbolical and fit personage, but prophecy would, should it resort to the same procedure. Then as to the integrity of the biblical books, criticism must determine, as is evident from the countless variations in the text of the New Testament, and from the free relation of the Septuagint to the Old Testament, that from the earliest time the records of revelation in the sanctuary of the church of God, were not regarded as literal and inviolable documents, but as the leaves and words of the Spirit, and that notwithstanding this freedom the authentic word, as to all essential point, was held sacred. For with all the differences of the Septuagint, it is not possible to bring out of the Old Testament any essentially modified Old Covenant, and amid all the variations of the New Testament, we still discern the same gospel in all its essential features. In reference to both questions, however, it is evident from the relation of Genesis to the original traditions, of the Gospel of Luke to the records he had before him, of the second Epistle of Peter to the Epistle of Jude, from the resemblance as to thought and form in many passages between different authors (e. g., one between Isaiah and Micah), that we must explain not only the first origin and elements of the biblical records, but also the theocratic and apostolic form in which we now have them, as properly belonging to the region of canonical revelation. With regard to the rules or criteria of biblical criticism, the idea of actual revelation, i. e., of the effects of the living interchange between the personal God and the personal human spirit, forms the first rule. This involves, first, the recognition of historical facts belonging to true human freedom, as the Pantheist cannot regard them; secondly, the original religious facts, which are entirely foreign to Deism; thirdly, the specific actual revelation as it rends asunder the supposition of Dualism. Without the recognition of the historical, the religious, the theocratic heroism, we have no rule for the critical examination of the contents of the sacred scripture. Then, in the second place, we must fix firmly the idea of human personality awakened and freed through the personality of God, as it involves a complete originality both as to its own views and productions. As the Bible throughout is an original work of the Spirit of God, so each individual book is an original work of the chosen human spirit who wrote it. Innumerable questions which criticism is inadequate to solve, find their solution here. To ascribe, e. g., the production of the second part of Isaiah to the Scribe Baruch, or to Mark the authorship of the original Gospel, after which the other synoptics in a most extraordinary way have copied, or the Epistle to the Ephesians to an imperfect impression taken from that to the Colossians, or the Apocalypse to John Mark as its author, rests upon the failure to estimate properly the originality of the biblical writer, the originality of his works, and the connection between the two. It is clear that, with originality, we concede to the writers of the Bible that thorough consistency of Spirit which is peculiar to a living, spiritually free personality. From the originality of Revelation as a whole, in its connection with the originality of the writers of the particular books of Revelation, arises the originality of the collection of the biblical books. They are the closely connected products of one peculiar intellectual creative forming principle; and therefore form one complete Canon, as they are one complete Cosmos, i. e., the organon of criticism presupposes the analogy of faith. But as it presupposes this analogy, it has at the same time to ascertain its essential elements out of its fundamental thoughts, i. e., the peculiar fundamental truths of biblical theology. With the existence of the analogy of faith, which reveals itself further in the analogy of the Scriptures, is determined the human side of the Holy Scriptures, agreeably to the historical differences and manifold forms, i. e., the germ-like incipience, the historical gradual growth, the regular development, the indissoluble connection, finally the perfect completion of its facts and doctrines according to the idea of revelation. § 25 THE PRINCIPAL CRITICAL QUESTIONS IN THE TREATMENT OF THE OLD TESTAMENT In the introduction to the Old Testament the following important critical questions hold a prominent place: the unity of Genesis, the Mosaic authenticity of the Pentateuch, the authentic historical character of the historical books following the Pentateuch, the age of Job (also as to its historical basis), the limits as to time of the collection of the Psalms, the authenticity of the writings of Solomon (and the import of the Song in particular), the relation between the first and second parts of Isaiah (Isaiah 40-66), between the Hebrew text of Jeremiah and the text of the Septuagint, between the book of Daniel and Daniel himself, the import of the book of Jonah, and finally the relation of the first part of Zechariah to the second (Zechariah 9-14). The ecclesiastical and theological interest in these questions will be essentially met and satisfied, if, in the first place, genuine historical records of revelation, flowing from the time at which the revelation was made, are recognized as the foundation, and to some extent essential component parts, of the writings in question; and if, in the second place, it is firmly held that the bringing of these records into their present form took place on canonical ground, within the sphere of Old Testament revelation, under the direction and guarantee of the prophetic Spirit. Under the energetic influence of these two positions, the canonical faith in the Bible, and a free critical examination, have approximated each other, and under their more perfect influence they will celebrate their full reconciliation. And if in the process some prejudgments of the ecclesiastical tradition must be conceded, so criticism in its turn must yield up a mass of thoughtless errors and exaggerations. Traditional theology will come into liberty through a proper estimate of the historical character of the biblical books; and criticism itself will be freed from the mistakes into which it has thoughtlessly fallen through a low estimate of the ideal contents of the sacred writings. Although there is much in Genesis in favor of the distinction of Elohistic and Jehovistic records, yet the fact made prominent by Hengstenberg and others cannot be denied, viz., that the names Elohim and Jehovah are throughout so distinguished, that the one prevails in those passages which speak of the general relation of God to the world, the other in those in which the theocratic relation of God to his people and kingdom rises into prominence. This contrast, embraced by the unity of the consciousness of faith in revelation, not only runs through the Pentateuch, but appears in a marked form in the opposition between the general doctrine of wisdom as viewed by Solomon, and the Davidic theocratic doctrine of the Messiah. It pervades the Old Testament Apocrypha, in the New Testament celebrates its transfiguration in the contrast between the Gospel of John, his doctrine of the logos on the one side, and the synoptical and Petrino-Pauline view on the other; and finally, in the opposition between the Christian and ecclesiastical dogmatism, and the Christian and social humanitarianism, runs through the history of the church, manifesting itself in the Reformation through the twin forms, Luther and Melanchthon, Calvin and Zwingle. The full influence of the increasingly perfect view of the great harmonious oppositions or contrasts in revelation, and the history of revelation, upon the minute analysis of the biblical test, is yet to be experienced. On the present state of the investigation, see Bleek: Einleitung, p. 227 ff. As to the Pentateuch, we recognize the following limiting positions of Bleek, while we differ from him in many particulars: 1. That there are in the Pentateuch very important sections which were written by Moses and in his time, in the very form in which we now read them. 2. That Moses did not compose the Pentateuch, as one complete historical work as it lies before us. The clearest instance in favor of the last position is obviously the record of the death and burial of Moses (Deuteronomy 34). As to the marks in Deuteronomy which point to a later origin, we must bear in mind that Moses was not only the Lawgiver, but the Prophet, and that at the close of his career in life, in the solemn review of his work, he would have a motive to prophetically explain and glorify the particularism of that economy which he had founded under the divine direction, by bringing out into bolder relief its universal aspect, which he does in Deuteronomy. In the essential portions of Deuteronomy, which we ascribe to Moses, he obviates, as far as possible, that pharisaic particularism which might grow up from a barely legal and literal interpretation of the books of the law, Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers. Deuteronomy is the repetition of the law, under the illumination of the prophetic spirit, in the light of the future of prophecy. As to those older records quoted in the Old Testament itself, as a basis for its statements, compare Bleek, p. 148 ff. We refer hero to 1. The book of the wars of Jehovah (Numbers 21:14-15, compare Numbers 5:17-18 and Numbers 5:27-30); 2. The book of Jasher (Joshua 10:13; 2 Samuel 1:18); 3. The book of the history of Solomon (1 Kings 11:41); 4. 1 Chronicles 29:29-30, for the history of David, a. The book of Samuel the seer, b. The book of Nathan the prophet, c. The book of Gad the seer; 5. For the history of Solomon, 2 Chronicles 9:29, a. The prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite, b. the book of Iddo the seer against Jeroboam the son of Nebat; 6. For the history of Rehoboam, 2 Chronicles 12:15, the book of Shemaiah the prophet and Iddo the seer; 7. For the history of Abijah, 2 Chronicles 13:22, the story (commentary) of the prophet Iddo; 8. There are constantly cited in the books of Kings: a. The book of the history of the Kings of Israel; b. The book of the history of the Kings of Judah. The latter seems to be that referred to in the books of Chronicles, as the book of the Kings of Judah and Israel: cited also 2 Chronicles 24:27; 2 Chronicles 9. 2 Chronicles 20:34. The historical book of the prophet Jehu, which is inserted in the book of the Kings of Israel; 10. 2 Chronicles 32:32, a book of Isaiah, upon, the Kings of Judah and Israel; 11. For the history of Manasseh, the histories or sayings of Hosai or seers; and in 1 Chronicles 27:24, a book of the Chronicles of David the King. If the post-Mosaic historical books of the Old Testament are rearrangements of original records, which belong to unknown authors, still the supposition of contradictions, of mythical portions, of the extremely late dates assigned as the time of their origin, is closely connected with a failure to estimate their more recondite historical relations, and their ideal and symbolical aspect. This is especially true in regard to the judgments formed upon the two books of Chronicles, and the book of Esther. That in the military sections of the book of Joshua he alone is spoken of, while in those which record the geographical divisions of the land, Eleazer acts with him; that in one place the official elders and judges coöperate, and in another the natural heads of the tribes; that under the military point of view the tribes are otherwise described than under the geographical,—these are distinctions grounded in actual differences. In the long period which the book of Judges embraces, the orthodox criticism obviously injures its own cause, when it denies the basis of more historical sources; since the supposition of such sources, so far from weakening, actually strengthens the trustworthiness of the book. That the point of view of the episode, Judges 17-21, is untheocratic, is entirely untenable. The two books of Samuel, which are plainly distinguished by the contrast between Saul and David, the rejected King, and the man after God’s own heart, point back through their ingenious and throughout characteristic style, to rich original records lying at their source. The books of Kings and Chronicles refer in various ways to the records upon which their statements rest. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah bear these names especially (as the books of Samuel), only because they speak of these men. This is obvious, first, because they were originally bound in one whole, and secondly, because in their present form they contain portions which point to a later date. It is equally clear that the original part of these books must belong to the men whose names they bear. The book of Esther, in the regulations for the feast of Purim, refers back to remarkable historical event. It contains too many historical indications to be regarded with Semler as fiction, and too much which appears literally improbable, to be regarded as pure history. It is probably the fruit of a fact, represented allegorically for the illustration of the truth, that the true people of God, even in its dispersion, is wonderfully preserved, and made victorious over the most skilful assaults of its enemies.[6] In this respect the book of Esther forms a contrast with the book of Jonah, which also represents allegorically a wonderful event, in order to illustrate the mercy of God to the heathen, and in opposition to the narrow-minded exclusiveness of the Jews. Hence we are able to explain the fact that the name of God does not occur in Esther, as indeed it scarcely occurs in the Song. The connection of an allegorical and poetical explanation, with the basis of historical fact on which it rests, is now generally admitted in reference to the book of Job. But here the character of a didactic poem comes into prominence. In the critical examination of this book, doubts in regard to the speech of Elihu will have to yield to any profound insight into its nature, since it obviously forms the transition from the preceding speeches, to the closing manifestation of God. From its universal character in connection with its theme, the innocent suffering of Job, it is well-nigh certain that its origin belongs to a time when the glory of Israel culminating in Solomon, was on the decline: the time of the fading glory of the Kingdom. That the Psalter in its original portions belongs to David, as the Proverbs to Solomon, is conceded even by the modern criticism. But it is evident from the division into five books, that the collection grew gradually to its present form. The existence of Psalms originating during the Exile is beyond question (Psalms 102, 137). But the attempt to place a large part of the Psalms in the time of the Maccabees, has been triumphantly refuted by Ewald and Bleek (Bleek, p. 619). The supposition that the heroic uprising of a people for its faith, must always have as its consequence a corresponding movement of the poetic spirit, is groundless. The Camisards, e. g., have sung the Old Testament Psalms of vengeance. But the Maccabees stand in a similar relation of dependence upon the Old Testament Canon, as the Camisards. Solomon stands beyond question as the original prince of proverbial poetry, as David is the first great master of lyric poetry. They shared in founding the highest glory of the sacred poetry and literature of Israel, just as they shared in the highest glory of the theocratic and political kingdom—in war and peace. They have indeed through their sacred poetry transferred the typical character of their political power into a prophecy of the true Messianic Kingdom, militant and peaceful. But just as the later Psalms have been grafted on to the original stock of the Davidic Psalms, so later proverbs have been added to the collection of Solomon. (1 Kings 5:12 ff.) On this ground the didactic poem—the Preacher of Solomon—in the use of poetical license is represented to be the work of Solomon. That the book is of later origin is clear both from its language and its historical relations (Bleek, p. 642). That the Song also is not correctly attributed to Solomon as its author may be inferred from its fundamental thought.[7] The virgin of Israel—the theocracy—will not suffer herself to be included among the heathen wives, religions, as the favorite of Solomon, but ever turns to her true beloved, the Messiah who was yet to come. We hold, therefore, that this poem takes its origin in that theocratic indignation which the religious freedom of Solomon—going in this before his time—and his numerous marriages through which he mingled with heathenism, occasioned. We may trace clearly the expression of a similar sentiment in the nuptial Psalm. (Psalms 45:11-13.) Modern criticism doubts less as to the originality and authenticity of the Prophetic writings. But it exercises its analyzing activity especially upon the prince of all Messianic prophets, the Evangelist of the Old Testament, Isaiah. We pass over here the different exceptions which have been made in the first part of the book which is recognized in the main as belonging to Isaiah (Isaiah 1-39). We remark in general that all critical grounds growing out of the prejudice against any prediction are unworthy of notice. The whole first part is throughout organically constructed upon that profoundly significant fundamental thought of the prophet, viz., that out of every judgment of God there springs to the same extent a corresponding redemption, so that we cannot easily assign the construction of this main part to a stranger. As to the second part of the book (Isaiah 40-66) we hold that the collected reasons urged against its genuineness will not stand the test. The first reason is this: the prophet would in these prophecies have placed himself upon that, to him, far distant standpoint of the Babylonish captivity as in his historical present, in order from that point to predict events still more distant in the future. This is not the method of the prophets, but it is the method of the Apocalyptics. If we distinguish the definite, artistic form of the apocalyptic vision from the more general form of prophecy, the first distinctive feature, as to form, is clearly the all-prevailing artistic construction, with which a poetical and symbolical expression corresponds. The second distinctive feature, as to form, appears in the regular progress from epoch to epoch in such a way that the seer ever makes the new point of departure in his vision, his ideal present. This latter formal distinction points to the first real, or material distinction between the two. Apocalyptic prophecy, more definitely than general prophecy, looks beyond the first restoration of Israel and the first coming of the Messiah, to the final restoration and completion. But with the more developed Christology, is closely connected a clearer and more definite statement of the great Antichristian power, which enters between the first and second coming of Christ. We regard then the second part of the book of Isaiah (Isaiah 40-66) as the first Old Testament Apocalypse. That peculiar and easily distinguished part of the prophecy of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 45-51) is clearly an apocalypse representing especially the typical Antichristian power. The apocalypse of Ezekiel presents in contrast the deep valley of death (and indeed the valley of death of the people of God still lighted by hope, and that of Gog and Magog into which hope sheds no ray of light) and the high mountain of God with its mystical temple thereon (from Jeremiah 37 to the close of the book). The book of Daniel is one peculiar Apocalypse. Among the minor prophets, Obadiah, Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah, may be viewed as apocalyptic books, which portray in a peculiar style the judgment of God upon Antichrist, as whose type, the first regards the people of Edom, the second Nineveh, the third Babylon, while the last sees the day of wrath breaking out upon the whole Antichristian power of the Old world. Edom is viewed also as the type of Antichrist in Isaiah (Isaiah 63:1–6) and in Jeremiah (Jeremiah 49:7–22). The entirely apocalyptic nature of Gog and Magog in Ezekiel (38, 39) is recognized and fixed in its place in the New Testament Apocalypse (Ezekiel 20:8), as indeed the stream issuing from the temple (Ez. Ezekiel 47) is then again taken up in its New Testament completion. As to the time which Isaiah in the second part of his book views as present, he has the prophecy of the Babylonian, exile (Ezekiel 39) as a presupposition. He takes his departure from this. In a similar way we find the future viewed as present in the Apocalypse of John; indeed, in the form in which he introduces the vision, I saw, the whole eschatological future in ideal progress passes before him. The most serious difficulty which meets us, in the second part of Isaiah, is the prediction of Cyrus by name, unless Cyrus is a symbolical and collective name. As to the differences in style, it would be a matter of some moment if the first part was marked by a soft, flowing expression, while the second was more intense, fiery, violent. But as the reverse is the case, the style of the first part belongs evidently to a young man, that of the second to riper years. Now and then indeed the youthful, ingenious play upon words, which marks the first part, appears in the second. It has been objected, that, upon the supposition of the genuineness of the second part, it is impossible to explain why in the justification of the threatenings of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 26:17-18), the elders did not refer to Isaiah as well as to Micah. But if according to tradition Isaiah suffered martyrdom in his old age under Manasseh, such a reference would have been out of place. That reference to the example of Micah seems to say, pious kings would never allow a bold, true prophet to be executed. The king of Jeremiah still claimed to be a pious king. The example of Manasseh therefore (we speak only of the possibility that the tradition was true) could neither be a proper measure, nor a fitting reference in the case. In favor of its genuineness we present the following argument. Men of the intellectual heroism of the authors of the second part of Isaiah, and the New Testament Apocalypse, cannot attribute their works to a name already renowned, if these works are presented as historical or prophetic testimonies. They must from their greatness stand in their own time as acting persons, who could not conceal themselves if they would, and would not if they could. A city set on a hill cannot be hid. There is the widest difference between the wretched apocryphal works, and such works of the highest grade in their kind. It is entirely another case also, when a poet introduces some historically renowned person as speaking. In his own time he was known generally as an author, and if a later time is not careful to preserve his name, but allows a poetical speaker to take his place, that is a peculiar literary event, from which no general principle can be drawn. As to the case of the poems of Ossian, McPherson owes his best thoughts to the old Celtic popular songs; his mystifying of his contemporaries was connected with peculiarities of character, of which we find no trace in the canonical apocalyptics. For the difference between the Hebrew text of Jeremiah and the text of the Septuagint, compare Bleek, p. 488. Our point of procedure in the decision of this question is the principal difference, viz., that the Septuagint inserts the peculiar Apocalyptic close of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 46-51) after (Jeremiah 25:13). We regard this interpolation as a decided weakening of the peculiar significance and importance of that whole section; and we think that as with this chief point of difference, so all the others must be decided in favor of the Masoretic text. Since the prophecy of Daniel, as a whole, makes the impression of an apocalyptic work, retaining its unity throughout, this circumstance must not be left out of view in the critical examination of the book. It does not however enable us to decide between the original predictions of the prophet, and the casting of them into their present form. Three cases are possible. First, that a later prophet has attached his visions to the name of the historical Daniel. Against this supposition see the remarks above upon the second part of Isaiah. Secondly, it may be held that some later person has wrought the original prophetic works coming down from Daniel, into a new apocalyptic form. The perfect unity between the contents and form of the book lies against this supposition. Then it remains that the book must be from Daniel himself. The difficulties which oppose this supposition are the following: 1. Why does the book stand among the Kethubbim and not among the prophets? It seems probable, that at the time the collection, the highly apocalyptic nature of the book, which connects it closely with sacred poetry, determined those who formed of the collection to distinguish it from the prophets in a narrower sense, with their less highly colored apocalyptic works. It may be urged in favor of this, that it has been interpolated by portions,[8]—most probably at the time of the Maccabees—which in their style are plainly in contrast with the rest of the book. The entire paragraphs (Daniel 10:1 to Daniel 11:44, and Daniel 12:5-13) are thus interpolated. Grave circumstances of the time have probably occasioned this interpolation, drawn from actual appearances in history, as also an interpolation in the second Epistle of Peter (2 Peter 1:20 to 2 Peter 3:3) from the Epistle of Jude, was occasioned by similar circumstances. It grew out of this interpolation, that the book should have its place among the Kethubbim, if it had not always stood there. 2. Why has Jesus Sirach (ch. 49) not even named the book of Daniel?—This would be decisive certainly, if there were not generally serious deficiencies in this author, and if in making his selection he had not in his eye those men who had gained renown, in respect to the external glory of Israel. In his view Daniel had by far a too free—unrestricted by Jewish notions—universal character and tendency. 3. Why do we not find some trace of the use of Daniel by the later prophets? In this connection it should be observed that the four horns (Zechariah 1:18) and the four opposers of Zion (Zechariah 6:1) appear certainly to presuppose the representation of the four world-monarchies (Dan. ch. 2 and 7). And so also the more definite revelation of the idea of a suffering Messiah in the second part of Zechariah presupposes the previous progress of that idea in prophecy (Isaiah 53; Daniel 9:26), 4. The difficulties which some have raised from the historical particularity of Daniel 10, 11, are met by the supposition above—that these chapters are a part of the interpolation. The intimation of Antiochus Epiphanes, in the little horn (Daniel 8), contains certainly a striking prediction, although not a prediction of Antiochus Epiphanes himself, but of that despotic Antichristian power which should arise out of one of the three world monarchies (not out of the last) which was fulfilled in that Antiochus. But it is certainly incorrect to identify the preliminary Antichrist Antiochus (Daniel 8:8) with the Antichrist imaged in Daniel 7:7. This last springs out of the ten horns of the fourth beast. On the contrary the goat (Daniel 8), i. e., the Macedonian monarchy, has one horn, out of which come the four horns, the monarchies into which the kingdom of Alexander was divided. Since the number four is the number of the world, this can only mean that the one, third-world power should divide itself into its chief component parts. With this goat of four horns, whose form is clearly defined throughout, the fourth animal (Daniel 7), whose form is very indefinite (and in which, in the face of the modern exegesis, we recognize the Roman world power), has no resemblance, but the third animal (Daniel 7), the leopard with his four wings of a bird, and the four heads. The wings of the leopard correspond to the swiftness of the goat, and the number four of his wings and heads with the four horns of the goat; while the fourth animal (Daniel 7) has ten horns. The image of the Antichrist (in Daniel 7) and of his judgment is much more significant than the image of the typical Antichrist (Daniel 8) and his judgment—which forms only an episode. Since at the time of Antiochus Epiphanes the Maccabeean family of the tribe of Levi gradually attained regal power, and therefore the announcement of the Messiah out of the tribe of Judah must have been thrown into the background (see the timid clause in favor of the future Messiah, 1Ma 14:41), it is very bold in the critics to refer a book so full of the Messiah, and in which all hope in any temporal Jewish dynasty disappears, to this very period of the Maccabees. In regard to the controversy as to the authenticity of the second part of Zechariah (Zechariah 9-14), it deserves to be considered, that the first suspicions against this section arose out of a purely theological misunderstanding. Since the quotation of the prophet Jeremiah by Matthew (Matthew 27:9-10) is not found verbally in Jeremiah, but appears to be taken from Zechariah (Zechariah 11:12-13), Mede conceived that the section (Zechariah 9-11) was written by Jeremiah. But Matthew actually intended to refer to Jeremiah, since for his purpose the chief thing was the purchase of the potter’s field, of which he found a type in the purchase of the field at Anathoth made by Jeremiah (Jeremiah 32). In this citation he now inserted the allusion to the passage in Zechariah which speaks of the thirty pieces of silver, without any express reference to it (see Lange: Leben Jesu, ii. Bd. 3. Thl. p. 1496). Out of this erroneous supposition that Zechariah 9-11 must have been written by Jeremiah, has arisen the prevailing question as to the second part of this prophet. Later, it was not so much the New Testament citation, as a collection of internal marks, which occasioned the doubt of the critics. But the criticism is so unfortunate as to undertake to transfer the second part of Zechariah to a much earlier date, and hence comes into collision with an important principle of biblical hermeneutics. The principle is this: The great biblical idea makes no retrograde movement in the course of its development, i. e., no movement from a more to a less developed, or from a more to a less definite, form. But as it would be retrograde movement of the Messianic idea, if the Servant of the Lord (Isaiah 53) should be taken merely for a collective name for the prophets, while already a definite developed announcement of a personal Messiah existed in the first part of Isaiah, so it would be a much more striking retrograde movement of the Messianic idea, if the second part of Zechariah were to be regarded as an earlier composition than the first. For here, in the second part, we have nearly a continuous biographical portraiture of the personal Messiah in typical images. In Zechariah 9:9, the Messiah comes to his city Jerusalem as an humble king of peace, riding upon a peaceful animal, the foal of an ass; in Zechariah 10:11, he goes before his returning people through the sea of sorrow, beating down the waves of the sea; in Zechariah 11:12 he is as the shepherd of his people valued at thirty pieces of silver, and the silver pieces were left in the potter’s chest (see Lange: Leben Jesu, 2.3, p. 1494); in Zechariah 12:10 is the deed done, because one has pierced him, and they begin to mourn for him as one mourns for his only son; in Zechariah 13:6-7, he complains: lo! I have been wounded in the house of my friends; the sword has awakened against the shepherd of God; the flock is scattered, and now he gathers his little ones; in Zechariah 14 he appears for judgment upon the Mount of Olives; it is light at the evening time; a new holy time begins, in which the bells upon the horses bear the same title as that upon the mitre of the High Priest: “Holiness to the Lord.” The critics propose to transfer this fully developed Christology back to the time of Uzziah, when the doctrine of a personal Messiah began to unfold itself. If some critics remove the section in question to a later date, or divide it into two parts and two periods, they do not change the case at all. They still deny the above—quoted fundamental principle of hermeneutics. If they turn us to the fact that the symbolism, which so clearly marks the first part, is less prominent in the second, we may remark the same receding of the symbolic text in Jeremiah and Hosea. But if Zechariah 10:6-7, speaks of the kingdom of Judah and Israel as still in existence, Zechariah 12:6 of Jerusalem as still standing, it must be observed, that for the symbolical, not for the purely historical, view of the prophet, these forms are permanent in the kingdom of God. We can only refer briefly to the fact, that, with respect to the original mysterious coloring, their obscurity and profoundness of statement, and other similar marks, the first and second parts of Zechariah have the same type and character. § 26 CRITICAL AIDS FOR ASCERTAINING AND CONFIRMING THE INTEGRITY OF THE BIBLICAL BOOKS Here belong the records which form the internal history of the text of the biblical books: the Hebrew text, the Samaritan Pentateuch and the translations, the Chaldee paraphrases, the Greek translations, the Vulgate, the Masoretic text, and the printed text. Compare Bleek: Einleitung, p. 746 ff. FOURTH CHAPTER Historical and Critical Exegetics in the narrower sense, or the human side of the Holy Scriptures: the Holy Scripture as Sacred Literature § 27 LITERATURE OF THE HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL SCIENCE OF INTRODUCTION See Bleek:Einleitung in das Alte Testament, p. 5; Keil: Einleitung in das Alte Testament, p. 6; Hagenbach: Encyclopedia, p. 139; Hartwig: Tabellen zur Einleitung in die kanonischen und apokryphischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, Berlin (1856, p. 1); [Havernick: Introduction, of which there is an English translation; Horne: Introduction; the recent edition. An Introduction by Prof. Stowe of Andover.—A. G.] § 28 ELEMENTS OF THE HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL SCIENCE OF INTRODUCTION The two essential elements of exegetics, both in reference to the Old Testament and the New, are general Introduction, or the history of the contents of the books in question, of the Old and New Testament Canon, and special Introduction, or the history of particular books. We now inquire in what order these parts should scientifically be placed. De Wette places general Introduction first, and this seems to be systematic. On the other hand it appears more scientific, according to the genesis of the Canon, to treat first of individual books and then of the whole. Hagenbach says the method of Reuss is preferable, but Reuss in his introduction to the New Testament furnishes a general substructure for the literature of individual books. This is undoubtedly the correct method which Bleek and Keil have followed. First we have the fundamental Introduction, which treats of the historical region, origin, character, limits, and means (language and writing) of sacred literature. Upon this, special Introduction proceeds in its work, as it treats of the history of particular books. Finally general Introduction embraces all the results attained, in the history of the formation of the Canon, in the history of the preservation of the Canon, in the history of the text, in the history of the spread of the Canon, of translations, in the history of the explanation of the Canon, or of the exposition or interpretation of the scriptures, and in the history of the energy and results of the Canon, for which still the greater part remains to be done. In regard to these different elements we must here limit ourselves to a few suggestions. As to the introduction which is fundamental, in that it underlies both special and general, the first question is as to the sphere of revelation, as to the ground and limits within which the sacred literature has grown up; then as to the homogeneous relation of the sacred word, as the word of the Spirit, to the scripture, as the language of the Spirit; then as to the specific character of the sacred writings as such, of their limitations, or of their opposition to apocryphal writings; and then finally of the means used in its formation, of the language itself, and of the art of writing, in their reciprocal influence and development. The history of the individual book must be introduced by a definition and distinction of the different modes of statement, the historical, poetic, didactic, and prophetic. For the critical part of this history, compare the paragraphs upon criticism above. For the organic part, see the following paragraphs. For the history of the Old Testament Canon, compare Bleek: Einleitung, p. 662. A. Dillmann: Ueber die Bildung der Sammlung heiliger Schriften Alten Testaments in den Jahrbüchern für Deutsche Theologie, 1858 (iii. Heft, p. 419) ff.; Keil, p. 538 ff.; Bunsen, p. 51. [Lardner’s Credibility, Jones, Wordsworth, Alexander, Gaussen, McClelland, on the Canon.—A. G.] On the history of the text, see Bleek, p. 717; Keil, p. 567. This history for a long time runs parallel with the periods of Hebrew literature. We may distinguish a Jewish period of the history of the text, in the behalf of Christians, and a Christian period, in behalf of the Jews. The first period may be divided again into the period in which the canonical text assumed its present form, the period of the formation of the Synagogue manuscripts (Babylonian writings), of the Targums, of the Talmud (division into Parasha and Haphtora), of the Masora (punctuation), of the Hebrew grammarians, and of the transition in the study of the Hebrew text to the Christians (division into chapters). The latter period falls into the history of the transmission of the manuscripts and of the printed editions. For the history of the translations, see Bleek, p. 750; Keil, p. 594; Bunsen, p. 72. For the history of the interpretation of the scripture, see paragraph hermeneutics; Keil, p. 710; Bunsen, p. 94; the full list Lange’s Matthew, Am. ed. p. 18. For the history of the results of the Old Testament or of the Bible in an ecclesiastical and practical point of view, see the references under § 1, and also the paragraphs on the theological and homiletical literature to the Old Testament. The articles Bible and Bible text in Herzog: Realencyklopàdie, by Danz and Winer—[which is in course of translation—A. G.]. § 29 THE DATES OF THE ORIGIN OF THE BIBLICAL BOOKS We must defer the discussion of these dates, to the works upon the particular books, but give here a table of the different dates accepted by De Wette, Keil, Bleek, and add a closing remark. De Wette Keil Bleek The Elohistic writing lying at the foundation of the Pentateuch dates after the death of Joshua and the expulsion of the Canaanites. The Jehovistic portions originate during the kings, down to Joram, but not to Hezekiah. Deuteronomy dates after the exile of the two tribes. Mosaic composition. Genesis. The Elohistic original writings, which reach down to the possession of Canaan. Revised with Jehovistic interpolations. The first originated probably in the time of Saul. The revision and enlargement before the division of the kingdom. The following books were a continuation of the original Elohistic writings. Their revision probably by the same writer who made the revision of Genesis. Leviticus as indeed Exodus (so far as the giving of the law is concerned) contains much that is originally Mosaic. Deuteronomy belongs to the Jehovistic revision: Distinction between Deuteronomy and the earlier books. The rearrangement belongs to a later time, but took place before the Babylonian exile. The book of Joshua also comes down from the time of Ahab to the time of the origin of Deuteronomy. Not later than the beginning of the reign of Saul. Probably earlier. The work of the Elohistic author. Revision in the time of David. Re-edition by the author of Deuteronomy. Separated from the Pentateuch at a later period. Last redaction. The book of Judges doubtful. The original essential portions before Deuteronomy. At the latest at the beginning of the reign of David. The books of Samuel later than Judges. The last form after the composition of Deuteronomy. Not before the time of Rehoboam or Abijam. After the division of the two kingdoms, but not long after. The books of Kings during the Babylonian exile. In the last half of the Babylonian captivity. In the last half of the exile. Perhaps by Baruch. The books of Chronicles low down in the Persian period. In Ezra’s time. Probably the same author, who made the latest revision of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. Book of Ruth a long time after David. Not before the last years of David’s reign. Centuries after the period of the Judges. Ezra and Nehemiah the work of a late collector. Ezra, Nehemiah. The last revision quite late. Esther. Very late date. Probably the times of the Ptolemys and Seleucidae. Not immediately after the subjection of the Persian kingdom. Esther. Probably immediately after the Persian period. Perhaps much later. Isaiah from 759–710, B. C. The second part of Isaiah during the early times of Cyrus. From the year of Uzziah’s death down to the 15th year of Hezekiah (758). The second part during the Babylonian exile. Jeremiah from the 13th year of Josiah to the subjection of the kingdom (588). The same. The Alexandrian recension preferable to the Masoretic text. Ezekiel. From five years before the destruction of Jerusalem until 16 years after. The same. After the taking of Jerusalem. Hosea presupposes the state of things under Jeroboam II. 790–725. Probably in the last time of Jeroboam II. Joel. Under Uzziah about the year 800. 867–838. During the reign of Uzziah. About 800 B. C. Amos. About 790. A few years after Joel. 810–783. Nearly contemporary with Joel. Obadiah. After the captivity of the Jews. After 588. 889–884. Immediately after the destruction of Jerusalem. Jonah. One of the later books. Uncertain whether before or after the exile. 824–783. Commonly referred to the time of Jeroboam II. The origin of the book falls at least in the Chaldaic period; perhaps in the beginning of the Persian. Micah. The first years of Hezekiah (758). 758–700. In the reign of Hezekiah. The declarations in the title not reliable. Nahum. After the 14th year of Hezekiah. 710–699. Before the year 600, or before the conquest of Nineveh. Habakkuk. A younger contemporary of Jeremiah. 650–627. Probably during the reign of Jehoiakim. Zephaniah. In the first years of Josiah (639). 640–625. The time of Josiah, 642–611. Haggai. At the time of Zerubbabel and Joshua (536). 519. The second year of Darius Hystaspes. Zechariah. Some months later than Haggai. The second half of Zechariah probably belongs to the time after the exile. From 519 on. The second half (Zechariah 9) probably earlier than Joel. The oldest part of written prophecy? Time of the king Uzziah!! Zechariah 10. Time of Ahaz. Zechariah 11:1-2, later than the foregoing and following. Zechariah 11:4; Zechariah 11:17, same as Zechariah 9, 10. With a full misconception of symbolical representations. Malachi. Probably in the time of Nehemiah (444). 433–424. The collection at the time of Nehemiah. A somewhat earlier origin. Daniel. At the time of Antiochus Epiphanes. At the time of the exile. Probably not long after the erection of the altar of burnt offering in the temple of Jerusalem for the worship of Jupiter. The Maccabeean age. The Psalms. Down to the exile and probably after. Not to the Maccabeean period. From David to the time after the exile, but not after Nehemiah. Against the reception of Maccabeean Psalms. Lamentations by Jeremiah (588). The same. The same. The Song. The time of Solomon. Solomon. The time of Solomon. Not by Solomon. Proverbs of Solomon. The time of Solomon. Time of Hezekiah. Last chapter probably three years later. From the time of Solomon to Hezekiah. The oldest collection. Many genuine proverbs of Solomon. Still the collection not by Solomon. Collection at the time of Hezekiah. The rest probably later. Ecclesiastes. Belongs to a late, unhappy, but in religious and literary culture, advanced, age. The times of Ezra and Nehemiah. It falls perhaps in the last time of the Persian dominion; but perhaps still later in the time of the Syrian dominion. The book of Job. The time of the decline of the kingdom of Judah, near to the Chaldaic period. The time of Solomon. Probably between the Assyrian and Babylonian captivity. The speech of Elihu a later interpolation. Concluding Remarks.—In the investigation of the dates of the biblical books, the history of the development of the biblical ideas has not been allowed sufficient weight. This is true emphatically of the idea of a personal Messiah. In its more definite form it enters with the prophets Isaiah and Micah, i. e., about the middle of the eighth century, B. C. It is perhaps credible that the idea of the Messiah should not appear in a later historical book. But it is incredible that the Messianic idea in a later book should recede again to the idea of a typical Messiah, which meets us in 2 Samuel 7. Indeed, since the idea of the typical Messiah first appears here, and a whole period lies between the appearance of the typical Messianic image, and the ideal Messianic image, the origin of the 2d book of Samuel must be this whole period earlier than that of Isaiah and Micah. Generally the prophets form the strongest bulwarks against the excesses of the critics. Hengstenberg, Delitzch, and others, show how frequently they use the historical books, especially the Pentateuch, including Deuteronomy, and how therefore they presuppose the existence of these books. But what long periods must have elapsed between the founding of the legal theocracy, between its culmination point under David and Solomon; and the prophetic doubts and despondency as to its eternal and legal appearance!—Let us take the idea of personal repentance as the measure. If, on good grounds, we view the 51st Psalm as the penitential Psalm of David, is there any similar development of the idea of personal repentance in Deuteronomy? So likewise there is no similar statement of a personal experience of grace. Criticism rightly uses the citations of the prophets, but it should use also with greater care the history of religious ideas. § 30 THE PERIODS WHICH THE OLD TESTAMENT BOOKS EMBRACE 1. Genesis. The time of primary history from the beginning of the human race, to the death of Jacob. 2. Exodus to Deuteronomy. The interval between Jacob and Moses. (See above, § 6, Chronology.) Then 40 years. (Numbers with a space of 37 years.) 3. Joshua. A period of about 17 years. 4. The books of Judges and Ruth. Various estimations. See the § 6. Chronology. Das Calwer Handbuch, 320 years. 5. The two books of Samuel. About 100 years. 6. The two books of Kings. About 380 years. 7. The two books of Chronicles. From the beginning of the world to the end of the Babylonian exile. 8. Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther. Omitting the period of the Babylonian captivity (70 years, or deducting the 14 years of the removal before the destruction of Jerusalem, 56 years), a period of about 130 years. § 31 THE ORGANIC STRUCTURE OF THE BIBLICAL BOOKS See the IV. Division. —————— THIRD SECTION THE THEANTHROPIC CHARACTER OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURE AS TO ITS FORM AND CONTENTS, OR THE BIBLICAL CHRISTOLOGICAL THEOLOGY, ESPECIALLY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT General Biblical Theology of the Old Testament § 32 CONTENTS It treats: 1. Of the nature of the revealed salvation, its fundamental forms, and its foundation; 2. Its development, and the steps in that development; 3. Of its aim and tendency. A. The revealed Salvation, its fundamental forms and its foundation § 33 THE REVELATION OF GOD IN THE WIDEST SENSE The revelation of God is both objective and subjective, i. e., the God of revelation, in revealing the knowledge of himself, stands over against the minds fitted to receive the revelation. God cannot reveal himself, without placing over against himself the glass upon which the rays of light fall, viz., angels and men. No created mind can know God, unless he reveal himself to him. But in the mutual action and influence between the spiritual and human world, the revelation of God progresses through different stadia. 1. The most general revelation of God; objective: The creation. Romans 1. 1. The most general revelation of God; subjective: The mind and conscience. Romans 2. 2. General revelation of God; objective: The history of the world. Romans 9-11. 2. General revelation of God; subjective: Lives of individuals. 3. Special revelation of God, or the revelation of salvation in its progress; objective: The old covenant. 3. Special revelation of God, or the revelation of salvation in its progress; subjective: The faith in the promise. 4. The most special revelation of God, or the revelation of salvation, in its introductory perfection: God in Christ reconciling the world. 4. The most special revelation of God in its introductory or first consummation; subjective: Justifying and saving faith. 5. The final, complete, introductory perfection of the revelation of God in Christ; objective: The great epiphany. God all in all. The consummation and transfiguration of the general revelation through the special. 5. The final, complete consummation of the subjective revelation of God in Christ. The intuition of God in Christ, and in the whole city of God. Through the sin of man the most general revelation of God is veiled and hidden (Isaiah 25:7). Even the more definite, moral revelation of God in history, and his own destiny, becomes to man a further obscuration of the Deity (Psalms 18:26). This blindness or darkness appears in the views of man concerning the enigma in history, and in man’s evil destiny. Through the objective side of the special revelation this darkening of the minds through unbelief often completes itself in hardness. The world is hell, viewed from the stand-point of hellish spirits. On the contrary, all the subjective and objective circles of revelation meet in ever increasing splendor, in the special sphere of revelation, in faith. But the special revelation, in its objective and subjective aspects, not only facilitates the knowledge of the general revelation, but carries on the general revelation to its consummation and glory. § 34 OPPOSITION AND DISTINCTION BETWEEN GENERAL AND SPECIAL REVELATION General revelation is the foundation on which the special rests; the special is the reproduction and realization of the general. Within the historical circle of the general revelation there arises, in consequence of the fall, the obscuration of the revelation of God, through nature and conscience, since the primeval religion of man was thus changed into a mere capacity for religion. But within the same circle are formed the sources of special revelation, since the primeval religion of the chosen becomes an active, practical exercise of their religious nature. General revelation as a natural revelation, looking to the past, is an unveiling of the foundations of the world and life; of the original divine institutions. Special revelation, looking to the future, is a revelation of salvation, and therefore always both an ideal revelation and an actual redemption. General revelation uses as its instruments symbolical signs and events, whose bloom and flower in the life of the spirit is the divine word. Special revelation makes use of the divine word, whose bloom and seal is the sacramental symbol and acts. There the symbol is prominent, here the word. § 35 THE SUBJECT OF REVELATION In the most general sense, the subject of revelation is the relation of God to man, as a foundation for religion, which is the relation of man to God. God reveals himself to man according to his living relations to him, according to his will in reference to him, hence in his purpose of salvation, the actual salvation, the promise of salvation; but also according to his claims upon man, in his law and in his judgment. He makes plain to man his peculiar destiny, his sinful nature, his guilt, since he plainly reveals his own will to man in order to prepare him to receive his salvation. This salvation is thus the central theme of revelation, and indeed as a fact, as a personal life, as an eternal inheritance, is destined to extent from the chosen until it becomes the common good of humanity. The subject of revelation is, therefore, redemption. § 36 THE INTERCHANGE BETWEEN REVELATION AND REDEMPTION As the eternal living spirit, God communicates himself, his life, when he communicates the living knowledge of himself. Man, as a spiritual being allied to God, cannot rightly know God without receiving into himself the divine life. But as man is sinful, he is blinded as to his intelligence, to the same extent that he is perverted and enslaved in his will. Hence there cannot be a revelation of salvation to him without redemption, nor redemption without revelation. It follows also that the introduction of this revelation must be very gradual. With the spiritual eye the heart must be purified, with the heart, the eye. Revelation is the ideal redemption, redemption the actual revelation. In this interchange between revelation and redemption, in general, revelation precedes redemption, but at the same time it must, through its preliminary redemption, prepare the way for every new stage in its development. And just as in the chosen spirits, the channels of the revelation of saving truth, revelation precedes redemption, so with the great mass of those who are the subjects of redemption, the redemption precedes, as a preparatory discipline, the illumination through revelation. § 37 THE OBJECTIVE FORM OF THE REVELATION OF SALVATION The objective form of this revelation is throughout the Theophany, as it rises form the form of the ideal, dynamic theophanies, to the grand real Theophany of God in Christ. It manifests itself in the elements of human faith, strengthened to open vision or sight. Its first form is the miraculous report, the divine voice, the word, whose dull echo—the Bath Kol—meets us only in the region of the Apocrypha. Its second more developed form is in the miraculous vision, in a narrower sense, angelic appearances, as an ideal dynamic Christophany, surrounded and even represented by wider encircling angelophanies and symbolical signs. Its third and perfect form is the incarnation of God in Christ. Its effect throughout is prophecy; the miracle of prophecy. But the Urim and Thummim is the theocratic, legal enlargement of prophecy; in which it was made permanent, and accessible to the people whenever it might be needed. § 38 THE SUBJECTIVE FORM OF REVELATION This is throughout the vision, whose basis or real aspect is ecstasy, the sudden transposition of the mind from the stand-point of faith to that of sight. The vision generally appears as a day-vision, during which the usual consciousness of sense is shadowed or suspended as in the night. But it appears in children, in common laborers, or men sunken in fatigue, as a dream of the night, in whom, however, the moral consciousness shines as clear as in the day. Its pre-condition is the higher intuition possessed by chosen religious minds, by the spirit of God made fruitful in some great historical moment, which indeed contains the seeds of the future, which the seer filled by the Theophany prophetically explains. There is no conceivable theophany without a corresponding disposition for the reception of visions; no vision without the energy and effect of a theophany. But the one form may prevail at one time, the other at another. In general, revelation advances from the Old to the New Testament, from the prevailing objective form, or theophany, to the prevailing subjective form, or the vision. Hence the succession in the names of the prophets: Roeh, Nabi, Chozeh. § 39 THE OBJECTIVE FORM OF REDEMPTION The objective form of redemption appears in a series of saving judgments, introduced through revelation by means of theophanies. Its fundamental form is the miracle. § 40 THE SUBJECTIVE FORM OF REDEMPTION It manifests itself in a heroic, divine act of faith, whose symbol is the sacrifice, whose result is conversion. § 41 THE HISTORICAL GRADUAL PROGRESS AND FORM OF REVELATION The realization in history of the revelation of salvation is gradual, fundamentally the same with the gradual growth of history itself. This gradual progress is conditioned: 1. Through the fundamental law of all human growth, into which the divine revelation as a revelation of salvation necessarily enters. In this point of view revelation is the grandest nature, the crown and glory of nature; for the regular unfolding of the Old Testament advent of Christ, of the personal life of Christ, and of that kingdom of heaven founded by him, reaches from the beginning to the end of the world, and transcends all the limits of the events of natural history. 2. This gradual growth is conditioned through the necessary interchange between a holy God and unholy men, in whom the grace of God first gradually forms according to the law of freedom for itself a point of union and a point of departure for its wider progress, i. e., it is conditioned through the constant interchange between revelation in a narrower sense and redemption, we may say even between prophecy and miracle, between the vision and the sacrifice. 3. Then it is conditioned through the slow process of the interchange between the chosen as the starting-point of revelation, and the popular life, or the interchange between the apocalypse and the manifestation (phanerosis). Generally, however, its history is embraced in two periods. 1. From the beginning of the introductory revelation to its completion, i. e., to the completion of the personal life of Christ, i. e., to the introductory or first end of the world. This is the special history of revelation in the narrower sense. 2. From the beginning of the final complete revelation, or the historically introduced revelation, i. e., from the beginning of the church to its completion, the second advent of Christ, i. e., the final end of the world. We now speak only of the periods of revelation in the narrower sense. 1. The period of that in one aspect symbolical, in the other mythical, primary religion: from Adam to Abraham, 2000 years B. C. The lighter aspect of this period is the symbolical religion, the knowledge of God in the light of nature and history, with sporadic lights of revelation through the word. 2. The period of the patriarchal religion of promise in its genealogical descent, introduced and established through the word of God and human faith: from Abraham to Moses, 1500 B. C. In the first period the symbol is prominent, the word subordinate; in this the word holds the first place, the symbol the second. In the first period faith was sporadic; in Abraham and his seed it becomes genealogical. 3. The period of the Mosaic legal religion: from Moses to Elijah, or to the decline of the glory of the Israelitish kingdom. The symbol preponderates above the word. The internal character of the religion of promise at the beginning, is now surrounded by the external forms of the law, for the purpose of bringing a whole people to share in the Abrahamic faith, and at the same time secure its wider development. Elijah turns himself to the past, as the last restorer of the law through the miraculous judgment by fire. 4. The period of prophecy, or in which the law began to be viewed in its internal character, in which the word preponderates, not the symbol: from the miracles of Elisha, marked by their design to save, pointing to the future, and from the Messianic prophecies of Isaiah (Hosea, Joel, Amos) to Malachi. 5. The period of national piety, or of the national realization of the prophetic faith, introduced in a historical manner, under the disappearance of canonical inspiration, but also under the appearance of the idea of martyrdom: from Malachi to the time of Christ. 6. The period of the concentration of the Messianic longing of Israel, or the seed-like formation of that state of mind which was fitted to receive the Messiah, whose very heart or central point is the Virgin, and around her the truly pious, especially the Baptist, enveloped, as in a shell, by Pharisaism, Sadduceeism, Essenism, Samaritanism, Alexandrianism, and Hellenism, which in a general sense may be viewed as springing from one another. The history previous to the New Testament. 7. The period of the life of Christ to its completion in his ascension, and to the great seal of its completion in the founding of the Christian church, through the out-pouring of the Holy Spirit. § 42 THE CONTRASTS BETWEEN THE ANNOUNCEMENT AND THE FULFILMENT OF SALVATION As nature found its goal in the first man, and the primeval time in Abraham and the Old Covenant, so the Old Covenant itself, as the preannouncement of the salvation in Christ, has found its goal in Christ. Christ is the end of the law, the preliminary goal or end of all things. But the introductory revelation of Christ in the time of the New Testament, must reach again its comprehensive final goal in the eternity of the New Testament, the eternal gospel, the second coming and epiphany of Christ with its eternal results. The Old Testament is the religion of the future. As to the word of promise, it finds its fulfillment in the word of the New Testament; as to its types, the shadowy images of good things to come, in the facts of the New Testament salvation. Hence it follows that the Old Covenant, as to its national, legal, external value, is abrogated through the New Covenant, but that the Old Testament, as the word of God, is exalted through the New Testament, to be a constituent part of the eternal revelation, as it furnishes the foundation, introduction, and illustration of the New Testament. As the gospel itself is a provisional law for the unbeliever, so the Old Testament law was a provisional gospel for the believer. § 43 THE FUNDAMENTAL FORMS OF THE PREFIGURATION OF SALVAITON These forms, in words, are the original traditions, the promise, the law, prophecy, the testimony of martyrs. These forms, in facts, are the allegories, symbols, types, i. e., the dawn, the representations, and the germ-like preparations for the New Covenant. Typology commences with the personal types (Adam, Melchizedec, Abraham, &c.), passes on to the historical types (the sacrifice of Isaac, the exodus from Egypt), finds its central point in the types of the law (the Mosaic cultus), and completes itself in the mental type, and types in disposition, the preannouncements in the inward state and feeling, of New Testament states (Psalms 22; Isaiah 7, &c.). The types and the word stand in relations to each other, similar to those between redemption and revelation. § 44 THE FULFILLING OF SALVATION The fulfilling of salvation is the completion of the theanthropic life of Christ, in its world-atoning, world-redeeming, and world-glorifying power and result. It may be divided into the introductory fulfilling and the final completion, i. e., into the time of the first and of the second advent of Christ. The first period embraces the history of the one peculiar completion of the life of Jesus, and its development in the four fundamental forms of the four gospels, and the varied doctrinal fundamental forms in the different apostolical types of doctrine, especially of James, Peter, Paul, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews and of John, to which, however, we must add, in their historical significance, the doctrinal types of the other apostles. The wider and final completion of the life of Christ extends through the different periods of the New Testament kingdom of heaven. (See Lange: Matthew, Am. ed., pages 3, 4, 5. B. Revelation of Salvation; its Development and its Goal § 45 THE DEVELOPMENT OF BIBLICAL THEOLOGY Biblical theology develops itself in essentially the same way with biblical religion. But it develops itself according to its nature after the following fundamental principles: 1. Biblical doctrine proceeds in its essential development, as in its chronological divisions, from a fundamental Christological principle: Man destined to the image of God, or to the perfection of his life in the revelation of the God-man. 2. The essential development of biblical doctrines, e. g., the doctrines of the name of God, of his attributes, of man, of sin, &c., advances in the same measure with the chronological development of biblical doctrine in different periods of time. 3. Every biblical doctrine in its germ-form existed already in the earliest period of revelation, e. g., the doctrine of immortality. 4. No biblical doctrine reaches its perfect form until the latest period of revelation, i. e., the New Testament fulfilment; and this fully developed form is reached in the apostolical period, e. g., the doctrine of the Trinity. 5. Every biblical doctrine in its course of development presents a marked, distinct continuity; although one doctrine may now rise into prominence, and then another. Hence a break and opposition between the Old and New Testament would be a monstrous supposition, if, e. g., the central part of the revelation of God in the Old Testament (the angel of the Lord), should be regarded as a created angel, and not as Christ himself in the preparatory stages of his incarnation, while the central figure in the New Testament revelation is the God-man. 6. Heterogeneous, not, strictly speaking, theocratic doctrines, may prepare the way for the development of revelation, and promote its progress. They have served this purpose from the beginning onwards (Chaldean, Syrian, Palestinian, Egyptian, Persian), but the grand forming principle of revelation would never allow any intrusion of foreign elements. It is only in the apocrypha that we find any traces of such an intrusion. 7. The development of biblical doctrine is ever in the direction of an onward progress, an unfolding, from the germ, of a growing spirituality, of a rejection of temporary forms, but never the form of a progress and growth through opposition. All the antitheses of sacred scripture, even that between the Old and New Testaments, are harmonious, not antagonistic or contradictory oppositions. 8. Within the period of any individual biblical doctrine, there is an opposition and a progressive movement, and between the most diverse periods there exists every-where the unity of the spirit, and hence an indissoluble connection. 9. The word of God, or the principle of revelation, rules and shapes the books of scripture, as a strong, active, moulding principle. But in the relations of that word to humanity, it is ever in its unfolding, breaking through the bonds of human error, and in its spirituality proceeds from one stage of revelation to another, to realize its divine fullness, in a more complete, transparent human perfection. 10. The word of God in its development never destroys human nature, while it dissolves the shadows within which it lies. It rather sets free, in the measure of its development, the original powers of the human nature. Hence these marks of originality, as they were already evident in the characters of the patriarchs, appear in their most striking forms in the lives of the prophets. It is an absurd and monstrous supposition, therefore, of which they are guilty who, denying the perfect originality of the four gospels, view the gospels of Matthew and Luke as copies from the original of Mark. 11. The doctrine of Jesus passes through well-defined periods of development. We can distinguish: 1. The explanation of the law in its inward all-prevailing significance. 2. The explanation of the Old Testament idea of the kingdom of heaven. 3. The explanation of the Old Testament types of circumcision, and the Passover. 4. The explanation of the Old Testament cultus. 5. The explanation of the entire Old Testament symbolism, and of the whole symbolism of creation. These chronological stages of the development of the doctrine of Christ are made the essential fundamental forms of the doctrine of Christ, in the doctrinal types of the apostles, James, Peter, Paul, the Epistle to the Hebrews, John. These types of doctrine supplement and complete each other, but they are as far removed as possible, in their harmonious agreement, from correcting each other. 12. In the book of Genesis biblical doctrine is a union of the word of God with the purest expression of human artlessness; in the Apocalypse, it is the union of the same word with a conscious, and, as to the Hebrew form, perfected, sacred art. Remark.—The fundamental laws of the development of the introductory revelation in the sacred scriptures, are also the fundamental laws controlling the introduction of this revelation into humanity, in the course of the development of the Christian Church. SPECIAL BIBLICAL THEOLOGY IN OUTLINE § 46 BIBLICAL DOCTRINE OF GOD, OR THEOLOGY IN THE NARROWER SENSE Biblical theology in the narrower sense, or the doctrine of God, may be divided into the doctrine of the knowledge of God founded upon his revelation of himself; of the name of God, which has its ground and reasons in his nature; of the demonstration of the being of God, resting upon the evidence of his universal existence, perfection, and power;[9] of the method of his providence, and of the attributes of God, or the fundamental form of his vital relations to the world and man, grounded ultimately in his peculiar personality, or the threefold personal distinction in his essence. Remarks.—1. The revelation of God is the ground upon which all our knowledge of God rests. 2. The name of God is not the nature of God, but designates objectively the entire revelation, and subjectively the whole of religion. 3. The nature of God is designated by the fundamental distinctions: The Lord, Love, Spirit. 4. The name of God, proceeding from the universal to the particular, passes through the names Elohim, Eloha, El Eljon, El Schadai, Elohim Zebaoth, to the name Father in heaven; and proceeding from the theocratic to the universal, it passes from the names Jehovah, Adonai, Jehovah Zebaoth, to the name God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 5. The Holy Scriptures recognize and distinguish definite Providence, which lay the foundation for the proofs of the divine existence. The general relation of God to the world may be divided into creation and providence. The creation may be viewed as the original creation and as the new formation of that which was originally created. Providence may be regarded as the supporting, ruling, co-working; and the co-working as judgment, redemption, and glorification. 6. With the unfolding of providence, the definition of the divine being according to his attributes comes clearly into view, in which, however, we must carefully distinguish between the essential and merely nominal marks or designations. In every period there prevails a peculiar definition, determined according to the divine attributes. In the primitive period God is designated as the exalted on (El Eljon). In the period of the promise as the Almighty (El Schadai). In that of the law as the Holy one. In the transition to the prophetic as the righteous, wise, good. In the period of the prophets as the most glorious, the Majesty. In the national period as the condescending; and in the New Testament as the gracious and merciful. 7. The distinctions in the divine nature or essence pass through different stages: God and his Angel; the Angel of the Lord (Genesis 16:7 ff.); of his countenance (Exodus 33:14 ff.); of the covenant (Malachi); God and his own Son; God and his threefold name. § 47 BIBLICAL DOCTRINE OF MAN, OR ANTHROPOLOGY The world as the basis and birthplace of man comes first into view here, and the world as Creation, as Nature, as the Cosmos, as the Aeon, or as the natural world defined through the spiritual. Then man in his normal state, in his nature (Biblical Anthropology and Psychology), in his destination, his paradisaic origin and condition, and his fitness for trial. Then further, man in his sin, his fall, his sinfulness, and his original sin; and corresponding to this, on the one hand, the guilt, judgment, death, condemnability, and on the other his inward discord and strife, his fitness as a subject of redemption, his outlook into the spiritual world, both as one of wretchedness and bliss, his coöperation with divine grace, or his preparation for the Advent of Christ. Remarks.—1. The creation is a. a single act, b. acts, works, c. a continuous energy or work, d. it marks the world as conditioned in the highest sense. 2. Nature is the relative independence of the world. Its first feature calling for notice is the principle of nature. Its second, the law of nature. Its third, the stages in the development of nature. Its fourth, the goal of nature: the sphere of freedom in which the grand nature of the kingdom of God is developed. 3. The Cosmos is the beautiful harmony of the world. It holds its celebration in its ideal perfection. The sacred reflection of the Cosmos is the Sabbath—the sacred human festivals. 4. In the Aeon the living spiritual principles of the world are represented. We must distinguish first the spiritual and human world, and then further the Ontology of the spiritual world from the experience of man in regard to it, as it first enters with the fall. 5. Biblical Anthropology is both dualistic and a system of trichotomy. As to its dualism man belongs in one aspect to the material, in the other to the spiritual world. According to the trichotomy man is, as to his divine quality or nature, spirit, as to his heavenly or superearthly form, soul, and as to his earthly organism, body. 6. In the destination of man to the image and likeness of God, we must maintain, that man, as the image of God, is destined to his self-realization in communion with God; and that particularly, as to his bodily nature, he is destined to a generic self-realization in the spread of humanity from one pair, and as to his spirituality, to his ideal self-realization in the Godman, and as to his soul, to his social self-realization in the kingdom of God. 7. With the paradisaic state of man comes into consideration the pure beginning of his life, which is both potential and actual, i. e., in one aspect innocence, in another righteousness; then his need of being tested, and finally his fitness for the test. 8. In the doctrine of sin we must distinguish the ideas of sin, of evil in the wide sense, and strict moral evil. Then the nature of sin, its genesis, and its development. 9. The consequences of sin may be viewed as natural and positive, or as death and as judgment in the following stages: Guilt and its imputation. This again branches itself a. into the continuation of sin: 1. Sinfulness, or the status corruptionis, and punishment; 2. original sin, and the curse of sin; 3. the hardening (stage of unbelief) and the rejection, fitness for condemnation; 4. The second death or condemnation. b. into the reaction against sin; the natural reaction, or the consciousness of guilt on the part of man, the positive reaction, or the preparative grace of God: 1. the desire after the lost Paradise and the Cherubim; 2. the desire after a new and higher salvation and the Protevangelium; 3. faith and the promise; 4. the stages of faith and the stages of the advent of Christ. § 48 BIBLICAL CHRISTOLOGY, AND SOTERIOLOGY Christology may naturally be divided into the typical and prophetic Old Testament messianic Christology, the evangelical Christology, or the history of the conscious being and revelation of Christ in his life, and the apostolic Christology, or the biblically completed doctrine of his person. Soteriology embraces the doctrine of the three Messianic offices of Christ, of the historical unity of the work of Christ, and of his eternal theanthropic work, in which he descends into the abyss of human judgments through his compassion, and raises believing humanity to the inheritance of his Sonship and blessedness. Remarks.—1. The Old Testament Christology flows from the fact, that from every judgment of God there springs a divine promise, and that thus the religion of the past is transformed into a religion of the future. This religion of the future, under the providence of God, ever moves onward to the future in acts and in consciousness: in the one through the miracles, or in the allegorical, symbolic, and typical history of salvation; in the other through prophecy in its different stages. As to the allegory, the forms of the higher nature are in opposition to the forms of the lower nature, and thus represent the opposition of the kingdom of God to the kingdom of darkness. In the symbolical acts and works, the human civilization becomes the image of the divine cultus. In the region of the types, i. e., of the germlike prefiguration of that which is to be completed in the future, we must distinguish the typology of the Covenant (Covenant or Testament), the typology of the kingdom, and the typology of the Messiah. Messianic prophecy proceeds from the prophecy of the human conflict, the semitic reverence for God, the blessing upon Abraham, the warlike and peaceful sceptre of Judah, the typical Messiah in the genealogy of David, to the prophecy of the ideal personal Messiah; and again from the one prevailing form of the Messiah, it advances to the distinction of the lowly and suffering, and the exalted glorious Messiah. But with the idea of a suffering Christ there appears the idea of Antichrist and his typical signs or marks. With the prophecy of the Messiah there is unfolded also a prophecy of the redemption and transfiguration of the world through a series of saving judgments proceeding from those which are introductory, to those which are universal and complete. 2. In the Evangelical Christology, or the Christology of the life of Christ, we may view the Christology of the stages of his personal life (his miraculous birth, baptism, transfiguration, resurrection, ascension), and of his self-consciousness in his teachings, of his Christological acts, his miracles, and his redeeming work. 3. In the biblical Soteriology we must distinguish the unity of the work of Christ, from its division into his three offices. The one entire work of Christ has been profoundly described by Luther and others as an exchange of relations. Christ has taken our sin, i. e., the consciousness of condemnation, upon himself, in order that he might make us sharers in his righteousness; i. e., in his great compassion he has entered into our consciousness of guilt, as a consciousness of judgment, that he might take us into the consciousness of his righteousness. As to the offices, we must distinguish his prophetic redemption or world-atonement, his priestly expiation, and his kingly redemption in a narrower sense. (See Lange: Positiv Dogmatik, p. 793 ff.) § 49 BIBLICAL PNEUMATOLOGY AND THEOCRATOLOGY, OR THE DOCTRINE OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD The doctrine of the Spirit of God, and his operations, treats of the Old Testament typical kingdom of God, based upon his universal and absolute kingdom over the world, in its friendly and hostile relations to the kingdoms of the world (Daniel 2; Daniel 7); of the New Testament kingdom of heaven established by Christ, in its opposition to the kingdom of Satan, and of the final appearance of the perfected kingdom of God, in the glorified world, and in its complete triumph over the kingdom of darkness. The doctrine of the Old Testament kingdom of God treats of the historical significance and importance of the opposition between Judaism and Heathenism. The doctrine of the New Testament kingdom of God branches into the doctrine of the particular definite method of salvation, the definite founding and saving institutions of the Church, and of the application and spread of this completed salvation to the utmost boundaries of the world. Its stages are the following: 1. a. individual death; b. intermediate state; c. the individual progressive resurrection; 2. a. social death, or the fall of Babel; b. Anti-Christendom; c. the appearance of Christ and the millennial kingdom; 3. a. death of the old world. End of the world; b. the final completed resurrection, and the separation in the judgment; c. the eternal energy and result of the city of God, and its glory to the honor of God. (Revelation 22.) The doctrine of the completed kingdom of God rests upon the biblical disclosure of the Aeon of the blessed, and the Aeon of the condemned, over which rules, imparting to them unity, the absolute fulfilment of the divine purposes, of the end of the world, and the glory of God. Remarks.—1. Pneumatology is more widely developed through the doctrine of the Spirit, for which theology has as yet done comparatively little (see Lange: Theol. Dogmatik, p. 926), [see also Owen: Work on the Spirit.—A. G.]. 2. The doctrines of the absolute dominion of God, of the kingdom of the grace of God, and the kingdom of glory, must be more accurately distinguished than has been done hitherto. 3. The interchange between the progress of the kingdom of God and the kingdom of darkness, how they serve to facilitate each other’s progress, how in critical moments they reject and exclude each other, how the apparent subjection of the first is always the real subjection of the last, how the victory of the kingdom of God, through the cross of Christ, is as a preliminary victory decided, how the two kingdoms move on side by side to their widest completion, and how the last apparent triumph of the kingdom of darkness, in the revelation of Antichrist, introduces his final judgment under the triumph of the kingdom of God; all this needs a more adequate estimation, explanation, and statement. 4. The significance of the historical opposition between Judaism and Heathenism, Hebraism and Hellenism, requires a clearer and more detailed statement. Above the hostile opposition between Shem and Ham, there may be seen also the friendly opposition between Shem and Japhet, tending to supplement each other. 5. For the organism of the individual method of salvation, which generally lies still in great confusion (see Lange: Positiv Dogmatik, p. 950). [This is less true perhaps in England and in this country, than in Germany.—A. G.] For the Christological structure of the church in its various stages—the same, p. 1107, and finally for its organism during its eschatological stages, p. 1225. Footnotes: [1]“The abnegation of reason is not the evidence of faith, but the confession of despair. Reason and reverence are natural allies, though untoward circumstances may sometimes interpose and divorce them.”—J. B. Lightfoot, D. D., St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians , 2 d ed., London and Cambridge, 1866. Preface, p. xi. [2]Bishop Colenso represents this antithesis in one theological life; first serving the letter with an orthodox purpose, and then using it for mere critical ends. [3]For a general survey of the development of the sciences of Old Testament Introduction, see Bleek, Einleitung, p. 5 ff. [4]Comp. Chappiu’s De Vancient Testa. Lausanne, 1838, p. 79. Lange’s opening address at Zurich treats of the same distinction. [5]We reserve the subject of Jealousy, and of the sexual offences, as indeed of the assumed difficulties in the Old Testament generally, for a separate Excursus. [6][The internal character of any book must of course have great weight in deciding the question whether it is to be received as the word of God or not; but having so received it, the mere improbability to us of the events it narrates will not justify us in holding that to be an allegory which claims to be a history. This is certainly dangerous ground on which to stand. For if the mere fact that there is so much that is improbable here, authorizes us to assume that the book is an allegorical representation of an important and precious truth, it will be easy to reduce large portions of the Biblical History to allegorical representations. Nor is the supposition in any sense necessary here, since the narrative, viewed as literal history, teaches the same truth with equal or greater force.—A. G.] [7][In regard to the authorship of these books there is a wide difference. The name of Solomon appears in the title to the Song, it does not in that to the Preacher. There he comes into view as Koheleth, a term which, as Hengstenberg argues with great force, shows that he is viewed only in his representative character, as the highest Old Testament representative of divine wisdom, in distinction from mere worldly wisdom. The real author of the book puts these words into his month, as one who was well known to hold this position. Those to whom the book came would understand this at once. There is more here than mere “poetical license.” Hengstenberg thinks that the book does not profess to be from Solomon. But the Song does. And the title here is confirmed, 1. By the general correctness of the titles; 2. By the historical references in the Song which point to the time of Solomon; 3. By the entire thought of the poem itself. Even Lange’s view as to its fundamental thought does not justify the inferences which he drawn from it. For there is nothing unnatural in the assumption that Solomon himself should have felt “the theocratic indignation” against his own errors and sins, or that the Holy Spirit should have used his experiences in giving form and expression to the truths here taught.—A. G.] [8][Compare, however, upon this point Hengstenberg: Authentic des Daniel.—A. G.] [9][This is a very inadequate rendering of the expressive terms which Dr. Lange uses: Daseins, Soseins, Hierseins, in which he includes the whole field from which we draw the arguments for the being of God: not merely his existence, but his existence such as he is, the concrete idea of God given us in the Bible.—A. G.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 4: 01.3. THEOLOGICAL & HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO OT - PART 2 ======================================================================== SECOND DIVISION PRACTICAL EXPLANATION, AND HOMILETICAL USE OF THE OLD TESTAMENT In the apostolic communities, and through the entire apostolic age, the reading of the Old Testament was confessedly an essential foundation for the public solemn edification of Christians. Hence we find, in the New Testament writings, the first fundamental outlines of the practical explanation of the Old Testament. We may go still further back, and say, that just as the New Testament gives a doctrinal and practical explanation of the Old, so the later writings in the Old Testament serve to explain the earlier and more fundamental portions. But as Christ enters, or is introduced, in the New Testament, as the absolute interpreter (Matthew 5:17), so his Apostles carry on his work as interpreters of the Old Testament. We call special attention, in this view, to the Gospels by Matthew and John, the Acts, the Epistle to the Galatians and that to the Hebrews. The apostolic Fathers also have proved in a large measure interpreters of the Old Testament. Besides some allegorical fancies in the epistle of Barnabas, we recognize some very valuable and profound suggestions. Clement of Rome, in his first letter to the Corinthians, after he has exhorted the Corinthians to repentance, quotes testimonies and examples from the Old Testament, from ch. 8–13 and passing over other citations, even in reference to the life of Christ, ch. 17–19 and still further on, he constantly mingles quotations from the Old Testament with those from the New. This is true also in some measure of the second epistle bearing the same name. The Ignatian epistles are in this respect remarkably reserved, perhaps out of regard to the Judaizers. In Polycarp also the citations from the New Testament are very prominent. The anonymous letter to Diognetus represents still more strikingly in this respect, an anti-judaistic stand-point, although there is no necessity for imputing to its author a Gnostic antagonism to the Old Testament. In the Pastor of Hermas there are not wanting Old Testament allusions, still he is more closely related to the Old Testament, in his imitation of the prophetic forms, and in his legal view, than in that living appropriation of it which characterizes the New Testament. The book of Hermas points to the great Christian apocryphal literature, in which the Jewish Apocrypha perpetuates itself, and in which indeed the most diverse imitations of the Old Testament writings are continued. (The Sybellines, the 4th book of Ezra, the book of Enoch, and others.) Among the Apologists, Justin Martyr, about the middle of the second century, appears as a Christian philosopher who was familiar with the Old Testament. This is clear from his dialogue with Trypho. But also in his Cohortatio ad Graecos he, as also others of the Fathers, not recognizing the better peculiarities of heathenism, traces back the monotheism and wisdom of Plato to Moses and the prophets. In his apologies, which were directed to heathens, he makes use of Old Testament prophecies. Tatian, notwithstanding his Gnosticism, refers to the Old Testament. Theophilus of Antioch (ad Autolycum) contrasts the Old Testament account of the creation, with that of Hesiod (ii. 13), in which, although an Antiochian, and before that school, he explains the historical facts symbolically, while retaining at the same time the historical sense. He continues the history of Genesis, and of the Mosaic system, with constant reference to heathenism. Generally speaking, his representation moves upon the line of the sacred scriptures from the Old to the New Testament. Besides the general free use of the Old Testament in the Fathers, which even becomes excessive, in so far as the Old Testament conception of the cultus, its hierarchical and sacrificial ideas, and certain legal precepts, have been adopted in a more or less external way into the New Testament doctrine, order of worship, and constitution; there are special portions made prominent, in which the Old Testament continues its life in the New Testament theology, and in the cultus of the church. The first of these is the manifold exposition and explanation of the work of creation, especially of the six days’ work, by which we oppose both the heathen dualistic view of the world and Polytheism. The second is the Christian development of the doctrine of the kingdom of God, especially of the Messianic prophecies. The third is the Christian, human, pastoral, and catechetical development of the decalogue. The fourth is the transmission of the Old Testament Psalmody in the New Testament Hymnology and Cultus of the Church. To these we must add that allegorical method of exposition, which culminated in the Alexandrian school, by means of which the Christian consciousness appropriates to itself and reproduces in a Christian way the whole contents of the Old Testament. Finally the culture of the biblical method and style of preaching, under the influence of the Old Testament, in connection with the Greek and Roman rhetoric. As to the first point, Clemens of Alexandria had in view a commentary upon Genesis. There was a work of Tertullian, now lost, upon Paradise. About the year 196 Cadidus wrote upon the hexæmeron. Besides a work upon Genesis, Hippolytus published several works upon the Old Testament scriptures. Origen prepared a commentary upon Genesis, and also a series of mystical homilies upon the same book, as also upon a large number of other biblical books. Cyprian published a song upon Genesis. Victorinus, about 290, wrote a Tractatus de Fabrica mundi. Methodius, about the same time, Commentarii in Genesin. Hieracus (the heretic), in 302, Lucubrationes in Hexæmeron. Eustathius, 325, Commentarius in Hexœmeron. James of Edessa, about the same time, Hexœmeron ad Constantinum. Basil the Great, about 370, nine Homilies upon the six days. His brother Gregory of Nyssa also wrote upon the six days’ work. About 374, Ambrose wrote six books upon the same theme. Jerome, towards the end of the 4th century, prepared questions upon Genesis. Chrysostom wrote 67 Homilies upon Genesis. Augustine wrote upon Genesis in many of his works. These works show clearly how important Genesis, the doctrine of the creation, the statement of the six days’ work, appeared to the Fathers, in their controversies with heathenism. That the explanation of the ten commandments was in like manner, next to the gradually perfected apostles’ creed, one of the oldest branches of Christian catechetical instruction, needs scarcely any proof. The idea of one prevailing view of the Old and New Testament kingdom of God appears already in the apology of Theophilus of Antioch. The Chronography of Julius Africanus, the Chronicon of Eusebius of Cesarea, as well as his arrangement and demonstration of the gospel, lay a wider foundation for the same idea. The great work of Augustine, De Civitate Dei, belongs here, as also the sacred history by Sulpitius Severus, and generally the prevailing character of the historical statements or chronicles of the West, running down through the middle ages, since they all go back to the Old Testament and even to Adam. As to the importance of the Old Testament Psalter, and its history in the Christian Church, compare Otto Straus: The Psalter as a Song and Prayer Book. A historical tractate. Berlin, 1859. Through the allegorical explanation of the scripture in the Alexandrian School, and still more in the middle ages, the entire Old Testament assumed a New Testament form and meaning, as to the inner Christian life and spiritual experience, while at the same time, as to the organization of the church and the cultus, the New Testament became simply a new publication of the old. On the Mediæval exposition of the scriptures, compare The Allegorical Explanation of the Bible, especially in Preaching, by Von Mogelin (1844). Elster: The Exegetical Theology of the Middle Ages (1855). Tholuck: The Old Testament in the New, 4th edition (1864). J. G. Rosenmüller: History of Interpretation in the Christian Church (1795–1814). Meyer: Geschichte der Schrifterklärung, 5 vol. 1802–1809. Schuler: Geschichte der Veränderung des Geschmackes in Predigen, 1792. For the critical and theological exposition of the Old Testament generally, consult M. Baumgarten: Commentary upon the Old Testament, the General Introduction to the Old Testament. [See also upon the use of the Old Testament in the New. Fairbairn: Typology, 2d edition, and Hermeneutical Manual. Alexander, W. L.: Connection and Harmony of the Old and New Testament. London (1853). Prideaux: Connection, new ed. London (1856).—A. G.] The mediæval mystics especially gave the widest limits to the letter of the Old Testament, and brought out into the light the multiplicity of the ideas lying at its root, as they rightly conjectured, through the theory of the fourfold sense of scripture. Littera gesta docet, quid credas allegoria, Moralis quid agas, quo tendas anagogia. The was a favorite book for spiritual exposition, even in the time of the Fathers. It was still more so during the middle ages, and has retained its position in the field of homiletical and ascetic literature to this day. The catalogue of the literature of this book alone would make a small volume. There has lately been republished: The words of St. Bernard upon the Song; German, by Fernbacher, 1862. The exposition of the Bible was generally, during the middle ages, to a great extent practical, or designed for edification, and this indeed for the most part in a mystical way. This was true even with the expositions of the scholastics. This is in accordance with the practical direction of the middle ages, with the ignorance of the original languages, with the prevalence of dogmatics and church institutions and laws, and with that throughout, repressed respect for the Holy Scriptures. Gregory the Great, in this point of view, opens the middle ages, when, after the canon of Origen as to the threefold sense of scripture, he composed his Moralia in Jobum, after having provided in a collection of excerpts (Procopius of Gaza about 520; Primasius of Adrymettum about 550; Aurelius Cassiodorus after 562), the so-called Catenæ for a necessary aid to the learned exposition of the scripture. Isidorus of Hispalis, the venerable Bede, and others, follow later. A certain peculiarity attaches itself to the British method of exposition, as it was founded by the Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury; to the German exposition as it, e. g., is represented in the Saxon Evangelical poetry of Heliand; and later to the French and German mystics, who take their origin from the mystical writings of the Pseudo-Dionysius. The clear reference of the Holy Scriptures to the inner life, especially as a contemplative life, may be regarded as the great acquisition of the middle ages. This practical exposition of the Scriptures, it is true, as practised by Claudius of Turin, Alcuin, Paul Warnefried, Rabanus Maurus, Christian Druthmar, Peter Lombard, Cardinal Hugo, Abelard, John of Salisbury, Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, but especially by the mystics Bernard of Clairveaux and his followers, was used for the advantage of priestly and monkish classes. Meanwhile the reformation of the exposition of the Scriptures was prepared during the middle ages. It must first of all be brought back to the original languages and the grammatical sense. The learned Jews of the middle ages, with their linguistic studies and expositions of the Old Testament, provided for this return (Aben Esra, Jarchi, Kimchi, and others). As to the New Testament, whose learned exposition in the spirit of Chrysostom, Œcumenius, Theophylact, and Euthymius Zigabenus, had prosecuted, that human learning, transplanted from Greece to the West, and awakened and cultivated in the West itself, served the same purpose which the labors of the Jews did for the Old Testament. Thus there was prepared, since Nicholas of Lyra (who died about 1340), Wicliffe, Huss, with Laurentius Valla, Reuchlin, Erasmus, a scientific exposition of the Scriptures, which began at once by its critical process to free itself from mediæval traditions. But the exposition of the Scriptures must at the same time be made popular, and, in the form of Bible readings, sermons, catechisms, household instructions and training, be introduced among the people. Besides a few great popular preachers (Berthold, the Franciscan, 1272, John Tauler, 1361, Vincentius Ferreri, 1419, Leonard, of Utino, 1470, and others), the pious sects of the middle ages, especially the Waldenses, and the well-known forerunners of the Reformation, labored to secure this result. The last-mentioned class prepared that introductory, profound, and scientific exposition of Scripture in which the Reformation arose, and through which alone it could successfully assert that full, new unveiling and revelation of the Holy Scripture as it lived in the heart, the word of justification by faith, and thus established its sole authority in matters of faith. With the great reformers, that introductory exposition of the Bible, purified through its critical processes, brought back to the grammatical and historical sense, while at the same time mystical and inward, on one side learned, on the other popular, first entered into the popular life, however the fetters of ecclesiastical exegetical tradition may have restrained the freedom of individuals. This exposition in its scientific aspect led to a new construction of the entire theology, in its ecclesiastical aspect to the laying anew all the foundations of church institutions and order, in its popular aspect to the production of countless sermons and hymns. Flaccus Illyricus reduced these acquisitions to their rules in the first protestant Hermeneutics in his Clavis Scripturæ Sacræ, 1567. From this time onward the history of the exposition of the Scriptures is so comprehensive that we can only describe it after its periods. To the period of the Reformation, in which the prevailing principle was the Analogia fidei, and during which the Lutheran Exegesis struck into a synthetical and critical direction, and the Reformed into an analytical and practical, succeeded at first the period of interpretation according to the Orthodox symbols, and in which the different confessions shaped and determined the exegesis. This period extends through the ultra-critical exegesis of the Unitarians, and partially also that of the Arminians, and through the allegorical exposition both of the Catholic and of the Protestant mystics (Madame Guion, Antoinette Bourignon, Jacob Boehme), which here again, as in the middle ages, forms the side-stream to the new scholastic main current. This last tendency passed over partially into the subjectively practical pietistic school, whose principle of interpretation was the word of God, the word of personal salvation, as the seed of personal regeneration. The Lutheran interpretation, as it was pre-eminently dogmatic, was ever seeking to find the New Testament dogmas in the Old Testament, i. e., it distinguished less accurately the times. The Reformed, with a more correct estimate of the historical, distinguished definitely times and economies, and found, therefore, in the Old Testament the typical prefigurations of the New, but fell also, in the Cocceian school, into a typology which knew no rules, or into allegorical fancies and excesses. This distinction was reversed in their views of the law. Luther made the opposition between Moses and Christ too great, while Calvin suffered himself to be influenced by the Mosaic system even in questions of ecclesiastical law. For the orthodox the Bible was a mine of dicta probantia, for the mystics it was a record of a visionary, inspired, mysterious, all-pervading view of the world. Pietism strove to unite these in its method of interpretation. That Rationalism, in its period, has both corrupted and promoted criticism, has made exegesis more shallow and superficial, while it has made it more pure and simple, has both falsified and uprooted scripture doctrine in its reference to life, as it has developed it practically and morally, is now confessed, i. e., it is confessed that it forms in one total representation a revolution of unbelief, and a reform of the believing consciousness. But if it advances from that grammatical historical principle, illy understood (since the biblical letter was not seen in its peculiar depth, the biblical facts or persons in their complete originality), to the last destructive results of the pseudo-criticism, so also it has in its interchange with supernaturalism from the same principle, correctly understood, wrought a more profound exposition of the scripture, according to the fundamental principle of scripture. It has introduced the Christological explanation of the scripture, which forms the livings centre of the present exposition of the Bible. However, it has not interrupted the flow of biblical investigation and exposition, but urged it on more rapidly, since it was animated by the idea, that the doctrine of the Bible would prove the most efficient means of overthrowing the churchly dogmatics. A striking testimony for the extraordinary activity in the interpretation of the Scriptures, from the Reformation until our own time, is found in the commentaries, the collections of sermons, concordances, systems of biblical theology, and especially the Bibleworks, which are now appearing so rapidly. Catalogues of collected Bibleworks, exegetical and homiletical, may be seen in Walch: Bibliotheca theol. vol. iv. p. 181. Winer: Handbuch der theologischen Literatur, i. p. 186. The Supplement, p. 77. Danz, p. 134. In Starke: Biblework we find named as his predecessors the Bibleworks (Lutheran) of Bünemann, Cramer, Dietrich Veit, Nicolaus Hasius, Joachim Lange, Horch (Mystical Bible, Marburgh), Olearius, the two Osianders, Zeltner (Reformed), Castellio, Tremellius, Piscator, Tossanus (Catholic), Walafried Strabo, Lyra, Paulus a Sancta Maria. Further, the Ernestine Bible, the Würtemburg Summarien, Die Tübingische Bibel, under the direction of Matthew Pfaff (Lutheran).—Reformed works: Die Berleburgische Bibel, the English, Belgic, Genevan (with notes by Maresius) Bibles. Das Deutsche oder Herborn’sche Bibelwerk.—Besides these, Hall: Practical Applications, Freibergische Parallel-bibel, Ikenii thesaurus. Also a series of special Bibleworks upon the New Testament. Hedinger, Majus, Müller, Quesnel, Zeisius. Of modern Bibleworks we name: Von Hetzel (10 Theile, 1780–1791), with 2 Theile über die Apokryphen (von Fuhrmann in seinem Handbuch der theolog. Literatur ungünstig beurtheilt). Altenburger Bibel Commentar für Prediger, 1799 (von einem Verein von Predigern). Those of Oertel, Fischer, and Wohlfahrt. Dinter and Brandt. Also the list in Lange: Biblework, Matthew, Am. ed. p. 19. For the great number of works, preparatory to the Holy Scriptures, Lexicons, Concordances, and similar aids, see Danz and Winer. Lange: Matthew, Am. ed. pp. 18, 19. English Bibleworks: Nelson: Antideistic Bible. Burnet: New Testament. Henry: Exposition [in England, the general commentaries, by Poole, Gill, the two Clarkes, Samuel and Adam, Patrick Lowth, and Whitly, Scott, Burder, and others of less note. In this country the literature is rich in special commentaries, while there are no general commentaries, unless we include in the term popular works, like that published by the American Tract Society.—A. G.] The practical exposition of the Scriptures was limited, in the Lutheran church by the order in which they were read in the church service, in the Reformed by its stronger dogmatic tradition. But in the end the more profound view of the Analogia fidei there, and of the Analogia scripturae here, led to the great reform in biblical criticism, exposition, theology, preaching, and catechetical instruction, which places us to-day on the very threshold of a new epoch. (See Remarks, § 1.) Recently the study of the Old Testament centres again upon Genesis, the Mosaic records of the creation, the six days; since the conflict with modern unbelief, for the defence of these principles of the kingdom of God, which are here laid down in the beginning of the Scriptures, must be met and settled here. For the literature: see Ludwig: Ueber die praktische Auslegung der heiligen Schrift, Frankfurt, 1859. Dickinson: Physica vetus et vera, sive tractatus de naturali veritate Hexaemeri mosaici, London, 1702. [The works of Hitchcock, Hugh Miller, Dana, J. Pye Smith. The Bridgewater treatises, Lord, the articles in the Bibliotheca sacra, urging the view of Prof. Guyot. The Commentary on Genesis, by Jacobus. Wiseman: Lectures. Tayler Lewis: Six Days of Creation, and The Bible and Science. Murphy: Bible mid Geology. Pattison: The Earth and the Word. Kurtz: Bible and Astronomy. Sumner: The Records of the Creation. Birks: On the Creation. Hancock: On the Deluge. The controversy, started by Colenso, has already been fruitful in its literary results. See Mahan: the spiritual point of view. Green: The Pentateuch vindicated (against Colenso).—A. G.] THIRD DIVISION THEOLOGICAL AND HOMILETICAL LITERATURE UPON THE OLD TESTAMENT See Lange: Matthew, Am. ed. pp. 17, 18. For the older literature consult the catalogue in Starke: Biblework, the appendix to the fifth part, entitled General register, &c., pp. 1–46. Also Heidegger: Enchiridion, pp. 15, 16. Walch: Bibliotheca theolog. vol. iv. p. 205. Fuhrmann: Handbuch der theolog. Literatur, ii. p. 3. Danz: Wörterbuch, p. 938, Supplement, p. 10. Winer: i. p. 67, Supplement, p. 31. Hagenbach: Encyclopädie, p. 176, to which is added the literature of biblical Philology, p. 122. Compare also a sketch of a history of Old Testament exegesis in Bleek: Einleitung, p. 129. Kurtz: History of the Old Testament, p. 62. De Wette: Einleitung, p. 159. [See also the comparatively full lists of the older literature, given in Horne: Introduction, and the partial lists in Kitto: Cyclopedia, and Smith: Bible Dictionary, Davidson: Hermeneutics, the historical part.—A. G.] 1. Introduction.—De Wette, Haevernick, Bleek, Staehelin (1862).—Special critical works. Staehelin: Kritische Untersuchungen über den Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings (1843). Koenig: Alttestamentliche Studien, 1. Heft: Authentic des Buches Josua (1836); 2. Heft: Das Deuteronomium und der Prophet Jeremias (1839). Also G. A. Hauff, Riehm, Caspari: Contributions to the introduction to Isaiah. Hengstenberg: Beiträge. Geiger (Jew): Urschrift und Uebersetzungen der Bibel, &c. (1857). [Davidson: Introduction. McDonald: Introduction to the Pentateuch. The Introduction to Baumgarten: Commentary—in the 1st vol. Hamilton: The friend of Moses.—A. G.] 2. General examination of the Old Testament.—Chappuis, Lausanne (1838). Kohlbruegge, Elberfeld (1853). Boehner, Zürich (1859). Friedrich, Gumpach, Westermeyer, Schaffhausen (1860). 3. More general Commentaries.—Kurzgefasstes exegetisches Handbuch, by Hitzig, Hirzel, Olshausen, Thenius, Knobel, Bertheau, &c. (Leipzig, 1841, ff., embraces also the Apocrypha). The Commentary now in progress by Keil and Delitzsch. For special commentaries: see Lange: Matthew, Am. ed. p. 19. [Besides those referred to, there may be consulted: On the Old Testament, on Genesis, and the Pentateuch: Bonar, Cummings, Graves, Hamilton, Jacobus, Jamieson, Murphy, Wordsworth.—Also Abbott: On Jonah. Birdges: On Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. Rev. J. Burroughs: On Hosea. Burrows: On the Song. Caryl: On Job. Davidson: On Esther. Drake: On Jonah and Hosea. Greenhill and Guthrie: On Ezekiel. Horsley: On the Psalms. Moore: On the Prophets of the Restoration. Tregelles: On Daniel. Young: On Ecclesiastes.—A. G.] 4. Bibleworks.—Burmann: The five books of Moses down to Esther (1733). Michaelis: Translation of the Old and New Testament, with explanations. Berger and Augusti: Praktische Einleit. in’s Alte Testament (1799). Bleckert: Das Gesetz und die Verheissung (1852). Phillipson: Die heilige Schrift in deutscher Uebersetzung, &c. 3d ed. (1862). Thesaurus biblicus, 1 Dan., Suesskind (1856). General Bibleworks, Lange: Matthew, Am. ed. p. 19. 5. Works embracing the principal points in question.—a. The kingdom of God; Jewish History: Jost (1859). Dessauer (1852). Da Costa (1855). Chr. Hofmann. Kurtz: Sacred History of the Old Covenant. Hofmann: Weissagung und Erfüllung. Buehring (1862). [Edwards: History of Redemption. Alexander: History of the Israelitish Nation. Blakie: Bible History. Coe: Sacred History and Biography, London, 1850. Fleetwood: History of the Bible: Kitto, Johnston: Israel in the World. G. Smith: Hebrew People. Stanley: History of the Jewish Church.—A. G.] 6. The History of the kingdom of God.—Whately: Kingdom of Christ. Histories of the kingdom of God, by Hess, Zahn, Braem, and others. Structure of General History, by Weitbrecht, Ehrenfeuchter, Eyth, and others. Apel: Die Epochen der Geschichte der Menschheit. (The Gospel of the Kingdom, Leipzig.) Ehrlich: Leitfaden für Vorlesungen über die Offenbarung Gottes (1860). Lisco (1830). Kalkar (1838). Kircher (1845). Apel (1860). Caird and Lutz (1858). Theurer (1862).—b. Christology. Naegelsbach: Der Gottmensch, the fundamental idea of Revelation in its unity and historical development (1853). Trips: Die Theophanien in the historical books of the Old Testament (1858). Bade: Christologie des Alten Testaments. Scholz: Handbuch der Theologie des Alten Bundes (1861). Theologiæ dogmaticæ Judæorum brevis Expositio, by Roeth. Bertholdt: Christologia Judæorum. Ewald, Hengstenberg, Hofmann, Coquerel, Lutz, Steudel, Oehler, Haevernick. Mayer: Die patriarchalischen Verheissungen und Messianischen Psalmen, Hitzig: Die prophetischen Bücher des Alten Testaments (1854). Schegg: Die kleinen Propheten (1854).—c. Messianic types. Kanne: Christus im Alten Testament. Hiller: Die Reihe der Vorbilder Jesu Christi im Alten Testament, new ed. by A. Knapp. Lisco: Das Ceremonialgesetz des Alten Testaments (1842). Baehr: Symbolik (1837). Baehr. Salomonische Tempel,—also Kurtz, Friedrich, Sartorius, Keil, Kliefoth, and others.—A more particular reference will be made in the Biblework upon Leviticus. [Fairbairn: Typology. Marsh: Lectures, and works of less note and importance. Matthews, Keach, J. Taylor, Gould.—A. G.]—d. Messianic prophecies. Newton: Lecture on the Prophecies. Kœster, Knobel, Ewald, Tholuck. Staehelin: Die Messianischen Weissagungen, &c. (1847). Meinertzhagen: Vorlesungen über die Christologie des Alten Testaments (1843). Reinke: Die Messianischen Psalmen (1857).—Die Weissagungen (1862).—Hengstenberg: Christology, 2d ed. Baur: History of the Old Testament Prophecy (1861). [Smith: Scripture testimony to the Messiah; Magee: On the Atonement; Faber: On the Prophecies; Warburton: Divine Legation; Hurd: Introduction to the Study of the Prophets; Jones: Lectures; Graves: Lectures on the Pentateuch; McEwen: Essay; Samuel Mathers: On the figures and types of the Old Testament; Kidd: Christophany; Steward: Mediatorial Sovereignty; Turnbull: Theophany.—A. G.] 7. Principal writers of recent times.—J.D. Michaelis, Rosenmuller, Dathe, Meurer, J. J. Hess: Of the kingdom of God (1774–1791). Hengstenberg: Christology; Beiträge; Authenticity of the Pentateuch; of Daniel; Books of Moses and Egypt; History of Balaam and his prophecy; on the Psalms; work upon the sacrifices; on Job; Ecclesiastes; the Song of Solomon; and a work upon the Apocrypha. Ewald: History of the people of Israel; Poetical book; Prophets; Jahrbücher der biblischen Wissenschaft, 11 vols. Umbreit: Praktischer Commentar zu den Propheten. Hupfeld: Die Genesis; die Psalmen. Delitzsch: Genesis; Psalms; Song of Solomon. Baumgarten: Commentary upon Pentateuch and Zachariah. [On Genesis: Bush, Hackett Jacobus,—on Psalms: J. A. Alexander,—on Job: Barnes, Conant,—on Proverbs: M. Stuart, Bridges,—on the Song: Burroughs,—on Ecclesiastes: Young,—on Isaiah: Barnes, Henderson, Drechsler, Alexander,—on Ezekiel: Haevernick, Fairbairn,—the minor Prophets: Henderson, Percy, Moore.—A.G.] 8. Sermons upon Old Testament Books.—S. Fuhrmann: Handbuch, p. 263. Hohnbaum: Predigten, 2 vols. (1788–1789). Beyer: Die Geschichte der Urwelt in Predigten, 2 vols. (1795). The History of Israel in Sermons (1811). Predigten, von Sturm (1785). [Graves: Lectures on Pentateuch. Fuller: Discourses on Genesis. Lauson: Lectures on Ruth and Esther. Scott: Lectures on Daniel. Mcduff: On Elijah. Norton and Chandler: On David. Blunt: On Abraham; and a very wide literature of this kind in the works of the older English divines.—A.G.] 9. Homiletical and practical writings on the Old Testament.—Beyer: Predigten, an attempt to guard the unlearned against the attacks of enemies and scoffers. Bender: Old Testament examples in Sermons, 3 vols. (1857–1858). Gollhard: Outlines of sermons upon the historical books of the Old Testament (1854). W. Hofmann: Predigten, vols. 4 and 5. F. W. Krummacher: Neue, book of the advent (1847). H. Arndt: Christus im Alten Bunde (1861). G. D. Krummacher: Predigten. Emil Krummacher: Gideon, der Richter Israels (1861). Natorp: Predigten über das Buch Ruth (1803). Arndt: Der Mann nach dem Herzen Gottes (1836). Disselhof (1859): Upon Saul and David. Baumgarten: David der König (1862); Introduction to the book of Kings, Halle (1861). Paulus Cassel: König Jeroboam (1857). F. W. Krummacher: Homilies upon Elijah and Elisha [published by Tract Society, N. Y.—A. G.]. Diedrich: Das Buch Hiob (1858). Ebrard: The same. The Psalms, by J. D. Frisch, new ed. (1857). Burk: Gnomon Psalmorum (1760). Oetinger: Die Psalmen Davids, newly revised (1860). Veillodter: Predigten (1820). Iken: Trostbibel für Kranke, in einem passenden Auszug aus den Psalmen (1835). Psalmen von Thalhofer [Catholic] (1860). Taube and Guenther: On the Psalms. Hammer: Die Psalmen des Alten Testaments; The words of St. Bernard upon the Song (1862). F. W. Krummacher, Jahn, Maydorn: Das Hohe Lied. W. Hofmann: Die grossen Propheten, explained by the writings of the Reformers. Schroeder: Die Propheten Hosea, Joel, Amos, übersetzt und erläutert. Diedrich: Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, briefly explained (1861). J. Schlier: Upon the Minor Prophets. Lavater: Predigten über das Buch Jonas. Brieger: The 53d Ch. of Isaiah (1858). Rinck: Der Prophet Haggai (1857). [Chandler: Life of David; Hall: Contemplation; Faber: Horae Mosaicae; Ryder: Family Bible; Blunt: Coincidences of the Old and New Testament. The Royal Preacher. Hamilton. One of the volumes in Edwards’ works contains suggestive notes upon various passages. Guthrie: Gospel in Ezekiel. Brown: Evenings with the Prophets. Burt: Redemption’s Dawn. Caldwell: Lectures on the Psalms. Chalmers: Daily Readings. Cummings, Kitto, Hunter: Sacred Biography. Maurice: Prophets and Kings. Patriarchs and Lawgivers.—A. G.] Remark.—The literature upon Genesis, and in a great measure for the Pentateuch, will be found in the special Introductions. 10. Apocrypha.—Beckhaus: Bemerkungen über den Gebrauch der apokryphischen Bücher. Das Exegetische Handbuch von Fritsche and Grimme.—(Volkmar: Handbuch, 1. Theil.) Against the Apocrypha by Mann (1853). Keerl (1855). Wild (1854). Oschwald, and others. For the same Hengstenberg. Für Beibehaltung der Apokryphen (1853). Stier (1853). Scheele (1855), and others. [Jones: On the Canon. Alexander: On the Canon. Wordsworth: On the Canon. Thornwell: On the Apocrypha. Prideaux: Connection.—A. G.] FOURTH DIVISION THE ORGANISM, OR THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE BIBLICAL BOOKS a. Names of the Bible The Old Testament: the Law, Joshua 1:8; Matthew 22:36; Psalms 119:92; Matthew 5:18; Luke 16:17; John 10:34; John 12:34. The Scripture, or Holy Scripture, John 5:39; Romans 15:4; Galatians 3:22.—The word of God.—The law and the prophets: Matthew 5:17. Moses and the prophets: Luke 16:29; Luke 16:31. The law, prophets, and other writings, the prologue of Jesus Sirach. The law, prophets, and the Psalms: Luke 24:44. The book of the law: Joshua 8:34, &c. The law in many cases designates the giving of the law in the narrower sense. b. The Different Bibles When we speak of the Bible it is presupposed that we are treating of one definite fixed object. But this is not the case. In reference to the Old Testament, we must distinguish the Bible of the Jews in Palestine, the Bible of the Alexandrine Hellenists, the Septuagint, and that Christian arrangement of the Bible already introduced by Josephus. We apprehend the Bible first preëminently as the book of the Religion of the future. Hence upon the basis of the Thorah, law (the five books of Moses), there is laid the great group of the prophets, Nebiim. The earlier or former prophets follow upon the earlier historical books, Joshua, Judges, the two books of Samuel, and the two books of Kings, not only because these books were written by the prophets, but much more because the Israelitish history was recognized as typical and prophetic. Then follow the later prophets—our minor and greater prophets—with the exception of Daniel. The third division includes the Kethubbim, i. e., the writings regarded purely as writings, not so named merely as the latest collection, writings in a general sense, but destined from the very beginning to work as writings in a higher rank. To the later historical books, Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, are added the poetical books: Psalms, Job, Proverbs, then the prophet Daniel, and the Megilloth (rolls), the Song, Ecclesiastes, Ruth, Lamentations, Esther. The introduction of the theocratic life, the unfolding of that life to the New Covenant, the bloom and flower of the theocratic life, this is unquestionably the ideal ground and source of the arrangement. That the Alexandrine Bible rests upon a theory of inspiration, more free and wider than the canonical limits, is evident from its embracing the Old Testament Apocrypha with the canonical books, which the Septuagint could never have done, had it held fast the pure Hebrew idea of the Canon. From the circumstance that the Seventy have not made the canonicity of the apocryphal books of special importance, some have drawn the groundless inference that they held the same position as to the Canon with the Hebrew Jews. They were kept from asserting the canonicity of the Apocrypha by their ecclesiastical prudence, just as the Sadducees were prevented by the same prudence from denying the canonicity of the Old Testament books beyond the law. The Christian arrangement of the Old Testament into historical books (from Genesis to Esther), didactic books (from Job to the Song), and prophetic books (from Isaiah to Malachi), corresponds better with the Christian point of view, since a parallel is thereby secured to the arrangement of the New Testament. The term, didactic books, answers better to this parallel, than the expression poetical books. But even as to the Hebrew Jews, and their judgment upon the Hebrew Bible, the Pharisees had a different Bible from the Sadducees, and these again from the Essenes. The first enlarged and obscured the Old Testament through their traditions. Their direction ended legitimately in the Talmud. The second emptied the law of its deeper living contents, since they expounded it as exclusively a moral, and in that sense only a religious, law-book. They were the forerunners of the modern deistic Judaism. The third allegorized the Old Testament and divided it, with thorough rationalistic arbitrariness, into canonical and uncanonical portions. In their dualistic theosophy, as the Alexandrine philosophy of religion, they were the fore-runners of the Cabbalah. That the Bible of the post-Christian Jews, i. e., the Old Testament obscured and enlarged by their traditions, is an entirely different Bible from the Old Testament which unfolds and glorifies itself in the New Testament, is as clear as day. The injurious effects of the Catholic tradition upon the Holy Scripture, which is obscured by the attempt to place the Apocrypha upon a level with the Old Testament, is confessed. The Greek church at the synod at Jerusalem, 1672, emphatically adopted the same view of the Bible, as the way had been prepared for this, through its traditional development. It cannot be denied, indeed, that the evangelical Protestant Bible may be and has often been obscured, e. g., when it is explained in accordance with a one-sided view of the Lutheran doctrine of Justification, or the Reformed doctrine of Predestination. The manifold sufferings, obscurations, disfigurations, and crucifixions of Christ in his church, are reflected in the entirely homogeneous sufferings of the Bible. In the evangelic sects of the middle ages and the forerunners of the Reformation, the buried Bible was unearthed from its tomb. With the profound development, spiritual quickening, and culture of the church, will it first be recognized in all its glory. c. The old and New testaments The one word of God, or Holy Scripture, falls into the records of the Old and New Covenants, into the Old and New Testaments. The unity of the two as the word of God is conditioned upon the nisus of the Old Testament towards the New (the promise, the prophecy of the Messiah, Jeremiah 31:31, &c.) and upon the reference of the New Testament to the Old (Matthew 1:1; Matthew 2:5, &c.; Isa. 6:39, and similar places). In this way the absolute superiority of the New Testament to the Old is as certainly preannounced in the Old (Psalms 51; Jeremiah 31:31; Isaiah 66:3 ff.; Daniel 7), as it is expressly declared in the New Testament (Matthew 11:11; Matthew 12:41-42; John 1:17-18; Acts 15:10-11; 2 Corinthians 3:6; the Epistles of James and the Hebrews). With this it is taught, on the one hand, that the value of the Old Testament as to its external aspect and for itself, in reference to the Jewish national and exclusive religion, is abolished. (Galatians 3:19; Galatians 4:5; Ephesians 2:15; Col. 2:44; Hebrews 8:13.) But it is taught also, on the other hand, and with the same distinctness, that the New Testament firmly establishes the Old in its eternal value, as the foundation, the preparation, the introductory revelation, on which it rests. (Matthew 5:17 ff.; John 5:39; Romans 3:31.) d. The Organism of the New Testament See Lange: Matthew, Am. ed. p. 24. e. The Organism of the Old Testament The book of the Old Covenant as the prefiguration of the New Covenant, or of the Advent of Christ. 1)The Announcement of the New Covenant in the Old. The Thorah (the law). a.Genesis, or the universal foundation of the theocratic particularism, and of the particularism in its universal destination or aim and tendency. b.Exodus, or the prophetic and moral form of the law of the Old Covenant (the tabernacle in Exodus is regarded chiefly as the place for the law, and the law-givers. It is the place of the human cultus only in a secondary point of view. Hence the tabernacle appears here, and not first in Leviticus). c.Leviticus, or the priestly and ritual form of the law of the Old Covenant. d.Numbers, or the kingly and political form of the law of the Old Covenant (the martial host of God and its march. Typical imperfection). e.Deuteronomy, as the reproduction of the law in the solemn light of the prophetic spirit. 2)The actual typical development of the Old Covenant until the decline of its typical glory and the preparation for its ideal glory. Historical books. a.The book of Joshua. The introduction of the theocratic people into the typical inheritance of the people of God. The conquest. The division. b.The book of Judges. The independent expansion of the Israelitish tribes in the land of promise. The stages of apostasy, and the appearance of the theocratic heroes, judges, in the different tribes. The tribes after their dark side. As an appendix, a gleam of light, the little book of Ruth. c.The books of Samuel, or the collection of the tribes and the introduction of the kingdom by Samuel, the last of the judges (the desecration of the priesthood, the introduction of the kingdom, the preparation for the prophets in the stricter sense, through the schools of the prophets). The first book, Saul the rejected king. The second book, David the king called of God. d.The two books of Kings. The theocratic kingdom from its highest glory to its decay. The first of Solomon, the type of the Prince of Peace, and of the kingdom of peace, until Elijah, the type of the judgment by fire; the second from the ascension of Elijah, or the apotheosis of the law, to the decline of the kingdom, of the people of the law. e.The two books of Chronicles. The Old Testament history of the kingdom of God, in a theocratic point of view, from Adam until the order for the return of Israel from the Babylonian captivity. f.The book of Ezra. The priestly and ritual restoration of the holy people and the temple. g.Nehemiah. The theocratic and political restoration of the people and the holy city. h.Esther. The wonderful salvation and change in the history of the people of God, during the exile, dispersion, and persecution. 3) The preliminary New Testament bloom of Old Testament life in its course of development. 1. The theocratic and Messianic Lyrics. The Psalms. 2.The didactics of Solomon in their universal scope and tendency. a.Job. The inscrutableness and vindication of the divine wisdom and righteousness, especially in the trials of the pious. b.The trilogy of Solomon. α. The foundation and regulation of the natural and moral world in the wisdom of God. Proverbs of Solomon. β. The vanity of the world in the folly of human designs, which do not recognize the eternity, in the (every) divine moment. Ecclesiastes. γ. The transfiguration of the world through love (as the Old Testament church was turned away from Solomon and his polygamy and mixed religion, to its New Testament friend). 4)The prophetic images or representations of the New Testament in the Old. a.The four great prophets, or the fundamental relations of the Messianic prophecy. 1. Isaiah. The personal Christ as prophet, priest, and king. The Apocalypse of Isaiah (Isaiah 40-66). 2. Jeremiah. The prophetic Messianic kingdom (Jeremiah 30-33). The prophetic Martyrdom. The Apocalypse of Jeremiah (Jeremiah 45-51). The Lamentations. 3. Ezekiel. The priestly Messianic kingdom. The Apocalypse of Ezekiel. The death-valley of Israel, and that of Gog. The glorious life of Israel. The new temple, and the living stream issuing from it for the heathen world. 4.Daniel. Throughout Apocalyptic. The royal Messianic kingdom. The world-monarchies in the light side (Daniel 2), and in the dark side (Daniel 7). Christ and the typical and final Antichrist. The present and future age. b.The twelve minor prophets, or the special relations of the future of the Messianic kingdom. 1. The portal of the prophetic period. The book of Jonah, or the raising of the universalism above the particularism. 2. The oppositions of the old sins and the new salvation. α. Hosea, or the marriage covenant broken by the people, and the new marriage between Jehovah and his people. β. Joel. The locust-march as an image of the march of the hosts of the Lord for the destruction of all the glory of flesh. The new blossoming of the world through the outpouring of the Spirit of God. γ. Amos. The completed sins and the completed punishment upon the old world, even upon the glory of the old temple, and the redemption and collection of all the remnants from the Heathen and Jews, into the plain tabernacle of David. δ. Micah. The judgment of God upon the mountains, and all the high places and things of the earth, and the appearance of the new Saviour and salvation out of little Bethlehem, for the exaltation of the lowly. 3. The visions of judgments. α. Obadiah. The judgment upon Edom—as the type of Antichrist—filled with envious joy over his fallen brother. β. Nahum. The judgment upon Nineveh as the type of the fleshly Antichrist, the apostate world-power. γ. Habakkuk. The judgment upon Babylon, as the type of the demoniac, self-deifying Antichrist. δ. Zephaniah. The day of anger upon the whole old world. The judgment of Judah, introducing the dawn of salvation. 4. The three prophets of the second temple, as the clearest revealers of the advent of the Messiah. α. Haggai. The glory of the second temple in contrast with that of the first. The coming of the Lord to his temple. The polluted people. The necessity for purification. β. Zechariah. The future of the Messiah in contrast with the duration of the world-kingdoms. 1. The Messianic kingdom in opposition to the kingdom of the world (Zechariah 1:1 to Zechariah 8:2). The Messiah in his progress from his humiliation to his exaltation. Zechariah 9-14. γ. Malachi. The coming day of the Lord. The forerunner of the Messiah. The Messiah. His day a fiery oven for the godless. A sun of righteousness for the pious. The turning of Fathers to the Children, of Children to the Fathers; the connection between the Old and New Covenant. APPENDIX THE OLD TESTAMENT APOCRYPHA 1)In relation to the canonical books of the Old Testament. Additions to the books of Chronicles: the book Judith, Tobiah, Baruch, the prayer of Manasseh. Additions to the book of Esther. Additions to the writings of Solomon: the wisdom of Solomon. Additions to Jeremiah: the book Baruch. Additions to Daniel: history of Susannah, of the Bel at Babylon, of the Dragon at Babylon, the prayer of Azariah, the song of the three men in the furnace. Viewed as original writings through the claims of the Septuagint: the books of Maccabees, the wisdom of Jesus Sirach. 2) In the opposition of Hebraism and Alexandrianism. Hebraic: Judith. The book of Tobiah. Jesus Sirach. The 1st book of Maccabees. Additions to Esther. Additions to Daniel. Additions to the prayer of Manasseh. Hellenistic: The wisdom of Solomon. The 2d book of Maccabees. 3)In the division: historical books, didactic books, prophetic books. a.Historical books: the books of Maccabees. b.Poetical or didactic books: the book Judith, wisdom of Solomon, Tobiah, Sirach. Additions to Esther, to Daniel, the prayer of Manasseh. c.Prophetic books: elementary parts of Tobiah, the book Baruch. There was a complete disappearance of prophecy until its last point, John the Baptist. The repression of Messianic hopes was due to the eminence of the Maccabean house of the tribe of Levi, in consequence of which the expectation of a Messiah out of the tribe of Judah was only a secret hope of the pious in the land. See the timid clause 1Ma 14:41. Compare the Introduction to the Old Testament, by Richter, Lisco, Gerlach, in the Calwer Handbook. FIFTH DIVISION AN APPENDIX ON THE SO-CALLED DIFFICULT PLACES IN THE OLD TESTAMENT, AS THE CENTRAL POINTS OF THE GLORY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT RELIGION[1] To the paragraph Archæology (see § 14). The so-called difficulties in the Old Testament have been brought out with special distinctness in modern times by the Freethinkers and kindred opposers of the doctrine of revelation: these, namely, the acquisition of the Egyptian jewels, Balaam’s ass, and the arresting of the sun by Joshua. Although the most renowned attacks upon these and similar places bear upon their face the character, partly of careless malevolence, partly of childish absurdity, still it cannot be denied that these difficulties lie as hindrances in the way of faith, to many cultivated persons, and even to many honest and scientific thinkers of our day. But these honest sceptics find themselves in a truly critical position. For, while on one side they are driven over into unbelief by hypercritics and witlings, there is offered them from the other side the helping hand of an apologetic exegesis which has created in many cases the very misconceptions from which it would free doubting spirits. Thus, on the one side, stand the sceptical investigator of nature, who brings the nebulæ of the heavens and the strata of the earth as witnesses for the boundless antiquity of the world, in order that he may charge the Bible, even it its first line, with error in its computation of time; the pantheistic worldling, who finds in the human-like tongue of the biblical God the characteristic mark of childish tradition; the deistic moralist, who, in the history of the marriages of the patriarchs, and in the supposed robbery of the Egyptian treasures at the command of God, detects with boasting the original conflict of the Bible with pure morals; the infidel, who from of old has always taken his most cheerful ride upon Balaam’s ass; the swaggering skirmisher, who uses the arresting of the sun by Joshua in order that he may put the host of the Lord to flight. But, on the other side, the apologetic exegesis seeks in nearly all cases to rescue the assaulted positions only by the most modest defensive, while it brings into view now the incorrect exegetical understanding of the word, then the figurative allegorical expressions of the writer, then the natural side of the extraordinary events, and lastly the wonderful power of God. It cannot be denied indeed that in this way very important aid has been gained to the clearing and justification of the Old Testament text. But neither can it be denied that these isolated processes leave the difficulties in their totality essentially unremoved, while in many ways they contribute to them, and confirm them. We are very far from demanding that the Apologetics in this field should make the darkest secrets unobjectionable to the unbeliever, or plain and comprehensible to the sceptic. The offence of the cross of Christ will have its eternal significance for the ungodly world, even in these questionable places. But this isolated, disconnected method of defence can never bring into clear view, that it is the divine understanding of revelation itself which brings forward these vary facts, at which the human understanding in its worldly direction must take offence. The generic, that which is common in all these difficulties, and the divine reason and wisdom which appear distinctly in them—in a word, the positive glory of revelation is not sufficiently insisted upon. The studied way in which they (the apologists) only defend, but do not glorify them as the great proof of the work of God, the hurried joy with which they pass from them, the embarrassment with which they gladly avoid the dark riddles, in that they rest in general upon the almighty miraculous strength of God, neither meets the necessities of inquiring spirits, nor the requirements of faith in the church, nor the necessities of knowledge in theology. It is only when the central point of the offence at the Old Testament in our day, has been proved to be the central part of the glory of revelation, that we can satisfy the honest doubt, or answer the very end of the Old Testament. A glance at the most considerable difficulties in the New Testament will illustrate what has been said. Here truly we meet, first of all, the miracles of Christ, his supernatural birth, his resurrection, in a word the chief facts of his life, and the doctrines connected with them of his deity, the trinity, the atonement, and his coming to judgment, i. e., all the great mysteries which appear to the sceptic as pre-eminently an offence and foolishness. The old apologists have limited themselves here generally to a discursive defence; they have taken refuge even here on one side in evasions and mere attempts to invalidate objections, and on the other side in the direct support of God, and for the most part passed as rapidly as possible, and at any price, by the great riddles which they should have solved. But the modern churchly theology has long since risen above this miserable defensive. It brings out the mysteries and those things full of mystery, at which men stumble, as the very heart of the history and doctrine of Christ; it shows that the very glory of the New Testament reveals itself in them. The same must be altogether true of the difficulties of the Old Testament. By how much more remarkable the phenomenon, darker the riddle, stronger the objection, by so much greater must be the significance of the fact in question, so much richer its revealed contents, so much more glorious its divine fulness of the spirit. The difficulties in the Old Testament are the central points of the glory of the Old Testament religion. Each difficulty marks a peculiar rejection of false heathen views of the world, through the very point of the difficulty, in which the true revealed view of the world is disclosed. We will endeavor, from this point of view, to sketch the chief stages in the development of the Old Testament religion. I The Account of the Creation. The Records of the pure idea of the Creation, of the pure idea of God, of the ideas of Nature and the World in opposition to the heathen view of the World, especially to the Theogonistic, Cosmogonistic, Deistic, Naturalistic, Pantheistic, and Dualistic Assumptions (Genesis 1) The Pantheist takes offence here, because the record speaks of an eternally present God, and, in opposition to his view, of a temporal world which the eternal God has called into being through his word; the dualist stumbles at the assumption that even matter itself, the original substance of the world, has sprung from the creative power of God; the deist, on the contrary, finds in the assumption that God, after the days’ works were completed, had then rested, a childish dream, which ignores the idea of omnipotence; the naturalist believes that with the co-working of omnipotence from moment to moment the idea of the natural orderly development of things is destroyed; philosophy generally thinks that it is here dealing with a myth, which is arranged partly through its orthodox positiveness, and partly through its sensuous pictures or images; the modern sceptical natural philosoper makes it a matter of ridicule that the sun, moon, and stars should first be formed in the fourth creative day, and indeed that the whole universe is viewed as rendering a service to this little world; that the heavenly light should have existed before the heavenly lights, but especially that the original world should have arisen only 6000 years ago, and that its present form, for which millions of years are requisite, should have been attained in the brief period of six ordinary days. But the opponents who differ most widely agree in this, that it is fabulous, that the Bible should make an entirely new report of pre-historical things, with the most perfect assurance. We shall not enumerate the insufficient replies made from the stand-point of the earlier apologetics. It is worthy of remark, however, that the theology of the schools has here occasioned a circle of misconceptions, which the latest theology of the church has in great measure removed. The deciding word as to this first doctrinal portion of the Holy Scriptures has already been uttered long since in the epistle to the Hebrews. By faith we understand that the world was made (prepared) by the word of God, so that the things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.[2] The record of creation is therefore a record of the very first act of faith, and then of the very first act of revelation, which, as such, lies at the foundation of all the following, and in its result reproduces itself in the region of faith, from the beginning on to the end of days. It is the monotheistic Christian creative word, the special watch word of the pure believing view of the world. Ex ungue leonem. The first leaf of scripture goes at a single step across the great abyss of materialism into which the entire heathen view of the world had fallen, and which no philosophic system has known how to avoid, until perfected by this. Pantheism here meets its refutation in the word of the eternal personal God of creation, who established the world by his almighty word; abstract theism, in the production of the world out of the living word of God; dualism, in the doctrine that God has created matter itself; naturalism, in the clear evidence of the positive divine foundation of the world, in the origin of every new step in nature. With the pure idea of God, we win at the same time the pure idea of the world, and with the pure idea of creation, the pure idea of nature. Creation goes through all nature, in so far as God, from one step in nature to another, ever produces in a creative way the new and higher; at last man, after his bodily organic manifestation. On the other hand also the idea of nature runs through the whole idea of creation, in so far as God has endowed every creative principle which he has placed in the world with its own law of development, and with a conditioned independence; to plants, to animals, and to man. The creation reaches its perfection and glory in the human spirituality, since in this it is prepared for the revelation of the divine life; in his freedom nature is glorified, since its relative independence is here raised to the free blessed life of men in God. Just as the biblical idea of God is free from the heathen element of a passive deity, who suffers the world to flow out from himself, so the biblical idea of the world is free from the heathen assumption that the world is some magical transformation of existing material, or even of a positive nonentity. And as the biblical idea will not tolerate the absolutist’s assumption of an abstract deified omnipotence, which neither limits nor communicates itself, so the biblical idea of nature cannot be reconciled with the naturalistic assumption, which derives all the forms in nature out of one general creative act, and holds that one step in nature produces another. We will not dwell upon the objections which the most illustrious and popular natural philosophers have raised against the work of the fourth creative day. That the light was before the light-bearers; that the appearance of the firmament to the earth was first manifested in the same day in which the earth was discovered to the firmament; that for man, from his stand-point, the earth formed an important contrast with the vastness of the heavens; this does not require many words. But the day-works and the age of the world? The Mosaic computation, it is said, allows about 6000 years for the history of man. For the entire universe there is then the higher antiquity of—an added week—the six creative days. But these six days, the most recent scientific churchly exegesis[3] says, are symbolical days, i. e., six periods of the development of creation. The evenings, it is said further, mark the epochs of destruction, the revolutions of the world in its progress; on the other hand, the mornings mark the epochs of the new and higher structure of the world. The fact that, in the Hebrew designation, day often denotes a period of time, and that these days are here spoken of before the cosmical organization of the world into the planetary system, favors this view. To this we must add the prophetic biblical style of the narrative. Bearing this in mind, the defender of the pure sense of scripture can hear these natural philosophers speak of the thousands and millions of years of the earth’s development with a serene smile, as an investigator of the Bible, namely: but whether as an investigator of nature is another question. For the recent natural philosophy appears extremely rash in surrounding itself with its millions of years, not in the spirit of nature, nor in accordance with its formation. The defender of the biblical text, as the friend of nature, may be allowed the word: We grant you willingly your thousands of years for the formation of the earth and the world. But bethink yourselves well. According to the laws of present nature, it develops itself very rapidly in all the first effusions and stages of its life; on the contrary, you require for the first glowing seeds of life and living structures an endlessly slow lapse of time. In nature we see all subordinate things arise and disappear quickly; you require æons for the first rudest fundamental forms of creation. If the spirit of scripture absolve you in this lavish use of millions of years for the cooling of the globes of gas, and the formation of primitive monsters, ask yourselves whether the spirit of nature will grant you absolution! But, from the records of creation, you can learn that nature rests upon the principles of creation, unfolds itself in living contrasts, completes itself in ascending lines, and is glorified in man and his divine destination, i. e., in other words, that nature springs out from the miracle, through miraculous stages (new principles of creation), ascends from step to step, and in the miracle of the perfect image of God reaches its new birth. II Paradise, or the Records of the original ideal state of the Earth and the Human Race. (Genesis 2) Paradise, it is said, is a beautiful myth, growing out of mythical ideas of the earth which the oldest geographers entertained. Thus also the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the tree of life, and the serpent are regarded as mythical traditions. Thus the great theocratic element, which lies in the account of Paradise, is entirely lost. Of the first great historical type we have only left a fantastic philosophic hypothesis concerning the commencement of the race, and the origin of evil. The theology of the schools, which views the account of Paradise not only as throughout historical, but as barely historical, in opposition to its symbolical import, has here pre-eminently prepared the way for misconceptions and misinterpretation. As the fourth stream of Paradise, the Euphrates and its source cannot be a myth, so neither can the four streams generally. And as the first man is not a myth, so neither is his first residence. But on the other side also the streams and trees of Paradise are just as little to be regarded as barely natural, or belonging to the natural history of Paradise, or the mere individual forms, particularities, of the pre-historical world. The significance of Paradise is this, that it declares the original ideal state of the earth and the human race, the unity of the particular and the general, the unity of spirit and nature, the unity of spiritual innocence and the physical harmony of nature, the unity of the fall and the disturbance of nature—lastly, the unity of facts and their symbolical meaning, which both the barely literal and mythical explanations of the record rend asunder. There was a paradise and it was local, but it was at the same time the symbol of the paradisiac earth. The same thing is true of the four streams. Whether the original source of the four streams is not marked by the stream in the midst of the garden may be left undecided; it is enough that it was actually one, and at the same time the symbol of all the fountains of blessing upon the earth. Whether the tree of life was one physical plant, or rather the glorification of nature, in the determinate form of the manifestation of God in the garden, is a matter of question; as a symbol it designates the total healing and living strength of nature under the revelation of the Spirit. The tree of knowledge of good and evil existed in some one form, but with it all nature is in some measure designated as a test. But the serpent as the organ of that temptation is not only the type of temptation and of sin, but, as originally a worm, the type of its brutality, its degradation, and its subjection. As the account of the creation declares the opposition and harmony between God and the world, so the account of Paradise declares the opposition and the harmony between the spirit and nature. Here you have the connection between the actual primitive man and the ideal man, between man and the earth, between the fact and the idea: the consecrated bodily nature, the consecrated senses, the consecrated, indeed sacramental, pleasure, and on the other side human talent, freedom, and responsibility. Break this golden band between spirit and nature, between the actual fact and the symbol, and you fall back into that old accursed opposition between spiritualism and materialism, which burdened the heathen world and will run through all your moral æsthetic and philosophic ideas as a fatal cleft. III The First Human Pair: the Records of the ideal and actual Unity of the Human Race, and of the male and female Nature in the true Marriage (Genesis 2) With a stroke or two of the pen, the biblical view of the world places itself above the aboriginal doctrines of every heathen people, and all national pride and haughtiness, with the barbarism and hatred which are connected with it. In a few lines it records the equality by birth of the male and female sexes, the mystical nature of true marriage, the sanctity of the married and domestic life, and condemns the heathen degradation of woman, the sexual lawlessness or lust, as also the theosophic and monkish contempt of the sexual nature. Weighed in this balance, Aristotle, Gregory VII. and Jacob Boehm have been found wanting. Strauss asserts that the generic varieties of the human race, as the foundation of the old aboriginal traditions, has now become anew the common doctrine of the natural philosopher, and philosophy. Then it would follow that Blumenbach, Cuvier, Shubert, Karl Von Raumer, John Muller (the anatomist), and Alexander Von Humboldt, who have taught the generic unity of the human race, are not natural philosophers. IV The Fall and Judgment, or the Records of the historical character of the Sin of the Creature, opposed to both Idea and Nature; of the Holiness of the Divine Judgment, and of the connection and opposition between Sin and Evil (Genesis 3) The record of the actual fall stands there as an eternal judgment upon the theoretical fall, the human view of moral evil, especially upon the errors of Dualism and Manicheism, Pelagianism and Pantheism. Hence arise the numerous and strong objections which the most diverse systems in old and modern times have raised against this record. The earthly origin of evil out of the abuse of freedom offends Dualism, which derives it from an evil deity, from dark matter, or from the supremacy of sense. Although the serpent sustains the doctrine that, prior to the fall of man, sin had existed in a sphere on the other side, working through demoniac agency upon this (for the serpent was not created evil, Genesis 1:25, generally not even fitted for evil, and can only be regarded therefore as the organ of a far different evil power), yet the visible picture of the fall in this sphere, is a certain sign that the fall in that could only have risen through the abuse of the freedom of the creature. But, if we observe the progress of sin from the first sin of Eve to the fratricide of Cain; if we view the opposition between Cain and Abel, and the intimation of the moral freedom of Cain himself, so the Augustinian view, raising original sin to absolute original death, receives its illumination and its just limits. But how every Pelagian view of life falls before this record, as it brings into prominence the causal connection between the sin of the spirit world and that of man, between the sin of the woman and the man, between the sin of our first parents and their own sinfulness and the sinfulness of their posterity! If we take into view the stages of the development of evil in the genesis of the first sin, how limited and vapid appears the modern view, which regards the senses as the prime starting point of evil! But when Pantheism asserts the necessity of sin, or rather of the fall, as the necessary transition of men from the state of pure innocence to that of conscious freedom, the simple remark, that the ingenuousness of Adam would have been carried directly on in the proper way, if he had stood the test, just as Christ through his sinlessness has reached the knowledge of the true distinction between good and evil, and has actually shown that sin, notwithstanding its inweaving with human nature, does not belong to its very being, clearly refutes the assertion. But how clear is the explanation of evil, of punishment and of judgment, as it meets us in this account! that the natural evil does not belong to the moral, but, notwithstanding its inward connection with it, is still the divine counteracting force against it; that punishment is to redeem and purify; that from the very acme of the judgment breaks forth the promise and salvation. These truths, which are far above every high anti-christian view of the world, make it apparent that the first judgment of God, as a type of the world-redeeming judgment of God, has found its completion in the death of Christ upon the cross. V The Macrobioi, or the long-lived Fathers and Enoch, or the Revelation of the Difference between the ideal and historical Human Death The long lives of the Fathers, the years of Methuselah, the translation of Enoch, are difficult riddles to the common view of the world, which recognizes no distinction between the ideal death (i. e., the original form, resembling a metamorphism, of the transition from the first to the second human life), and the historical death. But this difference is here clearly made known in these facts. Originally, there was granted to man a form of transition from the first to the second life, which is closed through the historical death, until it appears again in the glorification of the risen Christ and the declaration of the Apostles (1 Corinthians 15; 2 Corinthians 5). With sin the historical death makes its inroads upon humanity. But it can only, slowly creeping from within outward, break through the strong resistance of the original physical human nature; hence the long lives of the primitive fathers. Here the spiritual power of death has first gradually penetrated the physical nature; this is the significance of the long lives of the antediluvians. The spiritual power of the life of Christ, as it runs parallel with the old death in its progress from within outward, will at the last permeate the physical nature again; and then will the long lives appear again. But, as the last Macrobioi shall attain the original form of the ideal death, the translation, so in an exceptive way Enoch through his piety obtained it of old. Therefore he stands also as the citadel of immortality, of the victory over death, and of the ideal form of translation, in the midst of the death periods of the primitive fathers; in himself alone a sufficient voucher, that the Old Testament in its very first pages is stamped with this idea. In these leaves also we possess the records of that idea of death by which the faith of revelation strides victoriously away from all the ordinary ideas of death in ancient or modern times. VI The Flood, and the Ark, or the Glorification of all the great Judgments of God upon the World; and of all the counter-working forms of Salvation, as they begin with the Ark and are completed in the Church (Genesis 6-8) The great water-flood is established, through the concurrent testimony of ancient people, as the great event of traditionary antiquity. But the deluge and the ark! Let it be observed here, however, that just as the idea of punishment explains the undeniably existing natural evil, so the light of the deluge illuminates the wild waves of the great water-flood. And just as out of the first curse sprang the blessing of the promise, so salvation, the saving ark, was borne upon the waves of the first final judgment. In this light the deluge is the great type of all the judgments of God upon the earth, and therefore especially of baptism, which introduces the Christian into the communion of the completed redeeming judgment of God, the death of Christ upon the cross. The first general world judgment was introduced through the universal dominion, and the unshaken establishment, of human corruption. But this was brought about through the ungodly marriages, the misalliances between the sons of God and the daughters of men, i. e., the posterity of Seth and of Cain. It is evident, indeed, that the Alexandrian Exegesis and that of the earliest Church Fathers have introduced the difficulty into the text, that the sons of God were angels. Kurtz still asserts that the Bni Elohim are elsewhere only used of angels. But if the vicegerents of God on the earth (Psalms 82:6) are called Elohim, and Bni Eljon, they may even much more be called Bni Elohim, in a position in which they should have defended the divine upon the earth, but rather betrayed it. The connection, according to which the fourth chapter treats of the descendants of Cain, and the fifth of those of Seth, authorizes us to expect that here both genealogies are united. After the history has shown how the curse of sin has spread itself with the human arts, in the line of Cain namely, even polygamy and murder glorified through the abuse of poetry, how on the contrary the blessing of the Lord advanced for a long time in the line of Seth, and with it the hope of redemption, it now shows how, through the misalliances referred to, the corruption became not only prevalent but giant-like and incurable. These false unions, based upon a principle of apostasy, and which made evident the profound connection between idolatry and whoredom, produced a race of spiritual bastards, who turned the very spirituality inherited from their fathers into sin. To look away from the fabulous in the assumption of a marriage connection between angels and men, it is inconceivable that the deception of the daughters of men through heavenly angelic forms, should be stated as a phenomenon of obduracy, and a cause of the flood. Here also the idea of apostasy, the yielding of the kingdom of God to the ungodly world, and the judgment springing therefrom, was introduced in the first great historical type; a significant portent, for the history of Israel as for the history of the Christian Church, to the end of the world. But that, in the very moment of the breaking forth of the judgment upon the world, an election from all creatures should enter into the ark, furnishes an example of the fact, that with the election of humanity a pure kernel of the creature world should be carried through the last final judgment, into a higher order of things. It should be observed by the way, that the three birds, the raven and two doves, must be regarded as the symbols of the three different exodes from the external church, so soon as we view the ark itself as the symbol of the church of salvation. This significance is not far-fetched. In the Roman Catholic view only ravens flee from the Church, in the assurance of antichristian spirits only doves, or the children of the Spirit. VII The Tower of Babel, the Confusion of Tongues, and the Teleology of Heathenism (Genesis 11) The monotonous Augustinian view of the hereditary relations of humanity finds already its correction in the opposition between Cain and Abel, and still more in that between the line of Seth and the line of Cain. We see, indeed, how death reigns through sin, in the line of Seth, and how at last corruption, working in the line of Cain, brought it to destruction. While, however, the typical saviour of the race and of the earth, Noah, came from the line of Seth, and out of its ruins, and while before him there was opposed only a line of blessing and of the curse (both moreover only in a relative degree), there is formed in the sons of Noah a threefold spiritual genealogy: the line of the curse, of which Ham or more definitely Canaan is the representative, stands opposed not only to a genealogy of divine blessing in Shem, but also of worldly blessings in Japheth. Still, both are girt around by the circle of sin and death. And as in the primitive race the earliest development appears in the line of Cain, so now in the new race in the line of Ham. Nimrod founds the old Babylonian kingdom. But the people assemble at Babel in order to found, in the tower reaching to heaven, the symbol of an all-embracing human world monarchy.[4] Beauty, lust, anarchy, brought the first race to destruction; an enthusiastic civilization, lust of empire, glory, desire for display, and despotism threaten to destroy the second. And now Shem and Japheth are in danger of losing their blessing in the earliest development of the power of Ham, in the Hamitic phantom of human glory. Hence the dispersion of the people, which as truly springs out of the deep spiritual errors of the people, as it was positively sent from above. Now Shem and Japheth could each in their own direction cultivate the blessing of spiritual piety which was their inheritance. And even within the race of Ham the curse of impiety was interupted through the mutual relations and influence in which it was placed with Shem and Japheth. Scattered around the tower, the people spread themselves into the world, according to their peculiarities, after the outline of the table (Genesis 10). The great value of this table has been recognized again in recent times. But this also must be kept in view, that in the dispersion of the people we have revealed the peculiar teleology of heathenism. It has a prevailingly admonitory, and yet preserving character. The people should not lose their peculiar character under the despotism of imperial uniformity. They should develop themselves according to all their peculiarities, in their different languages. Above all, the way was prepared for the development of Shem. VIII The Separation of Abraham, and of the Israelitish People in him; the Teleology of Judaism (Genesis 12 ff) The mere worldly culture, down to the most recent times, has found great difficulty with the biblical doctrine that God had chosen Abraham from among the people, and in him chosen the people of Israel to be an elect people, above all the most cultivated nations. Critics, who usually find no difficulties in the diversities of the nations, and praise beyond measure the peculiar prerogatives of the Greeks and Romans, will not see in these facts, that Israel was in Abraham the chosen people, in a religious point of view. But even here historical facts correspond to the divine purpose, and bear practical testimony to it. Israel has realized the blessing of its peculiar religions disposition in its revealed religion. But in this blessing the good pleasure of God to Abraham and his seed has been made known. The later Jews have indeed preverted their election into the caricature of pharisaic particularism. And, in many cases, unbelief and doubt have been contending with this caricature, while they supposed that they were contending with the scripture doctrine itself. But the word of the scripture runs thus: “In thee (Abraham) and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.” (Ch. 12:6.) That this passage does not say: “In thee shall all the nations of the earth bless themselves, or wish themselves blessed,” is evident from the preceding words: “I will bless them, that bless thee” (Ch. 12:3[5]). This then is the teleology of Judaism. As the heathen are scattered into all the world, in order, through their peculiar forms of culture, to prepare the vessels for the salvation of the Lord in Israel, so Israel is separated from among the nations, to be a peculiar people of faith, in order to become the organ of salvation for all nations. IX The Offering of Isaac, or the Sanctification of the Israelitish Sacrifice, and the Rejection of the Abomination of the Heathen We have here the most striking instance, in which the orthodox school theology, through its insufficient, narrow, literal explanation, has brought into the Bible difficulties at which even the noblest spirits have stumbled. The actual history of the offering of Isaac forms the peculiar starting point of the Israelitish religion, the glorious portal of the theocracy, the division between the sanctified Jewish sacrifices in their nature Messianic, and fulfilled in the atoning death of Christ, and the abomination of the human sacrificial worship of the heathen. What has the school theology made of this glorious history, the type of the whole Old Testament cultus? It has changed this in the highest sense isolated peculiar remarkable fact, into a dark and frightful riddle, which indeed appears like the heathen sacrifices, and through which already more than one has been betrayed into the path of fanatical sacrifices. The author here refers to the exegetical treatise of Hengstenberg, who has the merit of establishing the correct interpretation of this passage in his explanation of Jephthah’s vow.[6] Hengstenberg has in our view proved clearly that Jephthah did not kill his daughter, when he sacrificed her to the Lord, but devoted her entirely, under the usual consecration of a sacrifice, to perpetual temple service as a virgin, and he illustrates his method of proof through a reference to the sacrifice of Isaac.[7] The special proof lies in a reference to the fact, that the Hebrew cultus distinguishes between the spiritual consecration of man as a sacrifice, and the visible slaughter of an animal. Thus, e. g., according to 1 Samuel 1:24-25, the boy Samuel was brought by his parents to Eli the priest, and consecrated at the tabernacle, since the three bullocks were slain there as burnt offerings. The special grounds for the correct understanding of the sacrifice of Isaac are these: the root of the sacrifice, as to its nature, is the concession of the human will to the will of God (Psalms 40:7-9); fallen man cannot make this pure concession, therefore he represents it in a symbolical and typical way in the outward sacrifice. He brings at first to the deity fruits and animals. But a vague feeling assures him that Jehovah has claims upon the life of man itself. Meanwhile, however, he has lost the spiritual idea of sacrifice. The notion of sacrifice, or consecration, has become one to him with that of to slay and burn. Hence he falls upon the literal human sacrifice which he must offer the deity as a personal substitute. But the Old Testament rejects this literal human sacrifice throughout as an abomination. The Canaanites were punished especially for this abomination. This is not, as Ghillany thinks, that they themselves were offered to God as human sacrifices, as a punishment, because they had slain human sacrifices. The devotion of such idolaters to the curse and destruction, proves that the human sacrifice was the greatest abomination. Thus also the law treats this heathen corruption. But this corruption is thus unquestionably great, because it is the demoniac distortion of that thought of light, that God requires the sacrifice of the human heart, and in default of this the spiritual sacrifice of the substituted life of the atoning priest, or of the first-born in Israel, at last the absolute atonement of the concession of a pure man for sinful humanity. Hence this thought of light must be rescued from its distortion, and through the sacred care for its fulfilment, be preserved. The sacrifice of Isaac was destined to this end. God commanded Abraham: “Sacrifice to me thy son.” Abraham, as to the kernel of his faith, is the first Israelite, but, as to his inherited religious ideas, he is still a heathen Chaldee, who knows nothing else than that to offer, is to slay. But as he already, by his germ of faith, has distinguished the spiritual sacrifice from the abomination of the heathen, so in the critical moment he received the second revelation, which enlarges the first, since it prohibits the bodily killing of his son, with the declaration that he had already completed his spiritual sacrifice (Ch. 22:12). Nothing remains for him now, to meet his fullest religious necessities, than that he should enlarge and complete symbolically the spiritual sacrifice of his son through the corporeal sacrifice of the ram which the foresight of God had provided at hand (without commanding him to take its life). Now, the distinction and connection between the ideas of to sacrifice and to kill, which forms the peculiar consecration of the Israelitish sacrificial death, is made perfect. In this sense the human sacrifice of Abraham runs through the whole Israelitish economy, down to the New Testament (Luke 2:23-24). And the distinction between the holy sacrifice of the people of God, and the sacrificial abominations of the heathen, is completed. In the crucifixion, these two sacrifices outwardly come together, while really and spiritually they are separated as widely as heaven and hell. Christ yields himself in perfect obedience to the will of the Father, in the judgment of the world. That is the fulfilling of the Israelitish sacrifice. Caiaphas will suffer the innocent to die for the good of the people (John 11:50), and even Pilate yields him to the will of men (Luke 23:25); this is the completion of the Molochsacrifice. [8] X The Sexual Difficulties in the History of the Patriarchs, as they arise out of the Israelitish striving after the true ideal Marriage, and after the consecrated Theocratic Birth; in Revolt against the cruel service of Lust, and the unsanctified Sexual Unions and Conceptions in the Heathen World In the review of the known sexual difficulties also, it is the Israelitish rejection again of the heathen nature, on which one sits in judgment, with the modern developed view of intellectual heathenism. But here the Apologists believe that they have fully met the demands of the case, when they remark, that we must not measure the life of the ancient saints by the standard of Christian morals. But that the germinating seeds of the Christian ideal life and morals occasion these very difficulties, that we are thus here also dealing with the phenomena of Old Testament glory (which stands indeed far below the spiritual glory of the New Testament), this is evident from the very contrasts in which these facts are brought before us. The spirit of the Old Testament places the natural sexual desire in opposition to the unnatural; the object of the sexual desire, procreation, in opposition to the passion for its own sake; the true marriage—based upon the mind’s choice, to the common or even barely external union of the sexes; the consecrated holy birth, in opposition to the birth or conception “after the will of the flesh.” In other words, it seeks the true sacred marriage, perfected indeed through its destination, the conception of the consecrated child of promise. It sanctifies the traditional marriage through the true sacred character of the higher union of soul, and the sexual desire through spiritual and conjugal consecration. Thus the espousal of Hagar into the life of Abraham, which indeed Sarah, the wife of Abraham, suggests, is explained by the unlimited desire for the heir promised by Jehovah. The fruitless marriage falls into an ideal error which is far above faithlessness or lust, subordinated to the end of the union of the sexes, the attainment of the heir. In this ethical thought we must understand the error of Sarah and Abraham. But then the Lord brings the true sacred marriage of Abraham with Sarah into opposition with the transient sexual union of Abraham with Hagar, when he opposes the consecrated spiritual fruit of the first union, to the wild genial fruit of the last, Isaac to Ishmael. It is remarkable how Jacob under the dialectic form of the Israelitish principles obtains his four wives. He seeks the bride after the choice of his heart. Then was Leah put into the place of his beloved Rachel. Now he wins in Rachel his second wife, his first peculiar elected bride. The idea of the bridal marriage leads him to his second wife. But now enters the still stronger idea of obtaining children. Leah is fruitful, Rachel unfruitful, therefore she will establish her higher claims upon Jacob with the jewels of children. She imitates the example of Sarah and brings to him her own maid Bilhah. Then Leah appeals to the sense of justice in Jacob, and strengthens her side in that she enlarges it through Zilpah. The sin, the error, is here abundantly clear. But we must not overlook the fact that Jacob obtains his four wives under the impelling dialectic force of noble Israelitish motives misunderstood. The first is the pure sacred marriage, the second the theocratic blessing of children. If now, we view the most serious difficulties, the incest of Lot with his daughters, of Judah with his daughter-in-law Tamar, we name as the first explanatory principle element the overlooked facts, that in both cases the morally proscribed union of sexes stands opposed to the most unnatural and revolting crimes. The opposition to the sin of Lot was sodomy, which he shunned with holy horror; in this respect he escaped the judgment, and is a saint. Thus also the act of Judah stands in opposition to the sin of his son Onan (Genesis 38:9). He was punished with death for his, even in a natural sense, abominable misdeed, just as in a similar way the people of Sodom were destroyed. But Judah and Lot live. And even in their error they defend the judgment of the Israelitish spirit over the sodomy and onanism and the like abominable lusts of the heathen world. Moreover, they were ignorant in both cases of the incest which they committed, although the one in drunkenness, and the other in the joyful exultation of the feast of shearing, fell into lewdness. But the females, who in both cases knew of the incest and come into view as the chief figures, did not act from lust, but from fanatical error, under which lay the moral motive of the theocratic desire for children. Lot’s daughters, after the destruction of their home, fell under the delusion that the world, at all events the theocratic race, was in danger of perishing. Tamar plainly fanatically seeks, under the noblest impulse, as a heatheness, the house of Judah, and the promises which were given to him. Hence the unwearied perseverance with which she repeatedly, at last in the boldest form, pushes herself into this family. Finally, we may notice here still the well-known writing of divorcement of Moses. According to the way in which the Romish church, or even the latest legal spirit in the evangelic church, identifies the churchly or consecrated union of the sexes, with the perfect marriage, Moses, in the permission of divorce, comes very nearly into conflict with his own law, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” They say this law, minus the writing of divorce, constitutes marriage. The Bible on the other hand teaches that the theocratic marriage institution rests upon the seventh command, plus the ordinance for writings of divorce, under the permission of separation. That is, Moses knew a higher perfection of marriage than the barely legal and literal, and this he strove to attain, just as the whole Old Testament, with the higher spiritual marriage, strove also after a higher spiritual procreation. Under this spirit and its moral motives, the patriarchal families in succession fell into fanatical errors; but in these errors, the ethical spirit of the whole sexual life is reflected, which corrects the heathen disorderly sexual life, and its low view of the nature of conception. XI The Mosaic System, the Giving of the Law, the Threatening of the Curse, or the Glorification of all the Divine Education of Men, through the Teaching and Leading Power of the Free Religion of the Covenant A very wide-spread prejudice, since the days of Marcion, confounds the Old Testament religion of faith with the Mosaic giving of the law, and then caricatures this law-giving itself, since it regards it as a despotic or dictatorial bending of an unwilling people under absolute statutes, which were strengthened by intolerable curses which should pass over to children and children’s children (see Hegel: Philosophie der Religion, ii. pp. 70 and 74). History and the scripture teach on the contrary: 1. that it is not the Mosaic giving of the law, but the covenant of faith of Abraham with God, which is the foundation of the Old Testament religion (Galatians 3:19); 2. the Mosaic law is not the first thing in the Mosaic system (viewing it as a stage of development of the Abrahamic religion, in its transition as a system of instruction and training to a neglected people), but the Mosaic typical redemption, the miraculous deliverance of Israel out of Egypt (Exodus 20:2); 3. the Mosaic law-giving itself rests upon repeated free communications between Jehovah and his people (Exodus 19:8; Exodus 24:3); 4. the Mosaic commands are not immediate abstract and positive statutes, but are mediate, as religious fundamental commands, through the religious spirit, as moral, through the conscience; 5. transgressions were not visited immediately with the curse, but so far as they were not bold and obstinate, were taken away through an atonement; 6. to the curse which was spoken against the obstinate persistence in sin, stands opposed the superabundant blessings which were promised to the well-behaved Israelite; 7. the Mosaic system, with its own peculiar stages of development, proclaims its own goal, in the prophetic continuation and Messianic completion, and forms in its impelling strength the direct opposition to all laws of an absolute nature. “Moses wrote of Christ.” As to the addition to the second command, which visits the misdeeds of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me (Exodus 20:5), this threatening is opposed by the promise which extends the blessing of the pious to the thousandth of his successors. But in their violent passion over the threatening, these ungracious humanists have overlooked that it is the same law of tragical connection between guilt and the curse, which the tragic poets of Greece, in a much more cruel form, have poetically glorified. Let them first come to an arrangement with the idea of the tragedists, they will then find, that even here the partially fatalistic element of heathen tragedy, is laid aside, while its sad features are glorified. But the Mosaic system generally stands as the system of instruction and preparation for the religion of promise, as it trains an uninstructed people to the culture of Christendom, and hence also as the glorification of all divine systems of preparatory instruction and training. XII The Egyptian Miracles and Plagues, or the Typical Revelation of the Fact, that all the Visitations of God upon the Nations are for the Good of the People and Kingdom of God Hengstenberg has shown in his thorough and learned work (Egypt and the books of Moses, pp. 93–129) that the Egyptian plagues and miracles are not to be regarded as absolute miraculous decrees of God, but as extraordinary divine leadings and judgments, conditioned and introduced through the nature of the land of Egypt. There was a natural foundation for the miracles, for the blood-red color of the Nile, the appearance of the frogs, the plagues of flies, murrain, sores, the hail and thunderstorm, the locusts, the Egyptian darkness (the darkening of the air through the sandstorm), and the death of the first-born (the plague). This connection of natural events in an extraordinary succession, form, and extent, is not obscured but strengthened through their reference to the providence of Jehovah, and the redemption of his people. Rather the dark events of the earth are explained and glorified in the idea of punishments, and the judicial punishment glorifies itself in its purpose and goal to awaken and save. But in this form, the visitations of God upon Israel serve to bring out clearly the final end of all his judicial providence over the individual kingdoms of the world, in their opposition to his church. XIII The Egyptian Treasures, or the Inheritance of the Goods of this World by the Kingdom of God, at the culminating Points of the Redemption of his People In the first place, as to the text, it does not say that the Israelites borrowed the gold and silver jewels of the Egyptians, but that they demanded or by entreaties obtained them,[9] In favor of this may be urged first the expression Schaal (שָׁאַל), which retains the same sense throughout the passage in question (Exodus 3:22; Exodus 11:2; Exodus 12:35). The signification: to ask, demand, entreat, is the prevailing sense of the word. The signification: to borrow, is scarcely ever used. In the usual acceptation, indeed, the Hiphil of the word (וַיַּשְׁאִלוִם), in the sense, they lend to them, would seem to require the corresponding meaning of the Kal: they borrowed the jewels. And Baumgarten in this view calls (i. p. 473) Hengstenberg’s explanation (Authentic, ii. p. 524) very artificial. [10] The word in question, in the month of Hannah (1 Samuel 1:28), cannot well mean: I lend him (the son prayed for) to the Lord for the whole of his life. The Hiphil, in its correspondence with the Kal, to entreat, must still mean to give richly or freely, to grant, especially to encourage the prayer. Moses, moreover, if he had been speaking of borrowing or of theft, would not have announced it so long beforehand, as a prominent event in the freeing of the people (Exodus 3:22); and the attaining of the desire would scarcely be explained by the fact that the people found or should find favor in the eyes of the Egyptians (Exodus 3:21; Exodus 11:3; Exodus 12:36). Thus it can only be an entirely extraordinary asking which is here spoken of, and the expression which records the result can consequently hardly be to steal. The term (נָצַל) points in its various forms rather to a strong and violent snatching than to a stealthy theft. [11] And since in this case it cannot be violence which is spoken of, so the term must express the intellectual ascendency of those who gained the inheritance, a mighty appropriation to themselves. The situation itself is not in favor of lending. The first demand of Moses for Israel was only for a brief journey into the wilderness, for the purpose of holding a feast (Exodus 5:1); but afterward the demand increased in the same measure in which Pharaoh was hardened (Exodus 8:1; Exodus 9:1; Exodus 10:24), But after the judgment upon the first-born there is no need of any supposition that they would return, as indeed it had not been promised before. The Egyptians drove the Israelites out, because they, under the protection of their God, had become a terror to them. The reservation which Pharaoh could perhaps have made, he abandons immediately afterwards, since he pursues the Israelites, makes war upon them, and perishes. We pass in review the different explanations of this passage. The older, extremely positive and favorite explanation, proceeds from the assumption that God suspended in that case the prohibition of theft and deceit. The Apologists do not spend much labor here in the defensive. They have a greater work; they have the glory of this fearful moment to show, in which the despised slaves, the Jews, in the eyes of their proud oppressors, now humbled by God, pass into a people of God, or sons of God, who only need to ask, whether as a favor, or as a loan, or as a demand, for the gold and silver treasures, and they are cast before them as an acknowledgment of homage, a tribute of reverence and fear. Their sons and daughters are loaded and burdened with them. That Moses so long foresaw this moment marks the great prophet; that Israel uses it shows not only his human prudence, but even his sacred right; but that God brings about this result, reveals him as the protector of his people, who will provide for him, after his long sorrows and deprivations, the richest compensation, and at the very foundation of his kingdom appropriates with majesty the gold and silver of the world. Thus before this time Abraham had been blessed among the heathen, thus Jacob by Laban, and thus since the church of Christ, at the time of Constantine, after its victory over the Roman empire; and in like manner the church of the middle ages, after the irruption of the barbarians. But at the end of days all the treasures of the world shall become serviceable to the kingdom of God, and civilization shall be absorbed in worship. XIV Moses the Prophet, and the Prophetic People of God in opposition to the Magicians of Egypt and Balaam, or the Spirit of Magic, and the Prophecy of Heathenism, as it involuntarily does homage to the Spirit of the Kingdom of God, Balaam’s speaking Ass We believe there is good ground for placing the magicians of Egypt in relation with the Aramaic seer Balaam. Just as the history of the magicians (Exodus 7:11 ff.) records the victory of the theocratic prophets over the antagonistic position of realistic wisdom and magic, so the history of Balaam (Numbers 22) proclaims the triumph of the theocratic people over the hostile position of that idealistic wisdom of the world, the worldly prophecy and poesy represented by Balaam. It would be difficult to distinguish accurately between the symbolic and the purely actual elements in the account of the contest of Moses with the Egyptian conjurers. Moses was endowed with miraculous power for this contest, whose sign, in any case, wore a symbolical coloring. Hengstenberg regards it as the central point in the endowment, that he could thus meet and defeat the Egyptian serpent-charmers upon their own field, in the region of their most cultivated magical art, and with higher means at his command.[12] Moses, with his miraculous rod, or staff, works in the three regions of life miracles of punishment and salvation; in the region of elementary nature (changing water into blood, bitter water into sweet); in the region of organic nature (making the rod to become a serpent, and the serpent a rod); in the region of human life (calling forth the leprosy and healing it). He can do this truly only in the service of the Lord, and therefore only in decisive preordained, moments. But then he can do this with an evidence which puts to shame all magical art and worldly culture. Thus gradually, and step by step, the Egyptian conjurers were put to naught before him. The first distinction is, that they could only imitate what Moses did before them; the second, that they could only do upon a small scale what Moses did upon a large; the third, that they could imitate in the destructive miracles, not in those which delivered and saved; the fourth, that they could not imitate the great destructive miracles; the last, that they themselves perished in the destructive miracles of Moses. At the very beginning, their rods were devoured by the terrible rod of Moses, and at the end they stand there without power, they themselves filled with sores, and their first-born given to death. Balaam undoubtedly represents the ideal character of the art and culture of the world;[13] as it places and defines itself, in its common or ordinary life, as in the sphere of its conscious thought or purpose, it opposes the people of God and his kingdom, and especially, by the device of lustful and drinking banquets, it could work great injury to the church of God; and yet must ever, in the sphere of its conscious feeling, in the impetus of its inspiration through the Spirit of the Lord, be carried beyond itself, bless the people of the kingdom, and testify of its salvation and victory. This opposition between the purpose and the inspiration in the spheres of worldly genius and culture is world-historical, not less so than the fact that even the worldly genius in its philosophic systems, with its poetical and artistic culture, prophesies of Christ and blesses his kingdom. But Balaam’s ass is destined to portray the fact, that the ass itself must become a prophet, when the worldly prophet, who rides him, will become an ass. This grand irony, according to which Genius in its fallen state is more blind and dumb than the ass which it rides, according to which the prophet who rides the ass is changed into an ass who rides the prophet, does not stand there as a perplexity to the believer and a sport to the unbeliever. And it is truly the guilt of the apologetic school theology if it falls into distress about the ass of Balaam, when the free-thinkers lustily ride upon it. That the species of the horse, to which the ass, especially the oriental, ass, belongs, is inclined to be timid, and through its fright can draw attention to hidden dangerous circumstances—indeed, that it has an inexplicable power to recognize ghost-like appearances, or even in its way to see spirits, all this is confirmed through the strangest things. More than once has the stumbling of a horse been an evil omen to his rider, and Napoleon played the part of Balaam on the other side of the Niemen. That the voice of an act or event, thus even of the mighty utterance of the animal soul, may become, in the plastic forming impulse of a visionary genius, a miracle of vision, and most easily the Bath Kol, the voice, this needs no detailed explanation.[14] But that, finally, repeated terrors of conscience may awaken the inward life of the spirit and preserve it watchful, for the reception of the higher and clearer manifestations of the Spirit, thus in the prophetic region, even for angelic appearances, this experience teaches. Balaam’s, ass is no subject for ridicule; least of all in a time when the nobler animals have a sensorium more open to the signs of the invisible world than materialistic geniuses, whom the hostility to Christianity has raised to temporary honor. The Spirit of God has made this ass to be a standing irony upon the thoughtlessness (to speak euphemistically) of the knights of free-thought, as they go upon the expedition to destroy Christianity.[15] XV The Arresting of the Sun by Joshua (Joshua 10) We will not speak here of the great exegetical history of this place. The papal chair, which esteems fish not to be flesh, and once rejected the doctrine of the antipodes (according to which all the Jesuit missions in America rested upon a flagrant heresy), compelled, it is well known, the philosopher Galileo to forswear the theory, that the earth rolls round the sun. Modern Catholic theologians hold a modification of the old view, that Joshua arrested the earth in its course. The spiritual primate of Ireland (Cullen), however, has returned to the orthodox view, and quite recently some Protestant voices are heard, which even in this point will recall “the good old time.”[16] The presupposition, of the established exegesis is the hermeneutical principle that the Bible throughout uses language in the same way only, in which it is used in ordinary records. In that case the symbolical contents of the record will be denied. It will be emptied of its true religious, indeed historical character. Thus here the peculiar triumphant feeling of Joshua will be entirely mistaken, since in that case they only find the thought that he, through an unheard-of astronomical and mechanical miracle, had arrested the rolling sun (or the rolling earth, as the case may be) for about a day (v. 13). They thus gain perhaps what they cannot use, indeed wherewith they are in the deepest trouble; while on the contrary they lose the glorious typical event, which brings out into bold relief the fact, that all nature, heaven, and earth, are in covenant with the people of God, and ever aid them to victory in the wars of his kingdom. Although we do not share the view of those interpreters who think that we are only dealing here with a poetical and symbolical style of expression (which the papal exegesis could not use), which, in the sun of Gibeon and the moon of Ajalon, glorifies the sunniest and through midnight protracted, brightest day of victory, we would not deny the relation of the text to a song of victory. It has been overlooked perhaps, that in our history the storm of hail which terrifies and follows the hostile Amorites, is placed significantly over against the sun and moon of Joshua, which give light to the people of Israel. When the theocratic hero and conqueror, in the view of such a terrible storm of hail, on the part of heaven, utters the prophecy: we shall have the clearest sunshine upon our line of battle, and at the evening the light of the moon, that is a peculiar miracle, which is closely joined as to its stamp and character with the great Mosaic miracles of victory.[17] XVI The Old Testament Theocratic Miracles of Salvation, as parallel Miracles, or as extraordinary Phenomena of Nature, which the Spirit of Prophecy recognizes, announces and uses as Saving Ordinances of God, and in which it proclaims the Truth, that the miraculous points in the Earth’s Development, from the Flood on to the Final Grand Catastrophe at the End of the World, runs parallel with the Development of the Kingdom of God in its Great Eventful Moments, and promotes its Salvation and Glorification That I may not unduly enlarge this essay, I remark that the above paragraph, while it may be regarded as clearly intelligible in the outline given, finds its detailed explanation in the work of the author upon miracles (Leben Jesu, 2 Bd.). In some particular Old Testament miraculous deeds, the signs of the New Testament miracles appear, i. e., the signs of the absolute victory of the theanthropic spirit over the human, natural world. XVII The Destruction of the Canaanitish People This must be viewed as the symbol of the continuous destruction of malefactors in the Christian state. They were destroyed so far as they, as Canaanites, that is here as the servants of Moloch, claimed the holy land, and would live under the establishment, or in defiance of the establishment of Israel. Two ways of escape were opened to them: the way of flight from the land, or the way of conversion to the Faith of Israel. The cunning of the Gibeonites found a third way (Joshua 9). XVIII The Ascension of Elijah in a Chariot of Fire, as the culminating Point of the consistent Development of the Mosaic Law The consistent unfolding of the Mosaic law, in its judicial punitive righteousness, is completed in the form of the prophet Elijah. Hence the punitive miracle is the prevailing type of his work. He punishes the people of Israel for its apostasy, with a three-years’ drought and famine, he slays the priests of Baal, announces to the house of Ahab its destruction, and calls down fire from heaven upon the two captains of Ahaziah with their companies. In this consistent unfolding of the prophetic judicial procedure, he is on the way to the final calling of the fires of the judgment upon the corrupt of the world. The third captain of fifty, sent by the king of Israel to bring the prophet, weeps and clings to his knees praying for mercy, and Elijah feels that he must arrest the judgment. But therewith he has the presentiment that he is about to leave the earth. He can no more endure the earth, nor the earth bear him, and the fiery spirit is borne to heaven in a storm of fire. The first persecution by Ahab drove him into the loneliness of the heathen world, the second by Jezebel, when she threatened him with death, drove him to Horeb, the cradle of the law, where he would willingly have died. In his fiery triumph over the officers of the third persecution, he appears already as a lofty Cherub with a flaming sword, who sends down from the mountain the fiery judgments of heaven. And still this is only the consistent fulfilling of his true Mosaic office. He has a tolerant heart, otherwise he could not have dwelt with a heathen widow and among a people that had given to his land the corrupt princess Jezebel as queen; a loving heart, as is shown in his miraculous raising of the dead, a heart opened for the presentiments of the gospel, which appears in his trembling and awe at the still small voice, in the feeling that Jehovah was now to appear, which he had not experienced in the storm, and earthquake, and fire; a merciful heart, and therefore he pauses in the midst of his fiery judgments and takes his departure from the earth. But the Lord prepares for him a worthy end, when he permits him to vanish from the earth in a fiery sign from heaven. We cannot so paint this history for ourselves as that school which speaks even of the hoofs of these fiery horses. Had the friends of Elijah seen the hoofs of the horses, they would surely not have sent fifty men for three days to search for the vanished prophet. But just as little are we to understand the narrative as a mere description of a disappearance in some peculiar storm. If we see, in this grand moment, a kind of end of the world, we shall also recognize in this chariot of fire the mystery of a primitive original phenomenon.[18] The opposition between Elijah and Elisha marks the turning point in the history of Israel, with which the judicial office and rank of the law retires into the back ground, and the providence of mercy comes into relief, out of which the prophecy of salvation unfolds itself. Elisha inherits a double portion of the spirit of Elijah, and this appears clearly, since he with his miracles of healing and salvation (in opposition, to the punitive miracles of Elijah) forms the type of the coming gospel. The punitive miracle indeed still appears in his life, but the essential and determining character of his work, forms a circle of helping, healing, and delivering miracles. Elijah enters the history as a glorified Moses, Elisha as the type of the Christ to come. XIX The Types of the New Testament Miracles, and of the Victory of the New Testament Spirit, Book of Daniel There appears very early in the Old Testament a definite kind of helping and saving miracles, which grows more distinct in the life of Elisha, and reaches its highest culture and perfection in the book of Daniel. Elisha appears as one who raises from the dead, in a greatly higher measure than Elijah; even his grave restores the corpse to life. He heals the fountains of bitter waters with salt, and the poisonous meal in the pot, makes the waters of Jordan a healing bath to Naaman the Syrian, raises the lost axe from the bottom of Jordan in a miraculous way, proves himself a spiritual reprover and saviour of Israel, triumphs over the hostile hosts who were besieging him, by the help of the hosts of the Lord, and sends away his enemies who fell into his hands, with mercy, to their homes. In the miracles of the book of Daniel, which bear more distinctly the character of the New Testament miracles, because they are the victorious miracles of suffering, the New Testament time, the victory of the kingdom of Christ over the monarchies of the world, is dearly announced. The three men in the fiery furnace, especially, proclaim with the greatest clearness, and in the grandest symbolism, the victory of the Christian martyrdom. Footnotes: [1]Taken from the author’s article in the German Journal for Christian Science and Christian Life for 1857. [2]When Delitzsch (Gen. p. 42) opposes to the view of Kurtz, that the account of the creation is the result of a circle of visions, looking backwards, the assertion, that it is an historical tradition, flowing from divine instruction, the questian still remains open, by what means that instruction was made available to man. We, with Delitzsch, are here opposed to the vision. For in the vision there is a voluntary subjective state, wishing to see, when there should be only a subjectivity or possibility of sight. [3][Baumgarten indeed still holds to the ordinary days (Com. upon the Pentateuch i. 14). “The word day (יוֹם) is primarily day and not period, and here this word is used for the first time.” But we say that just for this very reason the word day must here designate a period. The ordinary day of the earth is not the original form of the day, but the day of God, the day of heaven. Thus even the light precedes the light-bearers. How endlessly diversified are the days in the universe! But the original form is the day of God. Compare also Delitzsch, Genesis, p. 61.—[But also Keil, in his Commentary upon Genesis.—A. G.] [4]Delitzsch says of Nimrod (p. 223), “through his name נמרד (from מרד, to rise up, disturb), he represents the revolution, in his dominion the despotism. These two extremes, the monarchical state has never been able to remove, from its impure beginning onwards.” What he says, however, avails only in its full sense of the great world monarchies. [5]The here rejected explanation may certainly be received where the Hithpael of בדך is used. (Ch. 21:18; 26:4.) [6]Hengstenberg: Beiträge, 3d vol. The moral and religious life of the period of the judges, especially on Jephthah’s vow, p. 127 ff. [7]Delitzsch follows the traditionary view of the schools, and is not inclined to fall in with the modern churchly correction of that view (p. 300). The objection of Kurtz is answered in the places quoted below. [8]For the untenableness of the ordinary view I refer to Hengstenberg: Beiträge; Lange: Positive Dogmatik, p. 518. Compare also the legal Catholic Church, p. 60. [9]Compare Hengstenberg: Authenticity of the Pentateuch, 2 vol. p. 507. [10]“The verb (שׁאל), to desire, can only be in Hiphil to cause another to desire. It designates then a freely offered gifts, in opposition to one which is given only from outward constraint, or only from shameless begging. Whoever freely gives thereby invites the other to ask; he cannot ask too much, not enough indeed.” This is surely in perfect accordance with the spirit of the language, if the Hiphil is explained according to the Kal. Baumgarten and the traditional exposition explain the Kal after an hypothetical Hiphil. [11]Hengstenberg, p. 525. [12]The books of Moses, p. 71. [13]Especially the wisdom of the Chaldees upon the Euphrates, see Baumgarten, ii. p. 349. [14]We may not here think of a barely inward event. The ways however, in which Baumgarten, ii. p. 359, defends the outward speaking of the ass against Hengstenberg, appears to us without weight or importance. If it is allowed to the prophet to speak in his own dialect, then surely it may be to the ass. [15][Hengstenberg holds that there is a real miracle, but that it is inward in the mind or vision of the prophet, not outward in the ass. He defends his view—which is connected with a general theory as to the nature of prophecy or the state of the prophets—with great ingenuity and ability. But there are serious and insuperable objections to it. But even this view is preferable to that given above. Dr. Lange comes down here from the high vantage ground from which he has discussed so ably the previously stated difficulties, and stands very nearly upon a level with those who merely seek to explain the miracle. If there is nothing more here than the naturally timid disposition of the animal, and the working of a plastic fancy or genius upon the braying of the frightened and refractory ass, leading the prophet to imagine that he sees spirits or angels, and awakening his moral and spiritual powers, then the whole narrative is easily explained, but then the miracle is lost. It is vastly better to hold that the record narrates the fact literally, Nor is there anything improbable in such a miracle, that the ass should really use the words of men, if we regard the circumstances of the case, and the ends which were designed to be reached. It is a fitting way to rebuke this prophet, and who had yielded himself to the blindness and brutality of his sin, that the ignorant brute should reprove him. And the event thus viewed, stands, as Lange shows, only with far greater significance and force than it can have upon his theory, as a perpetual rebuke to those who, with like hatred to the people of God, and with similar blindness, under the brutalizing power of sin, carry on their warfare against Christianity. Those who would see this record vindicated, and its real significance brought out fully, may consult Baumgarten : Commentary.—A. G.] [16]For the different explanations compare Winer, Article Joshua. [17][The great Mosaic miracles were wrought indeed in connection with natural agencies or forces, but were none the less real miracles. The fact, that the storm was miraculous, does not meet the demands of the narrative of the arresting of the sun and moon. There are great difficulties, unquestionably, involved in such a miracle as this, but difficulties are not a matter of great weight, to any one who admits the miracle at all, and when therefore the question is merely one of the power of God. Keil, who holds strongly that if the passage in question is to be taken as a part of the historical narrative, we are not to be troubled by the difficulties supposed, contends with great ability, and as a mere exegetical question, that the passage must be regarded as a quotation from the poetical book of Jasher, which is introduced into the narrative, not as a historical statement, but as a poetical description of the great victory. See Keil : The book of Joshua. If, however, we may take the passage as historical, and then of course hold to the literal miracle, that the earth was stayed in its course by the hand of God, how grandly it brings out the fact, as Lange states it. “that heaven and earth are in connection with the people of kingdom.”—A.G.] [18][That is, perhaps, the mystery of the ideal death or of the mode of transition to the higher life. See pp. 75, 76—A. G.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 5: 01.4. THEOLOGICAL AND HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO NT ======================================================================== THEOLOGICAL AND HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT § 1. Theology in general, or the scientific knowledge of the Christian religion, may, according to its historical and scientific character, be arranged under two great divisions,—Historical, and Theoretical or Systematic Theology, taking these terms in their widest sense. (I.) Historical Theology may again be ranged under the following three sections:—(1) The History of Revelation, or of the Kingdom of God, which forms the basis of the whole system; (2) The History of the Records of Revelation, or Exegetics in the wider sense; (3) The History of Revealed Religion, or Church History. (II.) In the same manner, Theoretical or Systematic Theology may be divided into three sections:—(1) The System of Christian Doctrines, or Dogmatics; (2) The System of Christian Morals, or Ethics; (3) The System of Christian Polity, or Practical Theology. § 2. From this analysis we infer that the materials from which to construct a theological and homiletical Introduction to the Sacred Scriptures, must be derived from the elements of the history of revelation, of exegesis, and church history, as well as from the elements of dogmatics, ethics, and practical theology, always with special reference to the practical, homiletical, and pastoral point of view. § 3. Before proceeding with our special Introduction to the New Testament, we must premise, in brief outline, a General Introduction to the Scriptures. The special introduction to the Old Testament may be left for another occasion,25 not merely because our present task is connected with the New Testament, but because, as Christians, we proceed, theoretically, from the New Testament to the Old, and not vice versa. It is sufficient for our purpose to communicate, in briefest form, the results obtained by modern research, and to indicate the works which may aid the reader in reviewing these results for himself. § 4. Accordingly, we shall have to preface the N. T. portion of our Commentary,—(1) by a General Introduction from the theological and homiletical point of view; (2) by a Historical and Exegetical Introduction to the New Testament in general, and to its various parts; (3) by a General Homiletical and Pastoral Introduction; (4) by a Homiletical and Pastoral Introduction to the New Testament. FIRST SECTION GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE HOLY SCRIPTURES _____________ § 1 THE HISTORY OF REVELATION, OR OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD The History of the Kingdom of God must not be confounded with Biblical History. The latter, like Biblical Theology, forms part of Exegesis, while the History of the Kingdom of God embraces the whole history of the world viewed from the Christian stand-point. The kingdom of God is that new creation in which God reveals Himself in His character as Redeemer. It is based upon the universal and absolute dominion of God over the world, and results from it; and it consists in the restoration of the dominion of the Spirit of God over the hearts of men, brought about by Christ, who is the heart of the race. As mankind was originally destined to form the kingdom of God, and for that purpose was arranged into one family, the kingdom of God may also be viewed as the restoration of mankind to one body under the One and Eternal Head (Acts 3:21; Ephesians 1:22), in whom it was elected from all eternity, and called, for the harmonious manifestation of the glory of God (Ephesians 1:4-5). The restoration of this kingdom presupposes the existence of an opposite pseudo-kingdom, in which the human family were scattered and dispersed by sin—a kingdom of darkness and of falsehood, the kingdom of Satan. Accordingly, the history of the preparation, foundation, and completion of the kingdom of God, is at the same time the history of its hostile conflicts with the antagonistic kingdom of darkness. The kingdom of God disappeared from earth through the working of unbelief, by which the Lord was robbed of His dominion over the heart. Similarly has it again been restored to the world by the combined operation of the grace of God, and of a spiritual faith which He has planted in the heart of His elect, and which ultimately appeared in all its fulness and perfectness, as conquering the world, in Christ, the Elect One. This salvation of the world is destined gradually to spread till it pervades all mankind. Hence the extension of the kingdom of God to its final completion in the world will occupy the entire course of time, even as this kingdom is destined to cover all space in the world. Viewed in this light, the whole history of the world itself is simply the history of the restoration and transformation of the world into the kingdom of God. Thus, all history may be included under the idea of the βασιλεία τοῦ Θεοῦ. But its innermost centre is that manifestation of God’s redeeming grace, by which, on the basis of His general revelation to man, He has founded His kingdom. The all-comprehensive medium of God’s revelation was His personal incarnation in Christ. Throughout the entire course of history, we perceive how mankind, in ever-narrowing circles, tends towards this manifestation of the God-Man. Again, after He has appeared, we notice how, in ever-widening circles, it tends towards the final goal—to present all mankind as born of God. Christ, then, is the beginning, the middle, and the end of all revelation. But as revelation is ever love, light, and life, it embodies at the same time both saving truth and saving reality, or revelation in the narrower sense, and actual redemption Hence it is that in Christ we have not only the completion of revelation, but also complete redemption. Redemption, in all its phases and stages, is prepared and introduced by judgments, which, by the grace of God, are, however, converted into so many deliverances. Again, every new stage in the unfolding and history of salvation is marked by a fresh extension and establishment of the kingdom of God, appearing as the Church of the redeemed. Hence, while the real kingdom of God was founded when redemption was first introduced, it shall be perfected when the benefits of redemption shall have been extended to the utmost boundaries of the world. This is the Development of Revelation, to which we now proceed. I. General Revelation a) Widest circle (revelation by Symbolical signs, which ultimately point of the Word). 1. Objectively: creation (Romans 1:20) 2. Subjectively: the human mind, especially the conscience (Romans 2:14-15). b) Narrower circle (revelation by facts). 1. Objectively: history (Psalms 2, 110). 2. Subjectively: the dealings of God with individuals (Psalms 104; Psalms 139:16) II. Special Revelation, or Revelation of Salvation (by the Word, accompanied by Symbolical Signs) a) Revelation during the course of its progress. 1. Objectively: the Old Covenant (Genesis 12. etc.) 2. Subjectively: faith (Genesis 15:6). b) Revelation completed. 1. Objectively: the New Covenant (Luke 22:20; John 13:34) 2. Subjectively: justifying faith, in its New Testament sense (Romans 5:1; 1 Peter 3:21). So far as we are concerned, it is by subjective revelation that we become partakers of objective revelation, even as it is only by the revelation of salvation that we come to understand and see general revelation. The various cycles of revelation are clearly perceived only when viewed in the light of justifying and saving faith, which sheds upon each of them a new and glorious lustre. The following are the various periods of historical revelation in parallel review:— The Old Testament in the wider sense of the term: The New Testament in the wider sense of the term: 1. Primeval religion, unto Abraham, 2000 b. c. 1. Gospel history, and the Apostolic Age. 2. Patriarchal faith in the promise, unto 1500 b. c. 2. The ancient Catholic Church. The Fathers. 3. The period of the Law, unto 800 b. c. 3. The legal Church of the Middle Ages. [The Popes.—P. S.] 4. The period of the Prophets, unto 400 b. c. 4. The Protestant Churches. [The Reformers.—P. S.] 5. The period of national religiousness (the Maccabees). 5. Union into one evangelical Church in its progress. 6. Concentration of religious longing in the ancient world as the cradle of the Messiah. The Blessed Virgin. 6. The Bride of Christ, or the Church in the last days awaiting His coming. 7. The first coming of Christ. 7. The last coming of Christ. His manifestation in glory. The manifestation of salvation, as it constitutes the great moving force of all history, draws the course of the latter into the whole of the history of the kingdom of God. The history of the βασιλεία τοῦ Θεοῦ may be divided into that of the Kingdom of God in its legal and typical form, or the Theocracy (a term formed by Josephus, Contra Apion. ii. 16), and that of the real Kingdom of God in spirit and in truth—the βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν,—or into the Pre-Christian and the Christian (not Post-Christian) Era. I. History of the Theocracy, or of the Pre-Christian Era 1. Primeval times, the type of the entire history of the world to the great judgment—till the Flood—and the new formation of the (Noachic) race. 2. The dispersion of nations and the calling of Abraham; or, origin of the contrast between Heathenism and Judaism (preparation for the Theocracy), or between passive and active religiousness (the religions of nature, and that of revelation). a) The table of nations in Genesis, and the mythologies of the Gentiles. a) Promise of the holy people. b) Separation between the civilized nations of antiquity and barbarous tribes (Heathenism in its ascending and in its descending line. See Romans 2). b) Separation between Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau. Difference among the sons of Israel (Judaism in its ascending and in its descending line. Romans 2, 10). 3. Establishment of the great contrast; or, the Empires of the world as the central points of civilization, and the foundation and history of the Theocracy in the narrower sense. Antagonism and mutual influence. a) Great Empires of the world in their origin and growth. Egypt, Assyria, Phœnicia, etc. a) The Theocracy in its origin. Antagonism and mutual influence between Israel, and Egypt, Canaan, Syria, Phœnicia, and Assyria. b) The great Empires of the world fully developed.—Daniel 2 Vision of the image of the various monarchies. Its bright aspect: Union. Daniel 7. Vision of the four beasts. Its dark aspect: Division. b) The Theocracy in its full typical manifestation. Antagonism and mutual influence between Israel and the four Empires. α) The Babylonian Empire. α) Period of the Judges and Prophets, from Moses to David. β) The Persian Empire. β) Period of the Kings, from David to the Babylonian Exile. γ) The Macedonian Empire. γ) Period of the Priests (blooming period under the Maccabees). δ) The Roman Empire. δ) Close of the typical and commencement of the real kingdom of God. 4. Removal of the great contrast and antagonism. Gentiles settle in Palestine; the Jews of the Diaspora. Cessation of the typical, and preparation of the real Theocracy. (Heathen power and heathen culture. Oppression of the Jews and prophecies.) a) The Cuthæans settled in Samaria, and becoming Samaritans. a) The ten tribes carried to Assyria beyond the Euphrates. b) The Aramæan language and Sadducean notions introduced into Palestine on the return from Babylon. b) Many of the Jews remaining in Babylon. c) The Decapolis in Galilee of the Gentiles, founded chiefly by the veterans of Alexander the Great. c) Jewish colonies in Alexandria, Libya, Syria, and Asia Minor. The Septuagint. d) The Herodians. Introduction of Grecian and Roman manners in Palestine. (The Proselytes.) d) The Jewish Diaspora in Rome and through-out the West, since the time of Pompey and Cæsar. (The Essenes.) e) Rule of the heathen, of Christians, and of Mohammedans in Palestine. e) Destruction of Jerusalem, and dispersion on the people throughout the world. 5. The first coming of Christ. Close of the first, and commencement of the second era. Redemption of the world. II. History of the Kingdom of God in its Fulness, or of the Kingdom of Heaven in the World 1. Primeval Christianity, the type of all Church History 2. Appearance of the antagonism between the Christian Church and the Jewish and heathen world. a) The Talmud, and heathen calumnies against Christianity. a) The ancient Catholic Church and the martyrs. b) Judaism in its unhistorical ossification. (Analogy with the partial barbarism of the original races.) b) Separation between the Church and heretical sects. 3. Establishment of this antagonism; or, the Christian Empires, and the establishment of the Church in the narrower sense. Hostility and mutual influences. Mediæval Legalism a symbol and type of the future. a) Movement in the heathen world. a) The worldly Church of Constantine the Great. Missions. b) Secularization of the Church. b) The Monastic Church. c) Migration of the nations into the Church, and the great baptism of water. c) The Theocratic legalistic Church. d) The Eastern Church, or orthodoxy secularized. d) The Roman Church. e) Mohammedanism, or heresy completed. e) Western Catholic Christendom. The Crusades. f) The Western Papacy. f) Protestant parties and movements during the Middle Ages. Humanism. Popular literature. g) The Catholic Roman Empire. The antievangelical powers. Machiavellianism. g) Evangelical Christendom. Germ of the true Church and the true State. 4. Removal of the antagonism, and appearance of the true Church and the true State. a) The Roman Catholic world. a) The Church of the Reformation (harmonious difference between Church and State). b) The reformatory movements in the Roman Catholic Church. b) Romanizing divisions of the Evangelical Church. c) The dissolving elements of Jesuitical Monasticism, Mysticism, political influences, and the advance of civilization in Romish Churches and countries, under the form of reaction. c) Awakenings and union among Protestants. d) Revolutions in the Roman Catholic world. d) Protestant Reforms. e) The world in all forms of intellectual heathenism acting upon the Church. e) Christian missions acting upon all parts of the world. f) Humanism as leaven in the Roman Catholic and in Romanizing Churches. f) The authority of Christ appearing in all departments of life. The Bible the book of nations. 5. The future of Christendom. a) Apostasy in the alliance between Absolutism and Antichrist. a) Victory in the union of believers under the banner of Christ. b) Judgment upon the apparent completion of Hierarchism and Secularism. b) Redemption of the visible Church of Christ *is its apparent destruction. Manifestation of the Bride, and advent of the Bridegroom. LITERATURE In a certain sense, every branch of literature may be regarded as auxiliary to the study of the history of the kingdom of God. More particularly, however, we include here those works on universal history which are written from a general or a religious point of view, and works on the philosophy of history. It is scarcely necessary to add, that we would also direct special attention to historical books written in a Christian spirit, and to those which treat expressly of the history of the kingdom of God. I. General Works26 On Chronology:—Gatterer (1777), Ideler (1825–26), Brinkmeier (1843). On General History:—Herder, Fred. Schlegel (R. C.), and Hegel, on the Philosophy of History. Eyth: History from the Christian stand-point (1853). Ehrenfeuchter: The Histor. Development of Mankind (Heidelb. 1855). Bräm, Barth, Lisco, Theremin, Grundtwig, Zahn, Kalkar, Ziegler, Kurtz, on Sacred History. Bunsen: God in History (Part I. Leipz., 1857). Leo (Romanizing), and Dittmar: History of the World before and since Christ. [R. Turnbull: Christ in History. Boston, 1854.—P. S.] II. On Particular Periods and Branches 1. History of Creation.—Schubert, Wagner, Pfaff, Burmeister (negative), Rougemont. Humboldt: Kosmos. Kurtz: Bible and Astronomy (Germ. and English). [Hugh Miller: Testimony of the Rocks, or Geology in its bearings on the two theologies, natural and revealed. Edinb. and Boston, 1859. Tayler Lewis: The Six Days of Creation, or the Scriptural Cosmology. New York and London, 1855.—P. S.] 2. The Flood.—Lücken, Stolberg (Hist. of Religion, Germ., vol. i. App.), Buttmann, Bopp (Die Sündfluth, Berlin, 1829), Rud. Wagner (Naturgeschichte des Menschen, 1838), Schubert (Das Weltgebäude, Erlangen, 1852). 3. The Division of Nations and the Genealogical Table. Heathenism.—Feldhoff (Die Völkertafel der Genesis, 1837), Knobel (ditto, 1850). [Tuch, Delitzsch, Bush, on Genesis, ch. x.—P. S.] Creuzer, Baur, Stuhr, Wuttke, on Ancient Mythology and the heathen religions. G. Seibert: Griechenthum und Christenthum, 1857. Döllinger (R. C.): Heidenthum und Judenthum—Vorhalle des Christenthums, 1857. [A very learned and instructive work, also translated into English.—P. S.] Schelling: Philosophy of Mythology. 4. History of Israel.—Hess, Jost (a liberal Jew), Bertheau, Ewald, [Milman, Stanley] on the history of the Jews.—Comp. Josephus on the Jewish war. 5. Fulfilment of Prophecies.—Keith, O. Strauss (Niniveh and the Word of God, 1855), Layard (Nineveh and Babylon). 6. The Life of Christ.—Works of Hase, Neander, Lange, Ewald, Lichtenstein, Friedlieb, Bucher, [Sepp, Kuhn, Ellicott, Andrews, on the Life of Christ; also Ullmann, Young, Bushnell, Schaff, Dorner, on he Character and sinless Perfection of Jesus.—P. S.] 7. The Apostolic Age.—Neander, J. P. Lange (Leipz., 1853), P. Schaff (2d ed., Leipz., 1854, German and English), Thiersch, Trautmann, Lechler, in the Apostolic Age. Mosheim, Baur, Hagenbach and Schaff, on the Church in the first three centuries. 8. Church History.—See Liter. in Hagenbach’s Theol. Encyclop., p. 220, and in Schaff’s Hist. of the Apost. Church, Gen. Introd., ch. iv. On the moral effects of Christianity: Tzschirner, on the Down-fall of heathenism (German), Chaste, Beugnot, on the same subject (French), C. Schmidt: Essai historique sur la société civile dans le monde romain, et sur sa transformation par le Christianisme, [comp. an able review of the latter work, by Dr. Sears, in the Bibliotheca Sacra for April, 1863.—P. S.] 9. Post-Christian Judaism.—Friedländer, Grätz, Beer, M‘Caul, Jost, [Edersheim,] on later Jewish history. 10. Mohammedanism.—G. Weil: Mohammed, his Life and Doctrine (German). Stuttgart, 1343. Döllinger: Mohammed’s Religion. München, 1838. W. Irving: Life of Mohammed. Gerok: Christology of the Koran (German). Gotha, 1839. German translations of the Koran, by Boysen, Wahl, Geiger, Ullmann. [Engl. trsl. with notes, by J. M. Rodwell. London, 1861.—P. S.] 11. History of Civilization.—A very extensive literature. General works on the subject by Gruber, Kolb, Wachsmuth (Leipz. 1850), Guizot [Balmez.] History of Philosophy by Brucker, Tennemann, Reinhold, Rixner, Ritter, Hegel, Sigwart, Schwegler; and on special sections of the hist. of Philos.: Brandis, Erdmann, Chalybäus [Zeller, Morell, A. Butler, Maurice.—P. S.] History of Art by Kugler, Schnaase, Otte, Springer, Piper, etc. History of Literature by Eichhorn, Wachler, Bouterweck, Schlegel, [Grässe, Brunet, Allibone, etc.] History of Law and Jurisprudence by Eichhorn, Walter, Philipps, Grimm, Savigny. 12. History of Missions.—Blumhardt: Gen. Hist. of Missions in the Christ. Church. Basel, 1828–1837, 3 vols. G. Schmidt: Victory of Christianity, etc. (German). Leipz., 1857, 3d ed. Steger:Protest. Missions, 1838. W. Hoffmann: Missions-Stunden, and other writings. Wallmann: The Missions of the Evangel. Churches (German), 1849. [Harvey Newcomb: Cyclopedia of Missions (700 pages). New York, 1854. The Memorial Volume of the first Fifty Years of the Amer. Board of Com. for Foreign Missions. Boston, 1861.—P. S.] The periodical reports and publications of Missionary societies in Europe and America. On Inner missions see the works of Wichern, März, [and the reports of the German Church Diet and Congress for Inner Missions, since 1848.—P. S.] § 2 THE HOLY SCRIPTURES I. Auxiliary Sciences Among the auxiliary sciences of exegesis we include all those which serve to prepare us for the study of Scripture. To this class belongs the study of antiquities, and that of ancient languages, generally; and, more particularly, that of criticism and of hermeneutics. The direct auxiliaries to the study of the Scriptures are, so far as the text itself is concerned, biblical antiquities and the sacred languages; and, so far as regards the present form of the text, biblical criticism and hermeneutics. These two sciences consist in the knowledge how scientifically to examine and to ascertain the genuineness of the records of Scripture and of the text, and in acquaintanceship with the fundamental principles of biblical interpretation. 1. Biblical Archæology in general.—Comp. Hagenbach, Theol. Encyclop., p. 132. Among works on this subject we name those by Warnekros, Rosenmüller, Jahn, de Wette, Ewald, Scholz, Saalschütz, the Real-Wörterbuch of Winer (indispensable), and other Encyclopædias of Biblical Literature. Various branches of biblical Archœology. a) Ethnology.—The descendants of Shem. The Hebrews. The Jews. The nations of Canaan. The nations surrounding Israel. Comp. the Archæological works of Bellermann, Rosenmüller, Winer, Movers (on the Phœnicians), [Layard, Rawlinson, and Niebuhr on the Assyrians.] b) Geography.—Palestine and the other countries mentioned in the Bible. Travels. Topographical works. Maps. Comp. especially Crome, von Raumer, Robinson (Researches, Engl. and Germ.), Strauss (Sinai und Golgatha), Krafft (Topography of Jerusalem), Schulz (Jerusalem), Tobler; the Travels of Berggren, Schubert, Robinson, Wilson, Van de Velde, Schulz, Tischendorf, [Stanley, Hackett, Thomson, Bausman,] etc. c) Natural Science.—Bochart’s Hierozoicon. d) Chronology.—Comp. as above, p. 6. e) Civilization.—Agriculture. Pastoral life. Dwellings. Furniture. Trades. Domestic life. Social life (Poetry and Music). Government. Theocracy. See Michaelis, The Laws of Moses; Herder and Saalschütz (on Hebrew Poetry); [the various commentaries of Ewald, Hupfeld, Umbreit, Hengstenberg, Delitzsch, Alexander, etc., etc., on the Psalms and other poetical books of the O. T.—P. S.] f) Religion.—On the typology of the Old Testament services, comp. the works of Bähr (Symbolik des Mos. Cultus, 2 vols. 1837), Kurtz, Hengstenberg, Keil, [and Fairbairn, Typology of Scriptures, Edinb. and Philad., 1857.] 2. The Languages of Scripture.—Philologia sacra. See Hagenbach, p. 123, and the manuals quoted below. 3. Biblical Criticism.—Unhappily, we are still without any accurately defined canon of criticism, especially of biblical criticism. Hence, when biblical criticism appears in so many instances to be self-contradictory and self-destructive, this must be ascribed not merely to Rationalism, but also to the want of well-ascertained scientific principles. The two great points which must be kept in view in criticism are, the authenticity of the text, and its integrity. On the character and literature of biblical criticism, see Hagenbach, p. 146.—Fundamental principles: (1) The place of criticism is not above the subject, as looking down upon it, but in juxtaposition to, and in living contact with it. (2) In criticism we must progress from the general to the particular, in order to be always sure that we are treating of the same subject; while, on the other hand, we must also pass from the particular to the general, in order thereby to make sure of the reality and actuality of the subject. (3) The standard which we apply to a subject must be commensurate to it. Thus historical facts cannot be judged of by the physical standard applied to them by Pantheism and by Fatalism. Mythological ideas are altogether inapplicable to the elucidation of the Scriptures. The Old Testament standard is insufficient for the criticism of the Gospel history. (4) The critic must first have settled his general principles before he can arrive at any conclusion as to the special results of these principles. Above all, therefore, he must be quite clear about the personality of God and of the God-Man. (5) Criticism must ever recognize it that all history has a deep religious bearing, symbolical of the great fact that all history has an ideal object, and that this grand idea is evolved in the course of history. (6) The critic must bear in mind that one grand idea pervades and connects the various portions of Scripture, while he at the same time keeps in view the gradual development of Scripture, its various periods, and the special form which each separate portion has taken, according to the individuality of the writer. (7) Criticism must be able to distinguish between agreement in spirit, and agreement in the letter merely. (8) The criticism of the witnesses themselves must precede the criticism of what they witnessed. (9) The various records of Scripture must be classified according to their relation to the character and object of those who bore the record. (10) The great fact that the Word has become flesh—i. e., that the idea has become history—must be laid down as the fundamental principle of all criticism. This presupposition raises the critic above all false presuppositions. See Lange, Leben Jesu, i. 108; Posit. Dogm., p. 605. On the history of criticism, see Hagenbach, Theol. Encyclop., p. 157, sqq. 4. Biblical Hermeneutics.—This is the science of the right understanding and the right interpretation of Holy Writ. For further explanation, and for the literature of the subject, see Hagenbach, p. 162. Among modern writers on hermeneutics, we mention Lücke, Clausen, Schleiermacher, Lutz, and the writer of the article Hermeneutics in Herzog’s (German) Real-Encycl.; [also Cellerier: Manuel d’Hermeneutique, Geneva, 1852; Fairbairn: Hermeneutical Manual, Philad. 1859.—P. S.] For the history of scriptural interpretation, and of its principles, we refer to the work of G. W. Meyer (Hist. of Exegesis since the revival of Letters (Gött., 1802–1808, 5 vols.). On the allegorical exegesis of the Middle Ages, see Elster: De medii œvi theologia exegetica, Gött., 1855. The following are the essential conditions in hermeneutics: a. For the right understanding (1) Inward condition of interpretation: homogeneousness of spirit with the writer and his subject. (2) Outward condition: familiarity with the languages, antiquities, and history. (3) Combination of these two elements: familiarity with the peculiar character and spirit of revelation, and, in consequence, ability to distinguish between what is symbolical and mere myths, and again, between what is symbolical and what is pure history or abstract dogma. (The symbolical must not be confounded with myths; but, on the other hand, it must not be regarded as pure dogma.) (4) The mind of the interpreter must continually connect and bring into juxtaposition the Scriptures, in their general bearing, with the individual portions under examination. (Scripture must not be made to contradict itself by pressing the letter.) Analogy of faith: survey of the grand total bearing, the fundamental idea. Analogy of Scripture: survey of the individual and the special parts. Comparison of Scripture with Scripture. (5) A comparison and connection between the general spirit of Scripture, and the personal and individual views of each inspired writer. (6) A lively interchange between the mind of the Word and the mind of the interpreter. (7) A living interchange between the individual interpreter and the general spirit of interpretation in the Church. (Not, indeed, blind submission to authority, but neither craving for singularity.) b. For the proper interpretation (1) Accurate exposition of the meaning of the text. Interpretation in the narrower sense. (2) Illustration of the meaning of the text, by analogous passages. Explanation. (3) Reproduction of the meaning of the text, by pointing out its eternal bearing and import. Application. II. Exegetics Exegetics, in the widest sense, depends on the proper connection between the right understanding and interpretation of the general import of Scripture and that of its individual portions. The parts can neither be understood without the whole, nor the whole without the parts. Hence that interpreter only can advance the subject who has learned to view the individual parts in the light of the total bearing of Scripture, and the total bearing in the light of the individual portions thereof. Thus alone can the necessary equilibrium be preserved. Viewed theoretically, criticism is the first process, although, in point of practice, criticism follows upon exegetics and hermeneutics. Criticism consists in a lively interchange between a scrutiny of the general principle and that of the individual statements of Scripture. Hermeneutics then shows the lively interchange existing between the interpretation of the spirit, or of the meaning of Scripture as a whole, and the interpretation of the special passage or expression. Lastly, we have Exegetics proper, which may be either general or special. The former, or Introduction (Isagogics), establishes and explains, from the mutual relationship between the character of Scripture as historically ascertained, and the summary contents of its various portions, the import and substance of the Scriptures generally. Special Exegetics develops and exhibits the succession of thought in Scripture, down to the minutest expression and letter, by connecting and comparing the ascertained character of Scripture with the text under review. The Introduction to the various books of Scripture belongs to the department of Exegesis, since, on the one hand, it presupposes an exegetical analysis of each book, while, on the other, it concludes with an exegetical survey of the contents of the portion of Scripture examined. Again, Exegesis itself is an Introduction, in the most special sense of the term. For every exegetical treatise must not only commence with a special introduction to, and indicate the character and contents of, the portion of Scripture about to be examined, but it must ever again revert to those general views and leading characteristics which have been ascertained. 1. Definition of the Holy Scriptures Holy Scripture is the complete sum of the records of our divinely revealed religion, which culminates in Christianity. Hence it marks the progress of the incarnation of the Eternal Word of God to its completion in the final settlement of the canon of Scripture. If, generally speaking, writing is the peculiar organ of civilization, the medium for the increasing interchange of thought, the record of the history of mankind, the standard of its development, all this applies in the highest, and, indeed, in a unique sense, to the sacred writings. They are the form under which Christianity originally appeared to regenerate the world, the bond of fellowship between believers of all nations and ages, the record of the history of revelation, and the standard and rule for the development of Christianity and of the Church. In the all-wise arrangement of the God of revelation, Holy Writ was therefore as necessary as the Incarnation itself. The Gospel was destined to pervade every relationship of life and every institution. As in Baptism, it sanctified the washing with water; in the Eucharist, the meal of fellowship—the bread and the wine; and by the Charismata, the diversity of human gifts, so as a written record it sanctified the letter and assumed this essential form of intellectual and spiritual intercourse among men. Bretschneider:27 “The Bible may be viewed,—1, historically, if we inquire what its character is, according to the testimony of history—viz., a collection of credible documents of the Jewish and the Christian religion; or, 2, dogmatically, if we in quire in what light the religious society of Christians regard it—viz., as the code of Divine revelation.” While at one time theologians were wont to lay special emphasis on the dogmatical, they have of late equally dwelt upon the historical character of Scripture. But all such seeming antagonism disappears if we take a deeper view of Holy Writ. Scripture is not “a collection,” it is the collection. The various records of which it is composed, together form only one record. Lastly, the great question which claims our attention is not merely concerning the records of the Jewish and Christian religion generally, but as to the Divine origin and institution of these religions. Literature.—Comp. the article Bible in the different Encyclopædias of Ersch and Gruber, Herzog, Hagenbach, Pelt, [Kitto, Smith.—P. S.]. The different Introductions to the Old and New Testament (see a list of them in Winer’s Handbuch der theol. Literatur, vol. i, p. 33 sqq.). Also the introductory chapters of the Bible-works of Starke, Richter, Gerlach, Lisco, Bunsen. Then the articles on the Holy Scriptures in the principal works on Dogmatics. Köppen: Die Bibel, 2 vols. Finally the modern works on Biblical Theology. On the History of the Bible, see E. Reuss (Braunschweig, 2d ed., 1853), and the more popular works of Ostertag: Die Bibel und ihre Geschichte, (2d ed., Basel, 1857), and Tholuck Die Bibel (Leipzig, 1851). [Prideaux, Stackhouse, Howel, L. Clarke, on the History of the Bible; A. Alexander, and L. Gaussen, on the Canon of the Old and New Testaments.—P. S.] 2. Various Designations of the Scriptures The three different designations commonly given to the Scriptures indicate the different points from which the same Divine record maybe viewed. The term Bible (τὰ βιβλία sc. θεῖα), i.e. the Book, or the Book of books, points out the difference between Holy Writ and all other literature, while at the same time it also connects the Scriptures with the intellectual productions of men. All other writings are, like planets, to move round this central sun. The name Holy Scripture (ἱερὰ γραφή, ἁγία γραφή, θεῖα γραφή) refers to the relationship between the form or the letter of the Scriptures and the inspired word of God which it contains. Lastly, the term Word of God (Verbum Dei) indicates the identity of the oral revelation of God with the Bible, and also its internal identity—the agreement of the whole with the parts, and of the parts with the whole. The Bible, as such, is the historical object of theological science, the introduction to the Old and New Testament. The Bible, in its character as the Holy Scriptures, is the human expression of Divine inspiration, and the religious object of our faith. The Bible, as the Word of God, is the canon or the doctrinal rule and standard of our belief and practice. The first of these names designates the human aspect of Scripture in its Divine grandeur; the second, the combination of Divine revelation with human development and intellectuality; while the third points to the pure and perfect revelation of God which it embodies, or the canon, as the final and grand leading characteristic of the Bible, both as a book and as the Scriptures. 3. The Bible in its Divine Aspect Inspiration. The Word of God The Bible consists of a number of books, whose composition is coextensive with the progress of Divine revelation in Israel, and covers a period of more than one thousand five hundred years. Its writers were of the most different character and education; it exhibits every variety of form, and is couched in two very different languages. Yet withal it is so thoroughly one in its character, that it might be supposed to have been written in one century, in one year, in one hour, in one moment. Throughout, it is pervaded by one and the same idea of God and revealed religion; it sets forth the same truths; it breathes the same spirit; it has the same object. This is its Divine aspect. The Bible is not of time, nor of man; it is Divine, because it is inspired (2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:20-21). But the inspiration of the Scriptures by the Spirit of God must not be viewed apart from the inspiration of the holy men who wrote it, in the execution of their immediate, prophetic, and Divine calling. Nay, the inspiration for their office has this advantage over the inspiration of their writings, which are closely connected, that it is more direct and more lively. On the other hand, the inspiration of these writings implies special preparedness and collectedness on the part of the sacred writers, and a special significance of the occasion and the motive. In all these respects a corresponding measure of spiritual blessing and direction must have been vouchsafed. It is for didactic theology to enter into fuller details. The following points, however, should be borne in mind:—The idea of inspiration entertained by the Jews of Palestine was different from that of the Jews of Alexandria. The former accurately distinguished between Divine illumination and mere human enlightenment (hence the difference as to the Apocrypha). Besides, the views of the Palestinians were also sounder and more liberal on the question of the relation between the Divine Spirit and the intellect of man in inspiration. The Alexandrian Jews, following in this respect Grecian ideas, were wont to regard inspiration as something magical,—the individuality of man being for the time depressed and silenced: while the Hebrews understood it that human individuality was only humbled, but thereby also exalted and purified, and thus set free and quickened. The Alexandrians reasoned on the supposition that originally the Divine and the human mind were heterogeneous, and that in the course of history this gulf was bridged over; while the Hebrews proceeded on the idea of an original homogeneousness, and held that the discord which appeared in the course of history was more or less removed by the influence of grace. Hence it was that they alone properly appreciated the Divine element of Scripture in its human form—the “apples of gold in pictures of silver.” The Alexandrian idea was substantially that which, at a later period, was urged by the Montanists. This view of inspiration was rejected by the ancient Church. Still, kindred notions again partially prevailed in the seventeenth century. Rationalism was of course incompetent to remedy such a defect. If theologians had formerly overlooked the human individuality in the composition of Scripture, the Rationalists went to the opposite and more dangerous extreme of denying the Divine character of Scripture altogether, or at least of confining the Divine element to the operation of mere reason, or to special providence, or to moral elevation on the part of the writers. Inspiration necessarily implies the presence and sway of the Spirit of God in the writer, whereby he becomes the organ of that Spirit. The impulse or motive power (impulsus), the communication or the contents (suggestio), and the guidance toward the object aimed at (directio), are all divine, and conform to the objects and aim of the kingdom of God. But this also implies that inspiration itself is subject to certain limitations or conditions. These are either religious conditions, flowing from the nature of this object; or intellectual conditions, arising from its gradual realization; or organic conditions, connected with Him who is the great centre of that object; or, lastly, ethical conditions, springing from the personal holiness of that object. In other words, 1, The Bible, as inspired, is a book of religion, and not an astronomical, geological, or scientific Revelation 2, It has gradually progressed from the incompleteness of the Old, to the perfectness of the New Testament. 3, It has its centre in Christ, as God incarnate, and as the absolute revelation of God in human form. 4, It must never be considered as the effect of a morbid state of body or mind on the part of the writers (such as clairvoyance), but always as the result of direct moral and spiritual intercourse of the personal and living God with the personal mind of man. The Spirit of God was indeed strong enough to preserve the sacred writers from essential mistakes or false testimonies and traditions, and to secure to their writings the impress of never-fading freshness of youth, although He never could nor would force them to speak otherwise than in language conformable to the current ideas of the people, and to their own intellectual development. We are now prepared to answer that much vexed modern question,—whether the Holy Scriptures be the Word of God itself, or whether the Word of God be in the Holy Scriptures. Viewing the Bible in its individual parts and sections, we reply, The Word of God is in the Bible. But, regarding it as an organic whole, of which all the parts point to Christ and proceed from Christ, we must confess: Holy Writ, as it explains itself, and opens up from book to book and from verse to verse, is the one harmonious and complete Word of God.28 On the literature of inspiration, comp. the Encyclops.; also the works of Wilson, Haldane, Rudelbach, and Gaussen. We specially refer to Fr. de Rougemont, Christ et ses témoins, 2 vols. Paris and Lausanne, 1856—a work which equally opposes the views of Gaussen and the false spiritualism of the Strassburg school of Scherer and others. [W. Lee: The Inspiration of the Holy Scripture, its Nature and Proof. Dublin and New York, 1857, 478 pages.—P. S.] 4. The Holy Scriptures in their Human Aspect; or, History of the Holy Scriptures (Isagogics in the narrower sense) The period over which the composition of Holy Scripture extends, reaches from Moses to the Apostle John, or from about 1500 before to 100 after Christ,—a period of sixteen centuries,—irrespective of the oral traditions and of those small commencements of scriptural records which preceded the time of Moses. Equally great is the distance of places where these books were written, varying from Jerusalem and Babylon to Rome, and embracing all Palestine and Greece. The Bible was composed in the two leading languages of antiquity, which reflect the greatest contrast in the intellectual world. The Hebrew tongue may be characterized as the most unstudied and childlike, as the deepest, purest, and most direct language of spiritual experience; while the Greek is the most cultivated, refined, and philosophical expression of intellectual life. The inspired writers were shepherds and kings, men learned and men unlettered. The diversity of form in the Scriptures appears not only objectively in their contents and character (being partly historical, partly poetic, partly apophthegmatic, partly prophetic, and partly epistolary), but also subjectively in their style and composition, each book bearing a faithful impress of the individuality of its writer. Not reckoning the Apocrypha, the Old Testament comprises thirty-nine books (counting the Book of Lamentations separately), while the New Testament contains twenty-seven separate writings. Yet, from the unity of spirit pervading this vast literary collection, they constitute, really, only one book—a second intellectual creation (Psalms 19). The science of General Isagogics treats of Scripture as a whole, giving the history,—1, of the collection, or of the canon; 2, of the present form and character of the text, of the various codd. and editions; 3, of its spread, or of the translations and quotations; 4, of its application, or of interpretation. The science of Special Isagogics treats of separate books, discussing their authorship, time, place, occasion, character, contents, division, and literature. On the Introduction to the Holy Scriptures and its literature, compare Hagenbach’s Encycl. pp. 140, 144, and the excellent works of Hertwig: Tables to the Introduction into the Old Testament. Berlin, 1856; and to the Introduction into the New Testament. Berlin, 1855. 5. The Holy Scriptures in their Christological, Divine-Human (Theanthropic) Character; or, the Scriptures as the Canon. The Old and the New Testament Viewed in their Christological character, the Holy Scriptures are the canon, both as the record of the revelation completed in Christ, and as the rule of the Christian life of faith. According to this Christological principle, they are divided into the Old and New Testaments (testamentum, διαθήκη, בְּרִית), to indicate that the Old Testament is the incomplete commencement which is explained, fulfilled, and glorified by the New, embodying, as it does, absolute perfectness. According to the same principle, the Apocrypha are kept distinct, as a mere appendix to the Bible, which, so to speak, forms an intermediate link between the canonical Scriptures and common literature. Lastly, viewed in this light, the Scriptures bear special reference to the development of the Christian Church and of the Christian life, where their teaching is expressed in a logical form (more especially in confessions of faith), while at the same time they serve as the rule, standard, and guide on all questions of doctrine. The expression Canon implies not merely that the Bible is a sacred book, but that in its pages revelation continues, by the agency of the Spirit, an ever-present and ever-sufficient reality. As the canon, the Bible is, so to speak, the Word of God incarnate, which, by means of writing, continues spiritually effectual to the present time. The Old Testament is not merely the book of the Old Covenant, but the Old Covenant itself as the type of the New. Similarly, the New Testament is the New Covenant itself, the Gospels are the Gospel, and the apostolic writings, the living word of the Apostles. The organic Christological relationship between the Old and New Testament, according to which the former is the preparation, the introduction, and the growth of the New, while the latter is the fulfilment, the abrogation, and the completion of the Old, is indicated in the Old Testament itself, and amply confirmed in the New (Deuteronomy 18:18; Isaiah 66:3; Jeremiah 31:31-32; Ezekiel 36:25; Daniel 2:44; Hosea 2:19, etc.; and 2 Corinthians 3:7; Matthew 5:17-20; Matthew 12:40; Matthew 12:42; John 1:17-18; John 8:56; Galatians 3:25; Hebrews 8:7, etc.). The relationship between the canonical and the apocryphal books was correctly defined by the ancient Jewish synagogue, and, after it, by the ancient Greek and the modern Protestant Churches in opposition to the Roman Catholic theory. The Apocrypha serve, 1, as a kind of historical supplement, being a narrative of the kingdom of God during the period intervening between the Old and New Testaments; 2, as a record of popular piety, forming a distinct period between the age of the Prophets and that of the New Testament; 3, to exhibit the character of Alexandrian Judaism, though only a part of them is derived from that source; 4, as a background to the canon itself; 5, for private instruction and edification. Even the strictly Calvinistic Synod of Dort decided on retaining the Apocrypha along with the canon, and, despite their fallibility and mistakes, they are too deeply imbued with the genuine spirit of the Theocracy to rank them among the ἄτοπα καὶ δυσσεβῆ, in which Eusebius (3:25) places the heretical New Testament Apocrypha. The Hebrews have divided the Old Testament into the Law (תּוֹרָה); the Prophets, נְבִיאִים (which includes the books of Joshua, of the Judges, of Samuel, and of the Kings); and the Writings generally (כְסוּבּ), or Hagiographa. This division bears reference to the foundation, the historical development, and the edification of the Theocracy. The great preponderance of the prophetic books in the canon, clearly shows that Judaism was the religion of the future, and that the tendency of the Old Testament was ever towards the New. The arrangement of the canon adopted in Christian theology is that into Historical, Doctrinal, and Prophetical Books, corresponding to the same division in the New Testament. According to this analogy we notice, 1, that to us the Law has become history; 2, that the Prophets are brought into immediate contact with the New Testament, and point out the tendency of the Old towards the New Covenant; while the circumstance that the New Testament contains only one prophetical book, although it is throughout a prophecy of the second coming of Christ, indicates the deep rest which the longings of the soul have found, in the appearance of Christ, and in the redemption which He has accomplished. Viewing the Holy Scriptures as one connected canon, we may consider all doctrine as historical fact with historical efficacy, and all history as ideal, symbolical, typical, and spiritual, while in their prophetic portions they combine both these elements. There is, of course, a difference between the genuine canon of Scripture and that which is current, in respect, 1, of unauthenticated readings, or variations; 2, of mistakes, or of infelicity of translation; 3, of the various misrepresentations of the genuine text by exegetical traditions. The Scriptures, as canon, are necessarily subordinate to the living Saviour, and to the blessed Trinity. They are the written revelation of Christ, but not a second Christ; least of all when taken individually, and under the impression that the Old Testament is in every respect quite equal in authority to the New Testament. On the other hand, as the canon of Christ, the Scriptures must ever form the directory of the external Church, and of the individual Christian, in their fallible growth and development, and are consequently above them. Finally, they are coordinate, or occupy the same line with the ideal life of Christ in the Church, and stand forth as a second spiritual creation by the side of God’s revelation in nature.29 6. Import of the Holy Scriptures The Bible is a mystery of Divine Providence in the department of literature similar in character to the mystery of the incarnation itself. The incarnation of God in Christ has, so to speak, assumed a bodily expression in the essential Church, i. e., in the preaching of the Gospel, on the basis of the apostolic office, and in the congregation of holy baptism and of the Eucharist. Similarly, the Scriptures are its intellectual or spiritual30 expression. It is simply impiety to designate the origin of the Bible as accidental, while the decrees of Synods and papal bulls are called necessary. Holy Writ is the tradition of traditions, and the canon of canons. All other traditions and canons must be brought to the test of the Prophets and Apostles. And, in truth, the Bible reflects all times and places, or rather it is the reflex of eternity. Viewed in reference to its centre, it is the biography of the eternal Christ; viewed in its circumference, it is that of humanity: for, in the power of the prophetic spirit which pervades it, it embraces the end as well as the commencement of our world, and sounds the depths of hell as well as scales the heights of heaven. The book of God is also the book of the world; and, rightly understood, the book of nature as well as the book of the Spirit. There, the history of revelation becomes doctrine, and doctrine becomes history. Proceeding from the Spirit of God, it is fully understood only by the Spirit, even as it can only be explained and applied by the Spirit. To those who are called and waiting, it opens its mysteries; while to the hardened and the sinner it proves a closed book, as it were sealed with seven seals. Nay, like the Gospel itself, it is to some “a savour of life unto life;” to others, “a savour of death unto death.” The outward senses may be absorbed by the letter only, and make an idol of it. In this respect the elements of Scripture have the same import and effect as those of the world. But just as the elements of the world are only rightly known when viewed in the unity of creation, and only wholly known if viewed as the symbolical Word of God, so the Bible is only rightly known when regarded as the second and spiritual creation, and wholly known when viewed as the second and higher revelation of God—the revelation of the foundation, of the reconciliation, and of the transformation of the world. 7. Relation between Holy Writ and the so-called Sacred Records of other Nations and Religions All the principal religions have chronicled their origin in sacred records, which ever afterwards were regarded as the standard for their development. The most renowned of these religious records are the Vedas of the Indians, the Kings of the Chinese, the Zendavesta of the Persians, the two Eddas of the ancient Germans, and the Koran of the Mohammedans. Even the Old Testament, when brought into combination with the Jewish Talmud, becomes quite different from what it is when viewed in the light of the New Dispensation. To the Jews it has become a series of traditional statutes, upon which the covering of Moses rests. The Mormons of our day have stamped upon themselves the mark of apostasy, since, like Mohammed of old, they have adopted the falsified records of a new and spurious revelation. The religious records of all nations are faithful representations of these religions themselves. All heathen religions are mythical,—the myth being the essential form of heathenism. But if form and substance are related, the contrast between Holy Scripture and myths must be as great in point of form as that between revealed religion and heathenism. In the Bible, religion has become faith, faith fact, fact sacred history, and sacred history the soul of secular history. Hence also biblical history gives not merely outward facts, but is itself symbolical. Hence also biblical doctrine is not a scholastic system, but also historical and deeply practical. Lastly, it is on this ground that Scripture presents such a wonderful concatenation and succession of history and of doctrine. But the antagonism of history and doctrine is transformed into a higher unity in the prophetical and poetical portions of Scripture. Revealed religion discloses the errors of all other creeds, while at the same time it brings out any remnant of truth in them, which in turn may become a point of connection for the kingdom of God. Similarly, Holy Writ sheds light on the sacred records of the Gentiles, showing their utter insufficiency, their errors, and the traditions of truth which may have been preserved in them. Indeed, the same remark might be made with reference to all other literature. Thus in this sense also the Bible is the Book of books. III. Special Exegetics; or, the Art and Practice of Scriptural Exposition Viewing it in the widest sense, all science and civilization, consciously or unconsciously, must serve as a kind of exposition of the Scriptures, and that whether the Scriptures be dragged down to the level of man, or man raised to the level of the Scriptures. (The Talmud, the New Testament.) Speaking more strictly, the spiritual life of the Christian Church, and more especially the pastoral office, may be regarded as an exposition of the Scriptures, with a twofold and diverse result (tradition, faith). Lastly, the same remark holds true of scriptural exposition in the narrowest and special sense of the term; and there is an exegesis which draws down Scripture to its own level, and another which rises to that of Scripture (mere dogmatism or rationalism on the one hand, and, on the other, the light of the Bible thrown upon exegesis, and that of exegesis upon the Bible). Various qualifications are requisite for the right interpretation of the Scriptures. Thus the Bible as a whole must all along be compared with its individual parts; exposition must be closely connected with explanation, or the word with the life; exegetical tradition (or the analogy of faith as expressed in the various confessions of faith) and individuality must each have their proper place,—there must be proper submission, and yet proper independence; above all, the interpreter must ever realize that the Lord speaks, and that he is to hear,—or, in other words, the truth revealed must find a response in the obedience of faith, and again, in the prayer which it evokes. The results of Exegesis are Bible History and Biblical Theology. IV. Bible History Bible History differs from the general history of the kingdom of God, in that it delineates only the foundation of this kingdom by means of and during the course of revelation. It traces in historical succession the narrative contained in the Scriptures in all its essential features. In the Old Testament, it shows us all the elements of the life of faith, and sets before us many a precious example of faith and patience for our imitation; while in the New Testament it exhibits the history of faith and salvation “made perfect,” both in the miracles and triumphs of the Lord, and in the deeds of His Apostles. Thus Bible History forms the basis of Church History. Comp. the Sacred Histories of Hübner, Rauschenbusch, Zahn, Grube, Günther, Kurtz, etc. V. Biblical Theology Biblical Theology may be regarded as the final result of exegesis, and at the same time as the basis of the History of Dogmas and of Systematic Theology. Its purpose is to trace the gradual yet uniform development of Christian doctrine and ethics throughout revelation. It may be divided into General and Special. The former follows the development of faith throughout Scripture, showing,—a, The Divine aspect of Scripture, or its one and all-pervading idea: the faith of revelation in the God of revelation, b, Its human aspect, or its gradual unfolding in the individual books of Scripture, according to the various stages of religious development and their character. c, Its Christological or theanthropic aspect, viewing revelation to its completion in Christ, and according to the different doctrinal types in the New Testament.—On the other hand, it is the task of Special Biblical Theology to trace the doctrines of Scripture from their first germs in the Old Testament to their completion in the New, viewing them in the light of theology, of anthropology, of Christology, and of the doctrine of the kingdom of God (Theocratology). On the literature of the subject, comp. Hagenbach, pp 197 and 201. [We mention de Wette, Steudel, Oehler, Lutz, on Biblical Theology, and especially the excellent work of the late Dr. Schmid,of Tübingen: The Biblical Theology of the N. T. Stuttg., 1853, in 2 vols.—P. S.] VI. Appendix. Exegetical and Homiletical Helps31 1. Biblical Philology.— a) Hebrew Grammar: Gesenius, Rödiger, Ewald, Stier, Freitag, Hupfeld, Thiersch, Nägelsbach. [Engl. works: Stuart, Conant, Bush, Tregelles, Nordheimer, Green.—P. S.] b) Hebrew Dictionaries: Buxtorf, Coccejus, Simonis, Simonis-Winer, Gesenius, Schröder, Fürst, Maurer. [Robinson’s Gesenius, 3d ed., Bost., 1849; B. Davidson and Bagster’s Analytical Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon (with a grammatical analysis of each word in the H. Bible), London, 1848.—P. S.] c) New Testament Grammar: Winer [6th ed., Leipz., 1855. Two Engl. trsl.—P. S.], Alt, Buttmann. d) New Testament (and Septuagint) Dictionaries: Schöttgen, Schleussner, Wahl, Bretschneider, Schirlitz, Wilke, Dalmer, [Robinson: A Greek and Engl. Lexicon of the N. T., the new ed., New York, 1851, etc., and Bagster’s Analytical Greek Lexicon, Lond., 1852.—P. S.] 2. Archæology.—Geography of Palestine: Ritter (Erdkunde, vol. 15), K. von Raumer, Bräm, Crome, Völter, Robinson, [Stanley, Thomson, Hackett, Bausman.—P. S.] Maps of Grimm, Kiepert, Zimmermann, and the Bibel-Atlas of Weiland, Weimar, 1832, [and of Jenks, Coleman, and the Americas Tract Society.—P. S.] Topograghy of Jerusalem Schulz (Berlin, 1845), Krafft (Bonn, 1846), Tobler, Robinson, Berggren. 3. Introduction to the Bible.—Bertholdt de Wette, Scholz, Eichhorn, Schott, Hug, Credner, Guericke, Reuss, Hengstenberg (Beiträge), Hävernik, Keil, etc.; [also the posthumous works of Bleek, and the English works of Horne and Davidson.—P. S.] 4. Editions of the Bible.—Polyglot Bible by Stier and Theile (Bielefeld, 2d ed., 1854, 4 vols.). The Hebr Old Testament by Simonis, van der Hooght, Hahr, Theile. The Septuagint by Breitinger, Tischendorf, and Paris edition. The Greek Testament by Griesbach, Knapp, Schott, Hahn, Lachmann (small and large editions), Theile, Tischendorf (Leipz. 1841, ’48, ’49, 59, different ed.), etc. Synopsis or Harmonies of the Gospels: Griesbach, de Wette and Lücke, Rödiger, Anger, Tischendorf, Robinson (all in Greek), Lex (Die Evangelien-Harmonie, Wiesbaden, 1835), [Robinson, Strong, in English.—P. S.] The Vulgate by van Ess, Kistemaker, etc. [Note.—The best of the many ed. of Tischendorf, which I have used in this Engl. edition of Lange’s Matthew, is the large critical edition in 2 vols.: Novum Testamentum Grœce. Ad antiquos testes denuo recensuit, apparatum criticum omni studio perfectum apposuit, etc. Edit. septima, Lips. 1859. The smaller critical edition in one vol. (ed. ii. 1849) gives a sufficient amount of critical apparatus for ministers and students. In connection with this, reference should be had now also to Tischendorf s edition of the famous Codex Sinaiticus, discovered by him, and issued in 1863. Of Lachmann I have used the large edition in two volumes with the Latin translation: Novum Testamentum Grœce et Latine. Berolini, 1842 and 1850. I have also compared occasionally Stier and Theile: Polyglotten-Bibel, 2d ed., 1849; and Philippus Buttmann: Novum Testamentum Grœce ad fidem codicis Vaticani, (Cod. B.) Berol., 1862, (in new Greek type, conformed to the ancient uncial MSS., the Greek inscriptions of the Augustan age, and the Pompeyan papers.) The best English editions of the Greek Testament, to which I have more or less frequently referred in the course of the work, are the following: Dr. S. T. Bloomfield: The Greek Testament with English Notes, 9th ed., Lond., 1855, 2 vols., with a supplementary volume of Critical Annotations, Lond., 1860, which contains a digest of the various readings, and embodies the investigation of seventy uncollated or ill-collated MSS. and the valuable materials derived from Scrivener’s collation of seventy MSS. W. Webster and W. F. Wilkinson: The Greek Testament with Notes, Critical and Exegetical. Lond., 1855, 2 vols. Anglican, useful “for learners rather than the learned.” Dr. Henry Alford: The Greek Testament, etc., 4th ed., Lond. 1859, 4 vols. The first vol. containing the four Gospels, was reprinted, from the third ed., by the Harpers of New York, 1859. Alford gives a revised text, and a critical digest of various readings (entirely rewritten in the 4th ed.) between the text and the comments. He surpasses his English predecessors, is essentially orthodox (Anglican) and evangelical, yet critical, liberal, progressive, and made good use of the Germans, especially Olshausen, Tischendorf, de Wette and Meyer. Dr. Chr. Wordsworth: The New Testament in the original Greek: with Notes, new ed. in 2 vols., Lond., 1862. Conservative, reverential, patristic and Anglican. Dr. S. P. Tregelles (a Plymouth brother, and a believer in the absolute plenary inspiration): The Greek New Testament, edited from ancient authorities, with various readings of all the ancient MSS., the ancient versions, and earlier eccles. writers (to Eusebius incl.). together with the Latin version of Jerome, Lond., vol. i. containing the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, 1859; vol. ii., containing Luke and John, 1860. Not yet completed. Tischendorf does him injustice in his large ed. of 1859, Prolegg., p. 113 sqq. Tregelles is one of the few scholars who have made the restoration of the genuine apostolic text of the N. T. the work of their life, and, like Bengel, unites with critical learning and laborious research a childlike faith and profound reverence for the Word of God. Mr. Scrivener, in his Introduction to the Criticism of the N. T. (1861), p. 347, remarks: “Every one who venerates the spectacle of time and substance freely bestowed in the best of causes, without the prospect or indeed the possibility of earthly reward, will grieve to know that the further prosecution of his opus magnum is for a while suspended by Dr. Tregelles’ serious illness.”—P. S.] 5. Criticism.—Capelli, Kenicott, Bengel, Gries bach, Reiche, Schleiermacher, Löhnis, Lachmann, Tischendorf. [Bloomfield, Alford, Wordsworth, Tregelles, in the critical parts of their ed. of the Gr. Test., and especially the able work of Fr. H. Scrivener: A plain Introduction to the Criticism, of the N. T. for the use of Biblical students. Cambridge, 1861.—P. S.] Kirchhofer: Quellensammlung zur Geschichte des N. T. Kanons. Zürich, 1844. Olshausen on the Genuineness of all the books of the N. T. [Engl. trsl. by Fosdick, prefixed to vol. i. of Kendrick’s Olshausen.—P. S.] Thiersch on the Canon, 1845. Ebrard: Kritik der evang. Geschichte [not Schriften, as the original reads.—P. S.], 2d ed., 1850. [Engl. condensed trsl., Edinb., 1863.] Bleek: Beiträge zur Evangelienkritik. [Westcott: Introduction to the Study of the Gospels. Amer. ed. with an introduction by Hor. B. Hackett. Boston, 1862.—P. S.] Also Neander, Lange, Schaff, Thiersch, on the Apostolic Age. For the O. T.: Hengstenberg, Hävernick, Keil, Bleek, etc. 6. Translations.—Luther’s last original edition of his German Bible, by Bindseil and Niemeyer, Halle, 1850. Von Hoff, Leipz., 1851. Other German Bible versions: by Friedr. von Meyer, Stier (Bielefeld, 1856), de Wette, the Zürich transl., and the Roman Catholic translations of Leander van Ess, Braun, Brentano, Allioli, Dereser, etc. [English versions: Wiclif, a. d. 1380; Tyndale, 1534; Cranmer, 1539; Geneva, 1560; The Bishop’s Bible, 1568; Authorized, or King James’s, 1611. Roman Catholic versions: Anglo-Rhemish, 1582, and Douay Bible, 1609, etc. See Bagster’s English Hexapla, London; also Mrs. H. C. Conant: Hist. of the Engl. Bible New York, 1856. The publications of the American Bible Union, N. York, especially the revised versions of Lillie, Conant, and Hackett. Dean Trench on the Revision of the C. V., Lond., 1858. Dr. Alford’s revised Engl. N. Test., Lond., 1863. The authorized English Bible of 1611 is, upon the whole, the best of all Bible versions ancient and modern. Comp. John H. Newman’s eloquent testimony in its favor, after his transition to Rome; also the testimony of Marsh in his Lectures on the English Language.—P. S.] 7. Commentaries on the Whole Bible.—Critici sacri, several editions. Amsterd., 1698; Frankf. a. M., 1700, etc. Polus: Synopsis, Frkf., 1712, 5 vols. Grotius: Annotationes. On the Old Testament: Rosenmüller (Scholia), Maurer, the Exeget. Manual (Germ.) of Leipz., 1838 sqq., (rationalistic in part). On the New T.: Calvin, Wolf (Curœ philologicœ et criticœ, 1741, 5 vols.), Bengel [Gnomon, Lat., Germ., and in two Engl. transl.], Olshausen [transl. into Engl., Edinb.; Amer. ed., revised by Dr. Kendrick, N. Y. 1856, etc.], de Wette, Meyer. [English Commentaries on the whole Bible: Henry, Scott, J. Gill, Clarke, Patrick—Lowth—Whitby, David Brown (Glasgow, 1863); on the New T.: Hammond, Doddridge, Burkitt, Bloomfield, Alford, Wordsworth, Webster and Wilkinson, Barnes, Owen, Jacobus.—P. S.] 8. Commentaries on Separate Books.—See list in Hagenbach: Theol. Encycl., p. 179 sqq., and Winer: Handbuch der theol. Lit., i., p. 33 sqq., 162 sqq. [On Genesis and the Pentateuch: Calvin, Luther, Hengstenberg, Tuch, Bertheau, Gerlach, Delitzsch, Bush. On the other historical books of the O. T.: Keil, Maurer, Thenius, Movers, Bertheau, Bush. On the Psalms: Luther, Calvin, De Wette, Tholuck, Hengstenberg, Hupfeld, Delitzsch, Jos. Add. Alexander, Isaac Taylor. On Job: Ewald, Umbreit, Hirzel, Schlottmann, Barnes, Conant. On the Proverbs: Umbreit, Stier, Bertheau, M. Stuart. On the Song of Songs: Herder, Umbreit, Ewald, Hengstenberg, Delitzsch. On Ecclesiastes: Umbreit, Knobel, Bertheau, Hengstenberg. On Isaiah: Gesenius, Hitzig, Dressler, Händewerk, Jos. Add. Alexander. On Jeremiah: Hitzig, Umbreit. On Ezekiel: Hävernick, Hitzig. On Daniel: Hävernick, Hengstenberg, Lengerke, Hitzig, Auberlen. On the Minor prophets: Theiner, Ackermann, Hitzig, Henderson, Pusey.—On the New Testament: On the Four Gospels (either separately or in harmonies): Calvin, Olshausen, Meyer, Macknight, Campbell, Greswell, Owen, Jacobus; also Catena aurea on the Gospels from the Fathers, collected by Thomas Aquinas. Oxf., 1843. On Matthew and Mark: Fritzsche, Jos. Add. Alexander, Conant. On Luke: van Osterzee (in Lange’s Bibelwerk). On the Gospel of St. John: Lampe, Lücke, Tholuck, Luthardt, Hengstenberg. On the Sermon on the Mount: Tholuck. On the Parables and Miracles: Trench. On all the Discourses of Jesus: Stier: Reden Jesu. (The Words of the Lord Jesus, trsl. by Pope, and republ. twice in America.) On the Acts: Baumgarten, Hackett, Jos. Add. Alexander. On all the Epistles of St. Paul: Calvin, MacKnight, Conybeare and Howson (Life and Epistles of St. Paul. Lond. and N. York ed.). On separate epistles of Paul: Tholuck (on the Romans), Fritzsche (ditto, 3 vols., Latin), Rückert, Mos. Stuart (ditto) Osiander (Corinthians), Winer, Usteri, Wieseler (Galatians), Harless, Stier (on the Ephesians), Huther, Wiesinger (the smaller and the Pastoral Epistles), Neander (Corinthians, Philippians, etc.), Pelt, Lillie (Thessalonians), Hackett (Philemon), Hodge (on Romans, 1 Corinthians, and Ephesians), Ellicott, (the English Meyer, on Galatians, Ephesians, Thessalonians, etc., republished in Andover, 1860, sqq.). On the Epistle to the Hebrews: Bleek (a real exegetical masterpiece, in 3 vols., 1828–1840), Tholuck, Stuart, Ebrard (as continuator of Olshausen). On the Catholic Epistles: Steiger (on Peter), Lücke, Neander, Rickli, Düsterdieck, Ebrard (on John’s Epistles), Archbishop Leighton (on 1 Peter), Schneckenburger, Kern, Neander, Stier (on James), Stier (on Jude). On the Apocalypse: Bengel, Auberlen, Hengstenberg, Lücke, Düsterdieck, Ebrard, Bleek, Elliott, Mos. Stuart.—P. S.] 9. Bible Dictionaries (of things).—Winer: Bibl. Real-Wörterbuch, 2 vols., 3d ed., 1848 (critical), Zeller: Biblisches Wörterbuch, 2 vols., 1856 (popular, and very useful). Many articles in Herzog’s Real-Encyclop. für Prot. Theol., [condensed transl. of Bomberger and others, unfinished.] Oetinger: Bibl. Wörterbuch, newly ed. by Hamberger, Stuttg., 1850. [English Bible Dictionaries: Taylor’s, and Robinson’s Calmet, Kitto, W. Smith (London and Boston, 1863, 3 vols.), and, for popular use, those of the American Tract Society, and of the American Sunday-School Union.—P. S.] 10. General Bible Works for practical and homiletical use.—Christoph Starke (Past. primarius of Driesen): Synopsis Bibliothecœ exegeticœ in Vetus et Novum Testamentum; oder kurzgefasster Auszug der gründlichsten und nutzbarsten Auslegungen, 2d ed., Leipz., 1740, 10 vols. The Berleburger Bibel, 1726–’39, 8 vols. fol., new ed., 1857, J. J. Hess: Bibelwerk, Zürich, 1776–1812, 23 parts. H. & W. Richter: Erklärte Hausbibel, Barmen, 1840. O. v. Gerlach: Das A. und N. Test. mit Einleitungen und erklärenden Anmerkungen, Berlin, 1854, Lisco: Das A. und N. Test. mit erklärenden Anmerkungen. Matthew Henry: An Exposition of the O. and N. T., London, 1849, 6 vols., [and many older Engl. and Amer. editions. Henry’s Com. is very spiritual and practical, and widely popular in England and America. The same is true of Thomas Scott: The holy Bible, with original notes, practical observations, etc., first 1788, 5th and best ed., Lond. 1822, in 6 vols., and often since.—P. S.] Braun (Rom. Cath.): Die heil. Schrift, lat. u. deutsch nach dem Sinne der h. röm. Kirche, der h. Kirchenväter, etc., Augsb., 1789–1806, 13 vols. SECOND SECTION GENERAL AND SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT _____________ § 1 THE NEW TESTAMENT I. The Name: New Testament The term New Testament unquestionably proceeds from the institution of the Lord’s Supper. The Lord designates the Eucharist the New Covenant in His blood, in the strict sense of the term. The New Testament fellowship of believers reconciled to God by Christ, which commences in, and is introduced by baptism, is completed and appears outwardly in the Holy Supper. In the Eucharist the Lord carries out that New Covenant with the Church which is founded upon His holy life and His Word, upon His atoning death, His victory, and on the conversion of individual believers. While the celebration of the Eucharist is a remembrance of the first foundation of the Church, it ever inaugurates anew the formation of the Church, and also serves as its manifestation. Hence the writings which record the foundation of this new and eternal covenant are themselves called the New Covenant, the New Testament. Lastly, this designation indicates the connection and the contrast between these writings and those of the Old Covenant. II. Origin of the New Testament The first commencement of the New Testament dates, in all probability, from the period when the Lord lived and taught on earth. It has ever been the practice to write down that which was deemed most memorable. Accordingly, it can scarcely be supposed that any one acquainted with letters should have been brought into contact with the Lord, or come under the influence of His Spirit, without noting down the most striking occurrences he had witnessed, or the most weighty truths he had heard. In this manner some brief memoirs must have been composed before any of the New Testament writings had been compiled—a fact to which, indeed, the Evangelist Luke bears testimony (Matthew 1:1). Nay, more, we are warranted in assuming that the most important events in the early history of Christ, such as the song of praise of Zacharias, of the Virgin, and of old Simeon, may have been written down at a very early period. To our mind it seems natural that Matthew, who was probably the most practised writer32 among the Apostles, should very early have collected together the sayings of the Lord; and similarly, that John should have made a collection of His discourses. But such memorabilia were only the faithful historical recollections of individuals. Before the New Testament could be written, the work of the Lord required to be finished, and His Holy Spirit poured out upon the Apostles, that thus they might be fully fitted for their high calling. The original mission intrusted to the Apostles and the seventy disciples—to testify of the Lord after the completion of His life and work—necessarily implied also the duty of writing about Him, as opportunity afforded. If, according to the Saviour’s injunction, they were to devote all their energies to this work, to apply every means, to seize every opportunity for its promotion, they must, of course, also have employed the powerful instrumentality of literature. Nor were they unfaithful to their calling. As they went forth into all the world preaching the Gospel, so also did they address themselves to all ages by their writings. And, as at last, at the end of the world, they shall again meet, the faithful messengers of the Lord, who by the instrumentality of the Church (which they had served to plant) have fulfilled their great commission of preaching the Gospel to every creature, so also will they be found to have accomplished their work through the writings of the New Testament. As the composition of the New Testament formed, like the preaching of the Word, part of the great mission which the Lord intrusted to His Apostles, it required special Divine preparation and illumination by the Holy Ghost. Just as “holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost,” so wrote they by the same Spirit. The inspiration bestowed on them for the purposes of their apostolic calling, was at the same time the source of their preaching and of their writings. But, while asserting the Divine origin of the New Testament, we do not by any means overlook the human form in which it was cast. On the contrary, that human form appeared all the more genuinely when it became the vehicle of Divine revelation. Hence, the New Testament writings are clothed in the language of Greece, and couched in its peculiar mode of thought. This form constitutes another contrast between the Old and the New Testament. The language of the Old Testament (the Hebrew) is that of feeling, of directness, and of the esoteric religion of the Jews. The language of the New Testament is that of full intellectual consciousness (νοῦς), of matured reflection, and of the exoteric religion of all nations. But the New Testament is also imbued with the spirit of the Old; and whenever there is any direct and esoteric presentation of revelation (the speaking ἐν πνεύματι), we meet with frequent Hebraisms, especially in the Book of Revelation. III. Chronological Succession of the books of the New Testament The oldest apostolic letter is that addressed by the Synod at Jerusalem, about the year 53 [or rather a. d. 50—P. S.], to the Gentile Christian Churches, and which is recorded by Luke in the 15th chapter of Acts. Soon afterward Paul wrote his first letters to the Churches. The apostolic writings may be arranged in the following order of succession:— 1. The two Epistles to the Thessalonians, written from Corinth, about 54 or 55 [53—P. S.]. 2. The Epistle of Paul to the Galatians, written from Ephesus, about the year 56 or 57. 3. The two Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, written from Ephesus and Mace donia, about the year 58. 4. The Epistle of Paul to the Romans, written from Corinth, about the year 59. 5. The Epistle of James, written from Jerusalem, and addressed to the Jewish Christians in the Diaspora, about the year 62. 6. The Epistles of Paul to the Ephesians, to the Colossians, and to Philemon, written from Rome, about the year 63. 7. The Epistle of Paul to the Philippians, written from Rome, about the year 64. 8. The Epistle to the Hebrews, the Gospel by Luke, and the Acts of the Apostles, written probably from the same place, or at least from Italy, and about the same time—the year 64. 9. The First Epistle of Peter, written from Babylon, about the year 64. 10. The First Epistle of Paul to Timothy, written from Macedonia, between 64 and 66 [?]. 11. The Epistle of Paul to Titus, written from Macedonia, or from Greece, between 64 and 66 [?]. 12. The Second Epistle of Paul to Timothy, written from Rome, about the year 67 or 68 [?]. 13. The Second Epistle of Peter, written in the same place, and about the same time, about 67 or 68. 14. The Gospel by Mark, written in Rome, about the year 68. 15. The Gospel by Matthew, written in Judea, about the year 68 or 69. 16. The Gospel by John, written about the year 70. 17. The Epistle of Jude, written probably between the years 80 and 90 18. The Revelation of John, written about the year 95. 19. The three Epistles of John, written probably between the years 96 and 100 [?].33 IV. Critical Collection of the New Testament Canon It will be readily granted that the various Churches carefully preserved the epistles and writings of the Apostles, and those of their assistants, the Evangelists Mark and Luke. The idea that several apostolic writings, more especially a third Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, and an Epistle to the Laodiceans by the same Apostle, have been lost, owes its origin to a misunderstanding of some allusions in the New Testament. (Comp. Lange’s Apost. Age, I. 205 sqq.) But it is probable that at a later period Mark himself enlarged his Gospel by adding to it a conclusion, appended to that which it had in its original shape; as also, that at the commencement of the second century, the well-known passage in the Second Epistle of Peter was inserted after the Epistle of Jude. (Apost. Age, I. 152) These circumstances, however, do not affect the authenticity of the text. The interpolation of the trinitarian passage in 1 John 5:7-8, is of much later date. The Gospel of Matthew, originally written in Hebrew, was translated at a very early period, and probably by Matthew himself, into our present Greek Gospel, which has ever since been received as canonical in the Church. It was natural that the writings of the Apostles should be communicated from one church to the other, and extensively diffused, since many of them were evangelical epistles, addressed to several, or to all Christian communities (as, for example, the Epistle to the Hebrews, that of James, the two Epistles of Peter, the First Epistle of John, the seven epistles in the Book of Revelation, and the Epistle to the Ephesians), Besides, the practice was also distinctly prescribed by the Apostles (Colossians 4:16). Accordingly, we find even in the New Testament an allusion to collections of apostolic writings, more especially of those of Paul, as in the Second Epistle of Peter (Matthew 3:16), with which also Acts 16 may be compared with reference to the address of the Synod of Jerusalem, recorded in Acts 15. Such collections of apostolic writings rendered something like critical examination necessary, to enable the churches to distinguish between what was genuine and what spurious. It is remarkable that so early as in the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians (2 Thessalonians 2:2), which is the second oldest of the New Testament writings, we find an appeal to the critical sense of the churches. So long, indeed, as some of the Apostles, or even their immediate disciples, lived and taught, the stream of oral apostolical tradition was so abundant and so pure, that some preferred to apply directly to that source of instruction. Thus we account, for example, for the circumstance that Papias, a disciple of John, who lived at the commencement of the second century, mentions the Gospels of Matthew and of Mark, but, instead of referring to those of Luke and of John, records the names of the men whose presence and instructions had in his case filled the place of these Gospels (Euseb. 3:33; comp. Lange, Leben Jesu, I. 151, and Apost. Age, I. 215). Even in the writings of the apostolic Fathers we meet with frequent evidence of their familiarity with the New Testament writings. On these various testimonies, as they multiply with the lapse of time, as also on the various forms and lists of the canon to its final close in the fourth century, compare the various Introductions to the New Testament. Nor must we omit to mention that, during the first three centuries, the Church amply proved its critical capacity by rejecting from the canon that vast mass of apocryphal writings which claimed admission into the New Testament. But the deep contrast between these works and the spirit of the New Testament has only lately been fully brought to light, in connection with the controversy about the mythical theory of Strauss. (Compare the literature on the subject as given by Winer, and the collections of New Testament Apocrypha, by Fabricius, Thilo, and Tischendorf.) V. Unity and Organic Arrangement of the New Testament DIVISION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT At first, it seemed as if the ancient Church would have adopted an arrangement of the New Testament writings substantially similar to that of the Jews for the Old Testament. Thus we find mention of three sections of the New Testament, to correspond with the ancient division into Law, Prophets, and Hagiographa. Besides the arrangement into τὸ εὐαγγέλιον and ὁ ἀπόστολος (Clemens Alex.), τὰ εὐαγγελικὰ καὶ τὰ ἀποστολικά (Irenæus)—by which they meant the Gospels, and, in the first place at least, the writings of St. Paul—we also find mention of a third collection under the name of καθολικαὶ ἐπιστολαί, which seems to have included the apostolic writings generally, καθόλου (see Hug. Einl. in’s N. T., vol. ii., p. 428). This explanation of the word καθολικός has been controverted; but the fact that the Epistle to the Hebrews, although catholic in its tenor, was not included among the Catholic Epistles, because its authorship was attributed to St. Paul, speaks in favor of the above suggestion. This division of the New Testament, however, fell to the ground when the canon was completed. Hence there can be no valid objection to the modern division into Historical, Doctrinal, and Prophetic books. But it deserves notice that the Book of Acts was originally, and also in the Scripture lessons, included among the Epistles, and this with good reason; for in the strict historical sense, it belongs not to the period of the Gospel history, but to that of the foundation of the Church by the Apostles, and serves as historical basis to the Epistles. Properly speaking, it forms a transition from the historical to the doctrinal books. This division of the New Testament is warranted by the peculiar cast, and by the prevailing characteristics of its various books, although in a certain sense each of them contains, at the same time, history, doctrine, and prophecy. Keeping this arrangement in view, the New Testament canon presents to our mind the eternal past, present, and future of the Church; Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever—or Christ in His historical manifestation, in His rule over the Church, and in His glorious advent. But here each part is organically connected with the other, just as, in the idea of eternal life, the past, the present, and the future pervade and interpenetrate each other. “All the writings of the New Testament contain, in the first place, the basis, or the ideal past of the Church; next, its standard, or the rule for its present development; lastly, its final aim, or the goal of its future.” (See my Apost. Age, ii., p. 571.) The historical books describe the first manifestation and the foundation of the kingdom of heaven in our world, and its inroad upon the world, with a view to final conquest, by the planting of the apostolic Church. The doctrinal books are intended to serve as a directory for the development of Christian and ecclesiastical life in the kingdom of heaven, or of the kingdom of heaven as manifest in ecclesiastical and Christian life, in all its relations to the world, whether hostile or peaceable. This development is ever based upon, and traced to, the first coming of Christ for the redemption of man. Lastly, the prophetical books are intended to guide this development of Christian and ecclesiastical life, in accordance with the prophetic announcement and description of the second advent of Christ. The foundation of the kingdom of heaven—its unfolding—its future conquests, and ultimate completion: such are the three parts which constitute the New Testament. The Historical portion of the New Testament consists of two parts, the Gospels, and the Book of Acts. The former exhibits the eternal basis of the Church, and its foundation in time; the latter, the planting of the Church, its original form, and the first and prophetic outlines of its spread through the world. _____________ § 2 HISTORICAL BOOKS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT The four Gospels, which together form only one Gospel (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) under a fourfold aspect (κατὰ Ματθαῖον, etc.), constitute, along with the Book of Acts (πράξεις τῶν ἀποστόλων), the historical records of the New Testament. The great leading idea which pervades this history, is the introduction of the kingdom of heaven (βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν), or its manifestation (at least, so far as its principles and power are concerned)—the revelation of God being completed by the coming of the God-Man, the Redeemer of the world, and His kingdom founded upon earth by the planting of His Church through the power of the Holy Ghost. Accordingly, this evangelical history forms the centre of all history, by concluding that of the ancient and commencing that of the new world. The difference between the historical books of the New Testament consists in this, that while the four Gospels record the history of the revelation of the kingdom of heaven, and of its foundation in the Person and the work of the Lord Jesus, the Book of Acts describes the royal administration of Christ as manifested in planting His kingdom in and for the world, by the power of the Holy Ghost working through the Apostles. The Gospels exhibit the kingdom of heaven in the Person of Christ; the Book of Acts, the Person of Christ in the kingdom of heaven; the former show us the kingdom of heaven upon the earth, yet above the earth, separate and distinct from all the world; the latter, the kingdom of heaven in the world—all its roots and fibres having taken hold upon the soil of earth. In the one case, we have the perfect revelation of God in the Spirit of Christ (the ἀποκάλυψις), in the other, by the Spirit of Christ (the φανέρωσις); in the one case, the descent of the heavenly Jerusalem upon the holy city, in the other, the spread of that heavenly kingdom from Jerusalem to Rome. The Gospels show us how Christ consecrated Himself for the world, and thereby reconciled it to God in that solemn judgment which the world pronounced upon itself; the Book of Acts teaches how Christ consecrated the world unto Himself, and thereby redeemed it. Yonder, the old era terminates, the principle of the new having appeared; here, the new era commences, the principle of the old having been mortified. I. The One Gospel in the Four Gospels Viewed as a literary production, the Gospel history exists in a fourfold form. But for the ancient, true, churchly view, this circumstance is altogether secondary to the fact that under this fourfold form we have the one Gospel of the Lord. Strictly speaking, therefore, it is not the Gospel of Matthew, etc., as we now are accustomed to say, but the Gospel according to Matthew, according to Mark, according to Luke, and according to John. It is this grand unity of character, of history, of doctrine, and of spirit, which gives to the Gospels their common designation. Though we have four human writings, they form only one Divine record of the Gospel. To doubt this essential unity, is to lose to the same extent the capacity for the churchly appreciation and even the Christian understanding of the Gospels. But even this does not exhaust the relation between the four Gospels and the one Evangel. Not only does the difference between the four Gospels not obscure the unity of the one Evangel; but this number four rather indicates the unfolding of the Evangel in all its fulness, so that it reflects the fourfold sway of God in the world, meets the fourfold wants and views of the world, and under a fourfold aspect displays the infinite riches of revelation. Irenæus (Advers. Hœres. iii. 1) connected the vision of the four cherubim in Ezekiel 1 with the four Gospels, and explained the symbolical meaning of that passage as applying to the distinctive peculiarities of the Evangelists. The idea was afterwards adopted and developed by the Fathers, and the four Gospels were compared with the vision of the four living creatures. Christian art has perpetuated the special arrangement of these symbols, proposed by Jerome, by assigning to Matthew the symbol of the man, to Mark that of the lion, to Luke that of the ox or sacrificial bullock, and to John that of the eagle. (Comp. Credner: Introd. to the N. T., p. 54.) Our own study of the Gospels would lead us to modify the interpretation of Jerome in so far as to regard Matthew under the symbol of the ox, and Luke under that of the man. (Leben Jesu, I. p. 156.) Stier has approved of this change. The first Gospel is preeminently that of history, and of the fulfilment of the Old Testament by the sacrificial sufferings and death of Christ and the redemption thus achieved. Hence the sacrificial bullock is the appropriate symbol of Matthew. The second Gospel presents to our minds the all-powerful revelation and working of Christ as direct from heaven, irrespectively of anything that preceded,—the completion of all former manifestations of the Deity. Symbol, the lion. The third Gospel is preeminently that of perfect humanity,—human mercy presented in the light of Divine grace, the transformation of all human kindness into Divine love. Symbol, the figure of a man. Lastly, the fourth Gospel exhibits the deep spiritual and eternal import of the history of Christ—the Divine element pervading and underlying its every phase,—and with it the transformation of all ideas, and of all ideals, in connection with Christ. Symbol, the eagle. To this rapid sketch we might add, that the essential harmony of these Gospels cannot be properly appreciated, unless, while recognising their intrinsic unity, we also keep in mind those peculiar characteristics of the Evangelists on which the differences in their narratives depend. Literature.34—On the Gospel Harmony compare the [German] works of Tholuck: Credibility of the Gospel History (against Strauss’s Life of Jesus); Ebrard: Criticism of the Evangelical History; Thiersch: On the Restoration of the historical standpoint, etc.; Lex: The Gospel Harmony on the Life of Jesus (Wiesbaden, 1855). Also the Lives of Jesus by Neander, Hase, Lange, and J. Zeller: Voices of the German Church on Strauss’s Life of Jesus. [Engl. works: Macknight, Campbell, Greswell, Robinson, Strong: on the Gospel Harmony; Westcott: Introduction to the Study of the Gospels (1862); Ebrard: The Gospel History (Edinb. trsl., 1863); Ellicott, und Andrews: The Life of Christ.—P. S.] II. The Book of Acts The Book of Acts may also be arranged under four sections. 1. We have the apostolic Church, as the preparation and foundation of the one primeval Church for all the world,—embracing all nations and tongues (Matthew 1, 2); 2. The Jewish Christian Church (with Jerusalem as its metropolis, and Peter as its representative), tending toward the Gentile world and the Gentile Church (Matthew 3-12); 3. The Gentile Christian Church (with Antioch as its metropolis, and Paul as its representative), tending toward the Jewish Christian Church (Matthew 13:1 to Matthew 25:12); 4. The removal of any temporary difference by a higher unity, commencing with the journey of the Apostle Paul to Rome, and in the church at Rome, where the Jewish Christian and the Gentile Christian elements appear combined. The modern assaults on the credibility of the Acts are refuted by Lechler: The Apostolic and post-Apostolic Age; Dietlein: Das Urchristenthum; Schaff and Lange: History of the Apostolic Age, and in part by Baumgarten in his Commentary on Acts. [Also in Wisseler: Chronology of the Apostolic Age, 1848.—P. S.] § 3 THE DIDACTIC PORTION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT, OR, THE EPISTLES “As the historical writings of the New Testament form a τετράμορφον εὐαγγέλιον, so a similar τετράμορφον (to use an ancient ecclesiastical expression), a τετράμορφος ἀπόστολος, might, so to speak, be traced in its parenetic portions” (Guericke, Isagogics, p. 216). This writer then proceeds to compare Matthew with James, Mark with Peter, Luke with Paul, and the Gospel with the Epistles of John. So also substantially Neander, Schmid, Schaff. The didactic portion of the New Testament consists of epistles addressed to particular churches (epistles in the narrower sense), and general or catholic epistles addressed to the whole Church, or to a larger section of it. (On the various interpretations of the word καθολικός, comp. the Introductions). The writings of Paul, although belonging to the former class, might also be termed catholic, as they successively extend over every department of Christian life. Thus 1. Eschatological Epistles: the two Epistles to the Thessalonians, which treat of the doctrine of the last things; 2. Ecclesiastic Epistles: the two Epistles to the Corinthians, which treat of the organization and discipline of the Church; 3. Soteriological Epistles: the Epistle to the Galatians, which treats of the doctrine of redemption, presenting the righteousness by faith in contrast with the spurious righteousness by works; while the Epistle to the Romans exhibits this same righteousness in its nature and effects, in opposition to sin and its consequences. 4. Christological Epistles: the Epistle to the Philippians, which shows the exaltation of Christ in and by His humiliation, forms a transition between the previous epistles and those which treat of the Person of Christ, more especially the Epistles to the Colossians, and to the Ephesians. The Epistle to the Colossians commences by presenting the eternal and inherent glory which Christ possessed before all time, and then presents Him as the sole object of our faith; while the Epistle to the Ephesians commences with the final glory of Christ at the termination of all time, and presents Him as the only goal of the Church, and as forming the grand bond of its unity. 5. Lastly, we have the Pastoral Epistles: among which we include, besides the two Epistles to Timothy and that to Titus, the Epistle to Philemon. The Epistle to the Hebrews must, on account of its general tenor, be classed with the Catholic Epistles, although, from its origin and character, it evidently claims kindred to those of Paul. We have thus three series of Catholic Epistles. The Epistle to the Hebrews, and that of James, express the relation in which the Church universal, but especially the Jewish Christian Church, stands to the Old Testament (to the ceremonial and the moral law), with the view of warning against apostasy and Judaizing tendencies. The three Epistles of John exhibit the relationship between the Church and the present state of things: 1. The fellowship of believers in Christ; 2. The proper limits of that fellowship,—the necessity of avoiding heretics; 3. The proper extent of that fellowship,—avoiding a spirit of separatism. Lastly, the Epistles of Peter and of Jude treat mainly of the relationship of the Church to the future. § 4 THE PROPHETIC PORTION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT The Book of Revelation contains a prophetic description of the second advent of the Lord, and of the manifestation of His new creation and the transformation of the world, which is to be brought about by a series of great conflicts and triumphs of Christ over Antichrist and over the world. The description of this new work of creation opens with the Sabbath of redemption (hence the prophet has his vision on the Lord’s Day), and extends to the eternal Sabbath of final completion. Accordingly, we also have the sacred number seven, seven times repeated—the seven churches, the seven seals, the seven trumpets, the seven thunders, the seven vials, and the seven heads of Antichrist. At the close, we have the manifestation of the seven Spirits of God—who throughout have guided the struggle (Matthew 1)—in the appearance of Christ and the transformation of the world: a new genesis, by which the Bible at its conclusion points back to its commencement, showing how final and perfect fulfilment had now been attained. THIRD SECTION GENERAL HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION ___________ § 1 THE PLACE OF HOMILETICS One of the main duties of the pastoral office is preaching, as this work is more clearly defined by practical theology. The latter science, however, embraces more than that special department. It gives the theory of ecclesiastical life and Christian fellowship, and of its cultivation, or of edification, and treats, according to the teaching of Paul (1 Corinthians 12:4-6),—1. Of the Charismata in the Church; 2. of ecclesiastical offices; 3. of ecclesiastical functions. Among these, public worship occupies the most prominent place; and again, in public worship the preaching of the word, for which homiletics supplies the rules. Public worship is the real (not symbolical) and direct outward manifestation of the life of the Church in Christ its Head; while, at the same time, it also serves to deepen and to extend that life. The former of these objects is attained more especially by what may be designated the liturgical services, or prayer and praise, while the latter is aimed at by means of the sermon. Based upon the eternal Word of God, and derived from it, the sermon is intended to advance the spiritual life of the Church in its individual members,—its lessons being always pointed with special reference to the present state and requirements of Christians, and to their ultimate calling. The rules for the proper discharge of this New Testament prophetical office are laid down in the science of Homiletics, or the sacred Art of Religious Discourse. § 2 CHARACTER AND PRINCIPLES OF HOMILETICS Christian Homiletics is the evangelical churchly application of Rhetorics to sacred purposes. The homiletic oration is addressed to the spiritual feelings and interests of men, in divine wisdom and simplicity, and with spiritual motives, in order either to enlist them for those spiritual purposes which form the one grand aim of man, or else to quicken their spiritual life. From this it follows, that we shall have to dispense with all the mere outward artifices of secular rhetorics—many of which are dishonest, and to present our theme in a simple, yet well arranged, lively and effective address. From this we may derive the following fundamental rules of Homiletics. 1. The sermon occupies a place intermediate between the eternal Word of God and the present requirements of the Church. On this ground, it must neither be merely a practical exposition of Scripture, nor yet merely a practical address adapted to the wants of the moment. It must combine these two elements, and at the same time serve to quicken, to sanctify, and to further develop the inner life, from the Word of God. 2. This application of the Word of God to the state and wants of the Church, is entrusted to the believing hearts of a properly trained ministry. Accordingly, the sermon must bear evidence both of personal piety and of intellectual individuality, or rather, this intellectual individuality must appear consecrated by devotion to the altar. 3. The sermon is addressed to a real church,—not a perfect church, but yet to a church. On this ground, it must proceed on the assumption that there are spiritual principles and sympathies to which it can appeal, whilst at the same time keeping in view and seeking to remove existing obstacles and objections. It must therefore avoid the extreme of being merely an appeal to the unconverted (a λόγος προτρεπτικός), while, on the other hand, it eschews mere indirect and pointless “speaking with tongues” (γένη γλωσσῶν). It must ascertain the exact spiritual state of the congregation, and, in accordance therewith, progress from conviction to joy and thanksgiving. Nor should it ever be forgotten that the sermon forms part of worship, and that, while in its character and purpose prophetic, it is also essentially devotional. Hence the sermon must be neither noisy nor drawling; noise in the pulpit runs counter to the dignity of worship, and to that of Christianity itself. Conversion is not to be confounded with nervous excitement; it implies a state when the soul is moved indeed to its inmost depths, yet calmed in Christ. As for drawling, it is entirely out of place in the pulpit. Singing should be left to the congregation; and the moment the sermon rises into musical festivity, it should close. 4. The sermon is addressed to a congregation, not to students. Hence, it must be popular, clear, pointed, and practical,—avoiding obscurity, confusion, and abstract propositions. On the other hand, it must be simple, direct, lively, yet sufficiently dignified. It must have sprung from prayer and meditation, from communion with the Lord and with His Word, and from deep sympathy with the spiritual state and the wants of the congregation. 5. The sermon is addressed to an evangelical church, i.e., a church called to the freedom of the Spirit. Hence it is to be a homily, in the ancient sense of the term i.e., an interchange between the mind of the preacher and the spiritual views of the congregation, which cannot be obtained by mere persuasion, far less by outward or authoritative injunction, excluding all liberty, but by communion and fellowship of life. The homily is, so to speak, query and reply. Yet it were a mistake to rebut every objection which might possibly be raised, instead of replying to the queries which would naturally arise in the mind of the audience. These enquiries must be answered not with the wisdom of man, but by the Word of God. 6. The sermon is an official address delivered to the Church in the name and by the authority of the Head of the Church. Hence its name, Preaching,—prœdicatio, declaration. Accordingly, the testimony of the truth must be supported by evidence; nor must it be of the nature of mere philosophical demonstration, which, of course, is incapable of being preached. Nor, lastly, would it be right to substitute for this testimony a mere asseveration: the testimony of the heart is to be combined with argument addressed to the mind. 7. The sermon is to edify. It is intended to build up the living temple with living stones; i. e., to promote spiritual communion, and thereby to quicken Christians. 8. The construction of the sermon depends upon an exercise of the mind, which in turn presupposes meditation, prayer, and theological and religious knowledge. For the regulation of this exercise of the mind, Homiletics lays down certain rules about the invention of the theme, its division, and the execution and delivery of the discourse itself. _____________ § 3 ECCLESIASTICAL AND MATERIAL HOMILETICS That which gives to the sermon its value, is the Word of the living God, which is laid down objectively in the Scriptures, and expressed and applied by the preacher in a subjective form. The central point of the Word of God, and its grand, all-embracing personality, is the eternal and historical Christ with His finished work. In the Person of the God-Man revelation and redemption are united, and revelation itself becomes redemption; there the Law and the Gospel meet, and the Law itself becomes Gospel; there doctrine and history meet, and doctrine itself becomes history; there the Church and the Scriptures meet, and the Church itself presents the epistles read and known of all men; there the Church and the believing heart meet, the Church being in Him of one heart and one soul; lastly, there justification and sanctification are united, and sanctification becomes a justification for the day of judgment. With all this we wish to impress upon our readers that the mystery of revelation must be preached, not as a matter of speculation, but with a view to its grand teleological object—the salvation of sinners; that the Old Testament must be explained according to the analogy of the New; that doctrine must be illustrated by life, and the confessions of the Church regulated by the Divine Scripture; that the Church must be built up by seeking the conversion and personal holiness of souls; and that justification by faith must ever be presented along with its final aim—the glorification of saints. The main point which the preacher should keep in view is, that the great object of Christianity is to bring us into personal relationship to the risen Saviour, that is, into blessed fellowship, through Him, with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The selection of a suitable subject for the sermon may be determined, 1, by the order of the Church universal, as it presents itself in the ecclesiastical year with its great festivals; 2, by the traditional or a new series of Gospels and Epistles for the day; 3, by the directions of the authorities of the particular national or state Churches; 4, by the order of Synods and consistories; 5, by the ordinary course of nature and its seasons; 6, by extraordinary events (casualia); 7, by the peculiar relation and condition of the pastor and the congregation; 8, by literary helps, concordances, commentaries, religious reading, etc., which facilitates the invention and preparation of matter for sermons.35 1. The Order of the Church General. The Church Year The Church year designates the Christian consecration of time to the service of God, whereby the cycle of seasons becomes the symbol and type of the cycle of the evangelical history, and of the great facts of redemption. The Greek and Roman Churches changed the whole secular time into a succession of holidays in the interest of an exclusive hierarchy and an external showy ceremonialism; and thus the holidays of saints gradually obscured and almost annihilated the holy day of the Lord, or the Christian sabbath. But the ancient Catholic and the evangelical Church year represents typically and really the sanctification of the year as a manifestation of, and preparation for, eternity. [The Church year, as observed in the evangelical churches of Germany and the Continent, in the Church of England, and their descendants in America, is a reformation, purification and simplification of the Catholic Church year; it omits most or all holidays of saints, martyrs and angels, and of the Virgin Mary, but retains the leading festivals which commemorate what God has done for us in the incarnation, the passion and death, the resurrection and ascension of Christ, and the outpouring of the Holy Ghost; thus making the festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost prominent, and restoring—at least in England and America—the weekly festival of the Christian Sabbath to its proper dignity and significance.—P. S.] Literature.—On the Christian Church year see the works of Fred. Strauss (Berlin, 1850), Lisco (Berlin, 1852), Alt (1851), Harnack (1854), Warner 1860), and Piper’s Evangelical Year-book, published annually at Berlin since 1850. [Also the Liturgical works and collections of Daniel, Mone, Neale, etc., the Liturgies of the Church of England, and the Lutheran Churches of Europe and America, Ebrard’s Ref. Kirchenbuch, the new Baden Liturgy, the Irvingite Liturgy, the new (provisional) Liturgy of the G. Ref. Church of the U. S. (Philad. 1857), Baird’s Collection of Presbyterian Liturgies (New York, 1859), etc., etc.—P. S.] 2. The Old and New Pericopes, or Scripture Lessons for the Sundays of the Year On the history of perikopes see the article Perikopen in the Univers. Theol. Dictionary of Danz; [also the more recent one in Herzog’s Real-Encyclopœdie, vol. xi., p. 373–399, written by E. Ranke.—P. S.] Ranke: Das kirchliche Perikopen-system. Berlin, 1847. Alt: Der christl. Cultus. Berlin, 1851, sqq., 3 vols. Lisco: Das christl. Kirchenjahr, 4th ed., Berlin, 1852. Bobertag: Das evangel. Kirchenjahr in sämmtlichen Perikopen. des N. T. Breslau, 1857. On modern selections of Scripture lessons: Ranke (Berlin, 1850), Suckow and Nitzsch (Bibl. Vorlesungen aus dem A. und N. T. Bonn, 1846). See the list of the old series of perikopes at the close of the gen. introduction. 3. National and State Churches These have appointed in different countries of Europe a festival of the Reformation. [In Germany it is celebrated October 31, the day when Luther affixed the 95 theses on the doors of the castle church at Wittenberg, in 1517.—P. S.] Also political festivals, [coronation of kings, commemoration of royal birthdays; in the Church of England, the commemoration of the death of King Charles I., and of the Gunpowder Plot,—now abolished and omitted from the Common-Prayer Book.—P. S.] National fast and humiliation days. [Thanksgiving days annually recommended by the Governors of the different States of the United States of America, especially in New England, and national thanksgiving, or fast days, recommended to the whole people by the President of the United States, e.g. by President Taylor, during the cholera in 1849, and several times by President Lincoln, during the civil war, especially on the 30th of April, 1863. But, owing to the separation of Church and State, Governors and Presidents cannot ordain and command, like European sovereigns, but simply recommend, the observance of Christian festivals. Nevertheless, such days are generally even better observed in America than in Europe, perhaps for the very reason that their observance is not made a matter of compulsion, but of freedom.—P. S.] 4. Provincial Synods [Denominations] and Local Congregations Missionary festivals, foreign and domestic. Laying of corner stones, and dedication of new churches, etc. Confirmations, communions, benedictions, solemnization of marriage, funerals. All these are not, strictly speaking, casualia, but occur in the ordinary course of religious and congregational life. 5. Churchly Festivals of the Natural Seasons New Year. Spring festival. Harvest festival. Sylvester, (close of the year, December 31). 6. Extraordinary Events of Nature and of History (Casualia) Extraordinary days of humiliation and prayer, during seasons of pestilence, famine, and war (Comp. above sub No. 3), or of thanksgiving after the return of peace or some great national deliverance. 7. Pastoralia Ordination—, installation—sermons. Introductory and valedictory sermons. [Opening sermons at Classical and Synodical meetings, diocesan and general Conventions, Centenary and other commemorative discourses.—P. S.] 8. Homiletical Helps 1. Concordances, verbal or real, or both, by Wichmann (1782), Schott (1827), Hauff (1828), Büchner (1776), continued and improved by Hübner (1837 and often), Bernhard (1850). [All these works are German.] Greek concordance by H. Bruder: Ταμεῖον τῶν τῆς καινῆς διαθήκης λέξεων. Lips., 1842. [Based upon an older work of Erasmus Schmid; contains all the words of the Greek N. T. in alphabetical order with the passages where they occur; invaluable for reference.—P. S.] Hebrew concordance by Jul. Fürst: Concordantiœ libror. V. T. Lips., 1840. [Based upon Joh. Buxtorf, and as valuable for the Hebrew, as Bruder for the Greek T.—English Concordances: Alex. Cruden: A complete Concordance to the Holy Scriptures of the O. and N. Test., first published in London, 1731, and often since, both in England, Scotland and America, in full and in abridged forms. Also: The Englishman’s Greek Concordance of the New Testament, publ. by S. Bagster, London, and republ. by Harper & Br., New York, 1855,—a useful adaptation of Schmid’s Greek Concordance to the study of the English Bible.—The Englishman’s Hebrew and Chaldee Concordance of the Old Test., etc., Lond. (Longman, Green, Brown, and Longmans), 1843, 2 vols.,—an equal adaptation of Buxtorf-Fürst to the English Bible.—P. S.] 2. Lists of Texts. Schuler: Repertorium biblischer Texte und Ideen für Casual-Predigten und Reden. Halle, 1820. Haupt: Bibl. Casualtext-Lexicon, 1826. [There are a number of English works of the kind with or without skeletons of sermons; but I have none within reach, and cannot now find their titles.—P. S.] 3. Materials. Homiletical Bible-works and collections of Sermons and Preachers’ Manuals. See the list in Danz’s and Winer’s works on theol. Literature. Collection of Patristic sermons in Germ., trnsl. by Augusti (2 vols., 1830 and 1839). Luther’s Hauspostille and Kirchenpostille. The older German sermons of Scriver, H. Müller, Val. Herberger, Rieger, and the more recent sermons of Reinhatt, Dräseke, Harms, Schleiermacher, Nitzsch, Fr. Strauss [court chaplain at Berlin, died 1863], Tholuck, Jul. Müller, G. Dan. and Fr. W. Krummacher, Ludw. and Wm. Hofacker [brothers], Kapff [of Stutgart], Schenkel [of Heidelberg], Beck [of Tübingen], Steinmeyer, W. Hoffmann [both of Berlin], Stier, Liebner, van Osterzee [of Rotterdam, now of Utrecht], and many others.—[The best English pulpit orators are Jeremy Taylor, Rbt. South, Isaac Barrow, Jos. Butler, Tillotson, Whitefield, John Wesley, among the older, and Edward Irving, Melville, Robt. Hall, Chalmers, Guthrie, Caird, Hare, Trench, Archer Butler, Spurgeon, among the more recent. Of American preachers we mention Jonathan Edwards, Sam. Davies, John M. Mason, Bethune, Alexander (father and two sons) G. Spring, Skinner, Stockton, Durbin, Wayland, Lyman Beecher, Park, Bushnell, Phelps, H. Ward Beecher, etc., etc. The French pulpit is best represented by Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Massuet, among the Roman Catholics, and Saurin, Adolf Monod, and Vinet, among the Reformed.—P. S.]36 § 4 PASTORAL OR FORMAL HOMILETICS Finding of the Subject.—This evidently depends on the above-mentioned traditions of the church year, etc., and on circumstances which cannot be prescribed or induced from without. Standing between the Word of God and the special wants of his congregation, the minister must choose his theme according to his spiritual perception and peculiar disposition at the time. However obvious in the circumstances a text may appear, yet the theme is always a discovery, or rather a gift from the Lord, a message to the Church, which can only be obtained or understood by prayer and meditation, by inward labor and spiritual meditation. Division.—The sermon itself is the organic and artistic unfolding of the theme, showing the living connection between the text and the peculiar wants and circumstances of the congregation. The theme of the discourse constitutes the fundamental idea of the sermon, and, accordingly, must pervade the whole. It is generally expressed in a short, definite proposition (which accordingly is frequently called the theme). The theme must embody both the cause and the object of the discourse; i.e., it must have a divine basis, and at the same time a divine aim, although, in the proposition, either the cause or the object may be more prominently brought forward. The different parts of the sermon naturally flow from the theme. It is the object of the introduction to prepare the audience for the theme. Again, the subject must be presented in a lucid manner. This is the object of the proposition and of the division. The execution aims at presenting the theme in all its fulness. Lastly, the subject is summed up and applied in the conclusion. The general object and benefit of the delivery is, that in it the living truth is directly communicated to the living soul. The homily, in the narrower sense (or the familiar expository lecture), differs from the sermon, in that it follows not so much the logical order of the theme, as the order of the text, which in this case is generally a larger portion of Scripture. In the sermon, the main contents of the text are compressed and expressed in the theme and in its proposition, and afterward systematically expounded in the various parts of the discourse. The distinction commonly made, of analytical and synthetical discourses, is apt to mislead. Even the most analytical homily must be one in its idea and aim, otherwise it degenerates into a mere accidental exposition; while the so-called synthetic or systematic sermon also must ever unfold the teaching of the word, if it is to be a sermon, and not merely a religious address. As intermediate between the homily and the sermon, we may mention those compositions in which the two elements are combined, homiletic sermons and systematic homilies. The theme must be expressed in the proposition, briefly, clearly, strikingly, yet simply and not artificially. According to the text, or the circumstances of the case, or the state of the audience or of the speaker, it may be expressed either in a positive sentence, or in the form of a query, or of an inscription; in which latter case it resembles more closely the ancient homily, or the mental interchange between the congregation and the preacher. Uniformity in presenting the subject would indicate a want of living interchange of thought with the people—a kind of dead scholasticism and formalism, unsuited to the pulpit. The same remark holds true in reference to the division, which must not be determined simply according to the syntactic arrangement of the sentence, but flow from the subject by an interchange of thought and feeling between the preacher and the hearers. The division of the sermon will therefore vary with our varying aim. Still, it is always necessary to observe logical order, which may be expressed in the following rules. The division must, 1, embrace no more than the theme; 2, it must exhaust the theme; 3, it must arrange it according to its essential synthetic parts; 4, it must express the regular progress of these parts, from the cause to the final object, from the ἀρχή to the τέλος . Execution.—The same rules are here to be observed. The subject must be properly grouped, without, however, allowing this arrangement to appear too prominently. So far as style is concerned it behoves us to remember that ours is sacred oratory, and that the effects aimed at are spiritual in their nature. Accordingly, we must equally avoid the extreme of vulgar familiarity, and that of philosophic pomposity or of flowery poetry. Delivery.—Here also art comes into play. The delivery of the discourse, in reference both to what is heard and what is seen (declamation and action), must not be rude nor unstudied. On the other hand, it must be free from extravagance or affectation. It must be natural, in the sense of corresponding to and expressing the subject treated, and yet distinctive, according to the individuality of the preacher, always bearing in mind that he is but the minister of the word. Literature.37—The principal writers on Practical Theology are Baxter, Burk, Schwarz, Köster, Marheineke, Hüffell, Harms, Gaupp, Nitzsch, Schleiermacher, Moll, Ebrard. The chief works on Homiletics are those of Schott [translated in part by Dr. Park in earlier vols. of the Bibliotheca Sacra.—P. S.], Theremin [trsl. by Dr. Shedd.—P. S.], Stier, Alex. Schweizer, Palmer, Baur, Vinet [trsl. by Dr. Skinner.—P. S.]. On the History of Pulpit Eloquence, we refer to the works of Schuler, Ammon, Schmidt, Paniel, and Lentz, also Beyer: Das Wesen per christl. Predigt, 1861, and Kirsch: Die populäre Predigt, 1861. [Comp. Henry C. Fish: History and Repository of Pulpit Eloquence (a collection of the masterpieces of the greatest preachers of different ages and denominations, with biographical sketches, and a masterly introductory essay by Dr. Park, of Andover), New York, 1857, 3 vols.—P. S.] FOURTH SECTION HOMILETICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT _____________ The rules which we have already given apply specially to the homiletical treatment of the New Testament. It may be considered a mark of progress, that in our days, more than in the ancient Church, the New Testament is chosen as the subject of exposition; although, on the other hand, Socinian and Rationalistic views may have led to a depreciation of the Old Testament. In opposition to any such tendency, it is sufficient to remark, that the Apostles themselves based their teaching upon the Old Testament, and that the saying of Paul, in 2 Timothy 3:16, applies to all times. Deeper and more spiritual views of the New Testament as the fulfilment of the Old, and that of all prophecies of creation and of ancient history, will lead us, in expounding the New Testament, ever to refer to the Old, and thus to enrich and explain, to enlarge and to quicken, our addresses. The point to be always kept in mind is this, that in Christ alone is all fulness. Literature.38—1. Homiletical and Practical Commentaries on the New Testament. C. H. Rieger: Betrachtungen über das N. T. zum Wachsthum in der Gnade und Erkenntniss Jesu Christi. Tübingen, 1828, 2 vols. Heubner: Praktische Erklärung des N. T. Potsdam, 1860, sqq. Besser: Bibelstunden. Halle, 1854, sqq. Mad. Guyon: La Ste. Bible, avec des explications. Amsterd., 1713–’15, 20 vols. Also the commentaries of Bengel, Bogatzky, Gossner. [The best English commentators for homiletical and practical use are Henry, Scott, Gill, Doddridge, Burkitt, Barnes (Hodge on the Romans). Comp. also David Brown and others: A Commentary, Critical, Experimental, and Practical, on the Old and New Testaments. Glasgow and London, 1863 sqq.—P. S.] 2. Expositions of the Pericopes, or Gospels and Epistles for the year. A large number of German sermon books of Herberger, Rambach, Harms, Stier, the two Hofackers, Kapff, Hirscher (R. Cath.), Lisco, etc. Appendix.—Table of the Ancient Scripture Lessons, or Gospels and Epistles for the Sundays of the Year.39 The Gospels. The Epistles. The Gospels. The Epistles. 1. Adveut. Matthew 21:1-9. Romans 13:11-14. 1. Pentecost. John 14:23-31. Acts 2:1-13. 2. Adveut. Luke 21:25-36. Romans 15:4-13. 2. Pentecost. John 3:16-21. Acts 10:42-46. 3. Adveut. Matthew 11:2-10. 1 Corinthians 4:1-5. 3. Pentecost. John 10:1-11. Acts 8:14-17. 4. Adveut. John 1:19-28. Php 4:4-7. Trinity Sunday. John 3:1-15. Romans 11:33-36. 1. Christmas. Luke 2:1-14. Titus 2:11-14. (Isaiah 9:2-7.) 1. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 16:19-31. 1 John 4:16-21. 2. Christmas. Luke 2:15-40. Titus 3:4-7. 2. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 14:16-24. 1 John 3:13-18. (St Stephen’s Day) Matthew 23:34-39. Acts 6:8 to Acts 7:2. 3. Christmas. John 1:1-14. Hebrews 1:1-12. 3. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 15:1-10. 1 Peter 5:6-11. (St. John’s Day). John 21:20-24. 1 John 1 Sunday after Christmas. Luke 2:33-40. Galatians 4:1-7. 4. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 6:36-42. Romans 8:18-23. New Year’s Day; Circumcision. Luke 2:21. Galatians 3:23-29. 5. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 5:1-11. 1 Peter 3:8-15. Sunday after New Year. Matthew 2:13-23. 1 Peter 4:12-19. 6. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 5:20-26. Romans 6:3-11. Epiphany. Matthew 2:1-12. Isaiah 60:1-6. 7. Sunday after Trinity. Mark 8:1-9. Romans 6:19-23. 1. Sunday after Epiphany. Luke 2:41-52. Romans 12:1-6. 8. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 7:15-23. Romans 8:12-17. 2. Sunday after Epiphany. John 2:1-11. Romans 12:7-16. 9. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 16:1-9. 1 Corinthians 10:6-13. 3. Sunday after Epiphany. Matthew 8:1-13. Romans 12:17-21. 10. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 19:41-48. 1 Corinthians 12:1-11. 4. Sunday after Epiphany. Matthew 8:23-27. Romans 13:8-10. 11. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 18:9-14. 1 Corinthians 15:1-10. 5. Sunday after Epiphany. Matthew 13:24-30. Colossians 3:12-17. 12. Sunday after Trinity. Mark 7:31-37. 2 Corinthians 3:4-11. 6. Sunday after Epiphany. Matthew 17:1-9. 2 Peter 1:16-21. 13. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 10:23-37. Galatians 3:15-22. Septuagesima. Matthew 20:1-16. 1 Corinthians 9:24 to 1 Corinthians 10:5. 14. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 17:11-19. Galatians 5:16-24. Sexagesima. Luke 8:4-15. 2 Corinthians 11:19 to 2 Corinthians 12:9. 15. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 6:24-34. Galatians 5:25 to Galatians 6:10. Estomihit.40 Luke 18:31-43. 1 Corinthians 13 16. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 7:11-17. Ephesians 3:13-21. Invocavit. Matthew 4:1-11. 2 Corinthians 6:1-10. 17. Sunday after Trinity. Luke 14:1-11. Ephesians 4:1-6. Reminiscere. Matthew 15:21-28. 1 Thessalonians 4:1-7. 18. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 22:34-46. 1 Corinthians 1:4-9. Oculi. Luke 11:14-28. Ephesians 5:1-9. 19. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 9:1-8. Ephesians 4:22-28. Lætare. John 6:1-15. Galatians 4:21-31. 20. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 22:1-14. Ephesians 5:15-21. Judica. John 8:46-59. Hebrews 9:11-15. 21. Sunday after Trinity. John 4:47-54. Ephesians 6:10-17. Palm Sunday. Matthew 21:1-9. Php 2:5-11. 22. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 18:23-35. Php 1:3-11. Mounday Thursd’y John 13:1-15. 1 Corinthians 11:23-32. 23. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 22:15-22. Php 3:17-21. Good Friday. History of the Passion. Isaiah 53 24. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 9:18-26. Colossians 1:9-14. 1. Easter. Mark 16:1-8. 1 Corinthians 5:6-8. 25. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 24:15-28. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. 2. Easter. Luke 24:13-35. Acts 10:34-41. 26. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 25:31-46. 2 Peter 3:3-14. 3. Easter. Luke 24:36-47. Acts 13:26-33. 27. Sunday after Trinity. Matthew 25:1-13. 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11. 1. Sunday after Easter (Quasimodog.) John 20:19-31. 1 John 5:4-10. 2. Sunday after Easter (Miser. Dom.) John 10:12-16. 1 Peter 2:21-25. 3. Sunday after Easter (Jubilate) John 16:16-23. 1 Peter 2:11-20. 4. Sunday after Easter (Cantate) John 16:5-15. James 1:16-21. 5. Sunday after Easter (Rogate). John 16:23-30. James 1:22-27. Ascension Day. Mark 16:14-20. Acts 1:1-11. 6. Sunday after Easter (Exaudi). John 15:26 to John 16:4. 1 Peter 4:8-11. Footnotes: [25] [The Theol. and Homil. Commentary on the Old Testament which is included in the plan of Dr. Lange’s Bibel work, and will follow that on the New T.—P. S.] [26][This long list of books is reduced in the Edinb. trsl. to a few lines, without division of subjects.—P. S.] [27] Systemat. Entwicklung aller in der Dogmatik vorkommenden Begriffo. [28] Comp. Lange’s Philosophische Dogmatik, p. 540 sqq. [29] [Dr. Lange’s distinction between untergeordnet, überqeordnet, gleichgeordnet, and beigeordnet cannot be fully rendered, but is more clearly expressed above than in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [30] [Dr. Lange uses here the unusual term: geisthaft, as opposed to leibhaft, and with a shade of difference from geistig or intellectual, geistlich or spiritual, and geisterhaft or ghost-like. The antithesis is dear enough.—P. S.] [31] [This whole section is omitted in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [32][Der schreibkundigste, the best penman. The Edinb. trsl. mistakes the sense in rendering this: the best educated. Dr. Lange refers simply to the mechanism of writing, in which Matthew, as a former collector of customs, by constant practice, had acquired more case and skill than the other Apostles, who were fishermen. As to natural talent and education, Peter, Paul, and John were undoubtedly his superiors. Luke also had more learning, being a physician by profession, and a superior Greek scholar.—P. S.] [33] [The chronological dates assigned to the apostolic writings by Dr. Lange slightly differ in three or four instances from those adopted in my History of the Apostolic Church. Of some books it is impossible accurately to ascertain the time of composition.—P. S.] [34][Omitted in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [35] [This last and all the following sections from 1–8 till § 4, are omitted in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [36] [We add a more complete list of distinguished deceased American preachers, selected almost entirely from Dr. W. B. Sprague’s Annals of the American Pulpit, arranged by denominations and in chronological order. The list is, of course, very incomplete, and a number of very eloquent and useful men are omitted, because they published nothing, or were poorly educated. The most eloquent preachers in the list are put in italics; those marked (*) have left behind them one or more volumes of sermons; those marked (†) have left nothing except in pamphlet form.—P. S.] Congregational (Trinitarian). * Thomas Hooker Died, 1647. * Benjamin Wadsworth Died, 1737. * Benjamin Coleman, D. D. Died, 1747. * Jonathan Edwards Died, 1758. † John Hooker Died, 1777. † Samuel Cooper, D. D. Died, 1783. † Joseph Bellamy, D. D. Died, 1790. † Peter Thatcher, D. D Died, 1802. * Charles Backus, D. D Died, 1803. * David Tappan, D. D . Died, 1803. * Nathan Strong, D. D Died, 1816. * Timothy Dwight, D. D. Died, 1817. * Jesse Appleton, D. D Died, 1819. † Samuel Spring, D. D. Died, 1819. * Joseph Lathrop, D. D. Died, 1820. * Samuel Worcester, D. D. Died, 1821. * David Osgood, D. D. Died, 1822. * Edward Payson, D. D. Died, 1827. * Ebenezer Porter, D. D. Died, 1834. * Nathaniel Emmons, D. D. Died, 1840. † Leonard Woods, D. D. Died, 1854. * Joshua Bates, D. D. Died, 1854. * Lyman Beecher, D. D. Died, 1863. Presbyterian. * Jonathan Dickinson. Died, 1747. † Aaron Burr. Died, 1757. * Samuel Davies. Died, 1761. * Gilbert Tennent. Died, 1764. † Samuel Finley, D. D. Died, 1766. * Jonathan Parsons. Died, 1776. * John Witherspoon, D. D. Died, 1794. † Samuel Büell, D. D. Died, 1798. † John Blair Smith, D. D. Died, 1799. † John Blair Linn, D. D. Died, 1804. * Samuel Stanhope Smith, D. D., LL. D. Died, 1819. * Sylvester Larned. Died, 1820. * John B. Romeyn, D. D. Died, 1825. * John Mitchell Mason, D. D. Died, 1829. † John Holt Rice, D. D. Died, 1831. * William Nevins, D. D. Died, 1835. * Edward Dorr Griffin, D. D. Died, 1837. * Daniel A. Clark. Died, 1840. † John Breckenridge, D. D. Died, 1841. * James Richards, D. D. Died, 1843. * Ashbel Green, D. D . Died, 1848. † Samuel Miller, D. D. Died, 1850. * Archibald Alexander, D. D. Died, 1851. * Erskine Mason, D. D. Died, 1851. * Ichabod Smith Spencer, D. D. Died, 1854. * Philip Lindsley, D. D. Died, 1855. * James W. Alexander, D. D. Died, 1859. † Nicholas Murray, D. D. Died, 1861. * Jos. Addison Alexander, D. D. Died, 1860. Episcopalian. † Samuel Johnson, D. D. Died, 1772. * Rt. Rev. Samuel Seabury, D. D. Died, 1796. † Rt. Rev. John Henry Hobart, D. D. Died, 1830. * Gregory Townsend Bedell, D. D. Died, 1834. * Rt. Rev. William White, D. D. Died, 1836. † Samuel Farmar Jarvis, D. D., LL. D. Died, 1851. Baptist. * Samuel Stillman, D. D. Died, 1807. * Jonathan Maxcy, D. D. Died, 1820. † Richard Furman, D. D. Died, 1825. † Thomas Baldwin, D. D. Died, 1826. † William Staughton, D. D. Died, 1829. * William Theophilus Brantley, D. D. Died, 1845. * Wm. Parkinson. Died, 1848. † Spencer H. Cone. Died, 1855. Methodist. * Thomas Coke, LL. D. Died, 1804. † Francis Asbury. Died, 1816. * John Summerfield. Died, 1825. † Wilbur Fisk, D. D. Died, 1839. * Henry Bidleman Bascum, D. D. Died, 1850. * Stephen Olin, D. D., LL. D. Died, 1851. † Elijah Hedding, D. D. Died, 1852. * William Capers, D. D. Died, 1855. Dutch Reformed. * Theodore Jacobus Freling-huysen. Died, 1751. * William Linn, D. D. Died, 1808. † John N. Abeel, D. D. Died, 1812. † John Henry Livingston. D. D. Died, 1825. † John Melanchthon Bradford, D. D. Died, 1826. † John De Witt, D. D. Died, 1831. † Philip Milledoler, D. D. Died, 1852. † Jacob Brodhead, D. D. Died, 1855. German Reformed. † Michael Schlatter. Died, 1790. * Charles Becker, D. D. Died, 1818. * Augustus Rauch, P. D. Died, 1841. Evang. Lutheran. † Henry Melchior Mühlenberg. Died, 1787. † Justus Henry Christian Helmuch, D. D. Died, 1833. † Carl Rudolph Demme, D. D. Died, 1863. Reformed Presbyterian. † James McKinney. Died, 1804. * Alexander McLeod, D. D. Died, 1833. † Gilbert MeMasher, D. D. Died, 1854. Associate Reformed. * James Gray. D. D. Died. 1824. * Alexander Proud fit, D. D. Died, 1843. † J. M. Duncan, D. D. Died, 1851. Unitarian. * Jonathan Mayhew, D. D. Died, 1766. * John Clarke, D. D. Died, 1798. * Joseph Stephens Buck-minster. Died, 1812. * Samuel Cooper Thacher. Died, 1817. * Abiel Abbott, D. D. (of Beverly). Died, 1828. * James Freeman, D. D. Died, 1835. † John Thornton Kirkland, D. D. Died, 1840. * William Ellery Channing. D. D. Died, 1842. * Henry Ware, Jr. D. D. Died, 1843. * Francis William Pilt Greenwood, D. D. Died, 1843. * W. B. O. Peabody, D. D. Died, 1847. [37][Omitted in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [38][Omitted in the Edinb. trsl.—P. S.] [39] [This Table is likewise omitted in the Edb. trsl. But as it belongs to the homiletical character of this Commentary and is frequently referred to in the Homiletical sections, we have retained it with the exception of the Apostles Days, and Days of the Virgin Mary, which are very rarely observed among Protestants. The old series of Gospels and Epistles is essentially the same in the Rom. Cath., Luth., Episcop., and Germ. Reform. Churches with a few variations. Compare the Tables in the Episc. Common Prayer Book, in the Germ. Ref. Liturgy of 1857, pp. 30–33, and in many Lutheran and Reformed Liturgies and Hymn Books.—P. S.] [40] [This and the following Latin titles are the initial words of the introductory Latin Psalms appointed for these several Sundays in the Latin Church.—P. S.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 6: 01.5. POETICAL BOOKS INTRO WITH EMPHASIS ON JOB ======================================================================== PREFACE BY THE GENERAL EDITOR ____________ This volume embraces three distinct parts, as follows: 1. A General Introduction to the Poetical Books of the Old Testament, by the American Editor. It corresponds to a similar Introduction to the Prophetical Books. In its preparation I have chiefly consulted Lowth, Herder, and Ewald. I might have considerably enlarged it by introducing more specimens, and discussing minutely the difficult questions of Hebrew metre, rhyme, and versification generally, but the great extent of this volume suggested brevity. 2. A new Version of the Book of Job, with brief philological annotations, a preliminary essay, and a series of dissertations on the more difficult passages of the Book, by Prof. Tayler Lewis, who has made Job for years the object of special study. He discusses with rare ability and vigor its grand all-pervading Theism, its leading idea and aim, and finds in the humble and unconditional submission to the Divine will the final answer to Satan’s question in the Prologue: “Will a man serve God for naught?” The theistic relation of man, made in the image of God, so strongly expressed in Job and Genesis, contains “the power of an endless life” (Hebrews 7:16), though a future state is not dogmatically expressed. The veiled Shemitic idea has more moral power than the Greek or Vedaic conceptions of another life, though the latter seem so much more definite and mythologically clear. The Rhythmical Version aims at fidelity and conciseness, smoothness of measure, and harmony with the Hebrew accentuation and divisions. The Exegetical Notes pay special attention to the broken, ejaculatory or soliloquizing style of Job’s speeches, as distinguished from the less impassioned addresses of others; also to the passages on the great works of nature, and those questions in the latter part of Job which—according to Humboldt’s dictum—have not as yet been answered by science. (See especially notes on Job 28, 36-39) Of the twelve Excursuses on important sections, those on the famous passage Job 19:25 (pp. 173 sqq.), on the peculiar character of Job’s speeches (175), and on the Angel Intercessor (pp. 208 sqq.) deserve special attention. 3. The Commentary of Prof. Zoeckler, prepared for the Lange Series (Leipzig, 1872, pp. 321), translated by Dr. L. J. Evans, Professor of Hebrew and Old Testament Literature in Lane Theological Seminary, Cincinnati. Prof. Evans has given a faithful and idiomatic version of the German work, and has added valuable references, citations, and critical remarks, mostly in the exegetical part, where the general utility of the commentary seemed to require it. He has also, in the Introduction (pp. 252–262), ventured upon a new and ingenious suggestion in respect to the vexed question of the authorship, which deserves careful consideration. He ascribes it to king Hezekiah, and regards the beautiful ode after his recovery, which Isaiah has preserved (Job 38:9-20), as the key-note rather than the echo of Job. To the same age, though not the same author, Ewald, Renan and Merx assign the composition. But the conjectures of a post-Mosaic and post-Solomonic authorship leave it an inexplicable mystery that a pious Israelite enjoying the blessings of the theocracy and the temple service, should, in such a long poem on the highest theme, have purposely ignored the sacred laws and institutions of his Church, and gone back to a simpler and more primitive religion. Ancient literature furnishes no example of such a complete reproduction of a byegone age. For, whoever was the author, he certainly represents a patriarchal state of society and a religion of the order of Melchizedek, the cotemporary of Abraham, the mysterious ἱερεὺς τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ὑφίστου, βασιλεὺς, δικαιοσύνης, ἀπάτωρ, ἀμήτωρ, ἀγενεαλόγητος. But I cannot enter into details. The object of the Preface is simply to introduce the reader to the contents of this volume. The remaining parts of the Old Testament division of this Commentary are considerably advanced, even in anticipation of the German work, which has not yet reached Isaiah, the last historical Books, and the post-exilian Prophets. PHILIP SCHAFF New York, November 7, 1874. GENERAL INTRODUCTION to the POETICAL BOOKS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT by PHILIP SCHAFF __________ LITERATURE I. SPECIAL WORKS * Robert Lowth (son of William Lowth, who wrote a Commentary on the Prophets, born at Winchester, 1710, Prof. of Poetry, Oxford, since 1741, Bishop of London, since 1777, died 1787): De Sacra Poesi Hebræorum Prælectiones Academicæ, 1753; with copious notes by John David Michaelis (Prof. in Göttingen, d. 1791), Gött. 1770; anothered. with additional notes by Rosenmüller, Leipz. 1815; best Latin edition, with the additions of Michaelis, Rosenmüller, Richter, and Weiss, Oxon. 1828. English translation (“Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews, with the principal notes of Michaelis”) by G. Gregory, 1787; re-edited with improvements by Calvin E. Stowe, Andover, 1829. Comp. also Lowth’s preliminary dissertation in his translation of Isaiah (13th ed., Lond., 1842). Lowth’s work is the first earnest attempt at a learned and critical discussion of Hebrew Poetry. * J. Gottfried Herder(an almost universal genius and scholar, poet, historian, philosopher and theologian, born 1744 at Mohrungen in East Prussia, died as court chaplain at Weimar, 1803): Geist der Hebräischen Poesie. Dessau, 1782; 3d ed. by Justi, Leipz., 1825. Full of enthusiasm for the purity and sublimity of Hebrew poetry. English translation by President James Marsh, Burlington, Vt., 1833, 2 vols. Comp. also the first twelve Letters of Herder on the Study of Theology. L. T. Kosegarten:Ueber den Dichtergeist der heil. Schriftsteller und Jesu Chr., Greifsw., 1794. A. Gügler:Die heil. Kunst der Hebräer. Landshut, 1844. J. L. Saalschütz:Von der Form der hebräischen Poesie, Königsberg, 1825. M. Nicolas;Forme de la poesie hébraique, 1833. J. G. Wenrich:Commentatio de poeseos Hebraicæ atque Arabicæ origine, indole mutuoque consensu atque discrimine. Lips. 1843 (276 pp.). J. G. Sommer:Vom Reime in der hebr. Volks-poesie, in his Bibl. Abhandlungen, Bonn, 1846, pp. 85–92. H. Hupfeld:Rhythm and Accentuation in Hebrew Poetry, transl. by Prof. Charles M. Mead in the Andover ‘Bibliotheca Sacra’ for 1867. Isaac Taylor(Independent, a learned layman, d. 1865): The Spirit of the Hebrew Poetry, repub., New York, 1862 (with a biographical introduction by Dr. Wm. Adams). Ernst Meier:Geschichte der poetischen National-Literatur der Hebräer, Leipz., 1856. The same: Die Form der Hebräischen Poesie, Tübingen, 1853. Older essays on Hebrew poetry and music by Lowth (see above), Ebert, Gomarus, Schramm, Fleury, Dannhauer, Pfeiffer, Leyser, Le Clerc, Hare, and others may be found in the XXXIst and XXXIId vols. of Ugolini’s Thesaurus. II. ARTICLES IN CYCLOPÆDIAS G. B. Winer:Poesie hebräische in his Bibl.-Realwörterbuch, Vol. II., 264–268 (3d ed., 1849). Ed. Reuss:Hebräische Poesie, in Herzog’s Real-Encyclopædie, Vol. V., 598–608. W. A. Wright: Hebrew Poetry, in Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, (enlarged Am. ed.), Vol. III., pp. 2549–2561. Diestel:Dichtkunst der Hebräer, in Schenkel’s Bibellexicon, I., 607–615. III. COMMENTARIES AND ISAGOGICAL WORKS * H. Ewald:Die Dichter des Alten Bundes, in 3 Parts, Göttingen, 1854–67; 2d ed., 1865 sqq., Vol. I., pp. 300. Full of genius and independent research. E. Meier:Die poet. Bücher des A. T., Stuttgart, 1864. J. G. Vaihinger:Die dichterischen Schriften des A. B. Stuttg., 1856–’58. R. Weber:Die poet. Bücher des A. B. Stuttg., 1853–’60. Tayler Lewis:Metrical Version of Koheleth, with an introduction (in an Appendix to his translation of Lange on Koheleth, New York, 1870. The relevant sections in the Critical Introductions to the Old Testament by De Wette, Haevernick, Keil, Bleek, Horne, etc. § 1. Origin Of Poetry Poetry and music—the highest and most spiritual of the fine arts—are older than the human race; they hail from heaven and from a pre-historic age. The old legend traces the origin of music to the angels, and Raphael paints St. Cecilia, the patroness of church music, as faintly echoing the higher and sweeter chorus from the celestial world. The same applies to poetry, for music presupposes poetry and derives from it its inspiration. Christianity was sung into life by the anthem of the heavenly hosts, who existed before the hexaëmeron or certainly before man, and who are the agents of God in the realm of nature as well as in all great epochs of revelation. The same angels raised their anthems of glory and peace at the completion of the first creation by the hand of the Almighty. Then “The morning stars sang together, And all the sons of God shouted for joy.”1 As poetry and music began in heaven, so they will end in heaven, and constitute a rich fountain of joy to angels and sanctified men. § 2. Poetry And Religion Poetry and music came from the same God as religion itself, and are intended for the same holy end. They are the handmaids of religion, and the wings of devotion. Nothing can be more preposterous than to assume or establish an antagonism between them. The abuse can never set aside the right use. The best gifts of God are liable to the worst abuse. Some have the false notion that poetry is necessarily fictitious and antagonistic to truth. But poetry is the fittest expression of truth, its Sabbath dress, the silver picture of the golden apple, the ideal embodied in and shining through the real. “Let those,” says Lowth,2 “who affect to despise the Muses, cease to attempt, for the vices of a few, who may abuse the best of things, to bring into disrepute a most laudable talent. Let them cease to speak of that art as light and trifling in itself, to accuse it as profane or impious; that art which has been conceded to man by the favor of his Creator, and for the most sacred purposes; that art, consecrated by the authority of God Himself, and by His example in His most august ministrations.” Dean Stanley says:3 “There has always been in certain minds a repugnance to poetry, as inconsistent with the gravity of religious feeling. It has been sometimes thought that to speak of a book of the Bible as poetical, is a disparagement of it. It has been in many Churches thought that the more scholastic, dry, and prosaic the forms in which religious doctrine is thrown, the more faithfully is its substance represented. Of all human compositions, the most removed from poetry are the Decrees and Articles of Faith, in which the belief of Christendom has often been enshrined as in a sanctuary.4 To such sentiments the towering greatness of David, the acknowledged preëminence of the Psalter are constant rebukes. David, beyond king, soldier, or prophet, was the sweet singer of Israel. Had Raphael painted a picture of Hebrew as of European Poetry, David would have sate aloft at the summit of the Hebrew Parnassus, the Homer of Jewish song.” § 3. The Poetry Of The Bible More than one-third of the Old Testament is poetry. This fact is concealed, and much of the beauty of the Bible lost to many readers by the uniform printing of poetry and prose in our popular Bibles. The current versicular division is purely mechanical, and does not at all correspond to the metrical structure or the laws of Hebrew versification. The poetry of the Old Testament is contained in the Poetical Books, which in the Jewish canon are included among the Hagiographa or Holy Writings, namely, Job, the Psalms, the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon. Besides these the Lamentations of Jeremiah, and most of the Prophets are likewise poetic in sentiment and form; and a number of lyric songs, odes, and prophecies, are scattered through the historical books. The poetic sections of the New Testament are the Magnificat of the blessed Virgin, the Benedictus of Zachariah, the Gloria in Excelsis, the Nunc dimittis of Simeon, the Parables of our Lord, the Anthems of the Apocalypse, and several poetic quotations in the Epistles, e.g., 1 Timothy 3:16. Sometimes the prose of the Bible is equal to the best poetry, and blends truth and beauty in perfect harmony. It approaches also, in touching the highest themes, the rhythmical form of Hebrew poetry, and may be arranged according to the parallelism of members.5 Moses was a poet as well as a historian, and every prophet or seer is a poet, though not every poet a prophet. The same is true of the prose of the New Testament. We need only refer to the Beatitudes and the whole Sermon on the Mount, the Parables of our Lord, the Prologue of St. John, the seraphic description of love by St. Paul in the thirteenth chapter of second Corinthians, and his triumphant pæan at the close of the eighth chapter of Romans, which, in the opinion of Erasmus, surpasses the eloquence of Cicero.6 In this wider sense the Bible begins and ends with poetry. The retrospective vision of the first creation, and the prospective vision of the new heavens and the new earth are presented in language which rises to the summit of poetic beauty and power. There can be nothing more pregnant and sublime in thought, and at the same time more terse and classical in expression than the sentence of the Creator: “Let there be light! And there was light.” Is there a loftier and more inspiring conception of man than that with which the Bible introduces him into the world, as the very image and likeness of the infinite God? And the idea of a paradise of innocence, love and peace at the threshold of history is poetry as well as reality, casting its sunshine over the gloom of the fall, and opening the prospect of a future paradise regained. Then, passing from the first chapters of Genesis to the last of the Apocalypse, how tender and affecting is St. John’s description of the new Jerusalem—the inspiring theme of all the hymns of heavenly home-sickness from “Ad perennis vitæ fontem” to “Jerusalem the golden,” which have cheered so many weary pilgrims on their journey through the desert of life. Hebrew poetry has always been an essential part of Jewish and Christian worship. The Psalter was the first, and for many centuries the only hymn-book of the Church. It is the most fruitful source of Christian hymnody. Many of the finest English and German hymns are free reproductions of Hebrew psalms; the 23d Psalm alone has furnished the keynote to a large number of Christian hymns, and the 46th Psalm to Luther’s master-piece: “Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott.” As among other nations, so among the Jews, poetry was the oldest form of composition. It precedes prose, as youth precedes manhood, and as feeling and imagination are active before sober reflection and logical reasoning. Poetry and music were closely connected, and accompanied domestic and social life in seasons of joy and sorrow. They cheered the wedding, the harvest, and other feasts (Joshua 9:3; Jude. 21:19; Amos 6:5; Psalms 4:8). They celebrated victory after a battle, as the song of Moses, Exodus 15, and the song of Deborah, Judges 5; they greeted the victor on his return, 1 Samuel 18:8. The shepherd sung while watching his flock, the hunter in the pursuit of his prey. Maidens deplored the death of Jephthah’s daughter in songs (Judges 11:40), and David the death of Saul and Jonathan (2 Samuel 1:18), and afterwards Abner (2 Samuel 3:33). Love was the theme of a nobler inspiration than among the sensual Greeks, and the Song of Songs celebrates the Hebrew ideal of pure bridal love, as reflecting the love of Jehovah to His people, and prefiguring the union of Christ with His Church. § 4. The Spirit Of Hebrew Poetry In a wider sense all true poetry is inspired. The civilized nations of antiquity, particularly the Greeks, regarded it as a divine gift, and poets as prophets and intimate friends of the gods; and all the ceremonies, oracles and mysteries of their religion were clothed in poetic dress. There is, however, a two-fold inspiration, a Divine, and a Satanic; and the poetry which administers to pride and sensual passion, idolizes the creature, ridicules virtue, and makes vice attractive, is the product of the evil spirit. The poetry of the Hebrews is in the highest and best sense the poetry of inspiration and revelation. It is inspired by the genius of the true religion, and hence rises far above the religious poetry of the Hindoos, Parsees and Greeks, as the religion of revelation is above the religion of nature, and the God of the Bible above the idols of the heathen. It is the poetry of truth and holiness. It never administers to trifling vanities and lower passions; it is the chaste and spotless priestess at the altar. It reveals the mysteries of the divine will to man, and offers up man’s prayers and thanks to his Maker. It is consecrated to the glory of Jehovah and the moral perfection of man. The most obvious feature of Bible poetry is its intense Theism. The question of the existence of God is never raised, and an atheist—if there be one—is simply set down as a fool (Psalms 14). The Hebrew poet lives and moves in the idea of a living God, as a self-revealing, personal, almighty, holy, omniscient, all-pervading and merciful Being, and overflows with his adoration and praise. He sees and hears God in the works of creation, and in the events of history. Jehovah is to him the Maker and Preserver of all things. He shines in the firmament, He rides on the thunder-storm, He clothes the lilies, He feeds the ravens and young lions, and the cattle on a thousand hills, He gives rain and fruitful seasons. He is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, of Moses, David and the prophets, He dwells with Israel, He is their ever-present help and shield, their comfort and joy, He is just and holy in His judgments, good, merciful and true in all His dealings, He overrules even the wrath of man for His own glory and the good of His people. To this all-prevailing Theism corresponds the anthropology. Man is always represented under his most important moral and religious relations, in the state of innocence, in the terrible slavery of sin, or in the process of redemption and restoration to more than his original glory and dominion over the creation. Hebrew poetry reflects in fresh and life-like colors the working of God’s law and promise on the heart of the pious, and every state of his experience, the deep emotions of repentance and grief, faith and trust, gratitude and praise, hope and aspiration, love and peace. Another characteristic of Bible poetry is the childlike simplicity and naturalness with which it sets forth and brings home to the heart the sublimest ideas to readers of every grade of culture, who have a lively organ for religious truth.7 The scenery and style are thoroughly oriental and Hebrew, and yet they can be translated into every language without losing by the process—which cannot be said of any other poetry. Greek and Roman poetry have more art and variety, more elegance and finish, but no such popularity, catholicity and adaptability. The universal heart of humanity beats in the Hebrew poet. It is true, his experience falls far short of that of the Christian. Yet nearly every phase of Old Testament piety strikes a corresponding chord in the soul of the Christian; and such are the depths of the divine Spirit who guided the genius of the sacred singers that their words convey far more than they themselves were conscious of, and reach prophetically forward into the most distant future.8 All this applies more particularly to the Psalter, the holy of holies in Hebrew poetry. David, “the singer of Israel,” was placed by Providence in the different situations of shepherd, courtier, outlaw, warrior, conqueror, king, that he might the more vividly set forth Jehovah as the Good Shepherd, the ever-present Helper, the mighty Conqueror, the just and merciful Sovereign. He was open to all the emotions of friendship and love, generosity and mercy; he enjoyed the highest joys and honors; he suffered poverty, persecution and exile, the loss of the dearest friend, treason and rebellion from his own son. Even his changing moods and passions, his sins and crimes, which with their swift and fearful punishments form a domestic tragedy of rare terror and pathos, were overruled and turned into lessons of humility, comfort and gratitude. All this rich spiritual biography from his early youth to his old age, together with God’s merciful dealings with him, are written in his hymns, though with reference to his inward states of mind rather than his outward condition, so that readers of very different situation or position in life might yet be able to sympathize with the feelings and emotions expressed. His hymns give us a deeper glance into his inmost heart and his secret communion with God than the narrative of his life in the historical books. They are remarkable for simplicity, freshness, vivacity, warmth, depth and vigor of feeling, childlike tenderness and heroic faith, and the all-pervading fear and love of God. “In all his works,” says the author of Ecclesiasticus (40:8–12), he praised the Holy One most high with words of glory; with his whole heart he sang songs, and loved Him that made him. He set singers also before the altar, that by their voices they might make sweet melody and daily sing praises in their songs. He beautified their feasts and set in order the solemn times until the end, that they might praise His holy name, and that the temple might sound from morning. The Lord took away his sins and exalted his horn forever; He gave him a covenant of kings and the throne of glory in Israel.”9 This inseparable union with religion, with truth and holiness, gives to Hebrew poetry such an enduring charm and undying power for good in all ages and countries.10 It brings us into the immediate presence of the great Jehovah, it raises us above the miseries of earth, it dispels the clouds of darkness, it inspires, ennobles, purifies and imparts peace and joy, it gives us a foretaste of heaven itself. In this respect the poetry of the Bible is as far above classic poetry as the Bible itself is above all other books. Homer and Virgil dwindle into utter insignificance as compared with David and Asaph, if we look to the moral effect upon the heart and the life of their readers. The classic poets reach only a small and cultured class; but the singers of the Bible come home to men of every grade of education, every race and color, every condition of life, and every creed and sect. The Psalter is, as Luther calls it, “a manual of all the saints,” where each one finds the most truthful description of his own situation, especially in seasons of affliction. It has retained its hold upon the veneration and affections of pious Jews and Christians for these three thousand years, and is even now and will ever be more extensively used as a guide of private devotion and public worship than any other book. “When Christian Martyrs, and Scottish Covenanters in dens and caves of the earth, when French exiles and English fugitives in their hiding-places during the panic of revolution or of mutiny, received a special comfort from the Psalms, it was because they found themselves literally side by side with the author in the cavern of Adullam, or on the cliffs of Engedi, or beyond the Jordan, escaping from Saul or from Absalom, from the Philistines or from the Assyrians. When Burleigh or Locke seemed to find an echo in the Psalms to their own calm philosophy, it was because they were listening to the strains which had proceeded from the mouth or charmed the ear of the sagacious king or the thoughtful statesman of Judah. It has often been observed that the older we grow, the more interest the Psalms possess for us as individuals; and it may at most be said that by these multiplied associations, the older the human race grows, the more interest do they possess for mankind.”11 § 5. Poetic Merit In its religious character, as just described, lies the crowning excellence of the poetry of the Bible. The spiritual ideas are the main thing, and they rise in richness, purity, sublimity and universal importance immeasurably beyond the literature of all other nations of antiquity. But as to the artistic and æsthetic form, it is altogether subordinate to the contents, and held in subserviency to the lofty aim. Moses, Solomon, David, Isaiah, and the author of Job, possessed evidently the highest gifts of poetry, but they restrained them, lest human genius should outshine the Divine grace, or the silver pitcher be estimated above the golden apple. The poetry of the Bible, like the whole Bible, wears the garb of humility and condescends to men of low degree, in order to raise them up. It gives no encouragement to the idolatry of genius, and glorifies God alone. “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name give glory,” (Psalms 115:1) Hence an irreligious or immoral man is apt to be repelled by the Bible; he feels himself in an uncongenial atmosphere, and is made uneasy and uncomfortable by the rebukes of sin and the praise of a holy God. He will not have this book rule over him or disturb him in his worldly modes of thought and habits of life. Others are unable to divest themselves of early prejudices for classical models; they esteem external polish more highly than ideas, and can enjoy no poetry which is not cast in the Greek mould, and moves on in the regular flow of uniform metre and stanza. And yet these are no more essential to true poetry than the music of rhyme, which was unknown to Homer, Pindar, Sophocles, Virgil and Horace, and was even despised by Milton as “the invention of a barbarous age to set off wretched matter and lame metre, as the jingling sound of like endings trivial to all judicious cars and of no true musical delight.” This is indeed going to the opposite extreme; for although rhyme and even metre are by no means necessary, especially in the epos and drama, they yet belong to the perfection of some forms of lyric poetry, which is the twin sister of music. If we study the Bible poetry on its own ground, and with unclouded eyes, we may find in it forms of beauty as high and enduring as in that of any nation ancient or modern. Even its artless simplicity and naturalness are sometimes the highest triumph of art. Simplicity always enters into good taste. Those poems and songs which are the outgushing of the heart, without any show of artificial labor, are the most popular, and never lose their hold on the heart. We feel that we could have made them ourselves, and yet only a high order of genius could produce them. Where is there a nobler ode of liberty, of national deliverance and independence, than the Song of Moses on the overthrow of Pharaoh in the Red Sea (Exodus 15)? Where a grander panorama of creation than in the one hundred and fourth Psalm? Where a more charming and lovely pastoral than the twenty-third Psalm? Where such a high view of the dignity and destiny of man as in the eighth Psalm? Where a profounder sense of sin and divine forgiveness than in the thirty-second and fifty-first Psalms? Where such a truthful and over-powering description of the vanity of human life and the never-changing character of the holy and just, yet merciful God, as in the ninetieth Psalm, which has been styled “the most sublime of human compositions, the deepest in feeling, loftiest in theologic conception, the most magnificent in its imagery?” Where have the infinite greatness and goodness of God, His holiness, righteousness, long-suffering and mercy, the wonders of His government, and the feeling of dependence on Him, of joy and peace in Him, of gratitude for His blessings, of praise of His glory, found truer and fitter embodiment than in the Psalter and the Prophets? Where will you find such sweet, tender, delicate and exquisite expression of pure innocent love as in the Song of Songs, which sounds like the singing of birds in sunny May from the flowery fields and the tree of life in Paradise? Isaiah is one of the greatest of poets as well as of prophets, of an elevation, a richness, a compass, a power and comfort that are unequalled. No human genius ever soared so high as this evangelist of the old dispensation. Jeremiah, the prophet of sorrow and affliction, has furnished the richest supply of the language of holy grief in seasons of public calamity and distress from the destruction of Jerusalem down to the latest siege of Paris; and few works have done this work more effectively than his Lamentations. And what shall we say of the Book of Job, the Shakspeare in the Bible? Where are such bold and vivid descriptions of the wonders of nature, of the behemoth and leviathan, and of the war-horse “who paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength, who swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, who saith among the trumpets Ha, ha! and smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shout of war?” What can be finer than Job’s picture of wisdom, whose price is far above rubies? And what a wealth of comfort is in that wonderful passage, which inspired the sublimest solo in the sublimest musical composition, those words graven in the rock forever, where this holy outsider, this patriarchal sage and saint of the order of Melchisedec, expresses his faith and hope that his Redeemer liveth and will stand the last on the grave, and that he shall see Him with his own eyes on the morning of resurrection. The times for the depreciation of Bible poetry have passed. Many of the greatest scholars and poets, some of whom by no means in sympathy with its religious ideas, have done it full justice. I quote a few of them who represent different stand-points and nationalities. Henry Stephens, the greatest philologist of the sixteenth century, thought that there was nothing more poetic (ποιητικώτερον), nothing more musical (μουσικώτερον), nothing more thrilling (γοργώτερπν), nothing more full of lofty inspiration (διθυραμβικώτερον) than the Psalms of David. John Milton, notwithstanding his severe classic taste, judges: “There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion, no orations equal to those of the Prophets, and no politics like those which the Scriptures teach.” And as to the Psalms, he says: “Not in their divine arguments alone, but in the very critical art of composition, the Psalms may be easily made to appear over all the kinds of lyric poesy incomparable.” Sir William Jones: “I have regularly and attentively read the Holy Scriptures, and am of the opinion that this volume, independently of its divine origin, contains more true sublimity, more exquisite beauty, more important history and finer strains both of poetry and eloquence, than could be collected from all other books.” Sir D. K. Sandford: “In lyric flow and fire, in crushing force and majesty, the poetry of the ancient Scriptures is the most superb that ever burnt within the breast of man.” John von Müller, the German Tacitus: “There is nothing in Greece, nothing in Rome, nothing in all the West, like David, who selected the God of Israel to sing Him in higher strains than ever praised the gods of the Gentiles.” Herder, who was at home in the literature of all ages and countries, is full of enthusiastic admiration for the pure and sublime beauties of Hebrew poetry, as may be seen on almost every page of his celebrated work on the subject. He regards it as “the oldest, simplest, sublimest” of all poetry, and in the form of a dialogue between Alciphron and Eutyphron, after the Platonic fashion, he triumphantly vindicates its merits against all objections, and illustrates it with admirable translations of choice passages. Goethe pronounced the book of Ruth “the loveliest thing in the shape of an epic or idyl which has come down to us.” Alexander von Humboldt, in his “Cosmos,” (where the name of God scarcely occurs, except in an extract from the heathen Aristotle), praises the Hebrew description of nature as unrivalled, especially the 104th Psalm, as “presenting in itself a picture of the whole world.” “Nature,” he says, “is to the Hebrew poet not a self-dependent object, but a work of creation and order, the living expression of the omnipresence of the Divinity in the visible world.” Thomas Carlyle calls the book of Job, “apart from all theories about it, one of the grandest things ever written by man. A noble book! All men’s book! Such living likenesses were never since drawn. Sublime sorrow, sublime reconciliation; oldest choral melody, as of the heart of manhood; so soft and great as the summer midnight; as the world with its seas and stars. There is nothing written, I think, of equal literary merit.” Isaac Taylor: “The Hebrew writers as poets were masters of all the means and the resources, the powers and the stores, of the loftiest poetry, but subservient to a far loftier purpose than that which ever animates human genius.” Henry Ewald calls the old Hebrew poetry “unique in its kind and in many respects unsurpassed, because as to its contents it is the interpreter of those sublime religious thoughts which lived in Israel, and are found nowhere else in antiquity in such purity, vigor and durability, and as to its form it has a wonderful simplicity and naivete flowing from that sublimity of thought.” Dean Stanley: “The Psalms are beyond question poetical from first to last, and he will be a bold man who shall say that a book is less inspired, or less true, or less orthodox, or less Divine, because it is like the Psalms. The Prophet, in order to take root in the common life of the people, must become a Psalmist.” J. J. Stewart Perowne: “The very excellence of the Psalms is their universality. They spring from the deep fountains of the human heart, and God, in His providence, and by His Spirit, has so ordered it, that they should be for His Church an everlasting heritage. Hence they express the sorrows, the joys, the aspirations, the struggles, the victories, not of one man, but of all. And if we ask, How comes this to pass? the answer is not far to seek. One object is ever before the eyes and the heart of the Psalmist. All enemies, all distresses, all persecutions, all sins, are seen in the light of God. It is to Him that the cry goes up; it is to Him that the heart is laid bare; it is to Him that the thanksgiving is uttered. This it is which makes them so true, so precious, so universal. No surer proof of their inspiration can be given than this, that they are ‘not of an age but for all time,’ that the ripest Christian can use them in the fulness of his Christian manhood, though the words are the words of one who lived centuries before the coming of Christ in the flesh.” § 6. Different Kinds Of Hebrew Poetry Hebrew poetry may be divided into lyric didactic, prophetic, and dramatic. The first two are the prevailing forms. The third may be regarded as a branch of didactic poetry, or perhaps better, as a substitute for epic poetry. The fourth is not to be confounded with the Greek drama, and is in close connection either with the lyric or didactic. Hence many writers admit only these two.12 The absence of epic poetry in its proper sense is due to the fact that the revealed religion excludes mythology and hero-worship, which control this kind of poetry, and that it substitutes for them monotheism, which is inconsistent with any kind of falsehood and idolatry. The real hero, so to speak, of the history of revelation is Jehovah Himself, the only true and living God, to whom all glory is due. And so He appears in the prophetic writings. He is the one object of worship, praise and thanksgiving, but not the object of a narrative poem. He is the one sovereign actor, who in heaven originates and controls all events on earth, but not one among other actors, co-operating or conflicting with finite beings. Epic poetry reproduces historic facts at the expense of truth, and exalts its hero above merit. The Bible poetry never violates truth. There are, however, epic elements in several lyric poems which celebrate certain great events in Jewish history, as the Song of Moses, Exodus 15, and the Song of Deborah, Judges 5; although even here the lyric element preponderates, and the subjectivity of the poet is not lost in the objective event as in the genuine epos. The Book of Ruth has been called an epic by Göthe. The Prologue and Epilogue of Job are epic, and have a truly narrative and objective character; but they are only the framework of the poem itself, which is essentially didactic in dramatic form. In the apocryphal books the epic element appears in the book of Tobith and the book of Judith, which stand between narrative and fiction, and correspond to what we call romance or novel. § 7. Lyric Poetry Lyric poetry, or the poetry of feeling, is the oldest and predominant form of poetry among the Hebrew as all other Semitic nations. It is the easiest, the most natural, and the best adapted for devotion both private and public. It is closely connected with song, its twin sister. It wells up from the human heart, and gives utterance to its many strong and tender emotions of love and friendship, of joy and gladness, of grief and sorrow, of hope and desire, of gratitude and praise. Ewald happily describes it as “the daughter of the moment, of swift, rising, powerful feelings, of deep stirrings and fiery emotions of the soul.”13 Among the Greeks the epos appears first; but the older lyric effusions may have been lost. Among the Hindoos they are preserved in the Vedas. Lyric poetry is found among all nations which have a poetic literature; but epic poetry, at least in its fuller development, is not so general, and hence cannot be the primitive form. Lyric poetry contains the fruitful germ of all other kinds of poetry. When the poetic feeling is kindled by a great event in history, it expresses itself more or less epically, as in the battle and victory hymns of Moses and Deborah. When the poet desires to teach a great truth or practical lesson, he becomes didactic. When he exhibits his emotions in the form of action and real life, he approaches the drama. In like manner the lyric poetry may give rise to mixed forms which appear in the later stages of literature.14 The oldest specimen of lyric poetry is the song of Lamech to his two wives (Genesis 4:23). It has already the measured arrangement, alliteration and musical correspondence of Hebrew parallelism. It is a proud, fierce, defiant “sword-song,” commemorating in broken, fragmentary utterances the invention of weapons of brass and iron by his son Tubal Cain (i.e., lance-maker), and threatening vengeance: Adah and Zillah! hear my voice, Ye wives of Lamech, listen to my speech: For I have slain15 a man for wounding me, Even a young man for hurting me. Lo! Cain shall be avenged seven-fold, But Lamech seventy and seven-fold.16 Here we have the origin of secular poetry and music (for the other son of Lamech, Jubal, i.e., Harper, invented musical instruments), in connection with the progressive material civilization of the descendants of Cain. The other poetic remains of the ante-Mosaic age are the Prediction of Noah concerning his three sons (Genesis 9:25-27), and the death-chant of Jacob (Genesis 49:1-27); but these belong rather to prophetic poetry. In the Mosaic age we meet first with the song of deliverance which Moses sang with the children of Israel unto the Lord after the overthrow of Pharaoh’s hosts in the Red Sea (Exodus 15:1-19). It is the oldest specimen of a patriotic ode (from ὀείδειν, to sing), and may be called the national anthem, or the Te Deum of the Hebrews. It sounds through all the thanksgiving hymns of Israel, and is associated by the Apocalyptic Seer with the final triumph of the Church, when the saints shall sing “the song of Moses, and the song of the Lamb” (Revelation 15:3). Its style is archaic, simple and grand. It is arranged for antiphonal singing, chorus answering to chorus, and voice to voice; the maidens playing upon the timbrels. It is full of alliterations and rhymes which cannot be rendered, and hence it necessarily loses in any translation.17 I will sing unto Jehovah, For He hath triumphed gloriously: The horse and his rider Hath He thrown into the sea. Jehovah is my strength and song, And He is become my salvation. This is my God, and I will praise Him;18 My father’s God, and I will exalt Him. Jehovah is a man of war; Jehovah is His name. Pharaoh’s chariots and his hosts Hath He cast into the sea: And his chosen captains Are sunk in the Red Sea. The depths cover them. They went down to the bottom like a stone. Thy right hand, O Jehovah, glorious in power, Thy right hand, O Jehovah, dasheth in pieces the enemy. And in the greatness of Thy majesty Thou overturnest them that rise up against thee: Thou sendest forth Thy wrath, It consumeth them like stubble. And with the blast of Thy nostrils the waters were piled up. The floods stood upright as an heap. The depths were congealed in the heart of the sea. The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil, My soul shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, My hand shall destroy them. Thou didst blow with Thy wind, The sea covered them: They sank as lead in the mighty waters. Who is like unto Thee, O Jehovah, among the gods? Who is like Thee, glorious in holiness, Fearful in praises, doing wonders? Thou stretchedst out Thy right hand, The earth swallowed them. Thou in Thy mercy hast led the people Which Thou hast redeemed. Thou hast guided them in thy strength To thy holy habitation. The peoples have heard, they tremble:19 Pangs have taken hold on the inhabitants of Philistia. Then were the chiefs of Edom dismayed. The mighty men of Moab, trembling taketh hold upon them. All the inhabitants of Canaan are melted away; Terror and dread fall upon them. By the greatness of Thine arm they are as still as a stone; Till Thy people pass over, O Jehovah, Till the people pass over, Which Thou hast purchased. Thou shalt bring them in, And plant them in the mountain of Thine inheritance. The place, O Jehovah, which. Thou hast made for Thee to dwell in, The sanctuary, O Jehovah, which Thou hast established. Jehovah shall reign for ever and ever. Here the song ends, and what follows (ver. 19) is probably a brief recapitulation to fix the event in the memory: For the horses of Pharaoh went in with his chariots And with his horsemen into the sea, And Jehovah brought again the waters of the sea upon them; But the children of Israel walked on dry land In the midst of the sea. Moses wrote also that sublime farewell-song which celebrates Jehovah’s merciful dealings with Israel (Deuteronomy 32), the parting blessing of the twelve tribes (Deuteronomy 33), and the ninetieth Psalm, called “A Prayer of Moses, the man of God,” which sums up the spiritual experience of his long pilgrimage in the wilderness, and which proves its undying force at every death-bed and funeral service. In the book of Joshua (10:12, 13) there is a poetic quotation from “the Book of the Upright,” which was probably a collection of patriotic songs: “Sun, stand still upon Gibeon, And thou, moon, upon the valley of Ajalon!” And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed her course, Until the nation were avenged of their enemies. The song of Deborah (Judges 5.), from the heroic period of the Judges, eight centuries before Pindar, is a stirring battle-song full of fire and dithyrambic swing, and breathing the spirit of an age of disorder and tumult, when might was right.20 Another but very different specimen of female poetry is Hannah’s hymn of joy and gratitude when she dedicated her son Samuel, the last of the Judges, to the service of Jehovah (1 Samuel 2:1-10). It furnished the key-note to the Magnificat of the Virgin Mary after the miraculous conception. The reign of David was the golden age of lyric poetry. He was himself the prince of singers in Israel. His religious poetry is incorporated in the Psalter. Of his secular poetry the author of the Books of Samuel has preserved us two specimens, a brief stanza on the death of Abner, and his lament for the death of Saul and Jonathan (2 Samuel 1:19-27). The latter is a most pathetic and touching elegy full of the strength and tenderness of the love of friendship. His generosity in lamenting the death of his persecutor who stood in his way to the throne, enhances the beauty and effect of the elegy. Thy Glory, O Israel,21 is slain upon thy heights. (Chorus) How are the heroes fallen! Tell it not in Gath, Publish it not in the streets of Askelon; Lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, Lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. Ye mountains of Gilboa, no dew nor rains Come upon you, and ye fields of offerings.22 For there the shield of the hero is polluted,23 The shield of Saul not anointed with oil.24 From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the heroes, The bow of Jonathan turned not back, And the sword of Saul Returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan, lovely and pleasant in their lives, And in their death they are not divided. They were swifter than eagles, They were stronger than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, Who clothed you in purple with delight, Who put ornaments of gold Upon your apparel.25 (Chorus)How are the heroes fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, slain upon thy heights! I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, Very pleasant hast thou been unto me: Thy love to mo was wonderful, Passing the love of women.26 (Chorus)How are the heroes fallen,27 And the weapons of war28 perished. Lyric poetry flourished during the reigns of David and Solomon, then declined with the decline of the nation, and revived for a short period with the restoration of the temple and the theocracy, when the harps were taken from the willows to accompany again the songs of Zion. It is altogether improbable that the Psalter contains hymns of the Maccabæan age, as Hitzig conjectures. The canon was closed long before (B. C. 450).29 The Magnificat of the Virgin Mary, the Benedictus of Zacharias, and the Nunc dimittis of Simeon are the golden sunset of Hebrew psalmody, and the dawn of Christian hymnody. The various kinds of lyric poetry are designated by the following names, which occur in the titles of the Psalms:30 Shîr (Sept. ᾠδή), song for the voice alone. Mizmôr (Sept. ψαλμός), psalm, song of praise, with instrumental accompaniment (μέλος). Maschîl (συνέσεως, εἰς σύνεσιν), a skilfully constructed ode, a reflective, contemplative, didactic song. Michtham (στηλογραφία, or εἰς στηλογραφίαν, lit., song of inscription), a golden poem, or a song of mysterious, deep import. (Delitzsch: catch-word poem). Shiggaion, an excited, irregular, dithyrambic ode. Thehillah, a hymn of praise. The plural thehillîm is the Hebrew title of the Psalter. Thephillah, a prayer in song. (Psalms 17, 86, 90, 142, Habakkuk 3). Shîr jedîdoth, song of loves, erotic poem (Psalms 45). Shîr hamma’aloth (Sept. ᾠδὴ τῶν ἀνάβανμῶν, Vulg. canticum graduum, E. V. “song of degrees”), most probably a song of the goings up, i.e., pilgrim song for the journeys to the yearly festivals of Jerusalem. Kinah (θρῆνος), a lament, dirge, elegy.31 Here belong the laments of David for Saul and Jonathan, 2 Samuel 1:19-27, for Abner (2 Samuel 3:33-34), and for Absalom (2 Samuel 18:33), the psalms of mourning over the disasters of Judah, Psalms 49, 60, 73, 137), and the Lamentations of Jeremiah. The Psalter is the great depository of the religious lyric poetry of the Jewish Church, and the inexhaustible fountain of devotion for all ages. The titles are not original, but contain the ancient Jewish traditions more or less valuable concerning the authorship, historical occasion, musical character, liturgical use of the Psalms. Seventy-three poems are ascribed to David (לדוד);32 twelve to Asaph (לאסף), one of David’s musicians (Psalms 50, 73-83.); eleven or twelve to the sons of Korah, a family of priests and singers of the age of David Psalms 42-49, 84, 85, 87, 88); one to Heman the Ezrahite (88);33 one to Ethan the Ezrahite (89); two to Solomon (72, 127); one to Moses (90); while fifty are anonymous and hence called Orphan Psalms in the Talmud. The Septuagint assigns some of them to Jeremiah (137), Haggai and Zechariah (146, 147). The Psalter is divided into five books, and the close of each is indicated by a doxology and a double Amen. In this division several considerations seem to have been combined—authorship and chronology, liturgical use, the distinction of the divine names (Elohistic and Jehovistic Psalms), perhaps also the five-fold division of the Thorah (the Psalter being, as Delitzsch says, the subjective response or echo from the heart of Israel to the law of God). We have an analogy in Christian hymn- and tune-books, which combine the order of subjects and the order of the ecclesiastical year, modifying both by considerations of convenience, and often adding one or more appendixes. The five books represent the gradual growth of the collection till its completion after the exile, about the time of Ezra. The collection of first book, consisting chiefly of Psalms of David, may be traced to Solomon, who would naturally provide for the preservation of his father’s poetry, or, at all events, to King Hezekiah, who “commanded the Levites to sing praise unto the Lord with the words of David and of Asaph, the Seer” (2 Chron. 21:30; Prov. 35:1). If we regard chiefly the contents, we may divide the Psalms into Psalms of praise and adoration, Psalms of thanksgiving, Psalms of faith and hope under affliction,34 penitential Psalms, didactic Psalms, historic Psalms, Pilgrim Songs (120–136), prophetic or Messianic Psalms. But we cannot enter here into details, and refer to the full and able Introduction of Moll’s Commentary in this series. Before we leave lyric poetry, we must say a few words on the Lamentations (קִינוֹת, νρῆνοι, elegiæ) of Jeremiah—the most extensive elegy in the Bible. They are a funeral dirge of the theocracy and the holy city after its destruction by Nebuchadnezzar and the Chaldees, and give most pathetic utterance to the most intense grief. The first lines strike the key-note. Jerusalem is personified and bewailed as a solitary widow: (Aleph)How sitteth solitary The city once full of people! She has become as a widow! She that was great among the nations, A princess over the provinces, Has become subject to tribute. (Beth)She weepeth bitterly in the night, And her tears are upon her cheeks: She hath no comforter From among all her lovers: All her friends have turned traitors to her, They have become her enemies. * * * * * * * * * * * * * (Lamed)Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Behold and see, If there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, Which is inflicted on me, Wherewith Jehovah hath afflicted me In the day of His fierce anger. The ruin and desolation, the carnage and famine, the pollution of the temple, the desecration of the Sabbath, the massacre of the priests, the dragging of the chiefs into exile, and all the horrors and miseries of a long siege, contrasted with the remembrance of former glories and glad festivities, and intensified by the awful sense of Divine wrath, are drawn with life-like colors and form a picture of overwhelming calamity and sadness. “Every letter is written with a tear, every word is the sob of a broken heart!” Yet Jeremiah does not forget that the covenant of Jehovah with His people still stands. In the stormy sunset of the theocracy he beheld the dawn of a brighter day, and a new covenant written, not on tables of stone, but on the heart. The utterance of his grief, like the shedding of tears, was also a relief, and left his mind in a calmer and serener frame. Beginning with wailing and weeping, he ends with a question of hope, and with the prayer: Turn us, O Jehovah, and we shall turn; Renew our days of old! These Lamentations have done their work very effectually, and are doing it still. They have soothed the weary years of the Babylonian Exile, and after the return they have kept up the lively remembrance of the deepest humiliation and the judgments of a righteous God. On the ninth day of the month of Ab (July) they are read year after year with fasting and weeping by that remarkable people who are still wandering in exile over the face of the earth, finding a grave in many lands, a home in none. Among Christians the poem is best appreciated in times of private affliction and public calamity; a companion in mourning, it serves also as a book of comfort and consolation. The poetic structure of the Lamentations is the most artificial in the Bible. The first four chapters are alphabetically arranged, like the 119th and six other Psalms, and Proverbs 31:10-31. Every stanza begins with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in regular order; all the stanzas are nearly of the same length; each stanza has three nearly balanced clauses or members which together constitute one meaning; chaps. 1, 2 and 4 contain twenty-two stanzas each, according to the number of Hebrew letters; the third chapter has three alphabetic series, making sixty-six stanzas in all. Dante chose the terza rima for his vision of hell, purgatory, and paradise; Petrarca the complicated sonnet for the tender and passionate language of love. The author of Lamentations may have chosen this structure as a discipline and check upon the intensity of his sorrow—perhaps also as a help to the memory. Poems of this kind, once learnt, are not easily forgotten.35 § 8. Didactic Poetry Didactic poetry is the combined product of imagination and reflection. It seeks to instruct as well as to please. It is not simply the outpouring of subjective feeling which carries in it its own end and reward, but aims at an object beyond itself. It is the connecting link between pure poetry and philosophy. It supplies among the Shemitic nations the place of ethics, with this difference, that it omits the reasoning and argumentative process, and gives only the results of observation and reflection in a pleasing, mostly proverbial, sententious style, which sticks to the memory. It is laid down in the Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. Many Psalms also are didactic (1, 19, 37, 119, etc.), and the Book of Job is a didactic drama (see below). The palmy period of didactic or gnomic poetry is the peaceful and brilliant reign of Solomon, which lasted forty years (B. C. 1015–975). He was a favorite child of nature and grace. He occupies the same relation to the Proverbs as David to the Psalter, being the chief author and model for imitation. He was the philosopher, as David was the singer, of Israel. The fame of his wisdom was so great that no less than three thousand proverbs were ascribed to him. “God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the sand that is on the sea-shore. And Solomon’s wisdom excelled the wisdom of all the children of the east country, and all the wisdom of Egypt. For he was wiser than all men; than Ethan the Ezrahite, and Heman, and Chalcol, and Darda, the sons of Mahol: and his fame was in all nations round about. And he spake three thousand proverbs: and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes. And there came of all people to hear the wisdom of Solomon, from all kings of the earth, which had heard of his wisdom” (1 Kings 4:29-34). According to a rabbinical tradition, Aristotle derived his philosophy from the Solomonic writings which Alexander the Great sent him from Jerusalem.36 The usual word for a didactic poem is mâshâl (מָשָׁל, παροιμία, παραβολή), a likeness, similitude, comparison; then, in a wider sense, a short, sharp, pithy maxim, sententious saying, gnome, proverb couched in figurative, striking, pointed language. A proverb contains multum in parvo, and condenses the result of long observation and experience in a few words which strike the nail on the head and are easily remembered. It is the philosophy for the people, the wisdom of the street. The Orientals, especially the Arabs, are very fond of this kind of teaching. It suited their wants and limits of knowledge much better than an elaborate system of philosophy. And even now a witty or pithy proverb has more practical effect upon the common people than whole sermons and tracts.37 The Proverbs of the Bible are far superior to any collection of the kind, such as the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, the Aurea Carmina attributed to Pythagoras, the Remains of the Poetæ Gnomici, the collections of Arabic proverbs. They bear the stamp of divine inspiration. They abound in polished and sparkling gems. They contain the practical wisdom (chokma) of Israel, and have furnished the richest contributions to the dictionary of proverbs among Christian nations. They trace wisdom to its true source, the fear of Jehovah (chap. 1:7). Nothing can be finer than the description of Wisdom in the eighth chapter, where she is personified as the eternal companion and delight of God, and commended beyond all earthly treasures: Wisdom is better than rubies, And no precious things compare with her. I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, And find out knowledge of wise counsels. The fear of Jehovah is to hate evil; Pride, haughtiness, and an evil way, And a perverse mouth, do I hate. Counsel is mine, and reflection; I am understanding; I have strength. By me kings reign, And princes decree justice. By me princes rule, And nobles, all the judges of the earth. I love them that love me; And they that seek me early shall find me. Riches and honor are with me. Yea, enduring riches and righteousness. My fruit is better than gold, yea, than refined gold; And my increase than choice silver. I walk in the way of righteousness, In the midst of the path of rectitude; To make, ensure abundance to those that love me, And to fill their storehouse. ******* Blessed is the man that heareth me, Watching daily at my gates, Waiting at the posts of my doors! For whosoever findeth me findeth life; And shall obtain favor from Jehovah. The description of the model Hebrew woman in her domestic and social relations (chap. 31:10–31, in the acrostic form) has no parallel for truthfulness and beauty in all ancient literature, and forms the appropriate close of this book of practical wisdom; for from the family of which woman is the presiding genius, springs private and public virtue and national prosperity. “The Book of Proverbs,” says a distinguished modern writer, “is not on a level with the Prophets or the Psalms. It approaches human things and things divine from quite another side. It has even something of a worldly, prudential look, unlike the rest of the Bible. But this is the very reason why its recognition as a Sacred Book is so useful. It is the philosophy of practical life. It is the sign to us that the Bible does not despise common sense and discretion. It impresses upon us, in the most forcible manner, the value of intelligence and prudence, and of a good education. The whole strength of the Hebrew language, and of the sacred authority of the book is thrown upon these homely truths. It deals, too, in that refined, discriminating, careful view of the finer shades of human character, so often overlooked by theologians, but so necessary to any true estimate of human life. ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and the stranger does not intermeddle with its joy.’ How much is there, in that single sentence, of consolation, of love, of forethought! And, above all, it insists, over and over again, upon the doctrine that goodness is ‘wisdom,’ and that wickedness and vice are ‘folly.’ There may be many other views of virtue and vice, of holiness and sin, better and higher than this. But there will always be some in the world who will need to remember that a good man is not only religious and just, but wise; and that a bad man is not only wicked and sinful, but a miserable, contemptible fool!”38 The poetic structure of the Proverbs is that of Hebrew parallelism in its various forms. They consist of single, double, triple, or more couplets; the members corresponding to each other in sense and diction, either synonymously or antithetically. Delitzsch calls them two-liners, four-liners, six-liners, eight-liners.39 The first section, Proverbs 10:1 to Proverbs 22:16, contains exclusively two-liners. Besides these there are a few three-liners, five-liners and seven-liners, where the odd line is either a repetition or a reason for the idea expressed in the first lines. A few specimens will make this clear. 1. Single synonymous couplets: Proverbs 3:1. My son, forget not my law: And let thy heart keep my commandments. Proverbs 3:12. Whom Jehovah loveth He correcteth: Even us a father the son in whom he delighteth. Proverbs 3:13. Blessed the man who finds wisdom: And the man who obtains understanding. Proverbs 11:25. The liberal soul shall be made fat: And he that watereth shall himself be watered. Proverbs 16:32 He that is slow to auger is better than the mighty: And he that ruleth his own spirit than he who taketh a city. 2. Single antithetic couplets: Proverbs 10:1. A wise son maketh a glad father: But a foolish son is the grief of his mother. Proverbs 10:12. Hatred stirreth up strifes: But love covereth all sins. Proverbs 10:16. The wages of the righteous is life: The gain of the wicked is sin. Proverbs 13:9. The light of the righteous shall be joyous: But the lamp of the wicked shall go out. Proverbs 13:25. He that spareth his rod hates his son: But he that loveth him giveth him timely chastisement. Proverbs 18:17. He that is first in his own cause seemeth right: But his neighbor cometh and searcheth him. 3. Single couplets which merely express a comparison: Proverbs 27:8. As a bird that wandereth from her nest, So is a man that wandereth from his place. Proverbs 27:15. A continual dropping in a very rainy day, And a contentious woman are alike. Proverbs 27:19. As in water face answereth to face, So the heart of man to man. 4. Single couplets where the second member completes the idea of the first or assigns a reason or a qualification: Proverbs 16:24. Pleasant words are as a honey-comb, Sweet to the soul and health to the bones. Proverbs 16:31. The hoary head is a crown of glory, If it be found in the way of righteousness. 5. Three-liners: Proverbs 3:3. (Synonymous) Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: Bind them about thy neck; Write them upon the table of thine heart. Proverbs 28:10. (Antithetic) Whoso causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way: He shall fall himself into his own pit, But the upright shall inherit good things. Proverbs 27:10. (Reason) Thine own friend, and thy father’s friend forsake not: Neither go into thy brother’s in the day of thy calamity; For better is a neighbor near than a brother afar off. 6. Double couplets or four-liners: Proverbs 23:15 sq.; Proverbs 24:3 sq., Proverbs 24:28 sq.; Proverbs 30:5 sq., Proverbs 30:17 sq.; Proverbs 22:22 sq., Proverbs 22:24 sq.; Proverbs 25:4 sq. These are all synonymous, or synthetic, or corroboratory, but there seems to be no example of an antithetic four-liner. 7. Five-liners; the last three usually explaining and confirming the idea of the first two lines: Proverbs 23:4 sq.; Proverbs 25:6 sq.; Proverbs 30:32 sq. 8. Triple couplets or six-liners, which spin out an idea with more or less repetition or confirmations and illustrations: Proverbs 23:1-3; Proverbs 23:12-14; Proverbs 23:19-21; Proverbs 24:11 sq.; Proverbs 30:29-31. 9. Seven-liners: Proverbs 23:6-8. The only specimen in the Proverbs. 10. Quadruple couplets or eight-liners: Proverbs 23:22-25. But these four, six, and eight-liners, so-called, may be easily resolved into two, three, or four single couplets. Take, e. g., chap. Proverbs 23:12-14, which Delitzsch quotes as a six-liner, and we have there simply three couplets which carry out and unfold one idea, or expand the mashal sentence into a mashal poem: Apply thy heart to instruction: And thine ears to the words of knowledge. Withhold not correction from the child: For if thou beatest him with a rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, And shalt deliver his soul from hell. Ecclesiastes or Koheleth is a philosophic poem, not in broken, disconnected maxims of wisdom, like the Proverbs, but in a series of soliloquies of a soul perplexed and bewildered by doubt, yet holding fast to fundamental truth, and looking from the vanities beneath the sun to the eternal realities above the sun. It is a most remarkable specimen of Hebrew scepticism subdued and moderated by Hebrew faith in God and His holy commandments, in the immortality of the soul, the judgment to come, the paramount value of true piety. It corresponds to the old age of Solomon, as the Song of Songs reflects the flowery spring of his youth, and the Proverbs the ripe wisdom of his manhood.40 Whether written by the great monarch or not (which question is fully discussed on both sides in this Commentary), it personates him (Proverbs 1:12) and gives the last sad results of his experience after a long life of unrivalled wisdom and unrivalled folly, namely, the overwhelming impression of the vanity of all things earthly, with the concluding lesson of the fear of God, which checks the tendency to despair, and is the star of hope in the darkness of midnight. The key-note is struck in the opening lines, repeated at the close (12:3): O vanity of vanities! Koheleth saith; O vanity of vanities! all—vanity! This is the negative side. But the leading positive idea and aim is expressed in the concluding words: Fear God and keep His commandments, For this is all of man. Some regard Koheleth as an ethical treatise in prose, with regular logical divisions. But it is full of poetic inspiration, and in part at least also poetic in form, with enough of rhythmical parallelism to awaken an emotional interest in these sad soliloquies and questionings of the poet. Prof. Tayler Lewis (in his additions to Zöckler’s Commentary) has translated the poetic portions in Iambic measure, with occasional use of the Choriambus, We transscribe two specimens from chap. 7. and chap. 11.: Better the honored name than precious oil; Better the day of death than that of being born. Better to visit sorrow’s house than seek the banquet hall; Since that (reveals) the end of every man, And he who lives should lay it well to heart. Better is grief than mirth; For in the sadness of the face the heart becometh fair. The wise man’s heart is in the house of mourning The fool’s heart in the house of mirth. Better to heed the chiding of the wise Than hear the sons of fools. For like the sound of thorns beneath the pot, So is the railing laughter of the fool. This, too, is vanity. *********** Rejoice, O youth, in childhood; let thy heart Still cheer thee in the day when thou art strong. Go on in every way thy will shall choose, And after every form thine eyes behold; But know that for all this thy God will thee to judgment bring. O, then, turn sorrow from thy soul, keep evil from thy flesh; For childhood and the morn of life, they, too, are vanity. Remember thy Creator, then, in the days when thou art young; Before the evil days are come, before the years draw nigh; When thou shalt say—delight in them is gone. To didactic poetry belong also the fable and the parable. Both are allegories in the style of history; both are conscious fictions for the purpose of instruction, and differ from the myth, which is the unconscious product of the religious imagination. But the fable rests on admitted impossibilities and introduces irrational creatures to teach maxims of secular prudence and lower, selfish morality; while the parable takes its illustrations from real life, human or animal, with its natural characteristics, and has a much higher moral and religious aim. It is, therefore, far better adapted, as a medium of instruction, to the true religion. “The fable seizes on that which man has in common with the creatures below him; the parable rests on the truth that man is made in the image of God.” The former is only fitted for the instruction of youth, which does not raise the question of veracity; the latter is suited to all ages. There are no fables in the New Testament, and only two in the Old, viz., the fable of Jotham: the trees choosing their king, Judges 9:8-15, and the fable of Jehoash: the cedars of Lebanon and the thistle, 2 Kings 14:9, and 2 Chronicles 25:18. The riddle (parable) of Ezekiel 17:1-10 introduces two eagles as representatives of human characters, but without ascribing to them human attributes. The parable occurs 2 Samuel 12:1 (the poor man’s ewe lamb), Isaiah 5:1 (the vineyard yielding wild grapes), also 1 Kings 20:39; 1 Kings 22:19. It was cultivated by Hillel, Shammai and other Jewish rabbis, and appears frequently in the Gemara and Midrash. It is found in its perfection in the Gospels. The parables of our Lord illustrate the various aspects of the kingdom of heaven (as those in the Synoptical Gospels), or the personal relation of Christ to His disciples (as the parable of the good shepherd, and that of the vine and the branches, in the Gospel! of John). They conceal and reveal the profoundest ideas in the simplest and most lucid language. They are at once pure truth and pure poetry. Every trait is intrinsically possible and borrowed from nature and human life, and yet the composition of the whole is the product of the imagination. The art of illustrative teaching in parables never rose so high before or since, nor can it ever rise higher.41 § 9. Prophetic Poetry This is peculiar to the Bible and to the religion of revelation. Heathen nations had their divinations and oracles, but no divinely inspired prophecy. Man may have forebodings of the future, and may conjecture what may come to pass under certain conditions; but God only knows the future, and he to whom He chooses to reveal it. Prophecy is closely allied to poetry. The prophet sees the future as a picture with the spiritual eye enlightened by the Divine mind, and describes it mostly in more or less poetic form. Prophetic poetry combines a didactic and an epic element.42 It rouses the conscience, enforces the law of God, and holds up the history of the future, the approaching judgments and mercies of God for instruction, reproof, comfort and encouragement. Prophecy is too elevated to descend to ordinary prose, and yet too practical to bind itself to strict rules. Ezekiel and Daniel, like St. John in the Apocalypse, use prose, but a prose that has all the effect of poetry. The other prophets employ prose in the narrative and introductory sections, but a rhythmical flow of diction in the prophecies proper, with divisions of clauses and stanzas, and rise often to the highest majesty and power. The sublime prayer of Habakkuk (Job 3) is a lyric poem and might as well have a place in the Psalter. The greatest poet among the prophets is Isaiah. He gathers up all the past prophecies to send them enriched into the future, and combines the deepest prophetic inspiration with the sublimest and sweetest poetry.43 The earliest specimens of prophetic poetry are the prediction of Noah, Genesis 9:25-27, the blessing of Jacob, Genesis 49, the prophecies of Balaam, Numbers 24, and the farewell blessing of the twelve tribes by Moses, Deuteronomy 33. The golden age of prophetic poetry began with the decline of lyric poetry, and continued till the extinction of prophecy, warning the people of the approaching judgments of Jehovah, and comforting them in the midst of their calamities with His promise of a brighter future when the Messiah shall come to redeem His people and to bless all the nations of the earth. We select one of the oldest specimens, a part of the remarkable prophecy of Balaam concerning Israel, which has a melodious lyrical flow (Numbers 24:4-10; Numbers 24:17-19): He saith who heareth the words of God, Who seeth the vision of the Almighty, Falling down, and having his eyes opened: How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, Thy tabernacles, O Israel! As the valleys are they spread forth, As gardens by the river side, As lign aloes which the Lord hath planted, As cedar trees beside the waters. He shall flow with water from his buckets, And his seed shall be in many waters, And his king shall be higher than Agag, And his kingdom shall be exalted. God bringeth him forth out of Egypt; He hath as it were the strength of a buffalo: He shall eat up the nations his enemies, And shall break their bones in pieces, And smite them through with his arrows. He couched, he lay down as a lion, And as a lioness; who shall stir him up? Blessed is he that blesseth thee, And cursed is be that curseth thee. ******* There shall come forth a Star out of Jacob, And a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel And shall smite through the corners of Moab, And break down all the sons of tumult. And Edom shall be a possession, And Seir shall be a possession, his enemies; While Israel doeth valiantly. And out of Jacob shall he have dominion. And shall destroy the remnant from the city. The nearest approach which the prophecy of the Old Testament several hundred years before Christ made to the very heart of the gospel salvation, is in the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah: Who hath believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, And as a root out of a dry ground: He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see Him, There is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised and rejected by men; A Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: And we hid as it were our faces from Him, He was despised and we esteemed Him not. Surely He hath borne our griefs, And carried our sorrows: Yet we did esteem Him stricken, Smitten of God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him; And with His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned every one to his own way; And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, Yet He opened not His mouth: He is brought as a Lamb to the slaughter, And as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, So He openeth not His mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: And who shall declare his generation? For He was cut off out of the land of the living: For the transgression of my people was He stricken. And He made His grave with the wicked, And with the rich in His death; Because He had done no violence, Neither was any deceit in His mouth: Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He hath put Him to grief. When Thou shalt make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, And the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand. He shall see the travail of His soul, and be satisfied. By His knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; For He shall bear their iniquities. Therefore will I divide Him, a portion with the great, And He shall divide the spoil with the strong; Because He hath poured out His soul unto death: And He was numbered with the transgressors; And He bare the fin of many, And made intercession for the transgressors. § 10. Dramatic Poetry If we start with the Greek conception of the drama, there is none in the Bible. But if we take the word in a wider sense, and apply it to lengthy poetic compositions, unfolding an action and introducing a number of speakers or actors, we have two dramas in the Old Testament. The Song of Solomon is a lyric drama or melo-drama; the Book of Job, a didactic drama. The best judges of different ages and churches, as Gregory of Nazianzen, Bossuet, Lowth, Ewald, Renan, Stanley, recognize the dramatic element in these two poems, and some have even gone so far as to suppose that both, or at least the Canticles, were really intended for the stage.44 But there is not the slightest trace of a theatre in the history of Israel before the age of Herod, who introduced foreign customs; as there is none at the present day in the Holy Land, and scarcely among the Mohammedan Arabs, unless we regard the single reciters of romances (always men or boys) with their changing voice and gestures as dramatic actors. The modern attempts to introduce theatres in Beirut and Algeria have signally failed. 1. The Canticles presents the Hebrew ideal of pure bridal and conjugal love in a series of monologues and dialogues by different persons: a lover, king Solomon (Shelomoh, the Peaceful), a maiden named Shulamith, and a chorus of virgins, daughters of Jerusalem. There are no breaks or titles to indicate the change of scene or speakers, and they can be recognized only from the sense and the change of gender and number in the personal pronoun. The English version is much obscured by a neglect of the distinction of feminine and masculine pronouns in the Hebrew. The poem is full of the fragrance of spring, the beauty of flowers, and the loveliness of love. How sweet and charming is Solomon’s description of spring, Job 2:10-13, which a German poet calls “a kiss of heaven to earth.” Rise up, my love, my fair one, and go forth! For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over, is gone. The flowers appear on the earth, The time for the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree spices its green figs, And the vines with tender blossoms give fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and go forth! My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the recess of the cliffs, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For thy voice is sweet, And thy countenance is comely. The Song of Solomon canonizes the love of nature, and the love of sex, as the Book of Esther (where the name of God never occurs) canonizes patriotism or the love of country. It gives a place in the Book of God to the noblest and strongest passion which the Creator has planted in man, before the fall, and which reflects His own infinite love to His creatures, and the love of Christ to His Church. Procul abeste profani! The very depth of perversion to which the passion of love can be degraded, only reveals the height of its origin and destiny. Love in its primal purity is a “blaze” or “lightning flash from Jehovah” (Shalhebeth-Jah, Job 8:6), and stronger than death, and as it proceeds from God so it returns to Him; for “God is love; and he that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him” (1 John 4:16).45 As to the artistic arrangement or the number of acts and cantos in each act of this melodrama of Love there is considerable difference among commentators. Some divide it into five acts, according to the usual arrangement of dramas (Ewald, Böttcher, Zöckler, Moody Stuart, Davidson, Ginsburg), some into six (Delitzsch, Hahn), some into seven, corresponding to the seven days of the Jewish marriage festival for which the successive portions of the poem are supposed to have been intended to be sung (Bossuet, Percy, Williams). Ewald subdivides the five acts into thirteen, Renan into sixteen, others into more or less cantos. On the other hand Thrupp and Green give up the idea of a formal artistic construction, such as the Indo-European conception of a drama would require, and substitute for it a looser method of arrangement or aggregation with abrupt transitions and sudden changes of scene. All the parts are variations of the same theme, “the love of king Solomon and his bride, the image of a divine and spiritual love.” Those who regard the poem as an idyl rather than a drama (Sir William Jones, Good, Fry, Noyes, Herbst, Heiligstedt) divide it into a series of songs, but likewise differ as to the number and the pauses. This is not the place to enter into the wilderness of interpretations of this wonderful and much abused Song, which are fully discussed in this Commentary by Drs. Zöckler and Green. But I must protest against the profane, or exclusively erotic interpretation which in various contradictory shapes has of late become so fashionable among scholars, and which makes the position of this book in the canon an inexplicable enigma. I add the judicious remarks of Dr. Angus on the subject.46 “Much of the language of this poem has been misunderstood by early expositors. Some have erred by adopting a fanciful method of explanation, and attempting to give a mystical meaning to every minute circumstance of the allegory. In all figurative representations there is always much that is mere costume. It is the general truth only that is to be examined and explained. Others, not understanding the spirit and luxuriancy of eastern poetry, have considered particular passages as defective in delicacy, an impression which the English version has needlessly confirmed, and so have objected to the whole, though the objection does not apply with greater force to this book than to Hesiod and Homer, or even to some of the purest of our own authors. If it be remembered, that the figure employed in this allegory is one of the most frequent in Scripture, that in extant oriental poems it is constantly employed to express religious feeling, that many expressions which are applied in our translation to the person, belong properly to the dress, that every generation has its own notions of delicacy (the most delicate in this sense being by no means the most virtuous), that nothing is described but chaste affection, that Shulamith speaks and is spoken of collectively, and that it is the general truth only which is to be allegorized, the whole will appear to be no unfit representation of the union between Christ and true believers in every age. Properly understood, this portion of Scripture will minister to our holiness. It may be added, however, that it was the practice of the Jews to withhold the book from their children till their judgments were matured.” The most recent commentator, too, justly remarks:47 “Shall we then regard it as a mere fancy, which for so many ages past has been wont to find in the pictures and melodies of the Song of Songs types and echoes of the actings and emotions of the highest Love, of Love Divine, in its relations to Humanity; which, if dimly discerned through their aid by the Synagogue, have been amply revealed in the gospel to the Church? Shall we not still claim to trace in the noble and gentle history thus presented foreshadowings of the infinite condescensions of Incarnate Love?—that Love which, first stooping in human form to visit us in our low estate in order to seek out and win its object (Psalms 136:23), and then raising along with itself a sanctified Humanity to the Heavenly Places (Ephesians 2:6), is finally awaiting there an invitation from the mystic Bride, to return to earth once more and seal the union for eternity (Revelation 22:17)?” 2. The Book of Job is a didactic drama, with an epic introduction and close. The prologue (Job 1, 2) and the epilogue (Job 42:7-17) are written in plain prose, the body of the poem in poetry. It has been called the Hebrew tragedy, but differing from other tragedies by its happy termination. We better call it a dramatic theodicy. It wrestles with the perplexing problem of ages, viz., the true meaning and object of evil and suffering in the world under the government of a holy, wise and merciful God. The dramatic form shows itself in the symmetrical arrangement, the introduction of several speakers, the action, or rather the suffering of the hero, the growing passion and conflict, the secret crime supposed to underlie his misfortune, and the awful mystery in the background. But there is little external action (δρᾶμα) in it, and this is almost confined to the prologue and epilogue. Instead of it we have here an intellectual battle of the deepest moral import, mind grappling with mind on the most serious problems which can challenge our attention. The outward drapery only is dramatic, the soul and substance of the poem is didactic, with all the Hebrew ideas of Divine Providence, which differ from the Greek notion of blind Fate as the light of day differs from midnight. It is intended for the study, not for the stage.48 The book opens, like a Greek drama, with a prologue, which introduces the reader into the situation, and makes him acquainted with the character, the prosperous condition, the terrible misfortunes, and the exemplary patience of the hero. Even God, and His great antagonist, Satan, who appears, however, in heaven as a servant of God, are drawn into the scenery, and a previous arrangement in the Divine counsel precedes and determines the subsequent transaction. History on earth is thus viewed as an execution of the decrees of heaven, and as controlled throughout by supernatural forces. But we have here the unsearchable wisdom of the Almighty Maker and Ruler of men, not the dark impersonal Fate of the heathen tragedy. This grand feature of Job has been admirably imitated by Göthe in the prologue of his Faust. The action itself commences after seven days and seven nights of most eloquent silence. The grief over the misfortunes which, like a succession of whirlwinds, had suddenly hurled the patriarchal prince from the summit of prosperity to the lowest depths of misery, culminating in the most loathsome disease, and intensified by the heartless sneers of his wife, at last bursts forth in a passionate monologue of Job, cursing the day of his birth. Then follows the metaphysical conflict with his friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, who now turn to enemies, and “miserable comforters,” “forgers of lies, and botchers of vanities.” The debate has three acts, with an increasing entanglement, and every act consists of three assaults of the false friends, and as many defences of Job (with the exception that in the third and last battle Zophar retires and Job alone speaks).49 The poem reaches its height in the triumphant assertion of faith in his Redeemer (Job 19:25-27), by which “the patriarch of Uz rises to a level with the patriarch of Ur as a pattern of faith.”50 After a closing monologue of Job, expressing fully his feelings and thoughts in view of the past controversy, the youthful Elihu, who had silently listened, comes forward, and in three speeches administered deserved rebuke to both parties with as little mercy for Job as for his friends, but with a better philosophy of suffering, whose object he represents to be correction and reformation, the reproof of arrogance and the exercise of humility and faith. He begins the disentanglement of the problem and makes the transition to the final decision. At last God Himself, to whom Job had appealed, appears as the Judge of the controversy, and Job humbly submits to His infinite power and wisdom, and penitently confesses his sin and folly. This is the internal solution of the mighty problem, if solution it can be called. A brief epilogue relates the historical issue, the restoration and increased prosperity of Job after this severest trial of his faith, and patient submission to God. To the external order corresponds the internal dialectic development in the warlike motion of conflicting sentiments and growing passions. The first act of the debate shows yet a tolerable amount of friendly feeling on both sides. In the second the passion is much increased, and the charges of the opponents against Job made severer. In the last debate Eliphaz, the leader of the rest, proceeds to the open accusation of heavy crimes against the sufferer with an admonition to repent and to convert himself to God. Job, after repeated declarations of his innocence and vain attempts at convincing his opponents, appeals at last to God as his Judge. God appears, convinces him, by several questions on the mysteries of nature, of his ignorance, and brings him to complete submission under the infinite power and wisdom of the Almighty, chap. 42:2–6. I know that Thou canst do all things; And no thought can be withheld from Thee. Who is this that hideth counsel without knowledge? I have then uttered what I understand not. But hear me now, and let me speak; Thee will I ask, and do Thou teach me. I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear; But now mine eyes behold Thee. Therefore I abhor it (I recant),51 And repent in dust and ashes. The Book of Job, considering its antiquity and artistic perfection, rises like a pyramid in the history of literature, without a predecessor and without a rival. § 11. Poetic Diction The language of Hebrew as well as of all other poetry, is, in one respect, more free, in other respects more bound, than the language of prose. It is the language of imagination and feeling, as distinct from the language of sober reflection and judgment. It is controlled by the idea of beauty and harmony. It is the speech of the Sabbath-day. It soars above what is ordinary and common. It is vivid, copious, elevated, sonorous, striking, impressive. To this end the poet has more license than the prose-writer; while, on the other hand, it imposes on him certain restraints of versification to secure greater æsthetic effect. He is permitted to use words which are uncommon or obsolete, but which, for this very reason, strike the attention and excite the emotion. He may also use ordinary words in an extraordinary sense. The licenses of the Hebrew poets are found in the following particulars: 1. Archaic forms and peculiar words, some of Aramaic or even a prior Shemitic dialect: Eloah for Elohim (God), enosh for adam (man), orach for derech (path), havah for haiah (to be), millah for dabar (word), paal for asah (to do), katal for razah (to kill). Sometimes they are accumulated for poetic effect.52 2. Common words in an uncommon sense: Joseph for the nation of Israel; adjectives for substantive objects, as ‘the hot’ for the sun, ‘the white’ for the moon (Song of Solomon 6:10), ‘the strong’ for a bull (Psalms 50:13), ‘the flowing’ for streams (Isaiah 44:3). 3. Peculiar grammatical forms, or additional syllables, which give the word more sound and harmony, or an air of antiquity; as the paragogic ah (ָה) affixed to nouns in the absolute state, o (–וֹ), and i (–ִי) affixed to nouns in the construct state; the feminine termination ath (for the ordinary ah); the plural ending in and ai (for im); the verbal suffixes mo, amo, and emo; the pronominal suffixes to nouns and prepositions—amo (for am), and ehu (for an); also lengthened vowel forms of pronouns and prepositions—lamo (for lo or lahem), lemo (for לְ), bemo (for בִּ), kemo (for כְ), eleh (for אֶל), adai (for עַד). § 12. Versification. Parallelism Of Members Hebrew poetry has a certain rhythmical flow, a rise and fall (arsis and thesis), versicular and strophic divisions, also occasional alliterations and rhymes, and especially a correspondence of clauses called parallelism, but no regular system of versification, as we understand it. It is not fettered by mechanical and uniform laws, it does not rest on quantity or syllabic measure, there is no equal number of syllables in each line or verse, nor of lines in each stanza or strophe. It is a poetry of sense rather than sound, and the thought is lord over the outward form. It differs in this respect from classical, modern, and also from later Hebrew poetry.53 This freedom and elasticity of Hebrew poetry gives it, for purposes of translation, a great advantage above ancient and modern poetry, and subserves the universal mission of the Bible, as the book of faith and spiritual life for all nations and in all languages. A more artificial and symmetrical structure would make a translation a most difficult task, and either render it dull and prosy, by a faithful adherence to the sense, or too free and loose, by an imitation of the artistic form. Besides it would introduce confusion among the translations of different Christian nations. The Iliad of Homer, the Odes of Horace, Dante’s Divina Comedia, Petrarca’s Sonnets, Milton’s Paradise Lost, Göthe’s Faust, could not be translated in prose without losing their poetic charm, yea, their very soul. They must be freely reproduced in poetic form, and this can only be done by a poetic genius, and with more or less departure from the original. But the Psalms, the Book of Job, and Isaiah can be transferred by a good and devout scholar, in form as well as in substance, into any language, without sacrificing their beauty, sublimity, force, and rhythm. The Latin, English, and German Psalters are as poetic as the Hebrew, and yet agree with it and among themselves. It is impossible not to see here the hand of Providence, which made the word of truth accessible to all. The few acrostic or alphabetical poems can hardly be called an exception, viz., Psalms 25, 34, 37, 111, 112, 119, 145, the Lamentations, and the last chapter of Proverbs (31:10 sqq.). For the alphabetical order is purely external and mechanical, and at best only an aid to the memory. Psalms 111, 112 are the simplest examples of this class; each contains twenty-two lines, according to the number of the Hebrew alphabet, and the successive lines begin with the letters in their regular order. Psalms 119 consists of twenty-two strophes, corresponding to the number of Hebrew letters; each strophe begins with the letter of the alphabet, and has eight parallelisms of two lines each, and the first line of each parallelism begins with the initial letter of the strophe. The remaining four acrostic Psalms are not so perfect in arrangement. Many attempts have been made by Jewish and Christian scholars to reduce the form of Hebrew poetry to a regular system, but they have failed. Josephus says that the Song of Moses at the Red Sea was composed in the hexameter measure, and the Psalms in trimeters, pentameters and other metres. But he and Philo were anxious to show that the poets of their nation anticipated the Greek poets even in the art of versification. Jerome, the most learned among the Fathers (appealing to Philo, Josephus, Origen, and Eusebius for proof), asserts that the Psalter, the Lamentations, Job and almost all the poems of the Bible are composed in hexameters and pentameters, with dactyls and spondees, or in other regular metres, like the classic poems, and points also to the alphabetical arrangement of Psalms 111, 112, 119, 145, and the Lamentations. Among later scholars some deny all metrical laws in Hebrew poetry (Joseph Scaliger, Richard Simon); others maintain the rhythm without out metre54 (Gerhard Vossius); others both rhythm and metre (Gomarus, Buxtorf, Hottinger); others a full system of versification, though differing much in detail (Meibomius, Hare, Anton, Lautwein, Bellermann); while still others, believing in the existence of such a system, in whole or in part, think it impossible to recover it (Carpzov, Lowth, Jahn, to some extent also Herder and Wright). Ewald discusses at great length the Hebrew rhythm, verses and strophes, also Hebrew song and music, without making the matter very clear. Merx finds in the Book of Job a regular syllabic and strophic structure, eight syllables in each stich or line, and an equal number of stichs in each strophe, but he is obliged to resort to arbitrary conjectures of lacunæ or interpolations in the masoretic text. The conceded and most marked feature of Bible poetry is the parallelism of members, so-called.55 It consists in a certain rhythmical and musical correspondence of two or more sentences of similar or opposite meaning, and serves by a felicitious variation to give full expression and harmony to the thought. The parallel members complete or illustrate each other, and produce a music of vowels and consonants. Paralellism reflects the play of human feeling, and supplies the place of regular metre and rhyme in a way that is easily understood and remembered, and can be easily reproduced in every language. Ewald happily compares it to “the rapid stroke as of alternate wings,” and “the heaving and sinking as of the troubled heart.” There are different forms of parallelism, according to the nature of the internal relation of the members. The correspondence may be either one of harmony, or one of contrast, or one of progressive thought, or one simply of comparison, or of symmetrical structure. Since Lowth, it has become customary to distinguish three classes of parallelisms: synonymous, antithetic, and synthetic or constructive. The majority belong to the third class, and even those which are usually counted as synonymous, show more or less progress of thought, and might as well be assigned to the third class. A large number of parallelisms cannot be brought under either class. 1. Synonymous parallelism expresses the same idea in different but equivalent words, as in the following examples: Psalms 8:4. What is man that Thou art mindful of him? And the son of man that Thou visitest him? Psalms 19:1-2. The heavens declare the glory of God: And the firmament showeth His handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech: And night unto night proclaimeth knowledge. Psalms 103:1. Bless the Lord, O my soul: And all that is within me, bless His holy name. These are parallel couplets; but there are also parallel triplets, as in Psalms 1:1 : Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly: Nor standeth in the way of sinners, Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. Similar triplets occur in Job 3:4; Job 3:6; Job 3:9; Isaiah 9:20. Parallel quatrains are less frequent, as in Psalms 103:11-12, where the first member corresponds to the third, and the second to the fourth: For as the heavens are high above the earth, So great is His mercy towards them that fear Him. So far as the East is from the West, So far has He removed our transgressions from Him. When the two members are precisely the same in word and sense, they are called identic parallelism; but there are no cases of mere repetition, unless it be for the sake of emphasis, as in Isaiah 15:1; Psalms 94:1; Psalms 94:3. 2. Antithetic parallelism expresses a contrast or antithesis in sentiment: Psalms 1:6. For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: But the way of the ungodly shall perish. Psalms 37:9. Evil-doers shall be cut off: But those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth. Proverbs 10:7. The memory of the just is a blessing; But the name of the wicked shall rot. Proverbs 12:10. A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast, But the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. Hosea 14:9. The ways of the Lord are right, and the just shall walk in them; But the transgressors shall fall therein. 3. Synthetic or constructive parallelism. Here the construction is similar in form, without a precise correspondence in sentiment and word as equivalent or opposite, but with a gradation or progress of thought, as in Psalms 19:7-11; Psalms 148:7-13; Isaiah 14:4-9. We quote the first: The law of Jehovah is perfect, converting the soul: The testimony of Jehovah is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of Jehovah are right, rejoicing the heart: The commandment of Jehovah is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of Jehovah is clean, enduring forever: The judgments of Jehovah are truth, they are righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, and much fine gold: And sweeter than honey, and the honey comb. Moreover, by them is thy servant warned: In keeping of them there is great reward. To these three kinds of parallelism Jebb (Sacred Literature) adds a fourth, which he calls introverted parallelism, where the first line corresponds to the last (fourth), and the second to the penultimate (third), as in Proverbs 23:15-16. De Wette distinguishes four, slightly differing from Lowth, Delitzsch six or eight forms of parallelism, as we have already seen in the remarks on the Proverbs. The pause in the progress of thought determines the division of lines and verses. Hebrew poetry always adapts the poetic structure to the sense. Hence there is no monotony, but a beautiful variety and alternation of different forms. Sometimes the parallelism consists simply in the rhythmical correspondence of sentences or clauses, without repetition or contrast, or in carrying forward a line of thought in sentences of nearly equal length, as in Psalms 115:1-8. Not unto us, Jehovah, not unto us, But unto Thy name give glory, For Thy mercy, For Thy truth’s sake. Wherefore should the heathen say, “Where is now their God?” But our God is in the heavens; All that He pleased He has done. Their idols are silver and gold, The work of the hands of men. A mouth have they, but they speak not; Eyes have they, but they see not; Ears have they, but they hear not; Noses have they, but they smell not; Hands have they, but they handle not; Feet have they, but they walk not; They make no sound in their throat. Like them are they that made them, All that trust in them. This looser kind of parallelism or rhythmical correspondence and symmetrical construction of sentences, characterizes also much of the Hebrew prose, and is continued in the New Testament, e. g., in the Sermon on the Mount (especially the Beatitudes), in the Prologue of John, in Romans 5:12 sqq.; 8:28 sqq.; 2 Corinthians 13:1 sqq.; 1 Timothy 3:16; 2 Timothy 2:11, and other passages which we are accustomed to read as prose, but which even in form are equal to the best poetry—gems in beautiful setting, apples of gold in pictures of silver. THEISM of THE BOOK OF JOB __________ Its Grandeur And Purity Among all writings, inspired or uninspired, the Book of Job stands preëminent for its lofty representations of the pure moral personality, the holiness, the unchallengeable justice, the wisdom, the Omnipotence, the absolute Sovereignty of God. Whatever may be said of its obscurities and difficulties in other respects, in the splendor of its theism it is unsurpassed. Whether we take the earlier or the later date that has been assigned to it, the wonder is still the same. “Crude theistic conceptions” have been charged upon the whole Old Testament, surpassing, in some respects, those of surrounding nations, yet still characteristic of the infancy of the race and the infancy of science. The Book of Job refutes this. Our best modern theology, in its most approved and philosophical symbols, may be challenged to produce any thing surpassing the representations which this ancient writing gives us of God as “a Spirit, infinite, eternal and unchangeable in His being, power, holiness, justice, goodness and truth.” Nothing approaches its ideal of the ineffable purity of the divine character, before which the heavens veil their brightness, and the loftiest intelligences are represented as comparatively unholy and impure. God the Absolute, the Infinite, the Unconditioned, the Unknowable,—these are the terms by which our most pretentious philosophizing would characterize Deity as something altogether beyond the ordinary theological conception. But even here this old Book of Job surpasses them in setting forth the transcending glory, the ineffable height, the measureless profundity of the Eternal. How much stronger the intellectual and moral impression of this, as derived from the vivid metaphors of Zophar, than any thing that comes to us from the negatives of Sir William Hamilton, or from any such powerless abstractions as philosophy is compelled to employ: “Canst thou explore the deep things of God? Canst thou find out the Almighty in His perfection? Higher than Heaven, what canst thou do? Deeper than Hades, what canst thou know? Longer than the earth; broader than the sea;” excelling all height, going beneath all depth, extending beyond all space; infinite in its unsearchableness, yet never dissociated from the idea of a personal Divine presence more wondrous in its nearness than in any conception we can form of its immensity. Contrast Between This Exalted Theism And The Dim Accompanying View Of A Future Life In connection with such a sublime theism, there is to be noted another fact, worthy of attention in itself, but more especially in its bearing on the first and greater aspect of the Book. This exalted idea of God is almost wholly separated from any dogmatic view of a future life for man, although it most distinctly recognizes what has ever been regarded as having a close connection with this latter doctrine, namely, a spiritual world inhabited by superhuman beings, good and bad, among whom a conspicuous place is held by those who are called בניֹ אלהים, or “Sons of God.” The idea of another side of human existence, of some state beyond, whether in Sheol, or after the dominion of Sheol, cannot, indeed, be said to be wholly wanting. It gleams upon us from certain passages, but as something repressed rather than as intended to be prominently revealed. It is kept back; a veil seems thrown over it; it is silenced, as it were, even in places where it would appear to be almost breaking through, and struggling to manifest itself in circumstances most adapted to call out its utterance. This is a remarkable feature of the Book, very suggestive in respect to its purpose,—its problem, as some would call it,—or, to speak more correctly, the lesson it truly teaches, whatever may be said as to its artistic design. The Foundation of Religious Belief Two tenets are commonly regarded as fundamental in religion,—as indispensable, in fact, whatever else may be received or rejected. These are, 1st, the belief in a personal God having moral relations to a world of rational beings, a Ruler, Lawgiver and Judge, instead of a mere physical Creator; 2d, the belief in a future state for man, or of some higher life, however conceived, which shall give dignity to that relation, or make man a fit subject of a divine moral government appealing to the highest motives, and the most transcending reasons that can influence one appointed to such a destiny. They are the two necessary articles in every system of theology. Piety cannot exist without them. So it seems to us in the present age of the world. We find it difficult to think of religion as separate from some very clear and decided belief in another state of existence. And yet it has not always been so. Nothing is more certain than that, in the early days of the human world, this second article which, in certain kinds of modern religionism, seems to usurp the first place, to be the great dogma, in fact, giving its chief importance to the other, did certainly hold a very subordinate rank in the mind’s conceptions. If it existed at all, its form was most shadowy and indefinite. It was a feeling rather than a dogma having any defining limits in respect to any conceived time, state, or locality. And yet there was a strong sense of a high moral relation between man and God,—a relation somehow eternal, though one of the parties was mainly thought of as finite, earthly, and mortal. The Exalted Piety of the Patriarchal Life as compared with the Scantiness of its Creed Connected with this scanty creed, or rather with this wholly deficient creed, as we would deem it, there was an exalted piety, a rapt contemplation described as a “walking with God,” an adoring view of the divine holiness, an ecstatic longing for the blessedness of the divine communion. Strange as this may seem, it cannot be denied whilst we have before us the history of those early patriarchs who appeared ever to live as in the presence of God, and to whose earthly existence this feeling gave such an unearthly aspect, though knowing nothing, seemingly, of any state beyond. Difference between it and Modern Religionism It is difficult for as to conceive how it could have been so. Nothing of the kind is seen or known in our modern world. The creed of the materialist, or of the mortal Deist, as he is called, would seem outwardly to present but little difference from that of the patriarch in regard to this item of a future life, but how utterly does it repel every idea of such an exalted piety, such an adoring theism, as characterized these men who called their earthly stage a pilgrimage, but who knew not whither it tended, or what was its meaning, except that it was assigned to them by God. We never find such a belief now, or rather such an absence of belief, separated from some form of sheer worldliness, sensuality, animalism, ambition, utter selfishness in some aspect, vulgar or refined,—ever characterized by indifference to all religious thought, and wholly wanting in adoration or reverence for God, though theoretically believed. Earliest Ideas of Death and of Continued Being It is not easy for us now to enter into the mind of the early men, and to understand precisely what view they took of the strange phenomenon of death, or what conception they formed of any possible after being. It was a cessation of visible activity, but we are not warranted in supposing that they regarded it as extinction, on the one hand, or that they formed any idea of something separating, going off, and continuing as a distinct immaterial existence, on the other. It was a great mystery in respect to which nothing had been told them, except that it was a condition into which men entered on account of sin. It was the beginning of something, so far as the mere act of dying or the cessation of activity was concerned, but they had nothing to warrant them in regarding it as an end of being. It was not annihilation. They had no such word or figure—no such conception to be expressed by it. It was a state, a state of being, instead of a ceasing to be. It was a penal state, and the first dawning of a better hope and of a more distinct idea must have arisen from the strong desire of deliverance from it as from a darkness and a prison, which, although they may have interrupted their conscious active powers, did not destroy their personal identity. It was a state strange and indescribable—inconceivable, we may also say—yet held, nevertheless, as a fact of which they could give no account. The body lies motionless before them. They see it beginning to undergo a fearful change. As far as sense is concerned, every thing seems at an end; and yet they continue to speak of the dead man as one who somehow yet is. He has yet relations to God and to the living. He is not all gone. His “blood cries from the ground.” God has yet a care for him, and makes inquisition for him, as a yet remaining entity having rights and wrongs. Such language may have become mere empty figures as used now; but it could not well have become so in the early day; it meant something. They are gone from the congregation of the active living, but they are gathered into another—into a community of beings in a similar strange condition. Especially is this thought and said of the pious: “They are gathered to the fathers,” “gathered to their people.” The earthly living go to them; they come not back to us (Genesis 37:36). This is before any pictures of locality have been formed. Even those exceedingly dim conceptions first embodied in such words as Sheol and Hades had not yet assumed a rudimentary distinctness. The subterranean imagery had not yet grown out of the forms of burial. Still, even before all this, there was the feeling, the sentiment, of something in man, or belonging to man, that did not perish; and that, because of his vital moral relation to the ever Living God. “Because He lived,” therefore, in some way they knew not how, and on some ground they did not understand, “they should live also.” Hence that early Hebrew oath, which afterwards became so frequent, חי יהוה וחי נפשך, “as the Lord liveth and as thy soul liveth.” Surely there was meaning in all this; it was not mere verbiage. From this arose that kind of language which, as we learn from 2 Sam. 25:29, afterward pervaded the common Jewish speech. Thus Abigail uses it to David as a sort of habitual or proverbial utterance of the formal religionism; “The soul of my lord bound up in the bundle of life, צרור החיים, with the Lord thy God.” Compare also Psalms 36:10 : “For with thee is the fountain of life, מקור החיים, in thy light do we see light.” There is here “the power of an endless life,” even though time conception and local scenery be wholly absent. It is astonishing that some of our most learned and most acute commentators see so little in such remarkable language, whilst so keen to find meaning in the common-place ethics, or mystical rhapsodies of Zoroastrian, Brahminic, or Confucian writings. Pilgrims and Sojourners. The Covenant Idea This absence of local conception, and of forms of expression for it, should not lead us to imagine a complete destitution of the idea, or of the feeling, as we may rather call it. They were “strangers and pilgrims upon earth” (ξένοι, παρεπίδημοι, גֵּרִים), way-farers; “and they that say such things make it clear (ἐμφανίζουσιν) that they seek a country.” At the command of God, it is said, they went out from their native land, “not knowing whither they went;” and the same may be said of their apparent departure from the earthly state of being: They went down to Sheol, not knowing whither they went, yet firmly trusting God, who had made a “covenant with them well ordered in all things and sure.” Hence the great significance of this covenant idea which forms so peculiar a feature of the Old Testament, and especially of the patriarchal, economy. God does not deal with them as He does with nature. He raises them above the plane of an arbitrarily imposed and an involuntarily accepted law. He stipulates with man, he proposes terms to him, as one rational mind to another. But such a transaction implies a greater being in the party thus treated than the transient earthly life. God deals not thus with creatures of a day. “He is not the God of the dead, but of the living.” It is our Saviour’s argument with the Sadducees, most rational, most Scriptural, and most conclusive, though some of the Rationalists have not hesitated to characterize it as a force upon the text quoted, and an evasion of the difficulty presented. “the Power Of An Endless Life” It cannot be denied that there may be a feeling, a sentiment, an influence, call it what we will, that may have an immense power over the soul, giving it a most peculiar character, and yet wholly undefined in the forms either of thought or of language. It may be the consciousness of some greater being, strongly felt, yet without any conceived accompaniments of time, state, and locality. It is that mysterious idea which characterized the priesthood of Melchizedeck, and which the Apostle calls “the power of an endless life,” δύναμιν ζωῆς ἀκαταλύτον (Hebrews 7:16),—of an indissoluble, unbroken being. It is a power truly instead of a bare dogmatic idea, and yet indissolubly connected with that other and higher idea of the eternal God, with its awful moral relations to the human soul. It demands a Pure Theism first as the Ground of all other Religious Ideas Thus it is that these two great articles of religion, though inseparably connected in their essence, stand to each other in a causal relation of birth and development. The second, so far as respects its definiteness of conception, was to grow out of the first, and find in it its security against all perversion. To this end the first was to be clearly established, and to have the dominion of the soul, before the second assumed such form as might make it, in any degree, really or seemingly, independent of it. The clear acknowledgment of God as a moral Governor, whatever might become of man, or whatever might be thought of the duration or the importance of his being,—this was to be first, not only for its own sake as intrinsically greater than any other idea, but also on account of the second itself, as being a dogma, which, without such clear recognition of the greater dogma, might become vain, imaginative, grotesque, bringing in all kinds of monstrous chimeras on the one hand, or of pretty sentimentalities on the other, and, in either way, wholly losing all moral power. Doctrine of a Future Life developed from it From the doctrine of the being, personality, moral government, and moral sovereignty of God, were to grow out all other religious ideas. Under the divine direction of human history, and especially of the people who were chosen to be keepers of truth for the world, their development in the soul was to be their revelation. The Scriptures are the record of this revelation, made by divinely chosen and divinely guided instruments; or rather it is the record of the circumstances and events, natural or supernatural, common or extraordinary, in which, under the divine control, these developments had their origin and growth. Thus the idea of retribution was born in the sharp human conviction of something due to great crime—awakening also the thought that there might be a heinousness in such crimes, and even in what were regarded as common sins, far beyond that ordinary estimate which might itself have fallen with fallen beings. In the murderer’s conscience was born essentially the idea of Hell before any Hadean penalty was conceived of, either as to mode or locality. So the acknowledged relation of God as Moral Governor, as Redeeming Angel, as Covenant Friend, must have produced in the souls of the pious a feeling that becomes the preparation on which the idea of a blessed future being was, in time, firmly and definitely to rest. In such an acknowledged relationship there was this “power of an endless life,” of infinite being, as the germ of every idea that might afterwards be held in respect to the human destiny or the human soteriology. The Hebrew Despondency more spiritual than any Heathen Confidence. Anacreon and David. Farewell to the World—Farewell to the Idea of God This appears even in their despondency, or their moments of apparent skepticism. There is really something more spiritual in the seeming despair, even, than in many a belief that might be regarded as greatly surpassing in dogmatic statement or conceptive clearness. To the worldly mind, with a dim hope of futurity, or even with one possessing some degree of distinctness, yet without moral power, the agonizing thought in view of death is the leaving behind this fair earth, with its prospects of pleasure or of ambition. See how it meets us in the heathen gnomic poetry, in the Greek monumental verses, and in the Choral odes of the Dramatists. Very affecting are such representations, as they may be all summed up sometimes in that touching expression so common in Homer: ὀρᾶν φάος ἠελίοιο—λείπειν φάος ἠελίοιο—“to see no more, to leave forever, the light of the sun.” See Euripides Hippol. 4; Phœniss. 8; Iphig. in Aul. 1218, ἡδυ νὰρ τὸ φῶς βλέπειν, “For O ’tis sweet the sunlight to behold.” To bid farewell to this loved life, with all its worldly hopes: such was the burden of the heathen song, whether tuned to the Anacreontic or the more solemn tragic key. How differently affected in view of death was the pious Shemitic mind, whether as represented in the patriarchal, the Jobean, or the more common Israelitish life. “I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord,” says the dying Jacob; though should the Rationalist maintain that there is no evidence of the patriarch having any distinct hope of a life beyond the grave, it would not be easy to refute him. But greater still is the difference, we may say, when all seemed dark respecting that other unknown shore. To the pious descendant of Jacob, in such a season of despondency, the great grief of his departure was the bidding farewell to God—if the expression does not seem too strange—or the going out forever of that idea which had been his life, his higher life, even here on earth: “Shall the dead praise Thee? Shall one speak of Thy goodness in the grave, Thy faithfulness | אמונתך, thy covenant faithfulness] in Abaddon (the world of the perished)? Shall Thy miracles be known in the darkness, Thy righteousness in the land of oblivion?” Psalms 88:11; Psalms 88:13. So Psalms 6:6 : “In Sheol who shall make confession unto thee?” It was to be parted forever from that soul-vision of the Divine eternity, the loss of which was sorer than any diminution of their own being considered merely in itself. Hence the affecting contrasts of man’s dying, going out, passing away, and God’s everlasting continuance. The contemplation of this is the reason assigned in praying for the continuance of the human life. “O take me not away in the midst of my days; Thy years are through all generations.” “Thou sendest man back to dissolution (עַד דַּכָּא, to decay and dust), and thou sayest, return ye sons of Adam.” “But Thou art from everlasting unto everlasting;” “of thy years there is no end;” לא תמו, they never fail. There is, however, a rising hope of eternity in the very thought, as though reflected back on the human soul that thus contemplated itself in God, and leading it to say: “Thou hast been to us our dwelling-place in all generations;” or in the rapt language of the Prophet: “Art Thou not from everlasting, Jehovah, my God, my Holy One? We shall not die.” Habakkuk 1:12. This “Power of an Endless Life,” thus implied, stronger than any Dogmatic Utterance It is in these and in similar ways that the inspired feeling—for such we may call it even in its apparent skepticism—breathes itself out in many a passage where not a word is said dogmatically of any future state, and yet the language seems all filled with this “power of an endless life.” Thus in the “Psalm of Asaph,” Job 73:24: “Whom have I in the Heavens (but Thee); and in all the earth there is nothing that I desire beside Thee.”—עִמְּךָ in comparison with Thee. Take away this æonic inspiration, and all, at once, collapses. The language, regarded as coming from a mere worldly soul, speaking from a worldly stand-point, is wholly overstrained. There is nothing to call out a state of feeling so high and rapturous.56 “My flesh and my heart (my body and my soul) both fail, but Thou art the strength (the rock) of my heart, and my portion (חֶלְקִי, my decreed or allotted portion) for ever.” Not a word here, it may be said, of immortality, or of any life beyond the grave; no one would quote it as a proof-text for the doctrine dogmatically considered; and yet the power is there—the δύναμις ζωῆς ἀκαταλύτου—“the power of an endless life.” Examples from Job—God mourned for more than his Loss or Pain So is it with Job, though the darkness and sadness of his outward state gives a different form to the expression. The loss of property he hardly mentions—his bereavement of his children he barely alludes to; but it is for God he mourns—for the hiding of His face, “the light of His countenance,” that ineffable good for which our purest modern religion finds its best expression in the language of this ancient theism. Such a feeling is not inconsistent with the daring, and, as they seem to us, almost profane, expostulations wrung from him by the long continuance of his sharp bodily pains. In every subsidence of this great misery—for there must have been such seasons of remission, or he could not have borne it—there returns again the humbled, mourning spirit, with its divine want: “O that I knew where I might find Him; O that I might set my cause in order before Him; that I might know the words He would answer me,” Job 23:3; Job 23:5; “Wherefore hidest Thou Thy face?” Job 13:24; “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,”57 Job 13:15. From the lowest depth, hope springs up. Just after he had said, “My face is foul with weeping, and the death shade is on my eyelids” (Job 16:16), he cries out, “Even now my Witness is in Heaven, my Attestor is on high,”58 Job 16:19; “My friends are my mockers, but mine eye droppeth unto God,” 20. The tearful appeal is made as unto a better friend, who, in the days of his prosperity, had never been absent from his soul’s most cherished thoughts: “O that it were with me as in months that are past, in the days when God watched over me (ישמרני), when His lamp shone upon my head, when by His light I walked through darkness; when the Almighty was with me; when the secret of God [סוד, consessus colloquium, His secret presence and communion, see Psalms 25:14] was upon my tabernacle,” Job 29:2-4. Our highest rationalism has now no such remembrance and no such mourning. It may talk of the dimness of Job’s views, the inadequate conceptions entertained by the author of the poem in respect to the character of God, or the absence of any clear mention of a future life, but his darkness is better than their light, his intense theistic feeling is stronger than their theory; they have no such skepticism, perhaps, because they have no such faith. Longing for Goa as distinguishing the Hebrew Theism from all other It is the same feeling, as characteristic of this ancient theism, which breaks out in that ecstatic longing before alluded to: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God!” Picture the image of the thirsting animal (moaning, with outstretched neck, as ערג vividly denotes) in its intense desire for the refreshing element; then transfer it to the rational sphere, and we see that it is a superhuman, earth-transcending good that is so ardently sought. “My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God”—for the God of life. The epithet is not a superfluity. It distinguishes Him from the dead idol, on the one hand, and the equally dead idea, or theosophism, on the other. “It is Thy favor which is life, Thy loving-kindness which is more than life.” Again, Psalms 63:1 : “O God! O Thou my God! my soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee [כלה, denoting that strong passion which makes even the body faint under the intensity of its desire) as in a dry and thirsty land wherein no water is.” Our Saviour shows His estimate of the power of this language by consecrating the image in His own highest term for spiritual blessedness—the “water of life,” the “fountain leaping up to everlasting life.” There is no mistaking the significance of such an appeal to God. No joy in this world without the beatific sense of the divine presence. Transition from Despondency to Rapture. Job 19:25 Such was this ancient theism. It carried with it “the power of an endless life,” without any dogmatic mention, and this is the reason why the highest emotion of modern religion still finds in it its most adequate, as well as its most impassioned, expression. There is less of it in Job; but there, too, we find it, carrying him, sometimes, out of the deepest despondency into a spiritual region where his sharpest pains seem, for the moment, forgotten. In the first part of Job 19. it seems to be all over with him. No hope, either for body or for soul: “He hath fenced up my way, that I cannot pass; He hath set darkness in my path; He hath broken me down on every side, and I am gone; He uproots, like a tree, my hope; my bone cleaves to my skin, and to my flesh; I am laid bare, the skin from my teeth.”59 A little before (Job 17:1), he had said, “My breath (my breathing) is exhausted” (חֻבָּלָה, not “corrupt,” but from the other sense of חִבֵּל, denoting great pain, as of one in travail, hard and painful breathing, quick panting); my breath comes hard, my days are going out (נזעבו), the graves are my portion.” Job 5:11-12. “My purposes are broken off, even the treasured thoughts of my heart,” all my pleasant earthly remembrances. The light is departing. “They60 are putting night for day:” the shades of death are gathering fast around him. All hope of life is gone, much more the expectation of restored wealth and worldly prosperity, which the rationalist would regard as the only significance of the triumphal strain that follows, Job 19:25. He is in extremis; but such is the very time when this “power of an endless life” asserts itself. At the lowest ebb, as though such a time had been necessary to bring out its returning force, he breaks forth with those ever memorable words so sublime and super-earthly in spite of every lowering strain that criticism will put upon them, the words he wished “engraved,” as his monument, “with an iron stile and lead in the rock forever:” I Know That My Redeemer Liveth: My Avenger, who takes my part against my murderer or the great unseen evil Power of whose hostility Job sometimes seems to have a kind of dreamy consciousness. There is the same idea of survivorship so touchingly alluded to in the Psalms. He is my אחרון, my Nachmann, my Next of Kin. He lives on; “and after they61 have broken up this skin of mine, yet from my flesh (or out of my flesh, translate it as we will) shall I see God”—see Him with the eyes of my soul, and not with any outwardly derived theoretical knowledge—see Him as the Living God, as my God, and not a stranger. This beatific thought of God as “all his salvation and all his desire” carries him out of and far away from himself. It becomes an insupportable rapture giving rise to that same intense language before referred to in the 63d Psalm, and elsewhere. It is that most passionate verb כלה, having for its subject the paronomastic noun כליות (the reins, renes, φρενες), denoting the most interior part of the body, regarded as in nearest connection with the spiritual emotion: “My reins faint within me,” כלו כליותי בחקי. Consuming, exhaustion, completion, are the primary sense, hence, of disappearing (schwinden), going out, fainting, swooning with ecstatic joy. Ewald’s treatment of the passage is most admirable. He, however, refers זר to Job himself, and makes the personal idea conveyed by it one of the chief elements of his insupportable bliss: “Nicht ein Fremder, no more a stranger. It is no other than myself; no, no; all doubt is gone. It is I (ich, ich), I that shall thus behold Him. So deeply does he feel the bliss, that he seems to have wholly forgotten the outer world; and finally, in the highest transport, like one swooning, he cries out, O ich vergehe, O I am almost gone; I faint from trembling joy and insupportable desire.” Ewald, Job, p. 200. He refers to Psalms 84:3; Psalms 119:8. Compare also the use of οἴχεται by the Greek Dramatists, καρδία γὰρ οἴχεται. Similar Fluctuations of Faith and Hope. Job 14 It is the same feeling, though in a calmer or less ecstatic form, that prompts the language, Job 14:13 : מי יתן בשאול תצפנני, “O that Thou wouldst lay me up (like a deposit) in Sheol, that Thou wouldst keep me secret till Thy wrath should turn (שוב), that Thou wouldst appoint me a time and then remember me.” Is it really so? The thought suddenly breaks out of his gloom: “Is it really so: If a man die, shall he live again?” Every thing depends here upon what we regard as the emotional point of the question. The musing, soliloquizing style should also be remembered. It is not so much answering his friends, as talking to himself, and pausing between each solemn utterance. It may be the language of skepticism, or of rising hope, not denying the idea, but expressive of wonder at some new aspect of its greatness. It may have been intended—and the thought is not unworthy of inspiration—that different readers, according to their different degrees of spiritual-mindedness, might take higher or lower views of the strange interrogatory. Even for Job himself it may have had its various aspects. There may have been intended the denial or the doubt; or there may have been the feeling of wonder before mentioned; or it may have been an entirely new view, carrying with it a rising assurance: “If a man die, shall he live?” May it be that death is the way to life?62—that through it we attain the real life? However momentary the feeling, it immediately raises him to a higher confidence. Its first fruit is the earnest prayer for remembrance and security in Sheol; then the stronger faith grounded on the more unreserved submission: “All the days of my appointment” (what he had prayed for in the verse preceding) will I wait until my change63 shall come.” And now we have language which seems to mount to almost full assurance: “For Thou wilt call and I will answer Thee; Thou wilt yearn64 towards the work of Thy hands.” The darkness soon comes over him again; but these words stand, nevertheless, like the monumental engraving that describes the rapture of the later passage. Even as Ewald describes him then, he seems, for a short period, so carried away by the deep question he is pondering, as to have forgotten the outer world and all his surroundings. “Thou wilt have regard to the work of Thy hands; Thou wilt call and I will answer.” It is “the power of an endless life,” carrying him for a moment beyond the thought of death, or suffering, or human injustice. It is, however, but a transient gleam, and the close of the chapter—following, we may suppose, a pause or pauses in his soliloquy—becomes again as mournful as its beginning. One inference most strongly suggests itself from all this. There is a true experience here, an actual life that is lived. A soul went through these sorrows. It had these transitions of hope and despair—now moaning and expostulating with God, now rapt in the deepest meditation, now praying and trusting, now utterly cast down, and now, when “the light is just before darkness,” as Dr. Conant renders Job 17:12, rising suddenly to a height of rapture in which every thing disappears before the beatific vision of God. To a mind in a right state there comes from this an irresistible argument for the actual truthfulness of the history, not only in its general outlines, but also in what has been called its dramatic representation. This is not an invented picture. It would require a power and a style of writing not only unknown to the early world, but surpassing the highest skill of modern fiction, even could we suppose the greatest dramatists of Grecian, German, or English literature capable of describing such a state of soul, or of descending, without divine aid, into the depths of such an experience. Bidding Farewell to God; this Idea in the Psalms connected with the Temple and Ritual Worship In language like this we have quoted from Job and the Psalms, every hope of future being, or of any greater or higher being now connected with the earthly life, is sustained by, and derived from, the idea of God. It is this which gives such a preciousness to everything associated with the divine name. In the Psalms, however, there is a peculiar feature most worthy of note, because leading to a most important inference. In the expression of the glorious divine attributes, and of man’s great need of God, their theism is substantially the same with that of Job and the Patriarchs. A new element, however, appears in the passionate language used in respect to the outward divine worship. The occasional feeling of despondency in view of death, as before referred to, is enhanced by the thought of leaving every thing on earth associated with the divine name,—the temple, the sanctuary, the altar, “the courts of Thine house.” See the prayer of Hezekiah, Isaiah 38. Similar to this is the longing expressed when circumstances, even in this life, have cut them off from privileges so highly prized: “O when shall I come and appear before the face of God?” “How lovely are Thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! Longs, yea, even faints (גם כלתה נכספה) my soul for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry aloud (ירננו) for the Living God.” Hence that endeared expression בית יהוה, “the house of the Lord,” used not only for the temple, the place of worship, but for the people of God who worship there. A still further extension of the idea makes it denote the religious as distinguished from the worldly life, or even as something transcending the earthly state, though undefined in time and space. As Psalms 23:4 : “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” In that verse our translation may be amended. The words שבתי בבית יהוה, all belong to the subject of the sentence, as even the accents show: “My dwelling in the House of the Lord—shall be, לארך ימים, for length of days,” that is, continuously, or without interruption: My religious life shall not be simply on Sabbath-days, or on the stated festivals, but one unbroken adoration. Comp. Revelation 4:8. It is thus that, when far removed, or deprived in any way of this divine presence, they so earnestly pray: O send again that heavenly hour, That vision so divine, “Even Thy strength and Thy glory, as we have seen them in the Sanctuary. For better is Thy love than life; our lips shall ever praise Thee. Thus will I bless Thee while I live; thus, in Thy name, lift up my hands. As with marrow and fatness (beyond comparison with any earthly pleasure), so shall my soul be satisfied; with songs of joy shall my mouth glorify Thee.” It is a spiritual joy, transcending any “good of corn and wine.” It is a soul-worship, a soul-rapture, no mere affair of trumpets, incense, altars, or cherubic symbols, no imposing ceremonial, however gorgeous or comely its forms, however elevating or pietistic its influence. “In the shadow of Thy wings do I trust.” The outward temple worship suggests the image, but it is in deepest retirement that its power is felt: “For surely I remember Thee upon my bed; I meditate upon Thee in the watches of the night; my soul followeth hard after Thee; Thy right hand upholdeth me.” It is an absorbing devotion; the whole heart is there; the highest thoughts of God are there; it is a model which our best modern worship may strive to reach but cannot surpass. “For better is Thy love than life:” No mere rationalistic theism now talks to itself in this way; it was no mere theosophy, much less any known form of patrial or local worship that used the language then. It is an abiding sense of the power of this ancient devotion that has made the Psalms, in all ages, the Litany of the Christian Church. Inference from the Absence of all such Language in Job It is true that there are no passages of this latter kind in the Book of Job; but the inference from the fact is most obvious as well as most important. The story of that book, and even the seances (the dramatic discourses) as recorded, to say nothing of any later writer or recorder, were long before those inspiring temple and tabernacle ideas. They were before the Mosaic Law. That has been ably maintained as proof of the patriarchal character of the book, and we think that some of our modern Evangelical Commentators, such as Hengstenberg, and others, have been rash in giving up a view sustained by so profound a scholar as Spanheim, and indirectly supported by so learned an Orientalist as Schultens. Ni historia sit, fraus scriptoris, says the former. A pure dramatic work, avowed to be such, or carrying evidence of its dramatic character upon its very face, might have a place in inspired Scripture regarded as given by God for human instruction. Almost every other style of writing is there. But a parable, an allegory, a myth even, we at once know to be such. There is no concealment, no attempt to conceal, no artifice employed to put in what does not belong to the time of the composition, or to keep out what would at once undeceive the reader in regard to the appearance it would maintain. Such an intention, so employed, seems certainly akin to fraud. No subsequent writer was ever led to regard our Saviour’s Parables as actual histories; but such, certainly, was the view derived by the Prophet Ezekiel from this Book of Job, then a part of the Jewish Canon. He no more regarded it as unreal than the histories, as contained in the same Canon, or firmly held by tradition, of Noah and Daniel. Difficulties of the pure Dramatic view in excluding all reference to the Divine Law and Testimony so frequent in the Psalms According to the pure dramatic view, the writer selects a “hero,” wholly imaginary, or faintly disclosed in the dimmest nucleus of an ancient legend. He clothes him with the character of the patriarchal age. He carefully keeps from him, and from the speakers with whom he is associated, the least reference to the Mosaic law. This might be comparatively easy, if it lay before him as a written document, which he might at any time examine, comparing it with his own work, and expunging or modifying as the case might demand. But there would be something far more difficult. The Jewish liturgical writings, older than the time ascribed by most modern critics to the Book of Job, abound in references to this old law. They give it a great variety of names, such as statutes, judgments, ordinances, testimonies. See how this kind of language is multiplied in the 119 Psalm, and in others certainly older, if the 119. is to be carried down to a late date. Language is taxed to express this ardent devotion of the soul, this ecstatic love of the comparatively limited revelation God had as yet given to the world, and that, too, veiled, for the most part, under outward and ceremonial ordinances. Yet what a rapture does it call out for the spiritual mind: “O how love I Thy law! Thy word is very pure, therefore Thy servant loveth it; The entrance of Thy word giveth light; Great peace have they who love Thy testimonies; Thy precepts are my delight (שַׁעֲשֻׁעַי, in the plural, deliciæ meæ, my exceeding joy) sweet to my taste, yea, sweeter than the honey, or the droppings of the comb.” What care must it have taken to avoid anything of this kind! How still more difficult to keep clear of any such language as we first set forth, not referring to the Law, even indirectly, but deriving its spirit from it, and full of those remembrances of the sanctuary, and of the outward worship which were its fruit. All this kept out![65] not the slightest anachronism to be discovered, nothing but what is perfectly consistent with that far more ancient Patriarchal age to which the writer evidently wishes the reader to regard his imaginary hero and history as belonging. It is incredible. Such Dramatic Skill and Invention out of Harmony with the Idea of Inspiration, and even of the highest Order of Genius It would be wholly at war with that simplicity and truthfulness which we cannot separate from the idea of a holy and inspired writer. Such studied precaution would be inconsistent even with the lower human enthusiasm demanded for such a work of genius. It would simply be the genius of invention, and not even a miracle could carry it out of itself and into that higher sphere towards which it soars. Moreover, such a style of writing is inconsistent with any idea we can form of the earliest times. Modern fictitious writing has carried the art to its utmost capabilities, but even here it stops short (as from the very nature of the case it must) of the highest order of genius. It always fails when it attempts to meddle with the most sacred themes. We may confidently repeat it, therefore, that such success in such an effort, by a writer of the days of Solomon, is simply incredible. But why not, then, take it as it purports to be—a true story of the Patriarchal age—and a substantially true report of discourses arising out of it, given in that chanting semi-rhythmical style that we know was earliest employed for the expression of all thoughts of a higher order, or regarded as having an extraordinary value. It is the same reflective, meditative, self-repeating rhythm, requiring little or no outward artifice, that we see in some of the earliest chants in Genesis, in the Song of Miriam, and in the Oracles of Balaam, the Prophet and Poet of the early East. It was the same, probably, from which the later fixed style of Hebrew poetry derived its origin. There seems to be demanded some ancient work of great repute to be the standard of authority for the later parallelistic chanting, and to give it rule and fixedness; just as Homer became the model of the Hexameter for all later Epic poetry of the Greeks. Internal Truthfulness. Place of Job in Hebrew Literature There are other alleged stumbling-blocks, and other objections to the historical reality of the Book, such as the appearance of Satan in the Prologue, the round and double numbers in the narrative, and the theophany at the close, which may be treated elsewhere. In regard, however, to the substantial subject-matter of the story, it may well be asked, why may it not be received, as we receive the early narrations in Genesis? What is there in the testing, the sufferings, and the final integrity of Job, more difficult of belief than the similar account and similar lesson of Abraham’s templation, or of Jacob’s long probation, or of the strange vicissitudes of Joseph’s history, or of the exile and severe trials of Moses? Such questions it would, indeed, be difficult to answer; but the main thing here is that for which there have been cited these glowing passages from the Psalms, containing ideas so apropros to the author’s supposed times, but which have no counterpart in the record of his hero’s thoughts and sayings, either by way of resemblance or of contrast. The inference is a very rational one. It shows that Job lived—and the first reporter, too, we think—not only before the giving of the Mosaic Law, but at that still earlier time when there was, indeed, a most sublime theism, but when there had not yet been developed the forms or the idea of local outward worship in gathered assemblies. There were no temples, no sanctuaries, no sacred places. It was at the time when the family was the Church, in which the father was head and priest; when pious men knew each other, and held intercourse, as did Abraham and Melchizedeck, but when holy days and rites (except sacrifice), and outward collective worship, as such, were things unknown. That such things should have been before the time of Job, and yet without the most remote allusion to them in the Book, seems most incredible, even though the greatest pains had been taken to keep them out. The spirit of such ideas, and of such observances, would have somehow come in, in spite of every effort to exclude the letter. To this collective or temple worship, or sanctuary holiness, revelation had not yet educated even the pious mind. To say nothing, however, of inspiration, or of the divine purposes, and viewing it as a mere question of criticism, it may be maintained that the consistency of Hebrew literature, as we find it, demands that there should be assigned in it a very ancient place to the Book of Job. Such we believe, too, would be the almost unanimous decision of Rationalism, should a similar question, and on similar grounds, be raised in regard to Greek or Hindu writings. Ideas Of A Future Life Among Surrounding Nations Alleged to be more clear than those of the Hebrews At any date that may be taken for the Book of Job, there was, unquestionably, among the surrounding nations a belief in a future life that had assumed the form of a dogma possessed of a good degree of definiteness in regard to state and conceived local aspect. Such was the case even with Shemitic nations other than the Hebrew. The Syrians had it. Paréau has shown that such a belief existed among the early Arabians. There is proof of it, moreover, from the Koran, all the more satisfactory as it comes in incidentally by way of unquestioned reference. Repeatedly in the contests of Mohammed with the infidels of his day do they characterize as fables of the ancients,[66] as ideas once firmly held in the earlier simple world, but now regarded as antiquated and wholly obsolete, asatiru ’lawwalina, those doctrines of a future life, and of a resurrection, which he professed to revive and to urge upon them. If we may trust Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus, the most ancient Egyptians had a similarly clear belief. Says the latter, Lib. I., sec. 51, “The abodes of the living they call καταλύσεις, temporary lodging-places or inns, those of the departed (τετελευτηκότων, the dead, not as extinguished, or non-existent, but as a state of being), they call ἀϊδίους ὄικους, everlasting mansions.” The idea of the present life as a pilgrimage would seem akin to that expressed in the patriarchal language: “Pilgrims and strangers upon the earth,” and may have been derived from it; but there the Hebrew mind, and the Hebrew imagination was stayed. A home to that pilgrimage was indeed implied, and in that they rested. “They went out, not knowing whither they went,” nor making any inquiry, nor indulging in any fancy about it, but committing everything to their covenant God. The Egyptian imagination, on the other hand, unchecked by any divine purpose in the development of the doctrine, ran on and made a distinct Hadean world of it, with its distinctly conceived abodes. The idea being separated, too, almost wholly, from that of the personal God, or being independently held as something by itself, became gross and earthly, as though it were a living in catacombs and pyramids, and surrounded by a funereal imagery. Other ancient peoples pictured the thought with lighter and more cheerful accompaniments. We need not refer to the Chaldæans, the Persians, and the Hindoos, as early possessing the idea of a future life; for with them the rationalist has no difficulty. It is only in regard to the Jews that he finds it hard to believe in anything spiritual or unearthly. They could only have learned it from foreign sources; but, in regard to these foreign sources themselves, no questions need be raised. All is easy, except when some strange feeling—of the true nature of which they are, perhaps, not distinctly aware—prompts them to deny all traces of such ideas as originating in the Scriptures, or as being first held, or independently held, by the Hebrew mind. So far, however, as regards these surrounding nations, they are undoubtedly correct. They all had a more or less distinct doctrine of a future life. On that of the Greeks we need not dwell. In the times referred to, in the Iliad and the Odyssey, a local Hadean world of spirits was distinctly conceived and universally held. So was it among the people of Western Europe. The best testimony shows that the Druids, or Celtic priesthood, possessed it, even in that early day. The Veil thrown over the Doctrine in the Old Testament And now here is the wonder which has stumbled many. How is it that such a belief, so universal, so intimately connected, as it would seem, with the very life of religion in any form, and without which we find it difficult to conceive of its having any power for the soul—how is it that such a belief should have been so faint among the people who are called the people of God? Why so little mentioned, if mentioned at all, by those who were chosen as depositaries of the great world-ideas, or the truths by which the race was finally to be regenerated? The wonder is enhanced by the fact that this Hebrew people, the pious among them, had the most exalted ideas of the Divine Being, and the Divine Holiness, so far surpassing all who seemed to be before them, in a distinct conception of the other doctrine. How is it that in Homer the belief is so clearly expressed, whilst in Job it is so veiled? It is altogether stranger from the fact that in Homer there seems little or no demand for it—no moral demand, we mean—whilst in Job the attending spiritual circumstances are such as would appear to call for it in almost every appeal, whether of charge or response. It would have cleared up the great debate at once. So we would have thought. Instead of being used, however, for any such purpose, it seems actually repressed when about to make its appearance. In places where it may be said to have actually broken through the surrounding darkness, it is only for a moment that it shines. It is laid aside; the gloom returns; the old difficulties again crowd the path of their ever-circling argument. So is it elsewhere in the Old Scriptures. The more pious the mind, the more exalted its conceptions of God, the greater the reserve on this point; so that even when it seems to be expressed, or implied, the greatest care is used to exhibit its dependence on the higher idea. The personal God is ever the controlling as well as the fundamental thought: “Thou wilt show me the way of life;” “I shall be satisfied when I awake in Thy likeness;” “Thou wilt guide me by Thy counsel, and afterwards receive me to glory.”[67] In other cases, it is simply the expression of the divine care for man, and the strange importance attached to his acts and moral condition; as when Job says, Job 14:3, “Upon such a one dost Thou open Thine eye, and bring me into judgment with Thee?” “What is man that Thou shouldst be so mindful of him?” Again, it is the expression of a soul absorbed in Deity, as it were: “Whom have I in Heaven, or upon the earth, but Thee?” No mention is made of another life, but the power, as we have said, is there; the dogmatic presence is simply veiled in the splendor of the higher idea. Reasons for this Reserve Now there must have been some divine purpose in all this. May we not reverently conclude that such a reserve, in respect to the precious idea of the human immortality, was for the very purpose of preserving it in its highest strength and purity? All other nations had marred the doctrine. They had early received it, and early perverted it. They exercised upon it all the license of an unrestrained imagination. They turned it into fables. They deformed it in every way; or, in endeavoring to add to its mythical interest, they took from it all its moral power. God did not mean thus to give up His own people to their fancies. He had some better thing for them, especially for the more pious and spiritual in Israel. Hence this veil upon the sacred idea, and its indissoluble connection with the divine. It was not because the Hebrews were deficient in imagination. The vulgar belief in a ghost-world, to which we have referred (see note, p. 13), shows that they let it rove, just as all other ancient peoples did, and even to an extent which required divine legislation for its suppression. We can not compare the mythical fancies that seem so universally prevalent with the reserve that was maintained in the Book of Job, or in the utterances of David, Solomon, and the Prophets, without acknowledging the presence of a divine restraint, making the Jewish literature, in this, as well as in its sublime theistic aspect, so different from that of all surrounding or cotemporary nations. Objections to the Hebrew Scriptures. Alleged Superiority of the Greeks. Homer, Pindar, et al And yet this very thing has been urged as an argument against the Bible, and against the spirituality of the Old Testament writers. The very fact that it was esteemed too awful a doctrine for utterance, or even for the imagination, has been used as a testimony against its existence in any form. Witness the effort to explain away every passage which may seem, in any way, directly or indirectly, capable of such a meaning. The Greeks, it has been said, were far beyond them in the development of the doctrine of another life. As early as Homer, and long before Homer—for it could not have sprung up at once—they had a defined topography of the Hadean land. Besides the mysterious spirit-world in its general aspect, as graphically detailed in the XI. Book of the Odyssey, there was the more special abode of the blessed, according to the Greek conception of blessedness. Beyond the earth, or at the extremity of the earth, ἐς πείρατα γαίης, Odyssey, iv. 563, they had their “Elysian Plain, where presided in judgment the golden-haired Rhadamanthus, where life is ever free from care and toil, where tempest never comes, nor rain nor snow invade, but evermore sweet-breathing gales of Zephyrus refresh the souls of men.” Hesiod gives the same picture, Works and Days, 154; and adds to it, as a then current mythology, the conception of “The Isles of the Blessed.” ἐν μακἀρων νήσοισιν ἀκηδέα θυμὸν ἔχοντες. Of which Pindar, not long afterwards, gives such a glowing description, Olymp. II. 110[68] (Boeckh): “Where the sun is ever shining, where the souls of the just spend a tearless eternity, ἄδακρυν νέμονται αἰῶνα (or a tearless existence); whilst those of a still higher degree “Take the way of Jove that leads to Saturn’s tower, where Ocean’s gales breathe round the isles of the blessed, where flowers of gold and fruits immortal grow.” In comparison with this, how poor, as some would estimate it, is the dark, shadowy, unlocalized, and wholly indefinite conception of the Old Testament writers, if it can be called a conception at all. Greater Moral Power of this Old Testament Reserve. Its connection with a Pure Theism To a true theological insight, however, there are two thoughts which must reverse the scale, and lead to a very different conclusion. In the first place, there is in this Greek picture but the dimmest idea of God (if there is any such, except in the local designations where divine names seem to be employed), or of any divine righteousness. It is such a view as might be entertained by a writer, who, in another place, Pind., Nem. Job 6:1, makes us all the children of nature, gods as well as men. The second thought is its utter lack of moral power. We feel this as we read, and find it confirmed by the fact of the little influence the Greek Hadean conception actually had upon their moral or religious life. In the Hebrew conception, as held by the pious mind, the idea of God, so prominent, so controlling, more than makes up for its dimness, and more than fills out all its scenic or local deficiency. “Thou wilt show me the way of life;” “O that Thou wouldst lay me up in Hades,” Job 14; “Thou wilt call, and I will answer; Thou wilt have regard to the work of Thy hands.” To say nothing now of such a triumphant outburst as we have, Job 19:25, “I know that my Redeemer liveth;” or such clear hopes as are expressed, Psalms 17:15, “I shall behold Thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake, Thy likeness;” the comparison might be rested on one of the briefest declarations of Scripture, in which death is contemplated as a going to God, and the whole idea of immortality is reduced to a single trust in some undefined blessedness. As Psalms 31:6 : בידך אפקיד רוחי, “Into Thy hands do I commit my spirit; Thou hast redeemed me; Lord, God of truth.” It matters but little whether we regard this declaration as made in extremis, or in view of some great danger. It is, in either view, the committing of the whole being unto God, as something belonging to Him, in virtue of an eternal relation, expressed by the word, פדיתה אותי, “Thou hast redeemed me,” and the covenant idea appearing in אֱמֶת, which ever means truth, as trust or faithfulness, or truth in its personal rather than in its abstract or speculative aspect. “Into Thy hands;” that is all; but how immensely does it transcend in moral power—in “the power of an endless life,”—all those Homeric, Hesiodean, and Pindaric pictures which some would regard as so rich in comparison with the Hebrew poverty. Comparison of the Early Hindu and Shemitic Belief. Merx’ Claim of Superiority for the former This lack of a true moral and theological insight is strikingly, though unwittingly, shown by Merx (Das Gedicht von Hiob., p. 10), where, in respect to this belief in another life, he asserts the superiority of the Vedas to the Bible. “In the representations of such an existence after death,” he proceeds to say, “there is a deep difference between the people of our race (the Arian) and the Shemitic. The latter know no Isles of the blest, where the noble heroes live. All that is included in that word hero seems to them a reckless audacity. The old men of renown (בני שם, or men of name), appear to them as impudent evil doers. The Semites, in consequence of living with their herds in the plains, and shunning the mountain peaks, fail in the development of the loftier, energies. It was otherwise with our ancestral kindred, as we learn from the monuments of their religion. It is true that, in the Vedas, allusions to a life after death do not often occur. They had too much to do with the present world. Still, as a reward for piety, there was held to be admission to the abodes of the Heavenly Powers.” As a proof of the superiority of the Hindu to the Shemitic belief in this respect, he gives us passages from the Rigveda, ix. 113, 7–11, in the rhythmical version of Prof. Roth. Da, wo der Schimmer nie erlöscht, Zur Welt des Sonnenlichtes hin, Der ewigen unsterblichen— Dahin, O Soma, bringe mich. Wo König ist Vivaswant’s Sohn, Und wo des Himmels Innerstes, Wo jene Wasserquellen sind, Dort lasse mich unstcrblich sein! Wo man behaglich sich ergeht, Im dritten hohen Himmelsraum, Wo Schimmer alle Räume füllt Dort lasse mich unsterblich sein! Wo Wunsch und Wohlgefallen ist, Die Höh’, zu der die Sonne klimmt Wo Lust ist und Befriedigung, Dort lasse mich unsterblich sein: Wo Freuden und Ergötzungen, Wo jubelndes Entzücken wohnt, Wo sich ein jeder Wunsch erfüllt, Dort lasse mich unsterblich sein. Other extracts are made, and of a similar kind. There is a striking sameness in their imagery—all joy and glitter. The first thought that occurs is a doubt whether a writing containing such ideas, and so expressed, can really be regarded as very ancient. There is something about this Epicurean Heaven so full of sunshine,[69] with such a glee, as it were, arising from the immediate gratification of every desire, and the instantaneous fulfilment of every wish, that is inconsistent with the gravity, the awed contemplative spirit, and solemn reticence of great antiquity. The second thought is its destitution of moral power. It is a mere picture of what is held best on earth, transferred to a supposed higher sphere. It is a pure poetic fancy, the product of the Brahminic imagination, artistic and artificial. It was never inspired in the highest sense. It was not born in any soul travail, nor nursed by the contemplation of any holy or divine idea. God is not in it as the chief and controlling thought. Its heaven is not made by His presence. The mind that dreamed it Was not wholly atheistical, but it had no such conception as that of a covenant God and Redeemer, educating men in their first lesson of immortality through the ideas inseparable from such a relation. In other words, these Vedaic, Homeric, and Pindaric fancies, so extolled above the dim Hebraic conceptions, were lacking in that element to which we have so repeatedly alluded, σύναμις ζωῆς ἀκατάλυτου, “the power of an endless life,” of a being indissoluble, because of its connection with the divine. The Vedaic theology, even in its pantheistic mysticism, has no true recognition of this. To its outward, or Epicurean picture, it is wholly lacking. It knows nothing of the αἰώνιος ζωὴ of the Scriptures, or the true immortality. The sonorous refrain— Dort lasse mich unsterblich sein, carries with it no higher conception than that of mere undyingness. It is but a living on in some way differing from the present simply by a higher joyousness, in some higher locality, whether above the Himalaya, or on the summits of Olympus, or even in the skies themselves, with the gods as merely a higher class of companions. The Scriptures were intended for a higher education than this, and hence their very silence is ofttimes more expressive, more suggestive of ideas that are full of life than the most positive language of other ancient writings. “O that I knew where I might find Him.” How poor this groping, sighing despair, it may be said, in comparison with the rapture which Merx gives us as a specimen of the higher and clearer ideas of our Arian kinsmen! But Job’s darkness is better than its light. The subdued trust of the Psalmist is better than its vain soaring: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the death-shade (the terra umbrarum, see Job 10:21; Job 38:17), I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.” Sombre as are the thoughts suggested by the Hebrew Tzalmaveth, the idea of the redeeming Presence gives it a glory transcending all the sunlight, all the shimmer, and sparkle of the Vedaic hymn. Merx proceeds farther with this contrast, attempting to sustain it by reference to the modes of burial or burning that arose from the different views entertained of death. In every thing of the kind the superiority is assigned to the Arian races. The translation of Enoch had been regarded as an early intimation of a higher life with God, to which one was taken who had “walked with God” on earth. But the contemned Shemites must be robbed even of this. “How widely different,” says Merx, that is, how inferior, “were the views of the Hebrews, of whom we must not judge from any thing in the Enoch legend (der Henochsage), since the Hebrew origin of it is more than doubtful.”[70] It is certainly a curious phase of “the higher criticism,” as it calls itself, this constant tendency to depreciate the Shemitic Scriptures, whilst never allowing a doubt as to the antiquity or value of any thing, however poor its supporting testimony, that they may choose to place in contrast with them. Moral Danger in separating the Idea of a Future Life from a Pure Theism. Modern Spiritualism and Modern Science Still the fact remains a very strange one, especially as judged by the ordinary criticism, that in this peculiar Shemitic race, and at this very early day, there should have been such a deep religiousness, such a lofty piety, and yet with a conception of a future life so very dim, if it existed at all. We wonder most to find it so deeply veiled in this Book of Job, where the clearer view seems so greatly needed. The divine wisdom, however, in such a veiling, such a reserve, will be the more readily seen and acknowledged, when we think of the wild fables and mischievous notions to which the unguarded Hadean doctrine gave rise among other peoples of antiquity, and especially as it became more and more dissevered from any regulating divine idea. Of this we have already spoken. It remains to say that in our own times we find a still more striking proof of the moral danger of such a severance. The modern “spiritualism,” as it calls itself, would be unworthy of grave notice here, were it not as a manifestation of such a tendency. It is becoming almost wholly naturalistic, and even atheistical. Its continual babble about natural laws shows its strong desire to keep out, as far as possible, the ideas of God and moral causation. The same may be said in respect to some aspects of modern science. How strong the aversion which is manifested, in certain quarters, to the idea of a personal God, with its necessarily associated ideas of Providence and Prayer! They interfere with the doctrine of fixed evolution, or of uninterrupted physical causation. And yet it is most worthy of note, that there is no such aversion, to the mere idea of a post-mortem existence. Some who have gone to the very verge of atheism have expressed a willingness to patronize the other dogma, provided it can be presented in some scientific form. Separate it from the thought of God, or of any dread moral government; reduce it to a mere physical fact, and there need be no objection to it. There is nothing in the way. The theories of the origin of life, as held by many, are quite consistent with its continuance in some finer organization, or in some higher physical development. Atheism and Materialism not Inconsistent with some Doctrine of Future Being In this way, the most crass materialism may have its future state, possessing, perhaps, a memory of the former; since memory and consciousness are merely the results of organization, and may thus be carried through from one to the other. Even atheism cannot wholly shut out the idea, or the phantom, if it would. It may have a ghostly world of the future, even as it makes a ghost of the present. It may have its spectres and its demons, all the product of natural laws, even if it has no God. It cannot escape the thought of the fearful by denying the existence of any power above nature. Who knows what forms of being such an omnipotent and eternal nature may produce? And who can say that they may not be inconceivably dire and monstrous? If one says, that cannot be so,—there must be something in the universe, as a whole, which prevents the predominance of what we call evil, whether physical or moral—the question at once arises, how does he know that from any science, with its infinitesimal experience? He is unconsciously taking refuge in a higher doctrine, or borrowing ideas from the contemned theological sphere of thought. Even the Democritic, or the Atomic philosophy, whether in its most ancient or its most modern form, may have its future state. Among the endless phenomena of the physical universe, man may re-appear; the very same man, so far as there can be any such thing as personal identity. Given infinite time, and infinite space, and infinite variety, of working, and the atoms which compose his brain may come together in the same proportion, site, and arrangement as before. When this takes place, there he is again, with the same feelings, thoughts, knowledge, memory, consciousness,—all being, as before, simply the results of that peculiar material organization which alone makes him what he is. The idea of another life after death is not, in itself, an absolute essential of religion; since, as Genesis and this Book of Job most clearly prove, there may be even a lofty piety where there is only the dimmest conception of such a state. In its perversion, on the other hand, it may even become the ally of irreligion. Severed from the divine idea, it may be the parent of the most monstrous superstitions, or link itself with some gross doctrine of a physical metempsychosis—becoming, in either case, a more evil thing than the densest skepticism. A Pure Theism To Be First Taught The Great Lesson of the Book—The Absolute Sovereignty of God The distinctions made in the preceding pages have been the more largely dwelt upon as furnishing a reason, we may reverently suppose, why, in the early revelation, this doctrine of a future life is kept so much under the veil. It is that the other and the diviner doctrine may be the more fully learned, and firmly fixed in the human mind, as the conservative principle, the purifying power of all other religious beliefs. The subordinate idea, as we have said, is not wholly excluded from the Book of Job. It now and then appears amid the darkness; but there is made no use of it in enforcing the great lesson, which is, to teach the absolute moral sovereignty of God, and the unqualified duty of human submission, as to a demand carrying in itself its own inherent righteousness. The theism, the theodicé of the Book is its great feature. Never were the divine personality, the divine holiness, the divine government unchallengeable, in a word, the absolute divine sovereignty, more sublimely set forth. Here there is no reserve: God most wise and good, most just and holy, to be acknowledged as such whether we can see it or not; God who “maketh one vessel to honor and another to dishonor,” who “setteth on high or casteth down,” who “bindeth up or breaketh in pieces,” who is to be regarded as having the holiest reasons for all this, yet “giveth no account of His ways,” allowing “no one to touch His hand, and say unto Him what doest Thou?” Not the Solution of a Problem—Not a Doctrine of Compensation Such is the lesson taught. This is the problem solved, if we may use the language most commonly employed in reference to the Book. We do not, however, regard it as the best. The idea that the poem, or drama, of Job is intended for the solution of a problem, or as the authoritative decision of a debate, has led astray, we think, from a right view of its true character. There is no objection to the word, if it is used simply as a name for the great lesson undoubtedly taught, and which Job so thoroughly learned, namely,—this holy divine sovereignty,—but when we attempt to specify any other issue regarded as involved in the arguments of the speakers, and as finally decided by the divine appearing, we fall into endless confusion, as is evinced by the number of varying and discordant theories to which such a view of the Book has given rise. The design certainly cannot be to teach a future state. What has been already said is sufficient in respect to that point. Neither can it be to prepare the way for such a doctrine by furnishing representations which drive to its necessary acknowledgment as the only solution of the alleged problem.[71] The hope of compensation such views might seem to involve would be out of harmony with that other and greater acknowledgment which Job at last makes so unreservedly, and some idea of which seems to pervade the Book from beginning to end. In respect to all such ideas of compensation, whether in this life or in any other, it is sufficient to say that no mention is made of them in the divine address, whatever may have been the subsequent fact; they are not assigned as having any bearing upon Job’s affliction, or as clearing up, in any way, the mystery that surrounds it. The same may be said in regard to any disciplinary purpose, on which Elihu so largely insists. The divine voice makes no allusion to it. The criminations of his friends, Job’s assertions of his integrity (in those most eloquent concluding appeals of chapters 29, 30, 31), and Elihu’s “pretentious wisdom,” as some have characterized it, are all dismissed as being, so far as the great mystery is concerned, but a “darkening of counsel by words without knowledge.” various views of the book Delitzsch, Merx, Umbreit, etc “Why do afflictions befall the righteous man?” “This,” says Delitzsch, “is the question, the answering of which is made the theme of the Book of Job.” “This answer,” he proceeds, “if we look at the conclusion of the Book alone, is, that such afflictions are the way to a two-fold blessedness.” The first of these is the restoration of the earthly good of which he had been deprived. This, however, Delitzsch pronounces inadequate as a solution, and not, in general, true. The second is the internal blessedness which the righteous man finds through such a process. “It is the important truth,” he says, “that there is a suffering of the righteous which is not a decree of wrath, but a dispensation of love, and this is the heart of the Book of Job.” To this general view he gives two divisions: 1. The afflictions of the righteous are a means of discipline and purification; 2. They are proofs and tests of character coming from the love and regard of God. In short, “they are disciplinary and they are testing.” All this may be admitted as, in some way, taught in the Book, or truly suggested by it. So, also, there are other theories presented in various ways by other writers, but all coming to nearly the same thing. Some express themselves with more freedom in respect to the question of fact, whether the Book really furnishes the solution it seems to propose. Merx, the latest interpreter, does not hesitate to pronounce it a failure. After saying much of the Vergeltungslehre of the Mosaic religion, and of the Old Testament generally, and of this Book as being polemically opposed to such a doctrine of retribution—all of which Delitzsch justly estimates as “a phantom of the Rationalists”—he goes on to speak, in the highest terms, of the artistic excellence of the work, patronizing it even to extravagance, but does not shrink from saying that the solution it proposes is not only inadequate but false. The great problem is still unsolved, and the writer intimates that it all comes from the fact that the author of the Book was ignorant of “the Critical Philosophy.” “Of this,” says Merx, with more naïveness than he ascribes to the old poet, “he does not seem to have had the faintest notion.” How the Critical Philosophy would have saved the difficulty, or rather would have shown it to be wholly imaginary, he endeavors to tell us, but it seems far less clear than the Book of Job itself, and may be dismissed with the same sentence of failure and inadequateness. Still the objections made by such commentators as Umbreit and Merx have much force in them as applied to many of the so-called solutions. A stronger objection to some of them is that they receive no countenance from the prologue, or from the address of Jehovah at the close,—where, if anywhere, such a clear solution of the problem might have been expected. Key in the Prologue—A Super-earthly Probation If we are to judge it solely as an artistic production, then the plan and design of it are to be sought in the prose introduction, just as we look there for the design of a Greek drama,—and this without any nice discussion of the unimportant question, whether the book is to be called dramatic, any more than lyrical or epic. Here is a preface with the evident design of explaining what the mere poem might leave unknown, and without which, as has been tersely said, the dramatic speeches would be artistically a mere torso,—a trunk without a head. In this introduction we do find something which, in the absence of other considerations, we should be required to take as the leading idea of the work. It is, that there are reasons for human events, even for the sufferings of good men, that may wholly transcend this earthly sphere, having no reference to any human probation, for its own sake, either by way of discipline or retribution, but designed to serve a purpose in the super-human world. It is a problem for the בני אלהים the Sons of God, one in which they are interested, by which they are to be influenced, but in which a man is the sufferer, the testing patient through whom the truth is exhibited. Thus, earth may be the theatrum in which dramatic events are represented for the instruction of higher beings. It may be to show them that there is such a thing as human virtue, that man immersed in nature, and exposed to the strongest temptations, may “serve God for nought,” that is, disinterestedly, or from pure love of the service; as Job did, both in his prosperity and in his perfect submission, at last, to a dispensation unexplained and inexplicable. Such a thought seems plainly in the prologue; but be it what it may, there is a conceivable design of this kind sufficiently great and beneficent to justify the ways of God, even to our reason, without any demand of compensation to the one by whom the example or the test is made,—especially in view of the fact that such a demand, or even such an expectation, would be the most direct proof of its failure.[72] The Lesson of Unqualified Submission The design may be discipline or punishment, having reference solely to the individual. All that need to be maintained is, that it is not necessarily such. They may be admitted as subordinate aims, in connection with something higher and more universal. As thus subordinate, they may even become prominent in the dramatic teaching, as seems to be the case in Job, and yet without furnishing the idea, or the grounds, of the great lesson. Or it may be the design, aside from these, or in connection with these, to teach the lesson of absolute and unconditional submission to the divine will, and an acknowledgment of its necessary wisdom and goodness, whether we see it or not, either in the present or in any other life. This is quite different from a stoical fatality, or from any mere arbitrariness. It is not that the divine will makes right, but that it constitutes for us an evidence of its absolute righteousness that is not to be called in question. The because, we may say, has reference to our judgments. He does it because it is absolutely right in itself; we say it is right (in the absence of other knowledge) because He does it. As the Psalmist says, Job 39:10 : “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it.” It is a theism inadequate, impure, tainted by some ideas of fatality, or of a power higher than God, that hesitates in making this full and absolute affirmation. The reasons of the divine procedure in any particular case may be wholly or partially hidden. They may have reference to the individual experience, discipline, or purgation of the sufferer, and yet be wholly unknown to him. Job vehemently asserts his innocence. There is something noble in his expostulations; it was not a vain display of self-righteousness; he was driven to it by unjust criminations; and yet there might have been hidden evils whose existence his inexplicable sufferings should have led him to suspect, aside from the question whether they were, or were not, the sole cause of the calamities which had come upon him. He should have searched for them as the Psalmist did, and prayed for self-knowledge. His earnest appeal to God: “O show me wherefore Thou thus dealest with me,” is indeed very touching, but it manifests too serene a confidence in his entire integrity. It is not like the prayer of David: “Cleanse Thou me from secret faults;” or of him who said: “Make me to know wisdom in the inward parts;” or of the later exile, who so fervently prayed: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; prove me, and know my thoughts, and see if there be any evil way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” If it be said that Job was very defective here as compared with some others of the Old Testament worthies, it may be urged, on his behalf, that the accusations of his friends, charging him with open transgressions of which he knew he was not guilty, led him away into a mode of defence just in respect to them, but not maintainable before the All-knowing, as he himself afterwards most clearly saw. Reasons Transcending Human Knowledge But aside from this, or along with this disciplinary purpose, there may have been other reasons belonging to the ἅῤῥητα, the ineffable, the mysterious, transcending, perhaps, the human faculties, but which he was bound to admit as possible, however much he or others might fail in finding an explanation of the severe trial to which he had been exposed. “He giveth not account of his ways.” Such a view may be characterized as harsh and arbitrary, but it is perfectly consistent with the highest estimate of the Divine clemency. “God knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.” He hath pity upon man. Even the thought of his depravity, the fact that “the imagination of the heart of man is evil from his youth,” is mentioned (Genesis 9:21) as one of the grounds of the divine compassion. But he knoweth, too—are we not warranted, from the tenor of revelation, in saying it—that the loftiest height to which the human soul can attain, and ultimately its highest blessedness, is the acknowledgment of God’s absolute right, as the acknowledgment of His absolute glory! It is that to which the human soul of the Saviour attained when, in the great struggle with Satan, in the mysterious and inexplicable agony, he said, “Thy will be done.” The Absolute Divine Sovereignty before any Doctrine of Human Destiny Thus regarded, the value of a pure theism, in which the absolute divine sovereignty holds its sovereign place, is beyond that of every other dogma.73 Without it, all other religious teaching may become not only vain but mischievous. Without it, the doctrine of a future life may become the source of the greatest moral evils, leading, at last, to atheism, after having been the ally of the grossest superstitions. On this account, may we say again, was there need of a reserve that might hold in check the roving imagination,—of a veil, not wholly obscuring, but allowing only the faintest glimpses, now and then, to keep the soul from utterly sinking. Such a schooling of the chosen people, as the world’s representatives, was demanded, we may say, until the other great and conserving truth should be perfectly learned, and indelibly stamped upon the soul. Far better a dim shadowy belief in a future life, or a mere feeling without any distinct conception of state or locality, or resolving itself into a pure elementary trust in a covenant God,—far better this than an unrestrained imaginative picturing, destitute of all true moral power, and to which the thought of God, as a moral sovereign, is, in a great measure, alien, if not wholly lost. Far better the old patriarchal and Hebrew reserve in this respect than such a Hades, and such an Elysium, as we read of in the Greek poets, or any such rhapsodies as the Rationalist so triumphantly quotes for us from the Rigveda. Among the many other solutions, then, of the Book of Job, this seems certainly entitled to respectful attention. It is the teaching of such a theism, whilst throwing into the back-ground, to say the least, not only the dogma of a future life, but every thought of compensation,74 discipline, or anything else, that might interfere with the absolute unconditionality of the greater doctrine. The Theophany Its One Idea: The Divine Omnipotence. God “can do All Things” If the solution of the problem, as some call it, is to be found anywhere, it is in the address of the Almighty. That is what every reader naturally expects, and is disappointed, to some extent, in not finding. No explanation, however, is given of the cause of Job’s mysterious sufferings, nor any decision made in regard to the matters in debate between him and his antagonists. Instead of that, one idea, predominant and exclusive, pervades every part of that most sublime exhibition. It is that of power, omnipotent power, first as exhibited in the great works of creation,75 and afterwards in those greater productions of nature that seem next in rank to the creative power itself. Nothing is said of any purpose in the great trial, or of anything which should be made known to Job as preparatory to his submission. There is no hint in respect to ultimate compensation as a motive for endurance, such as is held out in the Gospel to the Christian: “They that endure unto the end, shall be saved.” There is no allusion to any scheme of discipline, no suggestion of afflictions which are only evils apparently, since they are designed for purification, or as a preparative for a higher blessedness. The curtain is not withdrawn to disclose to us any vision of optimism as a motive for the creature’s submission. Nothing of this kind appears, but only that idea of power, omnipotent power, thundered forth in tones that seem intended to silence rather than to convince. However strange it may seem, this is all the voice we hear, startling and confounding at first, but soon causing us to forget everything in a feeling of its sublime appropriateness: “Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?” What knowest thou of the divine purposes in thy own creation, or in that of the universe? What right, therefore, hast thou to challenge any of them as unrighteous or unwise, much less to dream of any fatality, or of any nature of things by which they might be baffled, whether they be purposes of justice or of clemency? It would seem as though its only design was to overwhelm, and it is overwhelming. Job falls upon his face and acknowledges that he has learned the lesson. It is not mere terror. Deep is the reverence; but there is also the conviction of the understanding and the conscience: “I know that Thou canst do all things, and that no purpose76 of Thine can be hindered.” Had he doubted it before? It would certainly seem so, whether at the time he had been fully conscious of it or not. The Old Idea of Fate—The Name El Shaddai as Opposed to it A feeling of something irresistible in the vast surrounding nature, something with which it is vain for man to struggle, and against which not even a divine power could help him, shows itself, more or less, in all the early heathen religions, as it appears afterwards in the systems of philosophy. They called it fate, μοῖρα, doom, destiny. It was superior to gods as well as to men. It was irrational, inconsistent with any true theistic conception, but its ever-pressing nearness, as well as the vastness and indefinableness of its aspect, gave it an overpowering weight. That some feeling of this kind, some beginning of a fatalistic idea, may have been in the minds of God’s people, tainting even the otherwise pure theism of the patriarchs, would seem probable from the stress laid upon that assuring epithet, אל שדי, occurring so often in Genesis and Job, and furnishing such strong evidence of the antiquity of the latter Book. “Almighty God,” אל שדי, Deus potentissimus, omnipotens, παντοκράτωρ, the strong God, Deus sufficiens, אשר לא יבצר ממנו מאומה, “from whom nothing can be hindered,” to whom nothing can fail—this was the great name of strength and encouragement which God Himself employs to cheer the hearts of those early men, and keep them from fainting in their pilgrimage: אני אל שדי, “I am El Shaddai, therefore, fear ye not, but walk before me.” Thus regarded, too, much of the language of the Old Testament respecting the divine power, the divine sovereignty, and the extreme jealousy that guards against the least impeachment of these attributes, loses all its seeming harshness. Like the denunciations of idolatry, it is conservative of pure religion. It is a protest against the nature-worship, the fatalistic ideas that were everywhere coming in to pervert the true theistic conception. Thus viewed, it is the language of paternal Deity, encouraging to faith and submission as the only blessedness of the human state: “Fear not, for I can do all things.” The Fatalistic Idea betrays Itself in the Speeches of Job and his Friends Such a misgiving dread of some insurmountable fatality, putting his case beyond the reach even of any divine help, seems to lurk in the speeches of Job at the times of his extremest despair. The friends were not pressed to it, as he was, by an anguish unendurable. They had not his experience to breed a doubt. Free from pain and trouble, they could theorize complacently on the divine excellencies, “speaking good words for God,” as Job taunts them, and expatiating at their ease on this attribute of omnipotence. Here the speeches of Zophar and Bildad are peculiarly eloquent, however ill-timed. Job, too, is roused to emulation, and strives to surpass them (see especially Job 25, 26). And yet this very style of speech seems, now and then, to betray a want of the confidence it so loudly assumes. The speaker seems to indulge in it as a mode of fortifying himself in a faith not wholly free from a lurking skepticism. None of them, however, ever intimated a doubt of the justice and wisdom of God. In his extreme anguish, Job may seem to be approaching some thought of the kind, but immediately revolts from it, as from the edge of an abyss. He cannot give it up: God is good; He is righteous; He is most pure and holy; but may it not be that there is something, be it fate, be it nature, be it an invisible, fiendish77 power, that baffles all His mercy and all His wisdom. “The earth is given into the hands of the wicked,” Job 9:24; is this the work, or the permission, or the weakness of God? אם לא אפו מי הוא, “if not, who then?” Would there be such sore evils? Above all, would they come upon the innocent, if he could help it? Is there not a nature, a fixed order of things (as Job, according to Merx, would have said, had he understood “the Critical Philosophy,” or the distinction between “the moral and the practical reason,”) which cannot be set aside? The Divine Address adapted to this Fatalistic Idea.—Job’s Renunciation of it He has not ventured to say it openly in words; the very thought seemed to demand repression whenever it showed itself, however dimly, to the consciousness. It was there, however, as is shown by the language of the divine address so directly adapted to such a state of soul, and the closing acknowledgment of Job, expressing a new and clear conviction that admits no doubt. It is absolute certainty,—the certainty of sight, as compared with any abstract theorizing, or any traditional “hearing by the ear:” I know,”—it is like the ecstatic assurance he had of his Redeemer’s living—“I know78 that Thou canst do all things; and that nothing is hindered from Thee.” It is as though he had said: Now I am sure of it; if the continuance of my misery is not from Thy want of goodness and mercy, much less is it from Thy lack of power; nothing is too hard for Thee; no nature can baffle Thee; no fate stands in Thy way; no invisible power of evil, however mighty, can prevent Thee from “doing according to Thy sovereign will, either in the armies of heaven, or among the inhabitants of the earth.” He bows before this divine utterance as conclusive, not only of its own truth, but in respect to everything in the character and government of God that may have been, either directly or indirectly, called in question. It is Thou then who hast done it, and therefore is it holy, just, and wise. Once shown that it is truly God’s act—not nature’s, merely, or Satan’s—and that, if it had not been such, everything in nature that stood in the way would have been crushed out if necessary,—all else follows to the believing soul. Thou hast done it, therefore, is it right? I ask no farther. “Surely have I uttered what I did not understand; things wonderful,” far beyond my knowledge. But, oh! “hear me now; let me speak; let me ask of Thee, and do Thou give me knowledge. By the hearing of the ear had I heard of Thee; but now Thou comest near, and I confess Thee as the Almighty. Wherefore, I reject myself (my arguments), and repent in dust and ashes.” There is deep feeling here, as of one who has come to a new view of himself and of his relations to God. It is to be noted, however, that it is not from any disclosure of the causes of his sufferings, nor from any hope held out of their alleviation, but altogether from this thunder voice, the tones of which, however varied in the presentation of the great natural or the great supernatural, ever modulate themselves to this one key of Omnipotent, unchallengeable power. God the Only Power in the Universe Not only no other God, but no other power than God in the universe. Compare Isaiah 44:6 : “I am the first, and I am the last; beside me there is no God.” It reminds us of the oft-repeated Arabic formula, so concise, and yet so full: No God but God, which must have entered most significantly into the early religion of the Arabians, as we may judge from its prevailing use in the later Koranic. The Mohammedan fatalism, as it has been called, may sometimes have a superstitious aspect, but, in its pious form, as thus expressed, it is rather a protest against a physical fatalism, or against any other power than God, such as is made here in the challenge of Shaddai, the Almighty. There is not only no other personal Deity, but no power in Nature, or in Fate, or in any system of things, that can, for a moment, stand in His way, if the vindication of His holiness, His wisdom, or His goodness, demand its breach, or its removal. Job’s Musing Soliloquy and Confession—Note on the Genuineness of the Elihu Portion In this view, we see the force of that musing, wondering language which intervenes, ver. 3, where Job seems, without any reason, to be repeating to himself the words of the Almighty, as though they struck him in a new aspect, or suggested something which he had not thought of before: “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?” They seem so strange, that Merx and others, with a lack of critical insight, we think, reject them as an interpolation or a misplacement. As first uttered by Jehovah, we have reason to regard them as most directly applicable to the speech of Elihu, who, although uttering great truths (the soundest ethical doctrine, and approaching the nearest of all the speakers to a solution of the supposed problem), had yet done it in a somewhat pretentious manner. As the last speaker, too, he may be regarded as first noticed in the divine address. It does not militate against this that it is said: “The Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind.” There is nothing in the way of regarding these first words as the briefest allowable notice of the man whose voice had just done sounding,79 stopped, as it were, by the sudden interruption, and then followed by the turning, in a different style, to Job the subject of the general answer: “But gird up now thy loins, like a man; I have something to say to thee.” In this second appeal, Job 42:3, Job seems to take the language to himself, and yet in a manner which shows that it had not been his first thought. In a sort of dreamy maze, he says over the former words of Jehovah, which had made so deep an impression on his mind: “Who is this? Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” Yes; it is I. I am the man; I see it now; I am that man who has uttered what he understood not. It is a still deeper feeling of what he had said before: “Surely I am vile (Merx, weak—dogmaticé), what shall I answer Thee? I lay my hand upon my mouth. Once, twice have I spoken, but I will not answer. I say no more.” “Who is this (dost Thou ask) that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” To whomsoever else they are applicable, surely they apply to me. In his deep confession and self-abasement, he thinks only of himself and his position in the sight of God. And herein lies the difference between Job and the others. They stand in amazement, it may be, awed by this display of the divine majesty, yet without prostration or confession. Still confident in their own wisdom, they may actually regard these thunder-tones of omnipotence as a decision in their favor, as their vindication, in fact, instead of their rebuke. For had not they, also, all of them, expatiated on this idea of the divine power, to the crushing and humiliation of the trembling Job? The repetition of the words, “who is this?” has the appearance of interrupting the train of thought and feeling. On this account, the critic rejects what a closer insight into this rapt, soliloquizing, ejaculatory style, shows to be in harmony with the tone and spirit of the scene. The seeming irregularity gives vivid evidence, not only of its artistic, but of its actual scenic truthfulness. It supplies that emotional connection which carries us over all seeming logical or philological breaks. Job Distinguished from the Others by his Submission For what else is Job commended but for the completeness of this submission, with its deep humility and hearty penitence? It would be difficult to find any answer to this, except what has arisen from the theory, very ancient, indeed, and supported by the highest authorities, that the design of the Book, and especially of the theophany at its close, is the decision of a debate, or to determine which party had the better of this long argument about the cause of Job’s sufferings. As the traditional view we are reluctant to call it in question, and yet it may be very defective, if not in itself, yet by rejecting or ignoring another which is important as collateral, and, in certain aspects, may be regarded as presenting the predominant lesson. Job is approved not for what he said, or chiefly for what he said, in Job 3 or 16, or even in chapters 28 and 31, but for the few words spoken, Job 40:4, Job 42:2-6. This is in accordance with the opinion of Abenezra, the most judicious of the Jewish commentators, who restricts the words of God, Job 42:7 : “Ye have not spoken to me the thing that is right, as my servant Job hath done,” solely to the confession Job had made (Job 40:4, Job 42:2-6), and they had not. Grounds Of Job’s Commendation Origin and Progress of the Dispute In order to determine how far such a view may be defended, let us briefly review the general course of the narrative, and of the argument, so far as it can be called by that name. In the first stages of Job’s grievous affliction, he seems to have borne it perfectly. Philosophical stoicism must confess itself immeasurably transcended by such a declaration as is ascribed to Job 1:21 : “The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken, blessed be the name of the Lord.” What is there in Seneca or Epictetus to compare with this conception of “the old Dichter,” as the Rationalists call him? Again, that declaration afterwards made to his tempting wife: “Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” No language could more clearly and strongly express that idea of unconditional submission on which we have insisted,—that unreserved surrender that asks no questions as to the cause or the issue, makes no demand of compensation, hints at no injustice, seeks for no other reason of its being right than that God hath done it, and that, therefore, it must be right. “In all this,” it says, “Job sinned not with his lips,” Job 2:10. The latter words in this place—though not occurring in the previous passage, Job 1:22, where it is said, absolutely, “Job sinned not,”—must have a significance. They may denote the beginning of a change, to a degree, perhaps, of which he was yet unconscious. Raschi regards it as a negative pregnant, implying that, though his words were right, there was the beginning of something wrong in his thoughts and feelings; אבל בלבו חטא, “but he sinned in his heart.” Below the lips, ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ, in that deep unconscious place lying beneath the thoughts, and out of which, as our Saviour says, thoughts ascend (ἀναβαίνουσι), there had been some working of that hidden force which afterwards breaks out so irrepressibly. Another supposition may be indulged, that there had come upon him, or doubtless had greatly increased, that severe bodily anguish which, in its protracted continuance, is so unendurable. Christian martyrs have borne it with divine aid, such as we may suppose Job here not to have had, and because of the briefness of the pain, soon destroying itself, or leading to insensibility. Without this, or when there is no remission or alleviation, it may be safely said that such anguish continuing on, and beyond a certain degree, cannot be endured. The man cannot refrain from fiercely crying out, and it matters but little what the language of his cry may be, since it is only, in any sense, a physical expression of this unendurable agony. “He knoweth our frame.” God doth not blame Job for this; neither should his friends have blamed him. But this is what they did, and it was the beginning of that wrong direction taken in their subsequent discoursings, and growing more and more devious and confused at every step. They could not put themselves in Job’s position. They were astonished at his wild outcries, leading them to imagine something terrible in his state of which they had never thought before. It was this that first led to their chiding tone. They regarded it, not as the involuntary language of extreme suffering, having little of any more accountability attached to it than the mere physical manifestations of tears and groans, but as the evidence of rebellion in the spirit, or of some unknown actual guilt. They had witnessed this during the days of their astonished silence, until they can refrain no longer. His violent language seemed to them like an outburst of profanity; they undoubtedly knew of his fair reputation in the days of his prosperity, corresponding to the character which God Himself gives of His servant. “They had heard of all this evil that had come upon him.” Immediately each starts “from his place;” they make an appointment (וַיִּוָּעֲדוּ) “to go and mourn with him, and to comfort him.” At the sight of their friend, so changed by suffering that “they knew him not, they wept aloud, and rent their garments, and threw dust upon their heads.” In all this there is the deepest sympathy, but no unfavorable judgment. No Polemical Interest—The Rationalists’ Fanciful Vergeltungslehre Neither had they any polemical interest against him in maintaining the old Vergeltungslehre, “that phantom of their own imagination,” of which the Rationalists are so fond. There is no evidence that they had come, “each from his place,” to dispute with him about that. There is no such doctrine of retribution in the Mosaic Law, as differing from the later Christian, or from the universal experience of the world in either the earliest or the latest times. Always have men believed, and had reason to believe, both truths: that impious deeds are often strikingly punished, even in this world, and also that the righteous often suffer in a manner that seems inexplicable. The Rationalists describe their Vergeltungslehre as peculiar to the old Patriarchal and Mosaic times; but there is abundant evidence to the contrary in the narratives of Genesis. Good men are represented as suffering, without any impeachment of their characters, either on the part of God or man, or on the ground of any specific guilt assigned as the cause of it. The lives of Jacob, Joseph, and Moses prove this. So does the whole history of the Israelites in their sore bondage, for which there is no evidence that the immediate sufferers received or expected compensation, and who certainly were not worse, to say the least, than the nations around them, who had none of those severe trials which were sent upon God’s chosen people. So far as there was any basis for the idea in the Mosaic institutions, it will generally be found in connection with promises made to families and nations, rather than to individuals. This is the case with the Fifth commandment, which is so often cited in support of this imaginary Vergeltungslehre. Although seemingly addressed to individuals, yet it is in the national aspect that that motive is chiefly held out. It was the nation that was to reap the direct benefit. It was not simply long life, but length of days, continued generations, “in the land which the Lord thy God giveth to thee.” And so it is in regard to other blessings promised to the Israelites. Their political aspect is everywhere specially predominant, and, in this sense, they ever held most true. The people among whom filial reverence was maintained, as a foundation virtue, along with that deference which a new generation owed to the experience of the elders—such a people would have “length of days;” their institutions would derive a strength and a permanency from such a cause which no other could give. The words “in the land,” show this. Promises thus made to nations have no such reserve as must be supposed to be connected with them when made, really or apparently, to individuals whose cases are affected by such a multiplicity of outside moral and physical relations. They have no exceptions, expressed or implied, and history would show that, in such a civic sense, they always hold true. The nation has only an earthly being, and this difference was felt, even before the individual after-life was distinctly maintained. The individual virtue stood on a higher platform. It was connected with a higher order of ideas. Though the thought, as a conception, was not dogmatically formed, or consciously received, yet there was in it this mysterious “power of an endless life.” Hence, the question which Job’s friends mistakingly put in reference to the individual, might have been fairly asked in reference to a people, “When did a nation perish, being innocent?” When did a people cease to flourish that perseveringly obeyed God’s commands, and acknowledged Him to be its Lord? This fantastic Vergeltungslehre, as thus held by the Rationalists, is inconsistent moreover with the tone of the most important and most serious of the Psalms. Comp. Psalms 73, 17, etc. In Ecclesiastes it is most expressly repudiated. In the Proverbs, a purely ethical book, there seems to be more of it, but nothing more than any system of popular ethics, ancient or modern, must admit, namely, that virtue is, in the main, favorable to happiness or prosperity in this world, and that the practice of it, therefore, may well be recommended by the moralist on that ground. In the Proverbs themselves, however, there is evidence that the general truth has its exceptions, not arbitrary, but arising out of circumstances and reasons connected with a higher ground, demanding a higher rule transcending the ordinary experience. Job’s Violent Language the First Cause of Crimination—Opening Address of Eliphaz There is no evidence that Job’s friends held this secular Vergeltungslehre as a thing exceptionless. Their own speeches frequently admit the contrary idea. They would, perhaps, have advised Job to examine himself, try his ways, pray God, as the Psalmist does, “to show him if there might be some unknown evil thing in him,” that thus he might be “led in the way everlasting.” They might have urged him, as the calmer Elihu afterwards did, to regard afflictions, however sore, as sent in love for some mysterious good of discipline or purification. But it is not at all probable that they would have charged him with crimes, had they not been led to do so in consequence of the seeming profanity of his violent language, and his own apparent criminations of the divine justice. This first explains the doubt; and then the increasing harshness of their imputations is the natural consequence of the controversial spirit engendered, becoming the more personal, paradoxical as it may seem, in proportion as it becomes more dogmatic and abstract. Yet still the opening language of Eliphaz is that of a true friend—a pious friend who wished to sooth the sufferer, and yet mildly rebuke his violently complaining spirit. Together with astonishment and compassion, it manifests a tender diffidence which is very finely expressed in Dr. Conant’s translation: “Should one venture a word to thee; wilt thou be offended? but who can forbear speaking?” It seems to come after a silence occasioned by a subsidence in the great anguish. There had been, too, a sort of cadence in Job’s language which lets us into the interior of the man, showing that his former state, though outwardly fair and prosperous, was not free from spiritual trouble: “I was not at ease, I was not tranquil, I was not at rest, yet trouble came” (Job 3:26). There was something strange about the case; yet the words of Eliphaz, that follow, are far from crimination, or even suspicion. It is the gentlest of reproofs, reminding him of what he himself had done to others in similar cases of suffering, and counselling him now to do the same for his own support and consolation: “Lo Thou hast admonished many: Thou hast strengthened the feeble hands; Thy words have confirmed the faltering.” Surely this testifies to a belief in Job’s previous reputation for benevolence and piety. Nothing could be farther from the spirit of the harsh charges that seem to be made by this same Eliphaz, Job 22:5-10. “Thou hast comforted many”—it is the mildest of rebukes, if it be a rebuke at all—“but now it comes to thee, and thou faintest; it toucheth thee, and thou art confounded. Is not thy religion thy confidence (so יראתך, should be rendered); thy hope, is it not the uprightness of thy ways?” Job’s character for integrity is remembered and admitted, with the intimation that he should now derive comfort from the thought. Keeping before us this most natural view of Eliphaz’s attempt to comfort, we have the key to what follows. It was not received as it should have been; and hence the beginning of that personal controversy which arose, in a great measure, from Job’s violent retorts. He begins it; although he has the better of them afterwards, when the polemical spirit, thus aroused, has driven them far from the sympathy they came to express. Had it not been for the effect produced upon our minds by this latter turn, or had this speech of Eliphaz stood alone, we should have carried with us a different feeling, resulting in a different style of interpretation. The words that follow would have appeared to us in another light: “Remember now”—consider your own experience, try and recall a case—“when has the innocent perished?” The perfectly innocent, some would say in order to soften the imputation, but the emphasis is on the word אבד. The use of it is consistent not only with the belief, but even the firm persuasion, of Job’s comparative guiltiness, and the hope of his speedy restoration after a temporary trial. אבד is an extreme word of perdition. Here, especially, as the spirit of the context, and its association with that other strong term נכחדו very clearly show, it denotes a final, irrecoverable doom. It is suggested by the idea intimated above, that Job should not forget his religion, his confidence in God, but should derive a pure comfort from the thought of “the uprightness of his ways.” God does not mean to destroy you; you shall not utterly sink under this trouble; all will come right at last. Such is the spirit of the appeal. Good men may suffer affliction, but where have you known the innocent to perish? “Therefore, hope thou in God; for thou shalt yet praise Him, who is the salvation of thy face (thine open salvation), and thy God.” There is nothing forced in such a view. There may have been a want of appreciation of Job’s extreme suffering, such as an outside comforter would find it difficult to conceive, but it seems the best thing that he could do, and the best advice he could offer him under the circumstances. It is confirmed by the repetition of the question in language still more emphatic, and intended to be still more assuring: “When were the righteous cut off (נכחדו80)—finally cut off? Cheer up, therefore, give not way to despair, God will not forsake thee.” It is not a questioning of Job’s righteousness, but an assuming of it, in fact, as the ground on which he should yet exercise hope in the divine restoring goodness. The remark, however, here as well as elsewhere, leads to an enlargement on the doom of the wicked man: but any application of this to Job would be inconsistent with the evident assumptions of the context. This doom of the wicked is not thy doom. He has no fear (no religion), no hope as thou hast. Severe as may be thy pains, thy case is very different from that of the men “who plough iniquity and reap mischief.” Thou shalt not perish as those “roaring lions” of evil. He who “breaks their teeth” shall bind up thy wounds. Therefore, hope on. Then follows that sublime account of the spiritual appearance, and the moral lesson it brings from the unearthly sphere, so different from the gabble which the modern naturalizing “Spiritualism” would have given us in its stead, as has been before remarked. It is still that grand theism, presented all alone, and in its ineffable purity, as intended to precede all other articles of faith—God’s personal being, and His immeasurable holiness: “Shall a man (אֱנוֹשׁ, weak mortal man) be just with God? Shall a man (נֶבֶד, the strongest and most confident man) be pure before his Maker?”81 He had indeed given Job credit for uprightness; he had clearly intimated that he might and ought to find comfort in the remembrance; but here comes the vision of the night, the solemn, sober, second thought,—that there is something far more holy than our best righteousness, high as that may seem when a man compares himself with other men, or any standard of human ethics. It is an intimation that even Job, with all his uprightness, and though fully corresponding to that charming account given of his moral character in the prologue, cannot yet so stand upon his righteousness as to cry out against suffering—even extreme suffering—as though it were a strange injustice. Far different, indeed, is his case from that of those “lions” of iniquity to whom Eliphaz alludes,—those utterly Godless transgressors to whom their utter perdition is but a “reaping of what they have sown;” but still he is not righteous, he is not pure before God. Increasing Severity—Cause of it—Mutual Recriminations—Note on the Atrocious Charges of Job 22 Such is a fair interpretation of this fourth chapter. As uttered in a similar spirit, must we regard much of the language of the fifth; although, probably from some signs of impatience in Job, it seems to increase in severity: “Call now; is there any one who will answer thee” whilst indulging in such extravagant appeals? Who of the Holy Ones can listen to thy imprecatory language? “It is the foolish (evil) man whom wrath slayeth; it is the simple man whom envy killeth.” The noun, קִנְאָה, could be better rendered jealousy. It furnishes the key to the train of thought, or the view Eliphaz took of Job’s state of mind, as complaining of God, because men manifestly wicked had lived and died more free from pain than himself. Though the language be dark, and full of a passionate abruptness, such seems to be the meaning of what he had said, Job 3:14-17, about “kings and counsellors” who, after lives of uninterrupted prosperity, have lain down beneath their costly monuments, leaving their houses full of treasure. Why could he not have “so lain down,”82 at the end of an untroubled life, and “been at rest.” To correct this murmuring jealousy, Eliphaz insists upon what his own experience had taught him to the contrary: “I have myself seen the wicked taking root, but soon I cursed his habitation” (his seemingly undisturbed stability). I have seen what followed them, the ruin of their posterity, the restorations they were compelled to make. He is not here charging Job with personal crimes, but cautioning him—and surely there was need of it—against being led into complaints of God as one who lets the wicked live and prosper, and die, at last, without any “bands (dolores, Psalms 73:4) in their death.” This experience of Eliphaz was true. There is a Vergeltungslehre. God does not let the wicked ultimately prosper, even in this world. During their own lives, and in their posterity after them, this general law of the divine government receives its manifestation. Job’s mere groaning under his misery as something inexplicable, is very different from the feeling which suggests such comparisons, as though there were really no God ruling in the earth, and all things happened alike to all, or, what is worse, God actually favors unrighteousness. He himself, Job seems to say, with all his uprightness, was in fact more miserable, had a more grievous lot, than those wicked tyrants. It was this קִנְאָה, or envy, that was killing him. So it seemed to Eliphaz, and it is enough in interpreting that the idea furnishes the clue to the train of thought. God’s favoring the wicked, or suffering them to go with impunity, is very different from the idea that he may send suffering, explained or unexplained, upon the comparatively righteous—Eliphaz is here repelling the former idea. Some similar view may be taken of most of the speeches of the friends in controversy.83 They can be explained, or regarded as essentially modified, without supposing that, in the beginning, they had any thought of charging him with crime. That would have been wholly inconsistent with the friendly motive which brought them from their distant homes to mourn and weep with him. The story, it will thus be seen, is best interpreted by regarding it as an actual picture of actual life. But even artistic, or dramatic propriety would be grossly violated by such a preposterous fact, that they should, all of them, all at once, fall to making charges against him, not only so atrocious, but so motiveless and abrupt. The Dispute turned into the Defensive on the Part of the Friends—Does God favor the Wicked? In all the steps of the discussion, it will be discovered that it is not so much a disposition to impute actual crime to Job as to repel his seeming assaults upon their theoretical views of the divine justice. The question, whether afflictions may not come upon the righteous, is lost sight of in another which engages all their zeal: Does God favor the wicked? Does He let them prosper, and ultimately die in peace, as Job sometimes seems to assert? They strongly maintain the negative. This leads to the most vivid pictures of the doom that awaits an evil life. Job, not to be outdone, and not heeding his consistency,84 is drawn to vie with them in the assertion of his own experience to the same effect. Sometimes they all seem to say very much the same thing, and then it is worthy of note how some commentators strive to give a good aspect to Job’s language, and a bad look to theirs; all coming from the traditional assumption in regard to the judgment at the end of the Book. And their apparent recriminations may, in fact, be taken in two ways: Such is the doom of the wicked, the enormous evil-doers; but you, Job, are not one of them, although you are now behaving very wrongly; therefore, you may yet hope in God. Or it may be an actual imputation of crime. The first, as we have seen, may be the view taken of Eliphaz’s early address; the second, as the effect produced by the exasperation of debate. It is thus they get themselves entangled in a question truly collateral, yet seemingly connected with the other and more important issue: Are sufferings, in themselves, evidence of crime? Why they are sent upon good men, or why they are permitted even, may remain a mystery; and that mystery, we think, is not solved or attempted to be solved in this Book of Job. But surely it is something quite different from the other thought, that God suffers the wicked to go with impunity, or makes no difference between them and His servants, even in this world. The Didactic Value of the Speeches as Inspired Scripture The idea that the chief design of the Book is the decision of a debate has had an effect, more or less, in perverting its exposition. It all depends upon the view we take of the language used, Job 42:7, and the object of its most immediate reference. Before dwelling on that, however, there may come in here a remark in respect to the value of the various speeches in their didactic use. It is true that, in a dramatic work, we look to the great lesson which it teaches as a whole; and in consistency with this, much of what is said may be regarded merely in its dramatic propriety, and not in its absolute didactic truth as uttered, more or less, by all the speakers. It may be a question, however, whether we can apply this strictly to a composition we deem inspired, or divinely given, even though there may be grounds for calling it dramatic. God may instruct us by this style of writing, as well as by other kinds to which we give the names, historical, poetical, parabolic, ethical, or even, mythical, if the evidences of such, or such a kind of diction appear on the very face of it. Thus, Job may be said to contain internal evidence of a dramatic intent. It is not a mere collection of precepts, or lofty sayings, but a great spiritual action, a true praxis or drama, the instructiveness of which does not absolutely depend upon the precise truth, or exact moral value of every utterance that composes it. This is easily understood, and not to be dwelt upon. And yet the thought is not irrational, that such an inspired drama, or one that has a true divine authorship, and for a divine purpose, through whatever media it may have been composed, may be so written, so arranged, and so acted, as to combine both ideas, the dramatic and the preceptive. Even if we regard the speeches of Job’s three friends as wrong in their applications, they may, nevertheless, form a body of preceptive truth of the highest value, far beyond anything to be found in Seneca or Epictetus. In this view it may be said of each one of them, that they are Sacred “Scripture, profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for instruction in righteousness,” or that they are divine words “most pure,” as the Psalmist says, “like silver tried in an earthen vessel, and seven times purified.” Thus regarding them, the practical expositor, and the preacher, may study them with confidence, as golden sentences containing golden truth, and which, when “opened up,” as the old lovers of Scripture used to say, will furnish, each by themselves, most profitable themes of meditation. It would be difficult to point out a single utterance made by the three friends of Job that does not contain, in itself, such a golden thought, and worthy of a writing for which there is claimed a divine authorship. All ancient and modern books, Oriental or Occidental, will be searched in vain for a purer or loftier theism than that set forth in these speeches of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. The same may be said of Job’s language, when regarded as a calm utterance, or something more than a dramatic groan. His impassioned assertions of his integrity, his casting away of all false humility, his vehement expostulations with God, so almost terrifying us by their boldness: “Wilt Thou put in fear the driven leaf; wilt Thou pursue the withered chaff?”—all this may be regarded even with reverence as viewed from the stand-point of the sufferer. There is no cant about Job; no affected piety; no mere sentimentality; no cold and showy theorizing. All this seeming irreverence, nevertheless, is consistent with a manly piety, most anxious to understand its true relation to the Holy One. He seems, at times, upon the borders of profanity. He makes the boldest declarations; but they are all renounced afterwards, when a new aspect of the matter is presented to his mind, leading him to say אמאם, “I reject;” I throw them all away; I cannot bear them now. He argues no more; neither does he remain silent like the others; but falls upon his face, saying, only: “I repent in dust and ashes.” Here he said “the thing that was right,” wholly right; but even during the calmer periods given to him from suffering, he seems to rise immediately to a higher position. It is after such pauses that he brings in those impassioned soliloquies in which the disputants around him seem wholly lost sight of; as in that meditation on the unsearchable Wisdom, Job 28, or when he breaks out with that sublime appeal: “I know that my Redeemer liveth;” or when he says, “O that I knew where I might find Him;” or when he shows that he can surpass Zophar and Bildad in magnifying the divine glory, whilst he is behind none of them in sententious wisdom. The right “sayings about God” for which Job is commended If, however, there are to be found in the Book any utterances in themselves false or evil, they are to be looked for in those passages in which Job seems to pass almost entirely beyond the bounds of reverence, if regarded as speaking of God (as in Job 16), and not rather of the evil being, of whom, in some way, he seems conscious as a great and malignant antagonist. (See note, page 7.) But the exposition which proceeds upon the idea of the Book being the solving of a problem, or the decision of a debate, must find these false things “said about God,” or to God (אלי), in the utterances of the three friends. This might, perhaps, be maintained if there is intended, not their abstract truth, but their practical application to the sufferer; but then they could hardly be called, with consistency, “wrong things about God.” They would have been, rather, wrong things said about Job. Now it may be admitted, that, with all his errors and extravagances, there was a general rightness belonging to Job’s position. In spite of his expostulations and vehement upbraidings, even of Deity Himself, there was something in his impassioned sincerity, that called out the divine pity, the divine admiration, to speak anthropopathically, so as to give even his errors, in the divine sight, an interest beyond that of the cold, theoretical, unappreciative, casuistical wisdom of his antagonists. In reference to the whole action of the drama, instead of the mere dialectical merit, it might have been said, in the old patriarchal style, that “Job found favor, or grace, in His sight;” and in this way the traditional exposition may be accepted. We may take it as implied also in any form of the decision, and it may stand, if insisted on, as the leading solution of the Book: “Job found grace in the sight of God.” With this, however, the question may still be raised, whether, in the declaration, Job 42:7, לא דברתם אלי נכונה, “Ye have not spoken,” &c., there was not intended a more special saying, a particular and noted declaration standing by itself, as outside of the long discussion—not something which Job had said better than they, but something which he had said, and they did not say at all,—not something said about God, but directly to Him, and according to the almost exceptionless usage of that most frequent preposition, אל. Meaning of אֵלַי, Job 42:7 This is, in the first place, an almost purely philological question. The particle is one of the most common in Hebrew, and we might also add, one of the most uniform in its meaning and application. Let us, therefore, examine whether אֵלַי, in this place, has been rightly translated by the makers of the English and other versions. If not, it might be asked, why have so many commentators taken the wrong direction? The answer may be found in the influence of the view, so early entertained, that the Book was intended as the solution of a problem, and the decision of a debate. The supposed dramatic character and construction aided this idea. The tendency thus given would at once affect this passage, and the same feeling would perpetuate the peculiar interpretation it had originated. Instead of taking as a key the clear and usual sense of the preposition, they made it subservient to a hypothesis derived from other sources. This inverse method appears very plainly in one of the notes of Tympius (285) to Noldius’ Concordance of the Hebrew Particles: “Luth., Anglic., Trem., Piscat., Belgic., Schmid, Glass, Geier, de me. Nam amici Jobi, non ad Deum loquuti sunt, sed de Deo.” Here it is taken for granted that there is a decision of something said concerning God, and the preposition is rendered accordingly. Tympius, with the LXX., Syriac and Vulgate, would render it before me, but it is from the same idea of a judicial debate, only carried still farther in that direction; “for the friends,” he says, “non sinistre loquuti sunt de Deo tantum, sed et de Jobo, de cruce fidelium, de impiorum in hac vita prosperitate,” &c. Some commentators, when they come to this place, simply say אל for על, or אלי for עלי and that is all the notice they take of it; or they content themselves with rendering it about, concerning, in respect to, von mir, in Beziehung auf mich (see Dillmann, Delitzsch, Rosenmüller, et al.), without giving any reasons. But אל for על is as rare in the Hebrew as ad for de in Latin, or the English to in the same sense. We say, indeed, speak to a question, or to a point in debate, but this is a technical sense; it is figurative, moreover, denoting direction, or keeping the mind intent upon a thing, and never used with a person or a personal pronoun. How infrequent in Hebrew is this supposed use of אל for על, may be seen from the few cases85 given by Noldius, and of out many hundreds adhering to the common usage. Commentators find it difficult to determine for what sayings, in the general argument, Job is commended. The word נְכוֹנָה, Job 42:7 Another argument for the view here taken is derived from the disagreements among commentators in respect to the things said for which Job is commended and the friends are condemned. According to Ewald and Schlottmann, נְכוֹנָה denotes subjective truth, uprightness, integrity. Zöckler takes the other view: It was Job’s correct knowledge, and truthful assertion of his own general innocence, in which he was right, and they were wrong, because they failed to acknowledge it, or were silent about it. So Delitzsch says: “The correctness in Job’s speeches consists in his holding fast the consciousness of his innocence without suffering himself to be persuaded of the opposite.” This would make it almost contrary, in spirit at least, to the language of his confession, when he says אמאם: “I reject (throw away, renounce, recant), and repent in dust and ashes;” or in the other place, Job 41:4 : “I lay my hand upon my mouth; once have I spoken—twice—I will say no more.” Raschi takes this “once—twice” as referring specially to Job’s two hard sayings,86 Job 9:22; the first: “He consumes the righteous with the wicked,” the second: “When the scourge destroys suddenly, He mocks at the distress of the innocent.” It is as though Job meant to specify these, because they were the only ones he could remember. In his Rabbinic particularity, Raschi overlooks the Hebraism: “Once—twice,” repeatedly, over and over again, “have I uttered what I understood not, things too hard for me, which I knew not.” See, too, how Dillmann strives to make out a case for Job against the friends, and labors with his distinction between the subjective and the objective truth; as though the declaration itself of the Almighty needed defending and clearing up as much as Job’s integrity. In some senses, he would maintain, both were right and both were wrong. Not every word he uttered in itself was true, nor were their’s all wrong; but only on the whole, or on the question of Job’s innocence, was the balance of truth in his favor. Truly this is a very unsatisfactory view of the great matter which God decides, as though it were a mere question as to the weight of argument in a debate about Job’s absolute or comparative innocence; it being a fact, too, of which Job had knowledge, whilst they could only judge from outer circumstances. A man should maintain his integrity, if he is not guilty of particular crimes laid to his charge; that is true; but is there no higher lesson taught in this Book? Again, this mere summing up of a balance of right, with so much difficulty about it as to occasion such a diversity of comment, is inconsistent with the clearness and peculiar nature of that word, נְכוֹנָה. It is not used of personal moral character, either subjectively or objectively, like צדיק ,ישר, etc. Such a view of the word would seem to confine it to things said about Job, instead of something said about God and addressed directly to Him. The radical idea of the word is firmness, that which shall stand; hence completeness, security, perfection. When used of an outward object it expresses its best and most finished state, as in the infinitive form, Proverbs 4:18, נְכוֹן הַיֹּום, the perfection of the day, σταθερὸν ἦμαρ, when the sun has reached its height, and seems to stand—“clearer and clearer unto the perfect day.” As a saying, it is here the one most perfect saying that could be said—a saying expressing all. The Real Utterance for which Job is Commended We must search among Job’s sayings for something corresponding to the high and distinguishing commendation expressed by this word נְכוֹנָה,—something that stands the test, clear, decided, full. When found there will be no mistaking it. It will have a superlative, a finished, and not a mere comparative excellence. Other things said may have been more or less correct, but this is right, exactly right, the very thing,—something which, if it had not been said, would have left all else dark, undecided, insecure. Such was the saying, Job 40:4; Job 42:1-6, and for this we may believe that Job was specially commended. It was also said directly to God, and this perfectly suits the preposition אל, Job 42:7, without any necessity of giving it a sense which, to say the least, is very unusual, and only to be resorted to when the context allows no other. This is certainly not the case here. In giving to אֵלַי the same sense which אל has immediately above, in the words אֶל־אִיּוֹב, there is suggested a reference to Job’s confession; and we venture to say, that, had it been so rendered, in the early versions, there would hardly have been a thought of any other interpretation. Commentators, generally, as Aben Ezra has done, would have restricted it to that memorable saying unto God, and so have avoided the never-to-be-settled disputes as to the particular respects in which Job had the better of the argument against his three friends. There is also something in the appointment of Job as the sacrificing and interceding priest for the others that is in beautiful harmony with the view here taken of the difference between him and them. They had not fallen upon their faces, and laid their hands upon their mouths; they had not confessed, and “repented in dust and ashes.” This Job had done. He humbled himself, and therefore did God highly exalt him to be a priest and a mediator for the others. We will not say that this might not have been a proper distinction conferred upon him for his success in the argument by which he maintained his own righteousness; but the whole spirit of the Scriptures, old and new, seems more in harmony with the interpretation which regards the other as the prominent, if not the only view to be taken of this great decision. It need only be further said, in this place, that the LXX. have rendered אֵלַי, ἐνώπιόν μου, the Vulgate, coram me, in my presence–before me. To the same purport the Syriac קדמי. These are better than the modern versions, since they leave open the question of reference. They are in better harmony, too, with the usual sense of the preposition than the renderings of, or concerning, in Beziehung auf mich, etc.; but even these translations have been influenced by the idea of a debate held in the presence of a judge, or umpire, who is to decide on the merits of the argument. It is a notion quite plausible, closely connected with the dramatic conception, but receiving no countenance either in the abrupt address of Jehovah, or in anything previously said by the several speakers. The Book Of Job As A Work Of Art Errors of Interpretation arising from so regarding it The tendency to this idea of a problem to be solved, or of a debate to be decided, appears especially in those commentators who have most to say about the Book of Job as a work of art, lauding it greatly in this way, as though to make up for what sometimes seems lacking in a true appreciation of its divine merit. It has given rise to supposed plans and divisions as variant as they are artificial. The great outlines of the Book are marked upon its very face; but when the attempt is made to discover, under this main scheme, a more artistic development, the result is very unsatisfactory. Besides the prologue and epilogue, which are evident enough, the main body of the work has been arranged under certain divisions, or stages in the dramatic action, all regarded as having been regularly planned in the mind of the artist. These are described by technical names invented for the purpose. There is the δέσις and the λύσις,—the envelopment and the development, the tying up and the loosing. The subdivisions are arranged most artificially, though we can hardly call them artistic, the great excellence of which is the absence or concealment of all studied artificialness. For example, some give as 1st. The Anknüpfung, or Introductory Statement, of which nothing need be said; 2d. The Movement of the Debate, or the Commencing Development, iv. xiv. ; 3d. The Second Movement, or the Advancing Development, xv., xxi.; 4th. The Third Movement of the Debate, or the Most Advanced Development, xxii., xxvi.; 5th. The Transition from the Development (or rather the maximum Envelopment), to the Solution, or from the δέσις to the commencing λύσις, Job’s Vindication, xxvii., xxxi.; 6th. The Consummation, or the Durchbruch, the breaking through, the transition from the δέσις to the λύσις, the Speech of Elihu, xxxii., xxxvii.; 7th. The Solution in the Consciousness, xxxviii. 42 42; 8th. The Solution in outward Actuality, Job’s Restoration to Prosperity, xlii. 7–17. This is Zöckler’s. In the scheme of Delitzsch we have 1st. The Introduction; 2d. The Opening; 3d. The Entanglement; 4th. The Transition to the Unravelment; 5th. The Unravelment Divided into 6th. The Unravelment in the Consciousness; 7th. The Unravelment in outward Reality. There is no need of giving the Divisions of Umbreit, Ewald, etc. They are all marked by the same artificialness. They may be an assistance to the memory; but the reader feels that he is getting little or no help from them in regard to the governing idea of the Book, or the meaning of particular passages. The very fact of the differences existing between them detracts from their reliability. Thus regarded, they may be in the way of a true appreciation of the Book, whatever aid they may seem to give in its critical study; for almost any division furnishes some facility in that respect. If, however, the old author really had no such scheme mapped out in his own mind,—if, under the influence of some divine enthusiasm, he was simply giving vent, irregularly it may be, to thoughts of which his soul was full,—or was truthfully relating a story which he had heard, and which was firmly believed in his day,—then all reasonings from such artistic divisions would be “a darkening counsel by words without knowledge,” leading farther and farther from the actual fact, and from the divine thought. It all proceeds upon the fixed idea that the object of the Book is solely a debate, dramatically presented and dramatically concluded. There is a problem to be solved, a δέσις, or an entanglement first to be made, as intricate as possible, and then to be untied. For this purpose, God dramatically appears at the end, like a Deus ex machina, and closes the debate by deciding in favor of one of the parties, and against the others. The Reality of the Theophany—Compared with other Theophanies in the Bible It is a clear answer to the above dramatic view, that the divine speech itself decides nothing, though Job may be regarded as afterwards commended for the humbling and penitence-producing effect it had upon him. We may say this without irreverence. That most sublime address hardly takes notice of any of the points about which they had been wrangling, whether regarded as matters of fact, or of abstract truth. It had a higher purpose, a grander lesson to teach,—that lesson of unconditional submission, without the learning of which all solutions of problems, whether higher or lower, would be of no avail. God “makes His glory to pass before them,” as He did before Moses when hidden in the cleft of the rock, or before Elijah, in Horeb, when “he wrapped his face in his mantle at the presence of the Lord.” So Job fell on his face before God, whilst the others stood speechless in bewildered astonishment. To him the vision presented itself in its most interior aspect. He saw something in it beyond the eye of sense,—he heard something, as he himself seems to affirm, beyond “the hearing of the ear.” They stood ἐννεοὶ, like Paul’s companions on the journey to Damascus, ἀκούοντες μὲν θεωροῦντες δ̓ οὐ, hearing the outward sounds, distinguishing the words, it may be, in their lexical and logical sense, but having no spiritual perception. Perhaps they, too, had they fallen on their faces, might have had their inward eye opened, as Job’s was, and with the same spiritual effect. But he alone “made confession unto righteousness;” therefore, he was justified and they were condemned. We are not attaching too much importance to this divine appearance in making it the central idea as well as the central fact, of the Book. Why should it be turned into a poetical drama, any more than other similar manifestations recorded in the Scriptures? There is no other part of the Bible in which the theophany so belongs to the very essence of the revelation. It is here the very lesson taught. It is something given for its own sake, and not merely as a scenic means to something else. It is that to which all the parts of the wondrous narrative are preparatory, and in which all its words, and all its ideas, all its arguments, true or false, have their culminating significance. Though formally solving no problems, it is not a mere barren display. What more instructive than such an announcement of a personal divine presence challenging to itself the homage of all rational beings? And such is the very idea of revelation. It is not primarily to teach us doctrines, or to give us moral precepts, or to solve questions of ethical or even theological casuistry, but to bring nigh to us the divine power, and right, and vivid personality. All revelation, in short, is the revelation of the glory of God. To those who say that this seems a harsh and arbitrary teaching, the answer is, that it is most intimately connected with the loftiest human well-being. For men to see it is, in fact, their most satisfying knowledge, to confess and feel it is their highest blessedness. speech of elihu The chasm its rejection would leave between the last words of Job, chap. 29.–31., and the Divine Appearance Had the Book of Job ended with the speech of Elihu, the reader would have had good grounds for regarding this portion as containing the solution of the problem of which so much has been said. Suffering, as intended for purification and discipline, and therefore consistent with the goodness of God, and a general righteousness in the sufferer; this is the main idea it enforces, and in a way to bring out some of the best practical ethics to be found in this or any other book. No part of Job is, in this respect, better adapted to the moralist or the preacher. Chapter 33, especially, is a mine of precious instruction, clear and practical, full of consolations to good men amid all the trials of life, and of strength for the performance of its duties.87 He comes the nearest, too, to the speech of Jehovah, so far as any approach can be made to it, in the descriptions of the divine power as exhibited in the greater natural phenomena. This seems to be done, too, for a similar purpose; to show that God is hindered by no physical fatality; every thing that takes place is by the divine decree, or the divine permission. “He hath done it,” and therefore (not as a reason in itself, but as demanding the assent of the finite intelligence) is it holy, just and good. “Why dost thou strive with Him (ריבות, litigate, reason, argue); for He giveth no account (לא יַעֲנֶה, He maketh no answer) in respect to His matters” (Job 33:13). We have already dwelt on a few of the arguments for the genuineness of this portion of the Book, and especially on the difficulty that would be occasioned by having nothing between the noble vindication of Job 29-31 and the sudden mention of the88 whirlwind out of which Jehovah speaks. But there are also internal evidences in its favor. As before said, it is remarkably characteristic, and, in fact, the very traits that are urged against it should commend themselves to those who claim so much critical insight. It is true that Elihu hesitates and repeats, but for this there is a fair and natural explanation. He gives us the impression of one personally diffident in the presence of the older and the wiser, so esteemed, yet conscious of having important and timely truth, the utterance of which he cannot suppress (Job 32:18-20). He asks pardon often, as Eliphaz had done in the beginning, but with a good grace, manifesting reverence for age, and respect for suffering, but still more respect for what he deems true and right. The “higher criticism,” as Davidson says, “cannot maintain its gravity over these peculiarities, and discharges at them a great amount of bad language.” “His speeches,” it says, “are filled with gemachtes Pathos, and erfolglos Forcirtes,” with other charges of a similar kind. Now, nothing is less reliable, or more uncertain, than this kind of jaunty remark in respect to an ancient composition. It is a pretentiousness worse than any that can be imputed to Elihu, which would pretend to judge thus of words, and style, and the genuineness of certain kinds of phraseology, in a literature affording such scanty means of comparison. Besides, it is very easy to imagine some critical theory of the Rationalists in which these very peculiarities, or similar ones, would probably be cited as all-important. Striking Arabian circumlocutions, they might be called, such as marked the old seances, and were regarded as a literary excellence, or marked Kohelethisms, or any thing else that might be thought to have a critical interest, or a bearing upon the question of some supposed place or time of authorship. If Elihu is the last speaker, then the words, “who is this that darkens counsel,” &c., might be regarded as spoken of him incidentally, or as first disposing of what had just preceded, although the address, generally, is to Job. There might be assigned reasons for this, consistent with the favorable view we have taken of him. The confusion of speech, before alluded to as occasioned by the appalling approach of the storm, and which, he himself confesses, would furnish a ground for it. These opening words resemble very much his own language, as though echoed back to him from the thunder-cloud: “Is it told Him that I am speaking? (אֲדַבֵּר tense of description) we cannot order our speech in the presence of (מִפְּנֵי), or by reason of the darkness.” Or, again, it might be called a “darkening of counsel,” not in respect to its abstract truth, but when presented as a solution of the great problem, to the exclusion of other grounds in the proceedings of Him who, according to Elihu himself, “giveth no account of His ways.” the book not a solution of the problem of evil One might be led to think, at first view, that the great matter worthy of such a sublime Book as this, would be the solution of the problem of evil—how sin came into the world, and man is held accountable. It is the question of the ages, to the settling of which not even the Critical Philosophy makes an approach. There is, however, no allusion to it in the divine allocution, except as comprehended in that awful declaration of power and sovereignty, seeming to say, as the voice said to Moses: “I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious—forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin—visiting iniquities unto the third and fourth generation, and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my commandments.” Beyond this, no solution is offered, and Merx is right in saying, however irreverent it may seem, that if any clearing up of this dark problem had been the design of the Book, it must certainly be regarded as a failure;—that question stands just as it did before. The Divine Address, and the modern Natural Theology. No argument from Design It has been said that this speech of Jehovah contains an implied argument similar in substance to the one offered by oar modern Natural Theology. So Merx, Das Gedicht von Hiob, pa. Job 30 : “It is to exhibit the theology of nature, and that the rational aims visible therein furnish proof that God has like rational aims in all His government, moral as well as physical.” With this he connects what Job says about Wisdom,89 Job 28, etc., as a preparatory or transition step in the Lösung or Solution of the Problem. The argument may be thus stated: The divine speech is an exhibition of God’s wisdom in nature; therefore must we gard it as intended to show that He must be equally wise in His spiritual government. But that would not be a solution. It would be simply an assertion, on a grander scale, of what is assumed by all the speakers throughout the Book, all of whom seem to vie with each other in lauding the divine wisdom. Job especially dwells upon its greatness and unsearchableness (Job 28:20, &c.), leaving to man, as his peculiar and highest wisdom, the duty of reverencing it (ver. 28), acknowledging it, and “departing from evil.” Architectural excellence is, indeed, a pervading idea of this divine address; but that power, almighty power, is the predominant one, is shown not only in the general style of its thunder tones, but also in its effect on Job, whose first words in reply are: “I know that Thou canst do all things,” as before cited: Now I know it, whatever misgiving thought of some fatality I may have betrayed in former words now wholly renounced. It does not tell us in general that God acts solely from moral reasons; there is something in the language that gives the idea of artistic purposes regarded as having a value in themselves, aside from any moral or utilitarian considerations. He may make worlds, and lesser works, such as some of the great animals, for the glory and beauty of them, irrespective of any benefit[90] to man, or to other rational beings. The Divine Ways Transcending and Ineffable. Ephesians 3:10; John 9:3 There may be æsthetic reasons. And then, again, there may be others altogether ineffable, whose explanations man could not receive if God, or super-human beings, should offer them. What right have we to apply the measure of our Ethics, or our Psychology, or our Ontology, to Him “whose ways are above our ways, and whose thinking is above our thinking, even as the heavens are high above the earth,” that is, immeasurably and inconceivably beyond us? Sober Scripture sanctions such a representation. As before intimated, the designs of God, in His dealings with men, may be connected with effects to be produced in higher spheres (Ephesians 3:10, before cited); and so what He does, or permits to be done, to individuals may have relations, wise and just, extending far beyond them, whether in the present world or in any other. We are safe here in simply receiving the teaching of our Saviour (John 9:2) when “the disciples asked him: Rabbi, who sinned, this man himself, or his parents, that he was born blind?” It was for the sin of neither, is the answer, “but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.” Here is no throwing it upon nature, as the Rationalist would have done, but a positive assertion of a Divine purpose, and yet that that purpose had respect to something altogether separate from any punishment, discipline, or general well-being of the individual sufferer. “Who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say unto him who formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?” Such is the idea that is brought to us by this voice from the thunder-cloud. It is that of a personal omnipotence unchallengeable, doing all things wisely, all things well, yet giving no account (לא יענה, answering not) to any who demand the reason of its ways. It is the first great truth for man to learn—the predominant truth to take rank before all others—the fundamental truth, not for the infancy of the world merely, but most especially needed in this age of naturalism, of scientific boasting, of godless spiritualism. The Truthfulness Of The Narrative Is Job a truthful narrative, a legend with a dim nucleus of fact, or a pure fiction? In answer to the first of these questions, some would deem it sufficient to say, that the book is a poem on its very face. But this does not settle the matter. It may be so called unquestionably; and yet it may well be doubted whether, at the date of its authorship, even assigning it to the Solomonic period, there was that clear line of distinction between prose and poetry that afterwards existed. All high and animating thought has a tendency to measured language, to some kind of formal emphasis or repetition called parallelism, and which, in the Shemitic tongues, at least, is the beginning of rhythmical movement. It seems to be a demand of strong emotion, or of some strong interest in the thought expressed, whether devotional, prophetic, or sententious. There is reason, too, for thinking that the more animated colloquial style among the Hebrews and other Shemitic peoples had much of this parallelism or germinal poetry; as in the language of Abigail to David, 1 Samuel 25:28-29, or in the pleadings of the widow of Tekoah, 2 Samuel 14:13; 2 Samuel 14:15, and other places that might be cited, where just in proportion as the thought or feeling rises in earnestness, do the words also seem to rise into a species of parallelism, and take on more and more of a rhythmical aspect. Thus viewed, the style of the speeches in Job may be held to be the natural one for the expression of such thoughts, requiring neither study nor artifice. That was the way men talked when deeply earnest, or under the influence of strong emotion, or when the gravity of the ideas discussed seemed to demand something corresponding to it in the style of utterance, some measured cadence, be it of the simplest kind, that might mark them as grave and emphatic. The exact prose style, on the other hand, may have been, in fact, the more artificial, as carefully avoiding this kind of sententious, emotional utterance, so ill adapted to statistical narrative, though suiting well the thoughtful soliloquy, or some forms of animated colloquialism. There is, therefore, really nothing unnatural, nothing artificial—rather the reverse—in the fact that these speeches in Job have this easy rhythmical cadence, which the reader, if he have taste and feeling, must acknowledge to be in perfect harmony with the gravity of the subjects discussed. Far removed as we are from this Oriental style, we should have been a little surprised, nevertheless, had the lamentations of Job, and the responses of his friends, been carried on in the same kind of talk we have in the prologue and other narrative Scripture.[91] The Book of Job a Drama, and yet subjectively true The two ideas are perfectly consistent. It may have the dramatic form, the dramatic interest, the dramatic emotion, the dramatic teaching, and yet be substantially a truthful narrative. Making allowance for what are merely matters of language, such as the use of round and double numbers to express things that are beyond statistical estimate, we may believe in the general outward verity, whilst regarding this mode of stating the vastness of Job’s possessions, and the suddenness of his calamities, as itself evidence of a subjective truthfulness. It testifies to the deep impression left by the story as explicable only on some basis of actuality consistent with emotional hyperbole, but repelling the thought of artistic skill or frigid invention. It is this subjective truthfulness which is all that is required for a true faith in the divinity of the Holy Scriptures. It includes every thing else of value, and, once firmly held throughout, brings with it the idea of the outward supernatural as not easily separable from such a book, and such a history, lying, as it does, in the midst of such cotemporary human surroundings. We are compelled to take with it a corresponding measure of objective truth, regarded as separate from the necessarily emotional language, or as far as may be demanded for the moral and spiritual impression. In this way, what we have called subjective truthfulness may be very easily denned. It is the perfect honesty of the writer or writers whom God has chosen as the recorders of the great objective events which constitute the revelation He has made to the world. We are only to suppose that they heartily believed the truth of what they wrote, according to its evident intent as historical, dramatic, or allegorical, to be judged of according to the clear marks left upon its style. When we thus believe in the perfect honesty of the writers, we shall find ourselves, if truthful and candid, compelled to believe in a great deal more. Applying this to the Book of Job, we can thus hold that the writer, whoever he may have been, and in whatever age he may have lived, truly believed the substantial historical verity of what his pen has transmitted to us. This subjective truthfulness is unaffected by the steps or media through which such a belief may have come to him. It may have been in one of three ways: the writer may have been an eye-witness; or he may have received it from near cotemporary testimony, in which he fully trusts; or it may have reached him through a tradition, of whose substantial truthfulness he has no doubt. There has thus come to him the substance of the story: a rich and prosperous man suddenly reduced to the extreme of poverty, bereavement, and pain; his sore trial, the treatment of his friends, the prolonged discussions between them, the alleged divine interposition, and the sufferer’s restoration to a state of still greater prosperity. Along with this is the idea of a super-earthly nexus of events, originating the providential means by which the trial is brought about, and furnishing a reason for the strange suffering. This revelation of events belonging to the superhuman sphere, and the modes by which they may be supposed to become known to the human mind, whether as pictorial accommodations, or in any other way, present a question standing by itself. The ground of faith in them, is the same as that of other Scriptural narratives which carry us above the plane of human knowledge. It is enough for one who believes in the Bible as truly a divine book, that they are spiritually and dramatically consistent with the earthly events of the story and the spiritual design to which they furnish the key. On the round numbers we have already remarked. They should disturb no one who is familiar with the style of the Bible. They are simply methods of expressing vastness without regard to statistical accuracy. It may be said, indeed, that the use of units, tens, and hundreds, in such narratives, would have furnished good ground of suspicion, or actually detracted from our perfect trust in this subjective truthfulness of the writer which we rationally regard as beyond every other excellence. The same may be said in respect to the rapid connection of the events. It is a picture giving us the most vivid impression of suddenness, or one trouble coming whilst another is fresh in its effect and remembrance, breaking the victim, as Job says, “with breach upon breach.” Human experience confirms this as something not infrequent in the great trials of life, to whatever causation they may be referred. Such a story leads to hyperboles. They may almost be said to be its natural and therefore most truthful language. Their absence would betray an unemotional state out of harmony with the deep interest of the events believed.[92] They would characterize the style even of an animated eye-witness. Still more might they be expected in one who gives such an account its second transmission; and thus this language of emotion would become its fitting, or, as we might even call it, its truthful vehicle, getting a traditional form which is the strongest evidence of a once vivid actuality, easy to be distinguished from the wild myth, or the more fanciful legend. The same view may be taken of Job’s restoration. In itself, it is not an improbable event. The round numbers here are doubled, but this, too, is matter of language. It is a mode of expressing the fact that the restored prosperity greatly exceeded that of the former state; as in sober descriptive Greek we may have διπλάσιος used as only another term for πολυπλάσιος, or the multifold.[93] In judging of this truthfulness, it is enough if we can be satisfied of the absence of all invention, or of any thing that looks like literary artifice. There is abundant internal evidence, that the scenes and events recorded were real scenes and real events to the writer, whoever he may have been. He believed the story; he gives the discussions either as he heard them, or as they had been repeated, over and over, in many an ancient consessus. The very modes of transmission show the deep impression it had made, in all the East, as a most veritable as well as most marvellous event. It may be this, and yet as truly a drama, with its heroic action, whether outward or spiritual, and having as much right to the name[94] as any others, so-called, which are inventions, either in whole or in part. Or it may be regarded as purely poetic, in fact as well as in form, with the exception, perhaps, of a few human elements, whether legendary or historical, that may have aided in inspiring the idea of its composition. By those who adopt this view, as is done by some of our most pious as well as learned commentators, it is, of course, held that the Prologue, and the Theophany at the close, belong to the dramatic scenery. As maintained, however, by men like Hengstenberg, Dillmann, and Delitzsch, this theory of poetic invention does not come from any such aversion to the very idea of the supernatural as characterizes the whole Rationalist school. It is not with them the mere shunning of difficulties, or for the sake of making the Book more credible and acceptable as a part of Holy Writ. They think that they discover in the Book itself, in its apparent plan and style, evidence of such dramatic intent. And this does not diminish its value. There is almost every style of writing in the Bible, historical, devotional, ethical, allegorical, and even mythical. God may employ this dramatic mode of representing truth as well as any other. It may be received as we receive the parables of our Saviour. There would be demanded, however, a method of exegesis different from that which would be proper for such books as Genesis and Samuel. Another reason is that they regard this kind of didactic representation as belonging to what they call the Chokma period (the Wisdom or Philosophy period) of Hebrew literature, and, therefore, not to be judged by the same rules that would be applied to the older Scripture. This view of Job as being, in the main, a poetic invention, at least in its superhuman representations, may be regarded as the one now current in the Christian Church. The weight of critical argument may even seem to be in its favor; and yet it may not be amiss to consider what may be said for the older view, and whether there is such a difference, in this respect, between Job and other parts of the Bible. The Rationalist is repelled by the supernatural everywhere. He has a most irrational, and yet an easily-explained, dislike to the very idea, in whatever part of the Scriptures he may meet with it. Viewing it then as a question wholly by itself, it may well be asked, why the superhuman accounts in Job may not be received just as we receive them in the narrations of Exodus, or of Luke’s Gospel, or of the Acts of the Apostles. The question may refer to the supernatural simply when displayed upon earth as visible matter-of-fact, or to superhuman scenes narrated as transpiring in a superhuman sphere. In regard to the latter, it may be said, as we have before hinted, that the difficulties are by no means peculiar to the Book of Job. The question as to the mode of inspiration, or the way in which such superhuman or ante-historical facts become known to the writers, meets us in other parts of the Bible. The same mystery hangs over the first of Genesis. It suggests itself immediately in reading such accounts as that of 2 Chronicles 18:18-21, or the recitals of divine messages coming to the prophets. If, however, we are convinced, on general grounds, that the Bible is a divine book in the honest sense of the word, that is, given specially by God for our instruction in a way that other books are not, the minor difficulties vanish. If the Book of Job, or any other book, is truly inspired, and we receive it as such, then may it be trusted that God provides for all such communications, whether by trance vision, by symbolic imagery, or by filling some human mind with the general idea and the accompanying emotion, then leaving it to its own modes of conceiving, as controlled, more or less, by its measure of science, and clothed in its own necessarily imperfect human language. Thus may it be given to us in the Holy Canon as the representative of a superhuman fact, some knowledge of which is demanded as a fact ineffable, or incapable of communication in any other way. To deny the possibility of this is simply the bold irrationality of affirming that there can be no communication between the infinite and the finite mind, or of still more recklessly asserting that there are no superhuman scenes—that between man and God, if there be a God, there is an infinite blank, unoccupied by beings or events, and in which nothing can take place that may, in any way, affect the course of the human history either collective or individual. Some such general view in regard to modes of revealing may be rationally adopted by one who regards the book of Job as true and inspired—that is, in some way given by God as other books are not. If uninspired, if a mere human production, then this Book of Job has for us simply an archaic interest, like the early Arabian songs, or some Carmen Moallakat written in golden letters, and suspended in the temple at Mecca. If no higher view can be taken of it than this, then, surely, the vast amount of comment bestowed upon it, by Rationalists as well as by believers, has been far beyond its deserts. The immense labor might have been better devoted to other and more useful purposes. The Supernatural in Job not to be Rejected A rejection of the book on the ground of its supernatural and superhuman origin is simply in accordance with the procedure of the Rationalists everywhere. They even think it too much for its poetry, unless regarded as fiction throughout, or without any nucleus of truth, however dim and legendary. Thus, in defiance of such passages as Isaiah 6:1-4, Umbreit asserts that the Old Testament recognizes no theophanies after the times of Moses. In Job, therefore, it was a pure poetic fiction, hardly admissible unless the action and the scenery are dramatically assigned to the Patriarchal period. And so he asks with an expression of contempt for any one who might even imagine the contrary: “Wenn die ganze Sache Dichtung war, was war denn die Gotteserscheinung im Sturme? Wahrheit?” It is not, however, the degree of outward splendor in the theophany, or the magnitude of the sense marvel, as we may call it, that makes the difficulty for this class of interpreters. The objection is to any idea of God in the world as a manifest causation, whether it be in “the whisper,” or in “the thunder of his power” (Job 26:14). They are haunted by the thought of their dislike to the miraculous in any sense, or of any divinely-caused deviation from the course that things would otherwise take, whether in nature or in history. And yet they must reject the most undeniable facts, or admit marvels greater, in truth, than any that may be styled physical miracles—strange deviations from the general course of things in the moral and spiritual human, that, to a thoughtful contemplation, are more inexplicable than any analogous departures or irregularities, seemingly, in nature. Such an anomalous spiritual phenomenon is the very position of this old book of Job, or this old “poem,” lying, as it does, in the literature of the ancient heathen world. Let the serious yet intelligent reader fix his mind upon the cotemporary theologies and mythologies. A little to the south-west lies Egypt, so lauded now for its ancient culture, and its alleged longæval supremacy in what is called civilization, or the peculiar condition of “the higher man,”—Egypt, so well known then as the land of crocodile and serpent worship, of the grossest animal superstition, of the most debasing, God-forgetting worldliness. Not far to the east, or just beyond the Indus, are the monstrous forms of Nature worship, as exhibited in the strangest combinations of mystic, pantheistic, and polytheistic ideas. To the Mediterranean west, yet still within the Shemitic knowledge, are the myriad fancies of the Greek mythology, with its Bacchanalian festivals, its worship not only destitute of moral power, but the cherisher everywhere of impure ideas—æsthetic, it is true, famed for its ideas of the beautiful in art, yet most unclean. Almost in contact with it lies the Dagon idolatry, or fish worship, of the Philistines and the Phœnicians. To the north, on the Euphrates, the weird Chaldæan and Babylonian superstitions, as we learn from the dark phantoms of them that haunt us in reading the book of Daniel. Right below it, on the south, the Sabæan idolatry, or star worship, which had infected the primitive monotheism of the Shemitic Joktanites. There is no need of going farther in such a summary. Everywhere was there the rapid verifying of Paul’s words (Romans 1:21-28), setting forth the ways in which men destroy for themselves the pure knowledge of a personal God, Now think of this book of Job in the midst of such surroundings—the transparent purity of its religious ideas yielding in no respect to the loftiest of modern conceptions, the marvellously sublime representations it makes of the divine personality, omnipotence, infinity, unsearchableness, wisdom, grace and holiness—in a word, its distinguishing theism jealous even of the admiration of the heavenly bodies, the “sun in its splendor, the moon walking in brightness,” lest it might seem to detract from the reverence due to Him “who setteth his glory above the Heavens.” What restraining and conserving influence kept it so clean, so rational, so holy, in the very midst of such abounding impurities? If tendencies so universal and so constant may be called nature, then surely must there have been here the manifestation of a divine power. That One above the human sphere should sometimes speak to us, even though it might be in a voice from the cloud, is not a greater marvel for the reason, though it might be more astounding to the sense. For reason, too, has its marvels, and one of them—the greatest of them, perhaps—would be such an everlasting silence of the super-human worlds, or that to man—himself a supernatural as well as a rational being—no direct communication should ever come from a higher plane than that of nature. It is the moral sublime of the book of Job that makes the supernatural—if fair criticism should allow us to regard it as having such an element—all the more easy of belief. With such an accompaniment, it becomes all the more natural—if we may use the seeming paradox—or the more to be looked for in the whole course of things including every movement, moral and spiritual as well as physical. It seems fitting that there should be a theophany in such a drama; and this fittingness would be none the less if we regard the human elements as being, at the same time, an outward historical reality. And so we might say of the supernatural everywhere in the Bible, so different from the wild, grotesque, unmeaning, or monstrous supernatural that meets us in all those “other ancient mythologies” with which the Rationalist is so fond of classing the Hebrew Scriptures. In these other books, these “other mythologies,” there is nothing to give significance to the miraculous, whereas throughout our Holy Book, from the opening creative scenes to the apocalyptic closing, it is the great moral and spiritual, the great theological ideas, that make the supernatural events narrated seem its fitting and most reasonable accompaniment. It would be strange, on the other hand, that, in connection with such grand unearthly teaching, the appearance of a super-earthly power, the intervention of a super-earthly mind or voice, should be wholly lacking. It is thus that we may hold in respect to this Book of Job. Is there internal evidence, as some of the best critics maintain, for regarding it as a divine poem, and the opening and closing events as the appropriate dramatic scenery? Such a view is entirely consistent with a belief in its inspiration, and of its being designed to occupy a high place in the Divine Canon. Aside from such a theory, however, and such alleged internal evidence, or regarded simply in themselves, the supernatural events that appear to be set forth in this book may be received just as we receive similar narrations in other parts of the Bible. What is there in the voice from the storm cloud, or even in the prolonged utterances that follow it, more incredible than the voice from Sinai with its specific law-givings, the voice to Elijah in Horeb, the voices that, in some way, came to the Prophets, the voice from the burning bush, the voice that spake to Paul from the midday sky? Above all, what is there in it more strange or faith-surpassing than what is told us in respect to our Saviour’s baptism, when the Heavens opened, and the Spirit descended like a dove, and a voice from the firmament was heard saying: “This is my Beloved Son in whom I am well pleased?” In all these cases the exceeding greatness of the moral sublime throws in the back-ground the physical strangeness. There is a harmony in it which not only favors, but demands assent. Granting the human elements of the story, just as they are narrated, in all their human and natural grandeur, the supernatural, whether voice or appearance, seems but its fitting complement. It is true, that to those who are eye-witnesses of the event, the miracle is the attestation of the doctrine; but for minds that read or contemplate it, the converse also holds: it is the glory of the truth that makes the miracle easy of belief. Footnotes: [1]Job 38:7. [2]Lectures on H. P., Stowe’s ed., p. 28. [3]History of the Jewish Church, II. 164, Am. ed. [4]This disparaging remark about creeds is too sweeping and inapplicable to the oldest and best, the Apostles’ and Nicene creeds, which sound like liturgical poems through all ages of Christendom, together with the Te Deum and Gloria in Excelsis of the same age. [5]Isaac Taylor says (l. c. p. 68): “Biblical utterances of the first truths in theology possess the grandeur of the loftiest poetry, as well as a rhythmical or artificial structure.” [6]“Quid unquam Cicero dixit grandiloquentius?” The heathen rhetorician, Longinus, placed Paul among the greatest orators. [7]“Not less in relation to the most highly-cultured minds than to the most rude—not less to minds disciplined in abstract thought, than to such as are unused to generalization of any kind—the Hebrew Scriptures, in the metaphoric style, and their poetic diction, are the fittest medium for conveying, what is their purpose to convey, concerning the Divine Nature, and concerning the spiritual life, and concerning the correspondence of man—the finite, with God—the Infinite.” This idea is well carried out in the work of Isaac Taylor, see p. 50. [8]The higher order of secular poetry furnishes an analogy. Shakespeare was not aware of the deep and far-reaching meaning of his own productions. Goethe said that the deepest element in poetry is “the unconscious” (das Unbewusste), and that his master-piece, the tragedy of Faust, proceeded from the dark and hidden depths of his being. [9]Comp. Ewald’s admirable portrait of David as a poet, in the first volume of Die Dichter des A. B., p. 25. Prof. Perowne in his Commentary on the Psalms, vol. I., pp. 8, 9 third ed. (1873), gives this truthful description of him: “As David’s life shines in his poetry, so also does his character. That character was no common one. It was strong with all the strength of man, tender with all the tenderness of woman. Naturally brave, his courage was heightened and confirmed by that faith in God which never, in the worst extremity, forsook him. Naturally warm-hearted, his affections struck their roots deep into the innermost centre of his being. In his love for his parents, for whom he provided in his own extreme peril—in his love for his wife Michal—for his friend Jonathan, whom he loved as his own soul—for his darling Absalom, whose death almost broke his heart—even for the infant whose loss he dreaded—we see the same man, the same depth and truth, the same tenderness of personal affection. On the other hand, when stung by a sense of wrong or injustice, his sense of which was peculiarly keen, he could flash out into strong words and strong deeds. He could hate with the same fervor that he loved. Evil men and evil things, all that was at war with goodness and with God—for these he found no abhorrence too deep, scarcely any imprecations too strong. Yet he was, withal, placable and ready to forgive. He could exercise a prudent self-control, if he was occasionally impetuous. His true courtesy, his chivalrous generosity to his foes, his rare delicacy, his rare self-denial, are all traits which present themselves most forcibly as we read his history. He is the truest of heroes in the genuine elevation of his character, no less than in the extraordinary incidents of his life. Such a man cannot wear a mask in his writings. Depth, tenderness, fervor, mark all his poems.” [10]Winer, too, derives from the religious character of Hebrew poetry its “sublime flight and never-dying beauty.” Angus says: “The peculiar excellence of the Hebrew poetry is to be ascribed to the employment of it in the noblest service, that of religion. It presents the loftiest and most precious truths, expressed in the most appropriate language.” Ewald remarks that “Hebrew poetry is the interpreter of the sublimest religious ideas for all times, and herein lies its most important and imperishable value.” [11]Stanley: Hist. of the Jewish Church, II. 167. [12]So Perowne (The Book of Psalms, Vol. I., p. 1, third ed.): “The poetry of the Hebrews is mainly of two kinds, lyrical and didactic. They have no epic, and no drama. Dramatic elements are to be found in many of their odes, and the Book of Job and the Song of Songs have sometimes been called Divine dramas; but dramatic poetry, in the proper sense of that term, was altogether unknown to the Israelites.” [13]Dichter des A. B. I., p. 17: “Die lyrische Dichtung oder das Lied ist überall die nächste Art von Dichtung, welche bei irgend einem Volke entsteht. Sie ist es ihrem Wesen nach: denn sie ist die Tochter des Augenblicks, schnell emporkommender gewaltiger Empfindungen, tiefer Rührungen und feuriger Bewegungen des Gemüthes, von welchen der Dichter so ganz hingerissen ist, dass er in sich wie verloren nichts als sie so gewaltig wie sie in ihm leben, aussprechen will. Sie ist es ebenso der Zeit nach: das kurze Lied ist der beständigste, unverwüstlichste Theil von Poesie, der erste und letzte Erguss dichterischer Stimmung, wie eine unversiegbare Quelle, welche zu jeder Zeit sich wieder frisch ergiessen kann. Sie ist also auch bei allen Völkern nothwendig die älteste, die welche zuerst eine dichterische Gestaltung und Kunst gründet und allen übrigen Arten von Dichtung die Wege bahnt.” On p. 91 Ewald says: “Und so bleibt das Lied in seinem ganzen reinen und vollen Wesen wie der Anfang so das Ende aller Dichtung.” [14]Ewald, l. c., p. 1 g: “Der besondere Zweck, welchen der Dichter verfolgen mag, kann im Allgemeinen nur ein dreifacher sein: er will entweder mit seinen geflügelten Worten wie mit einer Lehre andre treffen, oder er will erzählend beschreiben, oder endlich er will das volle Leben selbst ebenso lebendig wiedergeben: und so werden Lehrdichtung, Sagendichtung (Epos) und Lebensdichtung (Drama) die drei Arten höherer Dichtung sein, welche sich überall wie von selbst ausbilden wollen. Erst wenn sie sich vollkommen aus gebildet haben, entstehen auch wohl neue Zwitterarten, indem das Lied als die Urart aller Dichtung seine eigenthümliche Weise mit einer derselben neu verschmilzt und diese stets nächste und allgegenwärtigste Urdichtung sich so in neuer Schöpfung mannichfach verjüngt.” [15]The perfect, I have slain (הָרַגְתִּי, Sept. ἀπέκτεινα, Vulg. occidi), is probably used in the spirit of arrogant boasting, to express the future with all the certainty of an accomplished fact. Chrysostom, Theodoret, Jerome, Jarchi and others set Lamech down as a murderer (of Cain), who here confesses his deed to ease his conscience; but Aben-Ezra, Calvin, Herder, Ewald, Delitzsch, take the verb as a threat: “I will slay any man who wounds me.” [16] The law of blood for blood is strongly expressed also in the tragic poetry of Greece, especially in the Eumenides of Æschylus, also the Chœphoræ, 398 (quoted by Prof. T. Lewis, Com. on Gen. in loc.): “There is a law that blood once poured on earth By murderous hands demands that other blood Be shed in retribution. From the slain Erynnys calls aloud for vengeance still, Till death in justice meet be paid for death.” [17]Herder says of this poem, of which he gives a free German translation: “Der Durchgang durchs Meer hat das älteste und klingendste Siegeslied hervorgebracht, das wir in dieser Sprache haben. Es ist Chorgesang: eine einzelne Stimme malte vielleicht die Thaten selbst, die der Chor auffing und gleichsam verhallte. Sein Bau ist einfach, voll Assmanzen und Reime, die ich in unsrer Sprache ohne Wortzwang nicht zu geben wüsste; denn die ebræische Sprache ist wegen ihres einförmigen Baues solcher klingenden Assonanzen voll Leichte, lange, aber wenige Worte verschweben in der Luft, und meistens endigt ein dunkler, einsylbiger Schall, der vielleicht den Bardit des Chors machte.” Dr. Lange thus happily characterizes this ode (Comm. on Ex.): “Wie der Durchgang durch das Rothe Meer als eine fundemmtale Thatsache des typischen Reiches Gottes seine Beziehung durch die ganze Heilige Schrift ausbreitet, wie er sich rückwärts auf die Sündfluth bezieht, weiter vorwärts auf die christliche Taufe, und schliesslich auf das Endgericht, so gehen auch die Reflexe von diesem Liede Moses durch die ganze Heilige Schrift. Rückwärts ist es vorbereitet durch die poetischen Laute der Genesis und durch den Segen Jakobs, vorwärts geht es durch kleine epische Laute über auf das Abschiedslied des Moses und seinen Segen 5 Mos. 32, 33. Zwei grossartige Seitenstücke, welche folgen, das Siegeslied der Debora und das Rettungslied des David 2 Samuel 22 (Psalms 18), leiten dann die Psalmen-poesie ein, in welcher vielfach der Grundton unsres Liedes wieder mit anklingt, Psalms 77, 78, 105, 106, 114. Noch einmal ist am Schlusse des N. T. von dem Liede Mosis die Rede; es tönt fort als das typische Triumphlied des Volkes Gottes bis in die andre Welt hinein, Offenb. 15, 3.” [18]The E. V.: ‘I will prepare Him an habitation’ (sanctuary), would anticipate the building of the tabernacle, but is not justified by the Hebrew. [19]The poet now, after giving thanks for the past, looks to the future and describes the certain consequences of this mighty deliverance, which struck terror into the hearts of all enemies of Israel, and must end in the conquest of Canaan, as promised by God. [20]An admirable German translation is given by Herder, and another by Prof. Cassel, in his Com. on Judges, translated by Prof. Steenstra. [21]Or: “The Glory (the Beauty) of Israel.” Ewald, Bunsen, Keil, take ישׂראל, as vocative, “O Israel;” the E. V. (“the beauty of Israel”), De Wette, Erdmann (Die Zierde Israels), and others, as genitive. צִבִי means splendor, glory (Isaiah 4:2; Isaiah 13:19; Isaiah 24:16, and is often used of the land of Israel, and of Mount Zion, which is called “the mountain of holy beauty,” חר צבי קדשׁ, Daniel 11:45); also a gazelle, from the beauty of its form (1 Kings 5:3; Isaiah 13:14). The gazelles were so much admired by the Hebrews and Arabs that they even swore by them (Song of Solomon 2:7; Song of Solomon 3:5). Herder (Israel’s Reh), and Ewald (Der Steinbock, Israel—to avoid the feminine die Gazelle) take it in the latter sense, and refer it to Jonathan alone. Ewald conjectures that Jonathan was familiarly known among the soldiers of Israel as the Gazelle on account of his beauty and swiftness. Jonathan was, of course, much nearer to the heart of the poet, but in this national song David had to identify him with Saul, so that both are included in the Glory of Israel. [22] שׂדי תּרוּמוֹת, Sept. ἀγροὶ ἀπαρχῶν, Vulg. neque sint agri primitiarum, fertile fields from which the first fruits are gathered. The E. V. renders with Jerome: “nor (let there be) fields of offerings.” On the different interpretations and conjectures see Erdmann in Lange’s Com. It is a poetical malediction or imprecation of such complete barrenness that not even enough may grow on that bloody field for an offering of first-fruits. [23]By blood and dust. A great indignity to a soldier. Homer says that the helmet of Patroclus was rolled under the horses’ feet, and soiled with blood and dust (Il. 16:794). The E. V., following the Vulgate (abjectus), translates נִגְעַל vilely cast away. [24]But with blood. The E. V., following again the Vulgate (quasi non esset), supplies “as though he had not been anointed,” i.e., as if he had not been a king (1 Samuel 10:1). So also Herder: “Königes Schild, als wär er nimmer mit Oel geheiligt.” But the more natural interpretation is: “the shield of Saul was not anointed with oil,” as was usual in preparation for battle, and after it had been polluted by blood or corrupted by rust (Isaiah 21:5). The unanointed shield here is an emblem of utter defeat and helplessness. [25]Lowth: “This passage is most exquisite composition. The women of Israel are most happily introduced, and the subject of the encomium is most admirably adapted to the female characters.” [26]The sweet, tender, devoted, enduring love with which women love. A picture of the ideal of friendship sanctified by the consecration of their hearts to Jehovah. The Vulgate inserts here the clause: Sicut mater unicum amat filium suum, ita ego te amabam, which has no foundation either in the Hebrew or the Septuagint. [27]The repetition of this lament, probably by the chorus, is entirely in keeping with the nature of an elegy, which likes to dwell upon the grief, and finds relief by its repeated utterance. [28] The כְּלֵי מִלְחָמָה are the heroes themselves, as the living weapons of war. So Ewald and Erdmann (die Rüstzeuge des Streits). Comp. Isaiah 13:5; Acts 9:15, where St. Paul is called “a chosen vessel” (σκεῦος). It is less lively and poetic to understand it literally of the material of war, as the Vulgate does (arma bellica), and Herder who renders: Ach, wie fielen die Helden und ihre Waffen des Krieges Liegen zerschlagen umher. [29]Hengstenberg, Hävernick, Keil, among the orthodox divines, Gesenius, Ewald, Thenius, Dillmann, among the liberal critics, deny the possibility of Maccabæan Psalms. Ewald says (Preface to third ed of his Com. on the Ps.) against Hitzig: “No hing can be more false and perverse than to suppose that there can be Maccabæan poems in the Psalter.” Delitzsch (Com. über den Psalter, new ed. 1867, p. 9) admits the possibility, but denies the existence of such late Psalms. [30]For particulars on the names and musical titles in the inscriptions of the Psalms, some of which are very obscure and variously interpreted, we must refer to the commentaries of Ewald, Hitzig, Delitzsch Mell (in Lange), and Perowne. [31]From ἐ ἐ λέγειν, to cry woe, woe! Comp. the German, Klaglied, Trauerlied, Todtenlied, Grablied. [32]Thirty-seven in the first Book, Psalms 3-41, 18 in the second, 1 in the third, 2 in the fourth, 15 in the fifth Book. The Septuagint ascribes to David 85 Psalms (including 99 and 104, which are probably his). The N. T. quotes as his also the anonymous Psalms 2, 95 (Acts 4:25-26; Hebrews 4:7), and Psalms 2 certainly has the impress of his style and age (as Ewald admits). But some of the Psalms ascribed to him, either in the Hebrew or Greek Bible, betray by their Chaldaisms a later age. Hengstenberg and Alexander mostly follow the Jewish tradition; Delitzsch (Commentar über die Psalmen, p. 7) thinks that at least fifty may be defended as Davidic; while Hupfeld, Ewald, and especially Hitzig, considerably reduce the number. Ewald regards Psalms 3, 4, 7, 8, 11, 15, 18, 19, 24, 29, 32, 101, as undoubtedly Davidic; Psalms 2, 23, 27, 62, 64, 110, 138, as coming very near to David. [33]This Psalm is called shir mismor and maschil, and is ascribed both to the sons of Korah and to Heman the Ezrahite, of the age of Solomon (1 Kings 5:11). The older commentators generally regard the former as the singers of the shir, the latter as the author of the maschil. Hupfeld thinks that the title combines two conflicting traditions. [34]What the Germans would call Kreuz- und Trost-Psalmen. [35]“In the scatterings and wanderings of families,” says Isaac Taylor (p. 375), “and in lonely journeyings, in deserts and cities, where no synagogue-service could be enjoyed, the metrical Scriptures—infixed as they were in the memory, by the very means of these artificial devices of versets and of alphabetic order, and of alliteration—became food to the soul. Thus was the religious constancy of the people and its brave endurance of injury and insult sustained and animated.” [36]Comp. on the wisdom of Solomon, Ewald’s Geschichte des Volkes Israel, Vol. III. pp. 374 sqq.; and Stanley’s Lectures on the History of the Jewish Church, Vol. II. pp. 252 sqq. Ewald exclaims with reference to the visit of the Queen of Sheba (p. 379): “O glückliche Zeit wo mächtige Fürsten mitten in ihren von heiliger Gottesruhe umfriedigten Ländern so zu einander wallfahrten, so in Weisheit und was noch mehr ist, im regen Suchen derselben wetteifern können!” [37]Cicero says: “Gravissimæ sunt ad beate vivendum breviter enunciatæ sententiæ.” [38]Stanley, Vol. II., p. 269. A different view is presented and elaborately defended in the commentary of Rev. John Miller, of Princeton (New York, 1872), who maintains that the Proverbs, being an inspired book, can have no secular, but must have throughout a spiritual, meaning. He charges King James’ version with making the book “hopelessly secular in many places” (p. 12). [39]Zweizeiler, Vierzeiler, Sechszeiler, Achtzeiler. Commentary on Proverbs, Leipz., 1873, pp. 8 sqq. [40]This comparison was made by Rabbi Jonathan on the assumption of the Solomonic authorship of the three works. [41]Ewald (p. 54) says of the parables of Christ: “Was hier aus der Menschenwelt erzählt wird, ist vollkommen wahr, d. i. den menschlichen Verhältnissen vollkommen entsprechend, sodass keiner der es hürt an seinem Dasein zeweifeln kann, und ist dennoch nur Bild, nur Lehre, und nicht anders gemeint. Aber mit der höchsten Wahrheit der Schilderung dieses menschlichen Lebens verbindet sich hier ihre höchste Einfalt, Lieblichkeit und Vollendung, um ihr den unwiderstehlichsten Zauber zu geben.” [42]Ewald treats prophecy as a part of didactic poetry. “Ein reiner Dichter,” he says (p. 51), “im ursprünglichsten Sinne des Wortes ist der Prophet nicht: was er ausspricht, soll von vorne an bestimmend, vorschreibend, belehrend auf Andere wirken. Aber sein Wort will von der Begeisterung Flügeln getragen von oben herab treffen, und muss so von vorn an erhaben in gleicher Höhe sich bis zum Ende halten.… So drängt sich denn dem Propheten die längst gegebene Dichterweise unwillkührlich auf, ähnlich hebt und senkt sich bei ihm der Strom der Rede, nur der Gesang fällt vor der ungewöhnlichen Höhe und dem Ernste seiner Worte leicht von selbst weg.” [43]Comp. the eloquent description of Isaiah by Ewald in his Die Propheten des Alten Bundes, Stuttg. 1840, vol. I., p. 166. [44]Ewald (Die Dichter des A. B., I. 72 sqq.) asserts very positively, but without proof, that dramas were enacted on the great festivals, and at the courts of David and Solomon. He calls the Canticles “the purest model of a comedy (Lustspiel)”; Job, “a genuine tragedy (Trauerspiel).” He admits, however, that in no case could God (who is one of the actors in Job) have been introduced on a Jewish stage, like the gods in the Greek dramas. Renan (Le Cantique des Cantiques) denies the existence of public theatres among the Hebrews, owing to the absence of a complicated mythology which stimulated the development of the drama among the Hindoos and Greeks, but maintains that the Song of Songs, being a dramatic poem, must have been represented in private families at marriage feasts. [45] That most pure and godly German hymnist Tersteegen, in his sweet hymn: “Ich bete an die Macht der Liebe,” traces all true love to Christ as the fountain-head, in these beautiful lines: Ehr’ sei dem hohen Jesusnamen, In dem der Liebe Quell entspringt, Von dem hier alle Bächlein kamen, Aus dem der Sel gen Schaar dort trinkt. [46]Bible Handbook, Lond. ed., p. 449. [47]Kingsbury, in the “Speaker’s Commentary” (vol. IV., p. 673). [48]W. A. Wright (in W. Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, III. 2553) says of the Book of Job: “Inasmuch as it represents an action and a progress, it is a drama as truly and really as any poem can be which develops the working of passion and the alternations of faith, hope, distrust, triumphant confidence, and black despair, in the struggle which it depicts the human mind as engaged in, while attempting to solve one of the most intricate problems it can be called upon to regard. It is a drama as life is a drama, the most powerful of all tragedies; but that it is a dramatic poem intended to be represented upon the stage, or capable of being so represented, may be confidently denied.” [49]The significance of the ruling number three reminds one of the trilogies in Dante’s Divina Comedia. [50]See a fine exposition of this passage in Dr. Green’s Argument of the Book of Job Unfolded, New York, 1874, pp. 181 sqq. [51] אֶמְאַם (from מאם to reject, to despise, to abhor), without the pronominal object, which is either the person of Job (Sept. ἐμαυτόν; Vulg. me; E. V., myself; Luther, mich), or his argument, his foolish wisdom (Aben Ezra: quicquid antea in te sum temere loquutus et imperite). Ewald translates indefinitely: Drum widerrufe ich und übe Reue; Similarly Zöckler: Darum widerrufe ich und thue Busse. [52]So in the highly poetic Psalms 8:8 we have Zoneh (sheep) for the prosaic צֹאך, alaphim(oxen) for בָקָר, sadai (field) for שָֹׁדֶה and bahamoth sadai (beasts of the field) instead of חַיַּת הָאָרֶע. [53]Delitzsch (Com. on the Psalms, Leipz., 1867, p. 17) says: “Die althebräische Poesie hat weder Reim noch Metrum, welche beide erst im 7 Jahr. n. Chr. von der jud. Poesie angeeignet wurden.” But afterwards he qualifies this remark and admits that the beginnings of rhyme and metre are found in the poetry of the O. T., so that there is an element of truth in the assertion of Philo, Josephus, Eusebius and Jerome, who find there the Greek and Roman metres. Ewald (l. c., p. 104) denies the existence of rhyme in Hebrew poetry; yet the occasional rhymes and alliterations in the song of Lamech, the song of Moses, the song of Deborah, etc., can hardly be merely accidental. [54]All metre is rhythm, but not all rhythm is metre, as Augustine says (De musica). [55]Lowth is the author of a more fully developed system of parallelism and its various forms. But the thing itself was known before under different names. Aben Ezra calls it duplicatio (כָפוּל), Kimchi: duplicatio sententiæ verbis variatis. See Delitzsch, 1. c. p. 18. Rabbi Azariah, and especially Schöttgen (Horæ Hebraicæ, Vol. I. 1249–1263), as quoted by Prof. Wright (Smith’s Dict. of the Bible, III. 2557), seem to have anticipated the main features of Lowth’s system. Parallellism is also found among other Shemitic nations, in Old Egyptian poetry, and among the Chinese. [56] General application. [57]The Keri here (לו for לא) of the Masoretic text must be very ancient, since it is sustained by the Syriac, the Targum, the Vulgate, and the Arabic of Saadias. It is in the closest grammatical harmony with the verb איחל; and no one can deny that the rendering produced is in perfect consistency with the spirit of the whole Book. [58] שׂהדי. A word from the same root in Arabic means attesting angel, or angels: Angeli, testes in ultimo judicio. See Koran Surat. xi. 21. Is not the שָׂהֵד or Attestor, on whom Job calls here, the same with the גּאֵר 19:25? [59]It would seem to denote that ghastly look, and that ghastly condition of extreme emaciation, when the skin will no more close over the protruding teeth. This sense may be got for מלט without going to the corresponding Arabic word. It is closely connected with the common Hebrew sense of escape or deliverance (one thing parting or parted from another). It is like the accusative with preposition after passive verbs denoting condition. I am parted, the skin of my teeth, or in the skin of my teeth—that is, the flesh that covers my teeth. It denotes the extreme of emaciation and suffering. [60] ישימו. “They are putting.” Who are they? It is one of those cases where the agent, real or supposed, is not named because of something fearful, perhaps, associated with it. “They”—invisible powers, it may be, either actually believed or used figuratively or proverbially to heighten the effect of the language. Grammarians call it the using of the active for the passive impersonal, but this does not explain the matter. As parallel passages, compare Job 7:3; Job 4:19; Job 18:18; Job 19:26; Psalms 49:15, and especially the Greek of Luke 12:20. It is generally used by way of deprecating something hostile. But it may also be from reverence. See Isaiah 60:11. [61]The same idiom referred to in the note above. They, the agent, too fearful or too revolting to be named, may refer to the worms reducing his skin to shreds, or to the strange hostile powers that were then destroying his body through disease, regarded as produced by evil agency. [62] It is the same style of musing query given in Plato, Gorgias, 493, A, by way of extract from a lost drama of Euripides: Τὶς δ’ οἶδεν, ἐι τὸ ζῆν μέν ἐστι κατθανεῖν, Τὸ κατθανεῖν δὲ ζῇν ? Who knows but life, the present life, be death, And death be living? Socrates explains it from the saying of the wise men of old, “that we are now dead and buried in the body.” Who shall say that the same, or a kindred thought, may not have come to an Idumean sage, as well as to the old σοφοί to whom Plato ascribes it? [63] Umbreit and other commentators of the same school will have it that the change here is that from life to death. The arguments against it are threefold. There is, first, the consistency of the context. Secondly, if חליפה stood here alone, without any thing to determine it one way or the other, it might be said that in other passages the transition denoted by the root is that of renewal, whenever connected with the idea of life, as in Psalms 90:3; Psalms 102:27, where it seems to denote a new garment for nature, a change of raiment in the sense of renewal. There is, thirdly, the direct use of יחליף, the Hiphil, for reviviscence, in the seventh verse, as applied to the comparison of the tree. Would the noun here, so obviously from it, so soon lose the same idea, and be taken in another directly opposite? and is there not the strongest critical reason for regarding the use of the noun in ver. 14 as suggested by the parallel thought, ver. 7: “Even as there is hope of a tree that it will germinate again (יחליף), so also will I wait until my springing forth, my חליפה, come.” “For Thou wilt call,” etc. [64] תכסף. Primary sense, palluit, the face growing pale, like silver, from strong desire. We have used Dr. Conant’s admirable translation, “yearns.” In Psalms 84:3 it is used, together with כלה, to denote the longing of the pious soul for God, and that makes more impressive here the converse idea of God’s yearning love for man. [65]The author is represented as showing the most marvellous skill in keeping out every allusion to things most deeply interwoven in the Israelitish life. All is foreign and antique. And yet Commentators who maintain this, find the grossest anachronisms in the Book, whenever they can serve the purpose of assigning to it some comparatively modern period. Thus, Merx, p. xli, finds in Job 15:15; Job 15:19, an allusion to the Assyrian invasion of 760, or to the fact that foreigners were in the land, and obscuring all the old ideas. Eliphaz is made to refer to the older people “to whom alone was given the land.” It is very much the same as if one professing to give a dramatic picture of the Pilgrim Fathers, and striving to keep every thing in harmony with that early time, should suddenly betray himself by an allusion to the late Rebellion. But with some, the greatest inconsistency is excusable, if it will favor the latest date that can be given to the Book. [66]See Surat. 23:85: “How is it that when we are dead, and have become dust and bones, that we live again? They are only fables of the ancients, 5:38. Away, then, with what we are threatened with! There is no other life. We live and we die, and then we live no more. They are but stories of the early times.” See, also, 26:137, 27:69, 70. [67] It was only, however, by the more pious and meditative, or those who were chosen as the mediums of the written revelation, that the power of this reserve was chiefly felt. That the vulgar Jewish mind had the same views of a ghost-world as prevailed among other nations of antiquity, and as now popularly prevail, is proved by the most unmistakable evidence. We need only refer to such passages as Leviticus 19:31; Leviticus 20:6; Leviticus 20:27; Deuteronomy 18:11; 2 Kings 21:16; Isaiah 8:19; Isaiah 29:4. They show a belief so strong and prevalent, in the continued existence of the dead, that there had arisen, in the very earliest times, a class of persons who professed to be mediums of communication between the two worlds. They are called ידענים ,אוֹבוֹת, Necromancers, or “Seekers to the dead,” דרשׁים אל מתים‏‏‏. Our modern Spiritualism is only a revived form of this impiety, so early condemned. Another example is furnished by the case of Saul and the Witch of Endor, 1 Samuel 28:3. Whether these were wholly or partly imposture, makes no difference in the argument. Such practices could only have been grounded on a very prevalent popular belief in a ghost-world. Here as elsewhere, the idea, when left to itself, became only the nourisher of a pestilent superstition; because the thought of God, as the conservative idea, became dissociated from it, just as in the modern doctrine, and the modern practice that so closely resembles it. Hence such a belief, instead of being encouraged, is most sharply condemned in the Scriptures. The great guilt consisted in meddling with what belonged solely to God, to be revealed or veiled according to the divine wisdom. The practice of such necromancy prevailed most under the most wicked kings, such as Manasseh; and its evil in the Divine sight is shown by the vehement denunciations of the Prophet: The farther the people departed from God, the more common became this “seeking to the dead.” Glimpses, however, of a better popular belief in some higher and purer spirit-world appear in the Book of Job itself. Whether the word רוח, in the Vision of Eliphaz, 4:15, denote a spirit, or a breath, the whole context intimates a communication supposed to come from another world. Calling it a dream makes no difference, since dreams show the course of human thinking and belief. The thing, however, most worthy of note in this view, is the nature of the communication made. How different, in this respect, from the modern spiritualism referred to! There is nothing to gratify curiosity—no talk about “spheres,” and “progress, or a “coming light,” but a most solemn moral announcement. It is for this alone that the separating curtain is for a moment withdrawn. No disclosure is made of states or scenes within. The regulating divine idea is all-controlling. That must first of all be learned in its ineffable holiness: “Shall man be more just than God? shall mortal man be more pure than his Maker?” Everything else is withheld, as though until this is firmly established in the soul, the doctrine of a spirit-life may be in itself, morally powerless, and even unfavorable to a true piety. [68] It may be said, too, that in this passage of Pindar there is fully developed the other idea, or the doom of the wicked. See line 120. Τοι δ· ἀπροσόρατον ὀκχέοντι πόνον. A woe on which no eye can gaze. [69] The resemblance to the Odyss., iv. 565, vi. 42, and especially to the latter passage, is very striking. A close comparison strongly favors the conclusion that the lines of the Veda, if the translation be correct, must have been, in some way, drawn from these of Homer; a supposition not extravagant, if we suppose them later than Alexander’s expedition, and the knowledge that may, perhaps, have come into India from that source. Wo Schimmer alle Räume füllt, ——ἀλλὰ μαλ’ αἴθρη πέπταται ἀνέφελος, λενκὴ δ· ἐπιδέδρομεν αἴγλη. [70]“More than doubtful.” What knowledge has he enabling him to make so nice an estimate? The reason given is that “Enoch is representative of the departed year gone to the Ewigkeit.” We may see by this what rapid progress Rationalism sometimes makes. What Ewald hazarded as a mere conjecture, founded on nothing stronger than the coincidence (very remarkable among so many stated numbers!) of Enoch’s age with the number of days in the year, Merx treats as a settled point, which none now would think of calling in question. Nothing, however, is more improbable. Those very “wise Egyptians,” as late as the time of Herodotus, had not yet determined the year by five days, still treating it, in some respects, as 360, and yet these critics would have it not only settled in the days of Enoch, but so well settled as to make a myth out of it. Then, again, it would be a mere sentimentalism, suiting well in modern times, but inconsistent with a great antiquity. [71]According to this view, it would be tentative and skeptical,—we mean skeptical in a good sense,—like some of the Socratic discourses, which are thus entitled, because they come to no conclusion, yet have served a good purpose in teaching us our ignorance, or by showing the great value of the truth sought, and stimulating to more earnest study to be rewarded by the disclosures of a more advanced revelation. [72]Some such thought of a superearthly drama appears in what the Apostle says, Ephesians 3:10 : “That now through the Church there might be made known to the Principalities and Powers in the Heavenly World (ἐν τοῖς ἐπουρανίοις), the manifold (πολυποίκιλος, immensely varied) wisdom of God.” See Olshausen on the text: “The Church (good men on earth, whether in their piety or their sufferings) is the theatre (seiner Wirksamkeit) through which this manifold wisdom and teaching are made known to the angels.” In support of the idea, Olshausen very properly cites 1 Peter 1:12 : εἰς ὰ ἐπιθυμοῦσιν ἄγγελοι παρακύψαι: “Which things the angels desire to look into” (to bend eagerly forward for that purpose) and Paul’s language, 1 Corinthians 4:9 : θέατρον ἐγενήθημεν τῷ κοσμῳ καὶ ὰγγέλοις. [73]It is not too much to say that even now, in this advanced age of theology, there is arising a new need of this idea. There is something in the naturalistic tendencies of our science, and our literature, which more and more demands a revival of the thought of a personal, holy, omnipotent, unchallengeable God, who “doeth all things according to His good pleasure,” whether through nature, or against nature, or above nature. The sharpening of this would give a new edge to every other religious dogma. The ideas of sin, holiness, accountability, would receive a new impress of clearness and power. The doctrine of a future life would get a moral significance, throwing in the back-ground those naturalistic and merely imaginative features which are now making it a matter of curious speculation, or of physical, rather than of ethical interest. Such a sudden sharpening of the divine idea would have a startling effect, like the actual witnessing of a miracle, in bringing so near the thought of God as to set it in a new and surprising light, resembling vision rather than theory, and calling forth something like the exclamation of Job, when “the hearing of the ear” had become an actual beholding. [74]As matter of outward fact, indeed, there is set forth in the close of the drama a full compensation. It forms, what some, who are fond of the more artistic criticism, call “the outer disentanglement,” or Die Lüsung in äusserer Wirklichkeit; but we are nowhere told that this entered into the idea of the poem. As such, it would be inconsistent with the thought so prominent in the prologue, or the possibility of a man’s serving God for nought. As a mere outward scene, however, it has a certain appropriateness, like the matter-of-fact close of a Greek drama, sometimes brought in as a satisfaction to the reader, to save him from pain, by making a harmony in the outward narrative. But in Job the great lesson is complete without it. We read it with pleasure, as something simply due to dramatic consistency, that when the spiritual drama is over, the hero, as the Rationalists, with some propriety, call him, may not be left in his state of suffering; but the great inward design is concluded by the submission of Job, which would have been utterly spoiled by the intimation of any expected recompense. The apparent design, too, of the prologue is satisfied without it. When Job submits, Satan is baffled, and God’s judgment is true. [75]It is worthy of note how the appeal is made alike to the great natural and the great supernatural, as though the distinction had not then been made; or the line drawn, as in our modern thinking; or as though to the Divine Mind such a distinction was of no account. Nature and law are clearly recognized in the Bible; but both departments, the natural and the supernatural, are regarded as equally illustrating the power and greatness of God as manifested in all. The same may be said of the appeal to the great animal creations, surpassing man in strength and magnitude. It is not to show design, or utilitarian ends, as in our modern natural theology, and hence to demonstrate the existence of a Deity. Job is not addressed as doubting that, or as needing any proof of God’s wisdom and goodness. Everything, on the other hand, bears upon this one idea of omnipotence. It is to show that God “can do all things”—a truth which Job confesses (42:2), in language intimating that he had not before fully realized it. [76] Literally, “hindered from Thee.” בצר has its Syriac sense of diminution, restraint, failure. LXX. ἀδυνατεῖ δέ σοι ούδέν. The Syriac has “nothing can be hidden from Thee,” and in this it resembles our common version. Dr. Conant’s is better: “And from Thee no purpose can be withheld;” but fails, we think, in giving the full thought, which is that of insufficiency, or want of power in the execution. [77] There is language in chapter 16 from which it would seem that Job had such beings in view,—a multitude of them, in fact, as well as the great enemy mentioned in the prologue. Such expressions as those in verses 9 and 10, of that chapter, can hardly be used of the three friends: “His anger rends me; he lies in wait for me (ישטמני, cognate with שׂטן, Satan); he gnashes on me with his teeth; mine enemy (צרי), sharpens his eyes upon me (glares at me); they gape upon me with their mouths” (כערו, like the yawning Orcus, Isaiah 5:14). We are shocked at the very thought of such words being applied to God, although most of the commentators have so taken them. The language that follows: “God delivers me up,” etc., though strong, is in a different style; simply presenting the idea of an unjust surrender into Satan’s hands. It might be said, too, that the absence of any expressed subject (simply implied, he, they, etc.) is evidence of something fearful in the thought, as in the cases mentioned, note, p. 7. The referring them to God, would be inconsistent, moreover, with the appeal to the Witness on high, ver. 20. The language of vers. 9 and 10 shows an imagination wildly excited, as though at the sight of fiends making hideous faces, scowling, and glaring at him. It would seem strange, too, that Satan should so figure in the prologue, and that afterwards no allusion whatever should be made to him. It would not be artistic, if that, as some say, is the chief character of the book. Is there not an implied reference to this great persecutor and murderer (ἀνθρωπόκτονος, John 8:44), in the appeal to the Avenger or Redeemer, 19:25? Raschi speaks very confidently in respect to the language, 16:9, as though it could not admit of a doubt: “Satan here is the enemy;” והשטן חוא הצר. [78] Merx, the latest commentator on Job, in the short notes he adds to his new text and translations, is very fond of putting the word dogmatic to the renderings, ancient or modern, which he rejects. He means by this to stigmatize them as made in a dogmatic interest, even though sometimes giving the only possible meaning which the Hebrew will admit. He ought to have seen how greatly his own version is affected by that precisely identical kind of interest, which we may call the dogmatic anti-dogmatic. He cannot understand this passage according to the text, and so he does not hesitate to give different punctuation, allowing him to render it: “Thou knowest that Thou canst do all things,” an answer which wholly mars the force of Job’s appeal. Although it may still be taken as his confession of the great truth, yet the putting it thus in the second person makes it not only a pointless assertion, but seems greatly to change the aspect and spirit of the passage. It would be as though he had said: I submit, I lay my hand upon my mouth, because any other course would be of no avail. Thou knowest, Thyself, that Thou art infinitely strong, and canst do as Thou pleasest; of what use, then, any remonstrance? God knoweth the difficulties and darkness of our minds as well as our bodily frames. We may, therefore, believe that a doubt in respect to His power would be less displeasing to Him than such a captious irreverence. There is a shadow of authority for Merx. The pointing is of the first person, but the closing yod is supplied by the Keri. It is the same in this respect as in Psalms 140:13, יָדַעְתִ for יָדַעְתִי, in full, and in עָשִׂיתִ for עָשִׂיתִי, Ezekiel 41:19. It may be also taken as an Aramaism, as it would doubtless have been called could it have been made to suit a rationalistic purpose. [79] The genuineness of the speech of Elihu, which has been much attacked, may be defended on three grounds that, aside from their moral weight, are entitled to attention from those who patronize the Book chiefly on its alleged artistic merits. These are— 1st. That, without it, the appearance and address of Jehovah must be taken as immediately following Job 31, in which case the words, “Who is this that darkeneth counsel,” etc., must refer directly to the clearest, most consistent, and most eloquent speech in the Book, namely, Job’s noble vindication of his fair life against the damnatory accusations of his friends. It is a most manly appeal, undeserving, we reverently think, of being thus characterized as vain and dark, at least in comparison with those of the others. Besides, the term, עצה, counsel, teaching, argument, cannot be applied to it as it can to the speech of Elihu, which is ostentatiously didactic. Job’s appeal, Job 31, is simply a vindicatory statement of fact, in opposition to unrighteous charges. If he is divinely commended for anything, except his last words of submission and repentance, it must be for this noble defence. 2d. The language, “Who is this, etc.” would be applicable to much in the general style and spirit of Elihu’s discourse. Although the divine answer, as a whole, is addressed to Job, yet nothing would seem more natural than such an incidental reference to the last speaker, who is seemingly interrupted in his eloquence by the sudden rebuke of the supernatural voice. It was a giving counsel, an assumption of wisdom, a claiming “to speak for God;” and although we think that those critics altogether overstrain the matter who charge Elihu with being merely a loquacious babbler, or a vain, pretentious disputant, yet, as an attempted vindication of the divine ways, it was a more fit subject for this comparative censure, than the honest and glowing words of Job in Job 31, to which it immediately, or without the least preparation, succeeds, if the part of Elihu is left out. The repetitions of this last speaker, on which some have so much insisted, are of little consequence. They may be blemishes, or rhetorical excellencies, according to the stand-point from which they are viewed. The specimens we have of the old Arabic Seance, or Consessus, show that such a repetitive style of sententious moralizing was held in literary repute. At all events, it is characteristic, and this they should regard as a dramatic merit in what they call a “work of art.” But, aside from this, there is something in the whole of Job 37, and especially in the closing verses, to which the language is very applicable, as referring to the last speaker, although the divine address is described, generally, by the historian, as made to Job, to whom, personally, it immediately turns. The words “darkening counsel,” etc., denote invalidity of argument, doubtless, but, along with this, they are descriptive of the apparent timidity, abruptness, and awe-struck confusion that seem to characterize the close of Elihu’s harrangue. It is the language of one gazing on some strange appearances. The emotion and the exclamations thence produced mingle with his didactic utterances, so that he says, ver. 19: “Tell us what we shall say, for we cannot order our speech, by reason of darkness.” And this suggests the— 3d Ground, namely, That the whole scene is a reality, and that this interlude of Elihu, and especially his abrupt exclamatory closing words, are a convincing evidence of it. It is either a painting from the life, or it is the most consummate art. There is the strongest internal evidence that, during this speech of Elihu, there is represented the approach of the storm-cloud, the rising tornado, interrupting and confusing his words, calling away his attention, and giving rise to broken remarks on the vivid phenomena that accompany it, until he is suddenly silenced by the awful voice. Some of the best commentators have thus regarded the language as referring to an actual coming storm. Delitzsch cites Bridel for the opinion that the thunder, mentioned 37:1, is not a mere matter of eloquent description, but something actually presented to the senses: “L’éclair brille, la tonnere gronde.” It is the language of an eye and ear witness, or if it is a mere work of art—it is so arranged and expressed as to convey that impression. So Rosenmüller, in the words of Bouillier: “Inter verba Elihu, dum hæc loqueretur, tonitru exauditum; ad cujus cæcum murmur, mox in fragorem horrendum et fulgur erupturum, circumstantes jubet contremiscere.” So, also, on the comment on זהב, ver. 22; “Ceterum splendoris ex aquilone mentio pertinet ad descriptionem appropinquantis media in tempestate Dei.” We find the beginning of this in the close of Job 36 : “His thunder is announcing Him;” the cattle (מִקְנֶה), feeding on the plains are startled by the ominous noise (36:33). Then, immediately (37:1), “At this” (אף לזאת, as though pointing to something coming on and visible to all), “my heart trembles, and leaps out of its place.” “Hear, O hear, the roar of His voice, the muttering that proceedeth from His mouth; under the whole heavens He is sending it; His lightning to the far horizon. After it, hark, a sound is roaring (ישאג, descriptive future). He is thundering with His majestic voice, and we cannot trace them when that voice is heard.” It is all most graphic, calling to mind the speech of Prometheus (Æsch. Prom. Vinct. 1081) as he goes down in the midst of the storm: βρυχία δ’ ἠχὼ παραμυκᾶται— how it bellows long and loud. Here, as there, it is the deep baritone thunder reverberating all round the horizon. “There is no tracking it (לֹא יְעַקְבֵם), though the sound is heard.” It seems to be everywhere; there is no determining the long roll to any particular quarter of the sky. Then follows a stillness for a time, during which the black סְעָרָה is slowly rising. Again the speaker, though there is an awe upon his soul, attempts to go on with his moralizing on the voice and the marvellous works of God; in all of which he seems more or less influenced by the signs in the heavens as they become more and more startling, or give rise to occasional sudden remarkings upon particular phenomena: “See how He spreads His lightning cloud (Conant), and turns it with His guidance every way” (5:12). The tempestuous wind (5:17), is growing in heat and strength; the intervals of darkness become overpowering; he “cannot order his speech by reason of them.” But, lo, a new and startling appearance,—a strange light coming out of the North. He calls it זהב, gold, literally, but here most probably a golden sheen (LXX. νέφη χρυσαυγοῦντα), some electrical or auroral light (aureus, aurum), suddenly gleaming forth from the Borealic region, or, it may be, lining the edge of the nimbus, as is sometimes the case when it is heavily charged with the electric fluid. “From the North, see, the amber light is coming,” comp. Ezekiel 1:4 (יאתה, descriptive future). It is this phenomenon, so remarkable and so suddenly arresting the attention of all, that gives the subsequent language its ejaculatory character. There is terror mingled with the glory: “Surely with God there is dreadful majesty.” What follows is in the same broken and elliptical style. אדי, “Shaddai, He it is; we cannot find Him out.” All through there are those descriptive features indicating something coming on of an eventful character. The language becomes more and more that of one subdued in spirit, and awed by the sense of a near divine presence, driving him from his loquacious wisdom: “Great in strength and righteousness; He answers not” (לֹא יַעֲנֶח in Kal, instead of Piel); surely should we fear Him;” that is now more becoming than argument, however seemingly profound; for “He regardeth not the חכמי לב, those who are wise in their own understandings,” and presume to judge of His ways. “Then answered Jehovah from the storm-cloud,” הַסְּעָרָה, with the article, the storm-cloud that has been described. As thus viewed in connection with Elihu’s speech, and especially the latter part of it, so broken and abrupt, there is a power in the whole representation which compels us to regard it as consummately artistic or, what is still more credible, an actual painting from the life, a real scene from that olden time, and an actual theophany, like those witnessed by Abraham, Moses, and Elijah. On the other hand, cut out the speech of Elihn, or bring the divine address right after Job 31, and we seem to have a hiatus in the drama which all criticism fails to mend. The remarkable language, 5:22, about “the gold coming from the North (the Borealic aurora) may well be compared with Ezekiel 1:4 : “A storm (סערה) coming from the North, and a brightness in the circuit, and in the midst of it, כעין החשמל) like the color of brass (aurichalcum) Vulg. quasi species electri.” [80]The primary sense of כחד is abnegation,—treating a thing as though it was not, or casting it off as utterly false and vile. Hence in Hiphil it gets the sense of putting out of sight (ἀφανίζειν, which is used in the Greek to denote extreme destruction), exstirpavit, delevit. The Niphal is passive of Hiphil. See its strong sense, Exodus 23:3; ZeJob 11:8. [81] More just than God, more pure, etc. So our translation and Luther have it, with which Dr. Conant agrees. The Vulgate, Dei comparatione. Umbreit, Ewald, Delitzsch, Dillmann, Merx, Rosenmüller, et al., reject the idea of מן, comparative, and regard it as equivalent to עם, 25:4; Coram Deo, and in Numbers 32:22; Jeremiah 51:5. The reasons are that the other rendering, “more just than God” would be an utterly extravagant thought, which no one would think of seriously holding. And yet it might be suggested by Job’s bitter complainings. [82] III. 13. ישנתי: “I should have slept; then would there have been rest to me”—יָנוּח לִי to me, or even to me. The impersonal form with the preposition is emphatic. This feeling of distrust and jealousy is made more clear by what he says at the close about his want of rest, even in the day of his prosperity: “What he had somehow feared had come upon him,” 3:25. [83] Even the harshest parts assume something of a different aspect when we thus take into view the origin and progress of the controversy. Many of these charges will appear to be essentially hypothetical. For it is clear that the friends of Job had no knowledge of any crimes that he had committed. In Job 22. Eliphaz seems to charge him directly with the most atrocious deeds. But the beginning of the chapter is evidently the repelling of the idea, on which Job seems strongly to insist, of a personal controversy, as it were, between him and God, or as one contending with him. It is not, as Eliphaz would seem to argue, such a personal contending whatever else it may be; for that could only be on account of some great sins which had truly roused the divine anger. This hypothetical view may be carried clear through the chapter: “Will He for fear of thee rebuke thee, or enter with thee into controversy? Is it not rather (הלא), or would it not be rather רעתך רבה, thy great evil, or for some great evil of thine?” So the Vulgate takes it as a hypothetical question instead of a direct charge: Numquid timens arguat te et non propter malitiam tuam plurimam; “Would it not be on account of thy wickedness, and because of thine iniquities numberless?” Thus stated, hypothetically, the כי that follows is specificative. Would it not be on account of thy numerous iniquities, namely, that thou hadst taken a pledge, that thou hadst stripped the naked, favored the mighty, and oppressed the widow, etc.? The manner of stating these crimes (the standing Bible examples of great wickedness) would also seem to show that the imputations were hypothetical, instead of direct. It may be a suspicion occasioned by Job’s vehement complaints, but it would hardly seem to amount to anything stronger,—or a mere conjecture, as Cocceius regards it: “Nam fortassis pignus cepisti, etc.—conjecturaliter et disjunctive explico, nulla repugnante Grammatica, ne crudeliores sententias quam ipsi amici in Jobum cudam.” Umbreit and Ewald express surprise at the particularity of these atrocious accusations, and wonder how Eliphaz came to the knowledge of them, but the charges themselves they would easily explain by their all—explaining Vergeltungslehre: Job suffered severely; therefore, he must have been an enormous sinner. What soon follows shows that we must somehow modify the interpretation that makes these charges to be direct, or as something truly believed by the speaker: “Acquaint now thyself with Him (ver. 21), and be at peace” (שׁלם) give up this idea of a contention, or be composed. There is, indeed, a general exhortation to return to the Almighty, and put away evil; as it had also been said that he was in darkness and terror, on account of the spirit he showed (vers. 10, 11, 23). But it is not the kind of language we should expect to be used towards one who had robbed widows, and broken, the arms of orphans. Nothing less than unconditional repentance and restitution would have been thought of. But how different the advice of this reproving friend: הסכן (the Kal, ver. 3, and denoting quieting, profitable intercourse) Here, in Hiphil, it is well rendered “acquaint thyself,” be quiet before God, become familiar with Him, learn to think better of Him and His ways; “lay up His words in thy heart.” It is addressed to one supposed to be in the wrong, yet still having some degree of favor with God, or, at least, one with whom God was not contending, as He contends with the hardened and atrocious sinner, so particularly described. [84] This appears especially in chapters 21 and 27, where Job would seem to aim at surpassing them in this kind of painting. Sometimes the transition is quite sudden, as though he had felt he had gone too far in the opposite direction. The surprise occasioned by this has led to forced constructions. Thus, 21:17, some would render כמה, “how seldom,” or, “how often,” with the implied idea of doubt, or with a sarcastic reference. This is contrary to the constant usage of כמה, and Psalms 78:40, cited by Gesenius and Hupfeld, does not support it. [85] From these we may at once exclude those in which אל follows the verb נִבָּא, or הִתְנָבֵּא, to prophesy. They may be rendered, prophecy concerning; but the preposition does not lose its original idea of direction—prophecy to, or at, or against. So also where Noldius renders it propter as Lamentations 4:17 : “our eyes are consumed,” אל עזרתנו, “on account of our help.” The idea is, looking to or for our help, elliptically expressed. There is the same kind of ellipsis in the few other examples he gives, as 1 Samuel 4:21 : “this she said (looking to, in view of) the taking of the ark,” &c. There is no need of rendering it propter; the vivid pathos is lost by so doing. 2 Samuel 21:1 : “And the Lord said,” אל שאול—there is an ellipsis any way. “And the Lord said—to Saul”—that is, look to Saul. Noldius fills it up tamely: “(it is) on account of Saul and his bloody house.” 1 Kings 19:3 : “He went, אל נפשו, for his life”—a peculiar phrase, but may be rendered literally, instead of by propter, on account of. Psalms 84:3, “My heart and flesh cry out,” אֶל־אֵל חָי, rendered by Noldius: “On account of the living God,” but far better literally, “to the living God.” So in the cases where he would render it de, it will be found that the object is ever present, and there is the idea of direct reference, or pointing to it. As 1 Samuel 1:27, where Hannah says, “I prayed, אל הנעד הזה, for this child,” as something present—the direct object. 2 Kings 19:32, “Thus saith the Lord,” אל מלך. It was indeed about the King of Assyria, but how much more vivid is it when taken directly, to, at, against; Deodat. French Version, touchant le roi. The two or three others under that head can all be resolved in the same manner. 2d Psalms 7, אספרה אל חק, cannot be rendered “concerning the decree.” Genesis 20:2, “And Abraham said, אל שרה, to Sarah, she is my wife.” Sarah was present, and the saying was to her—as an intimation to Abimelech. [86] See Raschi Comment. Job 40:4; Job 42:7. In the latter place he puts his strained interpretation in the mouth of Deity Himself: “Ye have not spoken the right like my servant Job, שהרי הוא לא פשע בי כי אם על אשר אמר תם ורשע הוא מכלה וגו, for lo, he never transgressed against Me except in that he said, The innocent and the wicked He alike consumes,” and “of the scourge,” etc. [87] The substance of the argument for and against the much controverted genuineness of the Elihu passage, is briefly yet clearly given by Rev. A. B. Davidson, in his excellent Commentary on Job, the first volume of which was published in 1862. After presenting the main objections in the text, with very satisfactory answers of his own, as well as from Stickel and others, he gives, in a note to page 41, some others which he justly styles “examples, less of reason than of critical petulance”: “As the following, (1) That Elihu does not appear in the Prologue. But Job’s three friends are not named as coming to debate with him; their object was condolence. (2) Elihu is not named in the Epilogue. But there was really nothing to say of him; so far as he agreed with Job he is commended in his commendation; so far as he agreed with the words of God, he has his reward in hearing his own sentiments repeated by the divine lips. The reference made even to the friends of Job, in the Epilogue, is but casual; for the drama concerns Job only, and takes end with him; and even Satan, who should have come before the curtain humbled and prostrate, to receive the jeers of an assembled world, nowhere appears. (3) Job makes no answer to Elihu. And for the best of reasons: His heart is stricken by Elihu’s words. (4) Elihu addresses Job by name, as the original disputants do not. But Elihu comes in as an arbiter, and must use names to distinguish between both parties whom he addresses; and God Himself adopts the same mode of addressing Job in opposition to the friends.” The objection arising from Elihu’s alleged Aramaisms, is well answered by Stickel (cited by Davidson), in saying: “that Elihu is himself an Aramean (Job 32:2, of the family of Ram, that is, Aram), and naturally spoke in that dialect.” But these Aramaisms are greatly overstated. There is evidence in several places of other persons being present during parts, at least, of this long discussion—some to pity, some to mock Job, and some as silent spectators. [88] הַסְּעָרָה. The article (the storm) is very natural, if we take it in connection with those strong premonitory symptoms of an approaching tempest that marked the close of Elihu’s speech. In the other supposed connection it is far from being easy, though possibly allowable. [89] It is in respect to this that Job is assigned, by many commentators, to what they call the Chokma portion of the Bible, making it coeval with the Proverbs, or the time of Solomon, a little earlier or a little later. Delitzsch supposes the Wisdom of the Proverbs to be an advance development, and therefore later. Merx, on the other hand, regards the author of Job as “polemizing” against the Proverbs writer. But why not the other way, if there is a difference, the author of Proverbs 8 “polemizing” against the older author of Job? [90] The modern Natural Theology has very little like it in the Bible. It may be said, too, in general, to be out of the line of the ancient thinking, Pythagorean and Platonic, as well as Shemitic. Ideas, divine thoughts, as having in themselves an artistic or intellectual excellence, in a word, the glory of God, take precedence of mere utilitarian final causes. [91] Instead of a sense of artificialness, it is truly with something like a feeling of ease and freedom that we emerge from the curt, statistical dialect into these more spontaneous utterances, in whatever parts of the Bible they may occur. As when Moses, as though weary of his lawgiving, breaks out into song: Give ear, O ye heavens, and I will speak; And hear, O Earth, the words of my mouth. Equally unconscious of anything artificial was Isaiah when he opens his prophecy with similar language, or predicts that men Shall beat their swords into ploughshares, Their spears into pruning-hooks; Or the sententious Solomon thus falling into measure in the utterance of his prudential wisdom: My son, hear the instructions of thy father, And forsake not the law of thy mother. It is found everywhere in Scripture, and in the mouths of all classes, whatever may be their variety of character: Lord, when Thou wentest out of Zion, When thou marched’st out of the field of Edom. —Deborah. Where thou goest, I will go; Where thou lodgest, I will lodge; Thy people shall be my people, Thy God my God. —Ruth. The soul of my lord is bound in the bundle of life; The souls of thine enemies cast forth from the sling. —Abigail. For we must needs die, and are as water spilt, But God doth gather again his banished ones. —Widow of Tekoah. The Spirit of the Lord spake by me; His word was in my tongue. —Last Words of David. The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich; He bringeth low and lifteth high. —Hannah. So in Luke, Elizabeth, and Mary, and Simeon, break out spontaneously in this same rapt measured language; and in like manner does John in the Revelation rise into poetry, if we choose to give it that name. It is, however, nothing essentially different from what we have in the Psalms and Job, and even in Ecclesiastes. Those who made such utterances did not think they were speaking or writing poetry as a studied or artificial language. The state of soul, as caused by the moving circumstances, made it spontaneous; usage made it easy; it was a natural speaking—not an improvising as some might be inclined to call it; for that implies something like knack or skill, however acquired, and has, besides, but little of value or significance beyond the mere surprise it occasions. It need only be said, that we have something of an echo of this old style in the Koranic rhymes and cadences, though there the artifice is clearly visible. [92] It is, in fact, this very kind of language, indicating, as it does, the absence of invention, which shows the state of the writer’s mind in relation to it, and his firm belief in the substantial truth of the story, whether derived from near witnesses, or from remoter tradition. As we have elsewhere remarked (Note to Lange Gen. , p. 319), “there is something in this subjective truthfulness as denoted by wide and rounded statements. which is far more precious to a right faith, than any attempt at objective or scientific accuracy.” “All the high hills under the whole heaven” Genesis 7:19, is evidently the language of a spectator deeply moved by the scene as he beholds it. How much more full of satisfaction is this to a right thinking, than any numerical or geographical settlement of the question about the extent of the flood. In the emotion evidently denoted by such words, there is carried the vivid impression of reality, and this is what we most need. So, too, Acts 2:5 : “And there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews devout men out of every nation under heaven!” We cannot resist the feeling of some most real memorable assemblage, that gave rise to such an impassioned description. It is not at all the style of legend but of deep emotion. A still more remarkable proof of our seeming paradox, is the language of the loving and beloved disciple, John 21:23. What a vivid reality must there have been in that character which calls out the seemingly extravagant language: “Not even the world could contain the books that should be written.” The comparison is to be taken, not as a measure of outward fact, but as an expression of devotion, of admiration, of boundless love. In this sense it is no extravagance; the hyperbole wholly disappears. When John wrote that Gospel, the world of sense, with all its images, failed to set forth the excellence of Christ. “Heaven and earth were full of his glory.” He must have lived, most objectively lived, who produced such an impression. Inwardly it was the most truthful of utterances. Let us suppose that the statement had been more guardedly made, and instead of the world it had been said: “Hardly a folio volume would have sufficed for the recital of what Jesus had done;” how would it have diminished that real power and truthfulness to which the strongest utterances were inadequate. The same view may be taken of all parts of the Old Testament, where immense numbers, especially round numbers, are employed; as in the emotional statements of certain great battles with their countless slaughter. The case is different when statistical accuracy enters into the very essence of the account, as in the details of the Tabernacle and of the Levitical sacrifices. [93] A difficulty is made from the statement of Job’s age at the close of the Book. It comes from adding the number there mentioned (140 years) to his supposed former life, which could hardly have been less than 50 or 60 years, thus making, in all, two hundred years or more. But there is no need of this; the most easy and unforced rendering would take this term, 140 years, as the entire length of his life. He lived till he became 140 years old. This is in harmony with his seeing his children to the fourth generation, or great grand-children, even though born after he was fifty years old. The words אַֹהֲרֵי זֹאת, “after this” are not in conflict with such a view. It may very easily be rendered: “After this Job lived on, even to the age of 140 years.” Such an age is not improbable, even for a later time than the patriarchal. There are examples of such longevity in quite modern times. [94] There are the best of reasons for calling Job a drama, if we do not take the word in too narrow a sense. It has all the essential parts of such a composition: its Prologue, its Dialogue, and its Crisis. It has, moreover, its great ἆθλον, trial or prize. It is the very heart of the Book, possessing even an Epic grandeur of interest. The integrity of Job, the very soul of Job, we may say, is the matter of this test, the subject of this ἀγών, or strife between God and Satan. To accommodate Homer’s language, Iliad xxii. 160, to a far higher theme: οὐχ ἱερήίον, οὐδὲ βοείη, ἄλλὰ περὶ ψΥΧΗΣ μάρνανται ἀθανάτοιο. Even if its action were wholly spiritual, it would, none the less, be entitled to the name dramatic. It has, however, as much of outward movement as the Prometheus Vinctus of Æschylus, or the Philoctetes of Sophocles. In the latter, too, the dramatic interest is chiefly in the spiritual strife arising out of intense bodily pain. We may say, too, on the ground of the same authorities, that its historical truth, be it more or less, does not at all stand in the way of its dramatic character. Some degree of such historical truth, real or supposed, is, in fact, demanded by it. All the Greek tragedies are so constructed on old narratives believed to be real; such as those of the Trojan and Argonautic ages. It needed something of the kind to inspire them; so that while a few, like the Persæ of Æschylus, are almost wholly historical, none are pure fictions. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 7: 01.6. JOB RHYTHMICAL VERSION ======================================================================== SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE RHYTHMICAL VERSION __________ The term Rhythmical is preferred to Metrical, because the latter name, though in itself appropriate, is also used of Biblical translations not strictly in Rhythm, or Metre, but only adopting the metrical division, ἐν στίχοις, or as suggested by the Hebrew parallelism. The present is an attempt to give the Book of Job in a true rhythmical form. The determination of that form, however, requires careful study. There are, it is said, some old English Versions of Job in rhyme. That, however, was not to be thought of. Aside from the difficulty such a method would make in preserving the exegetical accuracy demanded, it was felt that to such a production as Job the jingle of rhyme would be altogether belittling. Our common blank verse line of five feet would present no great difficulty in itself. With a little change, even our Common English Version might be put into that form with a preservation of all such accuracy as it possesses. But there were two objections to it. The first is that such blank verse, though having more dignity than rhyme, would become too monotonous, as the reader would presently feel, and would, therefore, be poorly adapted to the exceedingly passionate and abrupt parts of this divine poem. In the second place, it would require a disregard of the Hebrew accentuation and parallelism as determining the close of lines, and demanding inequality. What we call blank verse is, in fact, only rhythmical, or, rather, measured, prose. The divisions into lines on the page of the book are but for the eye. The thought goes over them, not only to the completion of sentences, but of clauses and subordinate divisions. In other words, the ends of lines are not marked by any peculiar cadence either in the rhythm, as in Greek, or in the thought, as in Hebrew. By the ear alone, one could not tell whether the reader was at the beginning, at a mid cæsura, or at the ends of verses. Now the Hebrew parallelisms, whether they have within them what may strictly be called rhythm or not, are ever marked by distinct closings, determined both by the cadence of the thought, and by the position of the accents. This must be attended to,—and the translator has aimed at its strictest observance. For such a purpose, inequality of lines is absolutely demanded, since the Hebrew divisions thus made are of very different lengths. Besides, such inequality, if rightly managed, is an excellence and a beauty in itself. It prevents monotony, and gives, moreover, the freedom that is wanted in the more impassioned parts,—especially in Job’s sighing, soliloquizing, and sometimes almost delirious utterances. Thus the reader will perceive, that in order to preserve these important elements of parallelism and accent, there has been employed a very peculiar kind of rhythm. It bears an outward resemblance to what is sometimes incorrectly called Pindaric in English verse. But this is a misnomer, because the true Pindaric has different kinds of feet, or measures, as well as different lengths of lines. Here, however, one kind of foot, the iambus (˘–) or the iambic spondee, is universal. Other feet, as they very rarely occur, are merely substitutes for it. Thus the anapæst (˘˘–) is used sometimes at the beginning of a line, as also a choriamb (–˘˘–), occasionally, but ever in such a way as to commence a dipode with the stronger ictus. The tribrach (˘˘˘) very rarely occurs. It is avoided as unmusical, though commonly regarded as admissible among English iambi. In regard to the lines, the principal one is the common pentameter, or blank verse line of English poetry. The Alexandrine comes in much more rarely, and almost always in the second or closing part of a parallelism. In such a position, especially at the end of some impassioned utterance, comes, now and then, the heptameter, or long line of seven feet, used by Bryant in some of his poems, and by Chapman in his translation of Homer. It is equivalent to two lines of our Common Metre, but much more harmonious, on account of its long unsevered movement. As in the first line of the following couplet: And thou thyself | in ripened age | unto thy grave | shalt come, As sheaf that in its season to the garner mounts; the second being an Alexandrine. Mingled with the common blank verse line of five, there comes very frequently one or more of four feet; whilst in the transitions, and in the commencement of some new peculiar strain, there are short lines of three, and occasionally of two feet, or a single dipode. The trimeter not unfrequently makes a very satisfactory close after pentameters: Higher than Heaven’s height! what canst thou do? Deeper than Sheol’s depths! what canst thou know? Its measurement is longer than the earth, And broader than the sea. But what need of this? it may be said. The great thing is to get the idea, however it may be expressed, in English. Attempts at verse must necessarily impair the force and clearness of the thought. To this it may be replied, in the first place, that facility, smoothness in reading, are to be desired, if the sense is not sacrificed, and that the feeling accompanying the thought may be a most important part of the thought itself. In the second place, paradoxical as it may seem to some minds, it may be maintained that the sense is actually made more clear in a rhythmical translation, if properly done, inasmuch as it gives that element of emotion without which the sense, in its essence and entirety, is not truly received. There may, indeed, be an overloading, and an obscuration, arising from too much artificialness; but whether that can be charged upon the present attempt, is left to the judgment of the reader. For fuller reasons in support of a position that may seem so paradoxical, he is referred to the Introduction to the Metrical Version of Ecclesiastes, Vol. X. of the Lange Series, page 171. The ground taken is that we cannot do justice to poetry unless we read it as poetry,—that is, not simply knowing it to be such in the original, but feeling it to be so as we peruse the translation. Now this cannot easily be done in a rough unrhythmical prose version. The disorder in the dress is constantly interfering with this feeling we wish to have. Thus reading it as prose, in spite of our knowledge of its being poetry, we are constantly expecting the more logical transitions; and when they are not found, it seems all a disconnected and, sometimes, unmeaning rhapsody. A very simple rhythm, if it be smooth, may give the feeling that should accompany, whilst yet keeping as close to the lexical and grammatical sense as any purely prose translation could do. By this simple outward process, the soul of the reader is set in the right direction. The subjective predominates. He gets into the current of thought and feeling, and the purely emotional transitions become not only easy, but natural. When they occur, they are felt to be something we might expect,—and the mind thus prepared, not only apprehends them at once, but sees in them an exquisite emotional appropriateness. Thus the passage is actually better understood from the very fact of its rhythmical form. In this way a verse translation of a poem in another language, with the same number of words, or with a very small difference, may carry the whole sense, that is, both emotion and idea, more surely and more distinctly than any prose version could have done that had been constructed with the utmost regard to lexical accuracy. This may be tested by a comparison which would appeal to every reader’s common sense, as well as literary taste. Take Bryant’s translation of the Iliad. Its blank verse is not only very smooth, as verse, but remarkably faithful. It is an evidence how near one may bring the English to the Greek, and yet preserve a simple though musical metrical form. Let the effect of this be contrasted, not with the overloaded rhymes of Pope, but with the best prose translation that could be made, having for its aim the utmost lexical accuracy, and availing itself of every help that could be derived from the study of Eustathius, and of all the scholiasts. Certainly, Bryant carries us farther into the very soul of Homer than any such prose translations could possibly do, even though aided by so complete a scholastic apparatus. From such a view, the Biblical commentator himself, dry as his work generally is, gets a new insight, as it were, by coming into the emotional spirit of the language he is explaining. But all this, it may be said, is interpreting by the imagination; it is letting one’s self be led away by a feeling which may, or may not, have come from the passage. There is, indeed, danger of this; but then it may be truly said that a man with no emotion from what he is studying—a man having a mere intellectual interest, or possessed of little or no imagination—can never be a good commentator, or a good translator of Job, or of the Psalms, or of the Hebrew Prophets, or even of Homer. He must certainly fail in what is more essential than any mere grammatical exegesis, most valuable and important as that may be. Again, there is a great deal of emphasis, and of what may be called emotional or exclamatory power in certain Hebrew words and idioms, which the corresponding words in English, and the nearest English idioms, fail to express. There is needed some interjection, some qualifying particle, which comes in easy and natural when it so comes from the sustained flow of rhythmical feeling instinctively, as it were, selecting the right words. One of the coolest temperament cannot read Job without seeing that there must be in it much of this post-scenic language. It may be a tone, a sigh, a pause of silence, an imploring or a deprecating look, a demonstrative gesture, all of them intimated in the words themselves, or revealed in the answers of the disputants who understand their fullest import, and all making up that life-scene, that unmistakable reality, which is insisted on in the Addenda, Excursus I. and II., pp. 5–6. It is this consideration to which the translator would appeal as justifying epithets occasionally, though quite rarely, applied by him to Hebrew nouns. In all such cases it will be found that they belong to the emphasis of the passage, and that, without them, the English reader would receive a deficient idea, and certainly a deficient feeling, of the substantives to which they are attached. Thus “visions dire,” Job 7:14; the epithet is necessary because חזיון means more than vision in this place. It is more than the seeing: it is the thing seen—a phantom, a spectre. So תרדמה, Job 4:13, rendered “vision-seeing trance,” is more than any slumber, however deep. Its vision-seeing or clairvoyant nature appears from Genesis 2:21 : Adam’s deep sleep; Genesis 15:12 : Abraham’s vision-seeing trance; 1 Samuel 20:12 : the sleep that God sent upon Saul. It is used, indeed, of deep slumber generally, but in Job 4:13 it evidently has this mysterious trance significance which is so unmistakable in the passages referred to. A similar remark applies to those occasional cases where the translator has placed words in brackets, though forming a part of the movement of the line. They denote something quite evidently to be implied, whether as hidden in some emotional particle, or as indicating a thought that has come in during some touching pause of silence, especially in the speeches of Job (see Addenda aforesaid, pa. 6), and which, though unexpressed in words, appears in the coloring it gives to what follows as something well understood by the repliants and all who were spectators of the scene. A few words in regard to the language and style of the Version. Of the first, it may be said that the aim has been to make it as pure Saxon-English as possible. Words of that kind have ever been preferred. Some very plain and even homely expressions have been used, as having all the more force and pathos by reason of their plainness. Much use has also been made of the poetical element of inversion, but not at all, it is thought, beyond the degree of which the English is capable. It has often seemed to the writer that, throughout the English Bible, the translators might have kept much more of this than appears; as in that beautiful example, Acts 3:6 : “Silver and gold have I none, but what I have, that give I unto thee.” In this way, whilst making the Scriptures more impressive, and even more clear, they might have enriched our language with vivid forms of speech, which the very reading of the Bible would, long ere this, have completely naturalized, even had they seemed strange, or semi-poetical, in the beginning. In this matter of style, too, may be mentioned the use of the nominative independent, which is of frequent occurrence in English, especially in animated or poetical English, and is still more marked in the Arabic, where the subject so often stands by itself, as l’inchoatif, to use De Sacy’s and the native Arabic technic, whilst the pronoun representing it is expressed or included in the form of the verb. It is also quite common in Hebrew, so that whilst it may be used freely in an English translation of any Hebrew sentence containing subject and predicate (l’énonciatif), it is actually demanded when the subject stands first,—as, for example, Job 11:2 : A flood of words, demands it no reply? Or, again, where it is the object of the verb that is thus treated: That night! thick darkness seize it. Other similar features of style, in respect to which pains have been taken, might be mentioned, were it not for the fear of making this Introduction too long. There need only be a reference to the pauses and notes of silence introduced in some places, especially in Job’s hesitating and panting speeches,—as the whole subject is fully discussed in the Addenda, pp. 178, 179, to which the reader is directed. To the text of the Version there have been added in the margin quite full exegetical notes. These have been intended to explain, not only every departure from the Common English Version, but also every thing in the Version offered that might seem to demand elucidation for the reader, besides a careful presentment of those difficult passages on which all commentators have dwelt, more or less. In this part of the work the author has taken pains to avail himself of the best helps. The old Versions (Greek, Latin, and Syriac) have continually been consulted, the Targum, the Jewish Commentary of Raschi, the old Commentators as their opinions are given in Poole’s Synopsis, the best of the more modern, such as Lud. de Dieu, Schultens, Umbreit, Ewald, Dillmann, Delitzsch, Schlottmann, Pareau, Merx, Davidson, Good, Rosenmueller, Barnes, Noyes, together with Conant and our own Zöckler, who are not the least among them. More or less consulted have been other German commentators, such as Heiligstedt, Vaihinger, Hirzel, et al. Important aid has also been derived from the French Version of Renan. To these may be added that immense work, Caryl on Job, in two very large folio volumes. (1650.) This quaint old Puritan Commentator has not been appreciated as he deserves. Equal in Biblical learning to the most learned of an age abounding in such men as Usher, Pocock, Lightfoot, Bochart, he excells them all in that spiritual discernment which makes him especially serviceable to those who would obtain the deepest acquaintance with this Book of Job. It is to him not a work of art, not a drama, not a fiction in any sense, but a divinely given case of religious experience. His critical as well as practical remarks are all penetrated with this idea, giving him an insight, even into Hebrew words and idioms, which the learning that lacks such a conviction so often fails to supply. The translator, moreover, does not hesitate to say that after giving these valuable helps all due attention, he has not wholly rejected his own independent judgment. Often has it been yielded in deference to superior authority and further study. In other cases, however, it is maintained, though always, he thinks, with a becoming diffidence. The whole is submitted to the reader with the hope that it may be regarded as making some contribution to our Biblical Literature. T.L. RHYTHMICAL VERSION Of The BOOK OF JOB __________ Chapter 1 1There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. This man was pure 2and just, one who feared God and shunned evil. There were born to him seven 3sons and three daughters. His wealth was seven thousand sheep and goats, and three thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and a very great household of servants. And this man was great above all the Sons of the East. 4Now his sons used1 to hold a feast, each one of them at his own house, and on his own day; and they sent invitations to their sisters to eat and drink with them. 5And it was2 the way of Job when these festival days came3 round, that he sent and purified them. To this end he rose early in the morning, and offered burnt-offerings according to the number of them all; for it was a saying4 of Job: it may be that my sons have sinned and cursed5 God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually. 6Now it was the6 day when the Sons of God came to present themselves before the7 Lord; and Satan (the Adversary or the Accuser8) came also among them. 7And the Lord said to Satan, Whence comest thou? And Satan answered the Lord and said: From going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down9 in it. 8And the Lord said to Satan: Hast thou observed my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a man pure and just, fearing God and shunning evil? 9Then Satan answered the Lord and said: Doth Job fear God for nought? 10Hast thou not made a hedge10 about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side. Thou hast blessed the work of his hands: his wealth has spread abroad in the land. 11But put forth thy hand now and touch all that he hath, and see if he will not curse thee to thy face. 12And the Lord said to Satan: Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only against his person put not forth thy hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord. 13Now it was the day that his sons and his daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their brother, the first-born. 14And there came a messenger to Job and said: The cattle were ploughing, the she asses were feeding beside them, 15when the Sabæans fell upon them and took them; The servants also have they smitten with the edge of the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee. 16While he was still speaking, there came another and said: The fire of God fell from heaven, and burned the flocks and the young men, and consumed them; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee. 17While he was still speaking, there came another, and said: The Chaldæans made three bands, and set upon the camels and took them. The servants also have they slain with the sword; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee. 18While he was still speaking, there came another and said: Thy sons and thy daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their brother, the first-born. 19And behold, there came a great wind from the direction of the wilderness, and struck upon the four corners of the house, so that it fell upon the young people, and they are dead; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee. 20Then Job arose and rent his garment, and shaved his head; and he fell to the earth and worshipped. And he said: 21All naked from my mother’s womb I came, And naked there shall I again return. Jehovah gave, Jehovah takes away; Jehovah’s name be blessed. 22In all this Job sinned not, nor charged cruelty11upon God. Chapter 2 1Again it was the day when the Sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord; and Satan came also among them to present himself before the Lord. 2Then said the Lord to Satan: Whence comest thou? And Satan answered the Lord and said: From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and 3down in it. Then said the Lord to Satan: Hast thou observed my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a man pure and just, fearing God and shunning evil? And still he holds fast his integrity, though thou didst move me against him to destroy him without cause. 4And Satan answered the Lord and said: Skin after skin12; yea all that a man hath will he give for his life. 5But put forth thy hand now, and touch his bone; touch his flesh; and see if he will not curse thee to thy face! 6And the Lord said to Satan: Behold, he is in thy hand, only spare his life. 7Then Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord, and smote Job with a grievous sore, from the sole of his foot to his crown. 8And he took a potsherd to scrape himself therewith, as he sat among the ashes. 9Then said his wife to him: 10Dost thou still hold fast thine integrity? Curse13 God and die. But Job said to her: Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we, then, accept14 good at the hands of God, and shall we not accept evil? In all this Job sinned not with his15 lips. 11Now three friends of Job heard of all this evil that was come upon him. And they came, each one from his place, Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, for they made an appointment together to go 12and mourn with him, and to comfort him. And they lifted up their eyes afar off, and knew him not; and they wept aloud, and rent, each one, his mantle, and 13sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven. And they sat down with him upon the earth, seven days and seven nights; and none spake a word to him; for they saw that his pain16 was very great. Chapter 3 1After this Job opened his mouth and cursed his day. 2And Job began and said, 3Perish the day when I was to be17 born, The night that said,18 a man child is conceived. 4 That day! O be it darkness evermore; Eloah never seek it from above, Nor ever shine the light upon its face. 5 Let darkness and the death shade call19 it back; Dense clouds upon it make their fixed abode; And dire eclipses20 fill it with affright. 6That night! thick darkness take it for its own. In the year’s reckoning may it never joy; Nor come into the number of the months. 7Lo! let that night be barren evermore, And let no sound of joy be heard therein. 8 Who curse the day, let them forever curse it,— They who are doomed21 to rouse Leviathan. 9Be dark its twilight stars. For light let it look forth, and look in vain; Nor may it ever see the eyelids of the dawn. 10For that it did not shut the womb when I was born, Nor hide the coming sorrow from mine eyes. 11Why at the birth did I not die— When from the womb I came—and breathe my last? 12Why were the nursing22 knees prepared? And why the breasts that I should suck? 13 For now in silence had I lain me down; Yea, I had slept and been at rest 14(With kings and legislators of the earth— The men who build their mouldering,23 monuments— 15Or princes once enriched with gold, Their homes with treasure filled), 16Or, like the hidden birth,24 had never lived; Like still-born babes that never saw the light. 17 For there the wicked cease from troubling; There the weary are at rest. 18There lie the captives all at ease; The driver’s voice they hear no more. 19The small and great alike are there; The servant from his master free. 20O why does He25 give light to one in pain? Or life to the embittered soul? 21To those who long for death that never comes; Who seek for it beyond the search of treasure; 22Who joy to exultation,—yea, Are very glad, when they can find the grave. 23[The grave!26]’tis for the man whose way is hid,— Whom God hath hedged around. 24For still my groaning goes before my food, My moans like water are poured forth. 25 For I did greatly fear,27 and it hath come; Yea, it hath come to me, the thing that was my dread: 26For I was not at ease, nor felt secure, Nor rested thoughtlessly—yet trouble came. Chapter 4 1Then answered Eliphaz, the Temanite, and said: 2 A word, should we attempt, wouldst thou be grieved? Yet who from speaking can refrain? 3Lo many hast thou taught, And strengthened oft the feeble hands. 4The faltering steps thy speech hath rendered firm, The sinking knees made strong. 5 But now to thee it comes, and thou art weary; It toucheth thee, and thou art all amazed. 6Is not thy pious28 fear thy confidence? Is not thy hope the pureness of thy ways? 7Call now to mind; when has the guiltless perished?29 And where were just men hopelessly destroyed? 8It is as I have seen, that they who evil plough— Who mischief sow, they ever reap the same. 9By the breath of God these perish utterly; By the blast of his fierce wrath are they consumed. 10(Hushed is) the lion’s cry, the schachal’s roar; The strong young lion’s teeth are crushed. 11The fierce old lion perishes from want; The lion’s whelps are scattered far and wide.30 12To me, at times,31 there steals a warning32 word; Mine ear its whisper seems to catch. 13In troubled thoughts from spectres of the night, When falls on men the vision-seeing33 trance,— 14And fear has come, and trembling dread, And made my every bone to thrill with awe34— 15’Tis then before me stirs a breathing form;35 O’er all my flesh it makes the hair rise up.36 16It stands;37 no face38 distinct can I discern; An outline is before mine eyes; Deep silence!39 then a voice I hear: 17 Is mortal 40 man more just than God? Is boasting 41 man more pure than He who made him? 18In His own servants, lo, He trusteth not, Even on His angels doth He charge42 defect. 19Much 43more to them who dwell in homes of clay, With their foundation laid in dust, And crumbled like the moth. 20From morn till night they’re stricken down, Without regard they perish utterly. 21 Their cord44 of life, is it not torn away? They die—still lacking45 wisdom. Chapter 5 1Call now. Does any answer thee? To whom among the Holy dost thou turn? 2 Grief slays the foolish man; It is the simple one whom anger kills. 3I’ve seen myself the foolish46 taking root; But soon I cursed his home. 4His sons, from safety far removed, Are trampled in the gate—no helper near. 5 His harvest doth the hungry man devour; Even from the thorns47 he seizes it; Whilst thirsty robbers swallow up his wealth. 6Be sure that evil comes not from the dust, Nor trouble grows as herbage from the ground. 7 Ah no!48 Man’s woe is from his birth. Thence rises it as rise the children of the flame. 8To God then, surely, would I seek; To God would I commit my trust; 9To God whose works are vast, his ways unsearchable, His wonders numberless; 10Who giveth rain upon the earth, And sendeth waters o’er the fields. 11The lowly ones he sets on high; The mourning souls in safety are exalted. 12He foils the cunning in their vain device; Their hands are powerless to work reality.49 13He snares the wise in their own craftiness; Whilst the dissembler’s plot is hurried on to ruin. 14These are the men who meet the darkness in the day; Who grope at highest noon as in the night. 15God rescues from the sword, from their devouring mouth, Yea, from the very hand, so strong, He saves the poor. 16And thus the weak has hope; And foul injustice shuts her greedy mouth. 17O blessed is the man whom God reproves; The Almighty’s chastening, therefore, spurn thou not. 18 ’Tis true he woundeth, yet he bindeth up. He smiteth, yet ’tis his own hand that heals. 19In troubles six will he deliver thee; In seven—still no harm shall touch thy soul. 20In famine, he from death50 will thee redeem,— In war, from the sword’s edge. 21From the tongue’s smiting thou art hidden safe; Nor shalt thou fear war’s wasting when it comes. 22At devastation and at famine shalt thou laugh; Of forest beasts51 thou shalt not be afraid. 23 For with the very stones hast thou a covenant; All creatures of the field hold peace with thee. 24 So shalt thou know thy tabernacle safe; Thine household muster, and find nothing gone.52 25Then shalt thou learn how numerous thy seed,— Thine offspring as the earth’s green growing herb. 26And thou thyself, in ripened age, unto thy grave shalt come, As sheaf that in its season to the garner mounts. Lo this; we’ve pondered well; this is our thought. O hear and know it; take it to thyself. Chapter 6 1Then Job replied 2O could my grief be weighed, And poised53 against it, in the scale, my woe! 3For now it would be heavier than the sand; And thence it comes, my incoherent54 speech. 4For Shaddai’s arrows are within my flesh; Their poison drinketh up my soul; God’s terrors stand arrayed before my face. 5Brays the wild ass when the green herb is nigh? Or lows the ox when fodder is before him? 6 Unsalted, tasteless—how can it be eaten? What relish is there in the white of eggs?55 7[So with your words]. My soul refuses taste. ’Tis food56 I loathe. 8O that my prayer were heard; That God would grant the thing for which I long. 9 Let him consent and crush me down; Let loose his hand and cut57 my thread of life. 10For here would be my comfort still, That I could yet endure,58 though he spare not— The Holy one, whose word I’ve not denied. 11But what then is my strength, that I should hope? And what mine end that I be patient still? 12My strength! is it the strength of stones? Or is my flesh of brass? 13Is not my help within me gone, And driven from me life’s reality?59 14Unto the faint, love still is due from friends,60 Even though he had the fear of God forsaken. 15Not so my friends—illusive as the brook, As bed of streams whose waters pass away; 16Whose turbid floods are darkened from the sleet, As on their face the snowflakes hide61 themselves. 17What time they shrink,62 deserted of their springs, As quenched in heat they vanish from their place, 18’Tis then their wonted ways are turned63 aside; Their streams are lost, gone up in emptiness. 19The caravans of Tema look for them. The companies of Sheba hope in vain. 20 Confounded are they where they once did trust; They reach the64 spot and stand in helpless65 maze. 21And thus are ye—but nought; A fearful spectacle ye see, and gaze in terror. 22Have I said, give to me? Or from your wealth be liberal for my66 sake? 23Or save me from the hostile67 hand, Or from the invader’s power redeem my life? 24Give me your counsel, and I’ll hold my peace; And let me clearly know where I am wrong. 25How mighty are the words of righteousness! But your reproving! how does it convince? 26At words do ye your censures aim? At wind—such words as one may utter in despair? 27 It is as68 though you cast lots for the orphan’s wealth; Or traffic69 made of one you called your friend. 28 And now, O turn to me, behold my face. I will not speak before you what is false. 29 Return, I pray; let not the wrong prevail. Return again; there’s justice on70 my side. 30 Is there perverseness in my tongue? Cannot my conscience71 still discern iniquity? Chapter 7 1Is not man’s life a warfare on the earth? His day, the hireling’s day? 2As gasps the servant for the shadow’s turn, As longs the toiler for his labor’s end,72 3So am I made the heir to months of wretchedness, And nights of pain they number73 out to me. 4 When I lie down I say: How long74 till I arise, and night be o’er?75 Then am I full of tossings till the dawn. 5My flesh is clothed with worms76 and clods of earth, My leprous skin heals up77 and runs again. 6My days are swifter than the weaver’s dart, They pass away without a gleam78 of hope. 7 Remember that my life is breath; Mine eye shall not again behold the good. 8 The eye that sees me now shall look on me no more; Thine eye shall seek me, but I shall be gone.79 9As fades the cloud, and vanishes away, So one goes down to Sheol, never to ascend. 10No more to his own house he cometh back, The place that knew him knoweth him no more. 11[’Tis so with me]. I’ll not withhold my words. In anguish of my spirit let80 me speak, And moan81 in bitterness of soul. 12Am I a sea, a monster of the deep? That thou should’st o’er me watch. 13I said, my bed shall comfort me; My couch shall lighten my complaint.82 14’Tis then thou scarest me with dreams, To fill me with alarm from visions dire. 15 So that my soul even strangling would prefer,— Death, rather than these bones83 16I loathe the sight, I would not thus live on.84 O let me then alone; my days are vanity. 17For what is man that thou should’st make him of so great account? That thou should’st set thy heart upon him? 18That thou should’st visit him each morning as it comes, And try him every moment? 19How long wilt thou not look away from me? Nor leave me till I draw my laboring85 breath. 20Watcher of men, if I have sinned what can I do to thee? That thou should’st set me for thy mark; That I should be a burden unto thee?86 21Why not lift up [the burden of] my sin, And put away all my iniquity? 22For soon shall I lie down in dust And thou shalt seek me but I shall not be. Chapter 8 1Then answered Bildad the Shuhite and said: 2How long wilt thou speak thus? And like a mighty wind pour forth thy words? 3The God above—does He in judgment err? The Almighty One—does He pervert the right?87 4If so it be thy sons have sinned, And He hath given them up to their own wickedness. 5If thou thyself should’st early seek to God, And to the Almighty make thine earnest88 prayer— 6If thou thyself wert right and pure, Then surely would He wake for thee, And make secure thy home of righteousness. 7However small might be thy first estate, Thy latter end should prosper gloriously. 8 Ask now the generation gone before. Yes, of their fathers set thyself to learn. 9[For we are but of yesterday, and nothing know; So like a shadow are our days on earth]. 10Will they not teach thee, speak to thee, In parables89 of deep experience? 11Grows high90 the reed except in marshy soil? Or swells the flag, no water near its root? 12In its rank greenness, as it stands, uncut, It drieth up before all other herbs. 13So are the ways of all who God forget. So perishes the hope of the impure. 14His confidence reveals its worthlessness;91 His trust,—it is a spider’s web. 15 He leans upon his house, but it abideth not; He grasps it, but it will not stand.92 16Or like the herb so green before the sun, Whose shoots go forth o’er all its garden bed; 17 Hard by the fountain93 do its roots entwine; Among its stones it looketh everywhere. 18If one uproot him from his place, It strait disowns him;94 thee I’ve never seen. 19 Lo this the joy of his brief way. (’Tis gone), but (like it) from the dust shall others spring. 20Lo, God the upright never casts away; Nor takes He by the hand the men of evil deeds. 21(Wait then) until He fill thy mouth with joy, Thy lips with jubilee. 22Thy haters shall be clothed with shame While tents of evil men are seen no more. Chapter 9 1Then answered Job and said: 2Most surely do I know that so it is. For how shall mortal man be just with God? 3Be it His will to call him to account,— For one in thousand of his sins no answer can he make. 4Most wise in heart, most strong in might! Who braves him with impunity? 5’Tis He that moves95 the mountains and they know it not; Who overturneth them in His fierce wrath; 6Who makes the earth to tremble from its place, Its strong foundations rock. 7’Tis He who bids the sun, and it withholds its rays; Who sealeth up the stars; 8Who bent96 the heavens all alone, And walks upon the mountain waves; 9Who made the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades,— The hidden97 constellations of the South; 10Who doeth mighty works—unsearchable,— And wonders infinite. 11 Lo! He goes by me, but I see him not; Sweeps98 past, but I perceive him not; 12See! He assails; then who shall turn him back? Or who shall say to Him, what doest thou? 13(Vain check!) Eloah turns not back His wrath Until the boldest99 aids go down beneath His hand. 14How, then, can I reply? And choose my words in controversy with him? 15I could not plead it, even were I just; But to my Judge100 must supplication make. 16If I had called, and He had answered me, I could not trust that He had heard my voice, 17He who101 o’erwhelms me with a whirlwind storm, And without cause my wounds so multiplies; 18Who doth not suffer me to catch102 my breath, But fills me with exceeding103 bitterness. 19 Speak I of strength? A strong one!104 Lo! how strong! Speak I of right? who sets for me a time? 20If I claim righteousness, my own words prove me wrong; Should I say I am pure, He’d show me still perverse. 21 I pure!105 I would not know myself; I should reject my life. 22’Tis all the same, and therefore do I say it; The pure, the wicked, He consumes alike. 23 Comes there the pestilential scourge that slays so suddenly! He mocks the trial106 of the innocent. 24Earth is abandoned to the wicked’s hand; The faces of its judges doth He veil.107 If not, who is it then, (the cause and source of all)? 25 My days are swifter than the post; They flee apace; they see no good; 26As sweeps the light papyrus bark, Or as the eagle dashes on its prey. 27 When I resolve, my mourning I’ll forget,— Cast off my look of sorrow, smile108 again, 28Then, with a shudder, I recall my woe; So sure am I Thou wilt not hold me guiltless. 29 Yes, I am wicked; (be it so); Why labor then in vain? 30Even should I wash myself in water pure as snow, And cleanse my hands in lye; 31Then would’st thou plunge me in the ditch; So that my very garments should abhor me. 32For He is not a man like me, that I should answer him. In judgment, then, together might we come. 33But now there is no umpire who can chide, And lay his tempering hand upon us both. 34O, would He take His rod away; So that His terror might not awe my soul; 35Then fearless would I plead my cause; For now I’m not109 myself. Chapter 10 1I am weary of my life, Unto my inward plaint I yield myself; O let me speak—my soul in bitterness.110 2Unto Eloah will I say, condemn me not; O, let me know why thou dost strive with me? 3Is it thy pleasure that thou should’st oppress? That thou should’st cast away thy handy work, And shine upon the counsel of the wicked? 4 Hast thou the eyes of flesh? Dost thou behold as mortal man beholdeth? 5Are thy days such as his, Or even like the mighty111 man, thy years? 6That thou should’st seek for my iniquity, And hunt up all my sin. 7’Tis to thy knowledge I appeal; I’m not (this)112 guilty man But none can save me from thy power. 8Still thine own hands have wrought me, fashioned me, In every part—all round. Dost thou destroy? 9Remember, now, that thou hast made me as the clay; And wilt thou turn113 me back to dust? 10Hast thou not poured me out as milk? And curdled me like114 cheese? 11With skin and flesh, hast thou not clothed me round? With bones and sinews115 woven firm my frame? 12With life and goodness hast thou favored me, Whilst o’er my breath thy providence hath watched. 13 But these things wast thou hiding in thy heart. All this, I know, was fixed in thy116 decree. 14When e’er I sin, thine eye is noting it; And thou wilt not absolve me from my guilt. 15 Yes, woe to me if I act wickedly; If righteous, still may I not lift ray head; So full of shame am I; but see117 my misery; 16For it swells118 high; so like a lion dost thou still pursue, And still repeat thy wondrous dealing with me. 17 Against me dost thou bring new witnesses. Thine anger with me dost thou still increase, As ever changing hosts against me come. 18 Why didst thou bring me from the womb? I should have died with no eye seeing me; 19I should have been us though I’d never been, From womb to grave translated speedily. 20How few my days! O let Him then forbear And turn from me, that for a moment I may smile, 21 Before I go whence I shall not return, To the land of darkness, and the shades of death; 22A land of gloom tenebrous,119 dense as night, Land of the death shade, where no order reigns, Where day is but a darkness visible.120 Chapter 11 1Then answered Zophar the Naamathite and said, 2A flood of words; demands it no reply? A man all lips! shall he be justified? 3Thy clamors, shall they silence men? That thou may’st thus rave on without rebuke; 4And say, my doctrine, it is pure, I’m guiltless in Thy sight. 5O were it so that God would really121 speak; And for thy silencing122 His lips unclose 6And show thee wisdom’s hidden depths,— Truth’s twofold123 form. For know it well; less than thy debt doth God exact124 of thee. 7Eloah’s secret,125 canst thou find it out? Or Shaddai’s126 perfect way canst thou explore? 8 Higher than Heaven’s height, what canst thou do? Deeper than Sheol’s depths, what canst thou know? 9Its measurement is longer than the earth, And broader than the sea. 10When He is passing by, and makes arrest, And calls to judgment, who can answer him? 11For well He knows the men of vanity; Their evil sees, though seeming not to heed.127 12Since man, vain man, has madness in his heart;128 A foal of the wild ass, so is he born. 13(But as for thee), If thou prepare thy heart, And spread thy hands (in humble prayer) before him,— 14Putting129 it far away, if sin be in thy hand, Nor letting wrong abide within thy tents,— 15 Then shalt thou lift thy face without a stain; Then shalt thou stand secure,130 with nought to dread. 16For thy sharp pain shalt thou forget, And like the passing waters, think of it no more. 17 Brighter than noon shall life131 again arise; And what is darkness132 now shall be like morn. 18 Then shalt thou be assured that there is hope; Though now ashamed,133 in peace shalt thou lie down, 19 And take thy rest with none to make afraid; Whilst many [who have scorned] shall seek thy face. 20 But as for wicked men, their eyes shall fail; Their refuge perishes; Their hope—’tis like the parting breath. Chapter 12 1Then answered Job and said: 2 Ye are the people, there’s no doubt; And wisdom dies with you. 3But I have understanding like yourselves; In nothing do I fall below your mark. Who knoweth not such, things as these? 4Sport to his friend! yes, such am I become, Though one who calls on134 God, and whom he hears; A sport, (your) sport! A man upright and true! 5 As wasted lamp135 to splendors of the proud, So is the man who stands on tottering feet; 6 Whilst quiet are the spoilers’ tents,— All confident136 the men who anger God, Into whose hands137 Eloah sends (his bounty). 7But surely ask the beasts and they will teach; The birds of heaven will make it known to thee; 8Or converse138 hold with earth, and it will speak; The fishes of the sea will tell it thee: 9Who knoweth not, by every one of these, Jehovah’s hand it is that doeth this? 10In whose hand lieth every breathing life; The spirit of all flesh—of every man. 11Doth not the ear try words, As tastes the palate food? 12So with the old is sage experience;139 With length of days doth understanding dwell. 13With God, too, there is wisdom, strength is His, Counsel to plan and never-erring140 skill. 14 Lo! He casts down; it never shall be built; He shutteth up; there is no opening. 15 The waters He withholds; the streams are dry; He sends them forth, and they lay waste the earth. 16With Him is power, eternal truth141 is His; To Him alike are known deceiver and deceived. 17’Tis He that leadeth counsellors despoiled,142 And makes the judges fools. 18’Tis He who breaks the bonds of kings, And binds their loins with cords. 19Priests too He leadeth, stripped143 (of sacred robes). The long established144 (thrones) He overthrows. 20The trusted He deprives of speech, And takes away the judgment of the old. 21On nobles doth He pour contempt, And renders weak the girdle of the strong. 22 Deep things from darkness He reveals; Tzalmaveth145, world of shadows, brings He forth to light. 23 He makes the nations grow, and then destroys; Extends their bounds, then lets them pass away. 24Chiefs of the earth, of reason he deprives, And makes them wander in a pathless waste. 25 They grope in darkness, where no light appears; He makes them stagger like a drunken man. Chapter 13 1Behold all this mine eye hath seen; Mine ear hath heard, and understood it well. 2What ye know I do also know; In nothing do I fall below you. 3For truly ’tis to Shaddai I would speak. With God to plead—this is my strong desire. 4 But ye indeed!146 forgers of lies are ye; Physicians of no value are ye all. 5O that you would be altogether still. For that would surely be your wisest way. 6 But hear my pleading now; O listen to the strivings of my lips. 7For God,147 will ye speak what is wrong? And utter specious things148 in His behalf? 8Dare ye His person to accept149? Is it for God,150 indeed, that ye contend? 9Say, is it well, that He should search you out? Or as man mocketh man, so mock ye Him? 10Sure, He will make your condemnation clear;151 If thus, in secret, partially ye deal. 11Shall not His glory fill you with alarm? His dread152 upon you fall? 12Pictures153 in ashes drawn, your maxims grave; Your strong defences are but mounds of clay. 13 Be still; let me alone;154 that I may speak,— Whatever may befall.155 14My flesh,156 why should I bear it in my teeth? My very life, why take it in my hand. 15Lo! Let Him slay me; still for Him I’ll wait;157 And still defend my ways before His face. 16Yes, my salvation shall He be; For in His presence the impure shall never come. 17Hear now, O hear my word; My declaration, hold it in your ears. 18 Behold me now; I have prepared my cause; I’m sure I can maintain my right. 19Who then is HE,158 that shall against me plead? For now if I keep silence I must die. 20Only two things do not thou unto me; And then from thine appearing I’ll not hide. 21Far off withdraw thy hand from me, Nor let thy terror fill me with alarm. 22Then call thou; I will make response; Or I will speak, and do thou answer me. 23How many are my sins—my trespasses— My errors—my transgressions? Let me know. 24Why hidest thou thy face from me?159 Why hold me for thy foe? 25A driven leaf would’st thou affright? The withered chaff pursue? 26For bitter things against me thou dost write;160 And to my youthful sins, thou makest me the161 heir. 27My feet thou puttest in the stocks, An guardest all my ways, Making thy mark162 upon my very soles; 28Whilst he163 (thus watched) in rottenness consumes; Or like a garment which the moth devours. Chapter 14 1 —––164 Man of woman born; Few are his days, and full of restlessness. 2 He comes forth like a flow’r, and is mown down; Flees165 like a passing shadow—makes no stay. 3On such a being,166 openest thou thine eye, To bring me into judgment with thyself? 4O could167 there come one pure from the impure! But there is no such one. 5If now his days are all decreed, And fixed the number of his months by thee; If thou hast set a bound he cannot pass; 6Then turn away from him and let him rest, Till like a hireling he enjoy his day. 7 For a tree there still is hope. Cut down, it springs again; Nor do its suckers fail. 8Though in the earth its root be old, Its stump all dead and168 (buried) in the dust; 9From waters inhalation will it bud, And send forth shoots like a new planted stem. 10 But man—he dies and fallen169 wastes away; Man draws his parting breath, and where is he? 11As fail the waters from the sea;170 As wastes the flood and drieth up,— 12 So man lies down to rise no more; Until the Heavens be gone, they ne’er awake, Nor start them from their sleep. [A brief pause.] 13O that in Sheol thou would’st lay me up; That thou would’st hide me till thy wrath shall turn,171— Set me a time, and then remember me. [ A musing silence.] 14Ah, is it so?172 When man dies, does he live again! Then all the days appointed me I’ll wait, Till my reviving173 come. 15Then thou wilt call, and I will answer thee; For thou wilt yearn174 towards thy handy work. 16 But now thou numberest my steps; Thou wilt not set a guard175 upon my sin; 17(For) sealed, as in a bag, is my transgression bound, And mine iniquity thou sewest176 up. [A longer interval of silence.] 18Yes177—even the mountain falling wastes away; The rock slow changes from its ancient178 place; 19The water wears the179 stones; Its overflowings sweep away the soil; So makest thou to perish human hope. 20 Thou overpow’rest180 man, and he departs; Changing his face, thou sendest him away. 21 His sons are honored, but he knows it not. They come to poverty—he heeds it not. 22By himself alone, his flesh endureth pain; By himself181 alone, his soul within him182 mourns. Chapter 15 1Then answered Eliphaz the Temanite and said, 2A wise man, shall he utter windy lore? And with a rushing tempest183 fill his soul184,— 3Contending still with speech of no avail— With words that do no good? 4Nay more, thou makest void the fear of God, Confession to Him ever holding back. 5For ’tis thy sin that rules185 thy mouth, And thou thyself dost choose the crafty tongue. 6 I judge thee not; ’tis thine own mouth condemns; Against thee thine own lips do testify. 7 Art thou the man who first was born? Before the hills wast thou brought forth? 8 Eloah’s secret counsel hast thou heard? And kept (its) wisdom186 to thyself alone? 9 Tell us—What dost thou know that we know not? What insight hast thou, we have not the same? 10 The grey haired187—yea, the very old are ours— One full of days, beyond thy father’s years. 11God’s comfortings—are they too small for thee? And speech that flows so gently188 (to thine ear)? 12 Why does thy heart189 so carry thee away? What means this quivering190 of thine eyes ? 13That thou should’st turn again thy rage191 on God, Whilst pouring from thy mouth such words192 as these? 14Say, what is mortal man that he be pure! Or one of woman born193 that he be righteous ? 15For lo, His Holy Ones He trusteth not; The very Heavens lack pureness in His sight, 16How much more man, the abhorred,194 the all defiled! Yes, man who drinketh in, like water, his iniquity. 17I’ll show thee now the truth; give heed to me ; And that which I have seen will I report;— 18What sages clearly have made known to us, And kept not back—truths from their fathers learned ; 19The men to whom alone the land was given; With whom had never mingled alien195 blood. [And thus they say.] 20“The bad man sorely travails196 all his days,— The numbered197 years that for the bandit wait.198 21A sound of terrors ever fills Ms ears; And then, when most secure, the invader199 comes. 22He has no hope from darkness to return, And for the sword, he watches200 evermore. 23For bread he wanders, saying still—O, where! A day of darkness, well he knows, is ready to his hand. 24 Anguish and trouble fill him with alarm ; They overpow’r him like a chieftain201 armed.” 25For that against the Strong,202 his hand he stretched, And proudly the Omnipotent defied— 26Running upon him with the stiffened neck, And with the thick embossments of his shield,— 27For that his face he clothed in his own fat, And built the muscle203 thick upon his loin,— 28So dwells204 he in the ruined holds, In houses uninhabited, Fast hastening205 to become mere rubbish206 heaps. 29Nor wealth he gets, nor do his means endure ; Nor shall his substance in the land extend. 30From darkness nevermore shall he escape; The scorching207 flame shall wither up his shoots; In God’s hot anger doth he pass away. 31Let him not trust in evil; he’s deceived ; For evil still shall be his recompense ; 32Before his208 time is it fulfilled, His palm no longer green ; 33As shaketh off the vine its unripe grapes, Or as the olive caste away its flower. 34For desolate the gathering of the vile, And fire devours the tents of bribery; 35Where misery is conceived,209 and mischief born; And where the inmost thought deception210 frames. Chapter 16 1Then answered Job and said: 2 Of things like these, abundance have I heard. Wretched consolers, surely, are ye all. 3Is there an end at last of windy words? Or what emboldens211 thee to answer still? 4 Thus could I, also, speak as well as you; If only your soul were in my soul’s stead, I too against you could array212 my words, Against you shake my head in scorn. 5Thus with my mouth,213 I too could strengthen you, Whilst my lip solace held you (from despair) 6Though I should speak, my grief is not assuaged; If I forbear, what (pain)214 from me departs? 7 Ah surely215 now He hath exhausted216 me. Yes, thou hast made my household217 desolate, 8And shriveled218 up my skin—a sight219 to see. My leanness (as a witness) rises up, And answers to my face. [A pause.] 9His anger rends,220 so fiercely it pursues. He gnashes at me with his teeth. It is my enemy;—on me he whets his eye. 10(See how) they gape upon me with their mouths. With scorn they smite me on the cheek; As one, against me do they fill221 their ranks. 11 Unto the evil one hath God delivered me; Into the hands of the malignant222 hath he cast223 me forth. 12 I was at ease, and he hath shattered me; Seized by the neck, and dashed224 me to the ground; Then raised me up, and set me for his mark. 13 His archers compass me about; He cleaves my reins—he spareth not; He pours my gall upon the earth. 14He breaketh me with breach on breach;225 He runs upon me like a man of war. 15I have sewed sackcloth on my skin; My horn have I defiled with dust; 16My face with weeping is inflamed; And on my eyelids rests the shade of death. 17For no wrong226 I had done; My prayer, too,—it is pure. 18Earth cover227 not my blood; Nor let my cry find place (where it may rest). [A pause.] 19Even now, behold! My witness228 in the Heavens,— Yea, my Attestor in the heights above! 20 My friends—’tis they who scorn; Whilst unto God mine eye is dropping (tears), 21That He229 himself would plead for man with God, As230 one of Adam’s sons doth for his brother plead. 22For a few years will come and go;231 And I shall go whence I shall not return. Chapter 17 1My breath is short;232 My days are quenched;233 The graves are waiting for me. 2Were it not234 that mockeries beset me round, On their sharp taunts mine eye would calmly235 rest. 3 Lay down236 now; be my surety237 with thyself. Ah! Who238 is He that gives His hand for mine! 4 (Not they). Their heart from239 insight Thou hast closed; Therefore Thou wilt not raise them (over me). 5“When one for booty240 friends betrays, His children’s eyes shall fail.” 6So, as a byword hath He set me forth, Till I become the vilest241 of the vile. [A pause of silence.] 7Mine eye is dim from grief; My moulded242 limbs are like a shadow, all. 8The upright, sure, will be amazed at this,— The innocent be roused against the vile; 9But still the righteous man holds on his way; The clean of hand still goes from strength to strength. 10 But come now, all of you; come on I pray;— Among you all no wise man can I find. [Pause]. 11My days are past, My plans asunder243 rent, My soul’s most cherished thoughts. 12For day, they give244 me night, To the face of darkness light is drawing13 near. 13 If I should hope, Lo, Sheol is my home. Yes, in the darkness have I spread my couch. 14To corruption have I said—my father thou;— My mother and my sister—to the worm. 15And where, then, is my hope? My hope, alas!245 who seeth it? 16To the gates246 of Sheol it is going down, When once it finds a resting place in247 dust. Chapter 18 1Then answered Bildad the Shuhite and said, 2How long will ye thus make of words a prey?248 First clearly understand; then let us speak. 3Why are we counted as the beasts, And held as worthless in thine eyes? 4See—in his rage, it is himself he rends. For thee shall earth be desolate? The rock move from its place? 5Yet true it holds;249 the sinner’s light is quenched; And from his fire no kindling, spark shall shine. 6The sunshine darkens in his tent; The lamp above him goeth out; 7His steps are straitened,250 once so firm; And his own counsel headlong251 casts him down. 8By his own feet he’s driven to the net; In his own chosen252 way there lies the snare. 9The gin shall seize him by the heel; The noose shall hold him fast. 10His cord lies hidden in the earth; His trap in ambush by the wayside path. 11 All round about do terrors frighten him; [At every step] they start him to his feet. 12His woe253 is hungering for its prey; A dire disease stands ready at his side;— 13 To eat254 the very partings of his skin; Yea, Death’s First Born255 his members shall devour. 14Torn from his tent, his strong security, Thus to the King of Terrors256 doth it march him on. 15Who dwell within his tent are none of his; And o’er his pleasant257 place is showered258 the sulphur-rain. 16 Beneath,—his roots dried259 up— Above,—his branch cut off.— 17His memory perished from the land,— No name now left in all the plain,— 18From light to darkness do they260 drive him forth; And chase261 him from the world; 19No child, no seed, among his people left— In all his habitations none escaped; 20 Men of the West262 stand wondering at his day; Men of the East with shuddering fear are seized. 21Yes, such the dwellings of unrighteous263 men; And such the place of him who knows not God. Chapter 19 1Then Job answered and said 2How long grieve ye my soul? And crush me with your words. 3 Ten times it is that ye have stung me thus; Devoid of shame, ye act as strangers264 to me. 4Be it so, then, that I have erred; My error lodges265 with myself. 5If still against me ye exalt yourselves, And plead against me my reproach,— 6 Then be assured that God hath cast266 me down; ’Tis He that overspreads me with His net. 7 Behold I cry of wrong, but am not heard; I cry aloud, but there is no redress. 8For He hath fenced my road; I cannot pass; And darkness doth He set o’er all my ways. 9My glory from me hath He stripped, And from my head the crown removed. 10On all sides doth He crush me; I am gone;267 And like a tree uproots He all my hope. 11Against me doth He make His anger hot, And counts me as His foe. 12Together draw His troops; At me cast up their way; Around my tent they camp. 13My brethren far away has He removed, And mine acquaintance from me are estranged. 14My kinsmen all have failed, And my familiar friends forgotten me. 15 Domestics,—maidens,—as a stranger hold me now; I am become an alien in their eyes. 16 Unto my servant do I call—he answers not; I have to supplicate him with my mouth. 17My temper268 to my wife is strange,— My yearning for the children that she bare. 18 Yes—even the very boys despise me now; They flout at me when I attempt269 to rise. 19Men of my counsel270 from me all recoil; And those I loved are turned271 against the sight; 20 My bone fast cleaving to my skin and flesh;— All shrunk272 away the covering of my teeth! 21Have pity; O have pity—ye my friends; For ’tis Eloah’s hand that toucheth273 me. 22But why, like God, should ye pursue? And not be satiated274 from my flesh? [Pause.] 23O, that my words were written now; O, that they were upon the record graved, 24With pen of iron, and of lead,— Upon the rock cut deep—a witness evermore. [A brief silence]. 25 I know that my Redeemer275 lives; And o’er my dust,276 Survivor,277 shall He stand. 26 My skin all gone, this278 [remnant] they may rend; Yet from my flesh shall I Eloah see;— 27 Shall see Him mine;— Mine eyes shall see279 Him—stranger280 now no more. (For this) with longing faints my inmost281 soul. [Pause.] 28Yes, ye shall282 say, why persecute we him? And seek283 to find in me a root284 of blame? 29Beware—Beware285—the sword. For there is wrath; yea sins (that call) the sword ;286 That ye may surely know that judgment287 is. Chapter 20 1 Then answered Zophar, the Naamathite, and said: 2To this288 my thoughts compel289 me to respond; And therefore is my haste290 within me (roused). 3 The chastening of my reproof I hear; ’Tis zeal,291 with knowledge, urges my reply. 4 Ha!292 knowest thou this—a truth of olden time, Since Adam first was placed upon the earth? 5How brief the triumph293 of the bad! The joy of the impure, how momentary! 6Yes, though his pride may mount to heaven’s height, His head reach to the cloud; 7As is his splendor,294 so his hopeless295 ruin; Who gazed upon him say—where is he gone. 8 As a dream296 he flies, and is no longer found; Like a night spectre297 is he scared away. 9The eye hath glanced298 on him—it glanceth not again; His dwelling-place beholdeth him no more. 10His children must appease299 the poor; And his own hands give back again his wealth. 11His bones are filled from sins300 in secret done, And with him in the dust must they lie down. 12Though wickedness, while in his mouth, be sweet; So that beneath his tongue he keeps it hid,— 13Sparing it long, and loth to let it go, Holding it back, still near his palate’s taste; 14 Yet in his bowels is his bread all changed; Within him, ’tis the very gall of asps. 15The wealth he swallows shall he vomit up, Yes, from his very maw shall God’s hand cast it forth. 16The venom of the viper shall he suck; The adder’s tongue shall slay him. 17On the fair rivers301 shall he never gaze,— The flowing streams of honey and of milk. 18Toil302 [wronged], before ’tis swallowed, he restores; As wealth exchanged, he has no joy of it. 19 Because303 he crushed, and helpless left, the poor; Seized304 ruthlessly a house he would not build; 20Because content, within, he never knew, Nor lets305 escape him aught of his desire— 21 (No, not a shred for his devouring greed),— Therefore it is, his good306 cannot endure. 22In the fullness of his wealth, his straits begin; When every hand of toil307 against him comes. 23 Be308 it the time to fill his greed; ’Tis then God sends on him His burning storm of wrath, Until He rains it on him in his food. 24Does he flee from the iron lance?309 The bow of brass shall pierce him through and through. 25He310 hath drawn [the sword]; forth comes it from his flesh; The gleaming weapon from his gall. He is gone.311 Terrors are over him. 26In his hid312 treasures lies all darkness hid; A self-enkindled313 fire consumes it ever more, Still feeding314 on the remnant in his tent. 27 His sins the Heavens reveal; Against him rises up the earth. 28His wealth to other lands315 departs, Like flowing waters, in His day of wrath. 29This is the bad man’s portion sent from God,— His lot appointed from the316 Mighty One. Chapter 21 1Then Job answered and said: 2O listen317 to my words; And let that be in place of your consolings. 3Bear with me, let me speak; And after I have spoken, then mock on. 4 Ah me! Is my appeal to man? Impatient then might be my soul; why not? 5Turn now,318 behold me—stand amazed, And lay your hand upon your mouth: 6’Tis when I think, that I am sore dismayed; And trembling taketh hold on all my flesh. 7 Why do the wicked live at319 all? Why grow they old, yea giant320 like in power? 8Before them—with them—firmly stands their seed;321 Their spreading offspring ever in their sight. 9Why are their houses peace, away from fear,— No scourge upon them from Eloah’s hand? 10The issue of their herds is sure;322 Their kine bring forth without mischance. 11Their little ones, like flocks, they send them out; Their sons and daughters323 mingle in the dance. 12To harp and timbrel do they raise their voice; In melodies of flutes they take delight. 13In joy unbroken324 do they spend their days; And in a moment325 to the grave go down. 14To God they say, Depart from us; No knowledge of Thy ways do we desire. 15The Almighty! who is he that we should serve him? And if we pray to him, what do we gain? [Pause.] 16But lo,326—their good is not in their own hand. The counsel of the wicked, be it far from me. [A longer silence.] 17[Yet, truth327 ye say]; how oft goes out the lamp of evil men! And comes upon them their calamity! When God, in wrath, allots them deadly328 pangs. 18 Like stubble are they then before the wind,— Like chaff the whirling tempest bears away. 19Eloah treasures up his evil for his sons;329 To him He thus repays it—he shall know. 20His own destruction shall his eyes behold; When from the wrath of Shaddai he shall drink. 21For what his pleasure330 in posterity, When sundered thus the number of his months? [Pause.] 22[Ah, how is this?]331 Shall any man teach332 God? Teach Him who judgeth things on high! 23(For see); one dieth in his perfect strength, All quiet333 and at ease. 24His breasts334 are full of milk; And moist the marrow of his bones. 25Another dies in bitterness of soul, And never tastes of good. 26 Alike in dust do both lie down; Alike o’er both the worm its covering spreads. [Pause.] 27Behold I know your thoughts,— Thoughts335 to my hurt, ye wrongfully336 maintain. 28For where’s the dwelling of the Prince, say ye,337— And where the tent of evil men’s abode? 29Have ye not asked the passers by the way? And know ye not their338 signs? 30That to the day of doom the wicked man is339 kept; To the day of mighty340 wrath are they brought forth. 31Yet who before his face declares341 his way? And who requites him (here) what he hath done? 32Still to the grave (like others) is he brought; And for him, o’er his tomb, one keepeth342 watch. 33On him, too, lightly343 press the valley clods; And after him come all in lengthened344 train, As countless numbers thus have gone before.345 [Conclusion.] 34How then console ye me? ’Tis empty breath,346 Since in your answers still remains offence.347 Chapter 22 1Then answered Eliphaz the Temanite and said:’ 2The strong348 man—can he profit God, That thereby349 he may wisely serve himself? 3Is Shaddai, then, concerned that thou art just, Or is it gain to Him that thou make pure thy way? 4For thy religion’s350 sake, will He reprove, Or go with thee to judgment’s reckoning? 5 May it not be,351 thy evil, too, is great? Thy sins beyond thy numbering? 6May it not be352 that thou for nought hast held thy brother’s pledge? Or from the naked stripped their covering? 7Or failed to give the weary drink, Or from the hungry hast withheld thy bread? 8[Hast said]353 the land is for the strong; The honorable man, he dwells therein; 9Yea widows empty hast thou sent away,— The arm hast broken of the fatherless. 10Wherefore, it may be,354 snares are round thee spread; And sudden fear alarms; 11Or darkness, that thou can’st not355 see, Or water floods that overwhelm thy356 soul. 12Lo!357 where Eloah dwells! the heaven sublime!358 Behold! the crown359 of stars! how high they are! 13 “How doth God know?” ’Tis that thy thought is360 saying: “Behind the dark araphel361 can He judge? 14 Clouds are a covering, that He cannot see; All by Himself362 on heaven’s high dome He walks.” 15Ah! wilt thou call to mind363 that way of old, Which evil men once trod; 16They who were withered364 up before their time,— Their strong foundations melted365 like a flood,— 17The men who said to God, “depart from us, For what can Shaddai do to them366?” 18When He it was who filled their house with good, That way of evil men, O be it far367 from me. 19The righteous see it and rejoice; The guiltless make a byword368 of their doom: 20 “Now is our enemy destroyed” (they say); “And their abundance hath the fire devoured.” 21 O now make friends369 with Him, and be at peace; For, in so doing, good370 shall come to thee. 22Receive instruction371 from His mouth; And treasure up His words within thy heart. 23To Shaddai turn;372 then shalt thou be restored, “When from thy tent thou hast put far the wrong. 24 Then shalt thou lay373 up gold as dust,— Yea Ophir gold like pebbles of the stream. 25 Then, too, shall Shaddai be thy precious374 ore, Thy silver from the 375 mine. 26 Then in th’ Omnipotent shall be thy joy; Yes, to Eloah shalt thou lift thy face. 27Then shalt thou pray to Him, and He will hear, And offerings thou hast vowed thou shalt perform. 28The thing decreed by thee shall firmly stand; And over all thy ways the light shall shine. 29When men look down, then shalt thou say—“aloft!376 [Look up], the meek-eyed will He raise.” 30Yes, even the377 guilty He shall save; By the pureness of thy hands shall they escape. Chapter 23 1Then answered Job and said: 2Again, to day, my plaint—rebellious378 still; The hand379 upon me heavier than my moans. 3O that I knew where I might find Him380—knew How I might come, even to His judgment seat. 4 There would I set my cause before His face; There would I fill my mouth, with arguments; 5Would know the words that He would answer me, And mark what He would say. 6 ’Gainst me would He set forth His mighty381 strength? Ah, no—not that—but He would look on me. 7A righteous one there pleads382 with Him; And from my Judge shall I be ever free. 8 Lo, to the East I go; He is not there; Toward the West, but I perceive Him not. 9To His wondrous working on the North,383 I look, but look in vain; In the void South384 He hides Himself, where nought can I behold. 10 But my most secret385 way, He knows it well; He’s trying me; I shall come forth as386 gold. 11My foot hath held His steps. His way have I observed, nor turned aside. 12 The precepts of His lips I have not shunned; More than my own behest, His counsels have I prized. 13But He is ever One;387 who turneth Him? And what His soul desires, ’tis that He does. 14The law ordained for me He now performs; And many a like decree remains with Him. 15 Therefore it is I tremble so before Him; I think of Him, and I am sore afraid. 16 For thus it is that God makes weak my heart; It is the Omnipotent amazes me. 17Not from388 the darkness am I thus cast down, Nor yet because thick darkness veils my face. Chapter 24 1How is it,389—times from God are not concealed— That they who know Him do not see His days? 2 Yes,390—land marks they remove; They seize on flocks they pasture as their own. 3 The orphan’s ass they drive away; They take the widow’s ox in pledge. 4They turn the needy from their right;391 [At sight of them] the wretched hide themselves. 5Behold them! Like the desert-roaming ass, So go they early to their work—their prey; The barren wild their bread,392 their children’s food. 6These reap his393 fodder in the field— The evil man’s—his vintage do they glean. 7 Naked they394 lodge—no rag to hide their shame; They have no covering in the cold. 8Wet from the mountain storm, All shelterless they make the rock their395 bed. 9 The others396 tear the orphan from the breast; Even from the suffering poor they take the pawn. 10Stript of their garments397 go they forth, And in their hunger do they bear the sheaf. 11The oil within their398 walls they press, And tread their flowing wine vats thirsting399 still. 12From the city400 filled with dead, the groans ascend; And shriek aloud the401 spirits of the slain; But God heeds not the dire402 enormity. 13They,403 too,—those enemies of light, Who take no knowledge of its ways, Who stay not in its trodden404 paths; 14The murderer—at the dawn405 he rises up, To slay the poor—the destitute; By night he plays the thief. 15The adulterer’s eye waits for the twilight shade. No one, says he, shall see the way I take; A masking veil406 he puts upon his face. 16Through houses in the dark the burglar digs. In covert407 do they keep by day,— All strangers to the light. 17Yes, morning408 is as death shade to them all; For (in it) they discern, each one, the terrors of the dark. 18Light as409 the bubble on the water’s face, He flees,—accursed his portion on the earth;— Nor turns he ever to the vineyard410 way. 19As drought and heat bear off the melting411 snows, So Sheol those412 who sin. 20 The womb413 (the mother’s heart) forgets him there; Whilst on him sweetly feeds414 the worm. He comes in memory no more; And broken like a tree Injustice415 lies. 21Again; the man who wrongs the barren,416 childless one, And to the widow no compassion417 shows. 22 The strong, too, by his might, he bears418 away; He riseth up; no one is sure of life. 23God lets them rest419 in their security; But still His eyes are ever on their ways. 24 They tower a little while, and straight are gone; Brought low like all,420 like all they’re gathered in; Even as the topmost ears are severed like the rest. 25Is it not so? Who then shall prove me false? Or bring to nought my words? Chapter 25 1Then answered Bildad the Shuhite, and said: 2 To Him421 belongs dominion—yea,422 and fear. ’Tis He who makes the harmony423 on high. 3The number of His armies, who can count? Or say o’er424 whom His light doth not arise? 4How then can man be just with God? Or how can he be clean, of woman born? 5Look to425. the moon; behold! she pales her; The stars, to His beholding, are not pure. 6Much less a mortal man—corruption’s426 child— The son427. of man the worm! Chapter 26 1Then answered Job and said: 2How hast thou helped the powerless? Or saved the feeble428. arm? 3How hast thou counseled the unlearned? Or truth,429 in its immensity, made known? 4Of Whom430 hast thou declaimed?431. Whose inspiration is it comes from thee? 5Where432. groan the giant433. shades, Beneath the waters and their habitants,— 6All bare before Him lies the Underworld, And deep Abaddon434 hath no covering. 7High o’er the Void, He stretcheth out the435 North; And over436 nothing hangs the world437 in space. 8He binds the waters in his cloud; Nor is it rent beneath their weight. 9He closes438 firm the presence of His throne, And o’er it spreads His cloud. 10A circle439 marks He on the water’s face, Unto the bound where light with darkness blends. 11Heaven’s pillars rock;440 They stand aghast at His441 rebuke. 12So by His strength He quells442 the [raging] sea, And by His wisdom smites its threatening down. 13By His spirit hath He made the heavens fair;443 The serpent swift (on high) His hand hath formed. 14 Lo, these, the endings444 of His ways; ’Tis but a whisper445 word we hear of Him; His thunder-power, then, who can comprehend? Chapter 27 1Then Job again took up his chant and said. 2As liveth God who turns446 away my plea,— The Almighty One who hath distressed my soul,— 3So long447 as breath remains to me, And in my nostrils dwells Eloah’s448 life,— 4These lips of mine shall never say the wrong, My tongue shall never murmur449 what is false. 5Away450 the thought; I’ll not confess451 to you; Nor mine integrity, until my latest breath,452 renounce. 6My right I hold;453 I will not let it go; My heart shall not reproach me454 while I live. 7Mine enemy; be he the wicked one; And mine accuser,455—he the unjust. 8For what the false456 man’s hope that he should457 gain, When once Eloah redemands458 his soul? 9Will God regard his cry When trouble comes? 10Is he the man who in the Almighty459 joys? Or who at all times on Eloah calls? 11I’ll teach you now by God’s own hand; His dealings460 I will not keep back from you. 12 Behold, ye all have seen the461 sight; Why then speak ye such utter vanity? 13This is the bad man’s dole assigned462 by God, The robber’s heritage from Shaddai’s hand: 14’Tis for the sword his children multiply; His offspring are not satisfied with bread. 15Those that remain are buried463 all in death; His widows464 do not weep. 16Though silver like the dust he heaps, And raiment common as the clay465 provides; 17He may prepare, the just shall put it on; His treasures shall the innocent divide. 18His house he buildeth like466 the moth. Or like the vineyard booth the watcher makes. 19 Rich467 lies he down, never to sleep468 again; Once opens469 he the eye, and is no more. 20Terrors o’ertake470 him like a flood; A tempest steals him in the night away. 21 The east wind lifts him up, and he is gone. Tornado like,471it hurls him from his place. 22 God sends (his bolt)472 upon him—spares him not; Though gladly from His hand would he escape. 23Men clap their hands at him; At sight of his abode473 they hiss in scorn. Chapter 28 1Yes474—truly—for the silver there’s a vein, A place for gold which they refine. 2The iron from the dust is brought, And copper from the475 molten ore. 3 To (nature’s) darkness man476 is setting477 bounds; Unto the end478 he searcheth479 every things.— The stones of480 darkness and the shade of death. 4 Breaks from the settler’s481 view the deep ravine; And there, forgotten482 of the foot-worn path, They let them down483,—from men they roam afar. 5Earth’s surface (they explore) whence comes forth breads,— Its lowest depths, where it seems484 turned to fire; 6Its stones the place485 of sapphire gems, Where lie the glebes of gold. 7A path486 the bird of prey hath never known, Nor on it glanced the vulture’s piercing sight, 8Where the wild beast hath never trod, Nor roaring schachal487 ever passed it by. 9 Against the granite488 sends he forth his hand; He overturns489 the mountains from, their base. 10He cutteth channels in the rocks; His eye beholdeth every precious thing. 11From weeping bindeth he the streams,490 The deeply hidden brings he forth to light. 12But Wisdom,—where shall it be found? And where the place of clear intelligence?491 13A mortal knoweth not its price; Among the living492 is it never found. 14The Deep493 saith—“not in me;” The Sea,—“it dwelleth494 not with me.” 15For it the treasured495 gold shall not be given, Nor massive496 silver for its price be weighed. 16With Ophir bars it never can be bought; Nor with the onyx, nor the sapphire gem. 17The glass with gold adorned gives not its price, Nor its exchange, the rarest jewelry. 18Corals and crystals name them not; The wealth of Wisdom far excelleth pearls. 19With it the topaz gem of Cush holds no compare No stamp of purest gold can give its estimate. 20But Wisdom,—whence then, doth it come? And where this place of clear intelligence? 21 So hidden from the eyes of all that live; Veiled eyen to birds497 (that gaze) from heaven’s height? 22 Death498 and Abaddon say: “A rumor of it hath but reached our ears.” 23 God understands its way; He knows its place. 24For He to earth’s remotest ends looks forth, And under all the heavens, all beholds. 25’Twas when He gave the wind499 its weight, And fixed the waters in their measurement; 26When for the rain He made a500 law, A way501 appointed for the thunder flash; 27’Twas then He saw502,—declared it [good], And built it firm,503 and made its504 testings sure. 28 But505 unto man He saith: [“Thy] wisdom; Lo, it is to fear the Lord; To fly from evil, (thine) intelligence.” Chapter 29 1Then again506 Job lifted up his chant and said: 2O that it were with me as in the moons of old; As in the days when o’er me still Eloah watched; 3When shone His507 lamp above my head, And when through darkness by His light I walked; 4As in my autumn days; When God’s near presence508 in my tent abode; 5 Whilst still the Almighty was my509 stay; Around me still my children510 in their youth. 6When with the flowing511 milk my feet I bathed; And streams of oil the rock poured forth for me. 7When up the city’s way, forth512 from my gate, I went, And in the place of concourse fixed my seat; 8The young men saw me, and retired; The elders rose—stood up. 9The leaders checked their words; And laid their hands upon their mouths. 10The men of note, their voice was513 hushed; Their tongue suspended to the palate clave. 11Then, too, there was an ear that heard514 and blessed, An eye that saw and testified, 12That515 I had saved the poor man when he cried, The fatherless, the one who had no friend. 13Thus on me came516 the blessing of the lost; The widow’s heart I made to sing for joy. 14I put517 on justices,—it became my robe— As mantle518 and as diadem, my right. 15 Eyes to the blind was I— Feet to the lame. 16A father to the poor; The cause I knew519 not, I would search520 it out, 17So would I break the fangs of evil521 men, And from their very teeth would dash the prey. 18Then said I, “in my nest shall I expire, And like the palm tree522 multiply my days; 19My root laid open to the water’s breath, And all night long the dew upon my branch; 20My glory constant523 with me—still renewed, And in my hand my bow forever524 green.”, 21To me men listened—waited eagerly; Were silent at my counseling. 22After my word, they answered525 not again; For on them would my speech be dropping still. 23Yes, they would wait as men do wait for526 rain, And open wide their mouths, as for the latter rain. 24That I should mock527 them they would not believe, Nor make to fall the brightness of my face. 25’Twas thus their way I chose,528 and sat their head. As king amidst the multitude529 I dwelt,— Among the mourners as a comforter. Chapter 30 [Scene: The Border of the Desert. See Exc. 10.] 1And now they mock me; younger men than I, Whose fathers I disdained, To set them with the dogs that watched my flock. 2For what to me their strength of hand, In whom (the hope) of ripened manhood530fails? 2Through want and hunger like the arid531 rock, These vagrants532 from the land of533 drought— Of old time534 waste and wild,— 4Who in the jungles pluck the acrid535 herb; The roots of juniper536 their food. 5 From human concourse537 are they driven forth; Men shout against them as against a thief; 6Within the gloomy gorge538 their dwelling-place; In holes of earth,539 amid the hollow rocks. 7Between the desert shrubs they bray;540 Under the brambles do they herd541 like beasts. 8Children of folly, sons542 of nameless sires, With scourgings543 are they driven from the land. 9And now their song have I become, Their ribald word544 of scorn. 10 They view me with abhorrence—stand aloof— Yet from my face their spittle545 hold not back. 11 since He hath loosed546 my girdle—humbled me— They, too, against me come with unchecked547 rein. 12At my right hand they rise, this beastly brood; My feet they thrust aside; Against me cast they up their deadly548 ways. 13They mar my549 path; As though ’twere gain to them,550 they seek my hurt, With none to help551 (the mischief all their own). 14 Like a wide fracture in a552 wall they come; Beneath the desolation roll they on. [Pause.] 15All turned553 against me—terrors everywhere; My dignity it scatters like the wind; Gone as a cloud is my prosperity. 16And now my very554 life is poured out; The days of my affliction hold555 me fast. 17By night my every bono is pierced556 above; My throbbing nerves557 (within me) never sleep. 18 By great exertion is my garment558 changed; Close as my tunic’s mouth it girts me round. 19Into the mire, His hand hath cast me559 down. To dust and ashes is my semblance560 turned. 20 I call to Thee—Thou answerest not; Before Thee do I stand—Thine eye beholds; 21 But Thou art turned relentless (to my prayer); Thou art against me with Thy mighty hand. 22Thou liftest me upon the wind to ride; As in my very being561 Thou dissolvest me. 23I know that Thou wilt turn me back562 to death, The assembly house563 ordained for all that live. 24Ah! Prayer is nought,564 when He sends forth the hand; In each565 man’s doom, of what avail their cry? 25Have I not wept566 for him whose life is hard? Has not my very soul grieved567 for the poor? 26But when I looked for good, then evil came;568 When I expected light, then darkness came. 27My very bowels boil, 569they’re never still; The days of pain have overtaken me. 28Mourning I go,570 no sunlight (on my way). In the assembly do I rise; I cry aloud. 29Brother am I to howling desert571 dogs, Companion to the owls. 30My skin is black above;572 My bones are dried with heat. 31My harp,573 to mourning is it turned; My organ like the tones of those who weep. Chapter 31 1Yes,574 I did make a covenant for575 mine eyes; How576 then could I upon a virgin gaze? 2What portion of Eloah from above, What heritage [could I expect577] from Shaddai in the heights? 3Does not a woe await the evil man? A vengeance strange,578 to malefactors due? 4Does He not see my course of life, And number all my steps? 5If I have walked in ways579 of vanity, Or if my foot hath hasted to deceit,— 6So weigh580 me God in scales of righteousness And know Eloah mine integrity. 7If from the path my step hath turned aside, Or soul hath strayed581 submissive to mine eyes, Or aught of blemish to my hand hath cleaved, 8Then let me sow, and let another reap, And let my plantings all be rooted up. 9By582 woman if my heart hath been seduced, Or at my neighbor’s door if, I have watched, 10Then let my wife for others grind;583 Let others humble584 her. 11For that were deed of foul intent585,— A sin demanding sentence from the Judge. 12A fire586 consuming to the lowest587 hell, And killing588 all my increase at the root. 13My serf,589 or handmaid, if I spurned590 their right, When their complaint before591 me they have laid, 14What could I do when God to judgment592 rises? When He makes search, what could I answer him? 15Who in the womb made me, made He not him? And from one593 common mother formed us both? 16From poor men’s want,594 if I have kept595 aloof, Or caused the widows’ eyes to fail596,— 17If I have eaten by myself alone, And from my crust the orphan had no share, 18[No—like a father, from my youth, he made597 me his support, And from my earliest dawn598 of life was I to her a guide,] 19If e’er I saw599 the perishing with nought to cover him, Or any lack of raiment to the poor, 20His very loins, if they have blessed me not, When600 from my lambs’ fleece he hath felt the warmth, 21If o’er the orphan I have stretched my hand, When at the gate601 I saw my helper near,— 22Then fall my shoulder from its blade, And let my arm be broken from the bone. 23 For God’s destruction would have been my fear; Before His majesty I could not stand. 24If I have made the gold my confidence, Or to the coined602 gold said, thou art my trust; 25If I rejoiced603 because my wealth was great, Or that my604 hand had gotten mighty store; 26If e’er I saw605 the sunlight when it shone, The moon in glory as it walked above, 27And then my soul was silently enticed, And hand (in adoration)606 touched my mouth; 28Even that607 would be a sin for vengeance callings, For then had I been false to God above.608 29If in my foe’s calamity I joyed, Or lifted up myself when ill befell him, 30(No, no609—I suffered not my month to sin, To ask a malediction on his life); 31If men of mine own household have not said, “O tell us one not sated from his meat, 32(The610 stranger never lodged without; My doors I opened to the traveler”); 33If I like Adam mine offences hid, My sin concealing in my secret breast, 34Because I feared the rabble multitude, Or scorn of families611 affrighted me, So that I kept my place and went not forth— 35 (O had I one to hear me now; Behold my sign612—let Shaddai answer me; Mine adversary—let him write613 his charge. 36Would I not on my shoulder614 take it up, And bind it to me as my crown? 37The number of my steps615 would I declare, Yes, as a prince, would I draw nigh to him.) 38Against me, if my land hath cried,616 And all its furrows wept,— 39If I have eaten of its strength for nought, Or made its toilers pant617 away their life;— 40Instead of wheat let there come forth the thorn, And noxious weeds in place of barley grow; Job’s words are ended, 618 [he protests no more]. Chapter 32 1So these three men ceased from answering Job because he was wise in his own 2eyes. Then was aroused the zeal of Elihu,619 son of Barachel the Buzite, of the family of Ram.620 Against Job was his zeal aroused because he accounted himself 3more621 just than God. And against his three friends was his zeal kindled, 4because they had found no answer, and yet had condemned Job. Now Elihu 5had waited till Job had spoken, because they were older than he. And Elihu saw that there was no answer in the mouth of the three men, and his zeal was 6kindled. Then answered Elihu, the son of Barachel the Buzite, and said: I am but young in years, And ye are very old. It was for this I shrunk622 away, And feared to show you what I thought. 7For days should speak, I said, And multitude of years should wisdom teach. 8But surely there’s a623 spirit dwells in man, ’Tis Shaddai’s breath that gives intelligence. 9 Not always wise, the men of many624 years; Elders there are who fail to know the right. 10For this I said: “O listen now to me, Let me, too, show my knowledge, even me.” 625 11Lo! I have waited while ye spake; To all your reasonings have I given 626 heed, Whilst627 ye were trying words. 12Yes, unto you with earnest thought I look, And lo, there’s no one that convinces Job,— No one of you who truly answers him, 13Beware628 of sayings, we have wisdom629 found; (Know ye) ’tis God that crushes him, not man. 14At me he hath not marshalled[630] words, Nor with your speeches will I answer him. 15 All broken down they fail to make reply; (Some power) hath taken631 all their words away. 16And still I waited though632 they did not speak, But silent stood, 633 and offered no reply. 17 I too634 would answer I would bear my part; Let me, too, show my thought. 18For I am filled with words; The spirit in my breast635 constraineth me. 19 My heart636 is full, as with unvented wine; Like vessels new that are about to burst. 20 Yes, I would speak637 that I may find relief— Open my lips, and give it utterance. 21O let me not regard the face of man; To no one let me flattering titles638 give. 22I know not how to flatter; were it so, Then would my Maker take me soon away. Chapter 33 1And now639, O Job, but listen to my speech.— Thine ear attentive to my every word. 2Behold I have unbarred640 my month; My tongue gives utterance641 distinct. 3My words—they are my soul’s sincerity;642 The truth I know, my lips do purely643 speak. 4God’s spirit made me man; [644] ’Twas Shaddai’s breath that gave me life. 5 If thou canst do it answer me; Array645 thy words against me, take thy stand, 6To God646 belongs my beings, like 647thine own; And I, too, was divided648 from the clay. 7Behold, my terror shall not frighten thee, Nor heavy shall my hand649 upon thee press. 8But surely thou hast spoken in mine ears; The sound of words I hear [they seem to say]: 9 “A man without transgression—pure am I; Yes, I am clean650—I have no sin. 10 Against me, Lo He seeketh grounds651 of strife; He counts me as his foe; 11My feet He putteth in the stocks, And watcheth all my, ways.” 12Behold, in this, I answer thee, thou art not just; For know, Eloah is too652 great for man. 13O why against Him dost thou make complaint, That by no word of His653 he answereth? 14 For God does speak—He speaketh once[654]— Again, again—though man regard it not; 15In dreams, in visions of the night, In slumberings on the bed; When falls on men the overwhelming655 sleep. 16Then opens He their ear, And seals the warning given; 17To Make656 man put away his deed, To hide from man657 the way of pride. 18That from the pit He may keep back his soul, His life from passing on the spear. 19With anguish is he chastened on his bed— His every658 bone—a never-ceasing pain; 20So that his very life659 abhorreth bread, His appetite660 rejects the once[661] -loved food. 21His flesh, from sight, it wastes away; His bones laid bare, before concealed662 from view. 22Unto perdition663 draweth nigh his soul; His life awaits the messengers of664 death. 23And is there then an angel665 on his side,— The interceding one,—of thousands chief,— To make it known to man, 666 His righteousness; 24 So does He show him grace, and say: “Deliver him from going down to death; A ransom667 I have found.” 25Moist as in childhood668 grows his flesh again, And to his youthful day does he return. 26He prays to God and God accepts his prayer, To let him see His face with joy, And thus give back to man his righteousness.669 27It is his song670 to men, and thus it says: “I sinned, I made my way perverse, 671 And it was not requited672 me; 28My soul hath He redeemed from passing to the grave, My life that it may yet behold the light.” 29Behold! in all these ways, so dealeth God, Time after time, 673 and times again, with man; 30His soul to rescue from the grave, That it may joy674 in light,—the light of those who live. 31Attend, O Job, give ear to me; Be still675 that I may speak. 32 If thou hast words, then answer me; Speak out; my wish is thy defence. 33If not, then give to me thine ear; Be still, if I may wisely counsel thee. Chapter 34 1And Elihu continued his reply and said: 2 Hear, O ye wise, my words; Ye knowing ones give me your ear. 3It is the ear that trieth speech, As tastes the palate676 food. 4Let us then make the right our choice,[677] And aim to know between ns what is good. 5 For Job saith, “I am innocent; ’Tis God who puts away my cause. 6 Against my right shall I speak what is false? Sore is my wound, but from no crime of mine.” 7Where is the mighty678 man like Job? Who like the water drinketh scorning down; 8Who679 joins the malefactor’s band, And walks the way of wicked men. 9For he has said: “It does no good to man, That he should take delight in God.” 10 To this680, ye wise of heart, my answer hear: Away the thought; 681 O far be God from wickedness; O far be evil from the Almighty One. 11For sure, the work of man, to him will He requite, And make him find according to his way. 12Yea, verily, 682 God will not do the wrong; The Almighty One cannot pervert the right. 13Who gave683 to Him the charge of earth, And on it built the world? 14Should He think only of Himself, [684]— His breath and spirit (from the world) withdraw,— 15All flesh together would expire, [685] And man go back to dust. 16O could’st thou see it! 686 list to this, Give ear unto my words. 17A hater of the right; does he (the world) restrain? [687] The Just, the Mighty—Him shalt thou condemn? 688 18Even to a king shall one say Belial? [689] To (earthly) powers, O wickedness? 19There’s One who favors not the face of kings, Who knoweth not the rich before the poor; For His own hands did make them all alike. 20So suddenly they die (these mighty ones); At midnight rage the people—rush690 they on— And take away the strong; ’tis by no (human) hand. 21 For sure His eyes are on the ways of men; He seeth all their steps. 22No darkness691 is there, yea, no shade of death, Where men of evil deeds can hide themselves. 23He needeth692 not repeated scrutiny, When man to God in judgment comes. 24He breaks the strong, in ways we cannot trace; 693 And setteth others in their stead. 25 To this end knoweth He their works; He overturns them in the694 night—they’re crushed. 26[Again]—He smites the wicked as they695 stand, In open place, where all behold the sight. 27It is for this, because they turned aside, And disregarded all His ways; 28To bring before His696 face the poor man’s cry, That He should hear the plaint of the oppressed. 29When He gives quiet, who can then697 disturb? Or who can trace Him, when He hides his face, Whether towards a nation or a man? 30Whether against698 the ruling of the vile, Or those who of the people make699 a prey? 31 For O had he but said700 to God: “I bear it.—I will not offend; 32Beyond what I behold, O teach thou me; Have I done evil, I will do no more.” 33On thine own terms,701 shall He requite [and say], “As thou dost spurn or choose [so be it], not as702 I?” 34Let men of understanding say,— Or any strong and wise703 who hears me now. 35Job speaks in ignorance, And without understanding are his words. 36O would that Job were proved to the extreme, For his replies like those of evil men. 37 For sure he adds rebellion to his sin; Among us in defiance claps his hands, And still at God doth multiply his words. Chapter 35 1And Elihu704 answered and said: 2 Dost thou hold this for right? Thou said’st, I am more just than God. 3 Yes—thou705 dost say it: “what the gain to thee?” What profit have I, more than from my sin?” 4I answer thee; And thy companions706 who take part with thee; 5 Look to the heavens and see; Behold the skies so high above thy head. 6 If thou hast sinned, what doest707 thou to Him? If many are thy sins, what doest thou to Him? 7 If thou art just, what givest thou to Him? What profit from thy hand does He receive? 8 To one just like thyself pertains thy wrong; Unto the son of man708 thy righteousness. 9 “From hosts of men oppressed709 the cries resound;” [So sayest thou710]; “they groan beneath the tyrant’s arm.” 10But no one saith,711 “where is my maker God; Who in the night712 time giveth songs713 of praise? 11Who teacheth us beyond714 the beasts of earth, And makes us wiser than the birds of heaven.” 12Thus715 is it that He hears not when they cry By reason of the pride of evil men. 13For God will not hear vanity; Nor will the Almighty hold it in regard. 14Yes, even716 when thou sayest, thou seest Him not, There is judgment still before Him—therefore wait. 15But now, because His anger visits717 not, Nor strictly718 marks wide-spread719 iniquity, 16Job fills his mouth with vanity, And without knowledge multiplieth words. Chapter 36 1Then Elihu continued and said: 2A moment wait720 that I may show thee still, That there are words for721 God. 3 Unto the Far722 will I lift up my thought; ’Tis to my Maker723 I ascribe the right. 4 Indeed, there is no dissembling in my word; It is the all-knowing One724 that deals with thee. 5 Lo—God is great,725 but nought does He726 despise; Great in the power of His intelligence. 6He will not “let the wicked727 live;” And justice will He render to the poor. 7His eye He takes not728 from the righteous man; With kings upon the throne, He makes them sit in glory;729 they are raised on high. 8Again, when bound in iron chains,730 And held in sorrow’s bands, 9Then showeth He to them what they have done, Their oversteppings,731 how they’ve walked in pride. 10Thus openeth He their ear to discipline, And warns them that from evil they turn732 back. 11If they will listen and obey, Then shall they spend their days in good, Their years in joyfulness. 12If they hear not, they perish by the sword, And without knowledge733 shall, they yield their breath. 13 But those impure734 in heart, they treasure wrath; Such cry not735 when He bindeth them. 14Their very soul dies736 in them in their youth; Their life, it is a living with the737 vile. 15Yet in his suffering738 saveth He the poor; In straitening openeth He their ear. 16Thus thee, too, would He draw739 from trouble’s mouth, To a broad place,740 no straitening underneath, With richest food741 the spreading742 of thy board. 17 But hast thou743 filled the judgment of the bad; Judgment and Justice will lay hold on thee. 18For there is wrath;744 see lest it stir thee up against the blow;745 Then a great ransom may not turn thy746 scale. 19Thy wealth747 its price! no treasure here avails Nor all the powers748 of might. 20O long not for the749 night,— The going up of nations in their place. 21Take heed—turn not thy face750 to sin, For this thou choosest751 more than suffering. 22Lo God exalteth by His power. Who is a teacher like to Him? 23Who is it that assigns752 to Him His way? Or who can say to Him, Thou doest wrong? 24Remember that thou magnify His work, Which men so celebrate. 25With wonder gaze they753 on it, Adam’s race, And every man754 beholds it from afar. 26 Lo God is great,755 we know Him not; Unsearchable the number of His years. 27 For He it is who draws756 the water drops; Whence they distil to rain in place of757 mist; 28Even that with which the heavens758 flow down, And drop on man abundantly. 29Is there759 who understands the floatings760 of the cloud, The thunderings761 of His canopy? 30Behold, upon it762 spreadeth He the light, Whilst darkening763 the sea’s profoundest depths. 31(Yet, ’tis by these that He the nations rules, And giveth food in rich supply). 32O’er either764 hand the lightning doth He765 wrap, And giveth it commandment where766 to strike. 33Of this the767 crashing roar768 makes quick report, While frightened herds announce the ascending769 flame. Chapter 37 1At such a sight,770 with shuddering fear my heart Leaps wildly771 from its place. 2Hear ye, O hear the roaring772 of His voice, The deep reverberation773 from His mouth; 3As under all the heavens He sends774 it forth,— His lightning to the edges775 of the earth. 4Then after it resounds a voice, The glorious voice776 with which He thundereth. One cannot trace777 them when their sound is heard. 5 Yes, with His voice778 God thunders marvellously; Great things does He; we understand Him not. 6 For to the snow He saith, be thou779 upon the earth; Thus also to the pouring780 rain, His mighty781 flooding rain. 7The hand of every man He sealeth782 up; That all may know—all men whom He has783 made. 8Then go the beasts,784 each to his hiding place; And in their dens abide. 9From the dark785 South proceeds the786 sweeping storm, From the Mezarim787 comes the chilling blast. 10From God’s own breath the hoar frost788 is congealed; By it the water’s breadth is firmly789 bound. 11Through drenching790 rain the dense cloud He exhausts, The thin light-breaking791 cloud He scattereth. 12In circling792 changes is it thus transformed,793 By His wise laws,794 that they may execute All His commands o’er all the sphere of795 earth; 13Whether as punishment, or for His land, Or in His mercy He appointeth796 it. 14O Job! give ear to this; Be still and contemplate God’s wondrous works. 15Knowest thou how over these Eloah laid His laws, Or from the cloudy darkness797 streams the light? 16Knowest thou the poisings798 of the cloud, The wondrous works of Him whose knowledge has no bound? 17(Or how it is) what time thy robes are warm; When from the South the land in sultry799 stillness rests? 18Dost thou with Him spread out the skies So strong—so like800 a molten mirror smooth? 19 O teach us what to say! We cannot speak aright801,—so dark it grows.802 20Ah, is it told803 to Him that I am speaking! Has one so said?804 take care lest he be swallowed up. 21And now the lightning805 they no longer see,— That splendor806 in the clouds;807 The wind has passed and made them clear. 22 From the North808 it comes, a golden809 sheen; O, with Eloah there is awful majesty! 23The Almighty One! we cannot find Him out; So vast His power! So full of truth and right; He’ll not810 oppress. 24For this do men hold Him in reverence; For He regardeth not the wise of heart.811 Chapter 38 1Then Jehovah answered Job out of the whirlwind;812 and He said: 2Who is it thus, by words makes counsel813 dark? Not knowing814 what he says? 3 Now like a strong815 man gird thee up thy loins; ’Tis I who ask thee; show me what thou knowest. 4 Say, where wast thou when earth’s deep base I laid? Declare it if thy science816 goes so far. 5Who fixed its measurements, that thou817 should’st know; Or on it stretched the line? 6On what were its foundations sunk? Who laid its corner-stone? 7When morning stars in chorus818 sang; And cried aloud for joy, the sons of God. 8Or who shut up the sea with doors, When it gushed forth—when from the womb it came? 9What time I made its raiment of the cloud, The dark araphel819 for its swaddling band? 10When I broke820 over it my law, And set its bars and doors? 11And said, thus far, no farther, shalt thou come; And here it stops821—the swelling of thy waves? 12Since thou wast born, hast thou the morn commanded, Or made the day spring know its place? 13To reach the utmost limits822 of the earth, When from its face the wicked flee823 dismayed? 14Transformed824 like clay beneath825 the seal, All things stand forth a fair826 embroidered robe; 15Whilst from the wicked is their light827 withheld, And broken the uplifted828 arm. 16To the fountains of the sea hast thou gone down? Or walked the abysmal829 depths? 17The gates of death, have they been shown830 to thee? The realm of831 shades, its entrance hast thou seen? 18 Or even832 the breadth of earth hast thou surveyed? Say, if thou knowest it833 all. 19The way,—where is it, to light’s dwelling834 place? And darkness,835 where the place of its abode? 20That thou should’st take it to its836 bounds, Or know the way that leadeth to its837 house? 21Thou know!838 It must be that thou then wast born, And great the number of thy years. 22The treasures of the snow hast thou839 approached? Or seen the store-house of the hail? 23Which for the time of trouble I reserve,840 The day when hosts draw near841 in battle strife. 24Where is the way by which the lightning842 parts?843 How drives844 the rushing tempest845 o’er the land? 25Who made a channel for the swelling flood? A way appointed846 for the thunder flash?— 26To make it rain on lands where no one dwells, Upon the desert, uninhabited? 27To irrigate847 the regions wild and waste, As well848 as cause to spring the budding grass. 28Is there a father849 to the rain? The drops of dew, who hath begotten850 them? 29 Out of whose womb came forth the ice? Heaven’s hoar frost, who hath851 gendered it? 30As by a stone852 the streams are hid from sight, And firmly bound853 the faces of the deep. 31Canst thou together bind the clustering854 Pleiades? Or loose Orion’s bands? 32Canst thou lead forth Mazzaroth855 in its times, Or guide the ways of Arctos856 with her sons? 33The statutes of the heavens knowest thou? Their ruling857 in the earth canst thou dispose? 34To the clouds canst thou lift up thy voice, That floods of rain may cover thee? 35Lightnings canst thou send forth, that they should go, And say, Behold us! Here we are? 36Who hath put wisdom in the inward858 parts? Or who hath given discernment to the859 sense? 37Who, by his wisdom, rules860 the clouds? Or who inclines861 the vessels of the skies? 38When dust becomes a molten mass, And clods together cleave? 39For the lioness dost thou provide the prey, Or still the craving of her young? 40When in their wonted lairs they lay them down, Or in the jungle thickets lie in wait. 41Who for the raven maketh sure its prey, meat, When unto God her children cry, And wander862 without food? Chapter 39 1The goats that climb the rock, knowest thou their bearing time? Or dost thou mark it, how the hinds bring863 forth? 2The months they fill, is this thy864 numbering? Their hour of travail, is it known to thee? 3They bow themselves, their offspring cleave865 the womb; Their sorrows866 they cast forth. 4Strong are their young as on the plains867 they grow, And wander from them to return no more. 5Who sent the wild ass free? Or loosed the Zebra’s868 bands? 6Whose home the desert I have made, The salt and barren waste his haunts. 7’Tis sport to him the city’s noise; The driver’s ringing shouts, he hears them not. 8 The mountain range his pasture ground; There roams869 he searching every blade870 of grass. 9The Oryx,871 will he be thy willing872 slave? Or in thy stall contented make his home? 10As in a furrow canst thou bind his cord? To plane873 the valleys will he follow thee? 11Ah, trust him ! wilt thou? for his strength is great! Or leave to him the produce of thy toil? 12Canst thou be sure he will bring home thy seed? Or gather it to form thy threshing floor? 13The Ostrich874 wing that flaps so joyously! Is it the feathered pinion of the stork?875 14Nay876—she it is that leaves her eggs to earth, And warms them in the dust, 15Forgetting that the foot may crush,— The roaming beast may trample them. 16Hard877 is she to her young, as though not hers; In vain her labor since she has no fear. 17For God hath made her mindless,878 void of thought, No share of knowledge hath he given her. 18But when on high she boldly lifts879 herself, The horse and horseman both alike she scorns. 19 To the war-horse gavest thou his strength? Didst thou with thunder880 clothe his neck? 20 Or like the locust canst thou make him bound? There is glory881 in his nostrils—terror there. 21He paws the plain, exulting in his might; And thus he goes to meet the armed882 host. 22He mocks at fear, at panics883 undismayed, He turns not back in presence of the sword. 23Against him884 rings the quiver (of the foe), The glittering lance and spear. 24 With rage and trembling swallows885 he the earth; ’Tis hard886 to hold him in when trumpets sound. 25 At every blast he says—aha—aha. Afar off snuffeth he the fight, The chieftains’ thunder and the shout of war. 26From thine instruction soars aloft887 the hawk, And for the land of Teman spreads her wings? 27Is it at thy command the eagle mounts, To make his nest on high? 28The rock his dwelling; there he builds his home, The cliff’s sharp tooth, the castle’s battlement. 29From thence his piercing888 eye looks out for food, And sees it from afar. 30’Tis there his young ones suck889 the blood, Whilst where the slain are lying, there is he. Chapter 40 1And Jehovah answered890 Job from the whirlwind and said: 2 As censurer,891 with the Omnipotent to strive! Contender with Eloah! let him answer it. 3 And Job answered892 Jehovah and said: 4Lo I am vile,893 what shall I answer thee? My hand upon my mouth I lay. 5 Once have I spoken—I cannot reply— Yea twice,894 but I will add no more. 6 Then Jehovah answered Job out of the storm-cloud and said: 7 Now like a strong man gird thy loins; ’Tis I who ask thee; tell me what thou knowest. 8 Wilt thou annul my right? Condemn me that thou may’st be justified? 9Hast thou an arm like God? Or canst thou thunder with a voice like Him? 10Put on thee now thy glory and thy pride; With majesty and beauty deck thyself. 11Then send abroad thy o’erflowing wrath; And look on every proud one,—bring him low. 12 Behold the lofty895—humble him; Tread down the wicked in their896 place. 13Together hide them in the dust,— Their faces in the darkness897 bind; 14Then, too, will I confess898 to thee, Thine own right hand can save. 15Behold Behemoth899 now, Whom I have made with thee; Just like the peaceful ox he eateth900 grass. 16Behold, what might is in his loins; The muscles of his belly,901—there his strength. 17Like to a cedar902 waveth he his tail, Whilst woven firm the sinews of his903 thighs. 18His bones904 are tubes of brass, His limbs like iron bars. 19 Chief is he of the ways of God; It is his Maker who brings nigh905 His sword; 20 And yet906 the hills his pasturage; Whilst round him sport the species of the plain. 21Beneath the lote trees lies he down to rest, In covert of the reed—the (cooling) fen. 22They weave for him his shade, Whilst round him spread the willows of the stream. 23 Lo, the flood swells, he startles not; Fearless although a907 Jordan dash against his mouth. 24It is as though he took it with his908 eyes, As with his nose he pierceth through the nets. Chapter 41 1With, a hook canst thou draw out Leviathan, Or with a line thou lettest down, his909 tongue? 2A rush branch through his nostrils canst thou place? Or with the thorny spine bore through his nose? 3Will he make many prayers to thee? Or will he say soft things to thee? 4Or with thee make a covenant, That thou should’st take him for thy slave forever? 5Wilt thou disport with him as with a bird? Or bind him (as a plaything) for thy maidens 6The caravans,910 will they make trade for him? And then retail911 him to the912 Canaanites? 7With barbed irons canst thou fill his skin? His head with fishing913 spears? 8 Upon him lay thy hand; Think of the battle—do no more. 9 Behold the hope (of taking him) is vain; Yea at the very sight is one cast down. 10 There is none so desperate to stir914 him up; Before Me then (his915 Maker) who shall stand? 11 Who hath first given, that I should him repay? Since every thing beneath the heavens is mine? 12But I must not in silence916 pass his limbs, His strength, his well-proportioned917 build. 13His coat of mail,918 who hath revealed its front? The doubling of his jaws,919 who enters there? 14The doors that shut his face, who opens them? The circuits of his teeth—how920 terrible! 15 ’Tis a proud sight,921 the grooves that form his shield; Each one a seal, shut close and firmly bound. 16So near do they to one another join, The very wind between them cannot pass. 17 Each to his fellow cleaves; Firmly they hold; there is no parting them. 18His sneezings922 sparkle with the light; His eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn. 19Forth from his mouth go burning923 lamps, And sparks of fire set924 free. 20Out of his nostrils goeth forth a smoke; As from a caldron blown, or seething925 pot. 21His breath enkindleth coals; A tongue926 of flame seems issuing from his mouth. 22 Strength dwelleth ever in his neck; Before him (as a courier) terror927 runs; 23 His fleshy folds, how firmly do they cleave! Hard bound upon him—all immovable. 24 His heart is molten as a stone; Yea, like the nether millstone petrified. 25Whene’er he rises up the mighty are afraid; In breaking terrors go they all astray. 26Though one may reach928 him with the sword, it holdeth not; Nor spear avails, nor dart, nor coat of mail. 27The iron he esteems as straw, And brass as brittle wood. 28 The archer cannot make him flee; Sling-stones are turned929 to chaff. 29Like stubble are they held,930 the ponderous mace, The shaking of the spear—he laughs at all. 30Sharp pointed shards931 beneath him lie; A threshing drag he spreads upon the mire. 31Like a caldron causes he the deep to foam, Or like an ointment pot, the932 Nile. 32 Behind he makes a sparkling path to shine; One takes the water flood for hoary hair. 33On earth there is none to be compared with him, Created without fear. 34On all high things933 he looketh (fearlessly), Himself the king o’er all the sons934 of pride. Chapter 42 1Then Job answered Jehovah, and said: 2I know it now, all things935 are in Thy power, No thought of Thine can ever be withstayed. 3 “Who is this936 that without knowledge counsel hides?” ’Tis I then937 who have spoken foolishly; Wonders too great for me, that I knew not. 4 But hear, O hear me now,938 and let me speak again. “Tis I who ask” (thou sadist939 it) “let me know” 5By the ear’s hearing940 have I heard of thee; But now mine eyes behold. 6This, then,941 (mine only942 word): I loathe me,943 I repent, In dust and ashes. 7And it was so that after the Lord had spoken these words unto Job, the Lord said to Eliphaz the Temanite: “My wrath is kindled against thee, and against thy two friends; because ye have not spoken unto944 me the thing that is firm,945 as my servant Job hath. 8Now then take unto you seven bullocks and seven rams, and go unto my servant Job, and offer up a burnt offering for you. But946 his face will I accept, that I may not deal with you after your folly; for ye have not spoken unto me the right thing, as my servant Job. 9Then went Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, and did as the Lord had spoken unto them, and the Lord accepted the face947 of Job. 10And the Lord turned the captivity of Job when he prayed948 for his friends. And the Lord increased all that Job had, twofold. 11Then there came unto him all his brethren and all his sisters, and all that had been of his acquaintance before, and they did eat bread with him in his house, and they mourned with him, and comforted him for all the evil that the Lord had brought upon him; every man also gave him a piece of money, and every one a ring of gold. 12So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning; for he had fourteen thousand sheep, and six thousand camels, and a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand she asses. 13He had also seven sons and three daughters. 14And he called the name of the first Jemima, and the name of the second, Kezia, and the name of the third Keren-happuch. 15And in all the land were no women found so fair as the daughters of Job; and their father gave them an inheritance among their brethren. 16And Job lived after this949 a hundred and forty years, and saw his sons, and his sons’ sons, even four generations. 17So Job died old and full of years. ADDENDA ____________ A SERIES OF DISSERTATIONS on the MORE DIFFICULT PASSAGES OF THE BOOK and on Questions Of Interest Suggested By Them ADDENDA ______ EXCURSUS I Job 19:25-27. I know that my redeemer lives;. And o’er my dust, survivor, shall he stand. My skin all gone, this [remnant] they may rend, But from my flesh shall I Eloah see; Shall see him mine;—— Mine eyes shall see him—stranger now no more. If this passage were taken by itself, it might be entitled, “A Psalm of Job, the Suffering and the Tempted Man of God.” It might have for its prefatory motto הִגָּיוֹן, a raptuturous Meditation, or an Ecstatic Burst of Joy, at the thought of seeing his Redeemer, his once seemingly alien, but now reconciled, God. There is something in it which suggests the glorious language at the close of the 16th Psalm: Thou wilt not leave my soul in Hades; Thou wilt not suffer thy Beloved to see corruption. Thou wilt make me know the way of life; Fulness of joy a in thy presence, Glories at Thy right band forever more. That Psalm is entitled מִכְתָּם which the LXX. have well rendered στηλογραφία, a monumental engraving, or pillar writing, from the Hebrew כתם, to cut in, engrave—not for מכתב, as some think, but an independent root, wrongly rendered maculatus by Gesenius, Jeremiah 2:22. It is rather, “indelibly cut in,” or deeply marked, as E. V. has it—the Syriac sense being wholly a secondary one, and the name for gold, כֶּתֶם, coming from the idea of coining or stamping. The application of these words to Christ by the Apostle Peter would warrant us in styling it the Saviour’s monumental inscription, to be placed on the holy sepulchre, if its site were really known. The internal evidence warrants us in regarding these memorable words of Job in a similar light, whilst the language prefacing it, vers. 23, 24, leaves no doubt of its appropriate monumental character, whether used for the Redeemer or the redeemed. The conjunction ו would not militate against this, since it merely shows a connection as it stands, but becoming redundant when the passage is taken separately, like the Greek ὅτι left untranslated in New Testament quotations. The passage has ever been regarded as a most remarkable one. In order to its right interpretation, the first thing is to determine the points that are perfectly clear. They will give us the meaning of the rest, and of the whole. The ideas which admit of no doubt may be thus stated: 1. Job’s feeling—after a season of great despondency—that he had something most important to announce (vers. 23, 24). An idea has somehow suddenly sprung up in his mind, which he wishes so engraved, so cut in the rock, that it may never be lost. It is something for the world to know. This alone is sufficient to show that it is more than a hope of getting back again his sheep and camels, as some of the lowest Rationalists regard it. 2. There is One whom he calls his Goel, avenger or redeemer, who will be the power of his deliverance. This Redeemer is described as אַחֲרון, one after him, who is to stand, עַל עָפָר, over dust, whether it means his dust, or dust generally, as a name for earth, or for the dead, as is the case in other passages (see שֹׁכְנֵי עָפָר, dwellers in dust, Isaiah 26:19; also Psalms 22:30; Genesis 3:19; Psalms 104:29, et al.). 3. There is a clear allusion to his body, his skin, and something remaining after his skin, which is to be destroyed without destroying him. 4. He is to see God. Language cannot be clearer than that by which this is expressed. Two distinct verbs of sight are used, and the declaration is made three times in the most emphatic manner. 5. He is to see God reconciled, no more a stranger, זר, or an enemy, צר (as he seems to describe him, or some hostile power that God permits, Job 16:9). The view entertained by Gesenius, Umbreit, Vaihinger, Stickel, Hahn and Von Hoffmann (as above), and that of Schlottmann” and Delitzsch, referring זר to Job, come, in this respect, to the same thing. 6. There is unmistakable language expressing an ecstatic rapture at the thought conceived, and an ardent longing for its fulfilment. So far the passage is clear. Now, for particular words. גֹּאֵל, ver. 25. All render this word Redeemer. But the Scripture, uses it in two ways. The oldest sense of גֹּאֵל, the Avenger of blood, comes directly from the primary meaning to be stained, stained with blood. In this sense, the גֹּאֵל is the next of kin (Nachmann), stained with the blood of the murdered man until he avenges him by slaying his murderer. This is the idea on what may be called the criminal side of the ancient jurisprudence. Thence it passes to the civil. Here the Goel, the Nachmann, the next of kin, is the one who buys back (redeems) the lost inheritance. The other is the older usage, and it seems the more strange, therefore, that Olshausen, as quoted by Conant, should say so positively: “Der Bluträcher gehört in keiner weise hieher.” On the contrary, everything points to this idea. Job regards himself as one murdered by a cruel enemy, and the prologue, whether we accept it historically or dramatically, confirms it in the strictest sense. Satan was his murderer, and the Goel is the great Redeemer promised Genesis 3:15, and of whom, as the human Avenger and Deliverer (the θεάνθρωπος, a divine kinsman), some trace is preserved in all mythologies, besides appearing so prominently in the Prophets as the אֵל גִּבּור, the Militant or Hero Messiah. The presence of the avenging idea in his mind is shown by the language, Job 16:18 : O Earth, cover not thou my blood (see note on that passage). And so, too, in regard to the word אַחֲרוֹן; if a Hebrew term were to be invented to express Nachmann, no one would be more appropriate to it than this. For the best interpretation of על עפר see Delitzsch. The pronoun being omitted does not weaken the view. Its absence allows us to regard it as spoken of the human dust generally, all the dead, although Job must have had primary reference to himself. Ch. Job 41:25 shows that the phrase may be taken of the earth, generally, as place, if the context demands it; but here, where Job is speaking of his decaying and already decomposing body, everything points to that mournful sense of dust which is first found in Genesis 3:19, as denoting that out of which man was formed, and to which he returns. From this it pervades the scriptural language, and becomes a name for the material of the human body, even before death: “who am but dust and ashes.” The difficulty in regard to נִקְּפוּ, a strong Piel verb, denoting sharp cutting or biting, comes from overlooking the prínciple mentioned in the note to Job 7:3, and the illustrations there furnished from Job 4:19; Job 18:18; Job 34:20; Psalms 49:15; Luke 12:20, and other places. The same reason prevails here. The agent is something fearful or loathsome, causing aversion to the very mentioning of the name. Our E. V. and the earlier translations took the right general view, whatever may have been their applications. The agent here is most probably worms. It may be that Job thought of the worms destroying his flesh in the grave; but that is not as likely as the reference to the worms then crawling on his diseased body, and of which he speaks Job 7:5. They must have been a source of great torment as well as of loathing, and their being something in open sight would account, along with the other reason, for his not naming them, except by the implied pronoun. There may have been a gesture (δεικτικῶς); but there is hardly need of the supposition, either in regard to the biting worms or the wretched fragment of a body. In the case of such objects, the eyes interpreted everything, and the fewest words were the most impressive. They and this are all that is needed. After my skin. This denotes the more interior and vital parts of the body until it is all sore and corroded. The view gives force to Schlottmann’s argument, that מִבְשָׂרִי means “without his flesh,” supposed to be all gone in consequence of the process previously imagined. It was thought best to render מִבְשָׂרִי in the most literal manner, from my flesh; since the translator found it difficult to decide, with certainty, which of the views taken of מ is the right one (from as a position, or from as meaning without), and therefore left it in English with the same ambiguity it has in the Hebrew. The weight of evidence, however, is on the side of a total disembodiment. And here it may be remarked, that the true force of the passage, as testimony, would seem actually weakened by overstraining it into a dogmatic teaching or anticipation of the New Testament doctrine of the resurrection. This would involve the idea of an outward supernatural revelation, made directly by an outward divine influence upon the mind; for Job could not have thought it otherwise. The other supposes it an idea brought out of him in his extreme anguish, his experience of the vanishing body with the soul yet vigorous, and his strong yearning after the reconciled presence of God. It is such a sudden flashing up of hope as might be believed to come from such a state. The Scripture has also more power for us in this way, when we feel its revelations to be thus brought out of the depths of the soul—revelations all the more divine by being thus, in God’s providence, pressed out of the human, than if they had been outwardly and mechanically given as dogmatic truths. Shall see him mine; לִי, for me, on my side; a stranger now no more; לֹא זָר, or estranged; or as he might have said, לא צר, no longer an enemy, as he seemed to be Job 16:9. For the interpretation of בחכיכליותי בחקי, there can be nothing happier than that of Ewald, whose rationalizing might be almost forgiven him for the spiritual insight and enthusiastic feeling he manifests in his description of the state of soul these words express: So dass er endlich im höchsten Entzücken wie vergehend ausruft, O ich vergehe fast vor freudigem Beben und höchster Sehnsucht! “So that finally in the highest rapture, like one wholly overcome, he cries out: ‘O I faint, I am almost gone, from joyous emotion and the high intensity of desire.’” (See Introduction Theism, pa. 8, where this passage is more fully treated in connection with Ch. Job 14:14.) That the full rendering given to that impressive word כלו by the translator, is not beyond its fair significance, will appear from its use Psalms 84:3 : “Longs my soul, faints my soul (כלתה),—“my heart and my flesh cry out, O living God, for thee.” So Psalms 63:2 : “Thirsts for thee my soul—longs for thee my flesh—so to see thy glory, as I have seen thee in the sanctuary.” Compare also Psalms 119:81 : “Faints my soul for thy salvation” (כלתה נפּשי). And here it may be well to note what it was for which Job so longed. It goes not only beyond the common worldly good, but also what might be esteemed a high religious aspiration. It is not the recovery of his lost oxen and camels, as observed before; it was not the restoration of his family joys, though he speaks so feelingly (Job 16:7) of his “desolated household;” it is not the thought of living again merely in another existence; it is not the bliss of that Vedaic Paradise of flowers and sunshine which Merx describes as so surpassing the darker Shemitic conceptions (see Int. Theism, pa. 16). The intense desire which makes him faint away is for reconciliation with God, to behold him as a friend, a stranger now no more, as one “whose favor is life, whose loving-kindness is more than life.” This was the Hebrew and Patriarchal piety which we now think so far behind our own. It appears, as has been said (Int. Theism, pa. 5), even in their despondency when the thought of death as the close of their being had its most mournful aspect in the idea of bidding farewell to God: “I said, I shall no more see Jah, Jah (Jehovah the Lord), in the land of the living,” or among the living; Hezekiah’s Prayer, Isaiah 38:11. At other times it is the soul consoling itself with the idea of God surviving. In this very passage, חי would of itself express this, but the context demands it. It is not that the Redeemer lives merely, or is alive, but that he lives after Job, to stand over and watch his sacred dust. This is an idea prominent in that most expressive paraphrase of Watts which some would depise as uncritical and incorrect. It is a question of subordinate importance whether in this passage of Job there is taught dogmatically the doctrine of the resurrection of the body as held in our Christian articles, or whether there is only the thought of a spiritual beholding of the divine presence. “The power of an endless life” (see Int. Theism, pa. 4), a true resurrection power, is in it; and we may, therefore, regard the spirit of the words as expressed in those lines of the unpretending hymnist that may be found engraved, as Job wished it engraved, in so many of our rural burying-grounds: God my Redeemer aver lives, And often from the skies, Looks down and watches o’er my dust, Till He shall bid it rise. Though greedy worms devour my skin, And gnaw my wasting flesh, Yet He will build my bones again, And clothe them all afresh. Then shall I see my Saviour’s face, With strong immortal eyes, And feast upon his unknown grace, With rapture and surprise. Watts’ “strong immortal eyes” is a happy attempt to give the force of Job’s thrice-repeated beholding; whilst the “rapture and surprise” are justified by the expressive Hebrew words he had employed, כלו כליותי בחקי: “My reins faint in my bosom.” This was a turning point in Job’s experience. He is never afterwards, as Sanctius remarks, exactly the man he was before, or in the preceding parts of this discussion. He never again uses such language as came from him, chap. 3 and 16. Occasionally he relapses into despondency, but it is of an humbler and gentler kind. The dark hour is over; the anger, the impatience, the bitterness, seem gone. He still wonders at the unexplained mysteries of God’s providence towards the righteous, and the still more inexplicable enigma of his dealings with evil doers. This appears in chapters 21, 24 and 27; but in the same connection, he shows that he understands and can describe their final catastrophes as well as those who had wrongly charged him with holding that God actually and personally favors the wicked. In chap. 23, he mourns the hidings of the divine countenance; “O that I knew where I might find him;” but it is still with the great hope, weakened it may be, but not lost: “I cannot trace him, but He knoweth the way that I take, and when He hath sufficiently tried me, I shall come forth as gold.” In chap. 26, he shows that he can talk of the divine power and works as loftily as Bildad, though without his pretension. In chap. 28, we have his sublime soliloquy on the unknown and unknowable in the divine wisdom. In chap. 29, he mournfully recalls “the moons of old,” and mourns at the remembrance of his departed joys. In the most natural way, whilst disdaining all false humility, he recounts the acts which had made “the poor to bless him,” and “the widow’s heart to sing for joy.” Following this, in that most eloquent vindication, chap. 31 where his words come to a close, we find him challenging his accusers to a review of his life, and concluding with a most solemn appeal to the Punisher of falsehood and Vindicator of truth. It is all most truthful, as well as most pathetic, and so far from seeming like boasting, it adds to the power of that most humble confession which is brought from him, not by the arguments of his opponents, but by that divine presence at which he alone is melted, whilst the others stand confounded and amazed. Even here there abides with him the power of that glorious hope, tempering his confession, so as to bring forth the fruit of soothing penitence instead of fell despair. It was, in fact, this utterance of chap, 19, which begins that preparation for complete submission, and for the revelation of the divine favor, which commentators have so variously assigned in their artificial and unappreciative divisions of “the drama.” EXCURSUS II A Remarkable Difference between the Speeches of Job and those of the other Speakers. The Pausing, Soliloquizing Character of the former, and the seeming Unconsciousness they betray of Surrounding Persons. Bearing of this feature on the alleged inconsistencies of Job 21–28 Job 21:17 How oft goes out the light of wicked men This is the rendering of our English Version, and it is the only one that would have been thought of, if there had not been supposed to he some exigentia loci that calls for another. It is the simplest and easiest translation of plain Hebrew words in the only sense in which they are found, wherever they occur in the Hebrew Scriptures. This supposed difficulty is in the apparently sudden change from a vivid description of the impunity and prosperity of the wicked to an equally vivid painting of their destruction. It may seem less strange, however, when we call to mind that there is a similar transition, Psalms 73. The wicked are there described as prospering: “their eyes stand out with fatness; they are not in trouble as other men;” the pious are stumbled at the sight, etc. Soon we have a very different strain commencing with that most suggestive particle אַךְ: “Yes, verily, Thou dost set slippery places for them; how are they brought to desolation as in a moment! they are consumed with terrors.” The transition, in itself considered, is equally striking; but in the interval, which is unmeasured for us, Asaph had “gone into the sanctuary;” whether it mean the outward temple or tabernacle, or the private sanctuary of his own pious meditations. There he recovered himself; there he saw that there was another side to the matter. Here there is no interval of outward action, nor is there mentioned any subjective one. But a transition must have taken place. The consistency of the passage, even its dramatic consistency, demands something of the kind. It may have been very short—but a second or two in fact—for the thoughts often travel very far, and that, too, consecutively, in a brief interval of time. Is the supposition of such a pause an arbitrary one? or are there rational grounds to be found for it in the peculiar character of the drama, in the conditions of the speakers, especially the principal one, and in the modes of utterance natural to such conditions? In the very beginning, we are told, the friends sat a long time with Job in perfect silence; “for they saw that his suffering (הַכְּאֵב) was very great.” May we not suppose shorter intervals of a similar character to have occurred in other parts of the discussion, with resumptions seemingly sudden and disconnected? It is easy to imagine the scene. They wait for him while his short panting breath (Job 17:1) forbids his speaking, or when they see him drop his head and voice, and become absorbed in reverie. Such pauses, whether for these or other reasons, would especially occur in the speeches of Job. Those of the friends are direct and continuous. Whether it be argument, or appeal, or sententious and didactic lecturing, it goes straight on to its close; and there are few, if any, cases where we fail to see a direct connection throughout. This comes from their condition as cool, theoretical or oratorical pleaders, with nothing in their circumstances, bodily or spiritual, to produce such musing or ejaculatory pauses. The friends are, indeed, figurative and rhetorical; but Job is vehement, exclamatory, appealing, expostulating—crying out from his extreme anguish—now addressing the friends, then protesting unto God—praying, deprecating, at times talking or muttering to himself like a man in delirium. In one place (Job 9:35), he feels and says, that he “is not his perfect self,” in other words, out of his composed and rational mind. The friends may be always near him; yet he sometimes talks as one hardly conscious of their presence. Chapter 14 seems almost wholly made up of this unconscious soliloquizing. The same may be said of chapter 23. There are times when everything seems lost sight of but his pain and that ever-present feeling of God’s estrangement. Again, it is the haunting idea of some unseen malignant persecutor that breaks up the continuity of his thoughts, and drives him to what seems almost a frantic raving, as in some parts of ch, 16 This spasmodic style, and this unconscious, soliloquizing feature, which make such a difference between the speeches of Job and those of the friends, has not been sufficiently attended to by commentators. In it, perhaps, may he found the solution of many difficulties and a rational means of explaining the inconsequential appearance of many passages. If this be called an imagination, it has its rational warrant. The scene is easily called up. As he sits groaning in the ashes (Job 2:8), with head bowed down, in mournful silence—except when roused by some of their unfeeling taunts, or still more unfeeling exhortations to confession—his thoughts revolve in a way that grammatical rules cannot always connect, nor particles define. He starts from his musing, and, though it may have been but for a moment, his thoughts have drifted far, and, on resuming, they may even seem, perhaps, to be moving in what appears to be an opposite, direction. If we closely study the place, however, there will be found something which reveals the position of these pauses, as well as any stage marks could do. It gives us, too, a glimpse of what he has been thinking of in the interval, and which has deflected the current. This is indicated in various ways. It is sometimes the resuming particle, such as an אוּלָם, an אָמְנָם, an אַךְ, a גַּם, and sometimes a כי, coming in in such a manner that we cannot easily connect what follows with what, to the eye, had immediately preceded: ah yes—so it is—in very truth—yes, this also, etc. They refer to the intervening thought, a protest, it may be, an appeal, a prayer, a deprecation, some new fear, or some sudden hope, which colors all that follows. Sometimes such a pause is to be inferred from the context. It is revealed by an apodosis which has no protasis apparently, unless it can be thus supplied, or, it may be, by the mere abruptness of the language. Job’s religious emotions are to be regarded in the same way: now up, now down—sinking, as in Job 19:20-21; soaring, as in vers. 25–27 of the same chapter—utterly despondent, Job 14:10-12, then praying, ver. 13, finding encouragement from the prayer to put the great question, ver. 14, getting immediate assurance, as appears ver. 15, desponding again, ver. 19, and mourning as though death filled all his thoughts, vers. 21, 22. And so, too, after the great hope of chap. 19, lamenting again the hiding of God’s countenance, chap. Job 23 : “O that I knew where I might find Him.” In the speeches of the friends, we find, indeed, difficulties arising from the obscurities of rare words, or strange idioms; but they are philological, instead of logical. There are none of that peculiar kind we meet with in the musing and passionate appeals of Job. These may be passages perfectly clear in themselves; but the difficulty is that of finding the thought connection between them. The idea of a silent, soliloquizing or musing interval, be it more or less, elapsing between them, and during which the thoughts take a different direction, gives the only way of explaining, whilst furnishing, too, a strong argument that the explanation is real. Thus here, in chap. 21, the first break of the kind is at ver. 16. To that point the description of the wicked is clearly continuous. Then we find language which certainly seems to make a jar with what precedes. There is something wrong, something to be deprecated, about the wicked after all. He stops and thinks; then raises his head and talks to himself. His language seems introspective, rather than addressed to any outside hearers. A new thought comes up: However prosperous they may sometimes seem to be, bad men have, after all, no security. They are not independent of a higher Power. Even when we see no break in their prosperity, there is something in it which excites distrust. Job “goes into the sanctuary” of his own thoughts. Then “understands he better about their end.” The interjection הֵן with which he begins, shows the new feeling. He calls attention to it as somewhat differing from what he had said, though not contradicting it: Behold! Their good is not in their owe power; The way of wicked men, O be it far from me. Another brief pause, and the other view is taken with still increasing confidence; ver. 16 being a transition facilitating its adoption. One thing is quite clear. The more modern interpreters are right in supposing that in ver. 17, and in what follows, there is a reference to the very words the friends have used in various places, but it is not by way of irony, nor of sharp dissent that he employs them. They come up to his recollection with the feeling that there is truth in them, however one sided they may appear. It is, in fact, an assent, only expressed in a more impassioned way. This greatly one-sided picture of Zophar (chap. 20), leaving out, as it does, some of the most obvious facts belonging to a complete representation of the case, together with Job’s sense of its injustice as cruelly insinuated against himself, sets him strongly in the direction he first takes. He sees only that side. Then comes up the thought that he may be going too far, and committing, perhaps, the same one-sided error. He is proceeding towards the very position they had charged him with, namely that God actually favors the wicked. There is, too, something within him which tells him that he would not, after all, exchange his pain for their pleasure, even as he himself has painted it: “The counsel of the wicked be it far from me” (Job 21:16). And so, we may suppose, comes the intervening check and the confession expressed in brackets as really belonging to the feeling of the passage: (Yes, truth ye say): How oft goes out the light of wicked men! When cornea upon them their calamity, And God in wrath allots them deadly pains! This third line has every appearance of being intended as a qualifying of what he had said above (2d clause of ver, 13) about their easy death. That may be often so; but other cases come to mind of their dying in pain and horror. So the Psalmist had said: “ There are no bands (or pangs, חַרְצֻבּוֹת, strictures, tortures, a word very similar to חֲבָלִים here) in their death.” But when the vision had been cleared by a higher power, he sees them “standing on slippery places and utterly consumed with terrors.” What, then, is the fearful thought to which Job alludes, ver. 6, in view of the prosperity of the wicked? Which when I call to mind, then am I sore afraid, And trembling taketh hold on all my flesh. At first view, it would seem to be this prosperity in itself considered, as the object of his jealousy, that seems so awful to him; but what follows, after ver. 17, shows that even there another idea was mingling with this, and contained the real element of horror. The immunity of the wicked seen in one view, their downfall, their utter ruin, sometimes, here upon earth, so frequently seen in another (as shown by examples Job could not have been ignorant of, and that, too, coming often out of the very circumstances of their prosperity), the apparent absence of any rule or distinction in relation to it—all this produced a feeling of utter bewilderment and confusion; especially as called up by the thought of his own unintelligible affliction. Some wicked men prospered all through, others overthrown by the most dire calamities; he cannot understand it; taken in connection with his own case, it utterly dismays him. Is there one that rules over this dark enigmatical world? This is the question that appals him. He is again approaching the verge of that precipice he was so near Job 9:24. It was that dark thought of an undistinguishing physical fatality described Ecclesiastes 9:2 : The all, according as it is to all—one fate to all, The just, the vile, the good, the pure, the one with sin defiled; As to the good, so unto him that sins; As to the perjured, so to him who fears to break an oath. An indifferent Deity! The thought is horrible; he cannot bear it; perhaps there is no God at all. The suggestion terrifies him; trembling taketh hold on all his flesh, ver. 6. But here he is in a better state. The influence of that enrapturing hope (Job 19:25) has not been lost, and his faith in God is strengthened by that idea of a final judgment so clearly expressed ver. 30, notwithstanding the efforts that some have made to pervert it to a different and even an opposite meaning. It is that great idea which has shown itself in all the religious ethics of the world—the thought of a “judgment to come,” more deeply rooted in the moral constitution of man than even that of a future life when regarded irrespective of it. The idea may have accompanying it less of time and locality. It is attended with great eschatological difficulties, which even the Scripture does not fully clear up; but still it holds on. The human mind cannot wholly surrender it. At some time, and in some way, all shall be made right, however dense “the clouds and darkness” that now surround the throne of God. Such thoughts seem to mingle together in the mind of Job, as they are irregularly brought out in his introspective passionate way. In the course of the chapter there are other musings of a similar kind. In vers. 23–26, his thoughts wander to the differences in the deaths of individuals, whether religious or wicked, and there comes up again a similar skeptical feeling: Alike do they lie down in dust. But it is no more at war with this higher view of the judgment, than the similar language in Ecclesiastes. In ver. 31 there is another seeming transition, describing the wicked man as carried to the tomb, just as the righteous is—and all, of every character, following on in the same thronged way. The conclusion is, “your comforting” (if ye will call it so) is in vain. It is only a partial view ye take, and there is, consequently, much of falsehood and deception in your answer; see ver. 34. In taking such a view of Job’s speeches, not merely in respect to this question of pauses, but in regard to their strange subjective character, their evident soliloquizing, their sudden changes, and the striking differences, in all these respects, between them and those of his friends, the first feeling is one of wonder at the dramatic skill which has thus depicted them. A deeper thinking carries us beyond this. It is not mere dramatic painting that we have before us. No one invented this character. It is a reality—a true soul-experience. A man did thus suffer; he was thus tempted and forsaken; he did thus speak. It is substantially true, as we have elsewhere attempted to show, in respect to the language of chap. 14 and 19 (Int. Theism, pa. 9). No human genius, even though accompanied by the highest skill in dramatic fiction that has been exhibited in modern times, ever so entered into the depths of the soul, or could have drawn such a picture, unless he drew from the life—not the outer merely, but the most interior life laid bare to him by some revelation of the human coming from a sphere above the plane of any mere human experience. We may say this with confidence when we consider what caricatures have been almost all attempts to draw the religious life as mere invented fiction, although taking all the aids they could get from the Scriptures. If such an experience is a thing unknown to writers of fiction now—if all their attempts to set it truly forth are failures—it was still more unknown, it was still more beyond the inventive powers of any ancient writers, if we may suppose any such attempts to have been made in the early day. This story of Job, his sufferings, his speeches, his prayers, his expostulations, his almost frantic appeals, his despondency, his despair, his exalted hope so soon followed by relapses into darkness, his deep penitence, his most pathetic confession, his full submission at the close—all this is from a higher than human pencil. Compare it with any thing in the literature of the world, whether we take the earlier or the later date. What is most remarkable throughout the whole is that cleaving unto God which no vehemence of expostulation can sunder, even though he seems to see the Almighty repelling his approach: “ Let Him slay me, still will I wait”—still “ trust in Him,” Job 13:15. And here we find the very centre of his deepest anguish. It was not mere bodily suffering that most affects him; though that seems to have been indescribably great. It is the thought of God as “ hiding His face from him.” But when it goes beyond even this, to the conception of God as estranged from the world, as utterly indifferent to the affairs of men—whence is in danger of losing the idea of a Providence altogether, and even of a personal God at all—it is this that drives him wild, that “fills him with terror,” and causes “trembling to take hold of all his flesh,” Job 21:6. Then, too, how is the contrast heightened when, in his lowest extremity, after that piteous cry, Job 19:21, there is suddenly let into his. mind the thought that he shall yet see Eloah—when and where he knows not, thinks not—see Him with his own eyes—see Him a “reconciled God,” no longer a stranger or an enemy. The hope fills hi soul with an insupportable rapture, under which his poor diseased body faints away, Vor freudigem Beben und hōchster Sehnsucht, as Ewald describes it without going at all beyond those strong Hebrew words, כָּלְוּ כִלְיוֹתַי בְּחֵקִי. No man, we say, invented this. His friends, men of pure and lofty thoughts, in themselves considered, could not understand it, and no cool writer of fiction could have made even an approach towards describing such an experience. There is nothing known to men by which they could draw such a character by mere dramatic delineation. It is indeed dramatic, but only as a part of God’s acted revelation in the world. The record of it, therefore, though through some human medium worthy of the sacred office, may be supposed to be made under the divine guidance, and in substantially true in the language, as well as in the acts, and in the soul-exercises recorded. In order to avoid what is deemed an inconsistency, and even a contradiction, in the speech of Job, many interpreters give to כַּמָה, in the 17th verse of chap. 21, the sense of how seldom instead of how often, making it almost equivalent to a denial that wicked men are ever visited with calamity at all. They then supply this particle before a number of clauses that follow: “How seldom goes out the lamp, &c.; how seldom does their destruction come upon them; how seldom are they as stubble, or as the chaff, which the wind drives away.” There is no reason, grammatical or philological, why they should not go on, in the same way, to supply it before the clauses of ver. Job 19 : “How seldom does Eloah treasure up his iniquity for his sons? How seldom does He requite (punish) him, so that he knows it?” The tenses and the order of the words are alike, and no reason except this supposed exigentia loci can be given why they should not be rendered in a similar way. Here, however, at ver. 19, the difficulty is supposed to be escaped, by giving the futures—though just like the futures before—the interrogative and imprecatory turns: “Will God treasure up his iniquity for his children (leaving him in prosperous impunity)? Rather let Him requite it to himself (the wicked man), that he may know.” Or the first clause of ver. 19 is taken as Job’s sarcastic quotation, or anticipation rather, of their own language: “God layeth up his iniquity for his children, does he? rather let Him repay it to the sinner himself.” It represents Job as holding that, with very rare exceptions, the wicked man is prospered during his own life, and that it is no answer to this to say that the evil comes upon his children. Job arraigns the divine conduct, and makes bold to say what God ought to do: “Rather let Him requite it to himself”—make him pay his own debts, not bring it on his poor children: “Let his own eyes see his own destruction; let him drink himself of the wrath of the Almighty.” Now this certainly represents Job in an awful light. It is not only a false view he holds of the wicked man’s lot, as unbroken prosperity, but a profane fault-finding with God for letting it come upon his children, instead of punishing the sinner himself. The kind of argument he is supposed to make in showing the injustice of this, is still more profane. “The wicked man is dead,” so is he made to reason—dead without pain (see ver. 13), and it cannot trouble him whether his children suffer or not; he has no will nor wish in the matter; there has been “peace in his day,” what difference does it make to him what comes after him. A more impious sentiment is not to be found in the whole book; a more impious sentiment is not to be found any where, than is here ascribed to Job. His strong language in other cases, with all its seeming irreverence, may be regarded as coming from spasms of intolerable pain, making him to cry out of seeming cruelty. His vehement expostulations with God, though sometimes terrific, do actually show the depth and the preciousness of the divine idea in his soul. It is revealed in his very despair. But here, in respect to matters outside of himself, he deliberately charges, or is supposed to charge, God with the grossest injustice, and profanely, nay, even sneeringly, advises Him as to what would be a more suitable proceeding: “Let Him requite it to the man himself, and not to his children, who are innocent, and about whom, now that he has gone, after having had his own selfish uninterrupted day of prosperity, he cares nothing;” for “what concern hath he in his house after him ?” On this hypothesis, these supposed interrogations of Job, are really the most direct assertions that the wicked man is very rarely, if he is ever, punished; whilst some of his language, thus regarded, is so directly in the face of other Scriptures as to give the Rationalist Umbreit the idea that it was intended for that very purpose: “‘How seldom are the wicked driven away like chaff before the wind?’ as though Job, or the writer of Job, meant to take a position directly in the face of the 1st Psalm.” This is Umbreit’s exegetical wisdom. He actually supposes a polemic intention here with respect to that portion of Scripture: Gegen eine einseitige und lieblose Auslegung dieses Psalms polemisirt recht eigentlich Hiob. Umbreit, p. 167. But to come back to the philological argument; all this is answered by turning to the Concordance of Noldius. This particle כמה is given by him as occurring in eleven passages cited. In no single place in the Scripture has it any other meaning than that of how often, how many, how long, !&c.—quot! quoties ! quanta ! There is not a single one in which the rendering how seldom, how rarely, how few, how little ( quantula ) would not wholly change or completely reverse the sense intended. Psalms 78:40 is referred to by Delitzsch and others, but a glance at the passage shows that it is the other way: כמה ימרוהו “how oft did they rebel against him?” That is, very often, sœpissime. Job 13:23 is cited as though כמה לי עונות should be read: “how few are my sins?” but this is felt at once to be out of harmony with the context and the spirit of the appeal. Whatever Job’s own opinion may have been as to the number of his sin?, the address is evidently made to one who is supposed to regard them as many. This is shown by what every reader must feel, namely, that the substitution there of how few for how many, takes away all the force of the supplication. It is 80 in other languages. Quot, quoties, quanta, ποσάκις, can never be rendered how few or how seldom; for that is a thing we seldom have occasion to ask about, whether the desire be to obtain information, or to express admiration, or wonder. The word for it in Hebrew, should there be occasion, would be מְעַט, with some interrogative or explanatory particle, as Job 10:20, הֲלֹא מְעַט יָמַי, “are not my days few?” (see also Isaiah 29:17); or some such kind of language as we have Psalms 39:5, “Make me to know (or let me know) the measure of my days מה היא what it is, מֶה חָדֵל אָנִי, how transient, how frail I am.” Another mode is resorted to by making Job’s language here to be ironic, but this is so inconsistent with the pathos and dignity of the passage, that it needs no formal answer. Whatever ingenuity may be shown in such reconciling expositions, it becomes of no avail from the fact that the same supposed difficulty meets us in other places where no device of exegesis can get rid of it. Thus in ch. 27, from vers. 13 to 23, there is given by Job a most unmistakable picture of the doom of the wicked, painted in colors surpassing those of Zophar in ch. 20, or of any other one of the disputants: “His children are destroyed by the sword or by famine; his widow shall not weep; he buildeth his house like a moth; terrors take hold on him; a tempest stealeth him away in the night; as by a storm is he hurled out of his place (see Proverbs 14:32; 1 Samuel 25:29); God casts his vengeance upon himmen hiss him out of his place.” Very numerous and ingenious have been the attempts to settle the difficulty here, if it be a difficulty. Some would re-arrange the text, so as to give the passage to Zophar, in whose mouth they think it would be more consistent. Kennicott would bring in his numerous emendations. For other attempted solutions, see Conant’s very valuable annotation. Rosenmueller solves it in one way; Umbreit in another; some make it an interpolation, and so on. The perplexity is increased by the way in which each solver (Umbreit for example) dwells on the wisdom of his own solution, and so complacently eulogizes the genius of this most “skillful dramatic poet,” to whom he confidently ascribes it, whilst calling other attempts “Cimmerian darkness,” although their authors thought them as wise as his own. Ewald’s view of Job 27:13-23, although it cannot be accepted as a satisfactory solution on this hypothesis, contains some things worthy of note. “It is the turning-point,” he says, “in the development of Job’s dark destiny. The removal of the doubts presented demand, as it were, a new and sure beginning. Job begins to feel what an infinite salvation there lies in the consciousness of innocence, how through it he has been delivered in the most extreme peril, and now, with the great gain of a noble experience, and of inward strength acquired, stands on the threshold of a new time. This consciousness, so hardly won, has a retroactive effect upon his view of the dark side of life, giving him a stand point whence he may see how much there must be in the world and in God that is now incomprehensible, and that, though the wicked may seem to prosper, and the pious to suffer, yet is there an eternal order of development, in which innocence shall not be without its fruit, nor guilt go unpunished. Thus the doubts, not wholly set aside, but made more easy to bear, and deprived of their power to hurt, retire into the back-ground. Job has clearly expressed the yearning anticipations of his soul, and given utterance to the purest and highest truths, thereby gaining a full triumph, and taking the victor’s place in the contest. For he gives up nothing of his fundamental idea; since in reference to the whole matter in controversy, he returns to his first position, where he stands like a rock, maintaining his innocence against every assault.” Ewald, Das Buch Ijob, 2d Ed., pa. 245. This is very well said; but it contains some things far-fetched, however ingenious. It makes Job too logical. It strives too much after a doctrinal consistency, and yet in what is said about the new-acquired consciousness and the taking of new stand- points, there is something which may be claimed as substantially in harmony with what we have here endeavored to set forth, namely: that the emotional in Job, the musing, introspective temperament which is taken up with its own revolving exercises, and thinks little of outward consistency, is predominant in all he says—thereby presenting that striking contrast between his speeches and those of the friends, which cannot be too much insisted on in the interpretation of the Book. To sum up, it may be said, that in such passages as have occasioned this comment, Job is evidently affected by three influences—outward influences we might call them in partial distinction from the inward state on which we have been dwelling. He perceives the falsehood of the strong pictures of the wicked man’s misfortunes in this world, which the friends present as exceptionless and universal. He feels keenly, too, the injustice of their indirect application to himself; and all this sets him on the opposite tack, as we may say. After proceeding some distance in this direction, there comes in that higher consciousness of which Ewald speaks, modifying the description and even turning it the other way. That he does not perceive, and therefore makes no open provision against the logical or rhetorical jar, comes from the musing, pausing, introspective, outwardly unconscious, inwardly self-conscious, mode of thought and speech, so characteristic of him, or from the fact that a good deal of the time he is talking to God, to whom his logical consistency is of no consequence, or to himself, by whom all its defects are consciously supplied. This admitted, the absence of connection is accounted for, and, instead of being surprised at it, we are led to expect what may be called the emotional, rather than the logical, transitions. A third reason for the seeming inconsistency of Job is of a lower kind, but still consistent with purity and integrity of character. The friends seem to assume towards him a higher moral position in picturing the wicked man’s ruin. Job’s desire to repel this false assumption of didactic superiority is a right one. It leads him, however, after he has sufficiently denied what was fallacious in their too one-sided descriptions, to take the other course by way of showing that he understands the case as well as they do—that he has not-been an inattentive or obtuse observer of human life, and that, if he chooses, he can even go beyond them in all such picturings. It is a feeling similar to that which leads him to take down the lofty-talking Bildad, when expatiating, as the latter does in chap, 25, upon the greatness of the divine works, as though he would give Job a lesson here. The one whom he thus assumes to teach properly replies, by showing that he too has thought upon these things, that he too can talk in this strain, should it be necessary, and even outdo him in such an, oratorical effort. To see this, compare chapters 25 and 26. In general, however, Job’s thoughts and words are from his inner world. He cares little for logical consistency, because less than they is he thinking of an audience, or of an antagonist—unless it be that seeming antagonism or divine estrangement over which he is ever mourning. It is over the tumultuous, volcanic flood of his own thoughts, he is constantly brooding, and bringing them out to light. This he does in that irregular, broken way of which we find so many unmistakable examples, leading to the conclusion that in a proper consideration of this dramatic feature, there is found, not only a solution of every seeming hiatus, but also very much of the true impressiveness of this sublime production. It is from this, too, as may be said again, that we get a conviction of the objective reality of the whole action, which no talk about artistical and dramatic skill can set aside. ______________ EXCURSUS III ON THE יוֹם עֲבָרוֹת OR DIES IRARUM. Chap. Job 21:30. To the day of doom the wicked man is kept; To the day of mighty wrath are they brought forth The more carefully we study the translation of this passage in our English Version, and as given by Dr. Conant, the more clear will it become that it presents the substantial meaning. It agrees with the old versions, Vulgate, Syriac and LXX., as it appears in its Hexaplar Syriac translation. On the same side is Raschi, also the best of the old commentators as cited in Poole’s Synopsis, together with Gesenius, Pareau, Conant, and others of later times. On the other side, is the formidable array of Heiligstedt, Umbreit, Dillmann, Delitzsch, et al. Had the verse stood by itself, we hazard nothing in saying that no other translation than that of E. V. and Luther would have been thought of. It is its apparent disagreement with a false hypothesis, that has led to the varied comment. חָשַׂךְ simply means restraint, cohibuit; whether from a thing, or for a purpose, depends upon the preposition, or the context. So הוּבַל simply means brought forth or out; whether from or to, or for what purpose, to be determined in like manner. It may be: held back from danger or harm, in which case the preposition מ, expressed or implied, would seem to be indispensable; or it may mean kept, reserved for, where the preposition ל, would alone give the sense demanded. An example of this, which Gesenius deems conclusive from its exact similarity to the present passage, is found ch. Job 38:23 : “ which I have reserved,” חשכתי,“ to the time of trouble” (לְעֵת צָר),“to the day (לְיוֹם) of battle and war.” So the other verb יוּבָלוּ: “They are brought forth.” How? The context shows. From, to or in? The preposition determines. In Isaiah 55:12 (cited for the later view, but wholly inapplicable),“they are brought forth in peace,” בשלום (ב not ל). The unsuitableness of this reference appears from the fact that it would prove too much. The wicked would be not only brought forth from danger “at the day of wrath” (if that can be the meaning of ליום), but they are also brought forth triumphantly—not merely saved, but saved in a striking or processional manner, as though God made them conspicuous objects of His favor. It cannot mean, brought out of trouble; for on the very hypothesis demanded by this mode of exegesis, Job has been setting forth, and is still setting forth their uninterrupted prosperity. It cannot mean “brought out,” so as to be spared from death, if “the day of wrath” meant that; for such an idea would involve a contradiction on either hypothesis. Most absurd here is Rosenmueller, who interprets it that “in the day of God’s wrath the wicked men are brought to the sepulchre by way of deliverance from evils: Die irarum Dei deducuntur ad sepulchrum (ut supra Job 10:19) malis erepti improbi;” that is, “they are taken away before the evil,” or “from the evil to come.” This is the very thing Isaiah says of the righteous, Isaiah 57:1; whilst Job here ia made to say, or to approve of saying, just the contrary. The insuperable objection, however, to this rendering lies in the preposition employed for both verbs before יום. There is no way of making this mean from, or in, or at. At the day might do sometimes as a rendering of ליום, where the context strongly demanded it; but here to or for the day give such a facile sense that it repels every other. For a context precisely similar, see Proverbs 16:1, רשע ליום רעה, “the wicked man for the day of evil.” Compare also Proverbs 21:31, “a horse for the day of battle;” Isaiah 10:3, “ to the day of visitation;” Jeremiah 12:3, “devote him to the day of slaughter.” Why go away from the plain indication of the preposition, all the more conclusive from the fact that ליום here, and in all these cases, denotes the scene, the event, rather than time? Dillmann feels the force of this, and it almost makes him retract the other interpretation, which only a supposed exigentia loci, arising out of a false hypothesis in regard to the whole chapter, leads him to adopt. “It cannot be denied,” he says, “that for לוים we should rather expect ביום, whilst ל seems rather to denote aim and limit, as חשך with ל, Job 38:23, and יובל, Job 10:19 (‘brought forth from the womb to the grave’) and יובל לקברות, Job 21:32, just below.” Comp. Jeremiah 10:19 : “a lamb brought out to the slaughter;” the same Isaiah 53:7; Hosea 10:7; Hosea 12:2; Psalms 45:15, Again, does it look like an idea so traditional and universal that wicked men are specially spared in a day of calamity (whether it refer to general or private judgments), and that in days of God’s wrath they are brought forth in processional triumph? Let any one study the Proverbs of Solomon’s collecting, the best ethical authority for this purpose, and he will see in what a variety of ways the opposite idea is set forth: “ The wicked for the day of evil.” How universal the aphorism that, in some way, wickedness will bring ruin upon the wicked. The proverb just referred to is almost in the very language of this passage. Its testimony to the human ethical consciousness would be amply sufficient, if the idea did not meet us everywhere in the so-called Chockma or Hebrew Wisdom. The world’s experience, too, is the other way. There are indeed cases of remarkable prosperity attending wicked men, but it is not general, so as to form the subject of an aphorism in traditional ethics. There is no such universality in the fact, to say the least, as the “signs of the way-farers” thus interpreted would give it. Especially would it be out of harmony with the best views we can get of the early Arabian world. From the earliest Eastern poetry, as well as from the Koran, do we derive just the contrary idea. When Mohammed threatens the robber Kafirs, or unbelievers, with the old dogma that wicked prosperity is in danger of a downfall, they are always represented as replying: “ Ah, that is just what we and our fathers have been threatened with of old; it is all a fable (a saying) of the ancients.” Every scholar is familiar with the Greek doctrine of Nemesis, carried even to the superstitious length of holding that mere prosperity of itself, without crime, was dangerous, or that it indicated some fearful doom to which the prosperous man was reserved. The same eschatological idea, though without time or place, comes forth in the language of the Old Testament: “ The wicked shall not stand in the judgment,” Psalms 1:5; “The upright shall have dominion over them on the morning” (Psalms 49:15), or the great dies retributionis for which the earliest Arabian that we know of uses the same expression.950 If, on the other hand, we regard Job’s pictures here as of a mixed kind, irregular and impassioned—now setting forth the prosperity of the wicked, all the more strongly from the remembrance of his own misery, and dwelling on certain items (Job 21:11) from the contrast his vivid imagination finds in them to his own forlorn condition—then checking himself and dilating upon the other view, of which he must have known many examples in his own worldly experience—it is not difficult to account for what follows. The very absence of any visible rule in the present state of things, would lead to the thought of some יום עברות, some great judgment-scene, however indeterminable or inconceivable its time and locality. It was this feeling that created the idea, and led to the ethical lore of “ the way-passers” as the common carriers of the traditions and doctrines of the peoples. The impunity of wicked men is certainly not one of these world sayings; and could it be supposed it would be directly in the face of that Vergeltungslehre of which the Rationalist commentators have so much to say, as the universal doctrine of the ancient world. There may, perhaps, be the understood meaning: reserved, held back from present evils, for the day of איד, the day of the great calamity, and that may also be gotten from Raschi, and from the servatur of the Vulgate, whether in the sense of preserved or watched for, but this would only the more confirm the idea of the great איד to which such a reserving is preparatory. According to the common interpretation of Job 42:7, Job is commended for saying of, or concerning, God: what is right (נָכון, firm, constans, consistens). But what a picture of daring irreverence, and of profane scoffing, even, does he present, according to the view some take of this whole chapter‍! It has three aspects: 1. He is supposed to describe the wicked as enjoying uninterrupted prosperity through the present life, then leaving it without pain, and with no concern for any thing that may come after them, which very unconcern is represented as a portion of their good. 2. In what Job says from ver. 17 and onward, where he seems to qualify the sweeping character of the first assertions, he is only sneering at the language of the friends, repeating it insincerely or in a taunting manner, and thus actually giving a stronger emphasis to his first assertions. 3. Not content with this, he adopts, as the supposed meaning of “the way-passers,” that the wicked not only go on with impunity in the common course of life, but that they are specially favored in a time of great calamity, and in the day of wrath (great wraths, wraths, in the plural, which must mean God’s wrath) they are brought out in triumph (יובלו, in a procession as it were). And this is done by God! It is not merely an overlooking (as Paul seems to say Acts 17:30), a letting men go their ways, but a special favoring of the wicked. He brings them out in a sort of processional pomp, and keeps them from harm in His dies irarum. RENAN here goes beyond all others who take this view: Au jour fatal, le méchant est épargné, Au jour de la colère divine, il est soustrait au châtiment, as though God specially shielded him when the divine vengeance is shown upon the earth. Now add to this Job’s assuming to tell God (ver. 19) what He ought to do, according to this interpretation, namely, to “punish the bad man himself in his lifetime, and not let it come on his innocent children, of whose sufferings he has no feeling”—and there is reached the very climax of impiety. He could not, moreover, have gone more directly in the face of his own caution (ver. 22): “shall a man teach God? teach Him who judges the high ?” And yet all this comes directly from the mode of interpreting this chapter (21) adopted by Delitzsch and others. The extreme Rationalist, Merx, would also represent Job as teaching in this passage, ver. 30, that the wicked are specially favored; but he has a much easier way of doing it. Seeing clearly that the text, as it stands, can only be interpreted of the wicked being brought out for judgment and perdition, he inserts, with his usual recklessness, the negative לא, making it read: “the wicked are not reserved to the day of calamity; they are not brought forth for the day of wrath.” That is the way in which he makes them escape, and that is the strange doctrine he thus forces into the mouths of “the way-passers”. But in doing this he confirms, in the most decided manner, the other sense for which we contend. It is a confession that it is the only one admissible unless the negative לא, for which he has no warrant whatever, is inserted. In his note he does not hesitate to charge the Jewish critics, those worshippers of words and letters, with having, for dogmatic purposes, designedly changed the text. EXCURSUS IV Job 22:5-13 The Harsh Criminations Of Eliphaz These verses present one of the great difficulties of the book. The apparent harshness of the charges made against Job, as they appear in our English Version, and in other translations, seem inexplicable, whether viewed in their moral or in their mere dramatic aspect. The view to be taken of them, however, depends very much on the mode of rendering, and this again takes much of its coloring from the meaning given to ver. 5, and especially the starting particle הֲלֹא. In one view it represents Job as not only guilty of enormous sins, but as so notorious for them as to put denial out of the question: “Is not thy wickedness great, and thine iniquities infinite?” Did Eliphaz actually mean to charge him thus? The difficulties in the way of this are so great, that we are driven to a close study of the language, to see if there may not be some modification, to say the least, of such a rendering. Much, as has been said, depends upon the right view of the starting word, in itself, and as affected by the context. The Hebrew language having no modal forms, the question whether such an expression as הֲלֹא רָעָתְךָ רַבָּה is indicative (under an interrogative form), and thus directly assertive, or whether it is potential, conjectural (or hypothetical), must depend very much on the particles and constructive forms that accompany or follow. Is not thy evil great? May not thy evil be great? Would not thy evil be great? Either of these might be given as the sense in certain connections. הֲלֹא may express doubt, as in 1 Samuel 21:12 : “Is this David the king?” or “can this be David the king?” It may be a true interrogative seeking information, as 1 Kings 1:2; or it may be a form of most positive assertion, as Numbers 23:26 : “Did I not surely tell thee?” or it may be rendered “perhaps,” as in Deuteronomy 31:17, or “it may be,” denoting conjecture, 1 Samuel 20:37 : “Perhaps the arrow is beyond thee.” There are two strong arguments for the conjectural or hypothetical rendering here—one contextual or circumstantial, the other grammatical. 1st. All the facts of the case are most clearly against the positive or indicative rendering. Though the form is interrogative, it would, in fact, if thus taken, be the most emphatic way of saying, not only that “Job’s wickedness was great, and his sins innumerable,” but that all the world knew it, and that he himself, the very man appealed to, knew it as something that could not be denied. He is not only a sinner, but a most notorious one. Now this cannot be the meaning. It would, in the first place, be in direct contradiction with the clearest assertions of the prologue: “a man pure and upright, fearing God, and departing from evil.” It would, 2d, be inconsistent with the action of the friends themselves, who doubtless knew his reputation for righteousness and purity throughout the East, and who had, therefore, come so far to console him. 3d. It would be at war with that dramatic propriety of which some talk so much, that they should thus fall upon him, especially Eliphaz, who, in what he says Job 4:3-4; Job 4:6, had affirmed all these views of Job’s religion and known integrity. Everything shows that they had formed, and had good reasons for forming, the highest estimate of his moral worth. When and where had they learned the contrary, that he must speak so positively and so undoubtingly about Job’s crimes? See Note Int. Theism, pa. 32. It is a difficulty which Ewald strongly feels. “Whence,” says he, p. 225, “did Eliphaz derive his knowledge of the gross sins he ascribes to Job? Had he detected him in any such acts? Or could he bring any witnesses in proof of his charges? Impossible ! Not only the whole book, but God himself directly contradicts it.” Cocceius had taken the ground that the charges were in their nature conjectural. Umbreit treats this idea with contempt, and yet hardly seems aware of the immense difficulties that attend the other view of a strong positive assertion. Rosenmueller and others proceed in the same way. The conjectural supposition, however, is the most natural. Eliphaz did not know of any such crimes; he had no proof; he sought none; refers to none. The zeal, however, enkindled in the course of the dispute, led him to think there might be sins unknown, and which, perhaps, had slipped from the memory of Job himself in the days of his prosperity. If there were any sins at all, then those specified, he might think, would be the very ones that a man of power (גבר) and property like Job would be most likely to fall into occasionally, whilst maintaining something of a general character for probity. To such the speaker’s partisan feeling would give a heightened coloring of atrocity. Still, they are all stated conjecturally or hypothetically, as the only means of accounting for the puzzling fact of his great losses and sufferings. Unjust as they are, yet, when thus viewed, the seeming accusations are stripped of much of their harshness. They may be the language of an injudicious and mistaken friend, especially moved to reproof because Job shows so little of acknowledgment and repentance. It is as though he had said to him: “There may be more evil in your case than you have probably thought; prosperity may have blinded your eyes; your sins may be אין קץ, not infinite in our mathematical sense of the term, but beyond your numbering—without estimate, that is, many more, and greater, than you have thought.” In his vehemence Eliphaz uses hyperbolical language, but not intended to be taken literally in the sense of actual infinity, or even of anything beyond numbering. Then there is the grammatical argument. The כי following, both as expressed in ver. 6, and implied in the 7th, and others succeeding, is dependent on הֲלֹא above: may it not be the case that? Then, in the verses following, it becomes specificative or illustrative of the general charge: “May not thy wickedness be so great, that during thy prosperous, unthinking life, thou mayest have wrongly taken a pledge from some poor man, stripped off a garment, not given water to the thirsty traveller, have sent away the widow unredressed, and even, in some cases, wronged the orphan?” There is an air of particularity about them, as though tentative of Job’s conscience, that seems very much to favor the idea that these are just what Cocceius calls them, conjectural and hypothetical. The view thus taken of כי, as specificative, alone furnishes a satisfactory reason for the futures תמנע ,תשקה ,תפשיט ,תחבל, that follow it in the succeeding clauses. The conditional hypothesis, making the construction the subjective, or consequential in the thought, alone accounts for them: “Would not thy wickedness be great,” as הלא רעתך רבה may be rendered, or “would it not be great wickedness in thee,” that thou shouldst take, or shouldst have taken a pledge,” etc. If, on the other hand, we take כי, ver. 6, as independent, or render it for or because, it would not be easy to show a reason why the verb should not have been in the preterite (חָבַלְתָּ); just as in Job 15:25 (which, on that view, would be a precisely similar case),כי is followed by נָטָה, and in ver. 26 by כִּסָּה. The only reason that can be given for the different form of the tenses here is that כי is truly dependent on the conjectural הלא above, whilst the futures are dependent on the specifying power of the particle here carrying the conjecture all through. The 8th verse is parenthetical, and in ver. 9 we have a preterite שִׁלַחְתָּ, “thou hast sent away;” but such an intervening change is not only explicable grammatically, as affected by the previous parenthetical movement, but also rhetorically, as denoting the zeal of the speaker, carried away by his own vivid suppositions, and coming almost to look upon them as actual facts. In regard to these futures, translators and commentators have always found a difficulty if כי was to be rendered absolutely. The whole case is very clearly and concisely stated by Junius as cited in Poole’s Synopsis: Quia status harum criminationum conjecturalis est, et magis in presumptionibus quam certis probationibus positus, futuro utitur: pignus acceperis, nudaveris, etc. In the question, “is not,” or “may not thy evil be great?” there may be a looking back to the previous reflections as well as to the supposed changes that follow. It may refer to that idea of trafficking with God (ver. 2), or getting gain to one’s self from some profiting we may have fancied to accrue to Him from our defective virtue. Something like this is the idea of Good, who contends that תחבל, and the other futures that follow בי, should be rendered: “Thou wouldst oppress,” “Thou wouldst strip,” etc. That is, a man wicked enough (in the estimation of Eliphaz) to vindicate himself as Job does (or to think of profiting God by his religion) might be supposed capable of committing all these acts.” There is a connection between רעה, the evil here (ver. 5), and the religion and righteousness mentioned above, as the things by which Eliphaz would represent Job as claiming to be profitable to God. Even admitting that there might be some such an outstanding account, though far less than Job perhaps imagined, still, in the judgment of Eliphaz, there was another balance to be settled: “Thine evil, too, may be very great,” as well as thy religion by which thou thinkest to bring God into thy debt. All this is very unjust to Job, as we see it; but it prepares the way very naturally for the conjectural or hypothetical style of what follows. Following this connection, we find a demand for the repetition of the same particle, הְלא, as essential to the complete sense of the sixth verse: “May it not be that thou hast taken a pledge of thy brother for nought?” If its force goes through all these specifications, as both the context and the grammar require (that is, the future forms), then it actually belongs to the translation in each one, as something essential to its fair expression, and not as merely paraphrastic or explanatory. So Cocceius justly regards it, and, therefore, inserts fortassis: Num fortassis pignus cepisti a fratribus tuis sine causa, etc. To which he adds the note: Conjecturaliter et disjunctive explico, nulla repugnante grammatica, ne crudeliores sententias, quam ipsi amici, in Jobum cudam. Instead of nulla grammatica repugnante, Cocceius might have said: grammatica revera postulante. So, too, ver. 8 is to be taken as language ascribed to Job by Eliphaz: (Hast Said) the land is for the strong; not in so many words, but as indicated by his supposed deeds, which, the accuser would say, speak louder than words. Thou hast acted as though the land belonged to the strong. It is “the language of the case,” to use a technic of the Arabian Grammarians. It represents the supposed spirit of the one thus spoken of. Thus Rabbi Tanchum in his Arabic Commentary on Lamentations 3:36, maintains that the Hebrew words אַדֹנָי לֹא רָאָה, the Lord not see it (badly rendered by E. V., the Lord approveth not), is, in fact, the language of the wicked to themselves, and not of the prophet, as our translation makes it with a great force upon ראה. “ To subvert a man in his cause,—the Lord does not see it;” so their actions say. If this general view be correct, then the conjectural or hypothetical idea goes also into the conclusion, ver. Job 10 : Wherefore, it may be, snares are round thee spread. Otherwise it would seem like judicial exultation over the misery of Job. It does not, however, relate so much to the fact as to the conjectural reason: It may be that acts like these are the cause of all your trouble. Aside from the grammatical reasons, it may be truly said, that we are absolutely forced to some such view of the hypothetical character of these statements in order to avoid the most revolting supposition of such charges being directly and positively made without a particle of evidence. The warmth of disputation may have very naturally led to an uncharitable expression of suspicion and of harsh suppositions; but all beyond this is a violation of dramatic, as well as of moral, and logical consistency. EXCURSUS V ON THE HEBREW WORD תּוּשִׁיָּה As occurring Job 6:13; Job 11:6; Job 12:16, and especially Job 26:3. This word is used not only by the Chokma writers, as they are called, but also by the Prophets. Like other Hebrew words of intelligence, it denotes both a form of truth and also the faculty of the mind that perceives it—being, in this respect, like our word reason. That it has the former aspect, Job 26:3, appears from the verb הוֹדָעְתָ and the parallelism which demands for it the sense of teaching. Hence an objection to Ewald’s rendering, feste Einsicht, in that place, as well as to the Verständiges of Dillman and Zöckler. As denoting a power or state of mind, Anschauung would have been a better word. As a form of truth, it is the highest which the Hebrew language affords, unless it be the more general term חכמה regarded as including it. This is seen from its associations. Thus in Proverbs 3:21 it is something higher than מְזִמָּה, sagacity, prudence; Proverbs 8:14 (rendered in E. V. sound wisdom) it is joined with בִּינָה and עֵצָה; Proverbs 18:1, it is the speculative, contemplative wisdom, to which the recluse (נִפְרָד) so earnestly devotes himself. It is ascribed to God, Isaiah 28:29, and in a still more remarkable manner, Job 12:16 (see Note thereon). Truth is the best rendering, if we take that word in its highest and broadest sense for the reality of things (see Webster’s definition), or the truth fixed and necessary, in distinction from the flowing, the apparent, the phenomenal. Delitzsch well defines it from J. H. Michaelis as vera et realis sapientia, although in his version he seems to limit its force. The objection is that this is too metaphysical for the Book of Job, or as J. D. Michaelis states it, nimis a vulgari sensu remota. Such words, he goes on to say, philosophi in scholis condunt non plebs: “schoolmen make them, not the people.” But this only shows that he himself was no metaphysician, in the true sense of the term. What is the sensus vulgaris? The highest forms of truth have their seat in the common mind, as is shown by the fact, that language ever, in some way, makes names (the names that are wanted) before philosophy, as such, is ever heard of. The contemplative soul of Job was as capable of such an idea as that of Michaelis. Plato’s distinction of the ὄντα and the γιγνόμενα, or real being as distinguished from the phenomenal, or ever-changing, is one that belongs to every thoughtful mind. Paul makes it, 2 Corinthians 4:18, though carrying it to a sublimer height than Plato: “the things seen and the things unseen,” the temporal and the eternal; the latter not simply unseen as absent from a present personal sense, but as in their very being supersensual. By giving, moreover, this higher and wider sense to תושיה, there is brought out the contrast evidently intended in the two clauses of Job 26:3 : the first, the teaching of the unlearned, or the practical, the second, the more speculative or contemplative wisdom—the truth of things in their widest sense (לָרֹב). The old derivation of this word was from יש the undeclinable substantive verb, as οὐσία (essence, being) is made from εἰμί, ὤν in Greek. Gesenius departs from this; but the best commentators such as Delitzsch, Ewald, et al., have come back to it, making its true etymological sense to be substantia, ὑποστασις, the solid, the real—true being (see Delizsch on this verse). So the Jewish Rabbinical writers have regarded it. In their philosophical discussions, they use the תושיה of the Old Scriptures as their term for the super-sensual wisdom or philosophy. From it they have also made a technical distinction among philosophers or wise men (חכמים). They are the חכמי תושיה, the metaphysici, the speculative thinkers in distinction, from the חכמי המחקר, the Physici, or natural philosophers who proceed by experiment and induction (see Buxtorf Lex. Chald. 990, 819). Compare Paul’s expression, 1 Corinthians 1:20, συζητητὰι τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου, seekers, inquirers, experimenters (Naturforscher) of this world. Thus also is it used by such Jewish writers as Levi Βen Gerson. Philosophical words formed in this way from the old Hebrew are not fanciful or arbitrary. The idea on which they are founded are in the root words, and they came to the Rabbinical writers out of the demand for them as our own scientific, philosophical, or theological words derived from the Greek and Latin. Fuerst also gives the sense substantia. See Notes on Job 5:12; Job 6:13; Job 12:16. ______________ EXCURSUS VI Job 26:5-7 The Shades In Sheol. Abaddon, Or The World Below Sheol. Job’s View Of The Position Of The Mundus, And Of The Earth. In chapter 25, Bildad had been holding forth on God’s glories in the worlds above, and His knowledge of celestial things. It would seem as though he meant to overawe and confound the unconfessing, impenitent man. Job turns the mind in another direction, or to the deeper mystery of the world below. All things, “in the earth, and under the earth,” as well as above the earth, lie naked before the eye of God. Thus ver. 5, though seeming abrupt and unconnected, forms the transition to this deeper and more mysterious region. The argument is that He sees the lowest and most hidden things, as well as the celestial hosts, the καταχθόνιοι as well as the ἐπουράνιοι. It is place, therefore, rather than events, or descriptions of things contained, that is mainly thought of. On this account, the adverb where is not a superfluity in the translation, but a necessary link in the association of thought. The “giant shades” represent the world they inhabit, and all the more impressively from the sudden way in which Job mentions them after his brief reproof of Bildad’s declamation. This is the view of Mede as given in Poole’s Synopsis: Locus ubi antiqui gigantes lugent sub aquis; infernus et locus perditionis patet oculis Dei. He compares it with Proverbs 15:11 : “Sheol and Abaddon are before the Lord.” In both passages Abaddon is the deeper, the darker, the more returnless place. It is the Locus Perditionis, the world of the lost. As thus designating place generally (the world below and the world lowest of all), it leaves a secondary question how far this is mythical, legendary, so regarded by the speakers themselves, or to what extent it was actually believed. It may be used as Paul uses καταχθόνιοι Php 2:10 : “things or beings below the earth,” in distinction from those above, without our supposing in him a knowledge of the Antipodes, or of an actual world below. It is used to denote the great depths and their possible inhabitants, in distinction from the visible things in the heavens, or as a comprehensive mode of denoting all beings “above the earth, and on the earth, and under the earth.” The word רפָאִים is undoubtedly used for manes, umbrœ, the shades, supposed to inhabit the under-world. This comes directly from the primary sense of weakness in רפא when used for רפה. The רפאים, the weak, the powerless. It immediately suggests Homer’s κάμοντες as applied to the dead, the wearied, or εἴδωλα καμόντων, the images, umbrœ, or shades of the deceased. For a similar use of this word in Hebrew see Isaiah 14:10; Isaiah 26:14; Isaiah 26:19; Psalms 88:11; Proverbs 2:18; Proverbs 9:18; Proverbs 21:16. What makes a seeming difficulty, however, is the fact that the same term is used for a race of giants, as in Genesis 24:5; Genesis 15:20; Isaiah 17:5. This naming may have come from some law of contrary association, such as frequently influences language. They were called the feeble very much as the Greek called the Furies Ευμενίδες, the kindly ones, the gracious powers. Here, in fact, the true force of the passage is best given by combining the two ideas: the once mighty men of old now feeble, wailing ghosts. Such a tradition of mighty rebellious powers engaged in a contest with heaven, defeated and cast down, was certainly in the world, and in the most ancient mythologies. The question may arise, whether it is to be regarded as referring to the old antediluvian giants (the “men of renown” mentioned Genesis 6), or to some such war with the higher powers as is shadowed in the Greek fables of the conflict between the gods and the giants, or the gods and the Titans, the latter the helpers of Kronos when dethroned by Zeus, and hurled down beneath the waters of the abyss, as related in Æsch. Prom. Vinct. Job 219: Ταρτάρου μελαμβαθὴς Κευθμὼν καλύπτει τὸν παλαιγενῆ Κρόνον Αὐτοῖσι συμμάχοισι: The deep black pit of Tartarus that hides The old-born Kronos with his helping hosts. Compare 2 Peter 2:4 : “God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, (ταρταρώσας, a word taken from this Greek mythical language), and delivered them unto chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.” The New Testament writings (Jude 6, 2; 2 Peter 2:4, and passages in the Revelations) show that the idea of such a conflict existed before the birth of our Saviour, and might be called universal in the world, Jewish as well as heathen—going back, perhaps, if we may judge from the manner of those Apostles speaking of it, and quoting old authorities, to a most remote antiquity. Some great event of the kind, whether regarded as having taken place in the heavenly or in the earthly sphere, seems to have made a deep impression upon the primitive mind in whatever way it was revealed or traditionally transmitted. Hence all early mythology is so full of it, however monstrous and grotesque the forms it has assumed. The Bible has the least to say about it; but the few indications it does give are, on that very account, the more fearful in their character: “The giants groan beneath the waters”—“delivered unto chains of darkness”—“reserved unto the judgment.” There is nothing in the Hesiodean and Homeric Tartarus, or in the stories of Tityus, Sisyphus, and Tantalus, or in the corresponding horrors of Indian and Scandinavian myths, to be compared with this veiled language of perdition and despair. In this passage the Rephaim, or giant shades, are represented as suffering extreme anguish (יחוללו, writhing, torture, travail), and this shows that the reference to them is that of a special case, as of some awful example, and not to the shades generally, who are described as quiescent, inert, rather than as suffering. In the rendering “deep Abaddon,” ver. 6, the epithet is justified by the evidently intended contrast. Abaddon is lower than Sheol, or the underworld. Or if included in the latter term, it is its deepest department, and, in every respect, a more mysterious conception. They are not tautologies. Abaddon seems to bear something of the same relation to Sheol that Tartarus, in Homer, bears to Hades. Compare the Iliad Job 8:13 : ἐς Τάρταρον ἠερόεντα, Τῆλε μάλ, ἧχι βάθιστον ὑπὸ χθονός ἐστι βέρεθρον· Τόσσον ἔνερθ Ἀίδεω ὃσον οὐρανός ἐστ’ ἀπό γαὶης: —Down to rayless Tartarus, Deep, deep, in the great Gulf below the earth, As far beneath the Shades as earth from heaven. —Bryant. Delitzsch says that Abaddon alternates with קֶבֶר, the grave, and cites Psalms 88:12. So in Job 28:22 it is mentioned in connection with מות; just as Death and Hades are mentioned together Revelation 1:18; Revelation 20:14. In the latter place, too, they are both represented, after Hades has given up the souls of the righteous, as being cast into that deeper place, “the lake of fire.” But in Psalms 88:12 the word is used as denoting, generally, all after death, or the most extreme world of death, if we may regard it as synonymous with the expression בְּבוֹר תַּחְתִּיּוֹת, in lacu inferno of ver. 7 just above. It should be borne in mind, however, that there (Psalms 88:12) the terms are taken metaphorically, to express the extremes of darkness and misery. Here, and in Proverbs 15:11 (as used in both cases with Sheol), it evidently makes a climax. The parallelism demands that it be taken as something beyond Sheol, deeper, darker, more hidden and mysterious, yet still open to the all-seeing eye. Comp. Psalms 139:8. So also in Deuteronomy 32:22, there appears this idea of a deeper underworld than Sheol, or of a deeper department of it, as it were, “beneath that lowest deep a deeper still:” “For a fire is kindled in mine anger, and shall burn עַד שְׁאוֹל תַּחְתִּיּוֹת, to the lowest hell,” LXX. ἕως Ἄιδου κατωτὰτου. It may be said, that this is merely imagery; but what did it all come from? In Job 31:12 this word is again taken figuratively to denote the deepest destruction “It would be like a fire (the sin of adultery there mentioned) that would consume even to Abaddon” (comp. Proverbs 5:8). It was the moral feeling that carried the imaginations of Jews and Greeks in both directions, up and down. The world must be as deep as it is high. So the Greeks had their spheres above spheres, even to the Empyrean, whilst, in the other direction, the idea of Hades was not complete unless Tartarus was placed beneath it. In like manner, the Hebrew mind had its “heavens” in the plural (Genesis 1:1), then its “heaven of heavens,” and its third heavens (the Rabbins afterwards made them fifty). The complement of the idea was needed. Up and down are, indeed, relative terms, and so thinking men, from Solomon to Aristotle and Newton, have ever regarded them. But the ideas they typify are real. It is felt that there must be in the great system of things a profundity corresponding to the altitude, an evil to the good, a darkness, a risk, and a loss, forming a counterpart to the light, the hope, and the glory. This carried the mind in the opposite direction, first to the grave, then to Sheol, then to Abaddon or the lacus infernus, בּוֹר תַּחְתִּיּות, below all. There can be no doubt that from this came much of the imagery of the Revelation In that book (chap Job 9:11), the name Abaddon is given to the Power of the place, rather than to the place itself; it makes it the King of the Abyss, βασιλέα τῆς ἀβύσσου; whence he is also called Απολλύων (Apollyon) the Destroyer; but it is the same idea and the same destruction. Even in the Old Testament, as may be learned from passages in Job and the Psalms, there was connected with Sheol some idea of deliverance: “Thou wilt not leave my soul in Hades;” but Abaddon was total perdition: “the way of the wicked (Psalms 1:6) shall perish, תֹּאבֵד; that is, it leads to Abaddon, the world of irrecoverable ruin. As is argued in the Introd. Theism, pa. 13; there is, in the Old Testament, a veil cast over the whole idea of existence after death, or over Sheol itself. Still more dense is the covering that enshrouds Abaddon; but even in the Old Scriptures there are, now and then, glimpses of the remoter fearful ruin, too frequently passed over as merely metaphorical. So in the Greek mythology there are cases of return from Hades, however rare and exceptional, but from Tartarus there was no deliverance; the lost were there forever, τὸν ἀεὶ χρόνον (see Plato, Rep. 615, B. Gorg. 525 c). So far, however, as the Scriptures, whether Old or New, give us glimpses of this awful state, it is not one of extinction or annihilation. The figures all point the other way to the idea of existence in perdition. It is ἀπώλεια, utter destruction. It is the world of the perished, of the lost (perditorum). In a word it is אֲבַדּוֹן, existence still having place and state, but one of total and irretrievable disorganization. In verse 7, Job comes back from Hades and Abaddon to the earth and the mundus above. By the North is primarily indicated the north pole of the heavens which seems lifted up and impending over emptiness. Over nothing; improperly rendered, upon nothing; עַל בְּלִימָה, upon not anything; בלי and מה as מה and מה in מאומה, anything whatever. It immediately suggests the description of Ovid, Met. i. Job 11 : Pen dens in aere tellus Ponderibus librata suis. No wonder need be felt at this language of Job, as though expressing an idea peculiarly modern. No thoughtful mind could ever contemplate the sun’s setting in the evening West, and its rising, a few hours after, in the morning East, without the thought of its having gone under the Earth, or of the Earth’s having turned over. Even this latter view was more ancient than the days of Pythagoras, who had the Copernican idea of the solar system, derived as is supposed, from the Egyptians, or the East. See Note on Ecclesiastes 1:5 and Psalms 19:6 (Lange Com., Vol. x., p. 38), where the sun is represented as “panting” up “the eastern steep.” From this there must have been the conception of an underside, at least, to the earth, or of a body lying in space, with space all around it. Zöckler says: “We must not think of a ball, but of a circular plate or disk;” but he has no authority for saying this. The Latin orbis terrarum is a very different idea, and has a different origin from the appearance of the visible horizon. Once depart from the notion of an indefinitely extended plane, or conceive of a body lying in space, and there is immediately suggested the spherical figure, or something like it. This is not only because it is easiest in its conception (the Scheibe of Zöckler, a flat plate figure, wabbling in space, being difficult as well as incongruous), but because it is, theoretically, the most perfect figure for the mind’s contemplation, as Aristotle reasons in his very clear and conclusive argument (Book, De Cœlo, lib. ii. 13, 14) for the sphericity of the Earth, made long before the days of Columbus. The same thinking has led some, in modern times, to the idea of a spherical Universe. We need not, moreover, give ourselves any difficulty about the apparent inconsistency between this more correct view and the merely phenomenal one, ver. 10, or what is said about the “pillars of the earth,” Job 9:6, or attempt to explain it, as Zöckler does, by making pillars mean something inside the Earth, as its bones or skeleton. In ancient, as well as in modern, times, the poetical or phenomenal conception existed side by side with the more contemplative idea,—if the latter is not, indeed, the more poetical of the two when held without its prosaic arithmetic. Byron speaks of the “sun setting on the wide, wide sea,” just as Homer does. Neither is there any occasion here to talk about the absurdity of some ancient ideas in respect to the Earth’s support, such as that presented in the old worn-out lecturer’s stories of the Earth on the elephant, and the elephant on the tortoise. Men who say that Gravitation supports the Earth—going no further than the name, or its mathematical calculus—are guilty of an equal absurdity; or rather, all the worse, we might say, for the seriousness of its pretension, whereas the old explanations referred to have something of a jocular air about them. Raschi gives us a grand idea here. The support of the world, he says, is ‎‎חזוק זרועותיו ,של הקב׳׳ה “the strength of the arms of the Holy One, blessed be He.” The reference is to Deuteronomy 33:27, מִתַּחַת זְרֹעֹת עוֹלָם, “underneath are the everlasting arms,” or the “arms of Olam,” the “arms of the world,” the arms that hold up the world, whether it be the world in space or the world in time (Olamic, œonian). Rabbi Levi Ben Gerson explains it metaphysically: בְּלִימָה, he says, “is the centre of the earth, called nothing, because it is nothing in itself, being only a point in position, and yet the supporting and supported point of the whole.” In the next verse, there is the same essential mystery as in the suspended earth: the waters in the cloud maintaining their equilibrium in the air. Ver. 7. The world. So ארץ is best rendered here, as in Proverbs 8:31 (תֵּבֵל אַרְצֹו), and in some other places, where it seems to be put for the visible mundus of which the Earth is the centre, or on which the sky is built (1 Samuel 2:18). In Psalms 18:16, תֵּבֵל is used for the Earth, and so in Psalms 93:1, and some other places (“the round world” as the English Church Psalter renders it). The view connects itself with the visible celestial sphere, and thus the second clause is only an extension of the first: the North Pole over the void, or the whole mundus conceived as having the earth for its nucleus, and thus, as a whole, hanging over nothing. This would not be in conflict with the more limited view of the Earth as itself unsupported in space. It may be called the tellurian rather than the simply terrestrial idea, or than the terraqueous conception, the Earth lying upon the encircling waters, which Delitzsch attaches to the idea. EXCURSUS VII On The Positions And Connections Of Job 27, 28, 29, 30 Chapter 25 closes the speeches of the friends. In ch. 26 Job replies directly to Bildad. Ch. 27 begins what may be called his closing Vindication, which may be divided into six parts: 1st. Job’s solemn oath by way of protest against the charges really or seemingly made: ch. Job 27:1 to Job 11:2 d. His picture of the wicked man and his doom, Job 27:11 to the end of the chapter. This may be regarded as a more careful statement of the case, and, to some extent, a retractation of former extravagant positions into which he had been driven by the criminations of his opponents, grounded, as they were, upon the opposite extreme (see Excursus II., page 7). 3d. A meditation on the unsearchableness of the divine wisdom as compared with the deepest discoveries of natural and human knowledge, ch. 28 It may be rightly called a meditation, or soliloquy, because it seems addressed to no one, and, taken by itself, would give little or no intimation of any other human presence. Such a character, too, might be given to it from its apparent lack of open logical connection with the chapter immediately preceding. Its emotional connection, however, it is not difficult to trace. More than any direct assertion would have been, is it an admission, by the one who thus soliloquizes, that he has been rash in his complaints of the divine procedure. He “has uttered what he understood not, things too wonderful for him that he knew not,” as he afterwards more expressly confesses, Job 42:3. Its connection is also seen from its leading him, at the close of the chapter, to that submission in which he describes the highest wisdom of man to be “the fear of the Lord, and departure from evil.” 4th. A touching reminiscence of his former prosperity and standing among men—most pathetic indeed, but free from any murmuring spirit, or any rebellious language, ch. 29 5th. A like impassioned representation of the contempt and neglect in which he is now held by the vile, and of the extreme misery of his condition, ch. 30 There are here a few touches of the old feeling, but presented in an exquisitely natural way: “God is hard toward him” (ver. 21), “His hand is still against him;” but, in the main, the spirit of the sufferer is subdued, though exceedingly mournful, and never wholly lapses from that better tone which had come to it from the rapturous hope of the divine presence and reconciliation, Job 19:25 to Job 27:6 th. A most eloquent assertion of his integrity, with a glowing recital of the deeds by which it had been manifested, and a most indignant denial of the charges made against him. Then Elihu speaks, whom we may suppose to have been present, with others probably, during the whole debate. But the most remarkable among these six intervening chapters is the 28. The connection, too, between it and the others is the least easily traced. Chapter 26 had been a reply to Bildad in his own style. Chapter 27 was addressed, in a more general manner, to all three of the disputants; but here, in ch. 28, Job seems occupied almost wholly with his own thoughts. Chapters 29, Job 30:31, again betray the presence of others to whom they seem to be addressed, and by a consciousness of which their mode of thought and utterance seems to be in a measure influenced. Here in ch. 28 the speaker seems to be all alone, so far as any outward indications are concerned, or to be talking only to himself and God. This justifies us in calling it a soliloquy, and in expecting, consequently, an emotional rather than a strictly logical connection. It drives us, also, to the supposition of an interval of silence between the last words of ch. 27, “Men shall hiss him out of his place” (or indeed, the whole picture presented in the latter portion of that chapter), and the כי which so startlingly commences the 28th.: “For there is a vein—yes, surely—there is a vein for the silver,” &c. We would be more struck with, this if we always read the two parts continuously, or without that break which is made by the division into chapters. Such interval of silence may be of the briefest duration, and yet, as is elsewhere observed, the thoughts may have travelled far—always, however, controlled and guided by the underlying feeling which seems never to leave the mind of Job. He is ever brooding over the mystery of suffering innocence, rather than of the impunity or the punishment of the wicked—ideas wholly subordinate to it. With this mystery, a meditation on the unsearchable wisdom of God, such as this chapter is occupied with, stands in closest connection. We are surprised at finding Delitzsch raising an objection to it on the ground, as he says, that “the chapter treats not so much of the wisdom of God as of the wisdom of men.” It is so, apparently, and as far as mere quantity is concerned, but surely this is only preparatory to the great conclusion. From the very beginning, the other idea, with the ever underlying thought that leads to it, has been in the speaker’s mind. The secrets of nature, and the human explorations of nature, are brought in, and dwelt upon at such length, only to impress more strongly on the mind the contrast presented by the deeper mystery,—only to make more startling the question: “Where, then, shall wisdom be found ?” the great, the all-explaining wisdom. The mention of the silver in the beginning is only one of the illustrative facts or examples, having, in itself, no more to do with the connection of thought than “the iron,” or “the stone of darkness,” or the “bread that cometh out of the earth.” It is altogether too slight, therefore, when Delitzsch would make the connection to consist in the mention of the silver here as suggested by the כסף, the bad man’s silver, mentioned Job 27:12; as though this had been retained in mind through all the following verses, and had suggested the deep train of thought which so distinguishes ch. 28. Only keep in view the peculiar character of Job’s speeches, their soliloquizing tendency at all times, and this tendency now increased by the silence, or withdrawal, of the other speakers,—only keep this steadily in mind, and we have the explanation, as we diffidently think, in search of which so many commentators have taken so many different ways. Why do the innocent suffer? It is ever on his mind. The question is a most difficult one, even when viewed in the fullest light afforded by the Gospel. In some of its aspects it is absolutely appalling: Why do the innocent suffer? Not merely the virtuous man, so called, who is only comparatively righteous: why do children suffer? why do infants suffer? Or, admitting them to have a connection with the common depravity, and the common guilt, why do they suffer so severely? more severely, in some respects, than others; since no diseases are so painful, no deaths so agonizing, to appearance, as those that are sometimes endured when these young, vigorous, acutely-feeling human lives are quenched. The term is not too strong. It is, indeed, a most appalling mystery, at which science, so-called, should lay her hand upon her mouth, and confess her total ignorance, instead of the foolish, stammering talk in which she sometimes indulges about “natural laws,” and certain dim, far-fetched utilitarian ends of pain—thereby only “darkening counsel by words without knowledge.” What problem in nature is to be compared with the moral mystery of the dying infant—dying, agonizing, in the very presence of that science which has so much to say about the Kosmos, and knows so little about the human body with its deep springs of life and death! Why do the innocent suffer? God only knows—as the old ante-Koranic Arabians were so accustomed to say. Why do I suffer so, says Job—suffer so much more than other men? The higher wisdom of God alone can solve the problem; and to this he turns from that picture of the wicked man which in itself presents so little mystery. The deepest things in nature, as viewed in the light of any science, modern as well as ancient, present only a step in this remoter inquiry: “But where shall wisdom be found, and where is this place of understanding?” “The eagle’s eye (the personification of the keenest sense-intelligence) hath not seen it;” “the Deep saith it is not in me, the Sea saith it is not in me;” nature doth not reveal it. “It is not found in the land of the living;” history does not make it known; the search carries the mind beyond the present world of being; “Abaddon and Death say we have barely heard with our cars a rumor” of the mighty secret. “But God knoweth the way thereof.” He who gave nature her decrees—“He who made a law for the rain, and a way for the thunder’s flash”—can alone look through nature, and beyond nature, to the remotest ends for which she herself was ordained; and it is He “who saith unto man that, for him, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to depart from evil (moral evil) that, for him, is understanding.” This is the train of thought that springs up at the commencement of ch. 28, or during the brief silent interval, so charged with emotion, that precedes it. The unspoken link connects the two chapters more closely than any formal, logical, or grammatical bond, and the כי, which the silent thought suggests, is the transition note that takes us into the higher modulation: “Yes, so it is—yea, truly so it is:”— For silver, there’s a vein, A place for gold which they refine. The iron from the dust is brought, And copper from the molten stone. To (nature’s) darkness (man) is setting bounds; Unto its end he searcheth everything,— The ore of darkness, where the death shade dwells. But Wisdom! where shall it be found? That wisdom of which man knows not “the place nor price,” which “gold and pearls can never buy.” Why do we suffer so? To this deep cry of humanity nature returns no answer. God only knows. The acknowledgment of this is the highest human wisdom, as submission to it is the clearest human duty. Among all the emendations proposed on account of the alleged want of connection between chap. 28 and chap. 27, as they stand, no one seems more plausible than that of Pareau (Commentatio De Immortalitatis ac Vitœ Futurœ Notitiis ab Antiquissimo Jobi Scriptore, pp. 246–250). He would simply make the two chapters change places. In one aspect of the case, his reasoning might seem entitled to very serious consideration. As he says: “Any one who reads chap. 28 directly after chap. 26, must admit that there is a very natural and easy conjunction—sentiet ipse tantam esse in utroque et consilii et argumenti conjunctionem, ut nexus facilitas in oculos incurrat. What is said in chap. 26 about the greatness and mystery of the divine works, God’s seeing into the Underworld, His glorious beauty in the heavens, and especially the closing thought that these “things that are seen” are but “the endings,” the outstandings, “of His ways,” leads most easily to the train of thought carried on in the first part of chap. 28, and to the transition thence to the unsearchableness of the divine wisdom. But then, again, after giving all due weight to this, we find immense difficulties in the other direction. In the first place, it is not easy to discover the nexus between chap. 28 and chap. 27 regarded as coming right after it. The calming, solemnizing, most sublime, yet tender meditation which closes the one, followed immediately, in uno tenore, or without any interval, by the oath and vehement, if not angry, protest which so mark the commencement of the other. Let a man read them continuously, uno tenore legat, as Pareau says, and he cannot but feel that there is a want of harmony both in the thought and in the diction: “The fear of Adonai, man’s only wisdom,” and in the next breath a charging God with delay or denial of justice, if not an unjust decision in respect to the right of his cause. This cannot be. “Dramatic propriety,” to say nothing of anything else, would demand that between two such declarations there should be some considerable interval of time, marked by the intervention of new trains of thought. In the second place, there is a still greater inharmoniousness between the latter part of the 27th and the beginning of the 29th, which, according to the proposed change, would immediately succeed it: The downfall of the rich wicked man, vividly and even exultingly drawn, and the touching picture of his own happiness in days that are past: Ch. Job 27:21. The east wind lifts him up, and he is gone; A tempest steals him in the night away; Ver. 22. God hurls his bolt against him; Ver. 23. Men clap their hands, And hiss him from his place. Job 29:1. O that I were as in the moons of old, As in the days when God took care of me. There may be no direct contradiction; but every reader must feel that that there is a sad discord in it when thus presented. On the other hand, nothing would seem to be more natural, or more fitting, than the emotional transition from this closing meditation of the 28th, as it stands, and the pathetic wish that opens the 29th, although most likely with a brief interval between them. For there, too, is the inserted textual scholium: “And Job again resumed his parable;” resumption certainly implying some intervening silence. The train of thought, to one who enters into the emotion, is unmistakable: “Man’s wisdom is the fear of the Lord; to depart from evil is his understanding.” It makes him think of his own case, of his own perfect submission to the Divine Wisdom, 1:21, and this not in a boastful or self-righteous way, but from a reminiscence which only a false or feigned humility would repel. “A man fearing God and departing from evil;”—just such a man he had aimed to be; just such a man God himself had twice described him as being (יְרֵא אֱלֹהִים וְסָר מֵרָע, Job 1:1; Job 1:8). The “fear of the Lord;” that had been his religious life; “eschewing evil,” departing from evil, that had been his constant aim. How purely this appears in that touching practice of his described Job 1:5 : his rising early in the morning, and offering prayers and sacrifices for his children, lest, peradventure, in their hours of joy, they may have forgotten God. “This did Job continually” (כָּל הַיָּמִים “all his days”). And now that they are all dead and gone, swept away by a providence utterly inexplicable—now that his house lies desolate (Job 16:7), his reverential fear of God, his love of God, as Raschi says, continues still. At the end of this sublime meditation he again asserts it as man’s highest wisdom, his highest duty. He feels that it is his wisdom, his duty, now, as in the days of his prosperity: “But O that it were with, me as in the moons of old,” When shone upon my head the lamp of God, And through the darkness, by its light I walked. For there had been shades even in that season of worldly happiness, as he himself intimates in the close of his opening lamentation; I was not confident; I did not feel secure; Nor did I careless rest; yet trouble came. In the language of the 131st Psalm: “His heart had not been haughty, nor his eyes lofty; neither had he walked in ways too great or too wonderful for him.” The translator has made it his aim to adhere most strictly to the Hebrew text and order; but if any change could be admitted, it would not be in the text, properly, but in the transition scholia that divide the chapters. These can hardly be said to belong to the text in the same manner as the speeches themselves. They are like the titles to the Psalms, or the note at the end of chap. 31, תַּמּוּ דִּבְרֵי אִיּוֹב, “the words of Job are finished,” such as are found at the closing portions of old manuscripts, like the finis in modern books. Compare the end of Psalms 72. These may have been the work of the original writer; but they have more the appearance of scholia added by later transcribers, though before the time of the ancient versions. In either view, there is an essential difference between them and the text strictly. It should be noted, however, that these scholia, as they appear before chap. 27 and 29, have a peculiar word that is not found in the others: “Then Job resumed his parable, and said.” In the Hebrew it is מָשָׁל, mashal. If we keep the rendering parable, it must be understood as having two senses. Parable, παραβολὴ (παραβάλλω), is a placing side by side. The two things thus placed may be an outward allegorical fiction and the inner sense it represents. Or the figure may be wholly outward, referring, as it does here, to the style of the diction—a placing side by side two sentences similarly constructed and expressing similarity of idea. Thus regarded, the parable, or mashal (Latin similis) is synonymous with parallelism, that is the speaking or chanting in couplets. That it really was a kind of chanting, appears not only from the musical notes in the Psalms, but from the peculiar word here connected with it: “Job added” (resumed), שְׂאֵת מְשָׁלוֹ, “to lift up” (not simply take up) “his parable.” It was the lifting up the voice after a pause, and going on in the chanting measured movement, as Selah (סֶלֶה, a letting down, a pause, or silence) denoted the contrary proceeding. On the naturalness and facility of this in ancient times, and in the eastern world (notwithstanding its seeming strangeness to us), see remarks in the Introduction, or Argument on the Theism of the Book, pp. 41, 42. There would seem to be a propriety in having such a scholium of resumption, with its implied preceding pause, at the beginning of chap. 28, rather than of chap. 27; but a better way would be to regard it as coming in both places, as it occurs also at the commencement of chap. 29; and so the translator has ventured to give it. It should be noted, however, that these two scholia (chaps. 27 and 29) are peculiar in having this word. mashal (lifting up his mashal), as also from their occurrence, in this way, in the long talk of Job (26–31). It is after the others have ceased to respond, and when he goes on by himself, hardly seeming to heed their presence—being occupied, as it were, with his own deeper thoughts and deeper experience. Elsewhere they mark the close of particular speeches and the commencement of a reply. The fact noticed may be claimed as strongly confirming what the translator has said in other places about such soliloquizing pauses, and as showing that they were is the mind of the earliest writer, or, at least, of the earliest transcribers. ______________ EXCURSUS VIII On The References To Mining Operations In Certain Verses Of Job 28 And Especially The Difficulties Of Verses 4th And 5th An immense amount of commentary has been written on these passages, and especially ver. 4, which Schultens at first described as “Cimmerian darkness,” though afterwards he seems to have got more light upon it, which has been much used by others since his time. The ancient versions, LXX. and Vulgate, give us little or no help. The Syriac is more to be trusted; but the text there seems to be corrupt, as is apt to be the case with transcriptions of difficult passages. The old commentators, as given in Poole’s Synopsis of the Critica Sacra, seem to present irreconcilable variances. The later commentators, since the days of Schultens, agree in referring it to mining operations, in which they are undoubtedly right, as may be inferred, in a general way, from the first three verses, together with the 9th and 11th. The error, however, into which some have fallen, seems to consist in the minuteness of description they profess to find. Schultens, we think, first gave to דַּלוּ the rendering swings suspended, that is, in the shaft of the mine. It has a pretty good foundation etymologically. It is picturesque, moreover, and that made it at once a favorite. Later commentators have generally adopted it. It is, however, by no means certain. Not suspension generally, like תלה, but a vacillating, tottering motion, from side to side, seems to be the primary meaning of דלל, and the one which most readily explains its other applications. With this, however, suspension easily connects itself, and there mingle with it also certain senses derived from דלה (to draw, as from a well by letting down a bucket), which increase the resemblance. There is, however, no clear example of this sense of suspension, unless the present case is one. In Psalms 116:6, דַּלּוֹתִי is much better rendered: “I was weak (wavering, tottering, halting), and He saved me,” or I was relaxed. So in Proverbs 26:7, rendered by some, “the legs of the lame hang down” (Ges. crura dependent), there is much rather the sense of weakness, vacillation, tottering, and the thing compared to this (in the second clause), namely, “a proverb in the mouth of a fool,” well preserves its adaptedness: it (the proverb) has no force of steadiness in such a mouth. This, too, it should be noted, is nearer the form of דלה, though Gesenius tries to make it from דלל (דַּלְיוּ for דָּלְלוּ). In Isaiah 19:6, the full form of the word we have here is used of streams, and joined with חָרְבוּ (are dried up): דָּלְלוּ וְחָרְבוּ יְֹארֵי מָצוֹר. This suggests for the first verb the sense of diminution, or of weakness (languida sunt, Ges.); but it may, nevertheless, keep the primary meaning of deviation, vacillation. They present the phenomena of streams, of wadies, nearly dried up, with here and there a varying of the shallow channel, a running in devious ways, instead of the strong, direct flowing of a full river. Compare יִלָּפְתוּ, Job 5:18. The derivative meaning of דֶּלֶת, door (valva,) is clearly from the swaying sense without including that of suspension. So, too, the Arabic dalla has no such sense of suspension as Delitzsch ascribes to it. The derivative, daldal, is used to denote a vacillating motion, or swaying from side to side; but this comes from a sort of onomatopic analogy, such as may be recognized in our words dally and dalliance. The Arabic dala has the same meaning with the Hebrew דלה, to draw water by letting down a bucket. This might do here if we suppose דלל to borrow its meaning from it, as is not unfrequently the case with verbs similarly related. And thus we have rendered it generally in this place, swing themselves down, or “let themselves down,” without that forced idea of a narrow mining shaft, the great objection to which is, that it compels the forcing of other very familiar Hebrew words. It might denote a swinging from the rocks of their wild way, or from one precipice to another by means of ropes.951 The word נעו carries on the same general idea of wandering, roaming (see such passages as Amos 4:8; Amos 8:12; Jeremiah 14:10; Lamentations 4:15), and seems almost synonymous with נדד or נוד, denoting uniformly a moving from place to place. In Judges 9:9; Judges 9:11 (fable of Jotham), it seems to denote the swaying of the branches of trees; though the context would rather demand for it the sense of ruling, like sway in English (to bend, transitive or intransitive), of from some other analogy. It can hardly have there (Judges 9) this image of waving branches, since it is used of the vine as well as of the lofty, swaying trees. In neither respect, however, would it be suitable to this idea of a mining shaft, whilst in other, or roaming sense, so common, and almost universal, it would present a striking incongruity. In that case, too, גָּר and אֱנוֹשׁ would refer simply to the men above in their relation to the other regarded as below them in the shaft; a distinction, as it would seem, too narrow for terms so wide. It would be extravagant as applied to a separation so brief in time, and so short in space; whilst it would take away from that picture of remoteness and of solitary wandering which the whole contour of the passage seems to present. Even as regards our extensive modern minings it would be a gross hyperbole. It has been admitted that, in itself, this sense of suspension given to דַּלּוּ is not only picturesque, but seems to be possessed of a fair etymological ground. The objections arise from the context. Strongest among these is the necessity such a rendering creates of giving exceedingly forced sense, apparently Very unusual senses at least—to very plain and very common Hebrew words. It compels us to depart from that simple literal usage which, in such places as this, not unfrequently furnishes the best clue to the idea. We get the thought of something out of the way, and that leads us to overlook the plain sense of words as not adapted to it. So here, this pictorial fancy of suspension once entertained, there must be got for נַחַל the sense of shaft—a perpendicular or, sometimes, a horizontal hole dug or cut in the earth. It might be said, that the verb פרץ, taken transitively, is not well adapted to such an operation, meaning, as it generally does, a sudden bursting rupture or breaking. But waiving that consideration, there is no hazard in saying, that of such a sense for נַחַל not the least trace can be found in any use of the word in any passage of the Hebrew Scriptures, although it occurs more than a hundred times. It is a remarkably clear word, and its application to localities well known and visible such as the nahal Kedron, the brook or torrent Kedron, the nahal Kishon (nahal kedhumim, “that ancient river Kishon”), can leave no doubt in respect to its exact meaning. It is a valley, a ravine, or wady, with a torrent running through it which is often dried up, leaving the valley itself as chiefly represented by the word. See its frequent use in connection with proper names of such places: Nahal Eshcol, Nahal Arnon, Nahal Jabbok, etc. The mere fact of such marked geographical uses would have prevented its being applied to a thing so different as the perpendicular shaft of a mine. Delitzsch seems to feel this when he suggests the treatment of it here as a different word, with a different etymology: נַחַל from חלל, to bore, like חָלִיל, a pipe or flute; but this would be unexampled among Hebrew derivations, whilst it has no support whatever in any Arabic word or usage. It is the same necessity of accommodation to the intruded idea that compels a departure from the usual sense of גָּר before alluded to, and which, in its participle sense of temporary dweller or sojourner, does not differ from the other form, גֵּר, pilgrim or traveller. There is, too, the preposition מֵעִם in its double or intensive form (from, with), denoting a departure from the accustomed or the familiar, the traveler’s common track, into the wild and the unknown— Where breaks the valley from the pilgrim’s view, or from the dweller’s knowledge, whichever rendering we may give to it (see foot-note, Job 28:4).The whole style of the language favors this mode of viewing it: forgotten of the foot;952 רֶגֶל being used for the foot-worn way to which these wanderers (הנשכחים with the article) may be said to be lost, or which, as this most poetical diction presents it, has forgotten them. It is almost the language of Æschylus, Prom. Vinct: far removed, ἄβατον εἰς ἐρημίαν—away from the haunts of man, ἀπάνθρωπος (ver. 20), an almost verbal translation of the Hebrew מֵאֱנוֹשׁ. It is the same feeling that is created by the description of the Greek poet. There is about it all an air of solitariness and remoteness, inconsistent with any idea we can form of the shaft of a mine which is generally a well known and much frequented place. In ver. 5, there is the same general idea of the human inquisitiveness to which all else in this part of the chapter is subservient. It may refer to mining operations, or to a search for precious stones in caverns, or deep places of the earth, supposed to lie near the subterranean fires, and of which certain precious stones and metals were regarded, in some way, as the product. Here, also, a too narrow view, which would confine it to the first class of works, seems to have caused violence to the language of the passage, especially in the second clause. The הוּא חוֹקֵר of ver. 3, implied, as it is, all through ver. 4, is to be supplied in this: “He searches out,” or men search out: Earth’s surface (they explore) whence comes forth bread,— Its depths below, where it seems turned to fire. Its upper and lower regions are both the scenes of the human search for wealth or knowledge. All else in the language is used to express a contrast which does not seem to have been sufficiently attended to. It is that which ia supposed to exist between the products of the two regions—bread above and fire below, or rather something of the nature of fire, כְּמוֹ אֵשׁ, something fire-like, igneous, pyritic, pyrogenous, πυροειδὲς; this being the nearest way by which the Hebrew language could express what in Greek would be denoted by the qualifying termination ειδὴς953 attached to words. It makes quite a difference whether we take the particle כְּמוֹ, in this case, as qualifying the noun אֵשׁ, or the ver נֶהְפַּךְ: something like fire, which the speaker could describe in no other way, or turned up like fire, or as by fire, according to the view of some. כְּמוֹ may, indeed, be merely a particle of comparison when the context so demands: but here everything points the other way. It is the fire itself which is qualified: fire as it were; and so our English translators took it, though they seem to have expressed very obscurely whatever idea about it they may have had in their minds. In this view of כמו אש, it becomes very important to determine the force and relation of the verb נהפך. Does it denote some operation of the supposed miners, their turning up the bowels of the earth like fire (that is, as fire is turned, though that seems to give hardly any sense), or does it mean turning them up by means of fire? The objection to the latter view is grammatical. It would demand a preposition with אֵשׁ, or an established ellipsis of one. Such an ellipsis of ב does indeed occur in connection with words of time and place, as is common in language; but when it is wanted to denote instrument or means, it is met with only in peculiar cases, where the context is such as to allow no possible doubt, or where the instrument is identical with the verb in nature and in action: As, “They stoned of him stones” (Leviticus 25:23), or, “David was girded a linen girdle” (2 Samuel 6:14); or, “They sowed the city salt” (Judges 9:45). In such cases, it resembles, somewhat, the Greek idiom giving a bare accusative of the garment or sword after verbs of clothing or armor. So, too, words uttered, or sounds, may be treated as instruments without a preposition; as, “He cried a great cry” (Ezekiel 11:13), instead of, with a great cry. See other cases presented by Noldius, and involving the same principle. Such an expression, however, as turned up fire, meaning, turned up by fire, is wholly unexampled. So great has seemed this difficulty, that some would solve it by a different reading, בְּמוֹ instead of כְּמוֹ. Some who adopt this view of fire as the instrument, though with so little warrant, carry it out to the most minute details. It is fire as used in smelting, or for breaking rocks igne et aceto, as Rosenmueller holds. So Castalio (quoted by Rosenmuller): Agunt per magna spatia cuniculos, et terram subeunt, non secus ac ignis facit, ut in Ætna et Vesuvio. Delitzsch makes it “a turning and a tossing up of the earth as by fire;” and all this without any preposition, which is all the more demanded on account of the כמו, if the latter denotes a comparison of action having relation to the verb, instead of being qualificative of אש (“turned up,” כבאש, or כמו באש). A strong argument against this, aside from the others that have been mentioned, is derived from the nature of the verb הפך. A careful examination will show that the Niphal here, instead of denoting any action of miners, or of men in any way, simply expresses the contrariety between the two things mentioned, namely bread as the product of the surface, and the fire, or the igneous substances, the quasi fire (כמוֹ אש) that reveals itself, or its effects, in the depths below. To make this clear, there is need of adverting to a few preliminary facts. Such an idea of fire in the earth is not a product of modern science only. There are many reasons for regarding it as a very ancient notion. The appearance of volcanoes, whether in action or quiescent, must have early given rise to it; and we know, from modern explorations, that there must have been such in those regions of the world, even though Scripture, and other history, had been perfectly silent about it. But there are notices of it in the Bible. Sinai was probably a volcanic mountain, and it would be no derogation from the wonder of the Sinaitic lawgiving that God had chosen it on that very account. That similar phenomena were not unknown in Judea and Arabia, is evident from such passages as Psalms 104:32 : “He but looks at the earth and it trembles; He toucheth the mountains and they smoke.” Hence the old idea of subterranean rivers of fire, to which there may have been allusion in the נַחֲלֵו בְלִיַּעַל, rivers of Belial (torrentes inferni) of Psalms 18:5, the טִיט הַיָוֵן and the בּוֹר שָׁאוֹן, the “pit of noise,” or the roaring pit, of Psalms 40:3, the יְוֵן מְצוּלָה, Or “boiling mud” of Psalms 69:3, all of them, indeed, used metaphorically, but presenting primary ideas suggesting something very like the imagery by which Socrates, in the Phædo, 111, D, describes the subterranean regions: ἀεννάων ποταμῶν ἀμήχανα μεγέθη ὑπὸ τὴνγῆν, καὶ θερμῶν ὑδάτων, πολὺ δὲ πῦρ, καὶ πυρὸς μθγάλους ποταμούς, πολλοὺς δὲ ὑγροῦ πηλοῦ βορβορωδεστέρου: “immensemagnitudes of ever flowing rivers beneath the earth, and of boiling waters (בור שאון, the crater of noise, or the hollow resounding crater), and of vast fire, and of great rivers of fire, and many rivers of flowing mud boiling with turbulence.” We cannot keep out of our minds “the horrible pit and the miry clay,” by which the Scripture may be supposed to represent this awful conception of subterranean fire, and of boiling floods, with which it is mingled. There were volcanoes in the Arabian peninsula; the land of Idumea presents the strongest evidence of old eruptions, and they may have suggested to Job, or the author of Job, the same ideas that Ætna gave to Æschylus: ἐνθεν ἐκραγήσονταί ποτε Ποταμοὶ πυρὸς δάπτοντες ἀγρίαις γνάθοις, τῆς καλλικάρπου Σικελίας λευρὰς γύας. There is then a double contrast here : 1st, between the upper surface of the earth, called simply ארץ and the earth below, תחתיה 2d, between the productions of the surface, of which the bread is the general representative, and the fire, or quasi fire, which seems to affect the nature of things below, showing itself not only in the striking outward phenomena referred to, but in the subterranean productions, metals, precious stones, sapphires, etc., supposed to have in them more or less of the fire-like or pyrogenous element.954 One class of things is turned into the other, the process being conceived in either way, or in both ways. For the expression of such a contrast and such a transformation, there is no word in Hebrew, or in any other language, better adapted than this verb הפך. The primary idea of this root, and one which it never loses, is that of reversal, metamorphosis, transformation. As a word of action, or motion, simply, it is the turning of a thing upside down, or completely reversing its position; as Hosea 8:8, the turning of a cake as it is baked in the fire, 2 Kings 21:13, the turning over a dish when it is wiped. In this sense, it is applied figuratively to the complete overturning (καταστροφὴ) of Sodom and Gomorrah, to which there is such frequent reference in the Bible. As denoting change, it expresses a complete reversal of condition, in which sense it is more completely and more literally applicable to this notable case of Sodom and Gomorrah than in the first. It was not only a subversion locally, but the bringing into a state the direct opposite of the former, so that land becomes water, fertility barrenness and salt, fragrance and freshness a vile and loathsome putridity (see Note on the Destruction of the Cities of the Plain. Lange, Gen., p. 443). This is the real force of that oft-used noun מַהְפֵּכָה as go repeatedly applied to this event. So that it becomes a kind of proper name, and passes traditionally into the Arabic mention of the catastrophe, occurring frequently in the Koran (see the note aforesaid). These cities are called the overturned, Mow-te-fe-hat, VIII. Conj. Participle of the root אפך, which is the same with the Hebrew הפך. What is worthy of note is that in Arabic this is the only application of the word in which the archaic sense is retained. In other cases, it has the idea of falsehood and lying, which, though not. found in the Hebrew, except a bare trace of it Proverbs 17:20, is common in the Arabic אפך, and comes most naturally from this same old primary idea of reversal or contrariety, only changed from action to speech. It is the saying of that which is just the contrary of what is. From this idea of reversal comes another, or third usage of the word which occurs in many places, and seems to give the true meaning here. It is, as has been said, that of transformation, metamorphosis, or of one thing turning into another. In none of these uses can it be employed as some would translate, that is, for digging up the earth, tossing it to and fro, as Delitzsch says, or splitting rocks with fire and vinegar. When regarded in this last sense, it is totally inapplicable to any such idea. This sense of transformation has many examples; as Leviticus 13:3 : the hair (of the leper) turned white, with many following examples; Exodus 7:15 : rod turned to a serpent; Exodus 8:20 : water turned to blood; Psalms 105:26, the same; Psalms 105:25, heart turned to hate; Psalms 114, rock turned to pool of water; Isaiah 34:9, valleys turned to pitch; Joel 3:14, sun turned to darkness; Job 19:19, friends turned to enemies, though there it may have the local sense: are turned away (their faces) at the shocking sight of the sufferer. For other examples, see Amos 5:8, morning to shadow of death; Psalms 66:6, sea to dry land; Psalms 32:4, my moisture to the summer drouth; with other places in all of which it will be seen that there is the idea of a transformation to something of a different, and, in general, of a seemingly opposite nature. In such cases, the Niphal is equally used with the Kal, just as in English the transitive sense, turns into, and the passive, is turned into, have the same meaning. Or they might all be rendered, in English, without a preposition: rod turned serpent, water turned blood, etc. Besides its own inherent fitness, the difficulties in the other translations seem to drive us to this sense of transformation, so well established in so many other cases. Taking the other view, as presented by Delitzsch and Rosenmueller, the subject of נֶהְפַּךְ would seem to be אֶרֶץ, but there the gender is in the way. If we take תַּחְתֶּיהָ forthe subject, there is a similar difficulty with the number; not insurmountable, indeed, as it may be taken collectively for the interior of the earth. The impersonal rendering, it turns, or there is a turning, would do, but it suits the sense of transformation rather than that of a turning up by the miners. All grammatical difficulties are obviated by taking for the subject לֶחֶם (bread or food) in the first clause, just as it is joined to this same, verb, and in this same sense of transformation, Job 20:14 : לַחְמו בְּמֵעָיו נֶהְפָּךְ, his bread in his bowels is turned, changed, transformed to something else, becoming the poison of asps, as appears in the second clause. So here לחס נהפך כמו אש, bread is turned to fire, or to the כמו אש, the fire-like (igneous,955 πυροειδές); bread and fire being taken as contraries, or, at least, very different forms of matter. The idea being somewhat strange, or out of the usual way, this mode of expression is adopted: as it were fire, as though this subterranean fiery energy must be something different from common fire, yet having so much of a similar elemental nature as to demand a similar name. The translator has used the word seems as a corresponding expression for an idea hypothetically strange. The examples of הפך and נהפך show that, in this sense of transformation, they may have a subject after as well as before them, or a double nominative—being, in this respect, like the substantive verbs of being and becoming. In this way, כמו אש, taken as one compound idea, may be regarded as the post-subject of נהפּך. The preposition ל, coming as it does, in the majority of the cases cited, does not affect this principle, since it does not denote approach merely, but the one thing actually becoming the other. In some of the most striking of these cases, however, there is no preposition, as in a number of those from Leviticus 13, and no difference is made, in this respect, between the active and the passive, or between the transitive and intransitive usage, as Leviticus 13:3, שֵׂעָר הָפַךְ לָבָן; ver. 25, נֶהְפַּךְ שֵׂעָר לָבָן, hair turned white. In other places, it is ללבן to white; but the idea is the same, and calling it the second subject does not alter the case. It might more properly be rendered whiteness; but the real change is from the black hair to the white hair, or from the diseased to the healthy. Psalms 114:8, however, presents two distinct substantives without any preposition : הֹפְכִי הַצּוּר אֲגַס מָיִם turned the rock pool of waters; the passive would have been, הצור נהפך אגם the rock turned pool of water. We have, to some extent, the same idiom in English, as he turned Mohammedan, or as Shakspeare says, “to turn husband.” In Job 20:14, we have an example of such a construction all the more striking from the fact that the leading words are the same with those of the passage before us. It is the same verb, the same noun, and the same idea of transformation. It has already been partially cited: לַחְמוֹ בְּמֵעָיו נֶהְפָּךְ מְרוֹרַת פְּתָנִים בְּקִרְבּוֹ In consequence of the rythmical division, made by the accents, we take the second subject in the second member of the parallelism: His bread in his bowels is turned, The poison of asps within him. To make it clear, translators insert a substantive verb in the second clause: it is, or it becomes, the poison of asps within him. But it is virtually the same with the other examples above given, and so Luther renders it: Seine Speise inwendig im Leibe, wird sich verwandeln in Ottergalle. Delitzsch is hypercritical on Luther, here. “The מְרוֹרַת, he says, is not equivalent to לִמְרוֹרַת, but we see that this can be expressed without the preposition, and certainly there are cases where the construction is carried from one member of the parallelism to the other. He would supply the substantive verb in the second clause; but his own translation shows that the poison is but the bread changed in its form, and therefore in its nature. The idea, therefore, is precisely what Luther gives: “His food in his body is changed into (becomes) the adder poison”—his bread turns poison. Job 20:14 is rendered by Junius and Tremellius in accordance with this idea: cibus ejus in visceribus ejus conversus fel aspidum in ipso fiet. The passage, Job 28:5, is also so given by them as to preserve the idea of transformation, although the construction is not clearly seen: Terra ex qua prodit cibus, quamvis sub ea diversum fiat, velut ignis ardeat. In verse 9 below, הפך (Kal transitive) has the first of the senses above named, that is, the local, or sense of subversion, instead of conversion; הָפַךְ מִשֹּׁרֶש הָרִים, “he overturneth the mountains from the root.” This might seem to furnish an argument for the sense some would give to the Niphal here; but a careful look at the two places shows that the inference is the other way. In ver. 9 everything is perfectly clear. There is the subject, man, the object, the mountains, and the kind of action, whether hyperbolically expressed or not, quite unmistakable. “Why could it not have been so expressed, ver. 5, or with simply a change to the passive? The sense of subversion in the first passage involves great difficulty and obscurity in these respects, as we have already seen. It is much increased by the particle כמו. The rendering, turned up as fire, gives no meaning; as by fire demands the instrumental preposition, of whose ellipsis, in such a case as this, there is no example. If earth is taken for the subject, the gender is in the way; if תַּחְתֶּיהָ, taken as a noun, then the number; if לֶחֶם, no other meaning can be given to it than that of transformation. The clearness in the one case, the difficulty in the other, shows that some out of the way idea was intended. Another argument is that throughout the Hebrew Bible the Niphal has everywhere the sense of transformation, and is used in the manner of a deponent. Out of more than thirty cases, there are but two which even seem to present any other meaning, and they, on examination, immediately resolve themselves into the common idea. There is the prediction against Nineveh, Jonah 3:3, נִינְוֶה נֶהְפָּכֶת. This, however, does not so much denote a local subversion, though that may be a part of it, as a complete change of state, from grandeur to ruin and desolation, as said above of Sodom, from fertility to barrenness and salt, from being like “the garden of the Lord” to the blasted waste and putridity of the Dead Sea. Another such seeming case is Psalms 78:57 : “changed like the deceitful bow,” or the relaxed bow, springing back to the old state from which it had been violently bent; verwandelt, as it is rendered by Hupfeld. So Joshua 8:20, “the pursued transformed or changed to pursuers;” 1 Samuel 10:6, נֶהְפָּךְ לְאִישׁ אַחֵר “Saul transformed to another man.” In Proverbs 17:20, the idea is not subversion, but contrariety, the opposite of what is, as in the Arabic sense of אפך. These examples have been dwelt upon so minutely to show that in this obscure place, Job 28:5, the sense of transformation is not only allowable, but demanded, and that the Vulgate rendering, igni subversa est, which has been the source of all similar translations, has not only its intrinsic difficulties, but is opposed to the almost exceptionless usage of this Niphal verb. ______________ EXCURSUS IX Job 29:18 And Like The Palm Tree Multiply My Days Besides the rendering above given, and in the text, there are two other modes of translating this verse, each well supported by the best authorities. Good reasons, therefore, should be given for departing from them. There is, first, that of the common English version, supported by Conant. It has in its favor, among the moderns, Umbreit, Stickel, Vaihinger, Hahn, Renan and others. Among the ancient authorities, there are the Targum, Syriac, Arabic. So also Luther, Tremellius and Junius, with others given in Poole’s Synopsis. It seems plausible and easy, but is open to quite strong objections. In the first place, it makes an incongruous simile. Heaps of corn collected in vast quantities (Genesis 41:49), promises of immense posterity (Genesis 32:12; Isaiah 48:18), great multitudes of people (all Israel, etc., 1 Samuel 13:8; 2 Samuel 17:11; 1 Kings 4:20), are well expressed by sand, since, in general, it is intended to denote the numberless, or what it is useless to attempt to count. There is an extravagance, however, in applying it to the years, or the days, of any human life, however long. It is, moreover, applied to visible objects, or conceived as visible, that strike us by their multitude, whereas time, however divided, presents no such conception of countless particles. Again, to the comparison כחול, there is almost always added the sea (הים), or the sea shore. Out of twenty examples there are only two exceptions, Habakkuk 1:9, “gather captivity like the sand,” and Psalms 139:18, in both of which cases the idea of number is so clear as not to need the addition. In Isaiah 48:18, the sea is mentioned right before and after. This, however, although having weight, is not conclusive, since Job may have meant the sand of the desert. In the third place, it makes strongly against this rendering, that it is out of harmony with what follows, even if we take it as an independent assertion (my root was open), instead of a continuation of an idea, or of a state preceding as would seem to be denoted by the participle פָּתוּחַ (my root laid open, etc.). Ver. 19 is in any way most abrupt and void of connection, if we render חוֹל either sand, or the phœnix bird, and this is the more strange in a passage so emotional, and especially when we consider the wonderful beauty of the language following. The second rendering is that adopted by Ewald, Dillmann, Delitzsch and Zöckler. Delitzsch, in particular, goes into a labored defence of it. They regard חוֹל as meaning the phœnix, the fabulous bird said to live a thousand years, then to die, or go out in its nest through some sort of spontaneous combustion, after which it had a kind of second birth, and lived the same round again. Hence the argument of Delitzsch, and which is really the best he offers, that the bird is so called from the Arabic חול, meaning a circuit or round, though there is no evidence that the Arabians themselves ever used this word for the phœnix, and it has no such meaning in Hebrew. The great authority for this rendering is derived from the Jewish Rabbinical commentators, and from the Talmud. This is suspicious on the very face of it; for, however excellent these commentators in some respects, yet nothing is so apt to lead them into extravagance as a story about some fabulous animal, especially some monstrous creature of a bird. The only thing in the context which seems to favor it in the least is the mention of the word nest, קֵן, in the first clause of the verse; but this is so used for habitation (as in Numbers 24:21, where it is taken as synonymous with מוֹשָׁב seat, and Habakkuk 2:9, where it is in parallelism with בַּיִת, house), that the figurative may be regarded as nearly out of sight, not suggestive of any comparison, or as itself suggested by what Job had said, a few verses above, about his own domestic felicity when his young children were round about him as the parent bird in its nest. If we regard it as suggestive of, or suggested by this monstrous phœnix story, then we must carry it through. It was not merely a dying in his nest, his home, like an aged man with his offspring round him, but dying in flames, like the phœnix to live again. The association of ideas would be monstrous, far removed from the simplicity characteristic of the book, whether we regard it as a later Solomonic invention, or as a true patriarchal history. The Greek fable was a late thing, comparatively, and there is no evidence whatever of its having anything Shemitic about it. If the phœnix was chosen for the comparison, it must have been on account of these marvellous incidents of combustion and revivification, since in other respects, or the mere domestic image of the nest, there are other birds that would have done much better. It is, however, this idea of revivification which commended it to some of the earlier Christian interpreters, who found in it the doctrine of the Resurrection. In the same way, φοῖνιξ, in the LXX. version of Psalms 92:13 (palma in the Vulgate, תָּמָר in the Hebrew), was also turned into the phœnix; as Bochart says, Hieroz. Job 819: Nonnulli Patries avide arripuerunt quia videbatur facere ad resurrectionis fidem. “The righteous man shall flourish (revive) like the phœnix.” It may be said, too, that in this place the rendering, phœnix (meaning the fabulous bird), disrupts the two verses, more even than the rendering, sand. How it reads! “Multiply my days as a phœnix—my root laid open to the waters, and the dew lodging all night upon my branch.” It is not only a most abrupt change of figure in two clauses closely connected by the form and dependence of their words, but a most inharmonious succession of ideas, especially if we carry along what is most prominent in the fable, the images of combustion and of revivification out of the ashes. The third rendering, and the one which the translator, after the most careful study, has found himself compelled to adopt, is that of the LXX. and of Jerome in the Vulgate. The former renders חול not simply φοῖνιξ, which might be taken to mean either the palm or the bird, but removes all ambiguity by using the words ὤσπερ στέλεχος φοῖνικος , “like the stem of the palm tree.” The Vulgate has simply sicut palma. The authority they had for this could have been nothing else than the standing Jewish tradition about the word, before the Targum, the Talmud, or those Rabbinical expositors who delighted in such stories as that of the phœnix and the roc. See what a monstrosity they make of שֶׂכְוִי, Job 38:36, rendering it the cock; “Who hath given intelligence to the cock?” in defiance of all the harmonies of the passage. It was not so with the older Jews when the LXX. version was made. Jerome, too, as he tells us in many places of his commentaries, relied much upon his Jewish teacher, who often gave him clear and consistent renderings for words, but nowhere. such wild fables as these. From such an earlier and better source must he, as well as the LXX. translators, have derived their rendering of חוֹל. It is much more likely that the later Jewish rendering of phœnix, as a bird, came from a perversion of the LXX., than to suppose the reverse, as Delitzsch seems to do; namely, that the Greek translators, not understanding the Hebrew idea attached to חוֹל, or why they rendered it phœnix, took it for the tree, instead of the bird. This is incredible. It should be borne in mind, too, that the Jewish Talmiudic and Rabbinical writers connect this with other fables about the phœnix bird, such as that it did not eat of the forbidden fruit which Eve gave to all the other birds (see Bochart, Hieroz. II. p. 818), and other strange things told about it in the ark. These stories show that this phœnix translation which was mingled with them must have been later than that purer source from which these earlier translations were made. But why should the palm tree be called חוֹל which elsewhere means the sand? Is there the semblance of a philological reason for it, or any reason aside from that beautiful fitness of such a rendering here which all must admit? We think there is. The common name for palm tree in other books of the Old Testament is תָּמָר (Thamar), a name given for its straightness, its towering figure. This name does not occur in Job, which would seem strange as it is so common an object, and presents such a beautiful comparison, unless it is presented by some other word. There may have been one of those dialectical variations which became so numerous in the later Arabic. In Job’s surroundings there was a fitness, too, in naming it from the sand, as its more common Hebrew name in Palestine came from its stateliness. There were, moreover, other things suggestive of similar ideas that characterized the palm tree. It was not only an inhabitant of a sandy soil, the beach, or the desert, but it also loved the water. Hence its favorite seat was where these two things were combined, as in, or on the borders of, an oasis in the desert, such as Tadmor, named from its palm trees (תּתְמר=תַּדְמר, in 1 Kings 9:18, written תמר), and, on this very account, called Palmyra, the city of palms. Here met together both of those characteristics which so adapt the palm tree to this comparison. It is the tree of the sand; its root loves the water, lies open to the water, which it instinctively finds beneath the sand, whilst its stately towering stem (or στέλεχος as the LXX. render it, having this in mind probably), presents its isolated branch (קציר here in the singular, branch, or top, instead of branches) to receive the nourishing dews of heaven. The sand tree, or the sand tree near the fountain, and an indication of its presence; this seems a good ground for a poetical name, if it is any more poetical than that which names it for its stateliness. In the Greek version of the Book of Sirach 24:15, Wisdom says, “I was exalted like the palm tree ἐν αἰγιαλοῖς on the sea shores,” the sandy beaches, or margins of streams running through deserts, like the Jordan near Jericho anciently famous for its palms. Its other quality is attested by Pliny, Lib. 13, ch. 4, as quoted by Bochart: Palma gaudet riguis toto-que anno bibere amat. So Theophrastus, ἐπιζητεῖ τὸ ναματιαῖον ὓδωρ “it seeks the fountain water.” These two qualities, loving the sand, and loving the water, might seem inconsistent, but it is in fact this compound property which makes it the fertilizer of the desert, by drawing up water that may lie below, and thus becoming the creator, as it were, of such oases as Tadmor or Palmyra, Both, however, meet us in that clear passage, Exodus 15, where the station Elim, in the desert, is so strikingly described as “twelve fountains of water and seventy palm trees.” The sand tree had made the fountains by which in turn it was nourished. It may be said, in short, that whilst the literal interpretation, the sand, here greatly weakens the figure evidently designed to be carried through both verses (18, 19), the other rendering of the fabulous phœnix utterly destroys it; and the wonder is that men like Ewald and Delitzsch could have tolerated it for a moment. It cannot be denied, that the translation of the LXX. and Vulgate presents perfectly this exquisite association of ideas. The palm lives long. That adapts it to the first verse, and immediately suggests the charming imagery that follows: the deep root drinking the water in the earth below, the lofty top inhaling the dew of heaven; earthly prosperity crowned with the divine favor.956 We cannot wonder that it was a favorite text with old divines, who sought to accommodate (and justly, too, for no other book than the Bible seems so made for such a purpose) places and figures of this kind to the inward religious experience. They were learned men, and knew more about the letter of the Scriptures than many a boasting Rationalist; but they also heard in it a voice the latter cannot hear. The thought is called up by a passage in the dying experience of Thomas Hallyburton, Professor of Divinity University of St. Andrew’s, and author of a most learned and acute work on the Insufficiency of Natural Religion (ed. 1714). When near his end, and in the most acute pain, he was asked one morning how he found himself. “Och, sirs,” he replied, “sore enough in body, but sweet in soul, my root spread out by the waters of life, and the dew lay all night upon my branch.” It confirms the comparison and the rendering given in the text, that the palm, as has been said, is a long living tree. Any one can see how much better it suits the simile of growing years than the sand, which is suitable only to the comparison of visible objects confusing the eye by their number, and thus becoming countless (numeroque carentis arenæ, as Horace says, Odes, Lib. 1:24). It is illy adapted to denote succession of any kind, especially that of a flowing quantity like time, or the years and days of life. The beautiful propriety of the figure, Psalms 92:13, where it is joined with the cedar in expressing the idea of a hale old age, furnishes also a strong argument in support of the rendering adopted here: “The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree (ὡς φοῖνιξ), like a cedar in Lebanon shall he grow (יִשְׁגֶּה, LXX: πληθυνθήσεται Vulg. multiplicabitur); they shall yet bear fruit in old age; they shall be resinous and green.” They shall be evergreens.—To sum up the comparison of the sand is defective and incongruous, as we have shown; that of the fabulous phœnix, monstrous and unscriptural; this suits every aspect of the figure. ______________ EXCURSUS X On The Supposed Locality Of Job 30 If there were scenic directions in the Book of Job, as in modern acted dramas, this chapter might, perhaps, have had appropriately placed before it the inscription: Scene—The Border of the Desert. Such a direction would seem to have some plausible ground of support from internal evidence. The imagination, if it be called such, is not only admissible, but has much to make it rational. Nothing is told us to that effect; but certainly it would be a very natural supposition, that the wretched Job, now become an outcast, stripped of property and children, abandoned by his wife, and afflicted by this terribly loathsome and infectious disease, had removed himself, or had been removed, to a distance from the scenes of his former life. It is to the credit of his three friends, notwithstanding the harshness appearing in some parts of their argument, that they ran the risks, and bore the disagreeableness, of remaining with him under these circumstances. Such a view in regard to his location is quite consistent with many things in the preceding chapters. It would very naturally suggest some of the wild frontier scenery Job describes in Ch. 28, especially the first part. It would vividly recall, by way of contrast, the scenes of his former life, the abundant “milk, the flowing streams of oil” (Job 29:5-6), now coming before his imagination like the Sharab (שָׁרָב, Isaiah 49:10), or mirage of the desert. So we might say, too, in respect to the brilliant nocturnal images presented in such passages as Job 22:12; Job 25:5; Job 26:13. The stars and constellations come out most gloriously in the clear, dry atmosphere of the desert. It gives them, too, a more imposing appearance of height when seen as the only striking objects visible from an extended barren plain: Lo! where Eloah dwells! the heaven sublime! Behold ! the crown of stars! how high they are ! This is language much more likely to be used in the vast solitary sahara, than in scenes crowded with the sight, or the memory, of well known multifarious objects. So Ch. Job 26:13, where Bildad says: “Look to the moon, behold !” or where Job, in his reply, points to the brilliant constellation of the serpent nearly overhead (Job 26:13). It is probable, too, that these discourses mainly took place by night, as the cooler, calmer hour, the season of contemplation, of “good thinking,” as denoted by that beautiful word Ευφρόνη, the Greek poetical name for the night. We know, too, from other sources (Hariri, and other Arabian Seance writers), that the Nightly Consessus was, among the early Arabians, a favorite mode of grave discussion, so established, in fact, that it gave rise to a peculiar verb and noun employed in the Ante-Koranic times for that very purpose, samara, to discourse by night, noctem confabulari lucente luna, with derivatives carrying the same idea, and denoting manner and place. The chief argument, however, for supposing such a scenic location here comes from this 30th chapter itself. These vagabonds, so graphically pictured to us, these Troglodytes, or dwellers in holes of the earth, as ver. 6 represents them, could never have so haunted Job had he been at or near his old abode in the vicinity of the city (Job 29:7) or castle, or in the fertile country adjacent. When they came out of their desert holes, and visited this fertile region, it was only as beggars driven by want, and to whom, on account of their incapacity for labor, or their general shiftlessness, even the meanest employments were denied (Job 30:1-2). These wild, famished, uncouth creatures now find him on the border of their own desert homes, and crowd around him in a sort of stupid wonder at his deplorable appearance. Their astonishment at the strange, emaciated man is soon turned to the most brutal scorn. They make his defenceless condition the object of their senseless, savage mirth—of gross insults, and, at last, of violent assaults. See a similar description of the same, or a similar crew, chap. Job 24:5-8. ______________ EXCURSUS XI מַלְאָךְ מֵלִיץ The Angel Intercessor Job 33:23-24 And is there then an angel on his side— The interceding one—of thousands chief— To make it known to man—His righteousness; So will He show him grace, and say: Deliver him from going down to death; A ransom I have found. Gesenius renders מלאך מליץ angelus intercedens pro hominibus apud Deum, μεσίτης, tutelaris, and refers to Matthew 18:20. In this idea of a supernatural being, or a divine messenger, he has agreeing with him Ewald, Schlottmann, Dillmann, Delitzsch, Zoeckler, and, among the older commentators, Mercerus, Scultetus, Cocceius and others. The Vulgate has angelus loquens, but meaning a celestial being, which Luther follows: ein Engel, einer aus tausend. To this corresponds Renan: Mais s’il trouve un ange intecesseur, Un des innombrables êtres célestes. On the other hand, Umbreit, Rosenmueller and Conant maintain that it is a mere human messenger, and that by it, most likely, Elihu intends himself. The reasons against this latter part of the idea are most conclusively given by Schlottmann and Delitzsch. It is not to be imagined, that Elihu, whatever some may say of his vanity and forwardness, should dare to represent himself as a divine or prophetic messenger to Job, sent in this way to announce to him the divine will, and to promise him the divine forgiveness. The word לְאָדָם, as Cocceius observes, forbids it. To announce to man seems to imply something higher than a human messenger. But מלאך, by itself, would be sufficient. The almost universal usage of this word makes it the representative of a heavenly messenger. The comparatively few cases in which it is used for a human herald, such as 1 Samuel 16:19; 1 Samuel 19:11; 1 Samuel 19:20; 1 Kings 19:2; Job 1:14, ever present a context forbidding any other idea. Compare Job 1:14; Job 4:8. Everything in this passage suggests the latter rather than the former, and throws the burden of proof upon those who contend for the human character. Delitzsch remarks that there is more of angelology in Elihu’s speeches than in other parts of the book; but a better argument is drawn from the close connection of this account with the vision-warnings mentioned just above (vers. 14, 15), as among the modes of the divine instruction. The transition is very easy from these to angelophanies, if they are not, in fact, identical—that is, the angel appearance occurring in vision. The language, too, “one of a thousand,” coupled with the epithet, Mediator, or Intercessor, shows that something more is meant than an ordinary angel, to say nothing of its being human. It seems to denote the chief of a mighty host. It immediately calls to mind the מלאך יהוה so often mentioned in the Bible as the divine representative, the angel of whom the patriarchs speak, Jacob’s הַמַּלְאָךְ הַגֹּאֵל, Genesis 48:6, “the Angel that redeemed him from all evil,” the “Angel of the Presence” mentioned in the Pentateuch, and, lastly, carries our thoughts to the Great Intercessor of our Christian faith, and of whom all the rest are prefigurations. It may be here but the germ of the idea; but it may be regarded as containing all that is afterwards unfolded. It is, in truth, a very old idea, and dates back to that early promise of one who was to be the avenger of the murdered human race, and the great champion of the divine mercy. Job may have had in mind this theanthropic idea in the remarkable declaration Job 19:25, where he speaks of his Goel or Redeemer as surviving kinsman, and in Job 16:19, as his “Witness on high,” שָׂהֳדוֹ, his Attesting Angel, as the same name is afterwards used in the Arabian Ante-Mohammedan theology. See Koran Surat 11:21. What seems strongly to confirm this view of the מלאך מליץ is the mention just above, of another class of superhuman beings, the מְמִתִּים, or slayers, ver. 22. The manifest emphasis of the passage, and the manner of using this latter word, show that something more is meant than diseases, or the pains of the last moments. It indicates a belief, to say the least, such as is found in the early Arabian theology, and referred to in the Koran Surat 79, entitled An-naziat, “The Angels who tear forth the souls of men with violence,” as distinguished from others called An-nashetat, or “those who take them away with gentleness.” There is in the Old Testament more than one glimpse of a terrific idea, namely of some outward invisible violence at the death of the wicked, or of invisible powers, whatever may be their character, who are present to take them forcibly away. It is intimated in that passage (before referred to, Note 2, ver. 3, chap. 7), Luke 12:20, by the word ἀπαιτοῦσι (they demand, exact), used without any expressed subject as though the real agents were too fearful to mention. So in the other passages there quoted, Psalms 49:15 and Proverbs 14:32. In the first, some unseen and unnamed powers are represented as putting (שַׂתּוּ, a strong Piel word), forcing, “driving, the wicked into Sheol,” where Death is their shepherd (feeds them), in strongest contrast with Psalms 23:4, where the Good Shepherd (the Mediator Angel) walks with the just in the terra umbrarum. In the other passage (Proverbs 14:32), no beings are mentioned; but the contrast is all the more striking between the death of the righteous man, full of hope of some kind, and the violent ejection from the body, or their “being driven away in their wickedness,” that befalls the other class. According to Rabbi Tanhum, one of the most acute of Jewish commentators, there lies the same thought in the passage, 1 Samuel 25:29. It is the contrast between “the soul of David bound up in the bundle of life,” and the souls of his enemies, whom Abigail speaks of as destined to be “cast out violently,” as though “slung out of a sling.” It is the language of a questionable woman making a questionable prayer, but still is it valuable, the Rabbi remarks, as showing the common belief of the common mind in Israel. He himself regards the expression, “slung out of the middle of the sling,” as interpreted by its opposite, “bound up in the bundle of life.” It is everlasting security and rest in the one case, an everlasting unrest in the other—a violent driving forth, “the sport of nature,” as he strangely styles it, “tossed evermore on the waves of matter, or projected into infinite space, or whirled round eternally, and never finding any termination to its wanderings.” It is something like the interpretation that Al Beidawi gives to the passage of the Koran, Surat 79, before cited. See Pococke, Notes to Maimonides, Porta Moses, p. 92, 93. To one who thus holds that the ממתים (vers. 22) denote the death angels (as do the best commentators even among the Rationalists), it would seem to follow, a fortiori, that the מלאך מליץ of the next verse must be also superhuman, though far excelling in goodness and power. This makes it the more strange that the interpretation thus given to ממתים should be rejected by Schlottmann, whilst he argues so strongly for the angel meaning in the latter place. Delitzsch dwells at length upon the passage referred to in Genesis, and elsewhere, in support of the view here taken of the Angel Mediator, and makes a very conclusive argument. So in regard to the ממתים, he refers to the “destroying angel”, הַמַּלְאָךְ הַמַּשְׁתּית, 2 Samuel 24:16, and “the evil angels,” מַלְאֲכֵי רָעִים of Psalms 78:49. For the “one of a thousand” he refers, in like manner, to Psalms 34:8, the מלאך יהוֹה, the “Angel of the Lord who encampeth (as though head of a host) round about them who fear God, and delivereth them.” The words “one of a thousand” cannot denote a choice man. There is no occasion nor ground for saying any such thing here, and Ecclesiastes 7:28, which is sometimes cited, is far from supporting it. Still less, as before remarked, is there ground for holding that in the use of such distinguishing language Elihu has reference to himself. Whether it be real modesty which he professes, or mock modesty, such as those who under-rate the character charge upon him, it would be equally inconsistent with such a claim. There is another expression in the passage which suggests an evangelical idea, or the germ of one, as furnishing the easiest interpretation. It is the word יָשְׁרוֹ, his righteousness, or his rectitude. The idea of anything due the patient here described, either as merit or as any uprightness of his own that needs to be revealed to him, would seem wholly out of place. He is represented as a penitent who turns to God from warnings given in dreams, or in consequence of sore chastisements. His character, as estimated by himself, is given in ver. Job 27 : I sinned, I made my way perverse. Neither can it mean his profit, as Delitzsch renders it: “to declare unto man what is for his profit.” Its most simple and literal rendering is: “ to show unto man his justice,” and this must be God’s justice. Such an interpretation would seem to be demanded by the word לְהַגִּיד, to reveal. If, however, the pronoun is taken as grammatically belonging to man—though there is nothing which compels such a view—it is his righteousness (man’s righteousness) as made and given to him by God; just as the spirit which God gives to man, Genesis 6:3, is called by Him רוּחִי, my spirit, or as the animation given by him to the animals is called (Psalms 104:29) their spirit, רוּחָם. It, however, need not be confined to the stricter evangelical sense of justification. יָשְׁרוֹ may be taken, in a general sense, as denoting God’s merciful dealing with the penitent man in not judging him according to his sins, whatever may be the ground for so doing. Taken either way, it comes to the same thing. And this is “the righteousness of faith,” as we find it all through the Old Testament, namely, the feeling of acceptance on some other ground than that of human merit, although what that other ground might be were almost wholly unknown. Whether it was the obedient offering of the sacrifice as a symbol of something unrevealed, or a hope in God’s pure mercy, it was clearly distinct from works as a ground of debt. It left to God “to provide the Lamb” that truly “ takes away sin,” in His own unknown, yet most heartily trusted way. This, it may be said, is “a finding of evangelical ideas in the Old Testament.” But what is there strange or inconsistent in such a mode of interpretation if such ideas are really there, having their deep seat, in fact, in the human conscience ever demanding something out of itself as the ground of the divine accceptance? It may be defended on the rational principle, that if the Bible is, in any true and hearty sense, “the Word of God,” or in any sense which would authorize the Rationalist to call it Sacra Scriptura, as he is patronizingly fond of doing, then, in order to be worthy of such a title, it must be a one book, as truly as it is a divine book. If there is any meaning in such a characterization, it follows that every part bears upon every other part—shadow here, substance there, a gleam in one place, the noon-day light in another—and every part upon the whole. Otherwise we deny to God’s highest gift to man a wholeness which is deemed essential to the lowest physical organism. Especially does this hold in respect to all connected with the promise, the office, and the work of the Messiah, or the great redeeming power so early predicted in “ the roll of revelation,” בִּמְגִלַּת סֵפֶר, Psalms 40:8. Says Delitzsch: “The Angel of Jehovah of primeval history is the oldest prefigurement in the history of redemption of the future incarnation, without which the Old Testament history would be a confused quodlibet of premises and radii without a conclusion and a centre” This was the principle on which the learned and pious commentators of the seventeenth century proceeded in all their interpretations: The Bible is a one book, every part bearing more or less on every other. In their applications of the idea they sometimes stumble us. We draw back from following Cocceius, Vitringa, and Caryl in the extent to which they would carry it. They find too much in a passage; so we think; they discover resemblances our eyes, sometimes, fail to see (it may be, because we lack the measure of their spiritual insight), but we cannot help feeling that they often strike out a wondrous light, such as we cannot ascribe to any accidental accommodations. They are, at least, accommodations, if we will call them such, that no other book, and no other literature, could ever furnish, whatever amount of pious or æsthetic imagination we might apply in the attempt to produce a similar effect. Let a man try it on the Koran, or on any classical production. The book of Job especially may, in this way, be regarded as a nursery of evangelical ideas, though, in many cases, just appearing in their germs. They grow out of the extreme condition of the sufferer, his utter want of help, and the inability of his friends to meet his case with any of the ordinary methods of reproof or consolation. They are pressed out, as it were, by the need that is felt of some ground of justification or support stronger and higher than the soul can elsewhere find. The reading of the whole Bible shows that this is God’s mode of revealing truth through the human itself, instead of the dogmatical way of abstract precept, having no connection with any actual experience. Such cases may surprise us, sometimes, by their apparent isolation, and yet when an emotional idea is thus brought out of the soul itself, there is ever some word to sustain it, some hint, some strange thought, seeming to stand alone in the older scripture, as something dimly revealed, but appearing in all its glory in the later revelations of the divine and human characters. “To declare unto man His righteousness.” The Genevan version annexes a note to this: “ To declare wherein man’s righteousness standeth, which is through the justification of Jesus Christ, and faith therein.” Dr. Conant cites this, though we hardly know whether as agreeing with it, or as implying that it goes too far. It would certainly be going too far as a translation, or even a paraphrase; but so evangelical a man as Dr. Conant would not object to it as a fair inference from Scripture taken as a whole, or as a comparison of this, germinal idea with other and fuller parts of the Bible. When we take into view the whole book of Job, whether in respect to the claim made for it of some divine authorship, or of mere dramatic consistency, the idea very naturally arises, that this מלאד מליץ, here mentioned as the comforter of the penitent in extreme affliction, and whom Elihu would especially regard as the intercessor in such a case as that of Job, is one of the בני אלחים, or “sons, of God” mentioned Job 1:6 and Job 2:1, or rather אלהים בן, the son of God pre-eminently. Such would be the idea suggested by the description, “the one,” or the chief, “ among a thousand.” Something like it would seem to have been in the mind of the Targumist, and to have suggested his rendering פּרקליטא, παράλητος (the Comforter). The opposite of this in the Targumic dialect is קטיגור, Gr. κατηγορος, the Accuser. The opening super-earthly scene at once presents itself. Even from that date, this Ben Elohim, son of God, or Paraclete, may have been commissioned to sustain the sufferer in the great and unequal conflict he is called to wage with Satan, the Accuser, the Adversary, who is permitted to try Job to the uttermost. This brings to mind the scenes described in the New Testament, the Temptation, the sore conflict of the Mediator himself when representing humanity, and his great triumph over that same hostile power with which he has been contending since the announcement in the Protevangel. Whether such is a rational mode of using Scripture depends altogether upon the settlement of this question which may be said to form the dividing line between the Rationalistic and the Evangelical mode of Scriptural exposition: Is the Bible a one book? Is there a one mind throughout, or is it a mass of isolated fragments, having no more connection than the separate parts that go to make up what we might call a Jewish or a Greek literature? Is it a grand epic having a true epic unity: The Book of the Wars of Messiah with Satan the Enemy of Mankind? or is it a fragmentary Iliad, a collection of ancient songs or ballads without any uniting idea, as some of these same Rationalists falsely characterize the great Grecian epic? “A ransom I have found,”—a covering, an atonement—a cancelling or blotting out (putting out of view) as the etymological image (obduxit, oblevit, Genesis 6:14) would more exactly denote. It is not easy to keep away the idea of something evangelical, or protevangelical, when we read these words in such a connection. It is God’s representation, capable of being spread over a wider or a narrower view. There is no language of which the scriptural writers seem more fond than this of blotting out, covering, putting away from the divine eye, or hiding, as it were, human sin. What more do we want than this image connected with the hearty belief that there is a true ground for it, out of man, and in something done by the Mediator by whom it is effected, some transcendent virtue in him, or some ineffable deed of glory, so bright that it turns the divine eye to itself, and away from the sin of him who pleads it—covering it over as it were, blotting it out, or hiding it as something lost and unremembered in the depths of the sea. O happy is that man, and bleat, Whose sins are covered o’er. —Scotch Version Psalms 32:1. It may be called an anthropopathic figure; but volumes on “The Philosophy of the Atonement” could not so penetrate the intellect by first penetrating the affections. It should be remembered, too, that whatever may be the nature of the atonement, it is God’s provision. “I have found,” מָצָאתִי. Delitzsch well remarks on this word, that it denotes not a mere casual meeting with a thing, but a finding after seeking—in other words, a providing. The language here, he says, is suggestive of Hebrews 9:12, αἰωνίαν λύτρωσιν εὑράμενος, “having found an eternal redemption (an eternal ransom) for us.” “Deliver him,” ver. 24. The language may be applied to a wider, or to a narrower deliverance. It may be a recovery from bodily sickness, or from spiritual disease, or from both combined; it may have reference to the temporal or the eternal; but it is the same essential salvation. Noah when he watched the ascending flame of the burnt-offering, Job when he said, “I know that my Redeemer liveth,” David when he said, “Blessed is the man whose sins are covered,” the woman who touched the hem of Christ’s garment that she might be healed of her bodily disease, and Paul when he said, “There is now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus,” had, each of them, the same essential “righteousness of faith.” EXCURSUS XII The Whirlwind, Job 38:1; And The Person Spoken Of, Job 38:2 The fact that סערה here has the article attached to it is not to be disregarded in determining the plan and connections of the book, although it may not be deemed absolutely conclusive. The whirlwind (הַסְּעָרָה) seems certainly to suggest something known, or of whose presence, or approach, the reader has, in some way, had intimation. So Schlottmann: “The article shows that that very storm is meant, the coming up of which Elihu has already described.” Instead of being weakened, this is rather strengthened by the view of זהב (the golden sheen) as presented in the translator’s notes to Job 37:22-23. The סופה, or thunderstorm, is the forerunner of the סערה, just as the tornado, as now witnessed, often has such a predecessor. Whether natural or supernatural, or a combination of both (since the Scriptures, as we have seen, Lange Gen. Special Int. to Chap. I., page. 145, does not make that sharp distinction which our philosophy does), it would be equally consistent with the view of the book as a drama, or as an actual narrative of fact. Like the pillar of cloud and fire in the wilderness, or the volcanic flames of Sinai, this סערה may have had mingled with it more or less of meteorological causation, and this warrants an appeal to the peculiar electric or amber hue that is sometimes seen in such wind clouds, giving them an appearance majestic, yet more awing than the darkest nimbus charged with rain. Delitzsch, however, thinks that the article is to be taken generically, namely, the whirlwind, as distinguished from other species of winds, and so equivalent to a whirlwind. Conant and others of our best commentators take the same view. It may, doubtless, be so regarded, and therefore the article by itself is not conclusive. There is, however, another argument equally strong, whether we read with the article or without it, and that in the great improbability of such a declaration: “The Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind,” or “out of a whirlwind,” if no mention had been made, and no intimation had been given, either in the narrative, or in the dramatic action, of any such event. The improbability of it is not diminished—it is rather greater—if we suppose such announcement to come right after Job’s words, Job 31:40, or even some of the verses above supposed to be misplaced in order to favor such a theory.957 The very fact that this undramatic abruptness, as it would in that case be, is not seen or felt by the reader, comes from the Elihu portion, and the effect it has upon the minds even of those who reject it as spurious. Indeed, a very strong and conclusive argument for the genuineness of this Elihu portion, is the very fact, that it makes such an appropriate preparation for the Theophany and the whirlwind by which it is attended. This we have endeavored to show elsewhere (see Int. Theism, Note p. 26, 27). The view intended to be enforced here is, that this is felt all the more powerfully from its having been thus brought in dramatically, without any intervening narrative clause, such as occurs in other parts. But that there should have been no announcement, not even of the narrative kind, would be a singular thing. It would be especially so in a drama where all the events explanatory of the great action are so minutely given in the prologue and in the appendix, to say nothing of the narrative account of Elihu, his country and his kindred, previous to his speaking. It has been charged that he appears too suddenly, and with too little mention of the manner and reason of his coming. God’s speaking out of a whirlwind, with nothing said or hinted of a whirlwind, or of any theophanic accompaniment, would seem a much stranger fact, especially if we regard the book as a drama. However different the forms of dramatic representation, it is a universal characteristic that some preparatory warning, either by speech, or action, or by something called machinery, is given of celestial appearances. In truth, nothing could be more undramatic than the other view, especially if we read chap. 38 as coming directly after chap. 31. We have a sententious moralizing on the divine ways; no intimation is given of approaching deity; when all at once it is said: “The Lord answered out of the whirlwind,” or a whirlwind, מן הסערה, a Hebrew word for the most violent tempest, tornado, procella, רוה סערה (see Psalms 107:25; Ezekiel 13:11; Ezekiel 13:13; Isaiah 29:6; Jonah 1:4; Jonah 1:12; Jeremiah 23:19; Jeremiah 25:32). Had it been said: The Lord answered from heaven, as the angel called to Abraham, or from the skies, or from a cloud, or from the air, or from any common constant condition of physical surroundings, it would not have been so remarkable, although, even in such cases, not according to scriptural usage, which always prepares us, in some way, for such a divine speaking.958 It is very much as though the sixth verse of Exodus 3 had come directly after the first: “And Moses was feeding the flock, etc.; and God said, I am the God of thy fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” Or had verse 6 read: “and God spake out of the burning bush,” or “a burning bush,” when no intimation whatever had been given of any such appearance, then the case would be perfectly parallel to this in its strange abruptness. In like manner, had Exodus 20:1 : “And God spake all these words saying,” etc., come directly after Job 19:1 : “The same day came the children of Israel into the wilderness of Sinai,” the leaving out of all the intervening appearances would not be more strange, or contrary to Bible usage. There, too, as in the other case, would the wonder have been enhanced, had chap. 20 commenced: “and God spake out of the fire,” when nothing had been said or hinted in respect to any fire natural or supernatural. So too in 1 Kings 19:11, God’s speaking to Elijah in the still small voice that followed the earthquake, the wind, and the fire, might just as well have immediately followed his speeches to the priests of Baal. Compare other theophanies of the Old Testament, as also those of the New, such as Matthew 3:16-17; Acts 9:3, and the difference will be seen at once. The attending circumstances differ in each case; but the reader cannot fail to see the point of the parallel. In like manner, the divine declarations959 to the prophets have their preparatory narrative announcements. Surely there would have been something here like the mention of the gathering phenomena out of which the Lord spake to Moses and Elijah, had there not been dramatic intimations which, when rightly understood, prepare us for the voice. Such, we think, is the effect of reading the 36 and 37 chapters (the latter part of Elihu’s speech). The most unlearned reader, without any helps of exegesis, though having a very inadequate view of the meaning of many verses, gets such an impression. It is in the very atmosphere of the style and language, we may say. It is an impression, growing more and more vivid till the close, of something fearful present and approaching. There is felt to be a naturalness in Elihu’s cry, ver. Job 22 : “With God is dreadful majesty;” and this is the reason why so little surprise is felt by such a reader at the words “out of the whirlwind,” at the opening of chap. 38. The exegete would get the same impression should he take the poem according to its plan, and give up his uncritical effort to discredit the very part which, more than all others, proves the dramatic unity. Another question arises out of this portion of the book: Who is the person addressed, or rather spoken of, as one who darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? In the Int. Theism, p. 25, 26, a few reasons are given for referring it to Elihu, to which something more may here be added. Delitzsch thinks that the use of the participle form מַחְשִׁיךְ denotes its reference to some one who has just stopped, or been stopped speaking. The remark is in the main just, and if the genuineness of the Elihu portion is maintained, it would follow that Elihu was intended. Delitzsch, however, uses it for the other purpose, namely, as showing that Job was the last speaker, who, he says, “is interrupted960 by Jehovah without any intervening speaker having come forward.” The word “interrupted” (unterbrochen) is certainly at war with the impression made by the close of ch. Job 31:38-40. Job seems to bring what he intended to say there to a full rhetorical and most impressive close. Even without the formula: “The words of Job are ended,” on which we have elsewhere remarked (see Note 45 to ver. 40 of ch. 31), everything goes to show that he was done, that he meant it for a final defence, to which he would add no more. Elihu, on the other hand, towards the close of his speech, shows appearances of embarrassment and confusion: “O teach us what to say: we cannot order our speech by reason of darkness; is it told Him that I am speaking?” Then there is the cry at the appearance of the golden cloud, the Allah Akbar (God is great) that follows, and the finishing word as of one overwhelmed by the sense of a near divine presence, and of the insignificance of all human wisdom, and human counsel in comparison with it: “He regards none that are wise in heart.” The words are on his lips when the awful voice breaks forth. Such is the scene, briefly but faithfully sketched from the graphic outlines of Scripture. To those who are fond of calling the book a drama, and of praising its artistic merit, it may be said, that nothing could be more artistic, more dramatic, unless it be that actual reality which exceeds all art. If it be a work of fiction, then “the later poet,” as Delitzsch calls him, is the equal of the older, and by his skill in the difficult work of perfectly adapting an interpolated portion, shows that he might well have been the author of the whole. The expression “darkening counsel,” if we suppose it to refer to Elihu, may be taken as descriptive of this perturbation. We need not regard it as the language of censure, but as a mere passing notice of the last trembling speaker and his confused utterance, before the voice directly turns to Job, who, though silent, is yet the principal figure in the scene. Again, the style of the language: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” do not seem to characterize well the close of Job’s speech, chap. 31. They might have been charged as bold and confident, or as impious perhaps, but they were very plain words, very clear, and, as against the friends, very pertinent. They were, too, most true, as his inmost conscience testified. Ver. 37 of that chapter is simply a most solemn appeal to God, an oath or attestation. It is not repelled as impious. God meets the appeal, and evidently treats it with respect, as appears in the next verse, Job 38:3, which, beyond all doubt, is directly addressed to Job: “Gird up now thy loins like a man” (like a hero man, כגבר). It is as though, in comparison with other men, the Almighty declared him a worthy antagonist whom He frankly meets, and meant to give him some intimation of a sterner encounter than he had yet known: It is not thy three misjudging friends, it is not the young Elihu, with well-intentioned but imperfect and darkened counsel, it is I who ask thee now (the emphasis in אשאלך is on the first person as we have endeavored to give it in the translation), and to Me art thou to make answer, if thou canst. There are certainly fair grounds for maintaining that this new style of language in ver. 3, and the coloring given to it by נָא, the particle of respect and entreaty, indicate a turning away to a new object after Elihu had been disposed of in the previous verse. Some attention had to be given to him as the last speaker, and immediately the great matter of the address is brought up: “But as for thee, Job, now prepare thyself for a sharper questioning.” That the words of ver. 2 are spoken of Elihu may be inferred from the word עֵצָה, counsel; though the argument may not be deemed conclusive. The primary and most usual idea of this noun is that of counsel in the sense of advice, instruction, which it derives directly from the universal usage of the verb יעץ, as 1 Kings 1:12, where both are found, איעצך נא עצה, “I will counsel (advise) thee a counsel,” or a counselling; for the one sense easily passes into the other, the instructing or the instruction. In this very usual acceptation, it well describes Elihu’s counsel or instruction to Job as pronounced here dark and inadequate. Another frequent sense is prudence, wisdom or skill in counselling. In this way it is ascribed to Deity along with other attributes, such as בינה ,חכמה. For examples of this, see especially the book of Proverbs. So in Job 12:13, “with Him is counsel and strength,” Isaiah 28:29, and other places. But it may be questioned whether it ever means the divine purpose, or plan, or providence (as Renan renders it), whether general or special. Yet this is the sense given to it by those who make Job the object of these words of seeming reproof. “It is the divine decree, or plan,” says Delitzsch, “full of purpose or connection, which Job darkens, that is, distorts by judging it falsely, or, as we say, places in a false light.” One would hardly get this idea from reading the speeches without any reference to any such supposed censure. It might have some good application to the speeches of the three friends, for they, in their wisdom, assume to know something of the divine purpose, and that it must be to punish Job for his sins. Elihu maintains the idea of discipline, but all are equally wide of the real purpose, which is wholly super-earthly and superhuman, as set forth in the prologue. It is to show to Satan, and the Bene Elohim, that a man on earth “could serve God for nought.” It was not a purpose either of punishment or of discipline, primarily, or for any good or evil to Job considered as the direct object, but, through his sufferings (see Ephesians 3:10; John 9:3), to make this fact, or this truth, “known to the Principalities and Powers in the Heavens, κατὰ πρόθεσιν τῶν αἰώνων, according to the purpose of the eternities.” But Job knew nothing of any such purpose. He could not understand it at all; he could form no conception of it because it had not been revealed to him. Neither had he expressed any opinion about it, as the others, in their wisdom, had done, and, therefore, he could not be said to darken it. His language throughout is a righteous protest against their unjust expositions of the case, mingled with a constant moan over his own misery, so acute in itself, and rendered still more intolerable by a sense of some mysterious estrangement of one whom he had loved and served. It was God, in fact, with all reverence be it said, who had made dark his own counsel to Job, and on account of this he so touchingly mourns: “O that I knew where I might find Him;” “He hideth His face from me;” but He knoweth the way that I take.” This was his consolation, though all was dark to him in respect to the ways of God,—“when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold;” “for truly the purpose concerning me (חֻקִּי my decree) He will accomplish, and many such (unfathomable decrees) are with Him,” Job 23:3; Job 23:10; Job 23:14. Surely there is nothing in such language as this that can be called “a darkening counsel by meaningless words,” or as Delitzsch says, “a distorting, or perverting, or placing it in a false light.”961 In the Introduction on the Theism of the book, the opinion is maintained, that the language Job 42:7 : “the saying what is right to, or respecting, God,” refers solely to Job’s humble confession, Job 42:1-6. But certainly those who hold that he is commended for saying what is right in the general discussion, as most commentators do, should hesitate in applying to him reproving words that seem of a directly opposite character, and especially as contrasted with the respectful and encouraging words in the language that immediately follows (ver. 3). It should be remembered, too, that in the whole course of that discussion there is nothing more noble, more clear, or more commanding the sympathy of the reader, than that eloquent vindication of chap. 31. If there is here a reference to it at all, it would seem to be, not in the 2d, but in the 3d verse of chap. 38, after the momentary notice of Elihu. This does indeed look like a reminiscence of that pathetic appeal (Job 31:35): “O that one would hear me.” And now the reply comes: “Gird up thy loins now like a man; it is I who ask of thee,” not thy dark and erring friends: “It is I,” who have come (as the whole purport of the language following warrants us in paraphrasing), not to reveal any plans or counsels, not to solve a problem, or to decide a debate, but “to make my glory to pass before thee,”—not to teach thee my wisdom or skill in nature, but to strengthen thy faith in my Omnipotence: “Fear not, thou worm, Job;” “I am El Shaddai,” the Almighty one, stronger than Satan, and all the powers of evil that are permitted to contend with thee, and to try thee so sorely: “I can do all things” (Job 42:2); therefore “fear thou not; only believe.” One thing further may be remarked under this head: Had the purpose or plan of God been intended by עֵצָה, and not the advice or instruction given by Elihu and the others to Job, it would have been עֲצָתִי, my counsel, placing the meaning beyond all doubt, instead of the general term used abstractly. The reference to Isaiah 26:11 (קִנְאֲת עם supposed to be for קנאת עמי) does not bear out the objection of Delitzsch, since עם is a sufficient limitation of קנאת, preventing of itself any misunderstanding of the idea. An argument in favor of its being Job who is addressed in ver. 2 might seem to be derived from his own language Job 42:3; but a careful examination renders doubtful any such inference. There is something strange in the way these words are there repeated with a slight change, of מעלים for מחשיך. It does not follow, however, that because in the deep humility of his confession he seems to take them to himself that they were originally so intended. Job takes all to himself. He is the only man among them who makes confession. The words have been ringing in his ears, and now, in his awe-struck, soliloquizing style, he repeats them over to himself, as though conscious alone of his own faults, and having no thought of any other parties: I am the man; it is I, then, “who have uttered what I knew not,” “things too great and too wonderful for me.” The inference is strengthened from the fact that in a like musing way, like one overwhelmed with the deepest conviction of the divine condescension, he repeats the words of God himself, אשאלך והודיעני, “I will demand of the and answer thou me.” To take these as a demand that Job makes of the Almighty produces utter confusion. Hence some have been led to regard the passage as an interpolation, or a misplacement. But viewed as the language of one in amazement, and talking to himself, as it were, they have a wonderful dramatic force. So Conant very justly regards “this second member as quoted from the words of the Almighty.” We think, however, that he errs in taking them directly here as Job’s own language, and giving as their sentiment: “Let me now demand of thee, and be instructed.” The objection to it is that no questions follow as really made by Job. This is answered on the unsatisfactory ground that only “the general sentiment was intended.” But the dramatic significance is greater on the other view. It is a kind of silent exclamation of amazement: In this new feeling that has come upon him, he says these words over to himself, but as God’s own language He utters them just as they were spoken, but to the reader the real feeling and the real significance come through a change of the persons: “Thou ask of me! I answer thee!” And this it is which prepares us for the language that follows: “I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear,”—that is, I have had traditional knowledge of Thee—“but now mine eye seeth Thee.” The new knowledge excels the old, even as the sense of sight excels that of the ear; “wherefore I reject myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” The view here maintained in respect to the object of Job 38:2 is held by Lyra, one of the most judicious of the older commentators: Sed quis hie reprehenditur? He answers: Elihu, quem his verbis tacere jubet; Jobus autem jampridem siluerat. And so another authority quoted by Mercerus: Hunc taxat Deus, vel quod non satis efficaciter Jobum argueret, vel quod, cum homuncio esset, de majestate Dei orsus est agere.” See Poole’s synopsis. Others of the same opinion are referred to by Caryl. It must be admitted, however, that the great majority of commentators refer the words to Job. This is done, of course, by those who reject the Elihu portion. Even they, however, who admit it (and they are the larger number, if we take into view not only those who hold to its original authenticity, but also men, like Delitzsch and others, who accept it as canonical, though from a later author), may consistently do so, and yet feel no great difficulty (arising from this intervention) in regarding the divine address as overlooking Elihu, and referring directly back to Job’s concluding words, chap. 31. The same may be said of the great mass of ordinary readers who know nothing of the critical doubts in relation to this part. Very satisfactory reasons may be given for this. The speech of Elihu seems long from its division into five chapters, and from the mass of commentary with which it has been loaded; but the real time occupied by its utterance could not have exceeded twenty minutes, or half an hour at the utmost. What is of still more importance, Job all this time is the principal figure. A painter of the scene would place him in the foreground, barely distinguishing Elihu, and throwing the others altogether into the shade. Again, although Job is not the last speaker, he is the last one spoken of, and his own hardly suppressed manifestations help to bring him into prominence. Elihu keeps him in view continually. Eight times does he expressly address him by name (Job 33:1; Job 33:31; Job 34:5; Job 34:7; Job 34:35-36; Job 35:16; Job 37:14), besides sharp personal appeals in almost every verse. Much of his language intimates an actual part taken by Job, either by way of look, or gesture, or some sign of impatience, as though he was on the point of speaking himself. The critical insight of old Caryl discovers this, and he gives it as a reason for the prompt intervention of the divine voice, silencing Elihu, and preventing that reply on the part of Job which threatened to render the controversy interminable. Much of what we have thus said may be condemned as conjecture; but, even when thus regarded, it shows how natural this Elihu portion is, and how consistent with the dramatic unity of the book, even if we regard the divine address as wholly overlooking it. A close study, we think, will carry us beyond this, and force the conclusion that it is not only a consistent, but a necessary part of a work claiming to be a dramatic whole, and that, without it, this “artistic plan and unity” of which “the higher criticism” has so much to say, would be far less easily traced. Footnotes: [1]Ver. 4. Used to hold. הָלְכוּ וְעָשׂוּ, went and made. הלך has frequently in Hebrew the force of an auxiliary verb, giving to the verb that follows it the sense of constant or habitual action. Comp. Gen. 26:13; Judges 4:24; 1 Samuel 2:26; Gen. 8:3, and many other places. We have a similar idiom in common English: He went and said. [2]Ver. 5. And it was the way of Job. “And it came to pass” will not do for the rendering of ויהי here, since that would denote only a single event. [3]Ver. 5. Came round. On account of the Hiphil form הִקִּיפּוּ, some would make sons the subject, giving it a permissive sense, as Conant does: They let the feast days go round. There are examples, however, of Hiphil verbs used intransitively, and it may here have the sense of Kal, Isaiah 29, although the Kal, in its primary idea, seems to have a very different significance namely, that of cutting, as in Isaiah 10:34; Job 19. The incongruity of the apparently intransitive Hiphil would probably disappear if we knew the exact connection between the primary and secondary senses of the root. We may still give it something of a Hiphil rendering, and yet keep יְמֵי הַמִּשְׁתֶּה for the subject: When the days had made their round—their end or section. Or it may borrow its sense from the unused root קוף, whence תְּקוּפָה, Ps. 19:7, a circuit, or occursus, κατάντημα, a meeting, as the Vulgate and LXX. have it in that place. [4]Ver. 5. It was a saying of Job. The general aspect of the passage demands the frequentative sense for אמר; or it may be rendered he thought (אָמַר בְּלִבּוֹ, He said in his heart, Gen. 17:17: Ps. 14:1); or it may be thus taken without the ellipsis, like φῃμὶ in Homer. [5] Ver. 5. And cursed God. This is the old rendering of the Syriac (צהיו), favored by the LXX. κακὰ ἐνενόησαν πρὸς τὸν θεὸν), although the Vulgate renders it benedixerunt, which Luther follows. Junius and Tremellius, maledixerint, although in the other place, 2:9, they very inconsistently render it benedicendo. Aside from the strong demands of the context, the argument for the older rendering is found in the analogy of languages. The primary verbal sense of ברך (whatever may be the order of its connection with the noun sense of בֶּרֶךְ, the knee) is to pray. Hence, in Piel to bless, to pray for good, or, as here, for evil, that is, to curse (the English word itself, according to Webster, having had a good origin in cross—to pray evil in the name, or with the sign, of the cross). In like manner, the corresponding verbs, both in Greek and Latin, ἀράομαι, precor (the latter with the same radical letters as the Hebrew verb, PRK, BRK) have, also, the two senses of prayer and malediction, although the bad sense, from the greater cursing tendency of the Greeks, is so much more frequent than in Hebrew. So also κατεύχομαι, joined with ἀράομαι, Æsch. Sept. Theb. 633— οἵς γ’ ἀρᾶται καὶ κατεύχεται τύχας. Hence ἀρὰς ἀρᾶσθαι, found frequently (or some similar phrase) in the dramatic poets, may have the benedictory or the maledictory sense. The former is the more ancient (as we have it Herodotus 1:132, ἀρᾶσθαι ἀγαθά, and just above in the same section, κατεύχεται εὖ γίνεσθαι), the latter the more common. It is true, that they generally have an object expressed, or a substantive noun, like ἀρὰ ἀρὴ, which seems to determine their application; but then there is the same peculiarity about the noun itself. Thus ἀρὰ more commonly means a curse; but it has also the older sense of blessing or prayer; as in Herodotus 6:63; ἀρὴν ἐποιήσαντο παῖδα γενέσθαι, “they made a prayer that he might have a son;” and therefore he was called Demaratus, “the people-prayed-for” king. If the context helps to determine which sense is to be given to the Greek verbs, there may be said to be the same demand of the context in such passages as these Job and in 1 Kings 21:10. At all events, the facility with which these verbs are used in this double way furnishes an argument for those who hold to a similar tendency in Hebrew. It might, perhaps, be thought that, in some of the verbs referred to, the imprecatory force came from the compounded preposition, as in καταράομαι κατεύχομαι, imprecor. The preposition, however, only gives direction to the action of the verb, and may be consistent with either sense—blessings upon, or curses at. Besides, in the case of the Greek ἀράομαι and the Latin precor, the cursing sense occurs, when the context demands it, without any preposition—bene precari or male precari being equally independent uses. It is worthy of note, too, that, according to Lane, the corresponding Arabic verb in the 8. Conjugation (אבתרך) has the sense of vituperation, reviling, detraction. There is, moreover, the analogy of other similar words in Latin. Sacro, for example, may mean, to consecrate or to make accursed. So sacer may mean holy, sacred, or impious, accursed, horrible. Virg. auri sacra fames, “accursed hunger for gold”. In this way sacro and exsecror (execrate) come to be used in the same way. The same law of contraries seems to prevail in respect to some other Hebrew words of a similar kind. Thus the verb קָדֵשׁ purus mundus fuit—holy, clean—and קְדֵשָׁה meretrix, one polluted, consecrata in the bad sense of the Latin sacrata. So חרם (as a verb, or as a noun) may carry the idea of something holy, consecrated, or something doomed, accursed, ἀνάθεμα. There is the same equivoque in the Arabic haram. It is not without a natural ground, this diversity and almost contrariety of meaning. It comes from the fact, that the feelings of reverence and of awe, on the one hand, and of fear, detestation, and even of abhorrence, on the other, do sometimes approach each other. The terms are thus used in respect to things or ideas to which we cannot stand indifferent. This is the case with the idea of a personal God. Fearful as is the thought, yet experience, as well as Scripture, teaches that where there is no love for Him, there must be aversion. Not to bless, as Job does, ver. 21, is to curse. The argument for the old translation is strengthened by the invalidity of the reasons given for the new. In the first place, there is no evidence that the Hebrew בָּרֵךְ ever means “to bid farewell,” like the Greek χαίρειν, or ἐᾶν χαίρειν, unless this place is found to bear testimony to it. And, secondly, there is but slight evidence that the Greek phrase itself is ever used in malam part m. Its etymological signification, to rejoice (like the Latin vale, Greek ἔῤῥωσο, be well, be strong), is out of harmony with such a use. it is a bidding farewell, and may thus come to mean abandoning, giving up, especially when connected with ἐάω, but ever with sorrow, never with bitterness. It does not mean to renounce or denounce in this harsh way. And if it did, that would be so near to cursing as to take away all its value as an explanation of the seeming difficulty. Such a formula would be most peculiarly inappropriate to the charge against Naboth, 1 Kings 21:10, “Thou hast said farewell to the king,” as a mode of renouncing. There is not a particle of evidence in the Old Testament that treason or rebellion was ever expressed in that way. The Vulgate and the LXX. in rendering it literally ἐυλόγηκας and benedixisti. thou hast blest the king, either misunderstood it or regarded it as a sneering irony on the part of the witnesses. Here, too (1 Kings 21:10), the faithful Syriac renders it cursed (נבות צחי). Profanity of some kind, some evil speaking, careless or presumptuous speaking about God (mala dictio) would be the sin the young men would be most likely to fall into when heated by wine; and this was the very thing that made Job so solicitous about them, even as he was ever solicitous for the honor of God whom “he feared.” It shows, too, how justly he was entitled to the character given to him as one who not only feared God, but shunned evil—everything that had the appearance of evil, or that might lead to it. See his own description of the highest human wisdom, 28:28. See also the remarks on this touching-recital of his God-fearing, paternal solicitude, Excursus 4., p. [6]Ver. 6. The day. The article, as Conant says, denotes here a particular time, as set for this purpose. The rendering, therefore, of E. V., there was a day, called for amendment. [7]Ver. 6. The Lord. The translator has followed E. V. in this rendering, instead of the rendering Jehovah which Conant gives whenever יהוה occurs. His is the more faithful translation undoubtedly, and yet it was something entitled to a better name than superstition which led our old translators to avoid the frequent mention of this highest of the divine appellations. We can hardly condemn the Jews for carrying the feeling still farther, even to the avoidance of the writing it, except in copies of the Holy Scriptures. It is the great and ineffable name, and the effect must be bad if its pronunciation is repeated everywhere in the numerous cases of its occurrence throughout the Scriptures. What would make it sound worse is the fact of its being the proper name of Deity, as it were, in distinction from others which are descriptive. If used thus, it would come to sound like Zeus in Greek, Jupiter in Latin or Ormuzd among the Persians, or Thor of the Scandinavian mythology, and that is the reason, doubtless, why the scoffing infid ls are so fond of giving the name in full in their offensive and irreligious caricatures. The thought is of importance at the present time, when Bible revisions are so much talked of. Dr. Conant’s, or the new Baptist version, is, in many respects, an improvement on the old, and we can only hope, therefore, that, before it goes into common use in that denomination, there may be a change back to the old method. Still more exceptionable are the new modes of writing and pronouncing this sacred name such as Jahveh, Jehveh, etc. Etymologically, they may be more correct than that given by the vowels long attached to it; but it disturbs the sacred feeling that inheres in the name as pronounced on solemn occasions, and as it appears in the few cases of its expression by our old translators. Some of the German Rationalists seem to delight in being especially offensive in this way. It occurs a number of times in this Prologue, and comes again in the Epilogue, or the two closing chapters, but in the dramatic, or spoken part, it occurs but once, 12:9, and that in a ceclaration more than usually solemn and emphatic. If we regard them as actual discourses, it is evident that the speakers shunned the utterance of the name. If it is a poetical invention merely, then the writer must have felt that its frequent introduction in the dialogue parts would have been a violation of a sacred dramatic propriety. There is one occasion, as it occurs in the Prologue, in which it was deemed best, by the present translator, to give the name itself. It is in Job’s most solemn act of submission, ch. 1:21, where strong emotion causes him to break out into the chanting style. [8]Ver. 6. The Accuser—the Adversary. The meaning of the name is given here on the ground that it would be suggestive to the reader in those passages of the dialogue where Job speaks of “his enemy,” and would give a deeper significance to what he says, 19:25, of his Goel, Avenger, Redeemer. [9]Ver. 7. Going to and fro—walking up and down. Dr. Conant’s version, roaming over-walking about, is undoubtedly more in accordance with modern speech, and therefore, an improvement; but the present translator must confess his preference of the old English, as more graphic. Compare the language, 1 Pet. 5:8: “The Accuser, like a roaring lion, walks about seeking whom he may devour.” It must have come from the Apostle’s familiarity with this language in Job. [10] Ver. 10. Made a hedge about him. Among the striking epithets which the Greek poets affix to the name of the supreme god Zeus, no one is more suggestive of certain scriptural ideas than that of Ζεὺς Ἑρκεῖος (derived Latin Jupiter Herceus) literally, “the God of the household,” of the enclosure” (from ἕρκος, a fence, hedge, or wall)—the “God of families,” of the domestic relations. It is thus the style of Scripture not to shrink from placing side by side, as it were, the two extremes in the divine idea: the “God Eternal, Almighty, Most High” (see the names El Olam, El Shaddai, El Elyon, as they occur in Genesis) in close connection with epithets denoting patrial, local, and even family relations. He is the God of the universe, παντοκράτωρ, and at the same time, a θεὸς πατρώϊος, God of Israel, the God of His people, of his elect, in a closer sense than was ever dreamed of in any Grecian mythology. This epithet is a gem from the ancient mine of ideas. The thought it carries is from the patriarchal days. “Thou hast made a hedge about him and about his house, and all that he hath.” God does not deny what Satan says, although, for his own transcending reasons, He gives him permission to enter that sacred enclosure, and lay it waste for a season, that it may be restored to a state of more perfect security. He is called Ζεὺς ‛Ερκεῖος, say the Scholiasts, because his statue stood in the ἕρκος, and that these frigid souls, and many modern critics with them, think to be enough. They never think of asking the question that lies back of this: why was his statue placed in that spot? There was in it the same idea that is represented in those words of the Latin poet: “Sacra Dei, sanctique patres”— so pregnant with a meaning of which he himself perhaps had a very inadequate conception,—the sacred family idea, now so fiercely assailed in some quarters—those holy domestic relations so closely allied to religion, and where Righteousness lingers last when taking its departure from the earth: “extrema per illos “Justitia excedens terris vestigia fecit.” [11]Ver. 22. Cruelty, תִּפְלָה: enormity. Any thing abnormal, anomalous, inexplicable. See the note on the word, ch. 24:12. [12]Ver. 4. Skin after Skin. Heb. עוֹר בְּעַד עוֹר, or skin for skin, if we wish to take בעד in the same way as at the end of the verse, בעד נפשׁו, for his life. But it comes to the same thing. From the sense of after, which certainly belongs to בעד, and, in Arabic, is the prominent sense, comes that of exchange, one thing after another, or taking the place of another; the preposition coming before either the price or the thing exchanged. But what is the meaning of it? It would require a large space to give the different views that have been entertained. The reader will find a very full list of them, as given by Dr. Conant: Skin for skin—skin of another for skin of one’s self—skin for the body—skin for skin, a proverbial saying, like for like—skin after skin, as Schultens erxplains it: that is, a willingness to be flayed over and over again, that is figuratively, to be stripped of all his possessions, etc. It seems strange that none of them seek the explanation of the language in any thing beyond itself. After so much discussion, it is with diffidence the translator makes the suggestion that the whole difficulty is cleared up by simply adverting to the words עַצְמוֹ and בְּשָׂרוֹ (“his bone and his flesh”) in the next verse. עֶצֶם bone is used for the very substance of a thing, in distinction from its outside, or incidental properties. See Exodus 24:12. So גֶּרֶם, sometimes. But take it here for bone, as something more interior than the skin, or as containing the medulla, or as connected with the flesh which has in it more of the life, the feeling, than the skin, and we have just the comparison desired. It is the interior flesh, the quick flesh, as contrasted with the less sensible skin. So in 19:25, it is the contrast between the raw flesh to which he points (זֹאת), as yet remaining, and the skin which the crawling worms, bred by his disease, had already nearly devoured. The comparison seems obvious. The skin is outside to the bone, and to the quick or tender flesh. It represents the outside goods, τὰ ἔξω, such as property and even children. These may be stripped off, like one cuticle after another, but the interior life, the bone and the quick-flesh, is not reached. Touch that and see if he will not cry out in a different strain. Satan wanted to try the effect of severe bodily pain. He knew how intolerable it was, and that other afflictions, though deemed greater, perhaps, when estimated as matter of loss, could more easily be borne. The history shows that it was not the fear of death that was so terrible to Job, since he sometimes expresses a desire to die. נַפְשׁו then, here rendered the life (end of ver. 4) is not life, as existence, but life as feeling, feeling of severe pain. At the end of ver. 6, the context demands the other sense. He will give any thing, says Satan, to get relief from that when it becomes excruciating. See Remarks on this idea of unendurable pain in the Introduction on the Theism of the Book, p. 28. [13]Ver. 9. The reasons for this rendering are still stronger here than in the other passage, 1:5. The wife’s vehemence, and apparent bitterness, demand the strongest expression. [14]Ver. 10. Accept. This is a more suitable word, and denotes more than receive. The latter word does not determine the manner, being, like the Hebrew קִכֵּל ּלקח occurs in Daniel and Ezra, and may be called an Aramaism; but such examples, as has been fully shown, prove little or nothing in respect to the date of the Book. There are still more decided Aramaisms in Genesis and Judges. There are reasons, in some cases, for regarding them as marks of antiquity rather than of the contrary. [15]Ver. 10. With his lips. The Jewish commentators infer from this that while Job preserved correctness of speech, he was already sinning, or beginning to feel a want of submission, in his heart. But there hardly seems any good warrant for this. See Int. Theism, p. 28. [16]Ver. 13. Pain was very great. כְּאֵב, means, properly, bodily pain, although used sometimes for affliction generally, or dolor cordis, the aching of the soul (see Isaiah 65:14). But even this is on account of the dolor corporis. which may become so great as to overpower everything else. This has not been sufficiently attended to by commentators. See remarks Int. Theism, p. 28, etc. Job’s grievous cry, ch. 3., was simply the expression of this intolerable pain, which the fell disease was bringing upon him. Satan was now touching his bone and his quick-flesh, instead of his skin, that is, any outward good. See Note on ver. 4. The conduct of the friends shows this. Had it been mental sorrow alone, however severe, there would have been no reason why they should not have spoken to him. But to a man writhing in such extreme bodily anguish, speech would be useless, if not an aggravation. [17]Ver. 3. אִוָּלֶד בּוֹ. When I was to be born.—We follow Raschi, who gives the future here its prospective significance. The post-anticipating imagination goes back of birth, and takes its stand before the coming event, as though deprecating, praying against, its appearance. “The day on which I was going to be born,” he renders it ואז לא הייתי נולד “and was then not yet born.” Unless there had been some such idea as this it is not easy to see why the preterite would not have been used, as it is in the parallel passage, Jerem. 20:14: אָרוּר הַיּוֹם אֲשֶׁר יֻלַּדְתִּי בּוֹ, “cursed be the day in which I was born.” [18]Ver. 3. The night that said.—More grammatical as well as more significant than our English Version. Night is personified. This is now generally acknowledged. [19]Ver. 5. Call it back.—Umbreit, einlösen, redeem it, buy it back. Darkness and Tzalmazeth are called upon to take it back as something which had been loaned or mortgaged—reclaim it as their own—a terrific image.—The other sense of גאל, namely, that of staining, which some give it here, will not do at all. [20]Ver. 5. Dire eclipses.—כְּמְרִירֵי. Patach shortened to Hirek in the construct, state. The other rendering makes כ comparative, and takes מריר as equal to מאריר Hiph. part. of ארר: like those who curse the day. This, however, would make what follows in ver. 8 but a tame repetition, which is not likely. From כמר we get the sense of convolution, wrapping or rolling together. Hence the image of any great obscuration, veiling or darkening of the heavens. [21]Ver. 8. Doomed.—The primary sense of עתיד is a near futurity, something impending, hence prompt, prepared, and from that the sense of skilled which, however, does not occur elsewhere in Hebrew, and seems to have been made by Gesenius and others, for this one place. The primary sense, given nearly in E. V., will do here, and, in connection with it, it is easy to take Leviathan in its usual sense of some great monster, and the whole passage as denoting persons exposed to some imminent danger, or in the extreme of misery: let it have the cursing of such—that is, the deepest cursing. Delitzsch, and others, refer it to a superstition built upon the fable of the dragon swallowing the moon in fin eclipse. Those who rouse Leviathan are enchanters, who, in this way, are supposed to produce eclipses. It seems very far-fetched, and has about it an aspect of artificiality quite alien to the deep passionateness of the passage. There is, besides, not the least evidence of any such superstition among the Jews or the ancient Arabians. [22]Ver. 12. The nursing knees.—An affecting image of the preparation made for the coming birth. The tenderest care becomes the object of the direst imprecation. [23]Ver. 14. Mouldering Monuments.—חרבות. Delitzsch, ruins. So Umbreit. Monuments so called because now abandoned to neglect,—mouldering like the memories of those who built them. There is here a bitter irony, as Umbreit says. [24]Ver. 16. Had never lived.—לא אחיה in sense connects back with ישנתי, ver. 13, and what intervenes may be regarded as parenthetical comparisons: The first או, ver. 15, is simply connective of vers. 14 and 15. [25]Ver. 20. Why does He?—God is evidently the subject of יתן. It is as though Job feared to name him otherwise than by the pronoun. There is no need of taking it passively, as in E. V., and thereby destroying much of the power and pathos of the passage. Such avoidance in Hebrew of the direct naming of the subject almost always denotes something fearful in the thought of the act or the agent. [26]Ver. 23. Were it not for the Masoretic accentuation and division, קבר, end of ver. 22, might be taken with the clause that follows: the grave is for the man, etc. In that case, however, the preceding verb would have needed an objective suffix representing מָוֶת, ver. 21. The force of the word קבר may, at all events, be regarded as carried over into the following verse, as the still sounding refrain: the grave—it is for the man whose way is hid, etc. [27]Ver. 25. Did greatly fear.—The language is soliloquizing. It may be regarded as a resuming, after a pause in which there occurs to the mind of Job this silent protest, anticipating, as it were, something of the kind of charge that might, perhaps, be brought against him by the friends. I was not presumptuous, he seems to say; this trouble could not have come as a punishment for any such feeling. He had thought of adversity in the midst of his prosperity; “his heart had not been haughty, nor his eyes lofty.” He may refer to a fear he had had of this awful disease, the elephantiasis, which had, at last, come upon him. It is not easy to discover the reason why some commentators turn these distinct preterite verbs of fear, יגרתי ,פחדתי, into presents, as though he then feared some other terrible thing as coming upon him. So Delitzsch renders it, although the verbs in the next verse, having precisely the same form, and standing in precisely the same grammatical connection (namely, שקטתי ,שלותי, etc.), he takes in the past. It seems like treating the Hebrew tenses as though they could be made to mean anything which a commentator might wish to bring out. [28]Ver. 6. Pious fear. The epithet is used in order to give the distinctive meaning. יראת יהוה is the Hebrew phrase for religion, and becomes used elliptically. [29]Ver. 7. The emphasis here is on the verb, אבד and נכחדו, both strong words. The first might be rendered lost, utterly gone. The second is well expressed, in the English version, by the Jewish phrase, cut off. Instead of as yet charging Job with crimes, or even insinuating them, this language is meant to be encouraging. “The just, such as thou claimest to be, and as we believe thee to be, are never utterly lost, destroyed, cut off from God’s people. Therefore, hope thou for healing and restoration.” [30]Vers. 10 and 11. Merx puts these verses in the margin of his text, in smaller letters, and regards them as a displacement. They certainly have that look, unless we may regard them as a specimen of the way in which animated Arabian speakers run out their comparisons, as Homer sometimes does, until they seem to lose sight of the primary idea. What seems, too, to favor this view of Merx is the apparent lack of any verb, or verbs, for the nouns in the first clause, unless they are connected with נִתָּעוּ, which seems only applicable to the teeth. The translator has endeavored to supply this by the words in brackets. Such ellipses seem allowable when it is easy to understand a verb agreeable to the nature of the nouns, and suiting the context. It may, however, be regarded as a case of zeugma. [31] Ver. 12. Although the Hebrew here is so very short in expressionוְאֵלַי דָּבָר יְגֻנָּב, only three words, the translator would defend his version as neither superfluous nor deficient. The latter charge would seem to be against the omission of the conjunction: but ו, here, is only a transition particle. It connects nothing, and, therefore, as any full English conjunction would only encumber the thought, the ו is best rendered by being left out (see note on the omission of the conjunction 14:2). The Pual יְגנֻּבָ is rendered deponently; the passive form denoting merely ease or gentleness of motion, as though from no agency of the subject. Literally was stolen; but the idea is evidently the same as we sometimes express by the active steal, as in Milton’s lines: A soft and solemn breathing sound Rose like the scent of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air. At times. This is justified, and even demanded in order to give the true conception of the future form in יְגֻנָּב. It is the frequentative future, denoting repeated happening, a coming of things, one after another, and therefore future to each other as a picture, though all past as a narration. The pictorial Hebrew language uses this future in prose, sometimes, as well as in poetry. There is an example of it, ch. 1:5: “Thus did Job continually,” ככה יעשה איוב (thus would he do, כל הימים “all the days”—time after time). We may render it by a past tense; but there is a subjective or relative futurity in it. There is, moreover, something in this form, as here used, that gives an anticipatory, a looking-out sense to the whole passage. It is painted as something coming on, as though the speaker placed himself in medias res, or rather back of all, and regarded the events as they appeared to him in each time of his having this clairvoyant experience; for the whole style of the language seems to convey such an idea; as in the case of the δαιμόνιον of Socrates which so frequently appeared to him, though not always, perhaps, in the same way. The plural nouns in the first clause of ver. 13 confirm this view: “in seasons of serious thought—in visions of the night;” as though it had often happened. To render יְגֻנָּב in the past, without any wau conversive, or any affecting particle, or any thing in the context to justify it, seems very arbitrary, besides overlooking the whole spirit of tie passage. As the formal future (“will steal”) would not suit our idiom, or our Occidental modes of expressing relative time, the best thing we can do is to imitate the pictorial manner by putting it in the present, with some word to denote its repetitive idea as an experience, and something to express the subjective anticipatory feeling. To this latter service, no word is better adapted than our word seems, as used in vers. 12 and 15. Similar remarks are applicable to the futures that follow, namely, יַחֲלֹף, a peculiarly visionary word, and הְּסַמֵּר, ver. 15, and יַעֲמד, ver. 16. The præterites mingled with them (קְרָאַנִי and הִפְחִיד) have more of the narrative in distinction from the descriptive style; but these, too, may be regarded as subjective retro-transitions, or shiftings of scenic event. It may be maintained, also, that they are all affected by the peculiar subjective character given to the whole passage by the starting future יְגֻגָּב, ver. 12. [32]Ver. 12. Warning word.—דָּבָד, here, has its sense oraculum, as in Num. 23:5, 16, and frequently in the Prophets. [33]Ver. 13. Vision-seeing.—On the propriety of this word, see remarks Int. Rhyth. Ver., p. 51. [34]Ver. 14 Thrill with awe. הִפְחִיד is an intensive verb of fear, but does not, of itself, mean to shake, as E. V. renders it. The Hiphil form makes it here peculiarly strong. [35] Ver. 15. A breathing form. Some render רוח here a spirit (a spectre, phantasm); others, simply a wind. The rendering above given combines both ideas—not for the sake of compromise, but because it is supposed to be most descriptive of the fact intended: a stirring, or movement in the air, produced by a spiritual presence, thus, as it were, taking form and position for the sense, or, in this way, announcing itself. Walter Scott may not have thought of Job, but he has something of the same conception in respect to the effect produced by the presence of spirits, when William of Deloraine disturbed the grave of the wizard. Michael Scott (Lay of the Last Minstrel, Cant. 2:16): Strange sounds along the chancel past, The banners waved without a blast. We have, along with this, that most peculiar verb חלף, generally denoting some mysterious, indescribable change. The simplest word, however, answers the purpose here. It was a stirring in the air, just making, or seeming to make, itself perceptible to the sense. [36]Ver. 15. made my hair rise up: תְּסַמֵּר. There is no reason why this Piel verb should not have its transitive sense, though most commentators render it intransitively, making hair the subject. If taken transitively, רוח (wind or spirit) is the subject: or the feminine may denote a general or indefinite subject, the event itself. [37]Ver. 16. It stands. יעמד—takes position after the breathing motion, and before the announcement. [38]No face. מַרְאֶה, aspectus, visage, something that has features. It is a more distinct word than תְּמוּנָה in the next clause, and makes a contrast with it stronger than the words form and image as used by E. V. and Conant. It is the mere outline without any look, or any internal lineaments. [39]Ver. 16. Deep silence! דממה might, perhaps, be taken interjectionally, as we sometimes use the noun silence for hush! as though the narrator, in his vivid apprehension, is carried back, and loses himself in the scene: “Hush! ’tis a voice I hear!” or, am about to hear (subjective future אֶשְׁמַע). [40]Ver. 17. The announcement of the Spirit is put in capitals; but it is not certain where it ends, or where Eliphaz resumes his moralizing. Ver. 19, beginning with אַף, looks as though it might be the application that the speaker makes of the Spirit’s message, which either stops here or goes through the chapter. [41]Ver. 17. Boasting man. The epithet is used to mark the contrast intended between אֱנוֹשׁ, weak man, mortal man, and גּבר, strong man, hero, ἀνήρ, vir. [42]Ver. 18. Defect: תָּהֳלָה ignorance. [43]Ver. 19. לִפְּנֵי; justly regarded by Conant and others as comparative. [44]Ver. 21. Their cord of life. יתְרָם בָּם. This rendering is adopted by the most modern commentators. It gives us the same image as the mournful language of Hezekiah, Isa. 38:12, מִדַּלָה יבֲצְּעֵנִי. Life, as a cord or thread, is a common figure in many languages. [45] Ver. 21. Still lacking wisdom. וְלא בְחָכְמָה literally, but not in wisdom, or with wisdom. It may be taken as referring to the deep wisdom of God, Job 28:13—“not found in the land of the living,” that is, among mortal men at all. Or it may be referred to the highest wisdom of which man is capable, “the fear of God,” 28:28, but which comparatively few men possess. It is not exactly certain where the metaphor ends. Critics of the Lowthian school might deem this a fault. In the sacred writings, however, metaphors are not employed for embellishment. It may be thought, too, that in this case the effect is strengthened by the very uncertainty. We hardly know where the moth ends and the man begins, or where the one fades away into the other. [46]Ver. 3. The foolish. אויל here, if taken in the milder yet still morally culpable sense of foolish, may be personally applicable to Job for his violent outcry, although Eliphaz does not sufficiently consider, or understand, his extreme bodily anguish. In the harsher sense of great criminality, such as seems to be denoted in the description following, we cannot regard them as imputing great crime to Job, or holding him out as a fit subject, for such a retribution. The controversy has not a yet come to that, and such a sudden and unwarranted imputation upon one who had been known as “sincere and upright, one who feared God and eschewed evil,” even as God Himself describes him, would certainly be a gross dramatic inconsistency, to say the least. Job’s outcry astonishes them. Whether rightly or not, they understand him as implying that God is unjust, that He even favors the wicked, or, at least, that He has no regard, in His providential dealings, to the character or destiny of men. It is a defence of God against such a supposed charge rather than an attack upon Job personally. In this idea we find a key to much that is afterwards said, though it must be admitted that as the dispute grows warm there comes more and more of personal crimination. [47]Ver. 5. Even from the thorns. This intensive rendering is demanded by the union of the prepositions אל and מ—to and from. They glean close, even the stray heads of grain that grow among the thorns. צַמִּיםis best made here from צמם with the sense of צמא to thirst (Zöckler, Umbreit, Ewald, Merx). One version has robber, with little or no authority, unless regarded as metaphorical from the idea of the thirsty, with which we have combined it in the version above. Dillmann, Davidson, Conant, render it the snare, as in 18:9, though it seems quite forced here, and entirely out of harmony with שאף to gape or pant after. The Vulg. has armatus for robber. The Syrian renders it thirsty, Which certainly seems to make the clearest contrast with hungry (רעב), and therefore to be preferred notwithstanding 18:9. [48]Ver. 7. Ah, no! כי is not only strongly adversative here, but evidently implies a negative; οὐ μὴν ἀλλά, Children of the flame; literal rendering of בגי רשף, whether regarded as metaphorical of sparks, or of ravenous birds, as Gesenius and others take it. [49]Ver. 12. Reality, תושיה. See Note 7, 6:13. [50]Ver. 20. Death here is represented as a tyrant or a conqueror, and therefore there is used the word פדה to redeem. [51]Ver. 22. Forest Beasts: חית הארץ, beasts of the earth; wild beasts in distinction from חית השדה, beasts of the field, or domestic animals. [52]Ver. 24. לא תחטא. E. V., not sin. Primary sense here: not miss. [53]Ver. 2. Poised. ישאו, implying weight—lifting up, so as to hang in free suspension. יחד here may refer to the grief and suffering laid together, or as denoting coincidence; at one—like יחדו; the two ends of the beam in one horizontal line; expressive of great exactness. הַיָּה for הַוָּה, great misfortune,—extreme wretchedness—a sighing onomatope, like our word woe. See Hupfeld’s very full explanation of the word Ps. 5:10. [54]Ver. 3. Incoherent. Primary sense of לעה is swallowing, as our translation gives it. The secondary sense is confused and difficult utterance, as though the words were choked or swallowed. [55]Ver. 6. The white of eggs. This comparison that seems so little poetical, is evidently significant of the unsavoriness and tastelessness of the counsel just given. How vapid is all your moralizing as contrasted with the pungency of my insupportable anguish! See the remarks of A. B. Davidson, a late but most admirable commentator, who is very full on this and the following verse. [56]Ver. 7. דוי לחמי. Lit., diseases of my food,—sickness of my food, or food of sickness—unsavory, or that makes me sick. [57]Ver. 9. Comp. 4:21, and Isaiah 38:12. [58]Ver. 10. Endure; ואסלדה. Most modern commentators follow Schultens in his deduction of this once occurring word from the Arabic צלד, to paw the ground as a horse, thence getting the sense of exultation. It seems extravagant, and out of harmony with the other language. Better take it from the Chaldaic סלד, which has the sense of burning. Hence also, as senses in use, those of contracting drawing ones-self firmly up. See the example given, Buxtorf, Chald. Lex. 1481, from Bereschith Rabba, ונפשו סולדת עליו. anima ejus contrahitur, retrocedit in eo. Our Eng. Ver. harden myself is not far from this idea. Though He spare not, or, let Him not spare. The 3d clause. Literally: For I have not denied the words of the Holy One. [59]Ver. 13. תושיה, from the substantive verb יש. Anything substantial and real in distinction from the failing and the evanescent. [60]Ver. 14. Such is Dr. Conant’s clear rendering of this difficult passage. מם; primary sense, melting. Hence failing (liquescentem), allegoria pereuntis. See Glass. Philologia Sacra, 1712. [61] Ver. 16. Hide themselves. It does not represent a frozen stream, but a dark scene of winter, or of the rainy season, when the wadys are full. It is the snow falling on the swollen waters and immediately disappearing; the same exquisite image that Burns so happily employs: Or as the snow falls in the river, A moment white, then gone forever. [62]Ver. 17. Deserted of their springs. נצמתו—cut off from their fountains. The word זרב occurs but once. It is best derived from the Syriac זרב coarctavit. The sense drying up is closely allied to this, and also to that of heating, which is commonly given to the verb. See Dillmann and Umbreit. [63]Ver. 18. Zöckler here, we think, is right in referring ארחותto the themselves, instead of rendering it caravans like many others. The process is by way of evaporation; “they go up into tohu,” the waste atmosphere. It is not easy to apply this language to the caravans, though it is admirably descriptive of the drying up of the streams. The verb ילפתו, they twist to one side, well represents an abandoned channel. [64]Ver. 20. They reach the spot; עדיה. Right up to it—on its very brink. [65] יחפרו, literally, blush with shame. The expression is not too strong when we think of the sickening disappointment of men travelling days in the desert, sustained by the hope of the cooling water, and finding at last only the parched bed of the wady. [66]Ver. 22. For my sake, בַּעֲדִי. A wider sense than לי: For me, pro me—propter me, as though by way of ransom or deliverance from an enemy. See note 953 to Noldius’ Concordance of Hebrew Particles. [67]Ver. 23. Hostile hand. Job seems to be ever thinking of some great and terrible enemy, who is not God. Comp. 16:9, 11. [68]Ver. 27. As though. The language is evidently comparative. [69]Ver. 27. Or traffic made. כרה with the sense emit, like the corresponding Arabic, and as used Deut. 2:6; Hos. 3:2. So Schlottmann und verhandelt euern Freund. [70]Ver. 29. The rendering of Delitzsch. [71]Ver. 30. Conscience. חֵךְ the palate, when used metaphorically, denotes the moral rather than the intellectual judgment. [72]Ver. 2. Labors end; Merces, reward, is sometimes the ellipsis to פֹּעַל, work; but end suits better here. [73]Ver. 3. מִנּוּ לְי. Number out; the active used for the passive, say the grammarians; but that explains nothing. There must be a reason for the idiom. Compare Job 4:19; 18:18; 19:26; 34:20; Ps. 49:15. In these and similar cases, it will be seen that the real or supposed agent is something fearful, or repulsive, as in Job 19:26. There is a kind of superstition in it; an aversion to the mention of the name, as the Greeks feared to speak the name of the Furies. As remarked in note on 6:23, Job seems to be haunted by the thought of invisible tormentors, as he had good reason to think from what is said in the introductory narrative, and as appears in the terrible language of ch. 16:9, 10. This fearful allusion appears, Ps. 49:15, כַּצֹּאן לִשְׁאול שַׁתּוּ, “Like sheep they put or thrust them (the wicked) into Sheol”—stabulant in Orco. The idiom passes into the Greek of the New Testament, Luke 12:20: τὴν ψυχήν σου ἀπαιτοῦσιν ἀπὸ σοῦ—“they demand thy soul of thee.” Who are they? Fiends, evil beings, said the old interpreters; “they will come after thee.” No good reason can be given why it is not the true interpretation. In some cases this reason does not appear so evident. It may be reverence or admiration rather than shuddering fear. As in Isaiah 60:11, the glorious description of the New Jerusalem: “Thy gates shall stand open day and night”—literally: “they shall keep them open.” Instead of passive, it is the piel, most intensely active, וּפִתְּהוּ. Who are they? The holy angels, or warders of the New Jerusalem. If not this precisely, something very glorious and mighty was in the mind of the prophet, leading him to use the expression. It is quite evident, however, that in Job 17:18: “They shall thrust him out from light to darkness,” as also in Job 34:20, and Ps. 49:15, the evil or fearful agents are in the thoughts. See Glassius Phil. Sacra., 817. [74]Ver. 4. How Long. When shall I arise expresses eagerness, which is not wanted here. How long. See the passionate places where it occurs in the Psalms. [75]Ver. 4. Be o’er, be gone; מִדַּד for full form מּנְדָּד Verbal noun from נדד. [76]Ver. 5. Worms; רִמָּה. Many commentators would render it rottenness; but there is no need of departing from the usual sense. [77]Ver. 5. Heals up; the Arabic sense of רגע suits well here, to return, hence to he restored. מסס = מאם. See Ps. 58:8. This is the interpretation now given by most commentators. [78]Ver. 6. Gleam of hope. אֵפֶם the least particle, the very extremity; hence used as a negative to denote total privation—all gone. [79]Ver. 8. I shall be gone. Compare remarks in the Introductory Argument, p. 5: The pious soul’s despondent grief at the thought of bidding farewell to God. Here the converse idea. [80]Ver. 11. Let me speak; אדברה. Paragogic future: Language of entreaty. [81]And moan, שיח, to make a low murmuring sound—talk to ones-self. [82]Ver. 13. Taken from Dr. Conant’s Version, which is often rhythmical, although he did not aim at making it such. [83]Ver. 15. These bones. So Conant, Davidson, and most modern commentators. [84]Ver. 16. The meaning of this verse has been much discussed. The old rendering “I would not live always” seems too sentimental when unqualified. Schlottmann and others take from it the idea of suicide. I loathe life; I will not live. But this is repulsive. The version given exactly suits the condition of the sufferer. [85]Ver. 19. The rendering usually given is the literal one; and its correctness is put beyond doubt by the Arabic usage (see Hariri, Seance xv, pp. 164, 167, Do Sacy’s Ed.) It denotes impatience: Let me have time to swallow. The version here adopted is merely a substitution of another expression giving the same idea. It is one of the very few cases in which the translator has thus attempted to modernize. [86]Ver. 20. Burden unto thee. We follow Delitzsch here, who adopts the Jewish traditional reading of עלי־. [87]Ver. 3. The God above; the Almighty one. The emphasis here is on the divine names, אל and שדי. Had it been on the idea of perversion (יעות) the verb would have been changed, as is usual in the second member of the parallel. The idea most earnestly depreciated is that of Omnipotence perverting justice,—or might making right. [88]Ver. 5. Suppliant prayer. Intensive form התחנן. [89]Ver. 10. In parables. מלים more poetical than דברים, and more sententious: sayings, adages, apologues, parables, (משׁלים) comparisons; suggesting the tropical language of the reed, the flag, and the spider, that immediately follows. מלבם, from their heart: denoting here, as is most common in Hebrew, understanding, experience, rather than feeling. The literal rendering would give to the modern reader a false idea. Hence the paraphrase. [90]Ver. 11. Grows high. יגאה; proudly, gloriously. [91]Ver. 14. The well established sense of קוט is fastidire, to loathe, with בּ when taken transitively. Intransitively, to be disgusting, or, when used of a thing, to disgust; Ezek. 16:47; Ps. 95:10; Niph. Ezek. 20:43; 36:31; Hiph. Ps. 119:158; 139:21; see Gesenius. Thus viewed, it would be literally, his confidence (כסלו) disgusts, like the sense Hieronymus gets, only he renders כסל vecordia—non-placebit ei vecordia sua. It becomes, or shows itself worthless to him. This is the idea given in the version above. The view which regards it as another form of קצץ = קוץ (to cut) seems arbitrary. Besides it would produce an incongruity of metaphor. The figure of cutting, if it had not been used just above, would be consistent with תקוה, hope; for the primary idea there is extension, drawing out (hope as a line or thread); but כסל has no such figure. It denotes confidence as derived from the ideas of strength, thickness, resistance, support, and hence it is used for stultitia folly, brute confidence, stubbornness. What is meant to be said here is, that this confidence fails; it is seen to be vile and worthless. Non placebit, as Hieronymus gays. It disgusts instead of strengthening. It cannot be objected that it is applied to the plant, for the person figured is kept in view, and the metaphor is mixed. Such failure of confidence is exactly expressed by the same word (in Niphal) Ezek. 20:43; 36:31: “And ye shall become disgusted in your own sight” (ונקטתם בפניכם) because of your evil, = כסלכם יקוט. [92]Ver. 15. Grasps it. The figure is kept. The spider breaking through the meshes of his web. [93]Ver. 17. For the justification of this rendering, see Cant. 4:12, and notes of Zöckler and Dr. Green on that passage. [94]Ver. 18. See 7:10; Ps. 103:16. The speaker enters so into his figure that he personifies the plant. Hence the personal him is to be preferred to the impersonal it. [95]Ver. 5. That moves. A contrast evidently is intended between מעתיק and the stronger word הפך. The first is the gentler and more gradual change, imperceptible though powerful (they know it not). See ch. 14:18. Hence its other sense of growing old, which it has in Hebrew as well as in Arabic. The other word denotes something sudden and violent. [96]Ver. 8. Who bent. The reference is to the work of creation, though regarded as a work still continuing. It is phenomenal language; the mighty force required to bend that strong arch, and keep it bent. Er neigt den Himmel ganz allein: Umbreit. In Ps. 18:10, the figure is that of bowing, or bending down the heavens to descend. [97]Ver. 9. Hidden constellation. Hebrew, chambers. The reference is to the southern celestial spaces, where there are no conspicuous constellations risible to our hemisphere. [98]Ver. 11. Sweeps past. Davidson’s rendering of that mysterious word יחלף. See how the infinitive is used, Isa. 21:1. [99]Ver. 13. Boldest aids. עזרי רהב. Rahab is used here and elsewhere, for any one, or anything, proud or ferocious. See Isa. 51:9; Ps. 87:4; 89:11; Isa. 30:7, etc. When used as a personification it is thought to mean Egypt, It may mean here Satan, of whom, as several passages show, aside from the Introduction, Job seems to have had some idea as his great enemy—the Devil and his allies. [100]Ver. 15. My judge. מְשֹׁפְטִי, an unusual Poel form. So Umbreit, Conant, Delitzsch, et al. Gesenius: Adversary, litigator, Davidson; Assailant. [101]Ver. 17. He who. אשר here, besides its meaning as a relative, also shows a reason, like the Greek ὁς, and the Latin qui = quia, or quoniam. There may be an anthropopathic reference to the tumult of the storm or whirlwind. Not hear me, since he is the very one who overwhelms, etc. [102]Ver. 18. Catch—הָשֵׁב, take back, recover. [103]Ver. 18. Exceeding bitterness. מררים: intensive plural—bitternesses, amaritudines, like אַשְׁרֵי beatitudines. [104]Ver. 19. A strong one! The ascribing the latter part of each of these clauses to God, by way of a supposed sudden answer, as is done by Delitzsch, Davidson, Ewald, and others, is exceedingly arbitrary. The sense is better satisfied by the simpler construction, though a very passionate and broken one. After the closest study of these abrupt and exclamatory verses (19–22), it is difficult to find anything better than what is substantially given in our English Version, somewhat improved by Conant. It is a wild, despairing utterance. There are, indeed, inconsistencies in it, but the attempt to remove them only takes away from the pathos, as well as the passionateness of the whole passage. Job has no false humility. He is utterly in the dark, and almost maddened by his sharp sufferings. God seems to him to be dealing very hardly with him: and he must say it though doing his best to preserve reverence. [105]Ver. 21. I pure! תם אני, in the 21st verse, differs neither in force, nor in construction, from the same expression in the 20th; yet a number of commentators, Ewald, Schlotmann, Davidson. Delitzsch, et al., make the second a positive, instead of a conditional declaration: “I am innocent,” said emphatically: I’ll say it though I die for it. This is opposed to the spirit of the whole passage, which, though one of deep complaining, exhibits no defiance. [106]Ver. 23. מסה, trial πειρασμός. The rendering wasting away (as though from מסם) adopted by Delitzsch, Ewald, and others, is inconsistent with the idea of sudden slaying (פתאם) mentioned in the first clause. Especially is this the case with Umbreit’s rendering, allmähliger Verzehrung, gradual consumption. [107]Ver. 24. Doth he veil. That they may not see the right. [108]Ver. 27. ואבליגה. A beautiful word. The sudden lighting up of the face. [109] Ver. 35. I am not myself. כי לא כן אנכי עמדי. A number of the best modern commentators take this as a denial of guilt: “For I am not conscious to myself of wrong;” Conant, literally, For I am not so in myself. Now, in many languages, some such expression as this is used to denote derangement—being not one’s self, or firm (כן) in one’s self—the mind wandering; as poor Lear says of himself: I fear I am not in my perfect mind. This seems to be Rosenmueller’s view: hand quidem mei sum compos. Hieronymus: Neque enim possum metuens respondere. See Note on דרך עמדי 23:10. [110]Ver. 1. My soul in bitterness. מר is an adjective (amarus). The phrase מר נפש is, strictly, bitter of soul; bitter in my soul. The rendering given, if admissible, suits better the broken and passionate context. [111]Ver. 5. The mighty man: A sub-contrast seems intended between אנוש and גבר as in 3:17. גֶּבֶר, validus—miles, Jude. 5:30; Jer. 41:18; Chald. גְּבַר, heros, miles, Ezra 2:20. Comp. גִּבּוֹר Isa. 9. גִּבֹּרִים Gen. 5:4—giants—μακρόβιοι. The want of the distinction makes the rendering very lame, as in E. V.: “Are thy days as the days of man? Are thy years as man’s days!” [112]Ver. 7. [This] guilty man. There is no claim of perfect innocence, but only that he is not the sinner whom his friends hint, or his own inexplicable circumstances would imply. [113]Ver. 9. Turn me back to dust. The argument here goes beyond the first appearance; for Job certainly knew that he must die, even if he had not heard of the declaration, Gen. 3:19. It is the remediless remaining in this state that he deprecates, whether or not distinctly conscious of it as a dogma, or an idea. In such an abandonment there seems something inconsistent with God’s care for men, and the pains he had taken in their construction, whether we call it creation or evolution. [114]Ver. 10. Like cheese. The use of this kind of language in the Koran (see Surat xxii. 5; xcvi. 2, and other places) points back to ancient Arabian conceptions and modes of speech. See also the same process more fully described in the Arabic of the old book of Apologues, entitled Calila Wa Dimna, p. 71, De Sacy Ed. [115]Ver. 11. Woven. Compare Ps. 139:15, 16. [116]Ver. 13. עִמָּךְ. With thee. In thy must secret purpose. [117]Ver. 15. But see רְאֵה is imperative. To the objection that in so taking it the construction is broken up, the answer is, that it is all the more expressive. It was meant to be broken. The language is passionate, ejaculatory. [118]Ver. 16. ויגאח. Ewald, Dillmann, Umbreit, Davidson, all refer this to ראש, the head, in the preceding verse. Merx says, characteristically, that it is sinnlos, has do meaning, and proceeds to change the text. ראש seems too far off, for a subject, and there is nothing conditional in the language: Should it lift, or if it lift up itself, then, etc.; Davidson. Conant also adopts this rendering. The E. V. refers it to עניי my affliction just mentioned: it increaseth. So Rosenmüller, as also the Jewish Commentators, Rashi and Aben Ezra. To the objection that גאה is not congruous to עני affliction, the latter answers well that it is personified as elate and swelling in its triumph over the sufferer. Hence the rendering above. [119]Ver. 22. Gloom tenebrous. The true impression of this remarkable language (vers. 21 and 22) can only be obtained by a close study of the words עֵפָתָה and תּוֹפַע. They are of a class which, in distinction from חשך, or mere privative darkness, represent its positive idea, whether real or imaginary, as having something of form, and thus a kind of visibility,—a dark, shadowy, waving, flying, floating thing,—a faintly glimmering, gleaming, gloaming, wavy motion, shading off from light (gleam, glimmer) into gloom, or darkness visible. A vibratory, pulsatory, flying, fluttering, or undulation of some kind, is the radical image in this whole family of words (עפעף ,עפף ,עוף, by metathesis יפע), and hence, along with flying, the apparently contradictory images of light and darkness. See Lange Gen. Am. Ed., p. 179 , Note. So in the Greek imagery, darkness has wings. Night is called (Aristcph. Aves. 689) μελανόπτερος, black winged. (Compare Virg. Æn. II. 360, VI. 856). There is the same radical image in the expression עַפֵעַפֵּי שָׁחַר III. 9, XLI. 10. palpebræ auroræ. eyelids of the. dawn,—the morning twilight, ἁμέρας βλεφαρον Soph. Antiq. 104. Compare the words מָעוּף and מוּעָף, Isa. 8:22, 23. [120]Ver. 22. Darkness visible. Some commentators take this in a sort of conditional way: Its very light (if it had any) shines as darkness, or its day (daytime) is as midnight darkness—“the blackness of darkness.” So we have given it, though the verb וַתֹּפַּע seems to have something more positive than this,—it shines an darkness. We cannot help thinking that Job had something of the Miltonic conception. Hieronymus, Sempiternus horror inhabitant. [121]Ver. 5. Qr, were it realty so: The force of אולם: Would God take Job at his word and appear in very truth? [122]Ver. 5. עִמָּךְ, in controversy with thee, as elsewhere used. For thy confounding; to stop thy month. [123]Ver. 6. Delitzsch, literally, “that she (wisdom) is twofold”—overlooking תושיה. Davidson paraphrases: Double, he says, is equivalent to manifold, and תושיה he renders insight, as Ewald does. Most commentators give the literal sense, double. Do we not get a good explanation of this from ch. 28, where two forms of wisdom are set forth, namely, the Divine wisdom, or the mystery of God’s providence, and the wisdom mentioned at the end of that chapter, the wisdom which is for man, “the fear of the Lord,” submission, and “departure from evil.” תושיה is substance, reality, truth—things as they are, יש. οὐσία; but it is to be contemplated under two aspects, us pertaining to God, and as pertaining to man. See Sirach 33:15; 42:24: πάντα δισσά, ἓν κατέναντι ἑνός, κ. τ. λ.. [124]Ver. 6. Ewald renders: “Overlooks much of thy guilt” which is not far fromE. V. Umbreit, Delitzsch, Dillmann, Davidson, with the Targum, give it the sense of נשה (Hiph. השה), to forget, or cause to forget, giving מ in מעונך the force of a partitive: from or of,—a portion of thy sin. “God remembers not all thy sin. The Syriac renders it, forgiveth. Vulgate has the other sense of נשה, that of exacting like a creditor. And this is the rendering of E. V., which, after all, seems the best, and most in harmony with the context. It is grammatical, too, since מ in מעונך, may denote the comparison of lets, as well as that of more, to be determined by the context. The partitive rendering: “a portion of thy sin,” seems tame. The rendering above given preserves well the association of ideas. This is one of those secrets of God’s wisdom,—the upper wisdom, or the side of the duplicate seen by Him. For God only knows what human sin deserves, and every chastisement, short of the great retribution, has mercy mingled with it. And then this admirably leads to the train of thought that follows in the exclamations below, ver. 7. עון is rendered debt to preserve the figure, which is sanctioned in the New Testament: “Forgive us our debts; our sins.” [125]Ver. 7. חקר. Mystery—unsearchableness. [126]The emphasis is on the divine names אלוה and שדי, as in 8:3. [127]Ver. 11. ולא יתבונן. The meaning is that it does not require from him a special act of study or attention, as it does from men. He never loses sight of it. He sees it though he does not seem to be looking at it. The conjugation Hith. has this sense of making to be, or assuming to be-what the verb signifies,—to make one’s-self observant. Raschi explains it well of God’s “keeping still, and long-suffering, as though he did not take note of it”—כמו שלא יתבונן. [128] Ver. 12. יִלָּבֵב. The word does not denote wisdom, as many commentators take it, or the want of wisdom, directly, or in the sense of stupidity, as Gesenius interprets it, but to be full of heart, in the sense of courage (cor, Latin cordatus sometimes), spirit, eagerness, mettlesomeness, ferocity, etc. In Cant. 4:9 the piel, לִבַּבְתִּנִי (of which this may be regarded as the passive), means, thou hast excited, roused, warmed my heart. There can be but little doubt as to the meaning, since the second clause gives a figurative explanation of it. It suggests Ecclesiastes 9:3, הוללות בלבבם, “madness in their hearts”—whence the above translation. Some accommodation to it in English might be found in the words heady, headstrong; לב, heart, in Hebrew, being used for feeling or passion, as well us for intellect. Umbreit, Ewald and Delitzsch take it as a proverb, and give it the forced rendering (in the words of the latter) Before an empty head gaineth understanding, An ass’s foal would be born a man. This is not only frigid, in itself, and forced, and at war with the gravity of the original, but cannot be brought grammatically out of the words. Man, vain man. The repetition is to give emphasis to that expressive word נָבוּב. [129]Ver. 14. This verse evidently comes in parenthetically, and therefore the participial form gives the best mode of rendering. [130]Ver. 15. מֻצָּק. Primary sense fusion, thence molten, thence the idea of a metallic column figurative of firmness and solidity. It may be that the meaning here is derived from the cognate יצג (מֻצָּג) stabilire. [131]Ver. 17. חֶלֶד. Αἰών—time-passing—a very pathetic word. Camp. Ps. 39:6; 17:14; 89:48. [132]Ver. 17. Darkness. תָּעֻפָה—a word of the same class with those mentioned in note on 10:22. [133] Ver. 18. Ashamed. This is the rendering of Gesenius, giving to חפר the same sense it has in 6:20. The other sense of the verb, to dig, and that derived from it, to search, are very forced here. See E. V., Davidson, Delitzsch, and others. Umbreit gets from Schultens, and the Arabic, the sense of protecting, which better suits the context, but is philologically without weight. The Vulgate gives the sense of digging. The LXX, as is most commonly the case in Job, is worthless. Merx renders very beautifully, though freely— Und, ob beschämt zuvor, noch sicher ruhn. [134]1 Ver. 4. Who calls o God. I who call on God. Jo means himself here, not only as a ma of prayer, קֹרֵא לֶאֱלֹוהַ, but as one known among men for the public or official performance of religious worship. So Caryl intimates, referring to Ps. 69:6, "Moses and Aaron among his priests, Samuel among those who call upon his name, בְּקרְֹאֵי שׁמוֹ. His offering sacrifice, 1:5, shows something of the priestly character. The verse is a vehement torrent of righteous indignation, ad the best traslation is that which keeps nearest to the Hebrew with all its abruptness. It was probably called out by Zophar’s comparig him to “the wild ass,” 9:12. [135] Ver. 5. A wasted lamp: לַפִּיד בּוּז. Literally a lamp of contempt, but the figure demands the idea of that for which it is despised—worn out, exhausted, either in its structure or its oil, and, therefore, thrown away as useless. The passage has been regarded as very difficult. Obscuritatem summam hujus versus omnes interpretes agnoscunt, says Schultens. “The words of this text are dark,” says the learned Puritan Caryl in his quaint style, “and there are not a few who make the lamp the darkest word in it.” And then he goes on to note the other rendering given by Aben Ezra, and which has since been adopted by the principal modern interpreters, except Umbrebit. It divides the word לַפִּיד into the noun פִּיד destruction, calamity or misfortune generally, and the servile ל, the preposition, with the sense of for or in place of: “for misfortune, contempt.” The translator was at first inclined to this view. It is, however, full of difficulties, though in some of its aspects seeming quite plausible. The rendering which Ewald, Delitzsch and others give to the words immediately following seems to suit it, especially as expressed in the concise and happy way of Merx: Dem Unglück Hohn, so wähnen Sichere:— For suffering scorn; so fancy the secure; Scorn ever ready for the tottering man. So the translator first rendered it, relying for the sense of נָכוֹן on Ps. 38:18, אֲנִי לְצֶלַע נָכוֹן, ready to halt. A more thorough study, however, produced the conviction that the older rendering of the Vulgate, the Syriac, the Targum, the Jewish commentators Kimchi, Raschi, Ben Gerson and others, Junius and Tremellius, Luther, E. V., Mercerus, Vatablus, Cocceius, and of the best of the authorities cited in Poole’s Synopsis, is the correct one. Zöckler says: “The sense of lamp makes an incongruous image in the picture.” That depends, however, on what the picture is supposed to be. “A consumed or expiring lamp,” says Conant, “would be pertinent; but a torch despised is like anything else that is despised, and the epithet requires some ground for the application.” All this question of metaphorical congruity, however, depends upon another, namely, whether the right rendering is given to עשתות. The primary sense of the verb עשת is certainly to shine. See Jerem. 5:28. Hence the noun, if rendered thoughts, must be regarded as figuratively denoting splendid, brilliant thoughts, imaginings, vain imaginations,—not simply cogitations. So עשתנות, Ps. 146:4: In that day his proud imaginations (his splendid hopes) all perish. This is quite different from his thoughts, his thinking, as the annihilationist perverts that text. In Jonah 1:6 the Hithpahel may very pertinently be rendered shine upon, instead of, “think upon.” It thus makes a very appropriate prayer for men in such a dark tempest: that the sky would clear up, or that God would shine upon them through it. So in Cant. 5:14, עֶשֶׁת means something shining, polished. So Cocceius and some of the older commentators, Christian and Jewish. If we give to עשתות here this primary sense of shining, splendor (whether of the thoughts or of the outward state), then the antithesis it presents to לפיד, the cast off, used up torch, is no longer “incongruous,” but very happy: the poor wasted thing, which Job so much resembled, as contrasted with the splendors of wealth, or the high imaginings of a soul at ease. It is the very image used Isai. 42:3, the sputtering wick or lamp, פִּשְתָּה כֵהָה (the “smoking flax”), and cited by oar Saviour, Matt. 12:20. [136]Ver. 6. All confident. Plural noun with superlative sense. [137]Ver. 6. Into whose hands, etc. This is rendered by some: “who take God in their hand;” regarding ל as repeated here from the line above. So Davidson and Delitzsch. The sense they get is, that wicked men make their hand (their own power) their God. For this there is cited Habak. 1:11, and Virg. Aen. x. 774: 27. Dextra mihi Deus. Delitzsch renders it very strangely: “who take Eloah in their hand.” The use of Eloah, however, seems strongly against this. The ellipsis in the other rendering is quite facile. [138]Ver. 8. Delitzsch excellently renders שיח “look thoughtfully to the ground.” The reference in this whole appeal (vers. 7 and 8) is not, as Ewald thinks, to the destined purpose or divine reason in suffering and in pain. That belongs to the wisdom which “the eagle’s eye hath not seen, and which is hid from all the fowls of the air;” 28:7, 21,—the deep wisdom of God. The allusion is rather to Zophar’s expression of the fact, so pretentiously set forth, as it seemed to Job, when all nature, animate and inanimate, proclaims the existence of inexplicable mystery in the divine dealings. It is not the reason that we get from nature, but the fact, whether we understand it or not, that the hand of the Lord doeth all. [139]Ver. 12. חכמה must be rendered experience to preserve the figures in the verse above. [140]Ver. 13. תבונה here is discernment or wisdom in adapting means to ends. The epithet is necessary because there is an evident intention to set in contrast the divine discernment, or perfect foresight, and the best human experience, as mentioned above ver. 12. Delitzsch defines תבונה as “that which can penetrate to the bottom of what is true or false.” There is here again a duality in wisdom as in 11:6 (כִּפְלַיִם), though not exactly the same with that referred to by the would-be philosopher Zophar above, or by Job himself, 28:23–25. It is two-fold: the wisdom of God in the processes of designing or adapting (תבונה, skill, discernment), and the higher wisdom (חכמה as עצה), which is in the design of the designs. [141]Ver. 16. Power—eternal truth. There is no desire to find too scientific or too philosophical a meaning in Job; but these are the best renderings we can give to those contrasted words עז and תושיה. The latter is the reality of things, that which makes them to be what they are, their ideas, laws or principles as distinguished here from power or force, to use the word now such a great one in science—or dynamical energy. See Daniel 11:38, מָעֻזִּים אֱלֹהַּ, the god of forces. Delitzsch renders תושיה existence, and defines it as the real in contrast with what appears. Better to have rendered it being—that which truly is—all that is, as God’s truth. See Note to 26:3. [142]Ver. 17. שׁוֹלָל, used collectively. Either literal, or as the phrase is used in Latin, captos mente, despoiled of reason. See Ps. 76: אשתוללו אבירי לב. [143]Ver. 19. So Delitzsch supplies the ellipsis. [144]So Conant. [145]Ver. 22. This word Tzalmaveth, together with Sheol and Hades, should have been naturalized in our English version. [146]Ver. 4, But ye indeed. Force of אולם. [147]Ver. 7. For God. The Hebrew order is carefully observed since the surprise is that such a thing should be done for God. [148]Ver. 7. Specious things. רמיה can hardly be taken here in the sense of intended deceit. [149]Ver. 8. The English phrase, though now becoming obsolete, is still understood from its Bible use, and is very expressive. [150]Ver. 8. Here, too, the Hebrew order is preserved. The contrast denotes surprise. [151]Ver. 10. The intensive double form, הוֹכֵחַ יוֹכִיחַ, denotes strong and open conviction. Thus it furnishes the antithesis to בַּסֵּתֶר (in secret) in the second clause. Something of the kind seems intended. It suggests, too, the idea of something almost prophetical of the conviction of Job’s friends, and their open condemnation, 42:7. [152]Ver. 11. His dread. פּחר stronger than יראה. [153]Ver. 12. משלי אפר. The rendering pictures here, may be an accommodation, but it is in harmony with the etymological and general meaning of the root. Schlottmann: Eure Denksprüche sind Aschensprüche. [154]Ver. 13. Our E. V. is very happy here. Be still from me, which is the literal rendering, is opposed to our idiom. [155]Ver. 13. Literally: come upon me what may. [156]Ver. 14. A climax: flesh and life. The literal rendering of the verse is clear. For the different views of its application see Delitzsch. [157]Ver. 15. I’ll wait. In regard to this disputed verse, everything depends on the reading, whether לֹא, or לֹו as it is in the Keri. The Masoretic authority is in favor of the latter. So are the ancient Versions, Syriac and Vulgate. See the evidence most fully and fairly summed up by Delitzsch, who adopts the rendering that has prevailed in the Church. In regard to the internal evidence, as he well says, nothing could be more Job-like. See 14:14,15; 19:25. Job’s lowest despondency is generally the season when his strangely supported spirit mounts up to the strongest expression of his never to be extinguished hope. [158]Ver. 19. Who then is HE? The one challenged here would seem to be God, although commentators generally do not thus regard it. If so, מי would properly be exclamatory, rather than interrogatory: What kind of a one? The view has some confirmation in what follows, (ver. 20), unless we suppose an abrupt change of person, a thing which indeed often occurs in Hebrew, but would not be necessary here. It explains, too, the language of the second clause. Some render this, “then shall I be silent and expire.” But such a construction as אחריש ואגוע suggests something conditional, as it is well rendered in E. V.: “If I hold my peace, I shall give up the ghost.” It looks as though Job shrunk from the challenge, but felt that he must utter it or die. The VULG. seems to have had this view in its interpolation, veniat! Let him come—let him appear: Veniat; quare tacens consumor? If the view be correct, then, there would be an emphasis on הוא, expressed, it may be, in the tone, or δεικτικῶς, as the critics say, and which is here attempted to be represented by capitals. [159]Ver. 24. Delitzsch well says: “The bold confidence expressed in the question and challenge of ver. 23 (and he might have said of ver. 19) is here changed to a sort of mournful astonishment at God’s not appearing, and his seeming to hold him as an enemy without an investigation of his case.” [160]Ver. 26. Thou dost write. Delitzsch renders thou decreest. The literal sense is better as preserving the favorite Scriptural image of God’s recording book. [161]Ver. 26. Literally, make me inherit. Others render it, possess; but that loses the most impressive figure: the old man heir to the young man’s follies. [162]Ver. 27. Making thy mark. Here, as elsewhere sometimes, the most literal rendering gives the best clue to the meaning. The translator must express his surprise at the way in which commentators have gone round and round the idea without exactly hitting it. Most of them take it as meaning “to set a bound about the feet,” to prevent his going beyond it. So Heiligstedt, Hirzel, Dillmann, Schlottmann, Conant, who cites them, and others. Gesenius: circa radices pedum meorum effodisti fossam, “dug a trench around them.” Ewald, citing Aben Ezra, held this view at first, but afterward changed it for another. He renders תתחקה dich versicherst, makest thyself sure of, which is true as an inferential conclusion, but can, in no way, be taken as a sense of תתחקה. To get it, he goes a great way, and most unnecessarily, to the Arabic chakka, v. conjugation, tachakkaka ala, certus factus—a secondary Arabic sense, derived from an older secondary Hebrew sense of the Poet, decrevit, legislavit; and then he compares it with tachakkama ala. Besides, tachakkaka is not followed by ala, but by min. Everything in the context goes to show that חקה here, = חקק, has its primary sense of marking Tremellius renders it quite literally: super radices pedem meorum imprimeris, and is followed by our English Version; “thou. settest a print upon the heels of my feet.” This gives the exact idea, except in its failure to represent the reflex, or Hithpahel, sense of תתחקה, which Delitzsch finds a difficulty, although he renders it, like so many others, “thou makest for thyself a circle around the soles of my feet.” It is not easy to see how he and others get from the words the sense surrounding, or to set round. The Hithpahel, like the Greek Middle, may be often rendered by the addition of the personal possessive pronoun. Thus, Kal, Thou markest; Hithpahel, thou makest thy mark—thy mark for thyself. This at once suggests the idea which our E. V. and Tremellius come very near expressing. It is, in general, the owner putting his mark somewhere upon his beast, that he may know it, and, in this case, more specially, putting a mark upon the foot—as on the camel’s hoof, for example, that he may track it when wandering in the desert. The Vulgate: vestigia pedum meorum considerasit, seems suggested by this, and may itself have suggested Ewald’s interpretation. The grievance Job complains of, in this case, would be like putting such a mark upon an old worn-out camel, which, instead of straying, was unable to stand up. Thus Job represents the dealing with himself, so watched, so marked, and yet so helpless. It is in perfect harmony with the complaint above, “Thou guardest all my ways,” and with what is said about “the driven leaf,” and “chasing the withered” chaff: it is all so useless, and therefore cruel. In this interpretation, there may, perhaps, be found a clue to the sudden change of person in the next verse. [163]Ver. 28. Whilst he. Job still has in mind the animal to whom his figure refers, but, at the same time, intending himself, as one thus watched, and having a mark put upon his feet to track him if he strays, although he is a poor emaciated creature, without strength to move or stand. To a Hebrew reader accustomed to it, this change (though the transition from the 1st person to the 3d is rare) would be felt as very touching. We can only supply it by an ellipsis as the translator has endeavored to do. [164]Ver. 1. This may be supposed to be said after a brief pause. [165]Ver. 2. Flees. Heb. and flees. The frequent Hebrew conjunction ו is often a mere breathing, a transition particle, merely indicating a going on of the thought. In such cases, we come nearer to the spirit of the original by leaving the passage unbound (ἀσύνδετον), than by clogging it with our heavy connective and. See the rendering of 13:23 as compared with the original. [166]Ver. 3. על זה: on this; δεικτικῶς; either by tone or gesture indicating that he moans himself; as is shown by the sudden change of person. Merx wholly destroys the pathos of this by arbitrarily changing אֹתִי into אֹתוֹ. [167]Ver. 4. O could. The optative rendering here is not only according to the usual use of מיּ יתן, but gives more distinctly the idea of inherited human depravity, and consequent disease, which here forces itself upon the mind of Job. On this account, it may be thought singular that it should be generally adopted by the more rationalizing commentators. There is hers, says Umbreit, the Oriental (!) idea of the Erbsünde; but then he immediately qualifies it as usual by saying: “Not however, in the sense of the subtile dogmatic definitions.” [168]Ver. 8. The supply of the ellipsis only gives the full meaning. [169]Ver. 10. חלש unites both these senses: fallen—wastes. It puts him in contrast with the fallen tree. [170]Ver. 11. ים may mean any large collection of water. [171]Ver. 13. שוב denotes a turning. Delitzsch, very happily: “Till thine anger change.” [172] Ver. 14. “Ah, shall he live?” הֲיִחְיֶה. This language is neither that of denial. nor of dogmatic affirmation. Between these lie two states of soul: one of sinking doubt, the other of rising hope. It depends upon the tone and manner of utterance, whilst these, again, can only be recalled to us by something in the structure of the sentence, or by the context. The particle ה is the hinge on which the sentence opens. It may be taken two ways. Its force may be regarded as confined to its own clause locally, or, with more reason, may it be supposed to rule the whole sentence; since אם is merely transitive, and here implies no doubt. It is exclamatory, as well as interrogative. If a man die, or when a man dies, ah, shall he live again That, in English, might possibly be the language of doubt, though much would depend upon contextual considerations. Or, take the other style of utterance (in English, we mean): Ah, is it so, when man dies, does he live again? This would correspond to the idea of the interrogative ה influencing the whole verse; אם being entirely subordinate. It is not despairing, nor even desponding, but an expression of wonder, rather, at the greatness of an idea striking the mind in some fresh and startling aspect. It is surprise, rather than doubt, or the state of soul which Homer so naturally, as well as vividly, represents, Iliad xxiii. 103. Achilles, like all the other Greeks, believed in the reality of a spirit world, as distinctly held in his day; yet when the dream, or the appearance of Patroclus, startles him with an unusually near and vivid thought of it, he cries out: Ὢ πόποι ἦ ῥά τίς ἐστι καὶ εἰν Ἀΐδαο δόμοισιν ψυχὴ καὶ εἴδωλον; O wonder! Is there truly in that unseen world Both soul and form? And so even the Christian believer might speak when the momentous thought comes suddenly before him with some new impressiveness. There is still another shade of the idea, near a kin to this feeling of wonder: When a man dies, does he live? That is: Is death really the way to life? Do we live by dying? See the quotation from Euripides, and the remarks in the Introduction on the Theism, page 8. In regard to the force of the context, there can be but little doubt. There is certainly a rising of hope which hits somehow come in after the mournful language of ver. 12. This prompts the prayer preceding, in ver. 13; then there is the exclamation; and then, as though from some inspiration it had given him, the strong declaration that he would wait for this change, as involving something most desirable, though wholly unknown. Immediately follow words that seem to rise to full assurance (ver. 15): “Thou wilt call, and I will answer thee; thou will have regard to the work of thy hands.” This force of the context is very clearly presented by Delitzsch. The mode of expression implies something of a traditional knowledge, to say the least: Ah, is it so, as we have heard, τὸ θρυλλούμενον—that saying rumored everywhere? For surely Job must have heard it, or heard of it. The Egyptians had it; see Diod. Sic. 1.51. According to the Rationalists themselves, the Persians and other trans-Euphratean nations must have had it long before the time they ascribe to the book of Job. If the Vedas which Merx quotes (see Int. Theism, page 16) are as old as pretended, some rumor of this idea must have crossed the Indus, and reached the land of Uz. The Greeks, we know, had it in the ante-Homeric times. There is good evidence, too, of its having been entertained by the early Arabian tribes; as is shown by passages in the Koran where the Infidels reply to Mohammed, saving: “When we are dead and have become dust and dry bones, how can we he revived? Why, this is just what we were threatened with, we and our fathers of Old; away with it; surely this is nothing more than fables of the ancient men.” See Koran Surat. XXIII. 84, 85; XXVII. 69, 70 and other places. [173]Ver. 14. Reviving. חליפה: General sense change, vicissitude, from that mysterious root חלף. It is used in connection with צבא, warfare, time of military or other service, 10:17. Here the change, naturally suggested by the context, is release from Sheol, as from a warfare, when that get time comes. There can hardly be a doubt, however, that the use of the word here is suggested to Job by the verb יחליף, which he had taken, ver. 7, to denote the regermination of the tree. This, of itself, would seem to settle it that the change in view is one of reviviscence, and the idea derives still farther aid from the use of the word, Psalms 90:5, where the Kal is applied to the flower growing up in the morning, and Ps. 102:27, where the Hiphil denotes the reviviscence of nature in the new Heavens and the new Earth. As change, it is never change from life to death; and if that were the meaning intended here, a more unfit word could not be found. [174]Ver. 15. Wilt yearn. תכסף׃ a word of great strength and pathos, well rendered yearn by Conant. In Ps. 84:3, the Niphal is used to express the longing of the soul for God and the services of his house. There it is joined with כלה; “pines, yea faints my soul for the courts of the Lord.” In Gen. 31:30, it is used to describe Jacob’s intense longing for home. And this is the word which, by a blessed anthropopathism, is used here to express God’s longing for the handy work which he had once so curiously and marvelously made. [175]Ver. 16. על gives תשמור here an intensive sense. The connection only occurs elsewhere in Prov. 5:22, where it is taken in bonam partem. In both cases, it has the sense of guarding for the sake of preserving. The idea is that there in no need any more of guarding or watching over Job’s sin, lest it should be lost, for it is sealed up—tied fast in God’s fasciculus, or bundle (compare the same word, צרור, ver. 17, as used 1 Sam. 25:29, for the “bundle of life”). Such seems to be the train of thought, and it makes clear a passage which has been supposed to present no little difficulty in consequence of an apparent disagreement between its two clauses. The interrogatory rendering, as given in E. V., and elsewhere, is a forced help. The Vulgate regards לא תשמור as a prayer: Do not watch over my sins—parce peccatis meis; but that makes an unnecessary variance of construction between the two clauses and the two verbs תשמור and תספור. The word חָתֻם following gives a clue to the explanation. [176]Ver. 17. Sewest up. Gesenius gives טפל a secondary sense suggested by the Greek phrase δόλον ῥάπτειν—“to sew falsehood against my iniquity.” This suits Ps. 119:69; but there it is עלי, against me, against the person, not against the sin, which would be an absurdity. It would be here, moreover, an unnecessary departure from the other figures. [177]Ver. 18. Yes, even the mountain. The expressive particle, אולם, as it occurs in Job, often denotes a kind of soliloquizing pause. It makes an emotional rather than a logical transition, suggestive rather than adversative. It may be supposed to refer to something thought, rather than expressed. What is the point of the comparisons that here start up in the mind of the musing, partly controverting, partly soliloquizing Job? It is a question which commentators have had difficulty in answering. The connective link would seem to be something suggested by the thought of deliverance from Sheol. ver. 15. But “how long! O Lord, how long!” as the Psalmist so expressively says. The mind of Job, beginning to fall back into its despondency, is led to a mental consideration of the slow changes of nature, and his breaking out with אולם is a sort of answer to the thought that had silently intervened: Ah, yes; God’s times are long; the earth, too, and the heavens (see vers. 11 and 12) are passing away. “Yes, even the mountain falling crumbles to decay.” The effect of this is to throw a shade over his hope, until at the end of the chapter he seems to have got almost wholly to his old despairing state. [178]Ver. 18. In the version given there is an attempt to combine the two senses of עתק so closely suggestive of each other, namely age and removal. See Note 9:5. [179]Ver. 19. Wears the stones: the pebbles on the beach made round and smooth by the ablution of the waters. It is a phenomenon suggestive, even to the most common mind, of long duration. One might almost fancy it a description of geological changes. [180]Ver. 20. Thou overpowerest. Delitzsch: “Thou seizest him,” from an Arabic usage. The other rendering, though the verb occurs but in two other places, 15:24 and Ecclesiastes 4:12, gives a clear sense, and is to be preferred for its harmony with the figures of the context. [181]Ver. 22. It reminds us of the wailing ghost in Homer. Job could hardly have believed it as a fact, and yet he seems here to have indulged the imagination of the body retaining feeling in the grave, and the soul, or life, in some way, sympathizing with it. It may be regarded, too, as an intensive expression of the dead man’s indifference (see Ecclesiastes 9:5, 6) to all things in the world above. There may, perhaps, be meant the supposed state in Sheol, according to the dark view taken 10:22, as though Job had fallen back to that gloomy conception, unrelieved by the hope that gleams out in some of the verses above. [182]Ver. 22. Within him. Literally, by him, upon him, very near to him. The second עליו, though a repetition of the one above, may be regarded as including both ideas. It is that thought of continued being referred to, Int. Theism, pa. 3. [183]Ver. 2. Tempest. קדים. Literally the East wind (Eurus), but used for any violent blast (Hos. 12:2; Isaiah 27:8, בְּיוֹם קָדִים “in the day of the East wind”). In the first clause, as Heiligstedt says, there is the idea of inanity; in the second, of vehemence. [184]Ver. 2. His soul. בטן. Ewald takes this literally, the belly, or stomach, as opposed to the heart. The Hebrew, however, as well as the Arabic word, is figurative of the most interior department of the soul; as in the phrase חדרי בטן Prov. 18 and 24:22. Same phrase Prov. 20:27. Comp. Heb. 4:12. [185]Ver. 5. Rules, or guards thy month. So Raschi, followed by Schlottmann and Dillmann. The subject being general, the gender makes no difference. [186]Ver. 8. (Its) wisdom: The deep wisdom of God, as spoken of 28:23–27, which man cannot find. [187]Ver. 10. שָׂב means the hoary; יָשִׁישׁ, one still older, and כביד ימים (like the Arabic), one still older—as old as Job’s father would have been. [188]Ver. 11. So gently. לָאַט. The older versions and commentators made this a root, and gave it generally a bad sense, supposed to come from the idea of involving, covering—like the Syriac. Hence our E. V. renders it a secret thing (some horror, or mystery). Vulgate: verba prava. Modern commentators, more correctly, make it from אט, or אטט, denoting something gentle, whether of sound or motion,—onomatopic, at, al, light moving. The Preposition ל added makes it an adverbial phrase. See Isaiah 8:6, “the waters of Shiloh,” הָהֹלְכִים לְאַט that flow so gently. In this second clause Eliphaz may have meant thus to characterize his own speech, referring probably to the opening words 4:2, 3, 4. It is certainly not descriptive of the style they soon adopted. [189]Ver. 12. Thy heart. The feeling it must mean here, though לב more usually denotes mind. [190]Ver. 12. Quivering. The word רזם, or, as in Arabic and Syriac רמז, is generally rendered to wink; but here seems to denote that rapid, nervous, moving of the eye which is the sign of irrepressible agitation. The rendering, rolling the eye, as of anger or defiance, seems too harsh. [191]Ver. 13. Thy rage; רוחך, see Jude. 8:3; Isa. 25:4: 30:28; Zech. 6:8; Prov. 16:32; 29:11. Ewald, Wuth. [192]Ver. 13. Hieronymus : hujuscemodi sermones. [193]Ver. 14. Of woman born. Eliphaz here, as Job 14:1 and 4, seems to connect the being born of woman with the generic impurity—the erbsünde, or hereditary depravity. [194]Ver. 16. The abhorred. Exasperated by Job’s refusal to make the demanded confession, Eliphaz goes much beyond the corresponding language used by him, 4:19. There is a mingling of commiseration in that passage. Here it is the blackest painting lacking the tenderness of Paul. [195]Ver. 19. Alien blood. The Arabian claim of wisdom for purity of blood. See this well explained by Delitzsch. See remarks on the conjecture of Merx, Int. Theism, pa. 11. [196]Ver. 20. מִתְחוֹלל from חול, a very strong word—tormented. [197]Ver. 20. Numbered years. In such a connection מספר denotes fewness, Numb. 9:10; Deut. 23:6. [198]Ver. 20. Wait; נצפנו, are hidden, laid up (see 14:13), reserved. So Ewald, whom the translator has followed in sense. There is, however, another rendering which has some claim, and which makes it an independent clause: the fewness of his years are hidden—unknown to the bandit. In the other מספר is the time how long. [199]Ver. 21. Invader. שׁוֹדֵד, literally waster or destroyer, but most commonly used of an invading host. [200]Ver. 22. Watches. It is in form strictly the passive participle צפו for צפוי, but it makes an intensive expression in whatever way we take it. “Watched for the sword”—preserved for it, aufbewahrt, Ewald. Delitzsch and Zöckler, “selected,” ausersehen. E. V., “waited for of the sword.” Conant, “destined.” The idea among them all is that he is to die by the sword—kept for that death and no other. In this rendering the preposition אֱלֶי makes a difficulty, unless it be meant that the sword is watching for him, looking towards him. The same idea, however, may be obtained, and even more vividly, by taking another view of the word. The Vulgate renders it circumspectans undique gladium, as though they had read the active participle צֹפֶה. It may, however, be defended, without any textual change, by regarding צפוי here as we take יָדוּעַ, Isaiah 53:3, in the phrase ידוע חלי, literally, known of pain; rendered, acquainted with grief, knowing pain—pain knowing him. The construction is not exactly the same, but so near that one passage strongly suggests the other. Umbreit gives it this active rendering: und ängstlich schaut er nach dem Schwerte, and compares it with Cant. iii. 8, כלם אחוזי חרב, literally, all held of the sword,—that is, all holding the sword. Such a construction of a passive verb or participle with an object, direct or indirect, is common in Greek. [201]Ver. 24. Like a chieftain armed. This rendering comes easy, if we regard כִּידוֹר, occurring only here, as simply another orthography for the more frequent כידון a spear (liquid ן for ר). In this view compare it with Prov. 6:11, אִיש מָגֵן, man of shield. [202]Ver. 25. The strong. There is not only an emphasis, but a climax in the divine names, אֵל and אֶל שַׁדַּי, as used here. The translator has attempted to preserve this in the etymological significance of אֵל. Defied: יתגבר superbivit, contumax est. Ver. 26, with stiffened neck. Compare Psalm 75:6. [203]Ver. 27. Muscle thick upon his loin. The word muscle as here used, is an accommodation to the sense. Suet or tallow would have been nearer to the Hebrew פִּימָה, but they would have been unpoetical to an English ear, besides making something like a tautology. פִּימָה (pima), isthe Greek πιμελή, the covering or enveloping folds of fat generally, στέαρ (חלב), though sometimes the meanings seem reversed. The Greek πιμελὴ evidently means the enveloping fat, Soph. Antig. 1011. See President Woolsey’s clear note upon the passage. Both figures here represent a man prospering, proud, and wanton—growing fat and lusty. [204]Ver. 28. So dwells he. The translator has given וַיִּשְׁכּוֹן here a consequential sense, though in opposition to Delitzsch, Dillmann, Umbreit, Zöckler, and others. De Wette agrees with it in substance, in his rendering datum bewohnet. It is consistent, too, with Ewald’s rendering of כי, ver. 27, as making a protasis. (Though he has covered, or if he has covered (Hab er sein Gesicht mit Fett bedeckt). Rosenmüller, too, makes this inhabiting desolate cities a punishment, and, therefore, a consequence. The great difficulty in the other view is the making this dwelling in ruined cities, fast going to decay, one of the bad man’s sins, all the more out of congruity, too, by coming so directly after that other sin of so different a character, represented in language figurative of pride, and insolent outward prosperity. Delitzsch and others make all of vers. 25, 26, 27, 28, the prodosis, and commence the apodosis, or consequence, with לא יעשיר, he shall not be rich, in the 29th : “Because he stretched, etc.,—and ran—and covered—and abode in desolate cities—therefore, he shall not be rich.” The latter part, at least, seems very unconsequential. The objection to the other view is answered by the fact that the conjunction ו may be truly conversive, and yet retain the consequential sense which it so frequently has,—connecting, indeed, but as a logical, instead of a mere eventual following. Whether this is so, in any case, is to be determined by the context, which here certainly seems greatly to favor it. As conversive, it simply makes the tense following take the form of the preceding, and such is the nature of conditional clauses in all languages that the question of absolute times becomes a matter of indifference as compared with the fact of the consequential relation. They may be in the past, or in the present, or in the aorist: He made, etc.—therefore he dwelt: Or, he covers, and therefore dwells. The English may be brought very near this Hebrew idiom by using a lighter transition particle than therefore: He stretches out—he covers—so dwells he, etc. [205]Ver. 28. Fast hastening. The word יתעתדו has given commentators unnecessary trouble. Delitzsch renders it appointed, Conant, destined, which is better. The primary idea of the word is near futurity, something impending—promptus, paratus (עתיד). The Hithpahel is not passive, but reflex and intransitive. [206]Ver. 28. Rubbish heaps, גַּלּים. See Isa. 38:26: גלים נצים, grass-grown heaps. [207]Ver. 30. Scorching flame. שַׁלְהֶבֶת, an intensive word; see Cant. 8:6; Ezek. 21:3. [208]Ver. 32. בְּלֹא יוֹמוֹ: Its day not yet; or prematurely. [209]Ver. 35: Is conceived. The verbs are in the infinitive active, to conceive, etc., but they are best rendered passively. Literally, at the conceiving, etc. Comp. Ps. 7:5. [210]Ver. 35. Deception; מִרְמָה; not self-deceit, as Delitzsch and Zöckler take it. That is too artificial. [211]Ver. 3. Emboldens. This sense of ימריצך is determined by 6:25, 1 Kings 2:8 (Niph.), and Mic. 2:10, without going to the Arabic. [212]Ver. 4. Array, אחבירה. The word on Hiphil means more than simply joining. It denotes association in bands (fœdus junxit), or a concert of speech and action between his assailants. [213]Ver. 5. Thus with my mouth. E. V. inserts the adversative word but, giving a different turn to the sense; as though he had said: O, no; instead of, that I would have strengthened yon. There is, however, nothing that warrants it. The style is direct, seemingly ironical, but full of pathetic reproach. The emphasis of the first clause is on mouth: with my mouth merely, and not from the heart. The same idea in the second clause in ניד שפתי. The words in brackets, or something like them, are but the complement of the idea. Three passages, Prov. 24:11; Ps. 78:50; Job 33:18, to cite no others, place the meaning of יחשן here beyond doubt. In the first it is a holding back from slaughter (rescuing); in the second, from death; and in the third, from corruption. The word thus gets, even when standing alone, the general sense of delivering or saving. Conant comes nearest to this by rendering uphold. Delitzsch, to soothe (lindern), is without authority. [214]Ver. 6. What (pain) from me departs? Literally, what goeth from me? but the reference to his unlessened sorrow is evident. [215]Ver. 7. Ah, surely now. The pathetic participle אַךְ. [216]Ver. 7. Made desolate. הֶלְאָנִי demands a stronger sense here than weary. [217]Ver. 7. Household. So Conant and Delitzsch. It may be my clan or tribe, but here it is used of his household, because of its numbers: my domestic congregation. The sudden change of person increases the pathos. [218]Ver. 8. And shriveled up my skin. E. V. gives the same idea: “hath filled me with wrinkles.” This rendering of קמט agrees with the Vulgate, and Delitzsch returns to it after it had been generally abandoned by the commentators. The word is common in the Syriac, where this sense of wrinkling is constant. See how it is invariably used in the Peschito Version of the Old Testament—Deut. 34:7 (Moses’ face was not wrinkled), Ezek. 6:9; 20:53. [219]Ver. 8. A sight to see. Literally it is for a witness or a sign—ecce signum. The accompanying action would probably be Job’s showing them his emaciated countenance. [220]Ver. 9. His anger rends. By most commentators the language here and in some of the verses below is used in reference to God. It is, however, not easy to believe that this is wholly so, Raschi says, without any seeming doubt on the matter, השטן הוא הצר, “The enemy here is Satan:” Mine enemy sharpens his eye at me. Job must have had some idea of a great persecutor who was not God, and who is spoken of in the Prologue. Or the two ideas may perhaps be mingled. Beginning to complain of God, as usual, the Kind turns to this other adversary. Or it may be supposed that the imagination, in his half-maddened state (see Remarks on 9:35), brings up before him the appearance of a furious mocking fiend, and then the picture takes the plural form. It is a company of fiends: They gape upon me with their mouths; and that brings out the language of ver. 11: God hath delivered me unto the evil one; he hath cast me off into the hands of the wicked, or the malignant; the word עויל being used very much as the New Testament uses ὁ πονηρός. Some of this language may have reference to his human accusers, such as the second and third clauses of ver. 10; but the other view is more in accordance with his frenzied state, or all these thoughts may be regarded as mingled together. [221]Ver. 10. Fill their ranks. By this rendering the nearly related Hebrew and Arabic senses of מלא are combined. [222]Ver. 11. Malignant. So רשעים may be rendered, whatever application is given to it. [223]Ver. 11. Cast me forth; ירט, once occurring, but having clearly the sense of the Arabic ורט, precipitem dedit. LXX ἔῤῥιψε. [224]Ver. 12. Dashed. פצפץ, dashed in pieces—a very strong word. The context shows the action intended. The view we may have of this awful language, as spoken of God or Satan, does not affect the correctness of the translation. [225]Ver. 14. Breach on breach. It can hardly be doubted that the reference here is to the calamity after calamity that Satan brought upon Job as told in the Prologue. It is certainly uncritical to suppose that Job’s great enemy is wholly lost sight of in the subsequent chapters. Nothing, too, could be more undramatic. [226]Ver. 17. For no wrong I had done. Compare the precisely similar construction Isai. 53:9, על לא חמם, badly rendered; “because he had done no wrong”—rather: for no wrong he had done. [227]Ver. 18. Cover not my blood. There seems certainly here the idea of the murderer and the pursuing avenger of blood. Can Job mean to speak of God in this way? or does he not rather intend the Evil One, by whose idea he seems haunted, whatever might have been the measure of his knowledge of such a being. In the Prologue, Satan appears as his murderer—the same who is called ἀνθρωπόκτονος, John 8:44—a homicide from the beginning—the old murderer who slew the human race. There seems to be something of the same cry against him 19:25. It is implied in the words: I know that my Goel (my avenger), my Redeemer liveth—my nearest of kin. The language immediately suggests the cry of Abel’s blood. [228]Ver. 19. My witness. This pathetic and solemn appeal to the Witness in the Heavens furnishes strong evidence that Job could not have had God in view in any of the harsh language which so marks this chapter. [229]Ver. 21. That He himself. There can be no other subject for ויוכח an God, however strange the aspect it seems to give the sentence. Such is the view entertained by the best commentators, though some of them, like Delitzsch, give the verb the sense of deciding (Conant: do justice to), instead of the truer sense of arguing, pleading for. The pure, unmodified idea of the Hiphil is that of arguing, reasoning, contending in words; but whether for or against is to be determined by the context and the subject matter. It may mean the arguing of a mediator, an arbiter, or an advocate. The places in Job that are decisive of the meaning here are 9:33: There is no arbiter between us; 13:3: where הוֹכֵחַ is equivalent to “speaking to, or pleading with the Almighty;” 13:15: “I will defend my ways (plead my cause) before Him.” Again, the preposition עִם in this place modifies it to the same sense as in chap. 23:7. It is true that there the form is Niphal נוֹכָח עִמּו, but that only gives it a middle or deponent bearing, without affecting the general idea. It denotes, in the Niphal, mutual pleading, reasoning together as in Isaiah 1:18. The present passage, and Job 23:7, are the only ones where we find the verb connected with עִם, which seems consistent only with the sense of arguing or pleading for. The idea of arguing against would here be certainly much out of place. “Deciding for” (Delitzsch), or “doing justice to” (Conant), do not differ much from the idea of arguing for, but they unnecessarily mar the pathos of the passage, whilst Delitzsch’s rendering, “against God,” instead of with God (עִם), seems entirely unwarranted. It may present a difficulty to the Rationalist, this “pleading of God with God;” but the mystery, the strange idea, contained in the tearful prayer which his extreme and helpless misery forces from the soul of Job is cleared up in the New Testament. Umbreit also gives this translation, making God the subject of וְיוֹכַח, but the view he presents of it is certainly characteristic: “Job, in a melancholy, but ingenious way, says to God, that he must stand by him against God (Gott muss mir beistehen gegen Gott), for it is He who lets him suffer, and He is the only one who knows how innocent he is.” Melancholy, indeed, it is to think how blind the otherwise acute eye of the Rationalist to the deep spirituality of a thought so tender, and at the same time so sublime! [230]Ver. 21. As one. In וכן the ו is comparative, as is often the case. [231]Ver. 22. Come and go. The Hebrew אתה includes both directions, like the Greek ἔρχομαι. It demands here its full meaning. [232]Ver. 1. My breath is short. It seems best here to follow the primary sense of חבל to bind tight—funem adstrinxit, contorsit. It is stricture and shortness in the breathing. [233]Ver. 1. Quenched. דעד = זעד. Their light is gone out. See Prov. 13:9. [234]Ver. 2. Were it not. אם לא makes a strong affirming when there is supposed to be a silent apodosis. It is a kind of imprecation, as though one should say coarsely, or strongly, “I’ll be cursed, if it is not so, or so.” In this way it comes in Hebrew, and is very frequent in Arabic. There are two reasons against it here, though adopted by so many commentators: 1st, There is nothing in the context that demands anything so strong; 2d, the idea of a silent apodosis is not to be resorted to where there is an open one so clearly expressed. The conjecture may be hazarded that by mockeries, here, הֲתֻלִּים (illusiones) Job had in view the mocking fiends, whom his imagination, or something more real, perhaps, had brought out, as in 16:9, 10—the “gaping mouths,” the “gnashing teeth,” the “glaring eye.” They may be supposed to come from the same cause, whether it be his bodily or mental state, that produced the “scaring visions,” 7:14. It was these mocking illusions that drove him to frenzy. Were it not for these, he could more calmly bear the taunts of his friends, one of which may have been, perhaps, the very language which Job repeats from them, ver. 5. [235]Ver. 3. Calmly rest: תָּלַן. Literally, lodges; in Kal., pernoctare, to lodge all night. Delitzsch, lingers; Conant, dwells. An affecting picture of helpless suffering—spoken of them, but addressed to God—as appears in next verse. [236]Ver. 3. Lay down now. שימה: lay down the pledge. [237]Ver. 3. Be my surety. ערבני; the same word used in Hezekiah’s supplication, Isaiah 38:14. Addressed to God. The same wondrous thought we have 16:21. [238]Ver. 3. Ah who. The interrogative מי, here, does not so much express doubt as wonder at the thought of Him, the marvellous Surety. [239]Ver. 4. From insight, that is, from seeing this mystery of God pleading with God for man, and becoming surety with himself. [240] Ver. 5. For booty, לְחֵלֶק, for a division of the spoil. This verse looks like a proverbial saying which Job quotes against their faithlessness. In the direct order, as he gives it, it would be rendered thus: For booty he betrays his friends; His children’s eyes shall fail;— the second clause being consequential; as proverbs of this kind sometimes stand in Solomon’s collection. We are compelled to supply a relative, or a particle. Or it may be that he is repeating, as before said, one of their own taunts or bywords; and thus suggesting the language of the next verse. [241]Ver. 6. Vilest of the vile. תֹּפֶת is literally a spitting, or something to be spit upon; one on whose face any one may spit; (onomatopic like Greek πτύω). In such a case as this, translating literally is translating falsely, if it gives the modern reader the idea that there is meant the very action lexically expressed. It is not easy to believe that Job’s face was actually spit upon; and therefore it is best to render the phrase by what it represents, and of which the action itself, as pictured, may be called the language. [242]Ver. 7. My moulded limbs, וִיצֻרַי—fromיצר to form, fashion. The contrast between his limbs in their original form and proportion, and their shrunken state. [243]Ver. 11. Asunder rent, נתקו. The figure of the weaver’s loom; Umbreit. Compare Isaiah 38:12. [244]Ver. 12. They give—light is drawing near. ישימו.—They put. But who are they? See Note Job 7:3. They may be the invisible enemies whom Job fears to name; or if he refers to the friends it may be with a like aversion. The first is the more probable. The common grammatical explanation: the active used for the passive, is an evasion. Many commentators almost reverse the sense above given, by supposing Job to have represented the sophistical reasoning of the friends: “They put (as they suppose) day for night.” Delitzsch, “They explain night as day,”—a very forced rendering. Umbreit: “They would change night into day”—that is, encourage and flatter Job. They had never done this, or, in any way, tried to make things look fair to him; since the verses, ch. 11:16–19, are only conditional predictions. There seems, moreover, no good reason why ל in ליום may not have the sense above given to it as most literally translated: for day—instead of day. The second clause, too, has been made more difficult than would seem necessary. It is true that in Hebrew the preposition following קרב is usually ל or אל; but in such a case as this, there is nothing unnatural in regarding it as denoting a short distance from, so as to make מ the proper preposition—just like the Latin prope abest. The light is near (that is but a short distance from) the face or edge of the darkness (see Job 26:10), like the sun in an eclipse just going into the penumbra, or into the total shadow. And this agrees admirably with the context. Relationally, ל and מ, thought seeming opposites, are so near akin that they are sometimes united to denote both from and to the point which may be regarded as either that of contact, or of separation: As Deut. 4:32, למן היום, 2 Sam. 7:1; Haggai 2:18, and other places, for which see Noldius, Concord. Partic., pa. 441. The naturalness of this is more easily acknowledged when it is considered that the Arabic verbs of nearness are generally followed by מן instead of אלי, and especially is this the case with this very verb קרב, where it has the sense of being near (propinquus fuit). Near from, they say, instead of near to. This seems to be Schlottmann’s rendering, and Conant’s expressive version is closely allied to it: “light is just before darkness,”—just going out. Dillmann and others take מ as comparative: näher als das Angesicht der Finsterniss; but this makes no clear sense. [245]Ver. 15. Alas! The interjection is justified by the pathos of the repetition: My hope; yes, my hope, alas; with the emphasis on the pronoun. [246] Ver. 16. Gates: בדי. Umbreit, Rosenmueller, and others, render it solitidudines (Oeden), deriving the idea from the supposed primary sense of בדד ,בד (לבד, solus). But the better view comes in another way—from the true primary sense of separation. So most distinctly the Arabic בַּדַּ. Hence the sense of vectes, bar, that which separates, so often used in Exodus, etc., in the description of the tabernacle. Hence it may well be rendered gates, as above, giving an idea the same with the שערי מות gates of death (gates of Sheol) Job 38:17; Ps. 107:18. It is the idea of returnlessness— The undiscovered country, from whose bourn, No traveler returns. Homer uses this same figure of gates or bars. See Iliad 21:72, πύλας Αΐδαο, the gates of Hades. In the Odyss. xi. 571, Hades is called εὐρυπυλὲς δῶ, “the house of the wide gates to indicate the vast population it enclose.” There is the same idea of separation in a strange Arabic word Barzach, meaning the interstice, or separating interval, whether of space or time, between the present and the coming world. Among other places in the Koran, see Surat. xxiii. 102, “Behind them stands the Barzach, until the day of the Resurrection.” [247]Ver. 16. In dust. על עפר, here, must have the same meaning with לעפר, 7:22. [248]Ver. 1. Of words a prey. קנצי מלים, huntings or catchings of words. For this rendering see the conclusive reasons given by Ewald and Delitzsch. How long will ye: It is addressed to all. Bildad makes the shortest speeches, and he reproves the other two, as well as Job, for their prolixity. [249]Ver. 5. Yet true it holds. גם, yea, verily, so it is. Umbreit, allerdings. It is the view so often presented by him and the others in opposition to an opinion, which they suppose Job to hold, that God favors the wicked. This misunderstanding gives the key to much of their language. See Int. Theism, pa. 33. Bildad means to reaffirm it in spite of all Job may say. [250]Ver. 7. Straitened. Comp. Prov. 4:12. [251]Ver. 7. Casts him down. Comp. Job 5:13. [252]Ver. 8. His own chosen way. The Hithpahel, יתהלך, denotes one’s way of life whether good or bad. (Comp. Gen. 5:22; 17:1, etc. Ps. 39:7, et al.) There is also in the Hithpahel more or less of the reflexive sense—the way of his choice—and that makes a parallelism with the Terse above—“by his own feet.” [253]Ver. 12. His woe. The rendering strength here as though it were אֹן, vires, instead of the construct of אָוֶן, calamity, trouble—makes no satisfactory sense. It is adopted by Conant from E. V., and maintained by many commentators, Ewald, Dillmann, Merx, Rosenmueller, et al. Hirzel and Delitzsch make it construct of אָוֶן, though the rendering of Delitzsch much obscures the idea. The Vulgate renders it strength: attenuetur fame robur ejus. The Syriac (Peschito) the best of the old versions, especially of Job, gives the rendering the translator has adopted, “his sorrow shall be hungry:” It hungers after him like a ravenous beast ready to devour.” See the figures ver. 13. [254]Ver. 13. To eat. The Fut. form יאכל, in its connection here with the preceding verse, has the force of the infinitive. [255]Ver. 13. Death’s first-born. It is an awful personification. Diseases are Death’s sons, but the strongest among them, the mighty first-born, is the terrible elephantiasis. If Bildad really meant Job’s disease, and Job himself, as the true subject of such a fearful picture as he has drawn, then may he indeed be regarded as coarse and cruel. Raschi has a strange idea here. The בדים, Ver. 13, are Job’s sons and daughters; מבטח, ver. 14, is his wife. [256] Ver. 14. King of Terrors. The awful King; if we may thus render בַּלָּהוֹת, taking it, as most commentators do, for בהלות. As coming from בלה, it would mean strictly king of wastings, or of emaciations, which would make it in harmony with the idea of Death in the verse above: The Father of Diseases is the מלך בלהות, or as Homer would style him by a similar figure (see Odys. xi. 491): βασιλεὺς νεκύεσσι καταφθιμένοισιν—king of the wasted dead,—the imagery being drawn from the last stages of emaciating disease in this life. It is the idea in the word אֲבַדּוֹן Job 26:6; 28:22, the Abaddon of Rev. 9:11, or the one described, Heb. 2:14, as τὸν τὸ κράτος τοῦ ἔξοντα τοῦ θανάτου. If not in sound, yet in idea, would it be a more fearful epithet than the other, as calling up the pallida Mors of the classic poet, and, above all, that most awful image of wasting, emaciating disease, the χλωρὸς ἵππος, the “pale horse” of Rev. 6:8, with “him who sat thereon, whose name was Death, and Hades following hard after him.” The thought of terror merely, falls far below the soul-awing, yet still fascinating, power of such a representation. Ver. 14. Doth it march him on. Delitzsch says that “the ‘it’ here is a secret power, as elsewhere the feminine prefix is used to denote the dark power of natural and supernatural events, though sometimes the masculine is thus employed.” This would make it a kind of impersonal fate, or fatality, of which, it is true, there are some traces to be found in the book (see Int. Theism, pa. 23). But there is no need of finding the subject of the verb תצעידהו in such an abstract conception. It may be regarded, in strict grammatical construction, as the hungry woe, or the first-born of Death, although the gender is changed to the feminine to make it more universal—the feminine in Hebrew thus supplying the place of the lacking neuter. [257]Ver. 15. His pleasant place, or home, נָוֶה. [258]Ver. 15. Is showered: יזֹרֶה, lit. is scattered; but here seems to denote a shower like that which fell on Sodom and Gomorrah. [259]Ver. 16. His roots dried up—his branch cut off, etc. It makes it more vivid to render the verbs in this verse and the next, as participles with a nominative independent. [260]Ver. 18. Do they drive. For such use of they, see Note 7:3. Comp. Ps. 49:15, לִשְׁאוֹל שַׁתּוּ. They put (or drive) them into Sheol. Comp. also Job 19:26. [261]Ver. 18. And chase. The idea of Ps. 49:15 is also in Prov. 14:32, though there it is expressed passively, כְּרָעָתוֹ יִדָּחֶה רָשָׁע, “the wicked man is driven away in his wickedness.” [262]Ver. 20. Men of the West. For the reasons of this rendering, see Umbreit, Delitzsch, and others. Conant, however, adheres to the old rendering. [263]Ver. 21. Unrighteous men; עַוָּר: Here taken collectively. [264]Ver. 3. Act as strangers. The translator abides here by E. V. The rendering is obtained by regarding תַּהְכְּרוּ as the Hiphil of the Hebrew root נכר (the characteristic ה preserved) with the sense of the piel. Schultens, according to Gesenius, thus regards it as for תַּהְכִירוּ with which he compares יַדרְכוּ, Jerem. 9:2. See also יַדְבְּקוּ, 1 Sam. 14:22; 31:2. The later commentators generally get its sense from the Arabic הכר, and render it stun, or confound. But that is straining the Arabic word, which means simply to affect with admiration, besides leaving wholly unexplained the preposition ל that follows. This is quite natural to the Hebrew verb, and also to the really corresponding Arabic נכר; as in the V. Conj. תנכר ל, to be estranged, to act like a stranger to any one. [265]Ver. 4. Lodges. תלין—pernoctat—tarries all night. [266]Ver. 6. Cast me down. There is no need of going beyond, here, to get the sense of injustice, as some do. Umbreit well renders it, mich beugt, bent down, humbled me. Zöckler also gives it clearly by gekrummet, crooked, or curved me. There is indeed complaint in the next verse, but it does not amount to a direct charge of injustice. It may be said, too, that in the language of the 7th verse Job had the friends in view. It was their wrong he cried out against. [267]Ver. 10. I am gone—וָאֵלֵךְ. Compare a similar pathetic use of οἴχομαι by the Greek Dramatic poets. See Soph. Ajax, 896, οἴχωκ’, ὄλωλα. [268] Ver. 17. My temper—strange. That aversion in some sense is intended here cannot be doubted; but in what way is it signified? The translator had much doubt in respect to רוחי, rendered generally breath, but which he has here ventured to translate temper, as the word m used, Prov. 25:28, where it is indeed translated spirit, but in the sense of passion, animus agitatus et commotus. This agrees with the immediate context, as well as with what is said of the wife in the Prologue. His spirit was alien to her. She did not understand him, his mind, his feeling, his state of soul. When he said, “the Lord gave, the Lord hath taken, etc.,” she regarded it as stoical indifference. She knew nothing of the deep feeling underlying the declaration, his yearning for the lost as measuring the depth of his resignation, before insufferable bodily agony drove him to the outcry of chap. 3 (see Int. Theism, pa. 28). She said to him, “Curse God and die.” She was not at all the woman to appreciate Job, and under a sense of this he might well say, that she had come to regard him with aversion; and perhaps she had wholly abandoned him. Certainly the absence of all such allusion to incidents mentioned in the prologue would be more strange than their presence. It would furnish an almost unanswerable argument to those who maintained the later authorship of the prose portion. With this rendering would well agree what follows if we keep the common familiar sense of חַנּוֹת, whether regarded as an infinitive (like שׁמּוֹת, Ezek. 36:3) or as a plural feminine noun—my yearning, or yearnings, my tender feelings for the dear ones lost, for my desolate household (see 16:7 and note). She repels me from her (he seems to say) eyen in the manifestation of my deepest grief. The sense of חנן very uniform in the Hebrew—tender feeling—gracious feeling—a going out of the soul towards anything. Hence, in Hithpahel, a tender supplication for grace and mercy, coming like the nouns תִּחִנָּה and תַּחֲנוּן from the frequent Kal imperative חָנֵּנִי, have mercy upon me. Prayer is the saying over of this tender formula. The verb, it is true, has the direct accusative for its object; but in the infinitive it would require the preposition of direction, and none more appropriate than ל or אלי. This is the preposition following it in Arabic; and here it may be remarked that there is hardly another case of two words of the same form, in Hebrew and in Arabic, that so closely agree in all their applications and derivatives. “He was or became affected with a yearning, longing, or desire, or an intense emotion of grief or of joy:” Such is the definition that Lane gives from an extended study of the most copious native Arabic Lexicons. This is the very spirit of the Hebrew root. The rendering רוחי my breath is not inconsistent with it. The breath may be taken for that which is most familar in the personality; or if regarded as denoting offensiveness, it may be said to have caused the unfeeling woman to repel everything in him, even his yearning for, or any mention of, his lost children. To get this idea of offensiveness, however, we must give an unusual sense to זרה (strange) making it the same with זָרָא fastidium, as used Numb. 11:20. But they cannot be the same word, as א there is radical, and the word is evidently allied to the Arabic דרא, to repel. There is nothing in the Hebrew זר akin to nausea, and the peculiar offensiveness in Numb. 11:10, arose from satiety, excessive familiarity, which is an idea the very opposite to that of strangeness. Carrying out the idea which is supposed to be intended in the first clause, many commentators give to חנות, in the second, a sense derived from another Arabic root channa (instead of hanna) with the sense of fœtor. The arguments against it are, 1, that חנן, in the usual sense, is a very common Hebrew word. The Hithpahel conjugation is in verse 16, immediately preceding and the Kal is repeated twice in ver. 21, in almost immediate connection: חנני ,חנני, pity me, oh pity me, ye my friends. The Arabic channa differs in the diacritical point, but to the reader’s eye the word used is the same root in all these places of the same chapter, to say nothing of its very frequent occurrence in all other parts of the Hebrew Scriptures. This certainly makes it seem very improbable that the writer should have gone so far out of his way to get a very foreign and almost opposite meaning in this passage. What makes it stranger still, is that the Hebrew is well supplied with words to express this idea of fœtor. There is the very common באש with its derivatives, besides חזניח ,זנח, which occurs more than twenty times, and another form צחן, Joel 2:20. 2. The primary meaning of channa, as given by the Lexicographers, and especially by Lane, the most exact of them all (and who differs from them in his copious citation of illustrating passages) is “the emission of the breath, with a sound, through the nostrils.” This shows that it Is an onomatopic, khanna, a nasal sound, or utterance. If used to denote a disease, it would be something like the catarrh, or a cold in the head. 3. In getting this sense of fœtor; they take the remote Xth conjugation of channa (as given by Golius and Freytag, without any references): fœtorem emisit puteus—a sense which Lane relegates to the most unusual ones, and which is most probably dialectical, or coming from some incidental association of sound, or otherwise. It is certainly very rare, not to be found In the Ancient Arabic, or in the later classical. It is not in the Koran, or in Hariri, or in Ahmed’s life of Timur, or in the copious Koranic commentary of Alzamakhshari. Besides this, it seems most likely to be derived from sachana, meaning to be warm (especially water). The VIIIth conj. of this root (istachana) would differ only by the doubling of the final consonant from the Xth of the other; and in the Arabic it sometimes happens that the derivative senses thus get mixed together, as istachana and istachanna. There is the same argument against bringing it from the Syriac חנינא, rancidus. It is found only in Castell without any citations. It may be a late derivative from the Arabic, but more likely a merely accidental accommodation from the old sense of חנן; hence in Syriac, חנינא, a name for a kind of oil (from the idea of smoothness) afterwards used for rancid oil. Any authority that this might seem to possess is invalidated by the fact that the Peschito Syriac translators would have found this word hanino (had it been old Syriac) the very one to be used if fœtor were the real meaning intended. Instead of this, they have used the old Hebrew and Syriac חנן, and given precisely the rendering of our E. V. (אתחננת), “I entreated, supplicated for the children of my bowels.” A strong argument against this later rendering of fœtor, offensiveness, is that, in consequence of demanding for ל the sense of to, instead of for, or on account of, it makes it impossible that בני בטני (2d clause) should mean the children of Job, for they were all dead. Attempts have been made to refer it to children of slaves, etc., but this is too farfetched to deserve notice. Umbreit and Delitzsch regard בטני as referring to his mother’s womb, called my womb (as in 3:10 דלתי בטני “doors of my womb”). Conant states the argument very well and concisely for this; but it does not satisfy. Job is not speaking of himself here, and so the argument from 3:10, does not apply. In Micah 6:7, פרי בפני certainly means children, and to get away from it by saying that in that case there is meant the womb of his wife is taking away all definiteness from the phrase, and making it mean anything an exigentia loci might demand. So with the phrase פרי בטגך Deut. 7:13, which Delitzsch cites בטן means the womb only in a secondary application. Its primary sense is belly, body (Arabic בטן and בדן, used in the same way), the interior part; hence used, as in Job 15:2, 35; Prov. 22:18; 18:8; 20:27; 30:26; Hab. 3:16, for the interior spirituality; see Note Job 15:2. In this primary sense of body it is applicable to the male as well as to the female. And so it is rendered in E. V. children of my body. It is like בני מעי “children of my bowels,” בני חלצי “children of my loins.” The reference to his children, after the mention of his wife, is most natural; and it should be borne in mind that only four verses above, the brothers of Job, whether uterine, or collateral kinsmen more remote, are mentioned by their own appropriate name (אַחַי) estranged from him, and far removed. They, had abandoned him, and could not have been affected by any such offensiveness. The friends alone seem to have remained in close contact with him, and therein, with all their harshness, they were better than his wife and Ms brethren. Besides, that there should be no mention of children, would, indeed, be very strange. The difficulty clears up when we abide by the old rendering, whilst the mention of his dead children, and his yearning for them, in connection with his wife’s aversion, becomes a most touching instead of such an offensive picture, as the other rendering would make it. [269]Ver. 18. When I attempt to rise. אקומה: paragogic ה—subjective or optative sense—when I would rise, indicating a feeble attempt, as he sits upon the ground, or among the ashes, 2:8. The boys mock his emaciated form and tottering motions. [270]Ver. 19. Men of my counsel , מתי סודי. See Psalm 55:15, “With whom I took sweet counsel.” [271]Ver. 19. Are turned against the sight The rendering is not too full for the Heb. נהפכו—are turned right round, or right away. It implies a revolting sight, brought out in all its ghastly features in the next verse. [272] Ver. 20. All shrunk away. This verse has given rise to much and varied comment. The things first to be determined are the meaning of the phrase עור שני (skin of my teeth) and the meaning and construction of the verb אתמלטה. The idea of Delitzsch that the first means the periosteum, a fibrous membrane surrounding the bone, is farfetched, and could not have been thought of by Job. No meaning can be given to the phrase unless it be the lips or gums surrendering the teeth,—the covering of the teeth. There is no reason here to go beyond the primary sense of the verb פלט. Both in the Hebrew and in the Arabic, as well as in the cognate פלט is that of smoothness (levis, glaber fuit, Ges.) bareness, slipperiness. Hence elapsus est, evasit, he slipped away, he escaped. There is the same primary idea in the English escape. As an escape, from danger, however, or difficulty, it is a secondary sense, and found only in the Niphal (the Piel and Hiphil being causative of it). The Hithpahel occurs nowhere else except in this passage, and its reflex form and sense, as will appear, favor the idea above given. The next thing is to examine the Ancient Versions. The Peschito Syriac gives the sense of E. V. The Vulgate, or Hieronymus, renders it derelicta sunt tantummodo labia circa dentes meos, only the lips are left about my teeth—left as something abandoned or deserted. The LXX. ὀστᾶ μου ἐν ὀδοῦσιν ἔχεται, which has little or no sense. In the Hexaplar Syriac Version of the LXX. we find in the margin the rendering of the other early Greek versions. Aquila gives it as in E. V. and the Peschito. Symmachus: “I am hung,” or, I adhere to the skin of my teeth. Theodotion: “I am abandoned of (forsaken by) the skin of my teeth. Tremellius has the same rendering as E. V. Luther: und kann meine Zähne mit der Haut nicht bedecken. This, with the version of the Vulgate and Theodotion, is the general idea above given, though differently expressed: the teeth exposed and protruding. Stickel and Hahn (as cited and contested by Delitzsch) arrive at a similar idea, but in a wrong way, by making עור the infinitive of ערר with the sense of nakedness. The difficulty appears to be in the first person of the verb. The sense given would seem to demand the third person with עור for the subject; the skin of my teeth has slipped off—or, slipped off from my teeth. It will be seen, however, that the other is the more touching mode of expressing it, and that this arises from the personal reflex sense of the Hithpahel, whilst it also accounts for that form being used. “I am smooth, I am parted, I am bare, denuded, or slipped off, as to (or in) the skin (or covering) of my teeth,” seems indeed a very awkward kind of language, and yet it corresponds to the literal English of a very common Greek idiom, found more or less, too, in other languages, and having a natural philosophicalas well as philological basis. It is the ascribing to the whole personality a particular act, state, or affection, which affects primarily only a part of the body. The verbs which take such a construction are most commonly middle or deponent corresponding to the Hebrew Hithpahel, or they are intransitive though active in form. Thus, instead of saying my tooth aches, they would say, I ache as to my tooth, I am shorn, my head, or as to my head—the preposition κατὰ being generally implied, though sometimes expressed, as בּ is expressed here in בעור, yet still preserving the same Idiom. In regard to verbs denoting pain, it seems more phisophical than our method; since a pain in any part is a pain to the whole. But the Greeks carry it mnch further, as expressive of states and actions. Thus they would say, without difficulty, ἀποτέμνομαι τὴν χεῖρα, or as one says, in the Clouds of Aristophanes 24, ἐξεκόπην τὸν ὀφθαλμὸν. I was knocked out, my eye, or as to my eye, instead of saying my eye was knocked out. See also Aristoph. Aves. 334. The preposition in בעור does not affect the idiom. With or without it, it is equally the case or condition, according to the technical name which the native Arabian Grammarians have invented for one of the aspects of this idiom, which is as frequent in the Arabic as in the Greek. The other rendering: “I am escaped with the skin of my teeth,” seems to have but httle meaning, though so strongly defended. From our English it has acquired a sort of proverbial sense—the barest escape from danger; but this is inapplicable to Job. The Arabic formula so commonly cited in its defense: “he escaped with his head,” differs in the most important item. Head is, in many languages, used for life; and thus it becomes an expression of exultation, or at least of self-congratulation. But this would be most inconsistent in the case of Job. He does not speak like one who has escaped (got through his trouble), even with difficulty. And then that piteons cry which immediately follows: haniéni, hanéni, oh my friends, for it is Eloah’s hand that toucheth me, could only have come from a sense of his forlorn, hopeless condition—his projecting bones, his shrunken skin, his protruding teeth, denuded of their once comely covering—all presenting a woful spectacle of misery and wild despair. There is another view cited by Umbreit from Michaelis’ Supplem., p. 1512, in which a meaning for the Hebrew verb is sought from a secondary sense of the Arabic coming from the common primary idea of smoothness or bareness. It is pilis caruit, or nudavit pilis in Conj. II., smoothing off the beard, like Hebrew מרט. Hence by the skin of the teeth, he would understand the covering beard, which has all come out in consequence of the disease. But this is an interpretation on which there is no need of dwelling. [273]Ver. 21. That toucheth me, נגעה בי. The apparent lightness of the act enhances, by its mighty effect, the greatness of the power: “He looketh at the earth, and it trembles; He toucheth the mountains, and they smoke (the Volcanoes).” Comp. Ps. 144:5. [274]Ver. 23. Satiated. The idea intended is that of remorseless slander compared to a devouring of the flesh. In the Syriac it becomes a fixed idiomatic expression for this idea. Hence a Syriac word, אכלקרצא, meaning the Devourer of pieces, becomes a name for Satan, or Διάβολος, the Accuser. [275]Ver. 25. [276]Ver. 25. [277]Ver. 25. [278]Ver. 26. For remarks on the words thus noted see Addenda Excursus, No. 1, p. The three verses 25, 26 and 27 are printed in capitals to correspond to the idea of the monumental inscription (see Excursus I., p.) evidently designed in verses 23 and 24. The conjunction ו, with which it commences, as it stands in the book, does not interfere with this. In the monumental inscription read as standing by itself cut in the rock, the ו may be regarded as dispensed with, just as we leave out the Greek ὅτι which stands redundantly before a quotation in the New Testament. [279]Vers. 26 and 27. Shall see, etc. Most worthy of note here as showing the earnestness and assurance of the speaker is the three-fold repetition of the verb to see, expressing three different aspects of the idea: 1. I shall see Eloah; 2. Shall see him mine; 3. Mine eyes shall see him. In the first two cases it is חזה, which is used more for spiritual vision, like ὄπτομαι in Greek. In the third it is ראו, connected with the organ as though denoting an actual visual beholding—mine eyes shall see him—the time of ראו depending on the picture preceding. Though we have two principal verbs of sight, the translator has used but one (see instead of behold), in order to present more strikingly this most significant repetition. Watts: “with strong immortal eyes.” [280]Ver. 27. Stranger now no more. Delitzsch refers זָר to Job: I shall see Him not as a stranger sees Him, or “I shall see him, and not another,” as E. V. has it. So Conant; also the LXX. and Vulgate: et non alius. But on the other hand, Gesenius, Umbreit (doch nicht als Gegner), Vaihinger, Stickel, Hahn and Von Hoffmann refer it to God. Delitzsch has no right to say that זר does not mean adversary. When applied to the relation between man and God, it does mean that most emphatically. There are two strong reasons for this interpretation which the translator has adopted; 1. The declaration: “Mine eyes shall see him,” so strongly made, would render this interpretation of Delitzsch a tautology—a saying the same thing (myself and not another), only in a more feeble way. 2. The other rendering brings into emphatic prominence the idea for which Job’s soul was panting—not so much the sight of God by any objective beholding, as the idea of reconciliation with him—love and peace after estrangement. See this more fully dwelt upon in the excursus above referred to. [281]Ver. 27. (For is). In respect to Job’s rapturous emotion here see Adanda Excursus I., p. [282]Ver. 28. Shall say. The supposing a pause of silence, however brief, before ver. 28 greatly facilitates the interpretation of what follows, and which by being brought abruptly in, has given rise to much unnecessary difficulty. The high feeling of the rapturous anticipation has somewhat gone down; but it has made a change in Job, and gives him strength to use a language to the friends different from what he had before employed. There is no recrimination, but he ventures to assume to them something of a warning, and even a prophetic style. It is, however, a general prediction, and there is nothing to show that he had in view the scenes narrated in the close of the book, as some have thought in order to lower the character of his ecstatic vision to a mere guess at returning prosperity. For ye shall say. There is no need of departing from the simple future sense of תאמרו. The time will come when ye will take a different view of the case. The כי is slightly illative, being used, as it repeatedly is, in the Book of Job, to denote a kind of reply to something that has been silently passing through the mind. It is like the commencement of Chap. 28. Thus regarded, the two verbs following (נרדף and נמצא) may both be treated as in the same conjugation and tense, future in form, but to be rendered as present, or aorist, depending on תאמרו; in which view there is no need of regarding ו in the second clause as anything more than simply connective. There is no inferential sense in it to be rendered since or seeing that; all of which arises from a wrong view of the connections of the passage. [283]Seek to find. In kal מצא denotes not simply a finding, casually, but a finding what is sought. Here it may be taken as the 1st Pers. Plu. Fut. Kal, instead of the Niphal participle, which the other view seems to necessitate. The change of person, although it makes strange sounding English, the, translator has preserved because it is so expressive in Hebrew, this sudden turn to himself as the object of their persecution. Comp. the precisely similar case, 14:3, which Merx has marred by his useless emendation of the text. [284]Ver. 28. Root of blame. When this phrase, דבר שרש, is rendered root of the matter, it seems to have little or no meaning, besides necessitating a different and forced construction of the whole passage. It is in E. V., and maintained by Delitzsch, Conant, and other very able commentators; but an examination of the use of דבר in such passages as Exod. 18:16–22; 22:8 (עַל כָּל דְּבַר פֶּשַׁע), 24:14, and other places, can leave little doubt of the meaning as above given—a ground of accusation or blame. It may have been שרש, root of accusation, as denoting charges inferred without evidence, like those in chap. 22,—dug up—hunted for—having no proof upon the surface. Rosenmueller: materiam litis. [285]Ver. 29. Beware—Beware. The repetition in the translation is justified by the great emphasis expressed in לכם and מפני: “Take care of yourselves before the sword.” The strengthening that Job had received rouses him to give them this warning, though not at all in their style of crimination, [286]Ver. 29. (That call) the sword. Comp. Romans 13:4. Literally, sins of the sword. [287]Ver. 29. That judgment is—surely is—really is—or what it really is—said, perhaps, in opposition to their superficial views about the judgments or dealings of the divine providence: That ye may have an idea of the greater and higher judgment. We have here שׁ for אֲשֶׁר—the only place in Job where it occurs, though so common in Ecclesiastes and the later Hebrew. [288]Ver. 2. To this. לכן. There is no need to follow Umbreit and others in their far-fetched explanations of this particle, ל–כז. Literally to so—for so—for this—there-for or therefore. So על כן, wherefore. It denotes here an immediate reply. Fired by Job’s saying to them to beware of the sword of justice, Zophar answers indignantly and impetuously. He could be very calm when, free from pain, he discourses so loftily and truly about God’s wisdom and “truth’s twofold form” (chap. 11:6). With all theoretical coolness could he exhort Job to repentance. But now when the sufferer, strengthened by his glorious hope (19. 25–28), turns upon them, as it were, and warns them that they too have need of repentance, Zophar goes off in great haste, as the next clause shows. This heat is continued through the chapter, producing that picture of the wicked man and his doom, most just in itself, and most graphically as well as eloquently presented, but very intemperate and unjust as applied to Job. [289]Ver. 2. Compel me to respond. ישיב alone might mean simply to answer, but the suffix and the context seem to demand the causal sense. It might, however, be rendered furnish my answer—give me an answer. [290]Ver. 2. My haste. There is no need of going away from the pure Hebrew sense of חוש, haste. It is just what the context shows to be wanted, and the word in brackets is simply the expression of what is implied in the emphatic repetition, חושי בי, of the first person: my haste in me. [291]Ver. 3. Zeal. רוח is here used for anger, temper, zeal or warmth (ira), as it is Judg. 8:3; Prov.16:32; Isaiah 25:4; 30:28; Zech. 6:8. He justifies this outburst of spirit by the following word, מבינתי, from my understanding. It is not irrational anger, he would say, but justified by Job’s provocation. [292]Ver. 4. Ha! The Hebrew ה in הואת is exclamatory as well as interrogative. It is often so. Here it strikingly shows how impetuously Zophar dashes on after his hasty exordium. The force of it is carried all through the high-wrought picture that follows. He begins as though he would overwhelm the unrepentant and presumptuous Job. [293]Ver. 5. The triumph—the joy. These expressions would seem to refer to Job’s exultant hope, 19:26, 27, and his warning, ver. 29. [294]Ver. 7. As is his splendor. Ew.: nach seiner Grosse. The weight of authority is in favor of this rendering, as derived from the Arabic, גלאל, glory, splendor. The Chaldaic גלל has the same meaning. It avoids the seemingly indecorous comparison of the E. V. rendering, and has, moreover, in its favor the fact that the Arabic word, thus used, is very common. It may be said, too, that the contrast thus given more strongly expresses the main idea, which is his great downfall. The suffix, too, as Conant well remarks, is better adapted to this rendering. [295]Ver. 7. Hopeless ruin. Literally, so he perishes utterly. לנצח does not mean forever in the time sense, but only implies it in its real idea of completeness, finality. The verb אבד suggests strongly that awful word Abaddon (אבדן), the state of the lost. [296] Ver. 8. As a dream—As a night spectre. The rendering is demanded in order to give the true distinction of the words חלום and חזיון. The first is simply an ordinary dreaming, especially in a light sleep, which seems to fly away on opening the eyes (volucrique simillima somno), and we cannot recall it. We only know that we have been dreaming. So the wicked man, after his brief hallucination, cannot be found. Literally: They cannot find him. The other clause of the parallelism is much stronger. חזיון denotes a vision as something different from such a mere dreaming. Again, it denotes the object of the vision, as well as the vision itself; like the Greek ὄψις (from ὄπτομαι, corresponding best to Heb. חזה), which means the sight (spectaculum), as well as the seeing. This is generally something mysterious and sublime, as in Job 4:13, or something frightful, as in Job 7:14: “Thou scarest me with visions”—phantasms, spectres, frightful sights. The vision of Eliphaz (4:13–17), whatever degree of objective reality we may ascribe to it, is certainly evidence of a belief in a spectral world, from which came forth things to warn or to terrify men. The rendering spectre is strongly favored by the word following. The verb יֻדַּד is literally driven, chased away, as E. V. and Conant render it, but scared away is most fitting to the context; and so the German commentators, such as Umbreit, Ewald, Zöckler, etc., mainly render it (verscheucht, fortgescheucht) weggescheucht. Everything about the passage shows that it was an ancient as well as a modern superstition, if we may call it so, that apparitions from this spectral world departed very suddenly as though frightened, either by the crowing of the cock, or the appearance of morning, or something stern and bold in the human attitude towards such seeming intruders. This is remarkably exemplified by the story Plutarch gives us, in his life of Brutus (sect. 36), of the apparition (the nachtgesicht) that presented itself to him when reading in his tent at midnight before the battle of Philippi, “Whilst in deep study, he seemed to feel the presence of something entering. Turning his eye, he sees a strange and fearful form of something ἐκφύλου (belonging to no known species), standing in silence by him. Who art thou, man or god? The phantasm replies, in a hollow tone, I am thy evil genius, Brutus; thou shalt see me at Philippi. I will see thee there, said he.” This bold answer of Brutus, as though making an appointment, and the fright of the spectre, is most admirably paraphrased by Cowley: I’ll see thee there, saidst thou, With such a voice and such a brow, As put the startled ghost to sudden flight;— It was as though It heard the morning crow, Or saw its well-appointed star Come marching up the eastern hill afar. So flies the wicked man, scared away, driven away, by the divine judgments, or when the light of truth is let into his soul. The rendering, chased away, also reminds us of Prov. 14:32: “The wicked man is driven away in his wickedness.” This kind of language has a number of examples in Job, and it may be taken as proof that the phraseology in the Proverbs is derived from it. [297] Ver. 8. As a dream—As a night spectre. The rendering is demanded in order to give the true distinction of the words חלום and חזיון. The first is simply an ordinary dreaming, especially in a light sleep, which seems to fly away on opening the eyes (volucrique simillima somno), and we cannot recall it. We only know that we have been dreaming. So the wicked man, after his brief hallucination, cannot be found. Literally: They cannot find him. The other clause of the parallelism is much stronger. חזיון denotes a vision as something different from such a mere dreaming. Again, it denotes the object of the vision, as well as the vision itself; like the Greek ὄψις (from ὄπτομαι, corresponding best to Heb. חזה), which means the sight (spectaculum), as well as the seeing. This is generally something mysterious and sublime, as in Job 4:13, or something frightful, as in Job 7:14: “Thou scarest me with visions”—phantasms, spectres, frightful sights. The vision of Eliphaz (4:13–17), whatever degree of objective reality we may ascribe to it, is certainly evidence of a belief in a spectral world, from which came forth things to warn or to terrify men. The rendering spectre is strongly favored by the word following. The verb יֻדַּד is literally driven, chased away, as E. V. and Conant render it, but scared away is most fitting to the context; and so the German commentators, such as Umbreit, Ewald, Zöukler, etc., mainly render it (verscheucht, fortgescheucht) weggescheuckt. Everything about the passage shows that it was an ancient as well as a modern superstition, if we may call it so, that apparitions from this spectral world departed very suddenly as though frightened, either by the crowing of the cock, or the appearance of morning, or something stern and bold in the human attitude towards such seeming intruders. This is remarkably exemplified by the story Plutarch gives us, in his life of Brutus (sect. 36), of the apparition (the nachtgesicht) that presented itself to him when reading in his tent at midnight before the battle of Philippi, “Whilst in deep study, he seemed to feel the presence of something entering. Turning his eye, he sees a strange and fearful form of something ἐκφύλου (belonging to no known species), standing in silence by him. Who art thou, man or god? The phantasm replies, in a hollow tone, I am thy evil genius, Brutus; thou shalt see me at Philippi. I will see thee there, said he.” This bold answer of Brutus, as though making an appointment, and the fright of the spectre, is most admirably paraphrased by Cowley: I’ll see thee there, saidst thou, With such a voice and such a brow, As put the startled ghost to sudden flight;— It was as though It heard the morning crow, Or saw its well-appointed star Come marching up the eastern hill afar. So flies the wicked man, scared away, driven away, by the divine judgments, or when the light of truth is let into his soul. The rendering, chased away, also reminds us of Prov. 14:32: “The wicked man is driven away in his wickedness.” This kind of language has a number of examples in Job, and it may be taken as proof that the phraseology in the Proverbs is derived from it. [298]Ver. 9. Hath glanced. שזף. A word rare, but clear. Cant. 1:6: “The sun hath looted upon me”—to change my color. Job 28:7: “The keen falcon’s eye hath glanced upon it”—the miner’s unexplored path. Zöckler gives this very strikingly: ein Auge hat auf ihn geblickt, es thut’s nicht wieder. Nothing could more distinctly express the idea of transitoriness: one glance, and he is never seen again. [299]Ver. 10. Must appease. This is the rendering of E. V. (seek to please). The argument for it, besides the grammatical one, is the harmony it makes with the second clause. The other rendering, the poor shall oppress his children, demands a new form of the verb רִצֵּץ = רִצָּה. [300]Ver. 11. Sins in secret done. Literally secret things; but a comparison of Ps. 90:8 shows at once the meaning. Many render it sins of youth. There is authority for it from the use of עלום, Psalms 89:46; Job 33:25, etc., but the general sense here is best, especially as it may also include the other, and perhaps point to them. Secret sins, or sins of youth—the effects of them go with a man to his grave. They lie down; תשכב; singular feminine, but answers for a collective nominative, like a Greek singular verb with a plural neuter to which the Hebrew feminine, in such cases, corresponds. [301]Ver. 17. On the fair rivers. כְּלַגוֹת here, and Judges 5:15,16, is synonymous with כְּלָגִים, and means primarily artificial water courses, but the word is used of rivers generally, as in Ps. 65:10, פלג אלהים, the river of God. It is used to denote a beautiful, fair-flowing stream, as נהר represents a fuller and deeper one, or as the Latin amnis in distinction from flumen or fluvius. The flowing streams; literally, flowings of streams; the first noun qualifying the other—the full streams. Is anything special meant here, or is it only a glowing picture representing wealth and prosperity? The latter view seems easy, and is the one generally taken by commentators; but yet it has great difficulties. In the first place, the whole picture is not that of a poor man who never attains to any measure of luxury, but of one who has possessed, and then been deprived of it. In the second place, if Zophar has Job in view, as we must suppose from the way he brings in the picture, the language, thus understood, is wholly inapplicable. With his “seven thousand sheep and goats, and three thousand camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and very many servants,” he must be said to have seen “the brooks of honey and milk,” that is, abundance of the luxuries of life, or of the good things of this world, if ever a man did. The conjecture may be hazarded, that the fervid and imaginative Zophar has in mind some earl; Arabian mythical paradise, something unearthly, or belonging to some remote region of the world, like the Greek “Isles of the Blessed.” Thus viewed, it may have been the origin of that description we find so often in the Koran, and which must have been much older than the days of Mohammed. See Surat, ii. 23: “For them are the gardens where flow the rivers” etc., and many other places. In Surat xliv. 16, 17, the language becomes almost identical, in some respects, with that of the passage in Job: “Like the garden promised to the pious, wherein are rivers of living water (water that never loses its purity), and rivers of milk whose taste never changes, and rivers of honey purified, and fruits of every kind, and forgiveness from their Lord.” If Zophar had any such idea derived from any quarter, it may have resembled the Vedaic conception, that Merx thinks of so much importance. See Int. Theism, p 15, 16. Why may not such a myth be regarded as having crossed the Indus, if it was there at that early period, or as having arisen from the imagination of the dwellers in Zophar’s native land of Naama, נַעֲמַה (the land of delights), wherever that may have been. Such a fancied Paradise of sense would be immeasurably inferior to the scriptural idea of the ζωῆς αἰωνίου, far inferior, we might say, to Job’s vision of a reconciled God, with no other accompaniments. Wholly without God, as they are, it might be maintained, that such mythical representations, with all their “sweetness and light,” have really less moral value than the shadows of Sheol which Job so mournfully depicts, and the bare hope of hearing, at some time, God’s voice of deliverance from it (14:15). Whatever may be thought of such a conjecture, the resemblance the passage bears to the Koranic language is certainly very striking. The latter may have been derived from it. Such is the opinion of Good, a commentator from whom much may be learned, notwithstanding his work is so marred by extravagant conceits and arbitrary changes of the Hebrew text. See Excursus I. of the Addenda. [302] Ver. 18. Toil (wronged). יָגָע, like יְגִיעַ, denote primarily labor, and then the fruit of labor, whether as coming to the laborer or to his employer. There being no personal suffix, it must be taken generally as the toil, the wages of the wronged toiler, and therefore the word in brackets is simply the complement of the intended idea. The second clause has occasioned some difficulty. חֵיל is certainly construct (wealth of exchange), and therefore the rendering of E. V. cannot be sustained, or that of Umbreit, who would arbitrarily regard it as absolute. The construction, however, may be explained in two ways: 1. By regarding the second ו as connecting the clause with משיב ; the first ו making a subordinate connection reading thus: ‘Restores the fruit of toil, and does not swallow it as the wealth of his exchange, and does not enjoy it.’ This makes the two clauses so closely inter-dependent as to form one in fact—a construction which is not according to the usual style of the parallels in Job. 2. The second clause may be taken by itself, and thus rendered: It is as wealth of his exchange, and he does not enjoy. This is, indeed, very awkward English; but it gives the idea. The ו may possibly be taken as connecting by way of comparison, which is not unfrequently the case, especially in Proverbs; but a truer view is to regard it as connecting directly תמורתו and יעלס, a verb and a verbal noun. Taking both as verbs, it would be: Wealth that he exchanges and does not of enjoy; or taking both as nouns: Wealth of exchange, and not of enjoyment. “Wealth of restitution,” Schlottman well renders it. Better still would be: wealth of retribution; and so it might have been given in our Metrical Version: As wealth of retribution, not of joy; but it was thought best to keep the word exchange as not only more concise, but more distinctly preserving the figure. [303]Ver. 19. Because. The force of כי here, and as repeated in ver. 20, seems to extend to the strong apodotic expression עַל כֵּן, in the second clause of ver. 21. Such a carrying of the protasis through several parallel verses, has other examples in Job. See 15:25–29, where commentators (Ewald, Dillmann, Zöckler, et al.) continue the protasis, through four verses (weil—weil—weil—deshalb). כי is used there in the same way, and is rendered because (because—because, etc.—therefore) although the connection is less clear, and there is no apodotic particle like עַל כֵּן (see note on the passage). Here translators generally break it up, or find subordinate apodoses, at the end, or in the middle of intervening clauses, although the demand for continuance is much more clear than in the other passage, and the strong עַל כֵּן at end seems not to be satisfied with anything less. Thus the כי In ver. 19 covers its second clause. The repetition of it in the 20th has not only the same effect, but goes over into the first clause of ver. 21, making the great conclusion with עַל כֵּן all the more emphatic. The 21st verse, it is true, begins with אין, which is an asserting particle, but that does not make it independent, or to be taken alone as the protasis to the following. The leaving out the copulative particles, and the omission of כי at the beginning of ver. 21 only makes it more forcible as the language of passion and impetuosity according to the rule of Aristotle, which is must hold true in all languages, that when the sense is clear without them, conjunctions had better be dispensed with. The translator has endeavored to preserve this asyndetic style, and, at the same time, to carry into the English the conciseness of the Hebrew. [304]Ver. 19. Seized ruthlessly. The rendering plunder misleads. It conveys the idea of robbing or despoiling a house of things that are in it. The more common as well as the primary sense of גזל is here demanded, not only because it alone is applicable to a house, but because it gives the contrast wanted between the two ideas of violently taking possession, and of building for one’s-self. The future (יבנהו) expresses not only that which objectively follows in time, but also what is subjectively consecutive, that is, in the order of the thought. In Greek and Latin the future is the mother of the subjective moods. In Hebrew, which is so destitute of modal forms, it is used for them. Had built, or builded not, as E. V. renders it after the Vulgate, will not do, because it makes a pluperfect or an objectively finished past prior in the order of the thought. [305]Ver. 20. Nor lets escape. מִלֵּט may be regarded, like many other examples of Piel and Hiphil verbs, as permissive or preventive, as well as causal—let escape—make escape. Its future form is because it is consecutive in idea to the previous clause: He is so unquiet or unsatisfied that he lets not, or will not let,—the rendering in English by the future, or the present, coming to the same thing. [306]Ver. 21. His good. Some such word as prosperity for טוב might seem more emphatic; but the simpler English word includes it and more. There is intended his summum bonum, or what seems such to the bad man. Therefore his good shall not endure. It sounds like a sentence of judgment, after the arraignment in the previous items. If it is not too cruel a supposition, we may regard the angry yet eloquent Zophar as having Job in view, as though, at every item, he pointed to him as he sat in the ashes, intimating that he is the man: It must be that he had done some most wicked and oppressive acts,—crushed the poor—seized a house—gratified himself in everything; and therefore it is that his property and his happiness are all gone. [307]Ver. 22. Every hand of toil. Delitzsch: “The rich uncompassionate man becomes the defenceless prey of the proletaires.” [308]Ver. 23. Be it the time—taken as a supposition. The simplest rendering here is the surest. מְלאוֹת, above, suggests the מַלֵּא in this verse, and there must be a similarity of statement and idea. At the very time when his greed is highest, and he is about to satisfy it, then God sends, etc. This makes the 3d clause -unmistakable, though it seems to have perplexed commentators. The rain of wrath mingles with the food he is eating, just as in other places tears mingle with the bread one is eating. See Ps. 80:6; 42:4. The other rendering makes the filling of his belly in the first clause, God’s filling his belly with wrath (by way of irony for food) and then in the third clause, לחום is made the object of the verb: He rains his food upon him,—to the neglect of the preposition ב, or disposing of it in the facile way of calling it Beth essentiæ. Umbreit renders it “for his meat,” or in place of it. So Dillmann. That is a sense of ב in some cases, but the more usual moaning is better here. Delitzsch renders it: rain upon him into his flesh, giving two indirect objects to יַמְטֵר, but no direct one. He takes for לחום a sense it seems to have, Zeph. 1:17, and which he derives from the Arabic לחם; quite a different word with very different vowels. Besides this, it is not easy to give ב the sense of into after a verb of motion with the idea of attack, especially such a verb as ימטר. The rendering flash, says Dillmann, is wholly inadmissible. [309]Ver. 24. Iron lance. נֵשֶׁק, armor, generally, but here some striking or piercing weapon. Through and through: The rendering is not too strong for that most peculiar and emphatic word תחלפהו. [310]Ver. 25. He hath drawn. The translator agrees with Umbreit in regarding God as the subject of שלף. The Divine name thus left out makes it all the more fearful as well as emphatic. It might be rendered passively it is drawn—unsheathed—but there is no need of it. Suddenness is the idea the words vividly impress. It is no sooner out of its scabbard than it is through his body; or, between its being drawn from the sheath and being drawn back from his gall is but a moment. The other rendering: he (the one pierced) draws it out, or back, loses all this, besides having very serious philological difficulties. It must, in that case, refer to the arrow just above, but the verb is ever used of the sword in the numerous places of its occurrence, except in Ruth 4:7, 8, where it means slipping the foot out of the shoe or sandal, and Ps. 129:6, where it is the slipping of the flower out of its calix, or of the fruit from its glume or husk (entschloffen; see Hupfeld). When used of a weapon it is always the sword, and its drawing is from its sheath. Jude. 3:22 is only a seeming exception, as there the body is regarded as the sheath, and it is the sword still; no other weapon being carried in a sheath. The word שׁלף (S. L. P.) is onomatopic, like our word slip—not that the one is derived from the other, but that both are formed on the same principle as signifying an easy slipping motion. The rendering of Delitzsch and others, makes, moreover, a feeble tautology: “he draws it out; and it comes out.” Another reason given by Umbreit has much force: בָּרָק fulgur, brightness, is generally used of the sword when applied to a weapon; Deut. 32:41; Ezek. 21:15, 20; or sometimes of the spear, he might have said. The barb of the arrow, moreover, would prevent its being easily drawn back by the victim, and tearing, as Delitzsch renders, would be greatly out of congruity with the verb שלף. On גֵוהָ see Note (7) chap. 35:5. [311]Ver. 25. He is gone. The accents separate יהלך from אמים. The latter word cannot, therefore, be the subject, even if the number permitted. The verb stands by itself. There is an appalling suddenness and abruptness in this whole description, which is best given in measures somewhat irregular. For examples of יהלך taken in a similar way, see 14:20; 19:10; 27:20. The rendering which regards the word as separated, is sustained by Rosenmueller, Schultens, Hirzel, et al. The old versions are the other way. The usage, however, of הלך in the places mentioned, to say nothing of the accents, is decidedly against the translation of the Vulgate, etc. [312]Ver. 26. Hid treasures טמון–צפּניו. The two words have both of them the idea of hiding, and there seems to be something of a sententious play upon them. [313]Ver. 26. Self-enkindled; not blown upon. [314]Ver. 26. Still feeding. Ewald, Zöck., Rosenm., Umbreit, make ירע from רעע: Uebel geht es dem. The other sense is according to the accents and the metaphor of fire feeding (ignis depascens) which is in so many languages. [315]Ver. 28. To other lands departs: יִגֶל—goes into exile. [316]Ver. 29. The Mighty One. This is Conant’s judicious rendering of toe divine name אֵל to avoid a tautology. [317]Ver. 2. O listen. The doubling of the verb here denotes not so much a desire for attentive hearing, as to be heard at all. It might be expressed by an emphatic auxiliary do: Do listen, etc. [318]Ver. 5. Turn now. פְּנוּ has the sense of turning and looking in the face. On leaving out the mere copulative in such cases, see Note 13:23. [319]Ver. 7. Live at all. There is an emphasis on חי. The astonishment is at God’s suffering them to remain on earth, or even to be born. He goes to the root of the great problem of evil. This was the thought that so dismayed him whenever he called it to mind. [320]Ver. 7. Giant-like. Something of this kind demanded by the strong word גבר: Heroes. See Gen. 6:4. [321]Ver. 8. Their seed. Instead of description intended to be universal and dogmatic, it is clear that Job is simply touched by the contrast between his own state, bereaved of children, stripped of property, suffering acutest pain, with the condition of many a bad man in directly opposite circumstances. The points he makes show this, and it may be in perfect harmony with what follows in ver. 17, where his thoughts tend to take the other and the larger view. See Addenda, p. [322]Ver. 10. The Issue of their herds. In this clear passage, euphemistic language may be allowed. [323]Ver. 10. Sons and daughters. ילדיהם is in contrast with עוילים rendered little ones. It may be taken for the grown-up children of both sexes. [324]Ver. 13. In Joy unbroken. Heb. בטוב, in good. But this is to be taken here for what the wicked man esteems the good, his summum bonum,—pleasure or enjoyment uninterrupted and without stint. [325]Ver. 13. In a moment. A quick death is spoken of as the good fortune of the wicked. “There are no bands in their death” Ps. 73:4. רֵגַע an instant of time; רָגֵעַ quiet; there would seem to be here intended something of both ideas. שאול here is rendered the grave. It has a further sense, the spirit world, or the under-world. It is, however, best rendered here according to the bad man’s conception. [326]Ver. 16. But lo. For a discussion in respect to the remarkable transition here, and in the verse following. See Excursus, Addenda, pa. 175 [327]Ver. 17. (Yet truth ye say). For the propriety of the words in brackets, and of the interpretation generally, see Addenda, pa. 175 [328]Ver. 17. Deadly pangs. חבלים, tortures, primary sense, to bind. [329]Ver. 19. Eloah treasures. There is no warrant for taking this as a question; still less as an ironical taunt on the part of Job, as though making it the language of the friends and then deriding it. Equally defenceless is it, the making יְשַׁלֵּם imprecatory here, and thus to differ from all the other futures before and after it. See Excurs. II. on this chapter; Addenda, p. 182 . The retribution on his sons is, in fact, retribution on himself, and, in some way, he shall know it to be so. It may be, too, that אונו may have, in this verse, its other clear and frequent sense of strength and wealth. [330]Ver. 21. For what his pleasure. What concern, others render it. A turn may be given to this which may make it seem to favor the other or imprecatory rendering of the previous verse (“for what cares he for his house after him”); but the other changes which this is made to suit are so forced as to invalidate the opposite reasoning, however plausible, in respect to this verse. A connection of thought between vers. 20 and 21 is easily seen without it. A sudden destruction is predicted, ver. 20, when his wealth goes to others, and what pleasure will he have of it? This suddenness is intimated in חצֵּץ which means sharp cutting, cutting off in the very midst of his enjoyments,—not a calm old age. and easy death closing all cares, which is demanded by the other view. The thought of judicial severity is inseparable from חִצֵּץ thus used. [331]Ver. 22. Ah, how is this? A pause here, with an intervening thought, leading to what follows, may be rationally supposed. See Addenda, pa. 176. The words in brackets denote the transition. It is a very impassioned speech. Job’s mind is revolving like that of Koheleth, when he so often says “I turned”—“I turned again to see”—I took another and another view of things, etc. The chief difference is that Koheleth is in a more calm and contemplative state, and gives outward notice of these mental changes, whilst Job silently broods over them, and then bursts forth. His state of soul, instead of being a meditative rest, is tumultuous, volcanic we might almost style it, as it sometimes shows itself. To expect of him closely connected and logical sequences, is itself most illogical. The statements in previous verses, apparently varying, but, in fact, only two parts of one picture viewed from different stand-points, naturally bring up the thought of the great diversity in the lives and deaths of men,—a fact inexplicable on any human theory. This again calls up the thought of some higher wisdom of God yet unknown to men. It is fully set forth in ch. 28, but Job is only approaching it here. It produces the silence of a moment, when he resumes: shall one teach God? and then goes on with the picture of diversity in human condition that had led to it. [332]Ver. 22. Teach God—see note below on ver. 30, and the pages in the Addenda there referred to. [333]Ver. 23. All quiet. Heb. שַׁלְאֲנָן. Gesenius regards this strange form as a compound of שלה and שאנן. Ben Ganach, in his Hebrew Grammar entitled Sepher Ha Rikma, page 18, maintains that it is only שאנן with an euphonic ל giving it a more intensive sense. [334]Ver. 24. His breasts עֲטִין occurs but once. Some give it the sense of station for watering flocks (as derived from the Arabic) and then transferred to the flocks themselves. The parallelism, however, demands a word denoting some part of the body to correspond to bones in the second clause. There seems to be nothing better, after all, than the rendering breasts which E. V. got from the Targum, and which, as an expression of health, may be applicable to either sex. [335]Ver. 27. Thoughts to my hurt. מחשבות means thoughts generally, מְזִמּוֹת, especially with עלי, means evil thoughts. From the rendering of E. V., and that of most of the commentators, there would be derived the idea of plots or machinations (stratagems Delitzsch renders it) or of something to be done to, or against, Job. But the words do not really demand this. מזמות may refer simply to the false and unfavorable views they have indulged of Job’s case and character. [336]Ver. 27. Wrongfully. חמם has generally the associated thought of violence, but the essential idea is that of injustice. It seems to combine the two senses very much as the Greek ὕβρις—ὑβρίζω. [337]Ver. 28. Say ye. Equivalent to think ye, as φημὶ in Greek sometimes. [338]Ver. 29. Their signs; like mottoes borne on their standards—enigmatical devices,—or, taken generally, any modes by which their sententious or traditional language is made known. [339]Ver. 30. To the day of doom the wicked man is kept. On the general interpretation of this verse, see Excursus III. of the Addenda, pa. 182. [340]Ver. 30. Mighty Wrath. Literally to the day of wraths, dies irarum. The word עֲבָרוֹת is the intensive plural. [341]Ver. 30. Declares his way. Who dares tell him of the fearful איד to which his way leads, or of the day of wrath to which he is to be brought forth. Nothing could be more appropriate to the view taken of ver. 30 in E. V., and insisted on in Excursus III. If ver. 30 refers to some great eschatological doom, however dimly conceived as belonging to some unknown period, then the word here, as placed in brackets, is implied in the emphasis of the passage. [342]Ver. 32. One keepeth watch. Various views are taken of this; but no one seems more simple and natural than the idea of a friend or relative keeping watch by the grave, whether as guardian or as mourner. The wicked man, too, has those who loved him in spite of his wickedness. The picture is a very touching one. [343] Ver. 33. Lightly press. The Hebrew מתקו literally means are sweet, but may be applied to anything agreeable, or represented as such, whether in fancy or reality. Compare 24:20: The worm feeds sweetly on him, or, his sweetness is the worm. The idea, in either case, is that of insensibility to suffering, but strangely conceived of as having something of enjoyment. We do not wholly divest ourselves of such feelings when we talk of the grave as a place of rest. The clods of the valley resting upon him give no pain, and are, therefore, conceived of as pleasant. The expression here suggests the classical, levis sit terra. See Euripides Alcestis, 470: ————Κούφα σοι Χθὼν ἐπάω πεσειε—γύναι Light fall the earth upon thee—lady. [344]Ver. 33. Lengthened train. An idea clearly contained in the Hebrew ימשוך. See Jude. 4:6, 7, where it denotes the drawing out of the military line; Ps. 28:3: “Draw me not out (or let me not draw out) with the wicked.” [345] Ver. 33. Have gone before. Life a procession; one part coming, another passing, another gone. It reminds us of the monumental lines from the Greek Anthology: ————τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδόν ἡ̓ν πάντας ἐλθεῖν ἔστ’ ἀναγκαίως ἔχον, προεληλύθασιν—— On the road that all must travel have they gone, A little way before. All alike; even God’s Elect present the same appearance of an ever-passing and disappearing procession: Part of the host have crossed the flood, And part are crossing now. The picture presented by Job is as touching as it is true and universal. The great distinguishing day of doom kept out of sight, the same sad destiny seems to await all mankind. All are marching to the tomb, and seem to lie down in it as their common place of rest. On this verse Umbreit makes some of his characteristic remarks: Ein bitterer Ausspruch! He calls it: “a bitter or rancorous judgment. Is the wicked man extirpated from the earth by death, so follow him others without number,” etc. (pa. 171). He would represent Job, in saying this, as governed by a spirit of morose misanthropy. On the contrary, the language of this and the preceding verse may be cited as evidence of what the translator has elsewhere insisted on (see Addenda, pa. 175), namely, the striking difference between the speeches of Job and those of the others. Impassioned, as his language is, in view of his own severe sufferings, there is, after all, the manifestation of a softer feeling when his revolving thoughts lead him to consider the common lot of humanity. In his second picture of the wicked man’s wretchedness, or his afterthought, as we may call it, he alludes to their doom in some great judgment, all unknown and undetermined though it be; and that seems immediately to call up a tenderer language which looks very much like commiseration for the wicked man himself. He, too, lies down in the dust, like all other men. He, too, has some one who loves him, and who will watch mournfully by his grave. On him, too, will “lightly press the clods of the valley,” as upon the most lovely and innocent among “the dwellers in dust.” How different are these tender images from the fierce speech of Zophar, especially as it appears in the terrible pictures with which he concludes, 20:23–27: “The gleaming weapon piercing through his gall,” and his very food mingled with “the Almighty’s rain of burning wrath.” That is the language of one who seems to love such picturing, and actually to exult in the sinner’s doom. He assumes towards Job the attribute of moral superiority; and, good man as he is, he cannot conceal the self-righteous feeling with which he so formally passes sentence at the close: This is the bad man’s portion sent from God— His lot appointed from the Mighty One. There is more severity in Job’s picture, 27:13–23; but here there certainly seems to be an effusion of tenderness not to be found in the speeches of the others. They are cool, philosophical moralists, except when roused to indignation by Job’s refusal to confess. He is the true hero, the mighty wrestler with sin and suffering. His moral sense goes deeper than theirs. He is more conscious of his own sin, of the common depravity, and, therefore, the more likely to lose sight of outward moral differences in the contemplation of the universal suffering. Job comes nearer than they to the spirit of Christ and to the spirit of His language when He says: “Think ye that they were sinners above all the Galileans? I tell you nay; but unless ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.” [346]Ver. 34. Empty breath. E. V. in vain. There is but the Hebrew word הָבֶל, or הֶבֶל, vapor, lenis aura, ἀτμός—so often used by Koheleth, though with a slightly differing form, הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים, “vanity of vanities.” Here it denotes worthlessness; but the primary sense of words should be preserved in a translation, if possible, and especially if they are very significant. [347]Ver. 34. Offence. מַעַל; perverse action or thought against any one. Hence wrongful treatment consisting in continually taking a false view of Job’s case, rather than actual falsehood in speech, or in abstract opinion. [348]Ver. 2. The Strong man. גֶּבֶר as used in Job is generally emphatic—the strong, powerful, or rich man as distinguished from the common man, or man in general. Here Eliphaz would apply it peculiarly to Job as one who may have thought he was doing God service when he was serving himself, as Satan also charged, 1:9. [349]Ver. 2. That thereby. Some take this parenthetically; as Delitzsch: “No indeed! the intelligent man is profitable to himself.” So Renan: Non; c’est a lui seul que le sage est utile. It is not easy to see what warrant there is for it grammatically, or what demand of the sense makes it necessary. The picture suggested is that of a man who thinks he is serving God, profiting God, when his aim is thereby to profit himself, and who makes a great outcry when stripped, us he fancies, of these his gains. The connection and dependence of the כי gives the easy and appropriate sense in harmony with all that Eliphaz says afterwards. מַשְׂכִּיל, the prudent man. There seems to be just a touch of irony here: Prudent man as he is in such a calculation of the accruing advantages of outward piety. It may be well rendered adverbially: wisely serve himself. [350]Ver. 4. For thy religion’s sake. E. V. for fear of thee. So Umbreit, “aus Furcht vor dir;” Rosenmueller, et al,, out of respect, reverence, aus Ehrfurcht, which Umbreit condemns. Delitzsch rightly takes יִרְאָה here subjectively—thy fear of God—thy professed religion, as in 4:6; 15:4. [351]Ver. 5. May it not be? See Excursus IV., Addenda, pa. 185. [352]Ver. 6. May it not be? See Exc. IV., pa. 185. [353]Ver. 8. (Hast said). On these words in brackets, and their propriety as an essential part of a clear translation, see Exc. IV. p. 185; also remarks of Rabbi Tanchum there cited, on a similar case, Lam. 3:36. [354]Ver. 10. Wherefore, it may be. See Excursus IV., Addenda, p. 185. The passage treated as conjectural, or hypothetical, from ver. 5 to ver. 10. [355]Ver. 10. Canst not see. This refers probably to Job’s supposed mental state, as one incapable, according to Eliphaz, of discovering his true moral condition. [356]Ver. 11. Thy soul; The translation full here, but in the very spirit of the Hebrew which uses נפשך, thy soul, for the personal pronoun. [357]Ver. 12. Lo! הלא, here has evidently the force of an interjection calling attention, and is equivalent to הנה. It is one of the clearest of the many cases specified by Noldius where it has the sense of ecce. See Gen. 13:9; Deut. 11:30; 1 Kings 15:23, and scores of other places. It is in such cases rendered הא by the Syriac (Lo! behold!) as it gives it in this very place. The LXX. in such cases have ἰδοὺ, and the Vulgate ecce. In the Hebrew itself, in passages precisely parallel in Kings and Chronicles (see examples in Noldius) חלא and הנה are interchanged. So also in the Targum renderings. Its interjectional force appears here by its being put in parallelism with רְאֵה behold (ἰδού) in the second clause. It is, moreover, the language of emotion here (of admiration) and therefore exclamatory and broken; literally: Lo Eloah! height of Heaven! as in 11:8, גָבְהֵי שָׁמַים, heights of Heaven! or 0, immeasurable height! [358]Ver. 12. Heaven sublime. גָּבֹהַ (Gaboah) is in Hebrew the emotional word for height in distinction from the more prosaic terms, and therefore the rendering sublime is chosen, not only to avoid a tautology in English, but as most expressive of the emotional. This appears from its other sense of glory. It is height with wonder (ὕψος). It is strictly a construct noun without any words of assertion, or of place: Ecce, Eloah! Sublimitas Cælorum! We must supply connective words. [359] Ver. 12. Behold the crown of stars. Literally the head of the stars (ראש) Rendered in various ways: Delitzsch, head; so Umbreit and others; Conant, summit; Renan, le front des etoiles. The crown seemed preferable, as denoting some brilliant star or constellations, nearly overhead, as those three brilliant constellations, the Swan, the Eagle and the Harp, with each a star of the first magnitude, appear almost directly overhead in the early part of the autumnal nights. It was first thought of rendering ראש, the zenith, or the pole, but the first would be too astronomical, and the latter would be incorrect, for the pole star or stars are not overhead, and would not be selected for their altitude. It is a night scene,—a real scene. They are looking up to the very vertex of the heavens, at the constellations shining down upon them from the immeasurable spaces above. Nothing gives such a conception of altitude, when it is regarded as something emotional in distinction from the mere frigid mathematical estimate of abstract number. How very high they are! It is as when we read the old account of the Flood; not simply that the waters rose fifteen cubits, or more, over certain measurements. That may have come from tradition, or in some other way. There is little or no emotion in it. But when the writer says the waters rose, up—up,—מאד—מאד—higher—higher—we feel that it is a spectator who is describing the scene, or that it is all a designed and artful deception. So here; this emotional language: Lo! Eloah! sublimity of heaven! See! the crown of stars! how very high they are! ὅσον ὕψος! The rapt simplicity of the language, its broken, wondering utterances all show that if it is a painting, it is a painting from the life, the vivid representation of a real scene in which the emotion overpowers and checks the language. It is a silent, heartfelt, admiration, like that of the Shepherd in Homer’s exquisite night scene, Iliad viii. 559— πάντα δέ τ’ εἴδεται ἄστρα· γέγηθε δέ τε φρένα ποιμήν— “When all the stars appear, and the Shepherd rejoices in his soul.” [360]Ver. 13. ’Tis that thy thought is saying. But when had Job said this, or anything like it? It would not be easy to point it out, unless in some way, the language, 9:8, could be tortured into some fashion of such a meaning namely, that God could not see because He was so high, and could not look through the cloud. Eliphaz, however, seems to pride himself upon the greatness of the other view which he assumes to take, namely, that the higher God is, the more keenly does He see every thing below Him. Compare Ps. 113:5, 6, where God is said to be so high that “He stoops down to see the things even in the heavens,”—the lower heavens—as well as things on earth. Delitzsch renders אמרת thou thinkest, or thoughtest for which there is the authority of Greek verbs of speaking, and in the same way for thinking or speaking to one’s self. But Job no more thought this than said it. He could form as high notions of God’s space altitude, as Eliphaz, and he never had the crude notion that God could not see from behind the cloud; but space altitude, or space distance, was but little to him compared with that other idea of the Divine nearness to his soul, which he had somehow lost, and for which he so intensely mourned. We see this in the next chapter, and some of his language there about “not finding God on the right or on the left,” may have been suggested by these very words by which Eliphaz sought to overwhelm him. It mattered little to him how high He might be above the stars. It was a present God for whom he longed, when he said, “O that I knew where I might find Him.” Without the feeling of His near grace, the theistic idea, with its highest space conceptions, had as little moral value as the modern scientific deity, so far off in time, and who has done nothing since the first projection of “the nebular fluid” in empty space. [361]Ver. 13 The dark araphel. It was thought best to keep in the translation this grand sounding, and most significant Hebrew word. It denotes the nimbus, the black thunder cloud—caligo nubium. [362]Ver. 14. All by himself he walks. Delitzsch: He walketh at His pleasure יתהלך. The Hithpahel keeps the personal or reflex sense, denoting a course of action. Compare it as applied to man, Ps. 39:7. Eliphaz seems to ascribe to Job the idea which Lucretius gives us of the gods as living by themselves, extra mundum, and taking no part in human affairs. See Luc. I. 57. [363]Ver. 15. Call to mind. תשמור, rendered observe, keep, etc. So Conant and Delitzsch. The other sense, to watch, to take note of, Ps. 17:4, seems better adapted to the warning style of Eliphaz. [364]Ver. 16. Withered up. See note ch. 16:18. [365]Ver. 16. Melted. יצק is used of metals melted, dissolved, and thus poured forth, not of water generally. The rendering above given is not only truer, but more expressive. The reference would seem to be not to the flood, but to the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, fused or melted by the volcanic lightning. This is confirmed, ver. 20, in the mockery or by-word of the righteous: “Their abundance hath the fire consumed.” The overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah became a by-word in the Hebrew, as in the phrase, “the overturning of Sodom and Gomorrah,” so often repeated by the Prophets. The same language passed into the Koran. See Note Genesis (Lange), pp. 412, 443. [366]Ver. 17. To them. One of the sudden changes of person so common in the Poetical Hebrew. [367]Ver. 18. That way of evil men. The second clause is a repetition of Job’s language, 21:16. Eliphaz perhaps means to show that he can say this with more sincerity than Job. [368]Ver. 19. By-word. לעג here can hardly have the meaning of sport or derision, though that is its usual sense. We must not, indeed, judge it by our modern more Christianized feeling; but such a rendering would be incongruous to an event represented as long past, such as this ever-memorable catastrophe of Sodom and Gomorrah. The way of speaking of it assumed the warning, but not the taunting or mocking form. See Note 18 and the reference there. [369]Ver. 21. Make friends. הַסְכֶּן נָא. The Hiphil form here, we may suppose, is suggested by, and still preserves some of the sense of, the Kal., ver. 1. Make thyself truly profitable—serve Him truly, and not with a view to thy own profit, as is intimated, according to our rendering, in the second clause of ver. 1. Umbreit well gives it: Zeig dich als treuen Diener ihm. [370]Ver. 21. Good shall come to thee. The term good—the divine blessing, as some render. When a man serves God without thinking of his own profit in so doing, then will he be truly profited. It confirms the view the translator has taken of the second clause of ver. 1. [371]Ver. 22. Instruction. תורה. The absence of the article and the general style of the exhortation show that it is precept or instruction generally, and not the Mosaic law, or any fixed code, that is intended. [372]Ver. 23. To Shaddai turn. The exhortation here is also in the words of Zophar, 11:14, “let not wrong abide,” etc. [373] Ver. 24. Lay up gold. The translator is satisfied that our E. V. is right here, though so many commentators vary from it, even so far as almost to reverse the thought. As Conant, whoso version is clearest and best expresses the sense of them all: Cast to the dust the precious ore, And the gold of Ophir to the stones of the brooks. That is, reject it; count it as dross—of no value. There are some very strong objections to this: 1. Such a contemp of wealth is not after the Old Testament style of speaking. Abraham is commended for his wealth; his great possessions are reckoned up as being a part of his own value. So is it with Job at the commencement and at the end. Sheep and camels are as much dross as the gold with which they are bought. 2. The translation objected to makes a jar in the general movement of the passage. There is nothing in its structure demanding a parenthesis, and the other view, which regards the gold and the silver as a blessing, is but an enlarged specification of the promise, good shall come to thee, ver. 21. It is, too, a part of the restoration or building up promised ver. 23, and so remarkably verified in the end of the book. 3. Job had, at that time, no gold of Ophir, or wealth of any kind, to cast away, and such advice to him in Eliphaz would seem to be a mockery, whilst making it the love of gold would be far-fetched here, even if it had any seeming warrant from the words. 4. שִׁית never means to cast away, projicere, a sense which Gesenius gives to accommodate it to this one place. It is a very uniform word, meaning to put, place, etc., and when used in such a connection as this has almost the contrary meaning of depositing. laying up, treasuring up, etc. Gesenius’ reference to Ruth 3:15 has no applicability. The easy rendering there is: “He measured the barley, and put it upon her,” as a load. 5. In opposition to the idea of rejecting as worthless stands the evident fact, that the point of the comparison in “dust and pebbles” is not worthlessness of value quality, but greatness of quantity. The other view (that of E. V.) is perfectly consistent with the context before and after. Eliphaz assures job that if he repents (the common Arabic sense of שוב = תוב), he shall be abundantly prospered, and gold may be a part of such prosperity as well as any other kind of property. שִׁית here may be taken as an imperative with a predictive sense; but it is better to regard it as an infinitive connected with תִּבָּנֶה ver. 23: “Yes, so built up as to put gold, or lay up gold, as dust.” For a passage exactly parallel to the second clause, see 2 Chron. 1:15; 9:27; “Solomon made silver in Jerusalem as plentiful, כָּאֲבָנִים, as the stones.” על, in the first clause, is comparative from the idea of one thing placed by or right over another, or rather with the sense of over or beyond, like מ comparative, or the Greek παρὰ sometimes. In the second clause, instead of בצור, Kennicott found כצור in the more ancient editions. But it may make the same sense taken either way, as Jona Ben Gannach (Aboul Walid), in his Grammar, pa. 34, gives a good many examples of what he styles בית תמורה, the beth of exchange, that is, of substitution or comparison—one thing in the place of another, and so performing the office of כ. See the late Frankfort edition (Hebrew) of the Sepher Ha Rikma, pa. 34. What follows, ver. 25: The Almighty shall be thy treasure, is in harmony with this, and even made more emphatic by it: “Gold thou shalt have, the richest earthly treasures, but above all, and crowning all, the blessing of God.” The view here taken was held by the best of the old commentators cited in Poole’s Synopsis; it is clearly maintained by Rosenmueller, and partially by Umbreit. It is confirmed by the old Versions, especially the Syriac, which is remarkably clear: “Thou shalt gather (תכנש, lay up, treasure up) silver like dust, and gold of Ophir like the sands of the sea.” [374]Ver. 25. Thy precious ore. A superlative word is wanted for the Hebrew intensive plural, בצריך. [375]Ver. 25. Silver from the mine. Literally, silver of toilings—obtained by hard labor, either from the depths of the earth (see 28:3, 9), or from the high mountains (comp. Psalm 95:4, תּועֲפוֹת הָרִים, rendered “strength of the hills,” or labors of the hills). It is the radical idea of יעף, to be weary—that which is obtained with great pains. [376]Ver. 29. Aloft—גַּאֲוָה=גֵּוָה, elevation, or elation in general. It is best taken here interjectionally, like our phrases, upward! onward. So Zöckler very happily: Wenn sie abwärts gehen, so sagst du, “empor!” The exhortation here is something like that which Eliphas gave, 4:3, 4, when he speaks of Job’s having “strengthened the feeble and lifted up the sinking.” So here, Job should use his experience for the raising up of the depressed. [377] Ver. 30. The guilty, אִי־נָקִי, literally, the not innocent, a milder expression than the guilty. אִי is a negative, an apocopated form of אֵין, only occurring elsewhere 1 Sam. 4:21, in the proper name Ichabod (אִי־כָבוֹד), improperly rendered, sometimes, where is the glory? It is literally no glory, or the glory gone. This particle אי, as a negative, becomes quite common in the later Rabbinical Hebrew, as in the frequent phrases, אִי אֶפְשַׁר, impossible, אִי הֶכְרַח, non necessarium. See, on this passage, the notes of Conant and Delitzsch. The latter regards Eliphaz as predicting what was actually fulfilled in himself and his companions, ch. 42:8, when they are delivered from condemnation and punishment on account of Job’s superior purity. General Note. Chap. 23 seems to mark an interval, or a new scene, or simply a new day, in the dramatic movement. Ewald thinks the discussion extended over several days. This is very probable. When the friends first came, they sat in silence with the sufferer, “seven days and seven nights,”—a mode of expression denoting a number of days at least. What is there improbable in the supposition that days, with intervening nights, were occupied with the discussion itself. Still less improbable is the thought that there were intervals of silence. It would be in harmony with the ways of the Arabian Consessus, marked by patience, and a deliberate waiting of one party for another, to give time for reply or silent thought. And how appropriate would this be in the case of the suffering, exhausted Job. The pauses of silence in the midst of his speeches are elsewhere alluded to, but more or less of an interval may come between some, or all of them, taken as wholes. This chap. 23 with its peculiar commencement, certainly does not look like an immediate reply to the preceding speech of Eliphaz. In the very first words, Job seems absorbed in himself, in his own sad case, and although, in the course of it, there are some things which seem to have been suggested by the previous speaker, yet, in the main, it has very much the character of an outburst of feeling, betraying little consciousness of any antecedent or present outward surroundings. Again—they must have had some time to sleep—the friends, at least, though Job could not sleep for pain (see 7:4)—and the preceding speech of Eliphaz seems evidently to have been in the evening, or in the night somewhat advanced, when “the crown” of brilliant stars, right over head, presented such an appearance of extraordinary altitude. As shown in the notes to 22:12, the language in which that vivid night scene is painted reveals emotion, such as must have been felt by actual spectators. Such words were never used by any one speaking in the daytime. Then, again, there is in the close of the speech of Eliphaz a falling off, as it were, from the former harshness, especially as shown in ver. 5 and onwards. A more soothing tone is adopted, as though, soothed himself by the contemplation of the silent heavens, he meant to calm the mind of Job, by a picture of returning prosperity and new gifts of grace,—thus leaving him to get what rest he could. How the others pass the night we are not told, although they must have been very near him. Thus viewed, the commencing words of ch. 23 may be taken in their most literal sense of hodie, to-day, and not as a mere intensive expression for the present moment: “Even now,” as Delitzsch takes it, or “after all our efforts.” That makes a fair sense, though the one here given is not only the more literal, but the more impressive. Job has been moaning all the night upon his couch of ashes (see 7:4), and when morning breaks, the first thing heard from him is that mournful refrain, that wailing complaint of God’s estrangement, which makes all their labored advice indifferent to him. It may be noted, too, that the stricter sense of hodie is expressed by גַּם denoting addition, again, still more, another day of sorrow and reproach. So Renan: Encore, une fois ma plainte. And thus he sends up that cry of the first verse which he had been laboring though unable to repress. [378]Ver. 1. Rebellious still. The weight of authority is in favor of giving מרי the sense which would naturally come from מרה instead of מרר, although the two forms are allied. In the present passage, too, they would come to very much the same thing. Delitzsch renders it, biddeth defiance. Zöckler, in a similar way, as also Ewald and Umbreit. Renan, appeleé révolte. Still it does not necessarily mean rebellion against God, but rather rebellion against all his own efforts to suppress his impassioned grief. It bursts forth in spite of all he can do. And this is in harmony with the second clause: heavier than my groaning. [379]Ver. 1. The hand upon me. It is only a true translation of ידי, and of its possessive suffix of the 1st person, if we take יד, hand, for the plague sent upon him,—as the weight of authority, old and new, seems to require. Severe affliction is so frequently denoted in Hebrew by the words יד יהוה, the hand of the Lord, that the ellipsis naturally arises, and the word hand alone is used for the whole phrase. See Ps. 39:11, where נֶגַע, blow or plague, in the 1st clause, is equivalent to תִּגְרַת יָדְךָ, the attack of thy hand, in the second. It may seem harsh to us, but to the Hebrews it would be more easy and natural than to use hand literally, as Delitzsch does, for the organ as the instrument for the outward suppression of inward feeling: “my hand lieth heavily on my groaning,” [380]Ver. 3. O, that I knew where I might find him! The Psalmist would have said, find my God, אֵלִי or אֱלֹהַי. The absence of such personal expressions in Job’s speeches is a peculiar feature of the book. It is an evidence all through, of the great want which made Job’s chief affliction—that hiding of God’s countenance he so mourns for here. There is something, too, very significant in his apparent avoidance, sometimes, of the Divine name: might find Him. It has occasionally, something of an angry look, as in 3:20: “Why does He give light to the wretched?” Here, however, there is a deep pathos in it: “O that I might find Him”—Him, my estranged God, whom my soul seeketh, but whom I hardly dare to name. [381]Ver. 6. His mighty strength. The reference does not seem to be to the idea sometimes expressed, that a man could not live if God appeared to him in His majesty. There is meant rather the strength of argument (יריב). Would He “be strict to mark iniquity?” Would He set out the tremendous claims of His law and justice? Something inspires Job to say, Ah no; He would just look at me (ישים לב put His heart upon me, as the ellipsis is usually filled up), have regard to me,—see my misery; He would “remember that I am but dust.” [382] Ver. 7. There pleads with him. This is the simplest and most literal rendering of the four Hebrew words of the text. There is no need of putting in any potential or subjunctive signs, such as may, might, could, would, würde, etc. They may be inferred, if the reader chooses, since, in English, pleads (indicative in form) may be equivalent to may or would plead, if the context demands it; as though it were said, that is the place where a righteous one pleads, (may plead) with Him. It may also be remarked that ישר is also used impersonally for justice, integrity, as in Psalm 111:8, where it is joined with truth; so that it might be rendered: there justice pleads, or is pleading with Him. But such a personification is hardly to be expected in Job. It may be held that the sense usually given is the nearer one, and the Rationalist may, therefore, be content with it; but that does not prevent one from taking a higher and wider idea, if the language fairly suggests it; since Holy Scripture, regarded as given by God whatever may be the method of inspiration, may be rationally treated as having a vast fulness of meaning,—not double senses strictly, or enigmatical, but ascending ideas, or stories of thought, the lower the basis of the higher, according to the spiritual-mindedness of the biblical student. When the clause is rendered in its simplest form: “a righteous One there pleads with Him,” it suggests the thought of the Great Intercessor. It is, too, not altogether foreign to the book. It brings up again that mysterious idea which somehow came into the mind of Job, 16:21, born in him, and forced out of him, as it would seem, by his extreme anguish or a sense of his spiritual desolation: Whilst unto God mine eye is dropping tears, That He Himself would plead for man with God, As one of Adam’s race doth for his brother plead. There may be here, also, something of that same “melancholy conceit” (as Umbreit styles it) which Job gets into his crazy head, of “God’s standing by him against God.” (see Note 16:21). This righteous One personates, or is personated by, every other one who thus pleads for man on earth. The more near sense suits here, and may be taken, therefore, as the true exegetical interpretation on which all else must be grounded; but what right has this “higher criticism,” as it calls itself, to shut out that greater idea to which the lower mounts, and which so touchingly appears in the other passage: God only can help us with God. On the rendering plead, see Note 16:21. שָׁם may refer to circumstance or condition as well as place. See Pss. 132:17; 133:3. [383]Ver. 9. On the North. The North is the region of the most brilliant celestial phenomena. It is probably suggested to Job by what Eliphaz had said, the night before, about “the crown of stars.” It is not, however, a view of the vastness of God in space which Job so much desires, as nearness, or a sense of His spiritual presence. See Note 12:12. בעשתו here (in his working) must refer to some special manifestations of the Divine creative and supporting power in the constellations that surround the pole; and, therefore, the epithet in the translation is necessary to bring out what in the original speaking had sufficient emphasis without it. [384] Ver. 9. In the void South. Here, too, the epithet is used as really belonging to the significance of the language, and as justified by the figure contained in יעטף. It is the same as that given by the phrase חַדְרֵי תֶמָן, the secret chambers of the South, 9:9. Job points to the Southern region of the heavens which seems to be over Teman. It is because few constellations appear there as seen from the Northern Hemisphere. It is more like void space as compared with the brilliant North. Or there may be some idea of the hidden underworld toward which that region is imagined to be the way. See Virg. Georg. I., 242. Hic vertex nobis semper sublimis; at illum Sub pedibus Styx atra videt, Manesque profundi. It is to be lamented that this sublime passage should be marred by two of our best commentators. This is done by Umbreit, who most unnecessarily goes to an Arabic word, which is really not cognate, to get the sense of covering for עשה, common Hebrew verb as it is, and by Delitzsch, who whilst refuting Umbreit commits a similar fault in respect to the יעטף of the second clause,—giving it the Arabic sense of turning aside, instead of the Hebrew sense of covering, wrapping (Pss. 65:14; 104:2). Between them they have effaced two plain Hebrew words, and blotted out a most glorious contrast so conspicuously set forth in the celestial appearances themselves. [385]Ver. 10. But my most secret way: דרן עמדי. The word עִמָּדִי denotes something nearer, more familiar than עִם would have done. See Ps. 23:4, כי אתה עמדי, “for thou art with me.” My way that is nearest to me, most familiar to me, and yet better known to him than it is to myself. The phrase דרן עמדי, as used here, may help us to the meaning of that controverted place, 9:35, לא כן עמדי, not so with me, which would seem to give us the opposite idea-of de-rangement, or being not one’s-self—out of himself—as there rendered. It is there the wild, confused, delirious state, instead of the well-known familiar way of the soul’s movements. Hence the same metaphor of de-rangement, in so many languages. See Note on 9:35. But he knows. This is another example of a sudden rising of hope and confidence following immediately after the expression of great darkness or bewilderment. The thought of being known to God,—of God “looking at him” (ver. 6) though he cannot see his beholder,—this immediately revives his sinking spirits by assuring him of the Divine providence, as well as his own seeing God would have done. It was the skeptical feeling, the dark shadow of a theism, or fatality, coming over his soul that so distressed him. De profundis clamavit. [386]Ver. 10. As gold. זהב, aurum purissimum, the shining gold, by way of contrast, and in reference, probably, to what Eliphaz says of בֶּצֶר 22:24. The true gold is Job himself—the true “silver from the mine” (22:25) that God is so mysteriously working. [387]Ver. 13. Ever one. בְּאֶחָד: Literally, in one. In one way, it may be; but the best commentators regard it as beth essentiæ. [388] Ver. 17. Not from the darkness. The rendering given of this verse in E. V., and which corresponds to that of Umbreit and other commentators of repute, makes no intelligible sense. It would represent Job as having this awful dread upon his soul because God had not “cut him off before the darkness” came, and then, with a feeble tautology besides, because He, God, “covered the darkness from his face.” It all turns upon the rendering of כּי (or rather the idea for which כי gives the reason), and on preserving the analogy between the מִפָּנָיו and the מִמֶּנּוּ of ver. 15, and the מִפְּנֵי and מִפָּנַי of ver. 17. The כי gives a protest rather than a reason. It was not the darkness that he dreaded so much, as a thing personal to himself, or the difficulty of understanding his own case, as that awful feeling which came over him when thinking of the confusion, blind disorder, apparently, which seems to prevail in all the affairs of the world, especially human affairs. This protest seems to be in reply to what Eliphaz had said, 22:11, about the darkness which covered Job, and which, he intimates, had been brought upon him by his sins: Or darkness that thou canst not see, Or water floods that overwhelm thy soul. See the conclusive reasons for the rendering here adopted, as given by Delitzsch, Ewald, Dillman, and Zöckler. The other rendering: “Because I was not cut off before the darkness, neither hath He covered the darkness from my face,” would require a sudden change in the use of מִפָּנַי ,מִפְּנֵי, ver. 17, as compared with מִפָּנָיו and מִמֶּנּוּ of ver. 15, or from the causal sense, “on account of,” to the avertive sense of “before,” besides the wrong rendering of נִצמַתִּי. In the second clause of ver. 17, the מ in מִפָּנַי may have its force on פני immediately following, as Conant well remarks, or on the whole clause: not for myself, whose face darkness has covered—or: not on account of the fact that darkness (אֹפֶל black midnight darkness) hath covered my face. This gives a sense most grand as well as significant. Job had lost the Spiritual vision of God. He could not find Him,—could not trace Him in his works or in his providences,—all was dark in respect to himself. But there was still support in the belief that God knew him, looked upon him, ver. 6, knew his way perfectly, ver. 10. Whilst this hope remained, he was not altogether lost. But the other thought of fixed law which is nothing else than arbitrary decree (vers. 13, 14), in other words, a blind fatality, whether called God or nature, which had no regard to human affairs at all, no moral concern for man, this was anguish unalleviated. It was this that weakened, הֵרַךְ, in modern phrase, broke his heart (ver. 16). It was when he thought of this, that “trembling seized all his flesh.” 21:6. נִצְמַתִּי, ver. 17. Not cut off, but reduced to silence, awed, confounded. [389]Ver. 1. How is it? Ewald, Umbreit, Heiligstedt, Schlottmann, Delitzsch, Zöckler—a formidable array of authorities—take this as a direct question: “Why are not times reserved (laid up, appointed) by the Almighty?” In the same way, most of the older commentators cited in Poole’s Synopsis. The English Version, Cartwright, Lud. De Dieu, and others, give it a different turn: Quare guum Deo non sint occulta tempora, nihilominus tamen, etc.: “Why, seeing times,” etc., or “why if,” etc. The Vulgate makes it a direct declaration: ab Omnipotente non sunt abscondita tempora. The Syriac has it: Why are not the wicked hid from God? as though there had been read רשעים, instead of עתים. The ἀσεβεῖς ἄνδρες of the LXX. looks the same way. The authorities just cited generally take נצפנו in its secondary sense of laid up, hence reserved, appointed; though some of them give it the primary meaning; Why are times not hidden from the Almighty? As though Job meant to intimate, querulously, that it were better to think He knew nothing about human affairs than that He let things go on in such darkness and disorder. Conant adheres here, substantially, to our E. V.: “Why, if times are not hidden, etc.” The translator is inclined to go with him. Job is speaking according to the hypothesis of his friends. The question, taken directly according to the usual force of מַדּוּעַ (which means more than why—rather for what reason, Gr. τί μαθών), would be a strong affirmation of the certainty of the fact, that times are not reserved by the Almighty—a position which Job would hardly dare to take directly, and which, certainly, he would not address to the others as an admitted truth, or one they would not controvert. There is no difficulty about עתים and ימיו. All understand them, the first, as denoting events, according to a frequent Biblical usage, and the second, days of retribution or of divine manifestations. The hypothetical idea is certainly very natural to the context, but what grammatical ground, it may be said, is there for it? An answer to this is found in the peculiar nature of the particle מַדּוּעַ, before adverted to. Another reason arises from the fact, that this particle certainly has an influence upon the second clause, even if we take ו, in וידעיו, as a mere copulative. “Why are times not reserved, and why do those who know Him not see?” This would make it a negation of both propositions, whereas from the context, or rather from the whole chapter, the thing denied or doubted would rather seem to be the connection between them, or some truth admitted in relation to God which is regarded as inconsistent with another having relation to man. There is, however, no absolute need of supplying any such particles as if or seeing that. The broken style of Job’s utterance becomes clear when literally and [illigible]sely followed. It is simply taking the words as they stand, only throwing the force, of מדוע on the second clause, and thus giving the intervening part a parenthetical character. In this way, ו becomes inferential, that is, it connects by way of inference, or thoughts rather than words. It may then be thus fairly paraphrased: “How is it?—times are not hidden from God, you say—and yet (ו connecting illatively, or one fact with another) those who know Him, or claim to know Him, as you claim to know Him, and to speak for Him, do not see His days of retribution?” מדוע, how is this? מה ידוע, τί μαθών, as Gesenius gives its etymology.“Times (events) not hidden from the Almighty:” that this idea is intended by Job in this first verse, appears from the fact of its pervading his argument and all the pictures he draws of bad men and their incomprehensible impunity. This is the burthen of his complaint: God sees it all, knows it all, yet seems to pay no attention to it (see ver. 12)—does not heed the enormity, lets it go on—“lets the wicked feel confidence” in their impunity (ver. 23), though all the time “His eyes are upon them,” and upon their doings. It should, however, never be forgotten that all these strong pictures of Job are by way of protest against the representations of the others. He himself has some dream of a great dies retributionis, according to the best interpretation of 21:30, but here he confines himself to their views of the present state of things, maintaining that to all appearance, whether the wicked prosper, or whether they meet with misfortunes (there being no real inconsistency, or such as troubles many commentators, in his presenting both sides), God seems to have nothing to do with it, does not interfere with it, leaves things to take their own course, though seeing it all the while. Job is in a strange state of mind, bordering on a kind of fatalism; but his extreme positions are not so much his own better feeling as they are the ground to which he is driven in showing up the fallacies and one-sidedness of their views. This thought, kept in mind, will furnish a key to much that has seemed dark and contradictory in the chapter. [390]Ver. 2. Yes, landmarks. Here Job enters abruptly upon specifications of events showing the disorders God permits in the world. The whole chapter is a vivid picture of this, although the items are strangely mixed together, as though the passionateness of the speaker carried him out of all method. We have here the wretched vagabond wicked, the rich and powerful wicked, the suffering poor, the bold and dastard criminals, the murderer, the adulterer, the thief, characters of every grade, their prosperity and their misfortunes, the flight of the bad man (ver. 18), whether it be the thief pursued by the popular curse, or the fallen tyrant fleeing from the hootings of the proletaires, his rising again to power (ver. 22), his dying like all other men, the common grave, the worm, the oblivion, all set before us in a few touches that no effort of Dickens or Victor Hugo could rival. In the midst of it comes the brief-sketched scene of the stormed city (ver. 12), the dying groans, the wailing of the departing spirits of the slain, and what runs through all, and affects us more than all, the thought of God above, who sees, yet seemingly “cares for none of these things.” This is the polemic aim of the picture as against the friends. Job’s darkness has a background of truth, and we need not therefore fear to say, that it is better than their false light. [391]Ver. 4. Their right. Heb. דרך, their way, their home. That to which they have been accustomed. Del. [392]Ver. 5. The barren wild their bread. Description of a wild gypsy life. [393]Ver. 6. Reap his fodder. The general sense clear, the particular applications uncertain. Delitzsch seems to give the best interpretation; “The bad rich man has these vagabond proletaires to cut his fodder, but does not entrust to them the reaping of the better kinds of grain. So also he prudently hesitates to employ them as vintagers, but makes use of their labor to gather the straggling, late ripening grapes. In this and the following verses, the transitions from the one class to the other are very rapid. The most concise way to express it in a translation was to italicise one of the classes. [394]Ver. 7. Naked they lodge. The vagabonds again. The transition very abrupt, but all the more vivid. [395]Ver. 8. The rock their bed. Literally, they embrace the rock. [396]Ver. 9. Others tear; the widow’s child, as mentioned just above. These are the wicked rich as distinguished from the proletaires, or reckless poor. [397]Ver. 10. Their garments. The pawned garment taken from the poor. [398]Ver. 11. Their: the rich. They: the poor. [399]Ver. 11. Thirsting still. Not allowed to drink of it; even as the hungry laborer not allowed to taste the grain he is carrying. Their thirst aggravated by the sight of the wine flowing from the presses which they turn. [400]Ver. 12. The city filled with dead. Literally, the city of the dead. Here comes suddenly a new picture of a city taken by storm. The accents connect מתים closely with עיר, and if they are to be regarded, the former cannot be the subject of ינאקו, as Ewald and others render it, whatever may be the meaning of the noun. The vowel pointing, in most copies, is מְתִים, generally rendered men, which would give the rendering in the one case, men groan, and, in the other, men from the city—a very feeble sense in both cases. Delitzsch tries to remedy this by rendering it men of war, with a reference to Deuteronomy 2:34; 3:6; Judg. 20:48. But men in those passages are simply so named in distinction from women. In the translations of Ewald, Umbreit, Dillmann, Zöckler, it is rendered Sterbende, the dying, which Conant also adopts. In this they follow the Syriac, which derived it from the reading מֵתִים instead of מְתִים. The English reader will see how slight the difference in the vowel pointing, (*) instead of (:), and how easily the change might be made. The Syriac, from an unpointed text, took the reading that seemed most natural. It also appears in some Hebrew codices, and is well defended by De Rossi as presenting the best parallelism to חללים, the slain or wounded. Those who have adopted the reading מֵתִים, which they render the dying, connect it with ינאקו, the dying groan, thereby disregarding the accents. These, however, may be observed if we give to מֵתִים its true rendering, which is not the dying, but the dead, past participle: From the city of the dead, so called because of the vast numbers of the dead lying within it—from the city filled with dead. Then there may be given to ינאקו a general subject, they groan, or it may be taken impersonally, as in the translation given above. The form נאק and distinguished from the more usual אנק, aid as having more of an onomatopic resemblance to the thing signified, is used especially of the groans of the slain, as in Ezek. 30:24. “I will break the arms of Pharaoh and he shall groan the groanings of the slain.” This greatly favors, too, the reading of מֵתִים. Here, as in other parts of the Hebrew Scriptures, the authors of the accents, if they belong not rather, in some way, to the Divine originals, have shown their spiritual acuteness. By the connection they have made, ינאקו stands by itself, as it were; the subject is left to the imagination of the hearer, as something well known, and whose suppression, therefore, is more pathetic than its mention: “they groan.” In this position, too, it becomes more strictly the imperfect of description, instead of mere narration: “they are groaning—groans are continually ascending.” All this makes it the more emotional. The force of it may have been given by a look or a gesture, but the strongest expression of it in a translation demands some interjectional word or phrase: hark! how they groan! as though the narrator brought the scene right before him. [401] Ver. 12. The spirits of the slain. נֶפֶש may be rendered spirit (or, collectively, spirits) as denoting the going out of the breath or life, or the soul, as Delitzsch renders it. So Umbreit: ruft laut die Seele der zum Tod Verwundetun; Zöckler the same way. It need not be relied upon as proof of any peculiar notions about the separate existence of the soul, and yet is in perfect harmony with other ancient descriptions to the same effect. How often does Homer represent the spirits (ψυχαὶ) of those slain in battle as going out wailing, shrieking, τρίζουσαι, and often predicting the doom of their slayers, according to that very old belief in the vaticinating power of the departing spirit. So Hector’s ghost takes its mourning departure to the Unseen World, Iliad 22:362. ψυχὴ δ’ ἐκ ῥεθέων πταμένη Ἀϊδὸσδε βεβήκει. ὃν πότμον ΓΟΟΩΣΑ— Bewailing his sad doom. [402]Ver. 12. Dire enormity. The first feeling in the study of his passage is, that the reading תְּפִלָּה, prayer, which the Syriac followed is the right one. It has led Umbreit and Conant, with other excellent commentators, so to render it: “God heeds not the prayer.” There comes to mind, however, that rule of criticism, sound in the main, that the more rare form is to be preferred, on the rational ground that a change to it from the apparently easier is less likely than the contrary course. The view is strengthened, too, when we look carefully at the idea conveyed by the other form תִּפְלָה, though at first it seems strange. It is an unusual word, and its etymological sense, without salt, ineptum, (see this form Job 1:22; Jer. 23:13; and another from the same root תָּפֵּל Job 6:6; Lam. 2:14) strikes us as poor, and unsuitable to so vivid and impressive a context. From this primary sense, however, of insulsitas, unsaltedness, insipidity, comes that of absurdity, monstrosity, whence it is applied to anything odious and abominable, that which can be reduced to no rule of consistency—abnormal, abhorrent—an anomaly, as Detlitzsch renders it. Hence the term chosen by the translator from a similar etymology, though having more force than the word of Delitzsch—an enormity (e norma) out of all rule, utterly irrational. The more it is examined, the more it will be seen to give, not only the truer sense lexically, but the more impressive,—the epithet only calling attention to it, without adding to its meaning. It is a monstrous enormity, so considered, a hideous blot on the face of creation; and yet, according to Job’s picture, God pays no attention to it. Horrible enough when we think of some sacked town, or castle, in remote Idumea; but how is the feeling of such an enormity increased when we bring to remembrance other scenes of slaughter far surpassing it in modern warfare,—of Borodino, for example, or Sedan; or when we call up other bloody pictures from Ancient History, such as Thucydides’ account of the terrible defeat of the Athenians in the land and sea fight at Syracuse (close of Book 7:70, 71). Some of the language is very much like that of this verse of Job, the mingled wailing and shouting of the combatants, “the cry of the slayers and the slain,” ὀλλύντων τε καὶ ὀλλυμένων, in describing which the dry historian is carried up to the Homeric grandeur of language and conception. Another reason for preferring תִּפְלָה is that ישמע would have been the most natural verb to follow תְּפִלָּה (prayer), though ישים, with the usual ellipsis, would suit either reading. The Vulgate renders, Et Deus inultum abire non patitur; LXX. Αὐτὸς δὲ διατί τούτων ἐπισκοπὴν οὐ πεποίηται, which may suit either reading. [403]Ver. 13. They too. הֵמָּה emphatic. A new class mentioned, but spoken of as well known—those notorious characters. [404]Ver. 13. Trodden paths, well known, נְטִיבוֹת, in distinction from the more general word דרך—like Gr. ἀτραπός. Compare also the same word, Job. 38:20: “paths to its house,” that is, the light. [405]Ver. 14. At the dawn. Literally at the light, the first beginning of day-break. There is no contradiction here, as Merx maintains, of the previous description. They are called enemies of light as much in a moral as in a physical aspect. But even in the latter it is all consistent. The murderer starts at the break of day to surprise and slay the poor as he goes forth to his labor. Or the emphasis, as is most likely, is on יקום, denoting not his rising from his bed, but his sudden rising up from his ambush where he has been lying all night, waiting for his victim, whom he surprises at break of day. [406]Ver. 15. A masking veil. סתר has more properly the abstract sense of concealment, here put for the instrument of concealment, whether a veil or a mask. [407]Ver. 16. In covert do they Keep. Literally, they seal themselves up. למו, by themselves, or giving, as ל sometimes does, a reflex or hithpahel sense to the verb, though in such cases some call it pleonastic—as הָלַךְ לוֹ לֵךְ לְךָ, Gen. 12:1, בְּרַח לְךָ, Amos 7:12. This view is now generally adopted, but the old rendering of E. V., Tremellius and others: “which they have marked (Vulgate, agreed on) for themselves by day,” has some claims to consideration. The absence of ו gives it very much the appearance of a relative clause, and the verb to seal may easily denote anything put upon the house for recognition. Raschi tells us that some of their Rabbins explain it of the thieves putting balsam אֲפַּרְסְמוֹן upon the treasure houses discovered during the day, that they might know them by the smell in the night. [408]Ver. 17. Morning. Delitzsch would make morning the predicate: “The depth of the night is as the dawn of the morning;” but his reasons, drawn from the position of the accents, are not satisfactory. The other idea is the more consistent one: the morning is to them the time of fear. They recognize in it the terrors of the night, or what to other men are such. A change of number again, יכיר; but to be taken distributively: each one of them, whether murderer, adulterer, or thief. [409]Ver. 18. Light as the bubble. See the same comparison Hosea 10:7, “as the foam upon the waters” swiftly gliding away. It is the thief making his escape when the morning terrors come, as shown by its connection with the previous verse. The simplest and most literal view is the best and clearest. It removes immediately the difficulties which some find, as though Job here was contradicting himself in pointing out something unfavorable to the wicked man. For this reason it has been turned into a prayer, a wish: “light may he be, etc.,” but without a single mark in the language to countenance any such idea. It is a part of his picture, even if taken as describing generally the transitoriness of the evil life, and it is at once explained by keeping ever in view the two leading ideas contained in the first verse, namely, events (times) known to God, but no visible signs of retribution coming from His hand. The wicked man’s misfortunes are freely mentioned, the popular curse pursuing him, his death, and being carried off to Sheol, his fleeing and keeping out of the way of the vineyards; but these come from social and natural causes, not from any seen hand of God. It is just as the drought and heat carry off the snow waters. No more appearance of retribution in the one case than in the other. Both classes of events alike confirm his argument. [410]Ver. 18. The way of the vineyards is the open, known, cultivated country, in contrast with the forests, or the desert. See the similar expression; the way to the city. Eccles. 10:15. [411]Ver. 19. Melting snows. This is the best expression the translator could find for מֵימֵי שֶׁלֶג, waters of snow; the watery snow; unless it refers to the streams that have become swollen from the snows; but the sense of quick carrying off which is in גזל would not so well suit the drying up of full streams. Compare, however, Job 6:17. For the application of this, see remarks in note above. [412]Ver. 19. Those who. The second clause is an example of the extreme Hebrew conciseness; and yet the English nearly admits of it without sacrificing clearness: So Sheol, who have sinned—a construction barely tolerable, if we regard who as containing the object in the subject (like the relative what), just as in the Hebrew of the above the relative or object is contained in the personal pronoun existing in the form of the verb. [413]Ver. 20. The womb. Compare Isaiah 49:15. [414]Ver. 20. Feeds the worm. A most striking, yet mournful picture: Dead and gone; forgotten by the maternal heart; but the worm loves him—feeds sweetly on him. Comp. 21:33. There is no need of the sense sucks here, although it may be primary in מתק (compare מצץ), unless it carry the idea of sucking with relish; since the thought of pleasure or sweetness must not be lost from the comparison. [415]Ver. 20. Injustice. The simple rendering of עַוְלָה will do here, without taking it for the unjust man. It would only make a repetition; whilst the idea of his injustice, too. lying prostrate like a broken uprooted tree which can no longer yield him any fruit, makes quite an addition to the picture. If anything is to be supplied, it might perhaps be rendered his unjust gain, the cause put for the effect. The tree broken off, and no longer yielding, would represent this very well. If it is a personification, it might be taken as in the Bunyan style, the name given from the leading characteristic: Injustice, there he lies, uprooted like a tree. [416]Ver. 21. The barren childless. This was esteemed a more desolate state than that of the widow, even the bereaved or childless widow. [417]Ver. 21. No compassion. Negative phrases, like לֹא יְיֵטִיב (for יֵטִיב), are sometimes the most positive and severe in their significance: “Does no good to the widow,” as Umbreit and Delitzsch render it, is very tame. Not to do good here is to be inhuman and unmerciful. It is not a mere selfish neglect. So בְּלִיַּעַל (belial) is not unprofitableness (its etymological significance), but utter vileness, and בְּנֵי בְּלִיַּעַל (sons of Belial), the worst of men. So in Greek and Latin. Compare the ἀχρεῖος δοῦλος, the unprofitable servant of the gospel. In like manner, in-imicus is not merely not a friend (non amicus), but a positive enemy; im-mitis, not simply not mild, but most fierce and cruel. [418]Ver. 22. Bears away. מָשַׁךְ here may have the Arabic sense, very near akin to the Hebrew of seizing, holding fast; Comp. Ps. 28:3, although the common sense of drawing, dragging away, would suit very well. Whether this is a new character that here enters into the picture, or an old one brought up again, cannot be certainly decided. It looks some as though the one described, ver. 18, as pursued by the popular curse, whether robber or tyrant, had recovered power to the dismay of his enemies and of all others. “He rises up again,” and they have to escape for their lives. Delitzsch makes God the subject of משך: “He (God) preserveth the mighty.” But there is not the least warrant for this on the face of the text, nor does he give any authority for the sense of preserving thus taken for the verb. Nowhere has משך any such meaning. Others, like Umbreit, make אַבִּירִים the subject: Die Starken halten feet an ihrer Kraft. The singular verb itself is not an insuperable objection to this, although it is not easy, and no such indications appear as justify the collective use of the plural here, or the distributive use of the singular in some other verses. The context, too, is all against it. No intimation is given that the true subject of the verb here is not the same man, whoever he may be, that wronged “the childless barren,” and “showed no compassion to the widow.” He it is who, after his injustice to the weak, drags down his powerful foes. The conjunction ו would be sufficient to warrant such an inference, besides the structure of both verses pointing to a contrast as intended between these two varying classes of his victims, and thus making a completed picture. The verb יקום, too, seems to carry the idea of one who had once been overcome, but now rises up to a greater vengeance. [419]Ver. 23. God lets them rest. Literally: “He grants to them that they may be stayed in confidence.” God is doubtless the subject here of יתן, but the verse is not to be taken as indicating either favor or disfavor. Delitzsch’s a version is so made as to give the first idea: “God giveth him rest, and he is sustained, and His eyes are over all their ways,” that is, to preserve and prosper them. In this there is to be seen the influence of that idea which has so perverted the interpretation of this whole chapter. It is, that Job is solely intent on describing the prosperity of the wicked. But the contrary picture so comes out, in a number of verses, that no forcing can keep it out of sight. Hence the strangely conflicting efforts at explanation; one class of commentators charging the others with holding untenable positions, until extreme men, like Merx, settle the whole thing, to their own satisfaction, by the most arbitrary changes in the text. Generally Job is not very logical; but in this chapter, he seems never to lose sight of the two leading ideas, before mentioned, with which he sets out in its beginning: Events are not hidden from God, and yet these who profess to know Him do not see his visible days of retribution. Both are maintained here. God lets the wicked go on in their security; but He is not favoring them in so doing. The second clause does not mean looking upon them for preservation, but simply what it says: “His eyes are on their ways;” or as it is said Prov. 15:3: “beholding the evil and the good.” The language here reminds us of that which Paul uses Acts 17:30; when he speaks of God as overlooking the times (τοὺς μὲν χρόνους ὑπεριδὼν, Job’s word עתים, ver. 1), not in the sense of not seeing, or winking at as our translation gives it, but of looking over, or beyond, to the great day when all shall be right; just as the German verb übersehen and our overlook may have both senses according to the context, or to the division of its parts. In interpreting this chapter, the memorable passage 21:30, though controverted, is not to be lost sight of. Neither are we to regard Job as denying a thing so undeniable, whether regarded in the light of history or of revelation, us the fact of there being sometimes visible divine retributions upon earth, striking, though rare. But it was this view of their nonvisibility, or of their comparative rarity, that was here to be urged against extremely one-sided opponents, and every pious interruption of that argument would have been out of place. [420]Ver. 24. Like all. The force of כַּכֹּל, “like all,” goes through the clause. [421]Ver. 2. To Him. Bildad would overwhelm the impenitent Job with a display of God’s power and mighty works. He does this in a very grand style. As abstract truth, or regarded as something said about God (see remarks on the interpretation of אלֵיַ, 42:7, Int. Theism, pa. 85), it is better than Job’s passionate expostulation; but the latter, it may be said, is nearer to the great mystery which the untried Bildad has little feeling of, much as he thinks he understands it in theory. Renan says here; “Bildad, désespérant de vaincre l’impiété obstinée de Job, et pour montrer combien sa prétention d’arriver jusqu au trône de Dieu est insensée, cesse de le prendre à partie et se borne à exalter d’une manière générale la puissance divine.” [422]Ver. 2. Yea, and fear. The conjunction ו seems to have the force of the double et in Latin—both fear and dominion—or, dominion and fear, too, as though he meant to terrify the daring Job who talks (23:3) of coming even to God’s throne. Such a view is suggested by פַחַד,a stronger word than יראה, religious fear. This denotes dread, terror; and, as thus making a climax, seems like something added to the idea. “With Him is dominion,” etc. It reminds us of the doxology to the Lord’s Prayer; “Thine is the kingdom, the glory.” [423]Ver. 2. The harmony. Heb. שָׁלוֹם, peace, pax, pactum, as though referring to personal beings. Here, however, as spoken of the heavenly bodies, God’s hosts or armies, it must mean a physical harmony—something like “the music of the spheres,” or rather the higher thought of beauty and order out of which that Pythagorean conception arose. See Ps. 19:5: “Their line (their vibrating musical string) hath gone out to the ends of the world.” Vulgate: Concordiam in sublimibus suis. It is that idea of law as holding together the universe which all devout minds had long before Newton, although it was unknown in its mathematical terms. It is admirably expressed by Socrates in the Gorgias, 508 A, though treated there as an old idea of the wise: “For they say, the sages, that community (κοινωνίαν), harmony, peace, holds together heaven and earth, and therefore do they call it Kosmos.” [424]Ver. 3. O’er whom—arise. Some would renderיקום על surpass: God’s light surpasses that of the moon and stars. This is undoubtedly the idea, as appears in the verses following, but the more simple and literal rendering clearly expresses it. There is suggested, moreover, the idea of these lesser lights being but reflections from Him, “the Father of Lights,” James 1:17. With the first clause of the verse compare Isaiah 40:26. [425]Ver. 5. Look to the moon: even to the moon. עַד here expresses degree; usque ad, עד מאד—even to the moon so high. It goes with הֵן in calling attention. [426]Ver. 6. Corruption’s Child. Not merely to avoid an unpleasant tautology in English may this rendering be used, but as really giving that fuller etymological significance of the word which must have been felt in the original, since רִמָּה, the generic term for worm, is so called as the supposed product of putrefaction; see Exod. 16:24. אֱנוֹשׁ, man individually, poor and wretched, mortalis, βροτός. [427] Ver. 6. The son of man. בן אדם, man generically—the human race, humanity. See 17:14: To corruption have I said—my father thou; My mother and my sister—to the worm. How the Bible expresses the physical lowliness and the spiritual greatness of man—especially redeemed man united by faith to the Eternal—may be seen from Isaiah 42:14, 10: “Fear not thou worm, Jacob; fear thou not; for I am with thee, I strengthen thee; I help thee; I uphold thee by the right hand of my righteousness. Thou art mine.” [428]Ver. 2. Feeble arm. Man of the feeble arm. [429]Ver. 3. Truth in its immensity. The expression לָרֹב almost always denotes a vastness beyond count or measure; as Deut. 1:10; 10:22, etc., stars for multitude: Josh. 11:4; 2 Samuel 13:5, etc., sand on the sea shore, etc.; Judg. 6:5; 7:12, the innumerable locusts; 1 Kings 9:27, the countless willows of the valley, and so on in many other places. תּוּשִׁיּה here suggests the same idea as in 12:16, where see note; as also Excursus V, pa. 188. [430]Ver. 4. Of whom. את מי. This is rendered by some, with whom, that is, by the aid of whom. It agrees with a sense that is given to את when regarded as a preposition, and harmonizes quite well with the question in the second clause. Umbreit renders it to whom. So Delitzsch and others, whom hast thou taught, making it the subject of הִגַּדְתָּ, as in 31:37. The latter view may be modified by regarding מי as the object of the verbal sense in מִלִּין, rather than of the verb expressed; and that probably gives the reason of its being accompanied by את, the sign of the object, used when there is something emphatic about it, or requiring to be peculiarly noticed. Or if taken directly with הגדת, it may be because the verb, in that case, has a double object (whom dost thou speak words about?) like the Greek λἐγειν τινά τι. In many cases where the sense of with is given to את, it simply denotes government, as in the frequent phrase, עָשָׂה חֶסֶד אֶת־פ, did good with (or to) any one. This may be better rendered do one good (show him mercy), exactly like the other Greek phrase, δρᾶν τινά τι. [431]Ver, 4. Hast thou declaimed. This seemingly free rendering is given to הגדת מלין because the words, taken together, convey here just that idea, מלין is thus used for the more formal speeches (sermones) or speech-making, sententious and showy. The verb in its more primary sense of holding forth (setting before), making a show, contains the same idea. This is increased by the emphasis on מי, taken with את: who is it, who is the Being you are making speeches about? The reference is to Bildad’s display in respect to the heavenly bodies, as Eliphaz, too, had done 22:12. These are patent glories; but the mind of Job is on the dark mysterious side of things, and, therefore, instead of looking up, he looks down, and calls attention, in the opposite direction, to the depths below, left only to the trembling imagination of man, but as visible to God as any of the upper splendor that strikes our eye. [432]Ver. 5. Where. This word of place is necessary as connected with the declaration ver. 6. see Excursus VI., pa. 189. [433]Ver. 5. Giant shades. See Exc. VI., pa. 189. [434]Ver. 6. Deep Abaddon. See Exc. VI, pa. 189. [435]Ver. 7. Stretcheth out the north. See Exc. VI., pa. 189. [436]Ver. 7. Over nothing—world in space. See Exc. VI., pa. 189. [437]Ver. 7. Over nothing—world in space. See Exc. VI., pa. 189. [438]Ver. 9. He closes firm. מְאַחֵז, maketh fast. Shutting is only a secondary sense as used in Kal. Neh. 7:3; but there it more properly means holding light the gate after it is shut; the shutting being expressed by another word. The best places to determine its meaning here are 1 Kings 6:6, where it is used of the building of Solomon’s house, and 2 Chron. 9:18, where, as here, it is connected with the building of a throne. The Piel here is simply intensive of Kal. It never loses its primary sense, and therefore firmly closing, as by a ceiling or a bar, would be better than Delitzsch’s “enshrouding,” which makes, moreover, a mere tautology of the second clause. It may be a question whether strengthening or firmly maintaining is not the sense here, rather than shutting. Thus regarded, the verse would be nearly parallel to Ps. 97:2: “Clouds and darkness are round about Him; but Justice and Truth are the establishment of his throne.” פְּנֵי כִסֵּה, the face of the throne, would be the אוּלָם, the vestibule or porch of the throne regarded as a large structure (עַל פְּנֵי הֵיכַל) as described 1 Kings 6:3. [439]Ver. 10. A Circle. This is simply phenomenal, or optical, rather. It sets forth the visible horizon, though it may be taken to represent the earth’s remotest limit. Delitzsch makes too much of it. It has nothing to do with “the conception of the ancients that the earth is surrounded by the ocean, on the other side of which the region of darkness begins.” That was an idea of the Mediterranean Greeks and Phœnicians, rather than of the desert-roving or inland Arabians. [440]Ver. 11. Heaven’s pillars rock. The word רופף, Poel of רוף, occurs only here, but it almost explains itself: yerophaphu. It expresses a rapid, vibratory, oscillating motion,—a quivering, like the Greek ῥιπὴ τοῦ ὀφθαλμοῦ, phonetically similar, but having a different etymology. The “pillars of heaven” are the high mountains that present the optical appearance of holding up the heavens, as Atlas to those who sail on the African Atlantic; whence the Greek fable. [441]Ver. 11. At His rebuke. His thunder-voice, Umbreit says admirably: “We think on the heavy sounding thunder rolling on from mountain to mountain (den dumpf von Berg zu Berg fort rollenden Donner).” So Sinai shook, Ps. 68:9; Jude. 5:4. Comp. also Ps. 104:12: “He toucheth the mountains and they smoke.” As expressive of this astonishment of nature at the presence of her Lord, see, moreover, Ps. 114:5–7: “What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou fieddest? thou Jordan that thou wast driven back? Ye mountains that ye skipped like rams, ye little hills, like lambs. Tremble thou earth (חולי) at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob.” [442]Ver. 12. He quells. Ewald, Delitzsch, and Zöckler, give רגע the opposite sense of rouses up, but the other is certainly more in accordance with the Hebrew usage (see Isaiah 51:15), as well as with the corresponding Arabic verb (to return). So in the second clause, they translate Rahab (רהכ) as a proper name, and refer it to some supposed monster of the deep. The sense of pride, threatening, rage, or strength (Ps. 90:10) which the word undoubtedly has, suits well the application to the sea, although, there is no pronoun: Smites down the threatening storm (מחץ smites it at one blow). This is the rendering of Gesenius, Umbreit, and Conant. It is too, in the more perfect harmony with the parallelism, even if we regard Rahab as the sea monster, to render רגע as Gesenius does. It would carry the idea of this mighty creature sporting in the storm, and struck down by the power that quells it. Comp. Ps. 106:9. [443]Ver. 13. The heavens fair. By this rendering, which is that of Umbreit and Conant, the parallelism is better maintained than by any other. The transition is now from the stormy sea to the serene heavens. It is first to the heavens generally, or the brilliant nightly sky with its glorious array of constellations, and secondly to one particular constellation (Serpens, or Draco), of excelling interest and beauty. This constellation, from its striking and graceful appearance, is represented as the special work of God’s hand, as the whole is of His creating, order-producing spirit (see Gen. 1:2). It is called the swift serpent (fleeing, fugitive) from its appearance of gliding among the stars and twining, as it were, around the North pole of the heavens. To one who looks at this very ancient figure, as it now shines in our northern nightly heavens, a very little imagination will call up the appearance that suggested this epithet to Job. חולל, as the Poel of חול, has the generative or parturitive sense from the primary idea of pain, travail, or struggle, and thence transferred to production generally. When applied to God’s creative efforts, if we may use the term, it seems to carry the idea of some mighty struggle with opposing forces; not literally, of course, but as indicative of the comparative greatness of the work (see Ps. 90:2; Deut. 32:18). The other rendering: wounds, pierces the Serpent (from חלל), makes an incongruous image, and drives to some far-fetched supposition like that which Delitzsch gives, namely, God’s piercing the Dragon who swallows up the sun in an eclipse (sec also his comment on ch. 3:5). The supposed parallelism, in that case, between the first and second clauses, would consist in the first mentioned serenity of the heavens, and the restoration of their light on the slaying of the sun-devouring dragon. With all respect, however, for so excellent a commentator as Delitzsch, the opinion must be expressed that this is extremely forced, besides being destructive of the exquisite harmony of the passage. It may be said, moreover, that this fable of the swallowing dragon, however it might suit the monster-loving Chinese, or Hindu imagination, is alien to the clear Shemitic mind. There is no proof of its having ever conceived any such thing. There is a difficulty in שִׁפְרָה, first clause. It cannot be the Piel (make fair), it is said, for the want of the Dagesh; but that objection is, by no means, insuperable. The gender also seems in the way, unless, as some think, ה is paragogic. This, however, may be resolved by the idea of an attraction between the verb and רוח, in ברוחו, which is in fact the more immediate agent; or it may be said to be demanded to make a more perfect parallelism withהֹלְלָה יָדוֹ in the second clause; if we may not rather regard יד itself as the subject of שפרה anticipated, as it were. By taking it, however, as a noun (the heavens are beauty), we get the same general idea, and, as some might think, more vividly expressed. There is some plausibility in the rendering “by his breath (his wind) he makes the heavens serene,” as by a clearing up after a storm. This has in its favor its agreement with the previous verse, but it would impair the connection with the second clause. Another idea may be entertained, that by the serpent here is meant the ordinary serpent described by his ever gliding away, and then the parallelism might be said to consist of a contrast between the heavens, the great works of God, and one of the lowest things on earth. The astronomical idea, however, suits best with the spirit of the whole chapter. [444]Ver. 14. The endings of His ways. The reference is to the works of nature, or rather to those of the greatest beauty and magnitude, such as are represented in the latter verses of this chapter. These phenomena, splendid as they are, are but “the ends of his ways,”—the lower ends. The great power stands back of them, or above them. It calls to mind a most impressive formula employed by the Arabian Schoolmen. Our present knowledge, or the knowledge of sense, they called makateu’ lamure מקאטע אלאמורי, the ends or off-cuttings of thing—sectiones rerum, (something, perhaps, like what Paul meant, 1 Cor. 13:9,12, by “knowing in part,” ἐκ μέρους). They compared it to the threads which stick out from the lower or wrong side of the tapestry which the great Artificer is weaving above—exitus finales, rerum (קצות) comparati cum telis quæ super jugo textorio divinæ voluntatis texuntur (see Willmet Arab. Lex. 611). Even the brilliant heavens present to us the lower side, the wrong side of the carpet, as it were, in which the figures (the ideas) are dim and confused. How gloriously, then, must they stand out above, or to the mind that sees them from the higher plane! [445]Ver. 14. A whisper word. Nature’s “still small voice,” קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה, 1 Kings 19:12. The thunder power, or literally the thunder of His power, רַעַם גְּכוּרָתוֹ is that displayed in the great creations, or creative dags (referred to in the theophanic Address, 38:4–12), when the Word went forth like “the seven thunders in the Apocalypse,” or the great days of renovation referred to in Ps. 102:27, and Isaiah 65:17: “Behold I create new Heavens, and a new earth.” Or it may refer generally to the miraculous in the history of this world, or God’s special dealings with it, in distinction from the orderly movements in the common course of things. See Excursus on Ecclesiastes 11:6, Lange Com. vol. 10. p. 150. [446]Ver. 2. Turns away. E. V. and others, “takes away my right,” conveying the idea of an unjust decision. But Job cannot mean this. In the first place, the words will not bear it. They cannot here be carried beyond the idea of turning aside, or putting off. In the second place, the charge of an unjust decision would be inconsistent with the act of swearing by God, which implies that He is the sure support of right, as well as of truth—the ground of confidence. God’s people are represented as those who swear by his name, Deut. 6:13,וּבִשְׁמוֹ תִּשַּׁבֵעַ, Isai. 65:16, “shall swear by the God of truth and justice,” בֵּאלֹהֵי אָמֵן Isai. 48:1: Ps. 63:12: “Let every one rejoice that sweareth by Him.” There is, therefore, weight in the remark that Raschi quotes from Rabbi Joshua, that “Job must have served God from love, because no one swears by the life of the king (בחיי המלך) unless he loves the king.” [447]Ver. 3. So long as. Delitzsch and Zöckler, with others, take the 3d and 4th verses as a parenthesis, and bring the force of the oath on the 5th. The reasons they give will not hold. Schlottmann goes with the old expositors, and gives substantially the rendering here adopted, which is that of E. V., Luther and Conant. For כי after verbs of swearing, see 1 Sam. 21:16; 2 Chron. 18:13. [448]Ver. 3. Eloah’s life. רוּחַ here evidently denotes something more than נְשָׁמָה in the first clause: The breath of life, in distinction from the mere respiration. Eloah’s life, the life that Eloah has given. Comp. Gen. 6:3, רוּהִי, “my spirit,” the spirit or life that I have given man. Comp. Ecclesiastes 12:7. [449]Ver. 4. Murmur. The Hebrew הגה is frequently rendered to meditate; but this is only a secondary sense. The primary idea is that of a low muttering, or murmuring voice, as when one is reading to himself. A contrast of diminution is evidently intended here, and our word murmuring, in its primary sense of a low sound (not that of complaining), is the best our language affords for its expression: shall not speak it—shall not even breathe or murmur such a thing. [450]Ver. 5. Away the thought. חָלִילָה לִּי: profanum. As used thus, it is a kind of interjection expressing the utmost abhorrence: O profane! O abomination!—proculabsit. [451]Ver. 5. I’ll not confess. אַצְדִּיק אֶתְכֶם, Admit you to be in the right. [452]Ver. 5. Latest breath. Literally, until I gasp,עַד אֶגוַע, adh eghwah, an onomatopic word. [453]Ver. 6. On the omission of conjunctions, see Note 14:2. [454]Ver. 6. My heart shall not reproach me. Renan: Mon cœur ne me reproche pas un seul de mes jours. So Delitzsch: My heart reproacheth not any one of my days. This may do if we take מ in מִיָּמָי in its partitive sense: any one of my days. But the other view which regards the expression as denoting the time how long is easier and saves a difficulty. The reader sympathizes with Job’s general vindication of himself; but the assertion that nothing to cause self-reproach had ever occurred in any single day of his life is extravagant and repelling. [455]Ver. 7. Mine accuser. Literally, one who riseth up against me—his adversary in the litigation. This idea is in the Hithpoel מתקומם, like the Greek Middle participle ὁ καταδικαζόμενος. It is not an imprecation, nor even a harsh wish, personally, except so far as it affords a vehement way of repelling the charge from himself. It simply means: if he cannot make it out, then he is the wicked man, he the unjust. [456]Ver. 8. The false man. Such a one as they would make Job to be, and such a one as he would truly be, should he make a false confession. Gesenius gives to חָנֵף the general sense of profane, impious, impure, which is almost the direct contrary of the Arabic חניף. Most of the later commentators follow this. The old rendering hypocrite, however, is almost everywhere used by E. V., and the idea of falseness of some kind, which the context generally connects with the word, gives it countenance, especially in such a place as this. It furnishes, too, a better ground of agreement with the Arabic sense of devotee, which might easily come from it, or give rise to it, by that reverse association which has great influence in language. [457]Ver. 8. That he should gain. This corresponds to the old versions, to the Syriac especially, and, in general, to the views of the older commentators. The rendering, when He cutteth off, given to the Kal יִבצָע (Delitzsch, Zöckler, Umbreit and others), is presented with great confidence; but there are to it very serious objections. 1. It makes, in fact, an intervening clause, to which, however short, the accents ought to have conformed. 2. It gives one subject (God) to two verbs, in two separate clauses, each beginning, unnecessarily, with the particle כי—a thing certainly very unusual, if not unexampled in Hebrew. The rarity of such a construction seems admitted in the fact that Delitzsch can only cite two cases: Job 20:19; Neh. 3:20. But a careful examination of those places shows very essential differences, rendering them quite inapplicable here In both, the verbs are preterites and follow each other immediately in the same clause. What is still more important, in each example the first verb is evidently used as adverbially qualiflcaiive of the other. Thus 20:19, רִצֵץ עָזַב, “he hath crushed, he hath forsaken the poor:” he hath cruelly forsaken after crushing, or in crushing. The two make one complex act, the first heightening the effect of the other. The example, Neh. 3:20, is still more clear. It is a graphic picture of the builders of the walls of Jerusalem, each one earnestly engaged in his separate work: “After him Bazuk, the son of Zabbai, הֶחֱרָה הֶחֱזִיק, he was zealous, he strengthened;” that is, he zealously strengthened; as in other cases where one verb is qualificative of another. 3. It would make a feeble repetition, besides changing the figure: “cut off—draw out his soul.” 4. It destroys the parallelism, as it breaks the clauses. The other view is very easy and natural, besides most perfectly preserving the parallelism and the harmony of contrasted ideas. It is certain that בצע in Kal has this sense of gaining, gathering wealth, though coming from the sense of seizing, plundering, in a word, of rapine (rapuit); that, too, derived fiom the still more primary sense of cutting. The pure primary sense, however, is quite rare, and is mainly confined to the Piel, though even there the sense of rapine is predominant. The idea of gaining wealth by violent means is the most common, especially in Kal, and as it appears in the noun בֶצַע, which comes to mean gain acquired in any way. In Job 6:9, we have the Piel with the tense of carrying or taking away. Had it been Piel here, it would have been more favorable to the view of Delitzsch; and it is not easy to see why, if such had been the intended meaning, there should have been used another form more commonly associated with the other idea. Raschi gives the same idea as we have in E. V. He renders it by גָּזַל to plunder (when he hath plundered). This, too, has the primary sense of excision, and gives the same play of words, or rather of ideas, which is one of the elements of the parallelism: the rapine of the wicked man (his evil gain) and his own raptus or carrying off, when death makes a prey of him. Dr. Conant aims at preserving this in his translation, whilst preserving also the old idea. The rendering above given calls up the picture drawn by our Saviour, Luke 12:20, of the rich man congratulating himself upon his gains at the very time when his soul is required of him, or literally when they demand back his soul (ἀπαιτοῦσι); “then whose shall those things be,” etc. The rendering which this demands for the first כי is certainly its most usual and natural one before a future:תקוה כי יבצע,“hope that he shall gain,” or may gain. In the next clause, where this connection ceases, it has the other and very frequent rendering; of when, which is both temporal and causal. There is no difficulty about this. כי connects as motive, as reason, or as occasion: that—for or because—when. All these uses come from its original pronominal sense, and are analogous to the two senses of ὅτι in Greek (that and because), and to the closely allied ὅτε (when), all of which flow out of the pronoun like the double sense of quod in Latin (that and because, also quum when, neuter of old form quus for qui), and the similar double use of that in English. [458] Ver. 8. Re-demand. Great difficulty is found with יֵשֶׁל, which cannot be made, grammatically, from נשׁל, nor from שׁלל, whilst the attempt to derive it from שׁלה fails to give any suitable sense, unless we borrow it from a similar Arabic verb, as Gesenius and others do for this occasion. They would thus render it draws out his soul, as from the body its sheath—a conception having little warrant in the Hebrew psychology, and only a seeming one—as connected with a totally different word—in the Chaldaic of Daniel 7:15. If, however, the Arabic is to be resorted to, then is there a very strong warrant for Schnurrer’s view, which Gesenius says “is not to be contemned.” Regarding it as pure Hebrew in sense and etymology, he would treat it as taking a form prevailing in the corresponding Arabic word. Thus it would be from שׁאל, to ask, demand, or יֵשֶׁל abbreviated for יִשְׁאַל with a falling out of the weak א, and the vowel of the preformative lengthened by the usual law of compensation. In Arabic the abbreviation comes from the trite use of the word. The same reason would have force in the Hebrew, and is, moreover, strengthened by the fact of cases where this weak א is actually lost in the derivative noun, as in שֵׁלָה for שְׁאֵלָה, 1 Sam. 1:17. Such a rendering, demands or re-demands (ἀπαιτεῖ), would make perfect the parallelism which is felt to exist between this and Luke 12:20, before cited: τὴν ψυχήν σου ἀπαιτοῦσι “they will demand thy soul of thee;” although there, instead of God, the subject is plural—the evil agents whom He permits to carry away the avaricious man’s soul. Merx is often very extravagant in his treatment of the text; but here he keeps the usual rending, and is very happy in his rendering, especially of this second clause: Was hat der Lästrer denn zu hoffen, wenn er raubt, Und wenn sein Leben durch den Fluch gefordert wird? [459]Ver. 10. Is he the man? The rendering in the future (E. V.), “will he delight himself?” instead of the indefinite present, mars the force of the passage as descriptive of character. Job contrasts such a man and his probable doings with his own well known religious life. It is not to boast of it, but to repel the idea of his being such an evildoer as their charges would make him. They had no proof of them, and, therefore, they were bound to take his character for piety, so well known throughout the East, as evidence that he could not be guilty of such sins. His life of prayer was opposed to it, especially what is recorded, 1:5, of his continual supplications, and his offering of sacrifice for his children when exposed to temptation in their hours of feasting. “How does this suit the man you have repeatedly described? Will he take delight in the Almighty? Will he be earnest and constant in prayer?” [460]Ver. 11. His dealings. Literally, “the things that are with the Almighty.” His peculiar dealings. The preposition עם has been several times used to denote some special atttribute or way. Comp. 12:16: “With Him is strength and wisdom;” 15:9; 23:14: “Many such things are with Him.” Job takes high ground here. He not only repels their charges, but assumes the position of their instructor. He has a wider experience than they possess, both of the ways of God and the ways of men. On the consistency of what follows as compared with former speeches of Job, see Excursus III. of the Addenda, pa. 183. [461]Ver. 12. Ye all have seen the sight. This language, as Delitzsch well observes, is of the highest importance in the interpretation of the rest of the chapter. You have seen the man, he says, as you have described him, and as I am about to describe him. You profess to be familiar with the case. Am I like him? Does my life, known to you, known to the world, carry those marks of the רָשָׁע that you are fond of setting forth? If not; if ye have no proof of any such thing, what utter falseness and absurdity in the application ye so repeatedly make of it to my case! [462]Ver. 13, Literally with God, עִם אֵל: in the course of His dealings. See Note 15, ver. 11. [463]Ver. 15. Buried in death. Unnecessary trouble has been given by this phrase, an here occurring. Böttcher, quoted by Delitzsch, regards מָוֶת here as denoting pestilence, as it seems to do, Jer. 15:2; 18:21; and so Delitzsch himself takes it, whom Zöckler follows. Olshausen and De Wette would draw back the negative from the second clause, or supply it here by way of correction: not buried, that is, left unburied in death. May it not be simply a kind of summing up: They are slain by the sword, by famine, etc., and these miserable remnants that escape such violent ends are all somehow buried in death, whatever may be the manner of it. [464]Ver. 15. His widows, etc. The same Ps. 78:64. [465]Ver. 16. Like the dust—like the clay—comparisons, not of quality, but of quantity merely. [466]Ver. 18. Like the moth. Not as the moth builds, but frail as the moth—same comparison 4:19. The watchers’ booth. A transient, temporary hut for the watchman of the vineyard. See Isai. 1:8. [467]Ver. 19. Rich lies he down. Not the rich man; for that would seem to denote another character introduced. עָשִׁיר is not a new subject, but a descriptive epithet. [468]Ver. 19. Never to sleep again. In order to get the rendering there must be a different pointing יאסף, making it יֹאסִף (= יוֹסִיף) instead of יֵאָסֵף, out of which it is difficult to get any meaning. Literally, then, it would be: he lies down, and adds not,” that is, never does it again. This is adopted now by the best commentators,and the chief authority for it is the LXX. version: οὐ προσθήσει, which, in such a case, is good testimony for the supposed ancient vowel reading to which it corresponds, however little its authority, in general as a translation. The far more accurate Syriac translation here has alsoולא נוסף למקם, and he shall not again arise, being sufficiently variant from the LXX. to show that it was independent of it. Like the images in the next clause, and in the next verse, the whole language denotes his sudden taking off. [469] Ver. 19. Once opens he the eye. One glance, one look, and he is gose. Or as Renan gives it: Il s’est endormi opulent; mais c’est pour la derniere-fois! Il ouvre les yeux, il n’est plus. [470] Ver. 20. Terrors o’ertake him. The image of a pursuit and capture; “terrors catch him.” It is like the Greek idea of the chase of the Furies. æsch. Eumenides, 130, 140,— —λάβε, λάβε, λάβε, λάβε— Ἐγειρ’, ἔγειρε καὶ σὺ τήνδ’, ἐγὼ δὲ σέ. Steals him in the night away. Comp. 36:20. [471]Ver. 21. Tornado like. The Hebrew word is a very strong one, and the Piel form adds greatly to its intensity. It gets its verbal sense here from the noun שְׂעָרָה. Literally, it storms, or hurricanes him. Comp. Dan. 11:40, and the cognate סער, Hab. 3:14. [472]Ver. 22. (His bolt). God is doubtless the subject of the verb וישלך. The near or direct object is unexpressed, because, so easily implied in such a connection, like βέλος in Greek. It is the thunderbolt which Greeks and Latins, as well as the Hebrews, regarded as the peculiar weapon of the supreme Deity. Comp. 36:32, 33: “His thunder tells of Him.” [473] Ver. 23. At sight of his abode. Literally, from his place. But the translation of E. V., which is nearly that of Ewald, Delitzsch, and Zöckler, may give a wrong idea: Hiss him out of his place, as though that were a means of driving him away from his place. But this had been already done by the tempest and by God’s bolt. מִמְּקוֹמוֹ can, therefore, only denote the position of the hisser. When men come to the place where he once lived, they hiss in scorn. It might be given in English by changing the order: from his place they hiss. This, however, being liable to ambiguity, the translator has adopted the fuller rendering of the Vulgate: et sibilabit super illum intuens locum ejus. The Hebrew is secure from ambiguity by reason of the preposition in עַלֵימוֹ (hiss at him), which translators seem strangely to have neglected. It is not likely that Job meant this as a general description of the wicked man’s doom, any more than he intended some, or any, of his seemingly opposite pictures, for universal application. It has the look of being a marked case of sudden and overwhelming downfall, which he had himself known of, and which was probably notorious to the friends, as we may gather from his language 5:12: Behold ye all have seen the sight. It had made a great impression upon all minds as a striking example of both Divine and popular vengeance. Job shows by it that his experience, in such matters, was not limited, and that, after all, there was a substantial agreement in their views, although he denounces their application to himself as utter vanity, ver. 12. [474]Ver. 1. Yes, truly. A musing pause is to be supposed between this and the abrupt end of the previous chapter. The probable cause of such unexpressed thinking, very rapid it may be, is attempted to be traced in Excursus V., pa. 186, which see. The particle כִּי is the connecting confirmation of the passing thought or emotion (taking form) which makes the transition, and with which the speaker breaks silence, as one who had been thinking aloud, as it were, or as though it were something known to those with whom he speaks, or which, they would immediately apprehend. [475]Ver. 2. The molten ore. More literally, the ore molten becomes copper. [476]Ver. 3. Man. In the Hebrew the verb has only the pronominal subject: He puts an end. Most commentators, however, regard man as the subject, and the context forces to it. [477]Ver. 3. Setting bounds. Literally, puts an end, that is, he throws the dark border farther and farther back, extends the horizon of knowledge. The imagery suggests that of 26:10. [478]Ver. 3. Unto the end. תַּכְלִית taken adverbially. The rendering is that of Dr. Conant. [479]Ver. 3 Searcheth. (חוֹקֵר), or, is the explorer, taken as a noun. This shows that man is the subject above, as it would not be in harmony with the idea of God. The participle is to he carried all through the verses following, and should be expressed where there is no specifying verb. It is not adding to the translation, but a filling up; whether the singular or the plural number be required. [480]Ver. 3. Stones of darkness, etc.: אֶבֶן, taken collectively. The ores hidden in the earth, and conceived as lying near Tzalmaveth or the confines of the underworld (the terra umbrarum). [481] Ver. 4. Settler’s. The word is a modern one, and yet seems to give the idea here. גָּר is rendered inhabitant, but it means rather a resident, a dweller merely, as distinguished from a born native. גֵּר is rendered stranger pilgrim, one away from home; but in fact the two words are nearly the same. One of them is used to define the other, as in Leviticus 17:12, הַגֵּר הַגָּר בְּתוֹכְכֶם, “the stranger that sojourneth in the midst of you.” The idea here, as colored by the context, seems to be that of one dwelling in a remote region, the last inhabitant, in fact, on the very frontier of this wild mining district. If so our word pioneer, or settler would covey just that idea of remoteness required, and the double preposition, מֵעִם, would intensify the meaning (from with, from his society, to the desert wild). From this last border of civilization they go, letting themselves down the precipices, lost to the beaten road, and far away in the trackless solitude. The description, though very abrupt and concise, suggests almost literally the similar language with which Æschylus describes the wild Caucasian region. Χθονὸς μὲν είς τηλουρὸν ἥκομεν πἐδον, Σκύθην ἐς οἶμον ἄβατον εὶς ἐρημίαν. —πρὸς πέραις ὑψηλοκρήμνοις— τῷδ’ ἀπανθρώπῳ πάγῳ. “A frontier land—an untrodden desert—high beetling rocks—a craggy region far from human haunts.” On the words פָּרַץ and נַחַל, and the differing interpretations given to them, see Excursus VIII., pa. 199. [482]Ver. 4. Forgotten of the foot. רֶגֶל denotes here a well trodden, well-known way. To this they are lost, if we may take the Niphal participle deponently; but the literal passive is far more poetical. Instead of their having lost their way, or wandered from it, the way itself is personified as having forgotten them. It is in accordance with such expressions as we have, Job 7:10; Ps. 103:16; “the place thereof knoweth it no more.” [483]Ver. 4. They let them down (themselves down), by ropes, or other means from the precipices: דַּלְיוּ=דַּלּוּ. On this see Excursus VIII., pa. 199. [484]Ver. 5. Seems turned to fire. See Excursus VIII., pa. 199. [485]Ver. 6. Place of sapphires; near this region of fire or affected by it. There may be here, perhaps, some Idea of sapphires and other precious stones being the product of fire,—pyritic, pyrogenous; or, in some way, of a fiery formation. See Exc. VIII., pa, 201. [486]Ver. 7. A path. The place where or whither, for all these researches preceding it; or it may be confined to what follows, to the 12th verse. Or it may denote, generally, the scene of every thing narrated or described from the נחל, the entering valley, wady, or ravine, ver. 4. Such a view would be conclusive against the idea of its meaning the narrow shaft of a mine. The eagle’s glance, the vulture’s eye, the wild beast’ tread, suggest something more than this. They give the thought of deep and dark places on the earth, difficult of access, indeed, but foreign to the idea of channels sunk under the earth. נָתִיב, a word of place, used as נַחַל is used, ver. 4, מָקוֹם ver. 6, and אֶרֶץ, ver. 5, “above.” [487]Ver. 8. Roaring Schachal. There are so many different names for lion in Hebrew, and especially in the book of Job, that it was thought best to transfer this, as has been done also 4:10. The sense of roaring, which Gesenius gives, is adopted, although founded on slender authority, from the Arabic. Still less satisfactory, however, is the other view, which would regard שַׁחַל as equal to שׁחר, with a change of ר into ל, thus making it to mean black lion. [488]Ver. 9. Granite. חַלָּמִישׁ rendered flint, Ps. 114:8.—The hardest kind of rock; see Deut. 8:15; 32:13. [489]Ver. 9. Overturns. On הָפַך as here used and as compared with Niphal, ver.5, see Exc. VIII. pa. 201. [490]Ver. 11 The streams. The word נְהָרוֹת is ever used of the larger kind of streams, and often of the mightiest rivers. It never denotes a mere vein, or trickling flow in the rocks, unless the sense be manufactured for it just to suit the supposed exigency of this place, as Gesenius seems to do. The word alone is sufficient to show that the operations here described, from ver. 4 to 12, cannot be confined to so narrow a place as the artificial shaft of a mine. Though mining explorations do certainly form a chief part, yet the language gives rather the idea of extended wilds, precipices, inaccessible places, where they are carried on. What is said about the birds and the wild beasts shows this. The reference here, then, would rather be to the damming of large streams, so as to leave their channel dry for “prospecting” to use an Americanism. The poetical expression weeping, would have all its force when applied to the percolations from dams, as well as to the oozings from the rocky veins. [491]Ver. 12. Clear intelligence. Our word understanding is hardly the right one here. It is too vague, and taken in too many different senses. The German Einsichi carries with it too much of the idea of mere sagacity, skill, as belonging mainly to natural knowledge, or the discernment of natural causalities. The true sense of בִּניָה, here, must correspond to that of חָכְמָה. Whatever that may be, as absolute truth, בִּינָה is the power of discerning it, the higher vision of the higher truth. Zöckler makes the distinction to be between “wisdom in its practical aspect חָכְמָה, and its theoretical,” בִּינָה; but that tells us nothing. If the חָכְמָה here set forth is above us, so is the בִּינָה; though something is gained when we understand that they differ as truth, and the faculty or power of discerning that truth. It is something which man has not in this life, as is most clearly expressed in the next verse. It is, however, an intelligence clear, unmistakable, not admitting the least doubt. The pronoun זֶה here, is simply emphatic; to render it by our demonstrative would overload the sense. [492]Ver. 13. Among the living. Lit.: in the land of the living. This wisdom is unknown to men in this life. No declaration can be clearer, and it is one of the utmost importance in the interpretation of this wonderful chapter. It is confirmed in ver. 21, hidden from the eyes of all living,—of all living in the present state. In the other world, or in Death and Abaddon, as distinguished from “the land of the living,” there first begins to be heard a rumor, a whisper of it. Whatever may be that state of being, it is then that the great secret of God, the great end for which He made the world and man, begins to disclose itself. Something is learned about it after death, which no amount of natural knowledge, or of human science, can give us here; whether it be the science of Bildad, or of Ptolemy, or of Laplace, or of a thousand years hence. Such merely natural knowledge never has, it never it will, shed one single ray of light on the great question of questions. The utmost knowledge of the physical world can only give us the how; and even there, in is own natural department, the darkness and the mystery grow faster than any light it sheds. Nature itself is growing darker the more we study it. It presents more unsolved and unsolvable problems now than in the days of Pythagoras. Its study can never give as the διὰ τί, the why, the reason of nature itself. So Natural Theology may discover adaptations, designs termnating in nature, and that without end, but never the design of those designs. And that, perhaps, is the reason why what we call by that name has so little place in the Bible. For we are still in nature. It cannot take us out of it to the wisdom above, or to the world beyond, or to that remoter end to which the physical is only a means, and without which, or in the ignoring of which, it has neither a rational nor a moral value. Nature is but subordinate to a higher supernatural world. Science without this idea is leading us to atheism. It is darkening all minds except those who have, in some way, been taught, as from a higher plane, the solemn lesson conveyed in the close of this chapter, that the fear of God, faith in Him, and in His goodness, whether we can see it in nature or not, is, for man, his highest, and, in a comparative sense, his only wisdom. [493]Ver. 14. The deep saith. The Deep and the sea represent the physical world. They are put for its more unexplored recesses. It is a confirmation of the thought dwelt upon above. There could not be a more express way of saying: this great wisdom of God is not revealed in he physical world. The broad face of nature, its immensity, even its unsearchableness, proclaim His glory. His greatness, the existence of something immensely above man, and all conceivable being (see Ps. 19:1; Rom. 1:20), but it reveals not the great secret of moral destinies; it answers not the question: “where shall wisdom be found?” [494]Ver. 14. It dwelleth not. The second clause goes beyond the first. It has the asserting negative particle אֵין giving a stronger emphasis to the declaration, and also the more Intimate preposition עִמָּדִי—it is not with me—no where with me. [495]Ver. 15. Treasured gold; so rendered from the etymological sense of סְגוֹר, something shut up, kept secure as very precious. The chief difficulty in rendering this splendid passage, arises from the number of names for gold. In respect to the other precious things, absolute correctness is not required to give the impression of great and incomparable value. Unless, however, we can get reliable diversities for these different names for gold, it is difficult to avoid tautologies, with their weakening effect, such as we know could not have been in the original. Gold is mentioned, in some way, four times. In our E. V. it is first simply gold, (ver. 15 סְגוֹר). Next, ver. 16, we have what is, rendered “gold of Ophir,” or aurum pretiosum, as Gesenius very vaguely gives it. Etymologically it would be stamp of Ophir (כֶּתֶם אוֹפִיר, from a verb = כתב, and meaning to mark, cut, etc.). Hence the translator has rendered it bars of Ophir, or Ophir bars, as denoting gold uncoined, too precious for numismatical purposes,—bars with their value marked upon them. In ver. 17 there is a compound expression, זָהָב וּזְכוּכִית, rendered by E. V. gold and crystals, but by most commentators, and more correctly, perhaps, gold and glass. The difficulty with this, however, is two-fold: We have gold again unqualified which looks like a coming down, and joined with it a substance, which, however rare and precious it may have been in early times, is now very common. If it be gold and glass, it must be some combination of the two, such as aurated glass, or crystalline (glacial) gold, expressing something once esteemed very rare and precious, but now unknown. The translator has here followed Pareau, who renders it vitrum auratum, or vitrum auro ornatum, and makes a very good argument for the existence and preciousness of such an article. Transparent gold was thought of; but the other rendering appeared less hazardous. In verse 19, we have again the word כֶּתֶם (mark, stamp) as a name for gold, but joined with טָהוֹר the pure, the unmixed. Hence it was taken as a superlative expression, denoting the very highest degree of purity—gold in its עֶצֶם, or essence—gold without a particle of alloy of any kind, like the χρυσίον πεπυρωμένον of Rev. 3:18,—the purest and most precious metallic substance, as a type of the spiritual wealth. For the most elaborate and satisfactory dissertation on the precious things mentioned in this chapter, there is recommended to the reader the work of Pareau, De Immortalitatis ac Vitæ Futuræ Notitis ab Antiquissimo Jobi Scriptore adhibitis. The latter half of the volume (pa. 229–367) is occupied with an exhaustive analysis of this remarkable chapter. According to the view taken, the fourth mention of gold, at the close of the long comparison, ver. 19th, is simply a confession that no conceivable earthly value makes even an approach to the worth of wisdom. [496]Ver. 15. Massive silver. Silver being more common than gold, quantity enters the more into the estimate of its value. The epithet massive, therefore, only gives the emphasis implied in יִשָּׁקֵל the verb of weighing. [497]Ver. 21, Birds (that gaze). They are taken as the symbol of the keenest intelligence, as they actually exhibit the highest perfection of mere sense vision, aided by the vast height to which some of them, especially birds of prey, as before mentioned ver. 7, rise in the air. The words in brackets only give the clearly implied idea. Umbreit here, under a show of learning, utters a great deal of absurdity: “In the East,” he says, “a deep knowledge and an extraordinary power of divination was ascribed to birds. They were regarded as intrusted with the interpretation of the Divine will. We are only to call to mind the personification of the good spirits of Ormuzd through the birds, as we find it in the Persian religion, or think of Simurg, the primeval king of the birds, who represented the highest wisdom, and who dwelt on the mountain Kaf, or of the bird language as set forth by Feridedd in Attar, the great mystical poet of the Persians, etc., etc.” This is all rationalistic nonsense, or “the higher criticism” run mad. Such an Idea of the birds’ intimacy with the gods, in consequence of their apparent nearness to heaven, (towards which they seem to soar), very probably entered into all old systems of bird divination, whether in the East or in the West; but there is not the least trace of it in the Bible, and it has left no mark on the Shemitic languages, like οίωνός (bird omen) in Greek, or auspicium (aves specio) in Latin. Especially preposterous is this idea of umbreit when viewed in relation to a theism so reverentially pure, as to make a pious man like Job actually Jealous of the effect of the heavenly bodies, “the sun in its brightness, the moon walking in glory” (31:26), lest it might detract from what is due to “Him who setteth His glory above the heavens.” There is no doubt, too, that im Morgenlande, or in some parts of it, there was a superstitious regard to precious stones. Certain gems were regarded as having magical or diving properties; and Umbreit might just as well have made the same remark (Man denke nur an) in respect to Job’s use of these in his comparisons of the value of Wisdom. The meaning, too, of the bird comparison is so obvious. The keenest sense vision, Job means to affirm, cannot discover it. What is this but saying that its perception does not belong to the sense world at all, even though sought by the keenest and most microscopic science, but to the sphere of things “unseen and eternal”—that world of supersensual being which “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, (unless it be an ear that hath passed beyond the bounds of mortality, see ver. 22) nor hath it ever ascended in the heart of man” to conceive. [498]Ver, 22. Death and Abaddon. Compare this with the 2d clause of ver. 13, and also with remarks on that verse in note 19. The language implies a bare whisper in respect to this ineffable wisdom,—a rumor, something said about it, and which first reaches the soul in that land beyond death, whether it be the region of the rest secure in Hades, or of the irrecoverably lost in Abaddon, “the bottomless pit,” Rev. 9:2. [499]Ver. 25. The wind its weight: The air (as רוּחַ night be rendered) its gravity. The sublimity of Job is only lessened by studied attempts to find in it any of our modern scientific conceptions; but this is evidently selected from other parts of creation, as furnishing a wonder. The lightest of these known substances, or rather one which, to the common mind, was altogether imponderable, has a true weight assigned to it by God. Our Saviour speaks of this popular mysteriousness of the wind, John 3:8, but He was comparing it with the higher mystery of the Spirit named after it in the necessary analogies of language. As a physical fact, however, the gravity of the wind, or air, needed no formal scientific teaching to bring it under the notice of that contemplative mind which regarded the earth (26:7) as resting in space, supported only “by the everlasting arms.” [500]Ver. 26. A law (הֹק) for the rain. Comp. 38:33; the laws of the heavens, Jerem. 33:25; the laws of the heavens and the earth; Jerem. 31:35; the laws of the moon and stars חֻקֹּת יָרֵחַ וְבוֹכַבִים. The “law of the rain” here, according to Zöckler, is simply the determining “when and how often it shall rain, and when it shall cease.” We cannot help regarding this as an inadequate view of the language. Why should not the term be taken in a sense as high and as profound as any we attach to the modern term law of nature, as used by scientific men, or any others? The idea of law in nature is a different thing from a knowledge of the details of that law as they may be expressed in numbers, or in mathematical formulas. Law in nature, as an idea, may be defined to be regulated sequence with a uniform, and uniformly expected, recurrence, and this connected with the thought of a real nexus of causality distinct from the bare fact-conception of antecedence and consequence. The ancient mind had this. The Greek mind had it clear and distinct. Never has it been better defined than by Socrates when he speaks of it as “the harmony, the law, that holds together heaven and earth, and makes the universe a κόσμος instead of ἀκοσμία (see Plat. Gorg. 508, A.) The Hebrew mind had it, as represented by David when he said (Ps. 119:89, 91): “All things stand according to Thine ordinance,” “Thy word forever fixed in Heaven.” The most important part of the idea, in fact, namely, that of a necessary inherent causality in distinction from the mere fact of sequence, some of our modern savans, and philosophers, have wholly discarded. They pride themselves in knowing a few more of the steps of causal fact, though but an infinitesimal part of the immeasurable road, but this, in fact, has a less intimate connection with the essential idea than the part which they have rejected as unknowable and therefore unreal. On the “Bible idea of Law in Nature,” see remarks. Special Introduction to the First chapter of Genesis, Lange series, Vol. I, page 143. In this passage, there is no reason for doubting that, to a mind so contemplative as that of Job, to say nothing of asy guiding inspiration, the thought, though formally undefined, was present in all its inherent power. It was not arbitrary; it was not mere sequence; he knew that there was “a law for the rain” extending to every link in its physical production. As respects the knowledge of the number of those links, he was a few inches behind a modern savan, but to the inherent causation the latter is no nearer,—he may, in fact, be farther from it,—than Job himself. [501]Ver. 26. A way. Here, too, Zöckler’s conception seems inadequate. He rende s דֶּרֶך, a way, a path, ein Bahn, which would do very well, were it not for his comment, namlich durch die Wolken, through the clouds. Poetically this is expressive, and is favored by the context 38:25, where the whole language is intended to be in the highest degree phenomenal. But here the train of contemplation which is produced by this description of the ineffable Wisdom seems to demand something more than the mere conception of a passage through the clouds. As חֹּק decree (primarily mark, line, terminus) may be taken for the inward law or idea, so דֶּרֶךְ suggests, not so much the space way, or direction, as the phenomenal order of causalities. In this sense it is yet a way to science. More and more facts, or links, are constantly making themselves known, but they are only additional steps in the way of which Job speaks. This is not ascribing to Job any measure of what would be called science, or philosophy. It is a distinction belonging to the common thinking, to every contemplative mind in all ages. There is another scriptural term for law in nature which goes deeper than all. It is the word בְּרִית (covenant) as applied to nature; as in Jerem. 33:20, “My covenant of the day and my covenant of the night,” the established order of time, of the seasons, of nature’s courses. It is God’s covenant with His rational beings, that they may trust nature, with its order of sequences established by Him for their moral benefit, or for ends higher than nature itself. It is appealed to as a kind of oath, confirming the constancy of His moral and spiritual purposes by the constancy He has established in the physical world: “If ye can annul My covenant of the day and of the night (see Gen. 1:14, 15; 8:22; 9:12-17) then may ye annul my covenant with David”: The great promise of the Messiah and of His eternal kingdom, confirmed, as it is, by an oath, having for its pledge the constancy of nature. Here is a higher constancy. Here is an order of things in respect to which the dictum of the naturalist, asserting invariability, holds true. The moral and spiritual system can admit of no breaks, no suspensions or deviations in its eternal laws. For it all lower law was made. [502] Ver. 27. He saw, רָאָה. There is a Masoretic note indicating another reading with Mappik רָאָהּ, he saw it, which Zöckler adopts. It would seem a plausible emendation, until we think of the resemblance here suggested to the 1 of Genesis, the repeated declaration as made with this same verb Without a pronoun, וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים, and God saw, Gen. 1, vers. 3, 10, 12, etc., and especially the closing one ver. 31, “And God saw all that He had made and lo it was good, very good.” The word וַיְסַפְּרָהּ here: and He declared it, suggests the same great announcement, and, therefore, the translator has ventured to add the word in brackets. It might, however, be regarded as actually contained in the verb itself, which has the sense of praising, celebrating, as in Ps. 19:1, where the response to Gen. 1:31 seems sent back: “the heavens are telling (מספרים) the glory of God”—the greatness and goodness of Him who pronounced them good, His glorious handiwork. The pronoun in וַיְסַפְּרָהּ must refer grammatically to חכמה, the ineffable Wisdom, but the more immediate reference must be taken as being made to these works of Wisdom, or the creation as its outward phenomenal representative. But the whole chapter is involved in a contradiction, unless a distinction is made between such manifestation of its effects, and the eternal Wisdom itself. Of this it cannot be said, thut sie kund, as Zöckler. and Umbreit translate, or erzählte sie, as others render it. The phenemenal representation (and so in some sense the thing itself as an ineffable fact) is made known narrated, reported, but not so can it be said of the Wisdom itself, whose place is here so earnestly inquired after as something hidden from all the living, and of which the afterworld and underworld have barely heard a rumored whisper. Neither can Wisdom here be the Divine architectural skill in the construction of the world. It is not the wisdom shown in the adaptation of natural means to natural ends, such as that which forms the subject of natural science, and even of natural theology. It is not nature, or Gods great skill in nature itself, or in utilitarian happiness-producing final causes, as they are called, but the great ineffable reason why nature, why man, why the world at all, was ever made. If it were natural knowledge, then it might be said that men like Newton, Laplace, and Faraday, made some advance in it, though infinitely small in comparison with the vast unknown. If it were any speculation about ideas, and an ideal world, then Pythagoras, and Plato, and Cudworth, might claim some standing there. But every thing of this kind is shut out in the most express terms. It is not a priori knowledge, or any rudiments of such knowledge, through which we may laudably inquire, though to a very feeble extent, how God made the worlds? It is not in nature at all, whether viewed a priori or inductively, and, therefore, through nature can it never be revealed. The deep saith—not in me; The sea—it dweileth not with me. These are evidently put for nature’s most unexplored and inaccessible departments. Although, therefore, we cannot affirm what it is, or go beyond the fact of a mystery, ineffable, yet having a most intimate practical relation to the human moral destiny, yet this may be said, and every one who believes God’s Word should fearlessly assert it, that the humblest Christian, the most ignorant man, who has in his soul a true reverence for God, and a true hatred of sin, is nearer to this great secret of the Universe, even in the present life, than the proudest philosopher, the proudest man of science, who neither knows nor prizes such a state of soul. [503]Ver. 27 And built it firm, הֱכִינָהּ. Here, too, the objective pronoun must be taken as referring to the phenomenal creation, though grammatically related to the Wisdom which it represents, or rather, for which it was made, (τὰ πάντα δἰ αὐτοῦ, καί εἰς αὐτὸν ἔκτισται—καί τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκε, Coloss. 1:16, 17). Zöckler interprets הֵכִינָהּ, and especially יספרה, above, as an “evolution of the everlasting Wisdom, or an unfolding of its contents before men and other rational beings, the whole creation being nothing else than much an Entfaltung and display of its adaptedness” (Vergeschichtlichung). Bat this certainly makes it, after all, only a knowledge of God in nature, or of His ways in nature, and seems to contradict the idea so expressly set forth in other verses of its being utterly unknown to men in the present life. It moreover buries all in nature, and leaves no moral end or moral world wholly above it,—the great heresy, and the source of all the irreligious positions of our modern science. There is found in a few manuscripts the reading הֱבִינָהּ, he understood it. It seems strange that it should have been adopted by Ewald, as it makes a barren repetition of what is said in ver. 23, besides being out of place in its relation to what follows. There is, moreover, lost by such a reading, another striking suggestion of the creative account. The supposition that this was known to Job traditionally or otherwise, and that there was some degree of familiarity even with its language, derives strong support from the Divine address 38:4,13, where the resemblances are unmistakable. Here הכינה calls to mind the assertion וַיְהִי־כֵן repeated after every going forth of the Word. Each originates a new movement in the ascending scale of things, and then this formula is used (Imperfectly rendered and it was so), as though merely giving the narrator’s assurance that it actually took place. Even if we render כֵּן as an adverb, so, it does not lose its participle sense of firmness establishment, fixedness,—it was so, and it continued so,—became כֵּן, fixed, established,—in other words, became a nature to remain such until suspended as God might see fit, or finally revoked when the great end for which nature was constituted, or the great Wisdom of God might, perhaps, dispense with nature altogether. So here the same root is used: הכינה He fixed it—built it firm. The language loses none of its strength or sublimity by being thus anthropopathically, rendered. He made it to stand till its end was answered. [504]Ver. 27. Its testings. We certainly cannot render חקר here, as we would when used of man, as in ver. 3, or as E. V. has given it, and many others: He searched it out. It would not be applicable either to the creation, as the work, nor to the Wisdom as the pattern, unless taken anthropopathically, not in the sense of discovering the unknown, but of testing the work, or the model, when made. There is something of this kind of representation in the creation account itself. It is an emphatic mode of conveying to the finite mind a sense of its excellence and perfection. God appoints the heavenly bodies as denoters, among other things, of times and seasons. He is represented as trying them, putting them in the Heavens for that purpose. What right-feeling and right-thinking mind would lose the sublimity of all this for any assurance of scientific accuracy, which, after all, in no accuracy, for science is never finished. Again, God looks at the whole, as the maker would survey his machine after he has set it in motion, and pronounces it admirable, שוֹב מְאֹד, καλὰ λίαν, valde bona—good— Very good. We would not think of charging Plato with anthropopathism, when in a similar way he represents (Timæus 37,c) the great ζωον, with its animal life, or plastic nature, as the subject of admiration to the “Generating Father,” Πατήρ ὁ γεννή. σας, when he sees it move on in all its harmony and perfection. So God is said here to test, or try, the world He had made to see if it answered that great supra-mundane end which is here called, Wisdom, transcending all Plato’s ideas as much as it transcends our limited inductive science. [505]Ver. 28. Unto man. Some would render לָאָדָם of man: So Pareau, de hommine, concerning man. The direct address, however, is the more common for the preposition ל. The other may be regarded as implied, and either view would justify the possessive pronoun placed in brackets. It is a special Wisdom for man, leading, at some time, to some glimpse of the great Wisdom. The distinction in demanded by the whole spirit of the chapter [506]Ver. 1. Then again, ויסף. It certainly seems to indicate a pause of some kind; being said, not after the words of another, but in the course of Job’s own speaking. It may have been a waiting for the friends to resume their argument. There is, however, no contradiction between the close of the 28, and the opening of the 29. The under-current of thought can be easily traced, and yet the difference in style between this and the resumption demands the idea of some intervening silence, aside from this expression in the caption. In the 28 Job’s thought of God’s ineffable wisdom came from the contemplation of his own mysterious sufferings, bringing him to the grand conclusion that it is man’s wisdom to believe and adore where he cannot understand, This high train of thought carries him, for a season; out of and above himself. Such a pitch, however, cannot be sustained, and so he comes down again to his own sorrows, his ever smarting pains, and that leads to the contemplation of former happiness which that same unsearchable wisdom had so bountifully conferred upon him. This is far from being an unnatural transition, although it is emotional rather than logical. It may be said, too, that the s escent, if we may call it such, is all the more pathetic as thus succeeding a medication so glorious and profound. [507]Ver. 3. When shone his lamp. Lit.: In its shining of his lamp. The first suffix pronoun does not refer to God, at though the verb had a Hiphil sense: in His making to shine. Neither is it to be taken as Delitzsch renders it: “when He, when His lamp shone, etc.” It is the pleonastic use of the pronoun so common in Syriac and if it were of much importance this might be called one of the Aramaisms of the book. [508]Ver. 4. Near presence. סוּד, consessus, familiar intercourse. See Ps. 55:15; Job 19:19. סיּד יהוה, God’s favor. The rendering of our translators, the secret of God is very happy, giving the idea of a heart intercourse unknown to others. [509]Ver. 5. My stay. Lit.: With me. But עִמָּד always seems to have something more than its preposition sense. It denotes not only a very intimate communion, or a connection nearer and stronger than עִם, but also the idea of constancy (see its use ver. 20 and Note) firmness, support, as the context generally shows. So Ps. 23:4, כִּי אַתָּה עִמָּדי, “for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they sustain me.” It suggests the idea of the verb עמד to stand, as though עמדי meant my stand by. This is not without ground etymologically, although lexicographers regard it as only a strengthening of עִם by insertion of ד euphonic, a thing, however, which has no other example in Hebrew. [510]Ver. 5. My children in their youth. נַעַר means simply a youth, either a boy or a young man, as in ver. 8. some would render it here, my servants, because it is sometimes so used like puer, or παῖς, but that would destroy all the pathos. Still, if rendered my children, it needs the qualifying words. Job’s children seem to have come to manhood at the time of his great bereavement, but he remembers them best in their tender age, when their presence was pure Joy, or less mingled with anxiety, such as increased with their approach to adult manhood. The anticipated trouble to which he seems to allude, 3:25, 26, had probably some connection with the fears that grew out of their older state, and which led to those touching acts of prayer and sacrifice mentioned, 1:5. [511]Ver. 6, The flowing milk. The epithet is needed here to give the proper emphasis, and, thereby, bring out the fair meaning which might, otherwise, be mistaken. This emphasis is on the words milk and oil, as both, from their smooth-flowing nature, suggestive of exuberance. It is not a mere effeminate luxury that Job has in mind. It is true that in the case of a rich man of old, possessed of vast flocks and herds, such a luxury as actually bathing the feet in milk would be neither incredible nor improbable. In the case of Job, however, we must take it as a hyperbolical expression figurative of great abundance, and not only that, but as something peculiar to him beyond other. This latter emphasis phasis is given by the strong preposition עִמָּד, which denotes something more than mere adjacency, as some take it, the rock,“near Job,” or “in his neighborhood,” It has a close personal sense; with me in distinction from others,—in my case, as something peculiar, or beyond the case of men generally. And this puts a still stronger emphasis on the substances mentioned. It was milk, in distinction from other fluids, in which the feet might be laved; or as though he intended to say, it was oil instead of water, the usual product of the rocky fountain that the rock poured forth. Nature gave to Job her richest abundance. So Umbreit seems to take it: Statt Wasser strömte der Fels Oel. See the same hyperbole Deut. 32:13. הָלִיךְ occurs only in this place. It is rendered steps by some, feet by others. Umbreit admits that the feet are here intended, even though the rendering be steps or goings. And indeed the other makes a most extravagant idea—a walking or wading in milk. It is rather strange that this whole verse is omitted in the Syriac. [512]Ver. 7. Forth from my gate. Does שַׁעַר here mean the gate of Job’s dwelling of the gate of the city? It would seem that such places as Gen. 34:24, and Job 31:34, ought to settle it. They can only mean the gate or door to the place of departure, or of one’s abode. Delitzsch, how ever, rejects it on the ground that “the place where Job dwelt in the country is to be thought of as without a gate.” But private dwellings in the country may have had gates to protect them against marauding banditti, and this would be especially necessary in the case of a man of great wealth, like Job. The preposition עלי may be rendered simply to, but its etymology suggests the idea of ascent, up to. It may mean position merely, by the city; but that requires the supposition that שער is the city gate. The other is the more natural from the fact that a city, with its acropolis, was anciently built on the higher ground, as making, in that way, a better place of defence for its inhabitants, as well as for persons coming into it from without, and who, in time of peace, dwelt in the plain below. [513]Ver. 10. Was hushed. Heb, hidden, that is, suppressed. For the plural form see Zöckler. Vers, 8. 9 and 10 present a very concise yet most graphic picture of the effect produced by the sudden entrance into an assembly of one held in great and universal respect. Its simplicity, its air of truthfulness, and the pathos of its connection, with his then state of extreme suffering, divest it of every appearance of vanity and boasting The language gives the idea of one not in office, but living a most honorable private life. Job would have been called by the Greeks one of the καλοκάγαθοι the good men and fair, the good men and true, who held no public station, but still, on that very account, possessed more true influence than the professional politician. [514]Ver. 11. And blessed. Umbreit ruhmte mich, made good report of me. This is very touching. In such assemblies there was not only the honor paid to him by the orators, and the leading men, but here and there some poor man’s ear arrested by his voice, some eye that testified to acts of beneficence of which public fame made no report. [515]Ver. 12. That I had saved. To render כי for or because, in this place, as most commentators do, seems greatly to mar the effect of the passage. It makes it a reason, and a somewhat boasting one, asserted by Job, instead,of a testimony to the fact: That I had saved, etc. The latter view is not only in harmony with the more usual sense of כי as a connective (quod, ὅτι = that Instead of because, see Note 12, Ver, 8, ch. 27, pa. 113), but seems also demanded by the future following and denoting a subjective succession of event or idea, dependent on a preceding governing word, such as תעידני in this case. Thus Jerome in the Vulgate renders it eo quod, as dependent on testimonium reddebat. If כי denotes a reason independently, it is not easy to see why it should not have been followed by the præterite, or why אֲמַלֵּט, as it stands, should not be rendered in the future. It may be said that the exigentia loci demands the other sense, but if the view taken of כי be correct, then the saving is a dependent idea, and the word takes properly the Future, that is, the Subjunctive form. If it is an independent assertion, it is impossible to distinguish it from לבשתי, Ver, 14, below. כי has no conversive power except as it connects, not as a reason, but as an assertion of dependence on a preceding verb whose sense is incomplete without it. [516]Ver. 13. On me came. The Future form of the verb תָּבֹא, is because of the train of thought being still under the influence of the recital, ver. 11. Though it may be regarded as grammatically independent of the כי, it still keeps the direction thereby given to it. So is it in respect to the 2d clause (אַרְנִן).It is all a part of that which made “the ear to bless and the eye to testify.” [517]Ver. 14. I put on. Here begins an entirely independent clause, and the assertion having no connection, either logical or grammatical, with what precedes, takes the preterite form לָבַשְׁתִּי. There is no tautology in the clause. The latter verb וַיִּלְבָּשֵׁנִי simply explains the figurative sense by the literal: yes, it did really clothe me—it became my habit—as the figure has become naturalized in English—habitual to me. [518]Ver. 14. Mantle and didem. These are not mentioned as ornaments, but as expressing the completeness of the clothing: From head to foot attired in righteousness. [519]Ver. 16. Cause I knew not. Some would render it,“the cause of one I knew not.” It requires too great an ellipsis, a double ellipsis in fact. [ו] לֹא יְדַעְתִּי (אִישׁ) רִיב The rendering given implies the same and more. In the one case it would simply denote impartiality; the other and more literal rendering gives, in addition, that of carefulness to obtain a full knowledge of the case in order to be impartial. [520]Ver. 16. I would search it out. אחקרהו is the subjective Future denoting disposition, and, in that way, habitual or repeated action, such as we denote by our auxiliary would (from will) which never loses its subjectively future idea:“I would do so and so;”it was my way. This is carried into the next verb at the beginning of the next verse, וָאֲשַׁבְּרָה; its ו, whether we call it conversive or not, giving it the exact time force of אחקרהו immediately preceding. The paragogic ending, however, gives it an optative as well as a subjunctive sense: “I would desire to break:” “I took pleasure in breaking the faugs of evil men.” [521]Ver. 17. Evil men. עַוָּל, taken collectively. [522]Ver. 18. Like the palm tree. on the three interpretations of חוֹל, in this verse, see Excursus IX. pa. 206, [523]Ver. 20. With me. עִמָּדִי. This seems to be a favorite preposition in Job’s speeches. It is stronger than עִמִּי would have been: my glory, in distinction from that of others. It gives also the idea of permanence. [524]Ver. 20. Ever green. תחליף, regerminates. It is the same word that is used of the tree, 14:7. See Ps. 102:27; Isai. 9:9; 40:31 in kal Ps. 90:5, 90:6. The bow the emblem of vigor, strength, power. See Gen. 49:24. [525] Ver. 22. They answered not again. The reason is given in the 2d clause, commonly rendered, and my speech dropped upon, them. To regard ו, however, at the beginning of this second clause, as merely copulative, and thus denoting a subsequent speaking, would be an absurdity. By taking it as illative, that is, as connecting by way of giving a reason, we understand, why they answered not. It was on account of the gentle and persuasive manner of his speech disinclining them to make reply. And this suggests another idea closely akin to it, and well deserving of notice as favored by the peculiar sense of נטף, “distillation, gentle and repealed dropping, as of dew or rain”It may be taken as describing what may be called the musical effect of his works, the charm they possessed, as though still sounding on, or distilling in the souls of the hearers. Umbreit gives a similar idea when he represents it as a spiritual influence: Meine Rede in ihrer Einwirkung auf die Herzen der Zuhörer war zu vergleichen mit dem auf den Erdboden träufeluden Regen. This is in harmony too with the tense form of תִּטֹּף, the subjective future, expressive of repeated influence, regarded as in the mind. The voice that charmed them seems still to prolong its tones, producing music in the soul, and there is a reluctance to destroy this effect by speaking again after its outward utterance had ceased. In this respect it suggests the striking passage Phædo 84, B. When Socrates closes his great argument on the Immortality of the soul as drawn from Ideas, the charm of his words still fills the ear, keeping them from speaking for some time, whilst each of the auditors is reluctant to break the silence. A similar effect is most poetically described in the odyssey XI. 333, where Ulysses ends the long narrative of his wanderings, terminating with what he saw in Hades: ὥς ἔφαθ’ οἱ δ’ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῆ, κηληθμῷ δ’ ἔσχοντο κατὰ μέγαρα σκιόεντα. He ceased to speak, and all, in silence hushed, Were held as by a rapture sounding on Amid the shadowy halls. Κηληθμός, a soothing strain prolonged, still vibrating, undulating, throbbing. So נטף carries a similar idea of dropping, distilling. [526]Ver, 23. For rain. An instance of subtile emotional transition. This mention of the rain is suggested by תטף in the preceding verse, or rather, the spiritual metaphor contained in it, [527]Ver. 24. That I should mock Them. see how the word שָׂחַק is used 12:4, in the sense of mocking or scorning. There is no reason why it should not be so translated here. The rendering smile, in the sense of favor, pity as Delitzsch and some others would give it, has no example in the Scripture. שחק is used with אל or ל, and with עלי. The two first denote laughing at, in the sense of sport or mockery, the third carries the stronger idea of laughing against, that is, of scorn, or derision. There are only two places where it even seemingly varies from this. In Job 5:22, it might seem capable of the rendering smile, but it is the smile of contempt (“at destruction and at famine shalt thou laugh” or smile) not of favor or pity. So Prov. 31:25, “she rejoices” (E. V.)“she laughs (Conant) at the time to come”. If rendered smile there, it is the smile of fearlessness. The stronger word laugh is according to the usage of the ancient world generally. They expressed all emotions of the kind, whether of grief or joy, by words and actions of a more violent nature than we exhibit. The sense of smiling for favor, however, having no example whatever in Scripture, there is no need of dwelling on the rendering some give to לא יאמינו, in order to accommodate it to suck a view. It is a mode of exegesis consisting simply in that easy resort of turning a clause from the apodosis to the protasis of a sentence, by supposing an ellipsis of the relative, which will only do when the context most clearly demands. it. According to this Delitzsch and Zöcklee would give the general idea to be: He smiles upon (favors, pities) the despairing—or “He smiles upon them in their hopelessness;” as though it were an ellipsis for אשר לא יאמינו. This, however, even if it could be tolerated by itself, only mates the next clause all the more difficult and unmeaning. See the efforts of Delitzsch and others to make any sense out of it. The substance of it as given by Ewald, Zöckler, and Delitzsch is, that they did not make him cease to smile by their hopelessness. One can hardly look at the structure of the verse, however, without seeing that a strong contrast is intended which this treatment fails to give. The virtue which Job here claims for himself is that of gravity or dignity. Equally opposed to this, as they are to each other, is levity, whether in the form of frivolity, mockery, or derision, on the one side, or of petulance, moroseness, or anger, on the other. The meaning of the expression in the second clause would seem to be determined by Gen. 4:5: in, Kal, to be angry, as Cain was (וַיִּפְּלוּ פָּנָיו, and his countenance fell); consequently, in Hiphil, to make angry, or to act angrily, as in Jerem. 3:12, or to make sad, gloomy, morose. Men would not believe that Job could indulge in mockery or vain laughter; neither could they ever make him angry, or disturb the gravity of his countenance;—ever the same even cheerful, dignified, God-fearing man. [528]Ver. 25. Their way I chose, guided, directed, them in their way of life. Sat as head: as judge or arbiter among them; as in ver. 16. [529] Ver. 25. Amidst the multitude, or crowd. גְּדוּד is used oftenest of warlike bands, but to give it a military sense here, so as to make Job captain of a troop, or to render it as Renan does,— Je trônais comme un roi entouré de sa garde— is not only preposterous in itself, but destroys one of the most touching contrasts in the chapter. Though גְּדוּד is mostly used in a bad sense for a troop of banditti, or marauders (Hos. 7:1; 1 Kings 11:24; Gen.49:11), yet there is nothing in the way of its meaning any large crowd or body of men, especially of a turbulent character. (Umbreit, in dem Haufen). It would be the best Hebrew word to be found to designate a mob, whom the presence of such a man as Job would overawe by his very force of character. The expression as a king (כמלך), or, as though a king, is conclusive against the idea some have entertained that Job was in reality some kind of monarch or duke. He was that far higher thing, a holy, God-fearing man, known to be most just, whose very appearance struck with reverence and respect even a godless multitude, and made him, for a season, like a king among them. It is a picture that reminds us of one of Virgil’s best comparisons: Æn. I. 148. Ac veluti magno in populo cum sæpe coorta est Seditio, sævitque animis ignobile vulgus; Tum, pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum quem Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus astant. Ille regit dictis animos. That is he sits as Rex. A strong contrast is evidently intended between what is expressed by גְּדוּד (the turbulent assembly) and the hushed mourning circle, where Job appears in so different a capacity. The idea of Ewald and Dillmann that in this language Job meant to give the three friends a kind of back-stroke for their failure to comfort him is unworthy of such excellent commentators, as it would be wholly at war with the impassioned earnestness of this most pathetic chapter. [530]Ver. 2. Ripened manhood. כֶּלַח occurs only, here and in ver. 26; but there the comparison seems to fix its meaning: the ripened age, the ripened corn. It is not necessarily old age, though that well fits the first passage, but ripeness in general: so that it may be rendered here, manhood, mature ago and strength, which these poor wrecks of humanity fail to reach. It has perished (אבד) in their youth, and hence they are unfit for any industrial service. [531]Ver. 3. Arid rock. גֶּלְמֹוד. See. Job 3:7; 15:34; Isai. 49:21 (where It has Patach in the first syllable, here only Segol). The primary idea is hardness. (hence barrenness, Isai 49:21). The Arabic word means hard rock, or earthpan. It may be taken here as a collective noun-epithet: Want and hunger have made them rock—or like the rock, dry and hard; the particle of comparison in the concise language of poetry left out. [532] Ver. 3. Vagrants. ערק, as a verb, occurs only here. It is quite common in the Syriac in the sense of fleeing. This it always has in the Peschito; as in Matth. 2:13: “Flee into Egypt,” 3:7, “to flee from the wrath to come,” Jas. 4:7, “Resist Satan and he will flee.” So also Mark 14:52; Acts 7:29, and a large number of other places. So in the Old Testament Peschito (Zech. 11:16, the only seeming exception, being a wrong reading for פרקו). The sense of gnawing is found in the Arabic, though there, too, it has the other meaning: to roam through the land; the gnawing sense being secondary, in some way of derivation, or most likely onomatopical, like the Hebrew חרֹק to grind the teeth, hhrk. In verse 17, the noun, or participle עֹרְקַי, may be rendered my gnawers, and suits very well the context (gnawing pains); but there again we are met by the fact that the corresponding Arabic has the sense of veins, arteries, or sinews, such as our translators have given it. How it gets this we may not clearly know; although the conjecture may be hazarded that it has some connection with the idea of fleeing or darting pains, as they are called. See Note on that verse. It cannot be denied that in this place, the sense of “gnawing the desert,” the “hard ground of the steppe,” is very harsh and hyperbolical . In the sense of fleeing, as so common in the Syriac, the chaldaic, and the later Rabbinic, it has the usual prepositions to and from. As joined here with צִיָּה the latter meaning (fleeing from) is the easiest; since, in other languages, a verb of flight (when meaning from) often has the accusative directly without any preposition (as to flee the land), whilst the other ellipsis, when fleeing to is meant, is unexampled. It does not, therefore, mean, as our translators give it: “fleeing into the desert;” and that is a sufficient answer to Delitzsch, who says “that the meaning fugere is tame, since the desert is the proper habitation of these people”. There is nothing, however, opposed to the idea of their being driven in from the desert, on account of want, or of their roaming back and forth from their wild haunts to the borders of civilization, and to that the word vagrants is exactly adapted. [533]Ver. 3. Land of drought. צָיָּה, simply means aridity, drought; as in Job 24:19, from the root צָהָה. In Pss. 70:2; 107:35, ארץ is joined with it. Here it stands for the place—the desert. [534] Ver. 3. Of old time. אֶמֶש. Some render this word darkness, forcing its derivation for that purpose. It never has that sense, however, in any other place, but always the clear idea of yesterday or yesternight (Gen. 19:34; 31:29; 1 Kings 12:26). But how could a word meaning yesterday be used for remote or indefinite past time? That objection is met by observing that תְּמול, with the same meaning of yesterday, is used Ps. 90:14: a thousand years as yesterday. Time past and gone, is all gone; yesterday is “with the years beyond the flood”. And so all past time is called yesterday, even in the non-poetical language of the New Testament (Heb. 13:8, χθὲς καὶ σήμερον καἰ εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας, “yesterday, to-day, and for the ages”). It may be said, too, that this indefiniteness of time associates well with that indefiniteness of space, and is poetically suggested by it. [535]Ver. 4. The Acrid herb, מַלּוּחַ E V, mallows. Conant, the salt plant. Etymologically, any salt, ill-tasting herb. [536]Ver. 4. Roots of juniper. Conant, broom roots, (Ewald, genisten-vurzel). Zöckler, ginster-wurzel. [537]Ver. 5. Lit., from the body—that is, of society. גֵּו does not mean specially the back. It does not suit this place, and it gives a false notion (גֵּוָה) Job 20:25. The Syriac גַּו always has the sense of within, and becomes a preposition, as מֶן גַּו from within. [538]Ver. 6. Gloomy gorge. So עֲרוּץ נְחַלִים is well rendered by Conant. [539]Ver. 6. Holes of earth. עָפָר would suggest the idea of artificial rather than natural caverns. Rocks: כֵּפִים; etymologically hollow rocks—caverns—though the word in Syriac means rock or stone generally. [540]Ver. 7. They bray. Descriptive future: They are ever braying. In 6:5 נהק is used for the ass braying for food. The braying here is not necessarily for the same cause. Their famished state had already been expressed. It may denote their barbarous language, which sounded like braying, or some mere animal noise they made, whether of pain, or of wild exhilaration. שִׂיחִים the desert shrubs. The plural is here used to denote a more special locality, as demanded by the preposition בין. So in Gen. 21:15: the desert shrubs under which Hagar cast the child Ishmael in the wilderness of Beersheba. Elsewhere it is שיחְ the singular taken collectively. [541]Ver. 7 Herd like beasts. Michaelis and Eichhorn seem to give the truest exposition here, referring it to a beastly conduct demanding an euphemism for its expression. Such is the Hebrew word itself, ספח, primary sense effundere, the same in the Arabic, and easily giving rise to the rarer secondary meaning of addition, flowing together, increase, association. But this latter sense seems very poor here, and Delitzsch’s rendering, “under the nettles are they poured forth” gives hardly any consistent idea. Huddle together would be better as suggesting smaller numbers. The general Arabic sense is that of pouring, like the Hebrew, but its third conjugation has the sense scortari, coming very naturally from the primary. It is a deponent, and in this corresponds to the Hebrew Pual, as the Arabic Illd, generally does. The best argument, however, is from the parallelism; the beastly sounds in the first member suggesting some kind of beastly action in the second. It is thus that Herodotus, I. 203, describes the ways of the old Caucasians of whose stock We boast ourselves to be. It is rather worse, because more open and shameful: μίξιν τε τούτων τῶν ἄνθρώπων εἶναι ἐμφανέα κατάπερ τοῖσι προβάτοισι. [542]Ver. 8. Sons of nameless sires. Not sons of infamy, as some render it. The first בני is simply descriptive, like “sons of Belial,” “daughters of song,” as the word is often used in Hebrew. A son of folly is, simply, a fool. The context, however, demands that the second בני be taken as strictly genealogical: sons of the nameless,—thus intensifying their own namelessness. [543]Ver. 8. With scourgings. נִכָּאוּ, they are beaten, can only indirectly mean that they are driven. They are whipped out of the laud. [544]Ver. 9. Word of scorn. מִלָּה, a by-word. Something often repeated. LXX. θρύλλημα. Job’s appearance on their borders in his strange plight (see Excursus, Add., p.208), was the constant. theme of their brutal jest. They could not understand his calamity. [545]Ver. 10. Their spittle, or their spitting. The rendering, “they forbear not to spit before my face”, would be merely charging them with a want of politeness. It has probably come from a supposed difficulty in רחקו,as though it meant a distance too great for spitting in the face; but this supposition is not demanded. They stand some distance off, and spit at him, from some strange dread his appearance occasions. It is thus a most graphic picture of turpitude and ignorant malignity. Or the order of event may be different from that of expression: they spit at him, and then start back. [546]Ver. 11. Loosed my girdle. The metaphors in the two members are different, but they suggest one another. The agent in the first clause is God, unnamed, as is frequently the case in Job, and for reasons similar to those given in note to 3:20, and other places. The other verbs which have these Troglodytes for their subject are all plural (vers. 7, 8, 9, 10), and therefore it would be strange that there should be a singular, or a distributive, here. The verb פִּתַּח, literally to open, may be rendered to loose, when by the loosing something is made bare, and, therefore, in such a connection as this it cannot be used of the bow string, as some take it; nor as applied to God can it denote the metaphor of the loosened rein, as in the second clause. It must therefore be taken figuratively of the girdle (of the loins) as the symbol of strength. It may be said, too, that ויענניּ would not suit as used of the wild horde. Their other acts are most specifically set forth, and it would be strange that such a general term (hath humbled or afflicted me) should occur among them. For these reasons, too, the Keri (יתרי) my cord, is to be preferred to the Ketib יתרו. [547]Ver. 11. Unchecked rein. The clause reads literally: They send (or cast off) the rein (or bridle) before me. רֶסֶן שִׁלֵּחוּ. It is exactly the Latin phrase habenas immittere, or remittere. So remittere fræna—dare fræna—German: den Zugel schiessen lassen—English: Give him the rein: Greek: ἐφεῖναι τὰς ἡνίας. שִׁלֵּחוּ, the Piel; they send, or throw them, violently, or suddenly,—cast them on the horse’s neck, as Euripides, πώλοις ἐμβάλοντες ἡνίας. The metaphor is a very natural one, and it does not require us to suppose that these creatures actually rode horses. It simply denotes the suddenness and violence of their attack. [548]Ver. 12. Their deadly ways. Lit.: The ways of their destruction. The suffix in אֵידָם belongs to the whole compound expression. The whole figure denotes an invading and besieging host. The language is military and hyperbolical. [549]Ver. 13. They mar my path. To be taken figuratively, says Delitzsch: They make escape impossible; others: they take away all my resources. This answers very well in general; but there are grounds for taking much of this description in its most literal sense. These creatures wantonly destroy the poor accommodations Job had in his lonely leper house (בֵּית הַחָפְשִׁית, 2 Chron. 26:20; Ps. 88:6), and annoy him every way in his helplessness. [550]Ver. 13. As though it were gain to them. Most commentators simply render this clause: “They aid my fall, or my ruin;” E. V., they set forward my calamity; giving יֹעִילוּ the sense of עזר. The references made by Zöckler and others are to Zech. 1:15, and Isai. 47:2, neither of which resemble this case in the essential point. The context sometimes allows this rendering to the verb (to help, to aid, etc.), but it never loses the radical idea of profit, real or supposed. This makes the contrast here, which the clause presents, although so very short. It might be rendered almost word for word according to a common English idiom: they profit to my hurt. But the future is subjective, not signifying an actual but a seeming fact: they would profit; or, it is as though they would profit. It is indeed pure wantonness, the mischief they do, but they labor as though they were really to get some gain from it. Then there is the implied personal contrast: whether it be gain, or wantonness, or sport to them, it is trouble and ruin to Job. In this view there is no need of bracketing any words in the full translation given. There is no more than is needed to express the contrast so concisely presented in the Hebrew. [551]Ver. 13. With none to help. Ltt.: no helper to them. Ewald renders this: niemand hilft vor ihnen. This is also Dr. Conant’s: There is no helper against them. It seems to fit the passage admirably, but there cannot be found an example of ל being thus used with this verb in the sense of against. The words put in brackets may be regarded as the briefest exegesis: They are too vile to have an ally. The mischief they do, and the malice they show against a man in Job’s wretched condition is sui generis: “None but themselves can be their parallel.” [552]Ver. 14. Fracture in a wall. Compare Isaiah 30:13, where we have the exact image. It is the rendering of the Vulgate: quasi fracto muro. Here too there is something which has the appearance of being intended literally. It looks like a real assault upon Job’s wretched temporary habitation (his בֵּית הַחָפְשִׁית, free or separate house, see note 20 above) whether upon the mezbele or place of offal far from the city of which Delitzsch speaks (LXX., ἐπὶ τῆς κοπρίας ἔξω τῆς πόλεως ) or on the border of the Desert according to the view taken Exc. X., p 207, They break it all down through pure recklessness, rushing in upon him and filling him with terror. The wholly figurative view would regard the language as denoting simply great change of condition, or great reverse of fortune; but there is too much particularity in the painting for that alone. If literal, it must refer to events which occurred to Job’s annoyance before the coming of his three friends. [553]Ver. 15. All turned against me: A total reverse of fortune, an overthrow, a catastrophe. הָהְפַּךְ is taken impersonally: It is all upturned, or, there is an upturning, an overthrow (a מהפּכה see the word as often used of Sodom and Gomorrah) most graphically presented in the impersonal rendering of the verb regarded as having for its subject its own idea: subversum est, like the Latin concurritur, pugnatur, or, pugnatum est, it is fought, there is a battle. Umbreit assumes God (unnamed) as the subject: Er hat sich gegen mich gewandt, “He is turned against me.” But this does not suit the extremely passive Hophal conjugation as used here, although it might, perhaps, have been consistent with the use of the Niphal (see Note to 28:5, and Excursus VIII. pa. 201). The Kal having two related senses, namely, that of transformation (one thing turning into another), and that of subversion (turning upside down, or reversal), the Niphal is the passive of the first as the Concordance uniformly shows, the Hophal (comparatively unfrequent) of the latter. Its subject must be, the state or thing overthrown, and therefore cannot be God. The more common way is to take בַּלָּהוֹת for the subject, as Delitzsch and Ewald do, but there is the same incongruity (terrors cannot be overturned, and even when it is rendered “turned” it makes but a vague and feeble sense) whilst there is the other difficulty arising from the disagreement both in gender and number. It is indeed the case that in Hebrew, where the verb precedes, there may be, sometimes, a subject, or seeming subject, differing in number; but this is not a mere arbitrary rule of the grammarians. There is a reason for it. In such cases the predominant subject is the very idea of the verb itself, which on that account comes first whilst the subject afterwards expressed represents only an aspect of that more important idea. As for example Jer. 51:48, יָבוֹא לָהּ הַשׁוֹדְדִים, “shall come (there shall be a coming) upon her,—the spoilers.” The coming upon her, or that there should be an invasion, an invasion of the strong Babylon, was hte strange thought, the important idea, and therefore the verb is placed first, and left uncontrolled by the number of the noun, in order to give it prominence or emphasis. In the preceding part of the same verse, on the other hand, the noun subject contains the predominant idea, and the verb, notwithstanding it is placed first, conforms to it: וְרִנְּנוּ עַל בָּבֶל שָׁמַיִם, “the Heavens shall cry out against Babylon.” In this case, moreover, the accents make a separation between הָהְפַּךְ and בַּלָּהוֹת, although the latter belongs to the same clause, and, therefore, there should be given to it something of an independent, or partially separate rendering, as the translator has endeavored to do, in order to prevent the enfeebling winch would come from making it the sole subject of this abrupt and exclamatory verb: terrors everywhere, as the result of the overturning, whether taken literally or figuratively. So Renan, Les terreurs m’ assigént de tous parts. The expression here might seem to resemble the one we have, 1 Sam. 4:19,נֶהֶפְכוּ עָלֶיהָ צְרֶיהָ, rendered: her pains were turned upon her, but there it is Niphal, and, as we have elsewhere seen (Excursus VIII., pa 202), denotes transformation, a sudden “turn,” as we say, from quiet to extreme anguish. Besides in that case all is regular, whereas the peculiar feature of this passage is its passionate abruptness as shown in the brokenness and irregularity of its language. No commentator has taken a better view of this than the quaint and greatly unappreciated Caryl. He makes his exegesis and his pious practical commentary illustrate each other: “For as terrors discompose the mind and put it out of all due frame and order, so the construction of this text, wherein Job complains of them, is out of all grammatical frame and order. There is here a double anomalie, or breach of ordinary grammar. The word terrors, being of the plural number, is joined in construction with a verb in the singular; there is also, a like irregularity in the genders of these two words. It is as if the Spirit of God would hint to us by these disturbed expressions, how much disturbance and irregularity such terms work and impress upon the affections,” Caryl on Job, Vol. II. 710. This learned old non-conformist is right. The Spirit of God makes its revelation to us through the souls of men, through the medium of their emotions and conceptions; the language, therefore, that comes out to us from such a process is His language, even when most intensely human. The impassioned state of soul stamps itself upon such broken utterances; and to overlook them in an exegesis in to act the part of unfaithful interpreters. In these chapters, 29 and 30, we have pictures from the life. It is no invented thing. A true experience lies before us. The view taken of ההפך is confirmed by the 2d and 3d clauses of this same verse. They are but illustrations of the great change of fortune so abruptly expressed in the first, whether we regard that as referring to the general description given in the 29 (of which this may be taken as the reverse picture) or whether we suppose Job to have in mind the lireral overthrow as before referred to, or to mingle both together in the images of the wind and the clouds that immediately follow. Umbreit seems to enter into the spirit of the passage when he says of ההפך עלי, als Ausruf zu nehmen. It is, in fact, an exclamation, an outcry, caused by the terror of the assault he seems to be describing, or by a sudden vivid recollection of the terrible overthrow or reversal of his condition, as though he had said: “dire catastrophe!—how great the change!—everything against me—all terror and confusion!” Eichhorn renders ההפך עלי “es ist mit mir ganz anders worden,” taking it impersonally, and בלהות by itself as an addition to the general exclamation. There is no difficulty in making the subject of תרדף in the second clause refer to בלהוֹת taken collectively; but a better way is to regard the feminine as denoting generally the event, or the whole course of events, for which the feminine pronoun would stand in Hebrew as the neuter does in Greek. [554]Ver. 16. My very life. Literally? My soul is poured out upon me, or my soul upon me. It seems to be merely an intensive expression. Or, upon me may mean, while yet alive. [555]Ver. 16. hold me fast. יֹאחֲזוּנִי, the stubbornness and tenacity of his disease: will not let him go; no remission. [556]Ver. 17. Above. Or more strictly from above me, מֵעָלָי, Hence Tremellius renders it perfodiuntur (a stragula) imposita mihi, supplying coverlet or blanket as something that chafed his bones,—a rendering not at all unnatural, since the idea of a chafing of fretting of his garment, or bedclothes, is so easily suggested. Again, מעלי may mean not much more than עלי above, my bones upon me, with me, in me, as our translation has it (see the places in Noldius where this preposition, like עלי, seems to have the meanings, in, apud, juxta). Thus taken it, too, may be merely intensive: my very bones, each one of them, as is denoted by the distributive plural with a singular verb. But there seems intended something of a contrast between the two members of the verse. The bones mey be regarded as above, without, or over, in respect to the nerves, or veins supposed to belong more especially to the interiora of the body. We do, indeed, commonly think of the bones as within, but beside the general demand of such a comparison, there was something peculiar in Job’s extreme emaciation, that would make the contrast very striking. His bones protruded; they had become visible; so that his body seemed like a skeleton, all bones. So be speaks of himself 17:15: Death rather than these bones. So Elihu says 33:21, evidently meaning Job: His bones before unseen stick out. Compare also Ps. 22:18: “I can count all my bones, they look and stare at me.” Thus viewed מֵעָלָי in common literal sense of above, or from above, becomes not only allowable, but most appropriate. In his contemplation of himself in this condition, the bones become the outside of him, as it were. The rendering, pierced from me, as some translate, gives a strange sense, or if paraphrased as a constructio prægnans (Zöckler: Die Nacht durchbohrt meine Gebeine, sie von mir ablösend, as also, in substance Ewald, Delitzsch, Umbreit, and Renan) seems forced and unwarranted. The rendering of Tremellius, “cut or fretted by the blauket above” is to be preferred, if the view here taken cannot be sustained. There is, moreover, the view of Raschi, presenting less difficulty than the harsh construction prægnans to which Umbreit and Zöckler are compelled to resort. He takes עצמי מעלי as equivalent to מעל עצמי, and interprets it as meaning “the worms who strip off the flesh from above my bones.” [557]Ver. 17. My throbbing nerves, עֹרְקַי. In Note 3 ver. 3 there have been already given some of the reasons for adhering to the old translation of the word in this place, as supported by the Targum, by Maimonides, with the learned Jewish Rabbis, and by the older commentators, such as Mercerus, Piscator, and others mentioned in Poole’s Synopsis. Aben Ezra renders it by גִּידִים nervi (LXX. νεῦρά μου) a sense which he says it has “in the Ishmaelitic language.” So Kimchi in his book of roots: בערבי יקראו הגידין אלערוק “in Arabic they call the nerves (or sinews) אלערוק”, using the Arabic article. It is thus used indiscriminately of all the finer or more interior parts of the body, as of sinews, arteries, or veins; and the latter especially were so called from the idea of continual motion in them increased by pain or heat. They were conceived of as continually fleeing, throbbing, pulsating, etc. (see Note on ערקים ver. 8). It is this which justifies the epithet added in the translation, and it would seem to have been some idea of this kind, as attaching to the word which suggested that other graphic expressionלֹא יִשְׁכָבוּן, they never lie down, they are never still. This was the thought, too, which suggested to Raschi his interpretation of the word in this place:גידי אין להם מנוחה, to which he adds: in the Arabic גיד is called ערוק. So Rabbi Levi Ben Gerson renders it הדפקים, “my nerves that pulse and never rest, on account of the strange and distempered heat that is in me.” Maimonides, too, in his comment on this place has a similar thought about the motion caused by the increased heat of the body, and this leads him to a remark so curious that the translator hopes to be pardoned for inserting it. This most philosophical commentator has his thoughts so carried away by the idea suggested that he cannot stop short of the Primus Motor: “When a thing is moved we may say, it is the staff that moves the stone, but the hand moves the staff, the chords (המיתרים) move the hand, the muscles (העצבים) move the chords, the nerves (הערקים) move the muscles, the natural heat (החום הטבעי) moves the nerves, the form (הצורה, the idea, law, nature, formal arrangement of the matter) moves the natural heat the Prime Mover God (הראשון) moves, originates and sets in action, the idea.” On this frequent Rabbinical word, see Buxtorf Lex. Chald., and the Worterbuch Chaldaisches, Iately published, of Rabb. Dr. J. Levy. It is an argument for this sense of ערקי that it seems demanded by the parallelism. The mention of bone in the first clause, requires that some other part of the body should be the subject of the second. The Syriac ערקא, wherever it occurs in the Peschito version of the Old and New Testaments, always means some kind of ligament (lorum) string or cord, being equivalent to גִּידִים by which the Rabbins render the Hebrew עֹרֵק. See Gen. 14:13 (corrigia, strings or ties for the shoe) Isai. 5:27; Job 1:27; Ezek. 23:15; Mark 1:7; Luke 3:16; Acts 13:25. The participial form is one common to a great many Hebrew nouns like שׂרֵק סֹהֵר, etc. [558]Ver. 18. My garment changed. The word הִתְחַפֵּשׂ occurs in this Hithpahel form in four places, 1 Sam. 28:8, which is the key passage, 1 Kings 22:30; 2 Chron. 18:29, and 1 Kings 20:38. The first gives us the sense of the word as clear as any Lexicon could have done. It shows that the sense of disguise is not, by itself, the predominant one. The word simply expresses the mode by which it is effected, as the words immediately following show: he disguised himself, that is, put on other garments, וַיִּלְבַשׁ בְּגָדִים אֲחֵרִים, which may be regarded as epexegetical of it. The 2d and 3d examples in the same way give the explanation: The kings in the battle exchanged garments. In 1 Kings 20:38, the disguise seems to have been made in a different way, בָּאֲפֵר עַל עֵינָיו, with ashes upon his eyes, as commonly rendered, but as rendered by the LXX. with a strip or belt (τελαμῶνι) upon his eyes,—the word being אֲפֵר instead of אֵפֶר, the usual one for ashes. Gesenius regards it as a different word, if the true reading of the text before them was not, rather, אפד (unpointed), an ephod or linen veil. Reading it, however, as ashes it may fairly be taken as something additional to the action expressed by the verb יתחפש just before it; or it may well be that the phrase, originally meaning change of raiment, had come to represent the idea of disguise in whatever way effected. If this is regarded as inherent in the Hithpahel form it may, perhaps, be supposed to come from the Kal sense to seek, investigate, etc., with the reflexive idea added: one who causes himself to be sought, inquired after. This, however, is not easy, and a more direct way, if allowable, would be to regard the sense of change of raiment as predominant, and connect it with the cognate הָפַשׁ, to be free from, liber, solutus, as in the word חָפְשּׁי, Job 3:9, and many other places. Hence the idea of having the garment stripped off, or of being free from it, to be replaced by another. So Parkhurst would seem to view it, though, from his disregard of the Hebrew punctuation the two verbs are regarded by him, not simply as cognate, but as one and the same roof. It should be noted, too, that in any view we may take of the word, the idea of disguise is not in the garment, but in the person. Here, however, to give it any application at all in that sense, it is the garment itself that is disguised. That could in no way be truly said, though it were ever so much fouled by the disease. If the view taken can be sustained, it certainly gives a clear and suitable sense. Job undoubtedly would desire to change his garments. There are a number of passages (see especially 4:31) which show that be was very sensitive in this matter, and that his neatness was greatly offended by the foulness of condition produced by his disease. This would make the change very desirable, and, at the same time, very difficult in consequence of the adhesion. The necessity for it, and the pain occasioned, would be no small part of his wretchedness, and even hyperbolical language would seem most natural in describing the effort for that purpose. The chief difficulty of the other view is in the words רָב כֹהַ. To render this “divine” or “almighty force,” as Delitzsch and Umbreit do, seems utterly extravagant, and to take it of the violence of the disease, as E. V. and others do, is not warranted by any other usage of כֹהַ. The second clause gives the reason why so much force was required, and which would seem all the greater from the pain it occasioned. [559]Ver. 19. Cast me down. הֹרַנִ. Dejecit. [560]Ver. 19. My semblance turned. Lit.: I have likened myself. But the Hithpahel is intensive rather than simply reflex: I am become the picture, the perfect copy or resemblance. The reference is doubtless to the earthy, ashen, cadavarous appearance that the leprosy occasioned; though there probably mingles with it something of that idea of weakness and mortality connected with the word ashes in other parts of the Bible. [561] Ver. 22. As in my very being. This is given as the best rendering of that difficult word תּוּשִׁיָּה in its accommodation to the demands of this place (see Exc. V. p. 189 and also Notes upon it, 12:16; 24:3, and other places). Its general etymological sense of reality, solidity, substantiality, true being, or οὐσία, may be referred either to knowledge of truth. It is the deepest essence, and may be taken here adverbially, as is not unfrequently the case with qualifying Hebrew nouns, essentialiter, substantialiter, οὐσιωδῶς. It may have, moreover, something of a superlative sense, like the similar words נֵצַח excellency, truth, splendor, לָנֶצַה completely, triumphantly, or תַּכְלִית perfection, perfectly. Tremellius: Efficis ut diffluam substantia; Cocceius, among the older commentators: et maceras me reapse (re ipsa), in very truth, using it as a term of intensity. Vulgate valide. Buxtorf, Lex. Chald., in essentia, id est, ut tota essentia pereat, totaliter, et omnino; though he seems to regard it as equivalent to a Targumic word תֻּשְׁיְתָא, meaning foundation. De Wette, zerrüttest Sinn und Geist. Others translate it happiness, safety, though still retaining the old reading. Our translators, by “substance,” may have meant wealth, as the Greeks use the word οὐσία, so very similar etymologically. In the margin, however, they have given the word wisdom. This old rendering, being, essence, reality, etc., is entitled to the more regard in view of the great difficulty later commentators (Ewald, Dillmann, Delitzsch, Zöckler) have in giving anything more satisfactory. They render it, “the crash, noise, roaring of the storm;” Zöckler: und lässest mich zergehen in Sturmesbrausen. But to get this they have to take another and quite different reading, תשואה, as found in 36:29, and 39:7. Umbreit and Gesenius turn it into a verb, תְּשַׁוֶּה, and give it the sense of a Chaldaic word found only in another conjugation: “Thou frightenest me.” But there is no suffix pronoun, as there ought to be in such a case. The greatest objection, however, besides the change required in the reading, is the wretched anticlimax it makes: “Thou catchest me up to the wind; thou makest me to ride upon it; thou dissolvest me; thou frightenest me.” It is supposed by some that the first clause is meant to represent Job’s prosperity, the second his downfall. But there are no words giving the least indication of such a contrast, and there is little in the calm, God-fearing, domestic happiness of Job, that suggests such a picture of sudden elation. It is rather that of ruin expressed in a weird and passionate style which almost resembles the language of delirium. Such an idea is favored by that most sober Jewish commentator Aben Ezra, who ascribes this strange language to the “wild imaginations caused by fever; Job dreams of riding on the wind.” It may, in fact, have been one of those “scaring visions” of which he speaks 7:14; 20:8, and which formed no small part of his misery. There is nothing, as Caryl supposes, unworthy of the Scriptures in such an idea. Were not the first clause so clear, so incapable of being taken in any other way, we might almost suspect the translation as too Shakesperian, or Dantean, for Job, though he shows much more imagination than the other speakers. But everything except the תֻּשִׁיָּה is so perspicuous, the “being lifted up to the wind,” the “riding upon it,” the being “dissolved,” or melting way, that there can be no doubt of the rendering: It reminds one of Virgil’s description of the expiating processes endured by spirits, Æn. VI., 740. —Aliæ panduntur inanes Suspensæ ad ventos. Job’s language resembles some of the mad utterances of Lear, giving the impression that called out the comment of Aben Ezra. It is almost in the very words of Othello: “Blow me about in winds,” presenting also something of a parallel to Homer’s language, employed Odyss. IV. 727, and elsewhere, to denote utter and remediless destruction: ἅϊστον ἀνηρείψαντο θύελλαι,— a “carrying away by the gales,” a “disappearing” in their unknown view less regions. Stress has been laid on the fact that the word is a abbreviated in its vowels, whereas in other places it is written full (תֻּ for תּוּ); but this is evidence rather of some difficulty which old transcribers or editors may have had about the meaning of the word, and hence of a desire to exchange it for another. Had there been some other word in the original it is almost incredible that this difficult תּוּשִׁיָּה should have been put in place of it. Merx, as usual, solves the difficulty by his arbitrary reading תּשָׁדֵּנֵי. [562]Ver. 23. Turn me back. Comp. שׁוּב, Gen. 3:19; שׁוּבוּ בְנֵי אָדָם, “Go back ye sons of Adam,” Ps. 90:3. [563]Ver. 23. The assembly house. בֵּית מֹוֵעד, the house of rendezvous, of gathering. It suggests the frequent phrase gathered to the fathers, gathered to his people. All such language must have come from some idea of death or Sheol being a place of waiting for something to come after it. See Lange Gen., Note 585. [564] Ver. 24. Prayer is nought. The translation given of the whole verse is neariy that of Renan: Vaines prièrs!—il étend sa main; A quoi bon protester contre ses coups? אַךְ לֹא־בְּעִי. The negative לא, here, seems to be a qualifying rather than an impliedly asserting particle. It is joined with בְּעִי, prayer, like our inseparable negative syllable in, im, un; as in לֹא חָסִיד impius Ps. 43:1 לֹא עָז, infirmus Prov. 30:25; לאֹ אִישׁ, without men, uninhabited, ἀπάνθρωπος; לֹא דֶרֶךְ, without a way, invius, ἄπορος, ἄβατος, wayless, trackless. It is a case that is prayerless, he would say, that is, where prayer is of no avail; the substantive verb understood: It is a prayer that is no prayer, like the Greek πόρος ἄπορος. For the other view which resolves the word into parts, בְּ and עִי, see Delitzsch. [565]Ver. 24. In each man’s doom… their cry. It is a case where a distributive singular in one part corresponds to a plural pronoun in the other. Our own tongue admits it. But what authority for giving it this turn, or inserting the words “of what avail,” or, a quoi bon, as Renan does? It is because of the אִם, leaving the question unanswered, or making what is called an aposiopesis,—a silence that leaves the answer to the thought as the most expressive way of asserting its unavailableness: “what if they do cry?” It occurs in all passionate or animated language, but especially in the ancient. “If it bear fruit,” Luke 13:9. There is nothing more there in the Greek; but the silent answer is all the more expressive on that account. “He that planted the ear (Ps. 94:9), shall he not hear? He that fashioned the eye, shall he not see? He that teacheth man knowledge”—There it closes in the Hebrew, but the answer is admirably given in E. V. in italics: “Shall he not know?” Shall the source of knowledge be unintelligent? For a each of them (בְּפִידוֹ in his own special doom),—what theh?” There is, however, nothing here like an arraignment of God for injustice or cruelty. It is simply stating the inevitableness of death as the common doom. It is in this way no harsher than Gen. 3:19, and Ps. 90:3. The fem. לָהֶן may be a mere matter of euphony to avoid the harshness of final ם before שׁ in שׁוּעַ (see the Sepher Ha Rikma or Hebrew Grammar of Jona Ben Gannach, Sec, VI., changes of מ and ן, pa. 37, where he gives a number of analogous examples). We have examples of להן for להם Ruth 1:13, of הנה for המה 2 Sam. 4:6. [566]Ver. 25 Have I not? אִם לֹא is equivalent to a strong assertion; but the interrogative form is the more pathetic. [567]Ver. 25. Grieved, עגמה. This verb occurs but once. The context, however, leaves little doubt about it, though we get no help either from the Syriac or the Arabic. [568]Ver. 26. Evil came…darkness came. The repetition of the same word, both in the Hebrew and in the English, increases the force and pathos. [569]Ver. 27. Bowels boil. This may mean mental affliction (bowels put for the feelings), but it is easier taken literally. [570]Ver. 28. Mourning I go; or, with darkened face I go. The key to this obscure verse is to be found, we think, in Jer. 4:28, where a day of trouble is thus described by the same verb, קָדְרוּ הַשָּׁמַיִם מִמָּעַל, the heavens are darkened above. The sense of mourning in קדר comes from that of obscuration. The sunlight denotes joy and happiness, as in Eccles. 11:7, “sweet is the light, and pleasant to the eyes to behold the sun.” The sense of the words put in brackets are really included in the idea of הלכתי. The second clause seems abrupt and disconnected, but this is what is to be expected in such a passionate strain. [571]Ver. 29. Howling desert dogs. It is some hideous animal that makes a wailing melancholy sound, and that is all that can be determined from Bochart’s long discussion. The word in the second clause may be rendered ostriches, but the idea of desolation intended is far better given by owls, as in E. V.; at least to our modern conceptions. [572]Ver. 30. My skin is black above. See remarks on מעל in Note 10, Ver. 17. The contrast there was between bones and the more interior parts, nerves or sinews. Here it is between the skin above, and the bones as the interior. It may be rendered my skin upon me. [573] Ver. 31. My harp, etc. The exact nature of the musical instruments here mentioned, it is now very difficult to determine. An objection is made to rendering עוּגָב, here and Ps. 150:4, by the word organ. It is however a wind instrument, and may, therefore, be a combination of pipes; or organ may be taken for any compound instrument, complex or simple. The single pipe was a shepherd’s instrument, and hardly corresponds to our idea of the dignity of Job. It may be said, however, that a seeming exactness may sometimes fail as a translation by destroying the very impression intended to be made. Renan, we think, exemplifies this. Ma guitare s’est changée en instrument de deuil; Mon hautbois ne rend que des sons de pleurs. Something antique is needed, yet still enough understood to give the effect intended, without marring by a lowering familiarity. In general, however, no translator excels Renan in purity and taste. [574]Ver. 1. Yes. We cannot suppose that the commencing words of this chapter come directly after the closing words of the 30. There is no inconsistency, but certainly a change of style, indicating a silent meditation for a few moments, and then a sudden resuming with the thought to which it had led him. Thus regarded, the starting yes, or something equivalent, is nothing more than the expression of such a resuming. The need of it in the Hebrew was compensated, virtually, by the feeling of the context, and, perhaps, by look, tone, or gesture. [575]Ver. 1. For mine eyes. Not as a party with whom the covenant is made, for that would require עִם, but rather as the evil or enemy against whom Job had made a solemn compact with God. Hence the language that follows—how could I, etc. [576]Ver. 1. How then? It is the strongest denial. Why, as commonly rendered, is too tame, as though simply asking what reason could I have? [577]Ver. 2. Could I expect. These words in brackets are but the filling up of what is clearly implied. [578]Ver. 3. A vengeance strange, נֶכֶר. See the same segolate, only with the O vowel, Obad. 12. The primary idea of strangeness adheres in the word, but giving it a bad sense as suggestive of the awful, the sudden in calamity. There is the same word in Arabic, with the O vowel, and used precisely as this is here and in Obadiah 12. For clear examples see Hariri, Seance xiii., p. 153 (De Sacy, Ed.) xvi., p. 188, xxiv. 288. It occurs in the same sense in the Koran; as in Surat lxv. 8, xviii. 86, where it is joined with the most severe word for punishment: “He shall visit him with a strange (nukran) or awful penalty.” In Surat xviii. 73 it is, in the same way, associated with the crime of murder: “Hast thou slain an innocent person, then hast thou done a thing (nukran), awful, strange.” Compare the very similar language in the Anima Mundi of Timæus the Locrian, 104 E: τιμωρίαι ξέναι, “strange vengeances,” the fearful nature of which is shown in the context. Compare it with ξένου, 1 Pet. 4:12. [579]Ver. 5. Ways of. This is implied in the metaphor: vanity. The Hebrew שָׁוְא denotes generally what is most false and vile, the good for nothing as opposed to the sound or the true. We have become accustomed to our word vanity in its usual Scriptural rendering, and as thus understood nothing could be better adapted here. [580]Ver. 6. So weigh me God. It is the language of adjurative appeal, like the words “so help me God,” “God do so to me,” etc. The most concise rendering, therefore, is the clearest as well as the most forcible. The reader need hardly be reminded that weigh and know are both to be taken as the 3d pers. Imperative. [581]Ver. 7. Or soul hath strayed. Lit.: Or my heart has gone after mine eyes. לב here, as in many other places, denotes the will or active reason, rather than the more feeling. It is what Socrates calls the reversal, or turning upside down, or wrong end foremost, of human nature, indicating a dire catastrophe: the reason following the sense, and submitting to the sense instead of controlling it. [582]Ver. 9. By woman; or, on account of, as על may be rendered. [583]Ver. 10. Grind. The commentators generally make an unnecessary display of learning here. [584]Ver. 10. Humble her. The rendering here best corresponding to a Scriptural expression עִנָּה אִשָּׁה, Deut. 22:24, 29; Jude. 19:24; 20:5; Gen. 34:2. The servile idea, however, is the main thing. The other is indicated as a mere incident to it, and there was less indelicacy in the language than would now he felt. But would not this be a great sin in Job, to think or utter such a wish? No commentator treats such questions more purely and judiciously than the Puritan Caryl. After admitting that there was wrong and rashness in such language, he goes on to speak of it as the “strongest expression of the retributive or retaliatory idea (the lex talionis: as he hath done to others, so be it done to him) which, in itself, or as brought about in the causative or permissive providence of God (2 Sam. 12:10; Hos. 4:12, 13, 14) is the very essence of justice.” “But holy Job,” he farther eays, “did not strictly wish his wife’s adultery. He speaks thus to show that by the law of counterpassion he deserved to have suffered in such a way had he himself been guilty. An adulterous and unfaithful wife is a fit affliction for an adulterous and unfaithful husband. Breach of the marriage covenant is a due reward for marriage covenant breakers.” [585]Ver. 11. Of foul intent. זִמָּה primarily means purpose, intent, but is mostly taken in malam partem, like the Latin facinus, which is, etymologically, a deed or doing, but in usage denotes a bad deed, an enormity. So the Greek ἔργον unqualified, or when joined with μέγα, is taken in a bad sense, μέγα ἔργον being equivalent to κακὸν ἔργον;—a most severe satire which language, in its unconscious formation thus casts upon human nature. It is nothing less than an implication that the majority of human acts, especially the great and notorious, are so surely evil that the word becomes a synonym for the idea of crime. The same linguistic law affects this Hebrew word. It is equivalent here to an act done feloniously, or with malitia,—malice prepense—as our law calls it; not so much, however, in such a case as this, with the idea of passion, or hatred, as with that of evil design, or depravity, of any kind. [586]Ver. 12. A fire consuming. It is quite common in the Scriptures to compare this sin to a fire. See Prov. 6:27, 28, 29. The language there is, most likely, derived from this older Scripture. For the richest illustrations of the way in which it consumes every thing, body, estate, honor, dignity, conscience, and, finally, the very soul itself, see Caryl, Practical Remarks on the passage. [587]Ver. 12. The lowest hell. There is more of literality in it than commentators express. See remarks on the word אֲבַדֹּון Note 5, ver. 5, chap. 26, and Excursus VI., p. 20. It may be taken here as strong hyperbolical language, like that in Deut. 32:2, תַּחְתִּיוֹת שְׁאוֹל, instead of confining it to the mere etymological sense of loss or destruction. It is entire destruction, body and soul, in the world of destruction. The words reach there, whatever measure of force or of idea Job put upon them. [588] Ver. 12. Killing. תְּשָׁרֵשׁ here can hardly be confined to the sense of uprooting, tearing up the roots, eradicans. It would be out of harmony with the figure of the consuming fire which is the subject of תְּשָׁרֵשׁ as well as of תֹּאכֵל. It is rather the fire of lust, killing the root as well as the branches. So Merx very happily renders it: Das alle Frucht mir in der Wurzel tödtet; whilst most of the later German Commentators, like Umbreit, Schlottmann, Ewald, Delitzsch, Dillmann, Zökler, destroy the metaphor by giving the sense of uprooting, or rooting out. It might have been seen that the preposition ב in בְּכָל was in the way of this. It must either be regarded as redundant, or it denotes some deadly influence in or upon the increase—not uprooting, but killing it in its root, bringing death into the very root of all prosperity, whether belonging to the outward or the inward estate, all of which may be denoted by the word תְּבוּאָה, revenue, income. In such a wide way is it used, Prov. 18:20, “the income or fruit of the lips,’ תְּבוּאַת שְׂפָתָיו, or what a man gains or loses by his talk. Here, as Caryl well says, it denotes everything which may be called worth or value in a man, not only outward estate, but honor, fair repute, spiritual dignity. Of all this the very roots are killed, burnt out by this fire of hell. It “leaves neither root nor branch.” Comp. Malachi 3:23. [589]Ver. 13. Serf. עבד here is not a slave or bondsman bought with money. Neither, on the other hand, is he, probably, a perfectly free hired laborer. The context seems to intimate a vassal, or client, under the jurisdiction of a superior lord. [590]Ver. 13. I spurned. It can hardly be rendered in any other way; and yet it is a question worth noticing why the future form is used here instead of the preterite as in אם הלכתי ver. 5 above. The only answer is that the verb for despising is more inward or subjective, and that there is denoted here disposition, state of soul, intention (looking to futurity) rather than a single outward act as is expressed by the other word, though apparently in the same grammatical connection. It is also more conditional or hypothetical: if I should ever have been so deposed. The keeping this idea in mind will explain changes in the Hebrew tenses which otherwise would seem wholly arbitrary. [591]Ver. 13. Before me. עִמָּדי, in the second clause, confirms the opinion expressed above that this is the relation of lord and vassal, in which the former could not be sued by the latter as an equal party in an outward court. In such a case it would have been עִמִּי instead of עִמָּדִי, as Delitzsch well observes on the authority of the Talmud. The preposition עִם would denote litigation with; עִמָּד may be rendered apud, penes, at my own tribunal, in the lord’s manor court where he sits as judge, not as party. The claim that Job makes here is stronger on this account: He rendered justice, he listened to the complaints of his vassal, even against himself, though no outward law compelled him to do them justice. בְּרִבָּם may express either kind of interpleading. [592]Ver. 14. To judgement. Implied in יָקוּם אֵל. See Ps. 7:7; 9:20; 3:8; 17:13; 68:2. [593]Ver. 15. One common mother—one common source or origin. Make אחד the subject, and refer to Malachi 2:10. See Delitzsch. The LXX. and Symmachus take it as agreeing with רֶחֶם. There is no need of the article. This Delitzsch admits, and also that it may express unity of kind rather than a numerical oneness. בטן can only mean the womb as place; רֶחֶם as a derivative from the sense of loving, cherishing, fovens, denotes maternity in general. [594]Ver. 16. Poor men’s want. חֵפֵץ, desire, purpose. It might be rendered here, prayer. [595]Ver. 16. Kept aloof. The subjective future אמנע, indicating disposition, or rather aversion. See Note 16, Ver. 13. [596]Ver. 16. To fail; with looking for relief and disappointment. See Lam. 4:17. Our eyes fail for our help, that is, with looking for it. [597] Ver. 18. Made me his support. גְּדֵלַנִי.This is variously rendered: Umbreit, Ewald, Delitzsch, Zöckler, Dillmann, wuchs er mir, he grew up to me, as if we should say concisely in English, he grew me up. Schlottmann, erzog ich sie, for what he takes as the literal, sie wuchs mir auf. This is very similar to the rendering, he grew up with me, which some give; as Umbreit, who thinks it may stand for גָּדַל עִמִּי. That would resemble 2 Chron. 10:8, where it is said of Rehoboam’s young companions, גַּדְלוּ אִתּוֹ who grew up with him. But there the preposition makes a marked difference. Had it been גַּדְלוּ אֹתוֹ the cases would have been similar. The Piel reading has been proposed, גִּדְּלֵני (Olshausen) er ehrte mich, he magnified, honored me. That however gives too strong, and at the same time, too limited a sense. Growing up with me, or to me, would denote the relation of foster brothers rather than that of patron and ward. Although it would be rare, there would be nothing in the way of keeping the Kal form, and giving it the sense of esteeming great. In this it will agree with the Latin magnifico, and the Greek μεγαλύνω, which are both used in this way sometimes. The nearest resemblance to it, however, would be found in the Greek αὔξω, αὐξάνω, which is intransitive primarily, like גָּדַל or גָּדֵל, but becomes transitive with an object of the person, and the sense of esteeming great; hence of honoring; celebrating as a nurse, or patron. See Oed. Tyr. 1091: σὲ καὶ τροφὸν καὶ μητέρ’ αὔξειν. Allied to this is the version above given, to esteem great, that is, rely upon as his support. There is an impassioned eloquence in this irregular burst from the hypothetical to the direct asseveration, as though the thought of what he had truly done to the orphan and the widow would, not allow him to pass on without this vehement parenthetical statement. [598]Ver. 18. Earliest dawn of life. The literal Hebrew: from my mother’s womb, is evidently hyperbolical. As far back as I can remember was I a guide to the widow and a friend to the orphan. [599]Ver. 19. If e’er I saw. Another subjective future in אֶרְאֶה. See Note 16, ver. 13, and 22, ver. 16. If I could bear to see it—have the heart to look upon it. [600]Ver. 20. When. This is generally taken as a separate hypothetical asseveration with אִם understood: “If from my lamb’s fleece, etc.” There is, however, not only no need of such an ellipsis, hut it actually destroys the pathos as well as the grammatical simplicity of the passage. It needlessly makes two asseverations out of one act, the second clause being simply a touching illustration of the effect of the beneficence mentioned in the first clause and the verse before. It is the feeling of the soft, warm, comforting lamb’s fleece, that makes the shivering loins pour out their blessing on the giver. The conjunction ו may indicate almost nay kind of connection, time, reason, inference, comparison; or it may be merely copulative. The spirit of the context here demands the first. when he felt the lambs’ wool it warmed him into gratitude that could not refrain from pouring itself out in benedications. This mode of taking it also agrees best with the Hithpahel יִתְחַמָםּ [601]Ver. 21. The gate. The place of Judicial proceeding. The helper is some corrupt ally among the judges. [602]Ver. 24. Coined gold; rendered generally the pure gold, or fine gold. See Note on כֶּתֶם chap. 28, ver. 16. [603]Ver. 25. Rejoiced. Subj. fut. see Note 26. [604]Ver. 25. My hand. This is not a tautology. The first joy relates to the abundance, the second to the self-acquisition. [605]Ver. 26. If e’er I saw. אֶרְאֶה. subj. Fut. See Note 26. Conant calls it here the Future, or Imperfect of repeated action. But it comes to the same thing. Repeated action expresses disposition, tendency, what one is wont to do, and so demands the tense of continuous or unfinished action. [606]Ver. 27. In adoration. This is certainly implied whatever may have been the mode. But it is clear enough. The barely touching the hand to the mouth is just the gentle, silent act which would be prompted by a rising thought of adoration. The idea of throwing a kiss is a trifling modernism. It implies submission—silence, rather—laying the hand upon the mouth. If any kind of worship, except to God, could be thought blameless, it would be Sabæism in such a gentle form. Job’s selecting this, therefore, shows how far he was from the first thought of idolatry. [607]Ver. 28. Even that, or that too,גַּם הוּא, light as it might seem, would have been a sin, and one to be ranked in enormity with adultery, Ver. 11, and called like it עון פלילים, or פלילי. It would have been not simply impiety, but falseness—express or implied violation of covenant by which a national being is bound to God (בְּרִית or religio) like that of the marriage vow. There is suggested the same idea here that appears elsewhere in the Old Testament, and especially in the Prophets, of the affinity between the sins of adultery and idolatry. [608]Ver. 28. To God above, מִמָּעַל. However enticing the conception, that would be the enormity of it, namely, falseness to Him who is above the heavens, and “putteth His glory upon or above the heavens,” Ps. 8:2; ‘Who looketh down (stoopeth down הַמַשְׁפִילִי לִרְאוֹת), to see even the things in the heavens,” Ps. 113:6. Delitzsch’s rendering geheuchelt, plays the hypocrite, fails to meat the idea. [609]Ver. 39. No, no (οὐμενοῦν). Another of those impassioned outbreaks, driving the speaker from the more even hypothetical style of denial. See Note 24, ver. 18. He will not even allow it as a supposition that he could have done so. In such a case, not only acts, but words and thoughts of evil were kept under strictest guard. The same breach comes again, Ver. 32. The irregularity increases with the passion. Sentences are commenced and left unfinished; a vehement protasis has no apodosis; strong parenthetical appeals every where break in, and when the general vindication is resumed, it is in another strain, and apparently lacking any direct connection with what preceded the broken utterance. It has led some commentators to talk of interpolations and displacements; and, what seems most strange, this is often done by those who are fondest of characterizing the book as “a work of art,” and who have most to say, in a patronizing style, of “the genius of the old Dichter.” The exceeding eloquence of the chapter is in these very irregularities. They are evidence of the highest art, or rather of that reality of which we have spoken as transcending all art. An evidence of this is the difficulty of putting it into English, and especially of giving it a right grammatical punctuation,—there are so many sentences apparently unfinished, and from which the speaker seems driven by the strong and wayward current of his conflicting emotions. The two most impassioned dramas in the world’s literature are the Lear of Shakespeare, and the Œdipus Coloneus of Sophocles. In neither of them do we find anything that, for emotional eloquence can be compared to this vindicatory protest of Job. [610]Ver. 32. The Stranger. This first clause of ver, 32 may be taken as a continuation of what was said by the “men of his household,” to whose testimony he appeals in the preceding verse. The 2d clause also (my doors,etc.) might be regarded as the same, in spirit, as though it had been, “his doors he opened,” etc.; but Job’s vehemence confounds the persons. [611]Ver. 34. Scorn of families. מִשְׁפָּחוֹת, families, is used for men of families,—men of rank, of birth, in distinction from the common multitude, or הָמוֹן רַבָּה. Some take כי as the apodosis: Then let me dread, etc.; but there is very little ground for this in the particle, and what follows, if taken as apodosis, would be beneath the gravity of impressive adjurations: “If I have committed these crimes, then let me fear the great multitude, and the contempt of families, and keep to myself.” Conant and others renderהמון רבה the great assembly, as though it meant some great judicial proceeding, but the words do not favor this. We expect something different, if there is to be an apodosis at all. Had none been expressed, it would still have been most impressive, as in other scriptures, where it is left in silence to the moral judgment. There is, however, an express apodosis, although it does not come in until several verses after. In his wrought-up state, the speaker breaks off again, as he had done twice before, with an impassioned cry that could not wait: O why continue such appeals, why vindicate myself instead of calling on my accusers for their proofs,—and this leads immediately to what follows, Ver. 35, “O had I one to hear me now.” [612]Ver. 35. Behold my sign. my signature, or my writing; the letter תַּו being put for the alphabet, not for the sign of the cross as made by one who could not read nor write,—a custom which was long afterwards. Our translator regarded it as equivalent to תאוי my desire, but this makes a feeble sense, and is generally rejected. [613]Ver. 35. Let him write. The preterite כָּתַב is really connected with יתן above: O that he had written—would that, etc., equivalent to imperative, 3d pers. [614]Ver. 36. On my shoulder. Not, as some think, because of its supposed weight, whether actual or moral; but rather to give it a conspicuous position; or it may have been some ancient form of challenge. [615]Ver. 37. The number of my steps, or of my steppings, indicating a firm and steady walk. No irresolution; every step visible and capable of being counted. No shrinking and hiding away like Adam (see ver. 33). Very bold in Job, but very sublime. What there was in it that was wrong he sees afterwards, and most penitently confesses. [616] Ver. 38. Against me cries: either on account of injustice in obtaining it, or on account of oppression to those who have cultivated its soil. The second idea is most evident in the second clause. Note again the Fut. Subjective, תזעק and יבכון, repeated, constant action. The weeping is that of the unrequited serfs, or hired laborers who have ploughed its furrows and watered them with their tears. This is strengthened by the word יַחַד, altogether, everywhere alike, o’er all its furrows. Compare Jas. 5:4, “Behold the hire of the laborers that have reaped your fields, it crieth out.” There is taken another view, not so probable, yet still having much force, that the reference is directly to the harassed land itself, to which a greedy and ill-judging avarice would not allow its demanded rest. So Caryl (among other interpretations) with reference to Lev. 20:4, 5, on the land enjoying its Sabbath. It is, too, an old idea, and Job may have heard of it, which makes the earth the representative of Justice, on account of its paying back most faithfully what is given to it, and the labors bestowed upon it. Hence the explanation of the two names Θέμις and Γαῖα which Æschylus treats as a mystery. Prom. Vinct. 209, οὐκ ἅπαξ μόνον Θέμις Καὶ Γαῖα, πολλῶν ὀνομάτων μορφἡ μία. Justice and Earth, one form of many names. This idea of earth’s justice and impartiality is finely brought out by Virgil, Georgic, II., 460: Fundit humo facilem victum Justissima Tellus. It is very poetical, this representing the just Earth as weeping for the injustice done to her. It is, however, no less so if we regard the passage as referring to the laborers. The two ideas are closely connected. [617]Ver. 39. Or made its toilers pant. This may not sound well to those accustomed to a different mode of translating. Delitzsch and others render it: “I have caused the soul of its possessors to expire.” (So E. V.) The verb הפיח is also need to denote scornful treatment, as in Ps. 10:5, “all his enemies he puffeth at them,” יָפִיחַ בָּהֶם; the preposition there making but very little difference in the general idea. It might perhaps be rendered here, “I have blown away, puffed at, treated as wind, or worthless, the breath (that is, the laboring, panting breath) of the laborers.” These may properly be called בְּעָלֶיהָ from the idea of some right in the soil derived from having mingled with it their sweat and tears. [618] Ver. 40. Thus end. These words have been generally regarded as merely a note made by the author, or some very early transcriber. There is cited, as a similar case, the words Ps. 72:10: “The prayers of David the son of Jesse, are ended.” There is no doubt that this was an early practice of translators and transcribers. A formula just like it is attached to the books of the Peschito Syriac Version, Old Testament and New; very much as finis used to be put to the end of English books. There is,however, an impressive propriety in this last clause regarded as the closing words of Job himself, and bis using his own name this once adds to its force. As though he had said: “This is my vindication I have done; yon will bear from Job no more.” It is true, be speaks afterwards, but it is under remarkable circumstances, 40:3; 42:1–6, and even. then he seems to have reference to some former close he bad made (אחת דִּבַּרְתִּי) and repeats again: “I will add no more. If, however, it be decided that these words are put to the end of the chapter by a third person, either author or early transcriber, it would seem almost conclusive against the idea that in that ancient time there Immediately followed the address of Jehovah, chap. 38. Such an immediate answer from the thundercloud (though no such cloud or storm had been mentioned) would have rendered them impertinent and superfluous as a note to the reader. They bear the intimation that Job’s part in the drama is, for the present, closed, but only as suggestive of other human speakers (whether the old or some new one) who are to follow. Thus it furnishes a preparation for the speech of Elihu. If in our present copies, chap. 38., followed directly after ch. 31., we could not help feeling the incongruity of such a note, so made by author or transcriber, and it would long ago have been rejected as most decidedly out of place. [619]Ver. 2. Elihu. On the genuineness of this Elihu portion, see Introd. theism of the book, pa. 89, and especially the marginal note, pp. 26,27. [620]Ver. 2. Family of Ram. The genealogy of Elihu is here given, but not a word is said about the way and time of his introduction into the Drama. It is left to the reader’s imagination, along with other things, such as the probable place of the dialogue, the number of days and nights that may have been occupied with the discussion. How many persons may have come and gone during this time, or been present throughout, cannot be told. There is something in the 19:13–15–19 that seems to intimate an occasional presence and departure of kinsmen and others. It seems, however, almost certain that if some later hand had wholly interpolated this episode, he would have explained, in some way, the connection, had it been only to make it seem natural and consistent. The original writer would have felt no such responsibility, as he would have feared no such charge of inconsistency. He would have felt that the story was his own, to give in his own way, or as he received it, without an obligation to fill up any blanks or omissions as others might conceive them. [621]Ver. 2. More just than God. Umbreit renders: Weil er sich fur gerecht hielt vor Gott. Job, he says, had never claimed to be more just than God. Still his language suggested such an inference, and such a charge against him on the part of Elihu, even though a mistaken one. Delitzsch renders it, auf Kosten Gottes—“at the expense of God.” [622]Ver. 6. I shrunk away. The primary idea of זחל is that of an animal that creeps, or winds like a serpent, into his hole, and is reluctant to come out again. The cognate דחל becomes the common Syriac verb to fear instead of ירא. [623]Ver. 8. A spirit. The lowest and most naturalizing exegesis is compelled to give רוח here a high spiritual sense. If not the Divine Spirit, it is that in man which is most akin to it—the rational principle, or the Reason, in the highest sense that can be given to the word. See Gen. 2:7 [624]Ver. 9. Many years. רב is taken by most commentators with reference to age. The רַבִּים are not the great in rank or magnitude, but the πολυχρόνιοι—still, however, carrying the idea of superiority, as Conant says. [625]Ver. 10. Even me, Nothing can be more unjust, and, at the same time, more uncritical than the charge some German commentators delight to make against Elihu as an incoherent, as well as forward and impertinent babbler. He does, indeed, seem to repeat himself, but it is this very sincere diffidence that causes it. They are neither affected nor cringing apologies he makes. It is the hesitating feeling of a thoughtful yet modest young man, deeply interested in the discussions to which he has been intently listening, conscious of having something to say which is worth their hearing, and yet with a true reverence for persons not only older, but esteemed wiser, than himself. The introduction and the speech that follows are certainly most characteristic; and if this be proof of artistic merit, it may be said that, in this respect, there is nothing surpassing it in the drama. [626]Ver. 11. Given heed. Clearly intimating that he had been present during the whole discussion. [627]Ver. 11. Whilst. עַד, like ἕως in Greek, may mean until, as long as, or whilst. The latter seems preferable here as more suited to the context. [628]Ver. 13. Beware. פֵּן implying caution with an ellipsis of some verb—least ye do it—that is, take care, look out lest ye do it. Just so the Greeks use μή and sometimes ὅπως, Latin ne. See another example Gen. 3:22, פֶּן יִשְׁלַח: “lest he send forth his hand,” etc. [629]Ver. 13. We have Wisdom found: that is, discovered the truth in Job’s case. Elihu’s language in the second clause is a denial of this: You have not found out the secret; it is one of God’s mysteries. He crushes him, not man, or in the way of, or after the notions of men. [630]Ver. 14. Marshalled words. Bitter, hostile, controversial words. set in battle array, as it were. Such is the force of ערך. “There is nothing in the way of my answering Job carefully and candidly.” [631]Ver. 15. (Some power) hath taken. Here is another example of what grammarians unmeaningly call the use of the active for the passive. See note on מִנּוּ 3:3, with reference to Ps. 49:15; Luke 12:20, and other similar places. The same general explanation answers here. Most commonly, as we have seen, there is, in such cases, something terrible or revolting in the subject, or agent, which suppresses mention. Again, it is something perplexing, astounding, inexplicable, suggesting the idea of strange, mysterious influences. It would be just the place here for such an idiom: “Something seems to have taken away their power of speech;” referring to their strange and prolonged silence. The words in brackets are an attempt to give the idea implied in this particular idiom. Schlottmann would explain it by Gen. 12:8; 26:22, where וַיַּעְתֵּק gets the sense of moving on, from the action of putting up the pegs that fastened down the tent. Hence he renders it, not passively, but intransitively: das Wort war ihnen entwichen, “the world was gone from them; it moved away.” This, however, seems like putting a great strain upon the metaphor. It may apply to a tent; but it would be very strange as used of words. [632]Ver. 16. Though they did not speak. כִּי as causal, or as giving a reason, may be taken in two ways, according as the context demands. It may give a reason for, and then it is rendered for or because. Or it may be a reason against, and then it must be rendered though, or notwithstanding. See the numerous examples of the latter given by Noldius. [633]Ver. 16. But silent stood. The particle כי is repeated here, but the asyndetic rendering is more forcible in English, and therefore more true to the spirit of the passage. This picture of Elihu is most faithful to the life, and could hardly have come from anything else than an actual life. scene. The young man has been intently listening. His breast is alternately swelled with indignation at the treatment Job experiences from his professed friends, and with wondering awe at some of the bold language of the sufferer. Yet still he constrains himself. Even after they had ceased speaking, the reverential feeling felt to be due to his elders holds him silent, although his thoughts and emotions are becoming irrepressible. It is a very frigid criticism that overlooks the exquisite naturalness of this scene, takes no heed of the speaker’s unaffected embarrassment, and treats him as a mere stammerer, repeating over and over again, his platitudes and tautologies, [634]Ver. 17. I, too, אף אני. It recurs twice in the two clauses, not as the language of egotism, but of sincere modesty, hesitating, embarrassed, repeating, but with a consciousness of haying truth that had been overlooked, and an irrepressible desire to utter it. [635]Ver. 18– [636]Ver. 19. Breast—heart. The most faithful rendering of בֶּטֶן in these places is that which modernizes them, that is, translates by transferring the idiom as well as the words. The Hebrews and the Arabians both use this word (commonly rendered the belly) for the most interior seat of thought and feeling, like the bowels and the reins. See Note 2, ver. 2, ch. 15, and the references there made to Prov. 22:27; Heb. 4:12. [637]Ver. 20. Yes I would speak. Paragogic or optative future. [638]Ver. 21. Flattering titles give. The Hebrew כנה is almost identical with the Arabic verb of the same consonants, which is very common in the sense of naming, especially used of surnames, cognomina, or titles; hence denoting metonymy, or the expressing a thing by some other name than its own, or the usual one. In this way the noun becomes in Arabic a grammatical and rhetorical technic. So also among the Rabbinical Grammarians כִּנּוּי is the Word for epithet, periphrase, pronoun. [639]Ver. 1. And now, O Job. still the excusing, deferential tone so becoming in the young man. אוּלָם a strong adversative particle,—οὐ μὴν δὲ ἀλλὰ, LXX.—notwithstanding my youth. Delitzsch, Jedoch aber. My every word כָּל דְּבָרַי: “As though he had said, I hope I shall not speak one needless word,—not a word beside the business;” Caryl. [640]Ver. 2. Unbarred my mouth. Justice to this wise and godly young man, whom some critics treat so injuriously, demands an interpretation of his words that will not make them a flat tautology, such as he never could have intended. As shown by the context, פָּתַחְתִּי here means more than simply opening. It is an unclosing of what had been shut or barred. Caryl gives the key to it: “the phrase opening the mouth, here importeth that he had been long silcnt.” See Note 15, Ver. 16, 32. Unable to repress (see chap. 32:18,19) he opens it at last. The emphasis we have given to the word is justified by the particle הִנָּה calling attention to the fact of his venturing to speak at all in the presence of his elders. [641]Ver. 2. Gives utterance distinct. The second clause, rendered as is done by E. V. and others: “my tongue hath spoken in my mouth,” or my palate, would make a like tautology, or rather empty platitude. “How should a man speak but with his mouth,” asks Caryl in view of such a rendering. Umbreit remarks most characteristically: Es ist hier zu deutlich dass der verfasser unseres Buches den Elihu absichtlich als einen eingebildeten Schwätzer sich geberden lasst. He does not go with those who reject the Elihu portion, as Ewald does, but thinks that the author meant to represent the speaker as talking like a conceited fool. Our old Puritan commentator shows a keener insight into such shades of difference and matters of emphasis than many modern critics who underrate or wholly ignore him. He regards “speaking in or by the palate” as a phrase for well considered utterance, or the use of carefully chosen words. The idea is well supported from the fact that the palate is the organ of taste as well as of utterance, and that so universally in language is there this transfer of idea from the sense taste to the mental discernment (Lat. sapio. sapien, Heb. טעם): “So saith Elihu, my mouth hath spoken in my palate, I tasted my words before I spake them.” The word tongue, however, suggests another idea. The palate, in connection with the tongue and its motions, is an organ of articulate speech in distinction from the confused and the stammering. So Cocceius: disertis verbis, distincte et enucleate. Notwithstanding his diffidence and hesitation, he gets confidence at last to speak distinctly, and with what wisdom, this chapter and the following clearly show, notwithstanding the disparagement of Umbreit and Ewald. The attempts to give force to the language, aside from the two ideas mentioned, avail but little to save the tautology. Says Delitzsch: “He has already opened his mouth, his tongue is already in motion,—they are circumstantial statements that solemnly inaugurate what follows.” Schlottmann’s comment is to a similar effect. Dillmann, “die Zunge in Gaumen denotes that he is just ready to speak,” like the bow to spring, etc. [642]Ver. 3. My soul’s sincerity. Elihu is like Job in the consciousness of his sincerity, but his diffidence greatly adds to the interest of the picture. [643]Ver. 3. Purely. בָּרוּר taken adverbially may carry an intellectual or a moral sense,—speaking clear and distinct, or sincere and true. The last suits the passage best, though both may be included. [644]Ver. 4. Made me man. Elihu undoubtedly takes the words according to the obvious idea of Gen. 2:7. It is not mere breath, or breathing. It is the manner of making him specifically man, as something distinct from the formation of what may be called the human physical, whether by processes of typical growth, or by evolution, or by direct mechanical creation. “And God breathed into him and man became,” or, he “became man, a living soul.” Other animals are called נפשׁ חיה breath of life, but they become animated from the general life of nature, or the רוח “that brooded upon the face of the waters.” But it was in a more divine or special way, or by a peculiar fiat, that man became נפשׁ חיה. The emphasis is on the manner of becoming. Thus he became man. This higher life directly from God is his specific distinction, that which makes the species אָדָם, homo, in distinction from other animal tribes who are nothing but animals. See Lange, Gen. Am. Ed., pp. 174, 211 [645]Ver. 5. Array thy words. See 32:14,עָרַךְ מִלִּין. [646]Ver. 6. To God my being. לָאֵל. Renan, Devant Dieu je suis ton egal. But this can hardly be what Elihu means to assert, and it would have little association with the second clause. Literally, Godward, if we would imitate the conciseness of the Hebrew; as regards God, or in respect to the Divine side of our common being. [647]Ver. 6. Like thine own. בְּפִיךָ. The rendering of E. V.: according to thy wish, or thy mouth, etc., comes from regarding כ ,פי as separate and taking it literally. It is, however, only an intense form of the comparative particle occurring in a number of places in the old, and becoming quite common in the later Hebrew. כ and כפי are to each other like ὡς and ὥσπερ in Greek (as, and just as). Our translators were led to this to justify their rendering of לאל, “in God’s stead,” or as one representing him. But this is without authority in the usage of the preposition ל. Delitzsch, Zöckler, Conant and others render: “I am of God as thou art,” which is in substance the idea conveyed by the words employed: We stand to God in the same way and in both respects—soul from His spirit—body from the clay, or as a “lump taken from the clay.” Gesenius, Sicut tu a Deo (creatus sum). [648]Ver. 6. Divided. The Hebrew קרץ is used of the biling of the lips, Prov. 16:30, of the winking of the eyes, Prov. 6:13; 10:10; Ps. 35:19. Hence Lexicographers deduce as a primary sense that of cutting, which connects it with verbs of forming or creating. So Gesenius regards it, De luto decerptus sum et ego, imagine a figulo repetita qui vasculum formaturus luti partem de massa decerpet. Hence from it a noun in Syriac denoting a crumb, frustum, or piece of anything. This will be more easily accepted when we bear in mind how much this idea of division, separating one thing, or one element, from another, enters into the language of Genesis 1. Each step is a parting of something from that with which it before was blended—a rising above, or an evolution from. We need not be in the least afraid of this kind of language, of which some scientists are now so fond, as long as we hold to the idea of a commencing flat, or of an outgoing word. Whether through longer or shorter stages, man’s physical, man’s animal or earthly, is a cutting, out of nature; a Divine elevation, not saltus or leap. [649]Ver. 7. My hand. אֵכֶף occurs only here, but its etymological affinity to כַּף, and the parallelism presented to 13:21, where the second clause is precisely like the first here, and כַּף stands in it just as אֶכֶף stands here, would seem to put the matter beyond doubt. Of the ancient authorities the Targum and the Syriac give it the sense of burden., connecting it probably with כָּפַף to bend, or bow down. The LXX. render it hand, and with that agrees the great Jewish authority Kimchi. Raschi renders it כפייתי, and explains it by Prov. 16:26, אָכַף עָלָיו פִּיהוּ. [650]Ver. 9. Clean. חַף has the sense of smoothness, from the primary idea friction in the verb חפף. Hence חוֹף, the shore of the sea, the beach worn clean, by the washing of the waters. [651]Ver. 10. Grounds of strife, תְּנוּאוֹת See the word and its root, Numb. 14:34; 32:7. Elihu is now pressing Job with allusions to some of his rash speeches. Says Caryl: “Having ended his sweet, ingenious, insinuating preface, he falls roundly to the business, and begins a very sharp charge.” [652]Ver. 12. Too great for man. This rendering answers well to the comparative מ, and yet is not the same as the proposition: God is greater than man.” As a naked fact, or truism, that could hardly be what Elihu meant to assert; but rather that God’s acknowledged greatness made such language as Job had used, very unseemly. He is too great a being, to say nothing of his holiness and other attributes, to be addressed in that manner. So Delitzsch: Denn zu erhaben ist Eloah dem Sterblichen. [653] Ver. 13. By no word of his. More literally, that not a word of his he answereth, making דבריו the direct object of יענה, as 1 Kings 18:21, וְלֹא עָנוּ דָּבָר, and they answered not a word (the same Isai. 36:21; Jerem. 42:4; 44:20). This is the rendering of Schlottmann: Warum hast mit ihm du gehadert, dass kein einzig Wort er erwiedre— making a universal negative according to the Hebrew idiom. E. V. and the older commentators generally, render כי (2d clause) for or because: “Why strive, since he giveth no account,” etc. The view adopted by Delitzsch, Schlottmann, Zöckler, et al., making כי denote the ground of Job’s charge (why complain that he does not) harmonizes better with the verse following. Along with this view of כי, however, Delitzsch and Rosenmueller take דבריו as denoting, generally, deeds, dealings. But here, too, the rendering of Schlottmann is to be preferred for the same reason, or as agreeing better with the peculiar diction of ver. 14. Job complained that God did not answer him,—did not speak—19:7; 30:20. Elihu says God does speak to man. There is also some discussion respecting the pronoun in דבריו. Hirzel would refer it to אנוש, man generally. Some would understand it of Job, as though Elihu, in his earnestness, suddenly changed to the 3d person (his for thine), forgetting himself and speaking of Job instead of to him. The rendering given has the least difficulty. It makes Job’s charge and Elihu’s answer, each more clear and direct. [654]Ver. 14. Speaketh once, באחת, Delitzsch renders, “in one way;” but it comes to the same thing. As opposed to this בִּשְׁתַּיִם means more than once—repeatedly. comp. 40:5. [655]Ver. 15. Overwhelming sleep. Gesenius makes רדם an onomatope, from, the snoring (stertor) of heavy sleep—comparing it in this respect with the Latin dormio, and the Greek δαρθάνω. Sleep, however, thus regarded, is not favorable to the clear undisturbed dreaming or vision here demanded. Better take as primary the sense which the Niphal has, Dan. 8:18; 10:9; Psalm 76:7, of awe, astonishment (Vulg. consternatus) denoting a trance-like state. See the note on this word 4:13, and the reference there to the Introduction. Here it may be less clairvoyant, but it clearly denotes something different from ordinary slumber, and that ordinary dreaming which comes from a semi-consciousness of something affecting us from the outer world around us. On the other hand, the dreams here spoken of are supposed to come from within the soul itself, as from its deeper being, or as the voice of God in it, or from some plane above, when the sleep is of such a nature that the outer world is wholly excluded. [656]Ver. 17. To make man put away. The syntactical harmony of this verse is preserved, without any change of subject, by giving to the Hiphil הסיר a double, or an intensive causal force, such as it will bear, and which the context seems to demand. It may thus be regarded as having a double object, אדם and מעשה. [657]Ver. 18. To hide from man. The hero or mighty man (גבר in distinction from אדם). Some ellipsis seems demanded with גֵּוָה, such as look, way, or deed of pride. It seems to resemble the Greek ὕβρις, denoting haughty, reckless action, rather than mere feeling. So מעשה in the 1st clause would denote a bad deed. See Note 12, ver. 11, chap. 31, on Heb. זִמָּה, Lat. facinus, Greek ἔργον. Schlottmann gives scheiden, to divide, separate, as the rendering of יְכַסֵּה, but that seems to destroy the metaphor—covering, hiding, veiling, putting it away from his sight, or giving it a different appearance. [658]Ver. 19. His every bone. The Holem vowel in רוֹב shows the true rendering, making it exactly like 4:14. The other (רִיב) demands a rendering (strife) too metaphorical for the simplicity of Elihu’s language. It is, too, of an artificial sentimental kind, supported by no use of רִיב, if that be the true reading, in any other place in the Hebrew Bible. It always means a judicial strife, which would make a very far-fetched metaphor here, is applied to a pain in the bones. The other reading, moreover, is made very clear by comparison with 4:14—the multitude of his bones: an expressive mode of saying, every bone of the many bones in his body, great and small. Anatomy reveals how numerous they are, and, before precise anatomical knowledge, the number seemed, perhaps, still greater. It should be remembered, too, how abrupt the style is. Elihu seems moved by his own description, and his language becomes passionate, leaving out the verbal copula: His every bone—pain unceasing. [659]Ver. 20. His very life. This use of חיה, life for soul, is unusual, but the parallelism with נפש makes it clear. It is meant to be intensive: the very life which the food would sustain rejects it. [660]Ver. 20. Appetite. So נפש is used Prov. 6:30; 10:3, 27; 27:7; Isai. 55:2. [661]Ver. 20. Once-loved food. Literally, food of desire,—choice, favorite food. [662]Ver. 21. Before concealed from sight. So the Vulg. renders לֹא רֻאוּ as a relative or descriptive clause (which are not seen). In like manner Junius and Tremellius, and most of the old commentators. Delitzsch, Schlottmann, Ewald, take רֻאוּ directly: they are not seen. They either connect it with שׁפו, making two distinct assertions; his bones are bare, they are not seen; which seems a contradiction, unless by bare is meant wasted away, and so disappearing, which is not an easy view; or they take the Ketib here, שפי, as the noun subject: seine verstörten glieder, Delitzsch; seine dürres, Gebein, Schlottmann; ses os dènudés s’evanouissent, Renan. The old way of taking it as a relative clause is much easier than in some other places where that method of interpretation is freely adopted, but the strong argument for it is the harmony it makes in the parallelism: His flesh once seen, so plump and fair, now wasted out of view; his bones once closely covered by the flesh, now projecting, thrusting themselves out to view, as it were, “looking and staring at him,” as in Ps. 22:18 Umbreit very concisely and clearly: und kahl wird sein Gebein das man vorher nicht sehen konnte. For שֻׁפּוּ see, in Niphal, Isai. 13:2—used of a mountain bare and projecting. The corresponding Syriac and Arabic words have the same meaning. [663]Ver. 22.Perdition. שחת means more than the grave here, or corruption. The idea is not distinct, but it is that of some great loss,—something terrible connected with the thought of the going out of the life. [664]Vers. 22, 23, 24; see Excursus xi. in the Addenda, pp. 208, 209. [665]Vers. 22, 23, 24; see Excursus xi. in the Addenda, pp. 208, 209. [666]Vers. 22, 23, 24; see Excursus xi. in the Addenda, pp. 208, 209. [667]Vers. 22, 23, 24; see Excursus xi. in the Addenda, pp. 208, 209. [668]Ver. 25. In childhood. מ here in מִנֹּעַר is not comparative but causal. Delitzsch. [669]Ver. 26. His righteousness. Man’s righteousness objectively; but the righteousness of God, to whom the pronoun may be referred in the sense of God’s dealings with man in return (וַיָּשֶׁב) for man’s dealings towards him,—or righteousness and mercy for unrighteousness. See remarks on יָשְׁרוֹ Ver. 23, in Excursus XI., p. 210. [670]Ver. 27 It is his song. יָשׂר from שיר = שור; he chants or sings. It is now the commonly admitted view of the word. This deliverance becomes his song of holy rejoicing. Thereby as the Psalmist does, he tells men. “what the Lord hath done for his soul,” at the same time most humbly confessing his sin. Compare also 35:10; Songs in the night—or season of sorrow. [671]Ver. 27.Make my way perverse. Lit., pervert, or make crooked the straight. [672]Ver. 27. Requited. שָׁוָה: make like or equal, hence the sense of retribution. [673]Ver. 29. Time after time. The dual פַעֲמַיִם. Lit., two strokes, blow after blow, thus coming to be used for changes, turns (vices) vicissitudes—פַּעֲמַיִם שָׁלשׁ two times,—three times—repeatedly. [674]Ver. 30. That it may joy in light. Delitzsch: Und mein Leben labt sich am Lichte. Compare the expressions Ecclesiastes and elsewhere, in which seeing the light is equivalent to life. See Int. Theism., p. 5. לֵאוֹר for להאור, Inf. Niphal—be made light. [675]Ver. 31. Be still. The language would seem to intimate some impatience,—a look or gesture of dissent or appeal. There is much in this speech of Elihu that suggests the idea of a real life scene. See Int. Theism, pa. 39. [676]Ver. 3. Food. Lit., to eat. לֶאֱכֹל what is good to eat—not, by tasting, as Delitszch takes it. [677]Ver. 4. Our choice. בחר, to examine, but in order to choose. So the Greek δοκιμάζέν καὶ τὸ καλὸν κατέχειν, 1 Thess. 5:20. The paragogic futures, in both clauses, express aim, desire. [678]Ver. 7. Mighty man. גֶּבֶר. Elihu seems to have some admiration of Job’s bold, heroic bearing, though censuring him. לַעַג may refer to his haughty repelling of the charges made against him, or to his mode of speaking of God. [679]Ver. 8. Who joins, etc. Elihu does not charge this literally, but only as the tendency of Job’s language. [680]Ver. 10. To this. לָכֵן is more special than על כן. It is a reply to something just said, and prompting: an answer that cannot be suppressed. See the example, chap. 20:2, where it denotes Zophar’s haste to reply to Job’s bold speech at the close of the preceding chapter: לכן, for so—to such a speech as that, I make haste to answer. This is implied in שמעו: hear what I have to say to this—propter-ea. [681]Ver. 10. Away the thought. This is the answer he is impatient to give. חלילה, O profanum; a vehement protest. The best translation is that which gives it most strongly and clearly without attempting to imitate the almost untranslatable Hebrew construction. The thought of a God of wickedness is not to be tolerated for a moment. The idea of Omnipotence connected with that of injustice is still more horrible. It is to be protested against, not argued about. [682]Ver. 11. Yea verily. אַף אָמְנָם. The strongest particle of asaeveration=N. T., ἀμὴν ἀμήν. [683]Ver, 13. Who gave. “A mere viceroy might do wrong, but the Supreme Ruler is in a different position.” So Delitzsch and others. The argument, however, seems to be a higher one. It is simply the a priori idea of the moral sense. We cannot reason about it. So Abraham, Gen. 18:25; Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? חָלִלָה לָּךְ, far be it from, Thee Lord. [684]Ver. 14. Of himself. E. V. and others regarded אֵלָיו as referring to man. ישים לב, put his mind upon him, (προσέχειν νοῦν τινί), that is in the way of judgment. The interpretation given above is that of Grotius, and has since been generally followed. See Schlottmann, Delitzsch, et al. The statement is in proof of the Divine benevolence. His continuation of the universe is an evidence of it. [685]Ver. 15. Would expire. See Ps. 104:29: “When thou takest away their breath (principle of life) they expire, (יִגְוָעוּן gasp) and return to their dust,” The source of life must be the fountain of all goodness. [686]Ver. 16. O could’st thou see it! I Delitzsch regards בינה as the Imperative verb instead of a noun; but thinks the joining with it of the אם, makes it equivalent to אם תבין. E. V., and others, took it as a noun; but thus viewed it comes to about the same thing either way. It does not imply a reflection on Job as the E. V. rendering seems to do, but only an earnest wish that he could see things rightly. Elihu is very zealous and, at the same time, tender. This gives interest to his seeming repetitions, as it divests them of that tautological, prattling character, which some are fond of ascribing to him. It is a sufficient answer to all this jaunty criticism, that nowhere in the book, except in the address of the Almighty, are there to be found grander ethical and theological ideas: God cannot do wrong; it cannot be a despiser of right that binds the world in harmony; His very continuance of man and the world show this; O that Job’s sufferings would allow him to see it. Nothing in the speeches of Eliphaz and Zophar comes up to this. [687]Ver. 17. Restrain. חבש is not the usual word for governing, but such a sense here would be analogous to the use of the similar word, עצר to restrain, 1 Sam. 10:17, and אסר, to bind, Ps. 105:22. In the usual sense of binding, which it has both in Hebrew and in Arabic, it would be very appropriate here. Elihu has reference to God’s government in the most general sense, as the binding power of the universe. Injustice here would be anarchy and dissolution in the moral, as it would ultimately be in the physical World. [688]Ver. 17. Coudemn. תרשיע, pronounce wicked. [689]Ver. 18. Belial. בְּלִיָעַל. The idea is best expressed by keeping the well understood epithet-worthlessness. [690]Ver. 20. Rush they on. וְיַעֲברו, and pass on; the rapid motion of a transported mob. It has also the sense of attack, as Nah. 3:19; Ps. 124:4; Job 13:13, etc., in which cases, however, it is generally followed by על here unnecessary because the object is so clearly implied in the other verbs. Some take יסירו passively with אביר for its passive subject. The other way is the easier, as well as the more vivid. The sudden and stormy rising of the people, (יגעשו, Vulgate: in media nocte turbabuntur populi, et pertransibunt, et auferent violentem) is the cause of the tyrant’s dethronement. And yet, although it is the popular commotion which makes the visible and immediate cause, it is truly the hand of God which we may regard as the remote and unseen agency. Comp. Ps. 17:14, 15: מִמְתִים יָדְךָ, from men, thy hand, מֵרָשָׁע חַרְבֶּךָ, from the wicked thy sword. The truth has often had its illustration in modern as well as in ancient times. That Elihu means to represent it as God’s doing, notwithstanding His seeming neglect, or His forbearance, appears from the words לִֹא בְיָד, which can hardly have any other meaning, and is confirmed by the language of the verse following. [691] Ver. 22. No darkness. (Compare Sophocles’ (Œdip, Col. 280: φυγὴν δέ τοῦ μήπω γενἐσθαι φωτὸς ἀνοσίον βροτῶν. [692] Ver. 23. He needeth not, etc. This is the substantial meaning of the verse as given by Ewald, and as it is well esplained by Renan: Dieu n’a pas besoin de regarder I’homme deux fois, Pour prononcer sur lui son jugement. [693]Ver. 24. Cannot trace. Lit., no searching (perscrutatio), לֹא חֵקֶר, adverbial negative phrase, inscrutably. The fact is seen, as in the midnight popular commotion, but the real hand that does it is invisible. Comp. Amos 3:6, “Shall there be evil in a city and the Lord hath not done it?” [694]Ver. 25. In the night. The same imagery as in Ver. 20, suddenness and darkness; the hand unseen. [695]Ver. 26. AS they stand Lit.: Beneath the wicked He smites them, or if we take סָפָק as a noun—beneath the wicked their blow. This expression תַּחַת רְשָׁעִים, has been very variously rendered. תחת has been taken to mean, “as though they Were wicked, or as wicked, or in place of wicked, or after the manner (Delitzsch), nach Missethäter Art, or mit den Ruchlosen (Schlottmann); or רשעים is made the plural of רֶשַׁע on account of, or as the price of their transgressions. These are all secondary senses of תחת coming from its primary sense of under, very much as ὕπο is used in Greek. But may act the difficulty here have arisen, as in other places, from overlooking the simple idea that comes from the exact literality? It is a second example, as a sought to be expressed by the word in brackets. The first was an unseen blow; this is an open one. Beneath the wicked smites he them—right where they stand—the very ground beneath their feet. Or תחת may mean their support, that which is under them—thus meaning their very limbs. This latter idea is strengthened by a comparison of Habakkuk 3:16, וְתַחְתִּי אֵרְגָז, I trembled beneath me, in my underneathing, my limbs or supports. Just so Homer uses ὑπό; in Iliad 7:6 ὑπὸ γυῖα λέλυνται—his limbs relaxed beneath—not beneath his limbs; ὑπὸ used adverbially. Thus regarded as two varying examples, לילה in verse 25, and the words במקום ראים in the 26th, are in direct contrast. Such a sudden and open blow at the very foundations, suggests the מַהְפֵּכָה or upturning of Sodom and Gomorrah, which is Raschi’s idea. [696]Ver. 28. Before his face. The pronoun in עליו may perhaps refer to the sinner. In that case it should be rendered to bring upon him, the cry, the μήνιμα, vengeance or retribution, of the poor. See Homer, Iliad 22:358; Odyss.11:73: μή τοί τι θεῶν μήνιμα γἐνωμαι. [697]Ver, 29. Disturb. Primary sense of רשע, whence that of wickedness. It is in evident contrast here with ישקיט. [698]Ver. 30. Against. Negative sense of מן. [699]Ver. 30. Make a prey. Lit., from snares of the people. [700]Ver. 31. For, had he said. An elliptical expression of a wish, or of what Job ought to have done: Ah, had he said. The adversative sense of the כי denotes that he should have so said. It is, however, very difficult to preserve both in English, namely the chiding and the reason in the כי, and, at the same time, the regret and surprise expressed in the particle ה which is exclamatory as well as interrogative. האמר is not the infinitive Niphal, as some take it, but the Kal preterite and the exclamatory interrogative with Segol before a guttural with Quamets. [701]Ver. 33. On thine own terms. Lit., that which is from thee. [702]Ver. 33. Not as I. This can only refer to God, not to Elihu; but it makes a sudden change of person, which, though allowable in Hebrew, is too abrupt for a close English translation, without a preparation such as is supplied by the bracketed words, and say, in the first clause, or something equivalent. [703]Ver. 34. Or any strong and wise. Lit., strong, wise man. גֶּבֶר is not used superfluously here, or tautologically.אַנְשֵׁי לֵבָב may de taken as referring to those present who claimed the reputation of wisdom from age, position, or otherwise, such as the friends who had been contending with Job. Elihu appeals to such, or to any other one in the audience who might be a man of note, or strength, (גבר), though not professedly a חָכָם or Sage. He appeals to all men of character and intelligence. [704]Ver. 1. And Elihu answered. This chapter follows on so closely and directly in the spirit of the preceding, and especially of its concluding verses, that it may well raise a question as to the genuineness, or antiquity, of this intervening statement. [705]Ver. 3. Yes—thou dost say it. כי is here the particle of proof, as though Job had intimated some dissent by look or gesture. Such is the fair import of thy words; it cannot be denied. [706]Ver. 4. Thy companions. This cannot mean the three friends. As unlikely is the opinion of Delitzsch that Elihu means theאַנְשֵׁי אָוֶן of 34:36, and the אָוֶן פֹּעֲליֵ of 34:8, with whom Job is represented as joining himself. It is more probably a general challenge to all who might take his side in justifying such complaints. [707]Ver. 6. What dost thou to him? The expressions in the two Hebrew clauses are so alike that it would seem idle to seek diversity of translation. There is moreover a real impressiveness in the repetition: In either case, whether it be a single sin, as might seem implied in the preterite or aorist, אִם חָטָאתָ, or many transgressions, or a life of transgression, what doest thou to Him? Such a contrast seems intended. The variance in the verbs, —תפעל בו תעשה לו, would seem to be rather for the sake of parallelistic rhythm than as intending any difference in the appeal. Delitzsch: Wirk’st du auf ihn—thu’st du ihm. [708]Ver. 8. Son of man. It is in vain here to seek nice distinctions between איש and אדם. [709]Ver. 9. Oppressed. עֲשׁוּקִים here cannot be rendered oppressions. Amos 3:9 gives it no countenance, and Ecclesiastes 4:1 is against it, since, in the same verse, the word is used in its only proper sense of oppressed men. The noun however may be regarded as implied. The subject of the verb may in like manner be included. They do not cry out singly and apart, but from a great multitude of the oppressed. They cry out—men everywhere cry out, but not to God. [710]Ver. 9. (So sayest thou). The words in brackets simply express what is certainly intended by Elihu, namely to cite one of Job’s speeches for comment, whether rightly understood or not. This reference is to what Job says generally, ch. 24, and especially in ver. 12, where almost the very words occur. [711]Ver. 10. But no one saith. It gives the reason why God does not hear: The oppressed no more acknowledge Him than do the oppressors. A godless humanitarianism cannot expect his favor. Both parties being alike deficient here, He lets things work their own cure in such ways as are so graphically described, 34:20. It is, however, the strongest mode of saying that He does hear those who fly to Him for relief and consolation in the night of suffering. Elihu was a sound political philosopher, as well as a devout theologian. [712]Ver. 10. The night time. Metaphorically, the time of sorrow and oppression. [713]Ver. 10. Songs of praise. Such is the special meaning of זְמִרוֹת. “Songs in the night.” Comp. Ps. 42:8; 77:6; 119:15; 134:1; 16:7; Cant. 3:1. For a specimen of rich and glorious practical exposition read the old Puritan Caryl on these Songs in the Night. [714]Ver. 11. Beyond: more than. Some render מ from, instead of taking it as comparative: from the beasts, etc. On the metaphorical wisdom of the birds, see notes to 28:7 and 21. [715] Ver. 12. Thus is it. שָׁם (there) may denote condition as well as place and time: in such a case, or in such circumstances, or relations; as Ps. 133:3: כי שם for there (in such a state of things, that is, in the exercise of brotherly love) the Lord commanded the blessing. The reference is not to the mountains there mentioned. See also Hos. 6:7. The Hebrew order of the first clause of this verse is somewhat unusual. If strictly followed it would require this rendering: Thus is it that they cry—and He hears not— By reason of the pride of evil men. But in that way the English reader might miss the sense; since מִפְּנֵי, in the second clause, must clearly be connected with יצעקי they cry. To connect it with לא יענה as the ground of God’s not hearing, would be meaningless and absurd. [716]Ver. 14. Yes, even when thou sayest. אַף כִּי is often rendered much less, quanto minus, but here the sense is better reached by the rendering adopted. See Delitzsch, who renders it although. Notwithstanding what Elihu says about God’s not visiting, or strictly marking human wrong, he does not mean to teach the Divine indifference either to man’s evil, or to his suffering. דִּין לְפָנָיו; the cause is still before Him; judgment is with Him; in its own way and time it will appear. The reference is to what Job says, 23:8. [717] Ver. 15. Visits not. אַיִן has strictly a verbal sense, and is not a mere qualifying negative particle like לֹא. It simply denotes, it is not so, being the negation of the other verbal יֵשׁ, it is. Here, however, it is a more emphatic way of expressing the negation of פקד: It is not the case that His anger visits, expressing the general truth rather than a particular fact, or a particular denial. Its being followed by לא shows that אַיִן is not taken here by itself, for the prodosis to which פקד אפו is the apodosis, as E. V. regards it: “because it is not so, therefore hath He visited in His anger.” Such a view breaks up the whole argument of Elihu; as is also done by those who refer this, ver. 15, to God’s visitation of Job. Schlottmann leaves it indefinite, and Delitzsch regards it as doubtful. Renan refers it to God’s wider dealings: Mais, parce que sa colére ne s’exerce pas encore, Parce qu’il fait semblant d’ignorer nos fautes. Elihu is plain with Job, but at the same time tender, and cannot mean that God had not visited him as he deserved. [718]Ver. 15. Strictly marks. מְאֹד qualifies יָדַע to know (here in the sense of notice, similar to פקד visit), to know particularly. It cannot qualify פַּשׁ. Compare Ps. 130:2: If thou Lord should’st be strict to mark iniquities. [719]Ver. 15. Wide-spread iniquity. The Hebrew פּוּשׁ and its derivatives with the predominant sense of exuberance, extravagance, multiplication, taken in malam partem (licentiousness), gives the sense required here without going to the Arabic. See how it is used, Hab. 1:8; Mal. 3:20; Jer. 50:11; Nah. 3:18 (פָּשָׁה, Lev. 13:17, and a number of other places, of the spreading leprosy). So the Targum and Jewish commentators generally. The LXX. and Vulgate give it the sense of פשע, and there is good reason for regarding them as cognate words. פשע transgression is passing over, going beyond bounds—license, licentiousness. The idea is: God is not always exhibiting His special vengeance in the multiplicity of human sins. “He is not strict to mark iniquity;” or He would be always striking. Besides His long-suffering, so often spoken of in the Old Testament, there is the great דִּין or judgment, ver. 14, always before Him. No cause is really forgotten. But Job complains of Him because He lets “the wicked live;” see 21:7. There is a greatness in Elihu’s views unsurpassed by anything in the book outside of the Divine address, and that is a sufficient answer to those who would argue the spuriousness of this portion, because there is no mention of his being answered with the rest. [720]Ver. 2. Wait. Some appearance perhaps of impatience on the part of Job leading to a slight interruption, and then a resumption, as indicated by the scholium of continuance at the head of the chapter. זעיר ,כתר, and חוה have been pronounced Aramaisms, but they are all pure Hebrew as well as Syriac. [721]Ver. 2. For God. In justification of the Divine proceedings. There is nothing arrogant in this declaration of Elihu as some maintain. [722]Ver. 3. Unto the far. The double preposition מ and ל, gives a twofold sense, to and from, including here both ideas, elevating the thought to God (the Afar) and deriving thought from Him. The words easily bear this, since אֶשָּׂא may have the two senses of taking, or raising, according to the context and the preposition used. A very little change here gives that appearance of boasting and vanity which Umbreit and some others are so fond of ascribing to Elihu. It is, however, perfectly consistent with the unfeigned modesty of his opening. The word דֵּע or דֵּעָה (דעת) is not necessarily knowledge as science, exact or inexact, but often means opinion, view, sincere conviction. It may be cognitio, notitia, rather than scientia or ἐπιστήμη. This is the way in which the Rabbinical writers everywhere use דעת. Elihu says that the view he takes shall not be a narrow, or personal, or party one. He will aim to bring all his reasonings from that far-reaching, yet most near and plain truth, the unchangeable righteousness of God. This gives him confidence, and when this is understood all appearance of conceit disappears. [723]Ver. 3. To my Maker I ascribe the right. In ascribing to God the right, he can, without arrogance, speak in his name, and all the more confidently whilst using such tenderness towards Job. This helps to explain what follows. [724]Ver. 4. It is the all-knowing one that deals with thee. A comparison of this with what the same speaker says in the very same words, 37:16, puts it beyond doubt that God is meant. Even if regarded as a claim to inspiration, it would not be inconsistent with a true humility. If Elihu felt that he was speaking to Job the very truth of God, however learned, it would be false modesty in him to disclaim it. Therefore does he so affirm his sincerity in the next verse: לא שקר, there is truth in what I say: Through it, “the Perfect in knowledge speaks with thee;” if we may so render עִמָּךְ. This is quite different from the impression that Renan’s version would give, applying the words to Elihu himself. C’est une homme d’une science accomplie qui te parle. Schlottmann and Rosenmueller regard it as spoken by Elihu of himself, yet without boasting, and as only claiming what was due to the strength and depth of his convictions. They thus take תמים in its more primitive sense of integer, purus, etc., rather than as denoting perfection in the degree or height of knowledge. The old commentator Mercerus gives this admirably: De se dicit Elihu quod Job habeat hominem secum agentem integrum sententiis, et pure, sincere, ac ut par eat, sentientem, qui nihil sit adulteraturus, aut depravaturus in alienum sensum. The passage has been marred by the rendering is before thee, which cannot be obtained from עִמָּךְ. It gives a wrong impression as to the one of whom it is said, and of the spirit with which the declaration is made. Regarded as denoting speech (speaks with thee) it would be an inward rather than an outward communing; but as we have seen in several places, עִמָּךְ standing alone (or without any verb) denotes rather dealing with, and in either view would favor the idea of God being the subject intended rather than Elihu himself. It may be said, however, to come to nearly the same thing whether Elihu intends to represent God by the words תמים דעות, or himself as speaking to Job in His name. In either case it is Divine knowledge he professes to give, or “knowledge brought from afar” (ver. 3). [725]Ver. 5. Great. כַּבִּיר kabbir. It reminds us of the frequent Arabian doxology from the same root: Allah Akbar. [726]Ver. 5. Despise, ימאם, reject, overlook. Elihu presents the sublime contrast, or that general equilibrium in the Divine attributes which our science so much ignores: God’s attention to the most minute is well as to the largest things of His creation. “He numbereth the very hairs of our heads.” This is “the power of His intelligence,” (כח לב), force de son intelligence, as Renan renders it. It is a higher thing than His dynamical force. [727]Ver. 6. Let the wicked live. This is the literal rendering of יְחַיֶּה; that is, live on in their wickedness. It is not inconsistent with what Elihu says, 35:9, 10, 15, about God’s forbearance. This rendering is chosen because it would seem as though the word יְחַיֵּה had been used with direct reference to Job’s complaint, 21:7: “Wherefore do the wicked live, grow old, etc.? [728]Ver. 7. Takes not from. Lit., does not diminish; constant, steady vision, never relaxing. What follows about the righteous man, and his vicissitudes, has, undoubtedly, reference to Job, but not in the narrow way taken by the friends. Elihu does not charge him with gross outward crimes, such as “wronging the widow,” and “breaking the orphan’s arms” (22:9), but he sees the possibility that even one who has borne the character of the just (ὁ δίκαιος, ὁ καλοκἀγαθός) if placed in high station, “sitting with kings,” and greatly tempted to pride, may become selfconfident, and so fall as to need the chastisements of God, “whose eye is never withdrawn from him.” This “sitting on the throne with kings,” as an honored and consulted assessor or vizier, may have been suggested by what Job says himself very eloquently, but somewhat proudly (29:9), of the honors paid to him by people and princes. [729]Ver. 7. Sit in glory. לנצח is improperly rendered forever, like לעולם. It is not a word of time but of degree, completeness,—a. general superlative of excellence, or superiority. [730]Ver. 8. Bound in iron chains; either from the capricious tyranny of their royal or popular patrons, or from their own too strongly tempted pride. It is a supposed case, but one readily presenting itself to the speaker’s mind from what Job says, 29:9, of the favor he had once enjoyed with the people and the great. [731] Ver. 9. Their oversteppings: The most literal etymological sense of פִּשְׁעֵיהֶם. Renan: Par leur péchés, par leur orgueil. [732]Ver. 10. From evil they turn back. The word ישובון implies barely a beginning in the evil way. Whatever suspicion of Job Elihu here may intimate, it is very different from the gross and wholly unwarranted criminations of the three older friends, besides being stated as a mere hypothesis. But the striking distinction is the freedom from all exasperation, such as they show, especially Zophar and Bildad (see 8:2; 11:2, 3; 20:2). Elihu represents God’s dealings thus far as all proceeding from love, from that merciful “eye upon the righteous man,” which is never withdrawn, though sometimes leaving him to himself for a season, that he may be tried and gain self-knowledge. It reminds one of a touching passage in the Koranic Commentary of Al-Zamakhshari on Surat 18:75: Mohammed had committed a fault for which he had been severely visited. Says the commentator: “We have it from the Prophet, Allah bless him, that when this was revealed (Sur. 18:75) he prayed, O Allah! never again leave me to myself for the wink of an eye.” Al. Zam., p. 780. [733]Ver. 12. Without knowledge. Comp. 4:21. [734]Ver. 13. But those impure in heart. Theחנפי לב in distinction from the צדיק, or reputed righteous man tempted and disciplined, as described above. [735]Ver. 13. Such cry not. Another difference: They are not led to prayer and repentance. See 35:10. [736]Ver. 14. Their very soul. Soul is here in contrast with life in the 2d clause. Passages like it in the Proverbs would support the idea of spiritual death. Their life: their course of life. [737]Ver. 14. The vile. קְדֵשִׁים, the unclean, the obscene rather. Lit., those devoted to the obscene worship of Astarte, and other heathenisms. See the word Deut. 23:18; 1 Kings 14:24; 15:12; 22:47. Comp. also Gen. 38:21, 22. [738]Ver. 15. In his suffering. Schlottmann renders: in His compassion, referring the pronoun to God. This is a sense which עני will bear, but it would not harmonize here with לַחַץ in the 2d clause. [739]Ver. 16. Would He draw. הסית means literally to incite—either to or from—by sharp or by gentle means. The former is the more common, but the latter is to be taken here. Schlottmann: loct er aus—allures, entices. The general word, draws, attracts, seems better. [740]Ver. 16. Broad place: The favorite Hebrew figure forprosperity, as straitness, or narrowness for the reverse. [741]Ver. 16. With richest food. This is what is meant by the Hebrew מָלֵא דָשֶׁן full of fat, a figure not poetical in modern languages. [742]Ver. 16. Spreading of thy board. More literally, setting—that which is set down to rest upon it. נַחת from נוח to rest. Hiph. demisit, deposuit. [743]Ver. 17. But hast thou filled: if thou hast filled So Schlottmann takes it, conditionally. Elihu does not regard Job as one of these impure of heart, or “hypocrites in heart,” as E. V., renders it, or theחנפי לב of ver. 13. He however makes the supposition of what would have been had Job gone to that extent, and makes it the ground of warning in ver. 18. The word דִּין here, just like our word judgment, may denote Job’s judgment in the case, as some take it, or God’s verdict or sentence upon the wicked. In this latter view, which is preferred here, it may be transferred to the wickedness that causes judgment. Hast thou filled up the wickedness of the wicked (the measure of his judgment) then expect no mercy. “Judgment and justice,” instead of threatening, “will take hold on thee,” יתמכו, which Delitzsch strangely renders, “will take hold on one another.” He seems to have regarded it as an abbreviated Hithpahel: יתמכוּ for יתתמכו. The pronoun is not needed, it is so easily supplied. It can hardly be that דין is used of Job’s judgment in the one clause, and of God’s judgment in the other. [744]Ver. 18. For there is wrath. By comparingכִּי חֵמָה with the same words, used in a very similar manner, 19:29, it will be seen that this is a warning formula. Cautionary words accompany it in both cases; there immediately preceding, here immediately following. פֵּן is an elliptical particle of warning, or of calling attention, like the Latin ne, or the Greek μή with ὅρα (see to it), or δείδω, or some similar word understood; comp. Plat. Phædon, 69 A., ̓͂Ω μακάριε Σιμμία, μὴ οὐχ αὕτη ῇ ἡ ὀρθή κ. τ. λ.; Iliad I. 26, μή σε παρὰ νηυσὶ κιχείω, Odyss. V. 467 (δείδω understood; compare line 300) and other places. הסיתך with its usual sense of inciting to or from (hers to or against, because followed by ב) must have an indefinite or impersonal subject. Delitzsch and Schlottmann render it allure, as in ver. 16, but this would require חֵמָה for the subject which would be harsh (wrath alluring) even if the grammar would allow. It would, however, be giving a feminine subject to a masculine verb following, which is hardly defensible from the case Prov. 12:25. חֵמָה may, perhaps, be regarded as implying the subject of הסית, by reason of its representing the whole case. If the impersonal view does not satisfy, the subject may be regarded as impliedly in שפק, or that to which the warning refers: “Let it not stir thee up (the blow) against it (the blow itself). This would make the ב in שפק very easy, and perfectly grammatical. [745]Ver. 18. The blow. The places to guide us in determining the meaning of ספק = שפק, are ch. 34:26, 37. The idea of sudden striking is in both. In the second, however, hand is understood (clap the hand), or some other part of the body, as in Numb. 24:20; Lam. 2:15; Job 27:23, and that gives it the secondary sense of scorning or defiance. Blow, however, is the primary literal sense (evidently onomatopical, S. P. K.) and that seems here most fitting, besides being better adapted to יסית־ב,—against the blow, or the chastisement as Conant renders it. Schlottmann would give it the sense of mockery (zum Spott), Delitzsch of scorning (zum Höhnen, with reference to 34:37. These, however, would require that יסית be followed by ל instead of ב, as Dillmann remarks (see concordance of places). Delitzsch regards חֵמָה as denoting the anger of Job, but the comparison with 19:29, where it is used in precisely the same way, shows that God’s wrath is meant, and that כי חמה is to be taken independently. The drift of Elihu’s language is that Job has got to that point where he needs a caution, such as he himself gave to his monitors, 19:29. Beware of further defiance. He has reason to pray: “Keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins” (מִזֵּדִים, Ps. 19:14), from the defiant, unforgivable sin, מִפֶּשַׁע רָב, “from the great transgression.” [746]Ver. 18. Turn thy scale. The word ransom here (כֹּפֶר) is suggested to Elihu by his own language respecting the penitent sufferer, 33:24: “I have found a ransom.” The word נטה, Hiph. הִטָּה, to incline (transitively) or to deflect, is repeatedly used, elliptically and figuratively, in the sense of deflecting the scale in judgment. See Prov. 18:5; Isai.10:2; 29:21; Amos 5:12. The last case is most like this since we find them in close connection with this same word כפר. The verb thus used, might just as well, as far as grammar is concerned, have for its object the person favored, although the cases cited relate to the unjustly condemned. The context alone must determine whether it is a turning the scale in favor of or against; and, in fact, the one implies the other. Delitzsch gives יַטֶּךָ the sense verleiten, mislead, seduce, and makes the ransom refer to the hope of restoration. It must, however, have the same application here as in 33:24. It is something which God provides, not the sufferer. Job had been stripped of all, so that, as Delitzsch says, “any reference to his own riches,” as something that he could offer, “is out of the question.” In regard to the negative אַל, it is used in the same way as the Greek μή for οὐ where the declaration is a subjective one. It is not simply a denial of the happening of the event, but of its possibility, and so the particle is really dependent: It cannot be that, etc. There is, moreover, to be taken into the account the influence of פן above in making the clause subjective: as though repeated: take care lest a great ransom should not turn the scale in thy favor. The version of E. V. would demand יסירך in the clause above. [747]Ver. 19. Thy wealth its price! The word שׁוּעַ here used, may mean either wealth or a cry, as clearly appears by the respective contexts in which they are found. For the first see 34:19 (שׁוֹעַ), Isai. 32:18, and this place, where it seems determined by its connection with בצר, for which see Job 22:24, 26. The other usage is more frequent. The connection between the two meanings is not easily traced. שוע, to cry, implore, and its noun derivatives, seem like onomatopes: shuagh—sugh—sigh. Comp. the Syriac סוק used for the crying, bleating of the flocks, Jude. 5:16. As Job was utterly destitute, the reference must have been to his former vast possessions. All his camels and oxen, etc., could not avail as the price of this ransom. It is its spiritual value vainly estimated by the richest outward things. ערך, with the price for its subject, is used here precisely as in 28:17, in the attempted prizing of Wisdom: “Gold and crystals cannot prize it, give its estimate,” לא יערכנה. The price of redemption is far above rubies. [748]Ver. 19. Powers of might. Literally, the mighty of strength. כח does not mean opes here, or wealth, but has its literal sense—no wealth—no strength. [749] Ver. 20. The night. הַלָּיְלָה, with the article, is the night of death emphatically, as our Saviour styles it, John 9:4, “the night wherein no man can work;” see Ecclesiastes 9:5. Elihu alludes to Job’s having prayed for death, as appears in several places. The whole passage furnishes another of those cases where the closest adherence to the most literal rendering gives the best guide to the idea. The verb עלה, to go up, becomes used of dying (departing, going off) from the old idea of the spirit, or breath, going up to God, its source, and the body going down to dust. There is no reference here to the underworld, and the difficulty arises from a feeling of incongruity connected with the figure of going up, especially where the language is used of evil men. But there is in it no idea of going to Heaven according to the modern notion. It is simply a mysterious going off. Another seeming incongruity is made by תחת, the opposite to עלה, apparently. This is especially felt in the translation of Conant, which otherwise would seem to have much in its favor: Long not for that night, When the nations are gathered to the world below. Even where a word like עלה has lost its figure, as employed in some special applications, poetical feeling would be against its use in connection with a real opposite. But תחתם here means simply in their place, right where they stand, their very foundation, as in the examples cited, note to 34:26. The proof passages for this sense of עלה (dying, as going up, or off) are Ecclesiastes 21:7, where we have the idea without the word, and Job 5:26, and Ps. 102:25, where the very word occurs just as it does here; the Hiphil in Ps. 102:16, making no difference. In the first passage (Job 5:26) the incongruity alluded to is not felt as jarring with our modern conception, because it is said of a supposed good man, and it is in beautiful harmony with the figure of the sheaf going up to the garner, which overcomes the other image, in the same passage of going down to the grave. In Ps. 102:25,אַל תַּעֲלֵנִי (take me not up (not off) (in the midst of my days), the going up (or being taken up) means no more than the עלות in this place, though said here of many going up, or going off, in the night of death. The plural עמים, peoples or nations, is used here to make it the more impressive, and to give Job the idea of its being a general or common doom which he should not desire to anticipate. They are going off fast enough, this vast procession of the dead, disappearing in that night to which all human existence seems to lead. עמים the multitudes. It calls to mind Homer’s κλυτὰ ἔθνεα νεκρῶν, the farfamed nations of the dead (Odyss. X. 526, and other places); more numerous than the nations of the living. In the word לעלות, the ל of the infinitive may be taken as specificative: to wit, the going up, etc.; and so the second clause may be regarded as epexegetical of the first, or as in apposition with לילה: the night, I mean, in which the nations go up, etc. Delitzsch renders it: “Long not for the night to come which shall remove people from their place,” and seems to refer it to some great and special judgments, not to the general night of death. He has no authority for rendering תחתם from their place. Schlottmann more correctly, an ihrer Stätte, in or on their place, right where they stand, or just as they are. Comp. Ecclesiastes 11:3. [750]Ver. 21. Turn not, אַל תֵּפֶן. Look not; do not even set your face in that direction, give no countenance(פנים ,פנה) to iniquity. [751]Ver. 21. Thou choosest. That is, thou art choosing to turn in the wrong direction—towards sin, and away from God. It is a tendency charged upon him, but not actual sin. Elihu is very plain with Job, but at the same time judicious and tender. He desires his justification, 33:32. [752]Ver. 23. Who is it that assigns? Comp. Isai. 40:13, 14. [753]Ver. 25. With wonder gaze. Among the Hebrow verbs of sight, חזה may be regarded as more emotional, and more spiritual than ראה. It denotes sight with feeling, or an interest of wonder in the object, like the Greek θεάομαι, or the Latin specto, in distinction from ὁράω the merely visual, or θεωρέω which is more perceptive, that is, of facts and truths rather than of objects. [754]Ver. 25. Every man—from afar. The most common man, אנוש, cannot help seeing it in its remotest aspects. Comp. Ps. 19:1, and Rom. 1:20. [755]Ver. 26. Lo God is great. This declaration seems more frequent in Job than in any other book in the Bible, and strongly calls to mind the similar Arabian and Mohammedan doxologies. [756]Ver. 27. Who draweth up. Drawing is the more usual sense of the verb גרע, that of diminishing, seeming to come from its sense detraxit, but the rendering of E. V., maketh small, suits very well some parts of the process intended to be described. If we render it draweth, then the water drops must denote the substance drawn up, whatever it may be, and which becomes water drops afterwards. [757]Ver. 27. In place of mist. Gen. 2:6 puts beyond doubt the meaning of אֵד as vapor or mist, in distinction from rain itself which comes from it. But the ל has given trouble. “According to the vapor thereof,” E. V.; “with its mist,” Delitzsch; zu Regan läutert sich’s im Nebel Schlottmann; wenn er in Nebel sich gehüllt, Umbreit; Qui se fondent en pluie et forment ses vapeurs, Renan. But the vapor is the preceding state. Vive, in loco, in place of, is a meaning of ל, of which Noldius in his Concordance of particles gives a good number of examples. The one nearest to this is Gen. 11:3, bitumen for mortar, הַחֵמָר לַהֹמֵר, or הַלְּבֵנָה לְאָבֶן, brick for stone. Bitumen for mortar, or in place of mortar; the imperfect substance for, that is, as a preparation for the more finished; or mortar in place of bitumen, according to the reverse conception. Grammatically, the proposition ל would denote either of these according to the context. Here it would demand the latter—rain now in place of what was mist before the distillation. The pronoun in לאדו shows this—its mist—the rain’s mist, or that from which the rain is formed. The subject of יָֹזקּוּ, taken intransitively, is water drops. They distill into rain, that is, the water or vapor that was raised up called by the name of what it becomes. The primary sense of זקק is binding (whence זקים chains, ver. 8), compression, hence straining or condensation. They condense into rain, would be a good rendering if it would not seem to make Elihu talk too scientifically; and yet some such idea must have been in his mind. מָטָר may be taken, grammatically, as either the direct or the remote object of the intransitive verb: They distill, or condense, rain, or they distill into rain. There is really no great difficulty in the clause unless made, as is often done, by overlooking the directness and simplicity of the language. The general fact of the transformation is known to all, but our best science yet finds a mystery in attempting to trace the exact rationale of the process. “The law of the rain” (חֹק לַמָּטָר, 28:26) is yet, in some points, one of the secrets of the Divine חָכְמָה, as it was in the days of Job. [758]Ver. 28. The heavens. שְׁחָקִים is the poetical word for the skies, the high, attenuated expanse, from שָׁחַק attrivit, comminuit, made smooth or thin, as רקיע from רקע, to beat out like gold leaf, to spread out. See 37:18, and Ps. 89:7. [759]Ver. 29. Is there? This may be treated as a section by itself. After the general account of the rain comes a special description of the thunderstorm. [760] Ver. 29. The floatings, מַפְרְשֵׁי עָב. Comp. מַפְלְשֵׁי עָב 38:16, suspensions of the cloud. It is, in both cases, the mystery of the cloud hanging in the air, seemingly without support. We talk of gravity and think we have explained it. Gesenius gives to מפרש here the sense of expansion merely, as in Ezek. 27. It would then refer to it as stationary, or in a tranquil state, reminding us of Graham’s description: Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud. This sets the two phenomena in contrast and gives more force to the allusion to the gathering storm in the 2d clause. [761]Ver. 29. Thunderings of His canopy. תְּשֻׁאוֹת; see 39:7; Isai. 22:2. God is said to dwell in the nimbus, or thunder-cloud, as in a tent, or canopy. The word סֻכָּה strictly means a temporary booth, as a retreat or hiding-place. Comp. Ps. 81:8, בְּסֵתֶר רָעַם, in the secret place of the thunder, and especially Ps. 18:12, where we have this same figure of the booth or canopy: הֶשְׁכַת מַיִם עָבֵי שְׁחָקִים. [762]Ver. 30. Upon it; עָלָיו, upon the cloud, (עַל עָב), the nimbus. The pronoun is by many referred to God: He spreadeth the light upon himself; but there is no need of this. It mars the parallelism, and makes very difficult the rendering of the second clause, which then must be taken in the same way. [763] Ver. 30. Whilst darkening; Taken participially to denote the close conjunction of the two acts. Lit., and He covers, that is, with darkness, as the context demands. The object covered (not that with which he covers) in the roots or depths of the sea. The other rendering is, He covereth himself with the roots of the sea. This is grammatically harsh, and makes the English or German more difficult to understand than the simple Hebrew. Such a rendering, in both clauses, seems prompted by Ps. 104:2, “He covereth himself with light, although there is no personal or reflex pronoun there. But in that case the verb is עטה, which, more strictly than כִּסָּה, follows, in its government, the analogy of verbs of clothing, arming, etc. It is there, moreover, a description of creation, and there is no other object of the verb. Here the design of Elihu is simply to present phenomena, and the language, therefore, is demonstrative and optical instead of reflective. Some take the sense of the light (the lightning) covering the roots of the sea, so vividly that the bottom of the ocean is illuminated. No one, however, ever saw that, and it would have been wholly imaginative in Elihu, instead of an appeal to things visible, and conceivable by all. Again, the roots of the sea, say some, is the water drawn up, though once lying in the depths (ver. 27), and God has a robe of double texture woven of light and the waters, or the darkness of the waters. We may doubt whether the mind of Elihu in this grand optical description was in the mood for such a fine-spun conceit. Everything, too, both here and in the next chapter, goes to show that he spoke under the vivid emotion of an actual storm then making its approach in the distance. There is a contrast undoubtedly between the two clauses of ver. 30, but it is one which every black thunder-storm presents, especially to those who view it, or conceive it, in connection with the vicinity of waters. It is the bright blazing in the heavens, and the dark horror, as the poet calls it, which it makes upon the face of the sea. See how Virgil pictures the the two things together, Æn. I., 90—89, ——Micat ignibus æther,— ——ponto Nox incubat atra. Again Æn. III., 199—194: ——Ingeminant abruptis nubibus ignes,— ——Et inhorruit unda tenebris. So Homer’s Odyss. V., 294: ——ὀρώρει δ’ οὐρανόθεν νύξ,— And night rushed down the sky. [764]Ver. 32. O’er either hand. The Dual, בַּפַּיִּם. [765]Ver. 32. Doth he wrap. כִּסָּח has here both its direct and remote object, and the sense is unmistakable. The light here is the lightning. It is the figure of the slinger gathering up the cord around his hands, and taking a firm hold that he may hurl the weapon the more forcibly, as well as more surely. For that purpose he takes it with both hands. If it is plain, it is exceedingly sublime. [766]Ver. 32. Where to strike. מַפְגִּיעַ, Hiphil participle here, admirably expresses the opposing object, that which comes in the way or causes a meeting. It seems strange that Delitzsch should say that the Hiphil sense is lost in such rendering. He himself makes it, not the object, but the aimer, by virtue of the all-explaining beth essentiæ. The participle thus used as object becomes synonymous with מִפְגָּע 7:20, only it is better here as more easily admitting the personificative idea, as though the thing hit were regarded, for the moment, as the adversary against whom the bolt is hurled. The verb in this Hiphil form appears most expressively Isai. 53:12, וְלַ פּשְׁעִים יַפְגִּיעַ, “and He (the Redeemer) interposed for the transgressors”—came between them and the bolt of justice, so that it might fall on Him. From the very nature of the verb פגע, its Kal and Hiphil must be very much alike in their general significance; the latter being only the more intensive. It is, in this respect, like the kindred verb פנש, to meet, in which Kal, Piel, and even Niphal present nearly, the same idea. [767]Ver. 33. Of this. עָלָיו; that is, the mark, the thing hit, or the fact of hitting. Those who refer the pronoun to God, as in the other cases above, get into great confusion. It turns away the thought from the optical, or the direct picture, on which the speaker seems intent, to a kind of moralizing out of place and interrupting the effect. [768]Ver. 33. The crashing roar. An error in respect to עליו leads to a false view of רֵעַ, or to the rendering friend, or thought, as some take it, whilst it so obviously means the sharp sound of the thunder when the lightning strikes near. See the use of it, Exod. 23:17 for the wild cheering or uproar of the camp, and especially Micah 4:9 The latter place leaves no doubt of its meaning, or of its derivation, לָמָּה תָרִיעִי רֵעַ, lamma tha-ringni reangh, if we give to the ע something of that nasal tone with which the modern Jews pronounce it: “Why ringest thou out, oreakest thou out, with that roaring cry, quare vociferari, vociferando?” רֵע is onomatopically like רִנָּה, only its guttural, especially if there is something nasal in it, makes it better adapted to represent a rough, hoarse, roaring, crashing sound, in which everything seems breaking to pieces. When in a thunder-storm there is heard that peculiar crash simultaneous with the vivid lightning blaze, we say immediately, that has struck somewhere, and very near. It immediately announces the effect, such as is not expected when the thunder is distant, though it may be very heavy, and the lightning very vivid. Hence we call it a report. הגיד well expresses this—tells—declares—puts it before us (נגד) in a way we cannot doubt. [769] Ver. 33. The ascending flame. Here is another example where the most literal following of the words in their most literal sense, but with a sharp look to the context, furnishes the best guide in the interpretation.מִקְנֶה אַף עַל עוֹלֶה, the herds, even of the ascending: Unchanged the words give that and nothing else. עַל is to be taken as just before in עליו. There it is, “make report of it,” that is, the striking. Here it is a making report (for יגיד belongs to both clauses) of something else described as עוֹלֶה (ascendens), de surgente, or de ascendente. But what is it that goeth up? This is to be determined by the context, and the use of the participle עוֹלֶה in other passages of Scripture, or of the verb from which it comes. Connecting it with the lightning stroke in the first clause we can hardly help thinking of Gen. 19:28, where “the smoke of Sodom” is pictured as “going up, (עלה), like the smoke of a furnace,” or of Joshua 8:20,וְהִנָּה עָלָּה עֲשַׁן הָעִיר, “and lo, there went up the smoke of the city.” For similar imagery see Judg. 20:40; Jerem. 48:15, and other places. The name, too, given to the burnt offering, עוֹלָה, with only a change of vowel to make it a participial noun, presents the same image. It is so called because of the smoke ascending high in the air from the altar of incense and sacrifice. Comp. Gen. 8:20, the ascent of Noah’s offering; also such passages as Lev. 6:2, הָעוֹלָה הָעוֹלֶה עַל מוֹקְדָה, Ezek. 8:11, עֲנַן הַקְּטֹרֶת עוֹלֶה, “the cloud of incense going up.” These passages are cited to show how easy and natural the image, and how difficult it is, in such a context to associate it with any other. Other views require changes in the text; for example, instead of מִקְנֶה, some would read מַקְנֶה, and then demand that it be regarded as equivalent to מַקְנִיא governing אַף (as a noun) and making it mean, arousing jealous wrath. This to make any sense requires עַוְלָה (fem. of עָוֶל) wickedness, and also that עַל should have the sense against; thus taking it out of the obvious parallelism with עליו in the first clause. They say, too, אַף is in the wrong place for it as a particle,—it should have come at the beginning of the clause. But the briefest consultation of Noldius’ Concord. Partic. would show that this is futile. See 2 Sam. 20:14; Cant. 1:16; 1 Sam. 2:7; Isai. 26:9; Ps. 70:15, etc. It is frequently, as we here find it, when emphasizing a word as it emphasizes עַל עוֹלֶה, “even of that which goeth up.” Others take the text as it stands, but refer עולה to God. But this is very difficult. God does not go up in the storm. Still less fitting is the rendering im Anzug, on his approach (Delitzsch) or im Zuge (Ewald), on the march. עולה is never used in such a way. Some of the Jewish commentators regard it as equivalent to על, a supposed name of God, Hos. 12:27, or to עֶלְיוֹן,—the Most High, so frequently used in Genesis; but that denotes position, height as rank, not ascension in any way. Some, following Aben Ezra, refer it to the rising storm, and the cattle foreboding its approach; but that disorders the time, and takes us away from the scene so vividly painted as present to the imagination at least, if not to the actual sense of the persons addressed. It is something startling, as is shown by the close connection with the 1st verse of ch. 37, and which any such retrospective reflections of the speaker would interrupt and impair. Others render רֵעַ friend: Schlottmann, Er zeigt ihm soinen Freund—Zorneseifer über die Frevler; but that besides requiring two changes in the text of the second clause, seems a sort of reflective moralizing which would hardly come between such vivid description preceding and immediately following. It seems too forced to be capable of defence even by the reasoning of so excellent a commentator as Schlottmann. Umbreit renders רֵעַ in the same way; but in the second clause goes very far off in rendering עוֹלֶה das gewachs, the plant, for which the places he cites Gen. 40:10; 41:22 furnish no warrant. Even if ever used in the Bible for a plant, it would be unmeaning here, and the construction he gives altogether ungrammatical. The epithet frightened, in the translation, gives only what is clearly implied, if the view taken of the passage be coreect, and so is it used by Renan, though referring it to the cattle’s foreboding of an approaching storm: L’effroi des tropeaux revele son approche. Others content themselves with rendering simply and safely de surgente, or de ascendente, without any attempt at explanation. But what is that which goeth up after the crash, and the striking of the lightning? Not unfrequently do we witness what ought to give us the idea. It is when the lightning strikes anything that is highly combustible, a barn with grain, a stack of dry sheaves in the field, or, as it often does, the dry trees of the forest. It could not have been uncommon on the plains of Uz. In such a case the smoke and flame rise up almost immediately from the fierce combustion. A sight of this kind strongly associates itself in the mind of the translator, with the study of this passage. During a storm of terrific blackness a most blinding flash of zigzag chain lightning came down over a near hill. The terrible crash was simultaneous with it, and hardly had the reverberation ceased when up rose from a barn behind the hill a lurid column of pitchy smoke and flame ascending perpendicularly towards the heavens, like that which went up from the blasted plain of Sodom. It was, indeed, an awful sight, and had the fleeing cattle formed part of the scone, it would have been in closest conformity with the picture so vividly presented to us in these few Hebrew words. Taken as a whole, this portion of Elihu’s speech (vers. 27–33) suggests most of the ideas which are prominent in Virgil’s description of the thunder-storm, Georg. I. 328: Ipse Pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca Fulmina molitur dextra.—— fugere feræ, et mortalia corda Per gentes humilis stravit pavor; ille flagranti Aut Atho, aut Rhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia, telo Dejicit; ingeminant Austri et densissimus imber. With the 4th and 5th lines of the above, compare Ps. 104:32; He touches the mountains and they smoke. The difficulty of the passage gives the apology for so long dwelling upen it. [770]Ver. 1. At such a sight. אף לזאת, yea at this. There is intimated the closest connection with what precedes. [771]Ver. 1. Leaps—wildly. נתר, trepidavit, palpitavit .In Piel it denotes the sudden leap of the locust. [772]Ver. 2. Roaring. רֹגֶז. The first loud, rough crash. [773]Ver. 2. Reverberation. The succeeding sound, loud, yet lower in tone, literally muttering, rumbling, etc., deep barytone, like a low murmuring voice. [774]Ver. 3. Sends it forth. Not from ישר to direct, but from שרה to set free, let loose. [775]Ver. 3. Edges. Literally, wings, extremities. [776]Ver. 4. Glorious voice. Lit., voice of his glory. To avoid the tautology, in the 3d clause it is rendered sound. [777]Ver. 4. Cannot trace them, יְעקּבֵם. Gesenius gives it the sense retardavit, citing the Arabic (Conj. II.) which does not support him, since it simply means coming behind (pressit vestigia). Delitzsch, following Gesenius, renders, und spart die Blitze nicht; Schlottmann, nicht zogern die Blitze; Umbreit, und er hält’s nicht zuruck. On the other hand Ewald gives it the sense of finding, tracing, investigating, though he seems to regard as its object the men to be punished, for which there is no authority. This, too, is the rendering of the Vulgate (non investigatur, taken impersonally), of Symmachus, and of the Peschito, which uses the very word, and with the sense of investigating, tracing, tracking, which it always has in Syriac. See the numerous examples in N. T., and especially Acts 17:27, seeking after God and tracing Him (מעקבין used for the Greek ψηλαφήσειαν, feel after). So among the older commentators, עקב is a denominative or noun verb, and all its uses are easily traceable from the primary sense of עָקֵב the heel; such as to go behind one (at his heels), to supplant, or trip the heel; hence to retard (impedire) should the context demand it. The most natural idea, however, belonging to the Piel, (as to the Syriac Pael) is that of tracking, investigating (from vestigium, a footstep). The same metaphor appears in the nouns; as in עקבות, Cant. 1:8; Ps. 89:52, and especially, as strongly suggested by this, Ps. 77:20: “Thy way is in the many waters, and thy footsteps (or thy tracings עִקְּבוֹתֶיךָ, vestigia tua) are unknown,” untraceable. Here, however, it must be taken indefinitely as in the Vulgate; One cannot trace them, that is, the thunder voices. In giving the verb the sense of holding back, Delitzsch and Umbreit make lightnings the object. But thunders, mentioned just before, is more properly the grammatical object, especially in the sense above given. The reference is to the rolling or reverberating thunder, “under the whole heavens,” or all round the sky; unlike the sharp crash of the striking bolt which immediately announces itself (36:33). It seems to be every where. We hear but cannot trace it. [778]Ver. 5. With his voice. The repetitions of the word קול are somewhat remarkable, although the Hebrew seems to allow such a thing better than the English. It may be regarded as coming from the anxiety of Elihu to impress the idea that the thunder in the storm now raging around them, is really, and not metaphorically merely, the voice of God impressing itself in the undulations of the air. This idea of an actual thunder-storm coming up, subsiding or passing off, gathering again (as seems to be represented in the two chapters) and finally terminating in the tornado from which breaks forth the unmistakable voice of God, furnishes a clue to much that is peculiar in the style of this portion of Elihu’a speech. Especially in ch. 37 does he talk like a man amazed and awed by the approach of terrible phenomena. In the intervals of subsidence, he moralizes as men are wont to do at such seasons. Every few moments his attention seems called to some new appearance, interrupting and confusing his language: “See there”—“hear that,” etc. A darkness comes up, and he “cannot speak by reason of it” (ver. 19); it passes away and his eyes are drawn to a strange electric light approaching from the North. For this effect of the storm on Elihu’s speech, see Int. Theism, pp. 25, 26, 27, and note. [779] Ver. 6. Be thou upon the earth. Delitzsch, falle erdwärts. In thus rendering הֱוֵא, he goes to the Arabic הוי, decidit, delapsus fuit. Gesenius, rue in terram; butas Conant well says, “this very poorly expresses the gentle falling of the snow.” Its quiet descent has ever given, in fact, its most poetical image. Homer uses it II. III. 222, to represent the steady persuasion of true eloquence: Καὶ ἔπεα νιφάδεσσιν ἐοικότα χειμερίῃσιν, which Bryant so exactly as well as beautifully renders: “And words came like the flakes of winter snow.” See Lucian’s allusion to this, Eulogy of Demosthenes, sec. 15. A modern hymnist uses it for its soothing or sedative effect. Schlottmann regards הֱואֵ as simply the imperative of the Hebrew substantive verb in its older form: Sei auf erden, LXX., γίνου ἐπὶ γῆς. [780]Ver. 6. Pouring rain. גֶּשֶׁם (geshem) as its very sound seems to indicate (gush, giessen) denotes the heavy rain when it seems to descend in floods, or almost in a body (Arabic גשׂם jism) as it were, or like a mass or weight (Arabic גשַׁם josham). [781]Ver. 6. Flooding rain. Lit. pouring of rains of his strength. In a compound expression of this kind, the Hebrew puts the pronominal suffix, generally, to the last noun, and uses it like au adjective. [782]Ver. 7. Sealeth up. Confines them to their homes during the storms, that, under shelter, they may think of God’s works, and give Him glory. Comp. Ps. 29, where there is a like description of a thunder-storm as witnessed from the sheltering temple: “He maketh bare the forests,” whilst, at every thunder peal, “every one who sits in his temple אֹמֵר כָּבוֹד, is crying, glory.” The scenic state here is not easily determined, but they were all probably in the shelter of a tent. [783]Ver. 7. Whom He has made. Lit. men of his work. Some would make a change in the text, אנשים for אנשי, so as to make it like 33:17, that every man may know His work. But all that is expressed there is implied here, without a change, whilst there is the additional idea that men too are His work. [784]Ver. 8. The beasts. חַיָּה, here, is taken both collectively and distributively. [785]Ver. 9. The dark South. הַחֶדֶר, the chamber, is an elliptical expression for the South. See its full form, חדרי תימן, chambers of the South, 9:10. Ewald: The secret chamber. See Note 7 to 23:9. It was the region in which thunder-storms arose. [786]Ver. 9. Sweeping storm. סוּפָה, the sweeping storm, as distinguished from סְעָרָה the tornado. [787]Ver. 9. Mezarim. The word is left untranslated. It evidently means the North, though on what grounds is not easily seen. Lit., the scatterers, and Delitzsch refers it to the boreal winds that disperse the clouds and bring clear cold weather. It is not the Mazzaroth of 38:22. [788]Ver. 10. The hoar frost is congealed. Lit. it gives; but the Hebrew יִתֶּן, is used as a substantive verb, like the German es gibt, for any mode by which the event is brought about, קֶרַח is generally rendered ice, but that does not suit well the figure of breath. Hoar frost gives just the image: frozen vapor or moisture, such as that of descending dew, or of the breath congealing on a cold day as it is exhaled from the mouth. Ice, however, as the product of breath is not any easy conception. Congealed moisture may be taken as the general idea, whatever may be the degree or form of congelation as determined by the context. For this reason, in Job 6:16, we have rendered it sleet (frozen rain) as agreeing best with the darkened floods and the snow-flakes disappearing as they fall into them. The rendering crystal, Ezek. 1:321, is not primary, but comes from the sense of ice, which this word unquestionably has where the context demands it, as in 38:29, with its general words of production or generation. Frost, there, comes in the second clause (כְּפֹר the hoar frost, from the idea of covering, or overspreading, as the manna (Exod. 16:14). In Gen. 31:40, and Jer. 36:30, קֶרַח is used generally for cold, as is shown by its being, in both places, the antithesis of חֹרֶב, heat. So קָרָה, Prov. 25:20; ביום קרה, in die frigoris. [789]Ver. 20. Firmly bound. מוּצָק from יצק to pour, to become fused. Hence the idea of something metallic that becomes solid from a molten state: It comes more directly, however, if we can regard יצק as deriving one of its senses from the cognate יצג, stabilivit, or suppose מוּצָג = מוּצָק or מֻצָּג. Compare מֻצָּק, 11.15, מוּצָק 38:38. Akin to these are the derivatives from צוּק, as מָצוּק columna, 1 Sam. 2:8 מְצֻקֵי אֶרֶץ, and especially 1 Sam. 14:15, where it seems to denote a basnltic pillar of rock, so named from the appearance of fusion such rocks obviously present. בְּמוּצָק here is a clear case of the beth essentiæe. [790]Ver. 11. Drenching rain. Copious effusion. This verse has occasioned much difficulty. בְּרִי has been derived from ברה taken as equivalent to ברר, and rendered purity, clearness, serenity. Theu it has been taken as the subject of יַמְרִיחַ in its Arabic sense projecit, etc.: The serenity, or brightness (the clearing up), drives away, or precipitates the thick thunder-cloud. But this makes the two clauses express the same or a very similar idea. Others (like E. V.), take בְּ as a preposition, and רִי as an abbreviation of רְוִי, like כִּי (burning) for כְּוִי. Such an abbreviation would be still more likely with the preposition: בּרי for בֶרֶוִי. The Arabic word רי copiosa irrigatio is just like it, and comes in just the same way from רוי. This makes a clear and suitable sense which is supported by E. V., and the majority, perhaps, of authorities. Some who take this sense of רי, however, altogether change the idea by giving יטריח the sense of loading or putting a load upon (with copious rain He loads the cloud) resorting to the Arabic word from which no such idea can be fairly abstracted. The sense, however, which the context demands, comes very easily from the Hebrew idea of טֹרַח, namely, weariness as in Deut. 1:12, and Isai. 1.14, the only places where it occurs, but abundantly sufficient to fix its meaning. The idea of load is only passive or subjective, especially as it appears in the latter passage. The primary idea is molestia, defatigatio, and hence, exhaustion; by the copious flooding. He exhausts the עב or the dense heavy cloud. There would be an incongruity in the idea of loading (charging) the cloud by irrigation. That of exhaustion gives just the sense that best fits the whole verse, and this E. V. has well expressed by “He wearieth.” [791]Ver. 11. Light-breaking cloud. The clouds through which the light is breaking. Heb. literally, cloud of his light. ענן being in the construct state it cannot be rendered, His light disperses the cloud, though that would be a good sense, and in harmony with the general idea of the whole verse. There is, moreover, an evident contrast between עב, the dark dense storm cloud, and עָנָן, the ordinary cloud, the cloud as it usually floats in the atmosphere, “the morning cloud,” Hos. 4, or “the passing cloud,” Job 7:9. The contrast is lost in many renderings. Its preservation, and the clear calling to mind of the phenomena that attend the breaking up of a heavy thunder-storm, lead us out of all difficulty. The symptom that the shower is nearly over is generally a sudden and unusual outpouring as though the עב or nimbus was emptying itself of all its contents. Very soon the clouds assume a lighter appearance. We say it is beginning to clear up, and in a short time we sea them in motion with the light breaking out of them, and through them in all directions. אוֹר is indeed used for the lightning in a number of places, but here it would seem to be taken in its ordinary sense. Even should we render it His lightning cloud, as Dr. Conant does, it would make no great difference in the general view: the cloud or clouds out of which His lightning had been playing. It is, however, more literal and more easy to render it as it stands, the cloud of His light—His illumined cloud, his light or lightsome cloud now almost transparent instead of dark and dense. The distinction is well given in the Article on Clouds, Am. Encyclopedia: “The nimbus (the עב here) having discharged its moisture, the lighter forms of clouds appear (the cirrus in some of its modifications), whilst the fragments of the nimbus are borne along by the winds.” There is a resemblance to this picture in the interpretation of the old commentators Mercerus and Drusius. Hanc appellat nubem lucis Dei, nubem qua dispulsa, lux et serenitas inducitur. [792]Ver. 12. In circling changes. מֵסֵב, a circuit, a revolving. It is, however, in causality, rather than in space movement. The latter idea of a turning round, or over, of the cloud, gives no clear meaning here. In the kindred word סִבָּה, as used 1 Kings 12:15 (2 Chron. 10:15, נְסִבָּה representing the same thing), it denotes a political revolution, a bringing about of events by a combination of physical and moral means, yet still, as here, ascribed to God’s agency, as though the Scriptures made little of our distinction between natural and supernatural causation. It is here the series of changes through which those phenomena occur, taking in the whole process, from His “drawing up of the water drops,” 36:27, the distilling from vapor to rain, ver. 28, to the discharge and clearing up of the storm as described in tile verse above. [793]Ver. 12. Transformed. מִתְהַפֵּךְ may refer to the cloud thus formed, or to the event as it comes out of this circuitous causation bringing things back to their former state. See note on the Niphal נֶהְפַּךְ, 28:5, and the Hophal הָהְפַּךְ 30:15. The Hithpahel מִתִהַפֵּךְ may sometimes present the idea of changes in space and motion, as in Gen. 3:24, but in this place. and 38:14, the general idea of transformation, metamorphosis, or the causal turning of one thing, or one phenomenon, into another is to be preferred. [794]Ver. 12. Wise laws. תַּחְבוּלוֹתָיו. The uses of this word in such places as Prov. 1:5; 11:14; 20:18, where it is parallel with מַחְשָׁבוֹת, thoughts, designs, and עֵצָה, consilium (see also Prov. 24:6), make it very clear. In regard to physical things it means just what we call laws (God’s thoughts) though with a less pious meaning. The etymological image is in harmony with this as derived from the primary sense of the verb חבל to bind (noun חֶבֶל) a rope or string). תחבולות, things or events tied together. God’s counsels in the ligatures, linkings, or concatenations of nature. [795]Ver. 12. Sphere of earth. Lit., the world-earth: The earth and the skies belonging to it, above and around it. For this use of תֵּבֵל see 1 Sam. 2:8; Ps. 18:16; 93:1; Ps. 90:2, ארץ ותבל, and Prov. 8:31, תֵּבֵל אַרְצוֹ “The habitable earth,” Dr. Conant renders it. It has this sense sometimes, and it may be more proper here; but the prominent presence of aerial phenomena seems to justify the wider rendering: the terrestrial world. [796]Ver. 13. He appointeth it. Delitzsch renders יַמְצִאֵהוּ, “He caused it to discharge itself,” that is the cloud. It is an unnecessary loading of the sense beyond the requirements of מצא, which, in Hiphil, is sometimes used in the manner of a substantive verb—to make a thing present, that is to make, to be, as in Job 34:11. From this comes the frequent Rabbinical usage of מצא as a verb of existence. [797]Ver. 15. Cloudy darkness. This rendering is given to ענן, not only as suiting the etymological idea, covering, overspreading, but also as best suggesting the wonder, or seeming miracle intended: the brilliant light radiating from so dark a source, like the sparks from the flint. [798]Ver. 16. Knowest thou the poisings. Comp. 28:25, 26, and notes: the law for the rain. Here, as in 36:29, the wonder presented is that of the cloud remaining balanced in the air with its heavy watery load. [799]Ver. 17. In sultry stillness rests: Compare Isaiah 18:4: “I am still (אשקטה), and look out in my place, as when the dry heat is in the air, or like the cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.” The South, the region of heat and thunder-storms. [800]Ver. 18. So like a molten mirror smooth. The true point of the comparison is lost when we connect כ with חזקים. It rather refers to תרקיע, and the resemblance is, not in the strength, but in the expansion or apparent smoothness. [801] Ver. 19. Cannot speak aright. Lit, cannot arrange (words) by reason of (or before) the darkness. If there were nothing else, this would naturally be interpreted of mental darkness. So Renan, who, however, gives a very fine rendering: Mais plutôt, taisons-nous, ignorants que nous sommes. But the thought again suggests itself that this is a real scene. It is a real darkness perturbing his thoughts and disturbing his utterance. It may be a coming back of the nimbus as is the case sometimes in thunder-storms, or some strange darkening of the air from some unknown cause, and, therefore, more awing than though it came from clouds. Something still more fearful is anticipated. There are symptoms of the סְעָרָה, or whirlwind. And so he turns again from the reflective to the phenomenal style, like that of a man calling attention to some new and strange appearances in the heavens, after the storm has partially passed by. [802]Ver. 19. So dark it grows. Hebrew, literally, before the darkness, or by reason of the darkness. [803]Ver. 20. Ah, is it told to Him. An overawing sense of an actually approaching divine presence, making even the reverent Elihu fear lest he may have said something rash, as he charges Job to have done. From this his own confession, therefore, we may expect perturbation, confusion, and consequent obscurity in what immediately follows. He “cannot order his speech” or marshall (ערך) his words. He hardly knows what he says, as was the case with the disciples (Mark 9:6) when they came down from the mount of transfiguration; οὐ γὰρ ᾔδει τί λαλήσῃ· ἦσαν γὰρ ἔκφοβοι. [804] Ver. 20. Has one so said? It is not easy to get a clear meaning to this verse, unless we take כִּי elliptically with some word of caution, such as is sometimes to be supplied before the Greek ὅτι, or μὴ ὅτι, μὴ ὅπως, take care lest; or as the Latin ut is used as a caution, with some such word understood as fieri potest, or the like: it may be that he will be swallowed up. Among other places a good example of this elliptical כי may be found, Deut. 7:17: כּי תֹאמַר בִּלְבָבְךָ take care lest thou say in thy heart. It is an idiom which would be especially likely to occur in impassioned language, such as Elihu uses in his confessed perturbation. Renan renders it very freely, and supposes that the reference is to Job’s rash language in demanding that God would appear and speak to him. De grâce, que mes discours no lui soient point rapportes! Jamais homme a-t-il désiré sa perte? [805]Ver. 21. The lightning. The question on which turns the whole interpretation of this and the following verse, is whether אוֹר here means the sun, or the lightning. Most commentators say the former. There are, however, strong objections to it regarded in itself, and they become still stronger in the attempt to make any application of such a meaning. It certainly seems against it that whilst אוֹר is used for the sun in but one clear place in the Bible, Job 30:26 (two other places cited, Hab. 3:4; Isai. 18:4, being better rendered by the general term light) there are no less than five passages in this very description (36:27—37:24), and in close connection, where it is used for the lightning. They are 36:32; 37:3,11, 15, about which there can be no doubt, and 36:30, where it makes the clearest sense. It is certainly the predominant meaning of אור in these two chapters. The word עַתָּה, too, seem to be taken in its temporal sense: at the present time, now, in distinction from something past; as is also denoted by the demonstrative הוּא in the second clause, the splendor that was in the skies, or clouds. Such a definition would not have been appended had the sun been meant, or light generally. It conyeys the impression of something peculiar that had been very lately seen. The same effect is produced on the mind by the third clause: “the wind has passed and cleared them;” the storm is just over; an assertion which seems to have no meaning in connection with the mere general reflection supposed to be expressed by this verse. The strongest argument, however, is that the rendering controverted stands wholly isolated. It seems to refer to nothing that precedes, and has no application to any thing following, except what is wholly inferential, or is to be supplied by each interpreter’s own critical imagination. The analogy is certainly not expressed or even hinted at. The very modes of applying the fact supposed to be stated only render such interpretations all the more unsatisfactory. The principal one is that cited by Schlottmann, from Rabbi Simeon ben Zemach, and which is adopted by most of the Jewish interpreters: “As men cannot look upon the sun in the heavens without being blinded, so they cannot judge of the works of God.” This demands a potential sense for ראו, without any authority. The idea is indeed a good one, but wholly supplied from the commentator’s own mind. Others, like Delitzsch, refer it to the passing away of the storm as denoted in the 3d clause, and make the hidden doctrine to be that “as a breath of wind is enough to bring the sun to view, so God, hidden for a time, can suddenly unveil Himself to our surprise and confusion.” This may be a true and striking thought, but it is wholly supplied. It has, moreover, no connection with ver. 22, where זהב, whatever it means, cannot be the sun coming from the North. Added to all this is the general objection that such a view represents Elihu as suddenly turning from the demonstrative optical, or phenomenal style, which he has used almost throughout, to a refined moralizing in which, after all, he leaves the point of his preceptive comparison, to say the least, very obscure. By referring, on the other hand, אור to the lightning, as it has been five times used in these phenomenal picturings, we get a clear sense, in closest harmony with what follows in ver. 22, and giving a consistent meaning to the 3d clause of ver. 21 which occasions so much difficulty in adapting it to the other interpretations; for if it means the sun appearing after a storm, then men do see it, and hail its appearance, and this is wholly at war with the application of Rabbi Simeon which Schlottmann cites. The key to the irregular language of both these chapters is found when we regard Elihu not as moralizing, or drawing on his imagination, but as describing real appearances in the heavens, the skies, the clouds (for שחקים may have all these meanings) just as they occur. Ewald, Schlottmann, Delitzsch, all admit that the storm or סופה, terminating in the סערה or whirlwind, out of which the Divine voice proceeds, is actually occurring during Elihu’s speech. The latter draws this conclusion from 37:1, dass die Gewitter-schilderung Elihu’s von einem den Himmel überziehenden Gewitter begleitet ist, from which he justly infers that עַתָּה, ver. 21, must be understood in its temporal, instead of its mere conclusive sense: “Now, at this present time, they do not see the light, etc. So Schlottmann, remarking on the article in סערה 38:1, puts it on the ground, dass das bestimmte Wetter gemeint ist dessen Heraufziehen schon Elihu geschildert hatte. He means the painting which commences 36:27, and was most probably suggested by the symptoms of the thunder at that time beginning to show themselves. This makes it all the more strange that these commentators should have made so little use, or rather no use at all, of this important circumstance in their interpretation of vers. 21 and 22. If ver. 21 presents an actual scene then present to the beholders, instead of a mere moralizing imagination, then every thing becomes easy, and a most obvious preparation is furnished for ver. 22. The סופה or thunder-storm has passed by; they see no longer the lightning in the clouds; they are broken up (37:11); “the wind has passed and made them clear. But see! Something else is coming (יאתה ver. 22, future of approach) from the opposite direction, and all eyes are intently fixed upon it. What this is we are told in the next verse. [806]Ver. 21. That splendor, בָּהִיר הוּא. The Arabic בהר has the primary sense of splendor, but it is almost lost in its numerous secondary applications. We get a better idea of the root from the Hebrew noun בְּהֶרֶת, which comes so frequently in the minute description of the leprosy, Lev. 13 and 14. It is the “inflamed” pustule of a “reddish color,” which the LXX. constantly renders by words denoting brilliancy and burning, πυῤῥίζουσα—κατάκαυμα πυρὸς—αὐγάζον and similar words—Vulgate combustio—all leaving no doubt as to its appearance: a fiery red (Heb. אֲדַמְדֵּמֶת) or inflamed spot. In analogy with this, the adjective בהיר would mean a blazing, angry, radiating splendor, suggestive of the red lightning glow, though it might be applied to the sun if the context demanded. [807]Ver. 21. In the clouds. This word שִחקים may be used either for the clouds or the skies. If the sun were intended it would be more properly בשמים, as the sun is never elsewhere said to be בשחקים. [808]Ver. 22. From the North. The opposite direction to that from which comes the סופה. [809] Ver. 22. A golden sheen. זָהָב. Lit., gold. From the context there cannot be a doubt that by this word Elihu means an appearance of a peculiar kind in the heavens, and approaching them from the North. It is something that combines the beautiful, as we may judge from the name he gives it, with the terrible. That there was something of this fearful fascination about it is evident from the sudden, cry which it calls out: with God is dreadful majesty; or as Renan most expressively renders it: O admirable splendeur de Dieu! It would have been out of place had he been calmly moralizing, and drawing refined analogies, as the other interpretations represent him. He saw something. It was this which made him cry out. Nothing but some wonderful glory before his eyes, something that filled him at the same time with admiration and alarm, could have called out such an exclamation. זהב here cannot represent the sun, (though aureus or golden would be a good descriptive epithet of it) since it comes from the North. The Future יאתה, too, would be out of place, from its so evidently denoting approach. There is no ground for rendering it fair weather, as E. V. and others have done. Why should Elihu make a general reflection here about the weather, and what was there in such an idea to bring out that sudden cry of wonder and alarm? The literal rendering gold is the most preposterous of all. That he should stop in the midst of such a splendid storm painting (Gewitterschilderung) to express an opinion in metallurgy is more incredible than his supposed meteorological ideas about the weather; or that under such circumstances he should interrupt his speech in order to tell his hearers that gold comes from the North. All the learning about the “Arimaspian mountains” with their fabled treasures, and Indian stories of guarding griffins, a kind of lore that Umbereit and Merx are so fond of displaying, cannot redeem it from absurdity. Such a mode of interpretation is specially unsatisfactory when an attempt is made to find a contrast, or a comparison, in the two members of ver. 22: The gold buried in the North and God’s unsearchableness; or, as Delitzsch says, “man lays bare the hidden treasures of the earth, but the wisdom of God still transcends him.” How it ignores, too, the pictorial style so evident in the יאתה of the first clause, and the strong emotional aspect of the second! The reference to chap. 28 is wholly out of place; since there the contrast between the Divine and human wisdom is evident throughout to every reader; but here all is optical, with no intimation of any such reflexive ideas as are drawn from it. Every thing goes to show that זהב here must be used to denote a peculiar celestial phenomenon, which no other word could so well describe; a steady, untwinkling brilliancy, having a fascinating yet fearful beauty, not dazzling like the sun, or irritating like the inflamed splendor denoted by בהיר. The Hebrew use, in this way, of זהב for color, is not frequent, though there is a very good example of it, Zech. 14:12, where זהב denotes the clear shining oil, but the classical usage is most abundant. It shows how easy and natural is the analogy in such applications of the words χρυσὸς, aurum, with their derivative adjectives, such as χρυσαυγὴς, gold gleaming (see Pind. Olymp. I. 1, χρυσὸς αἰθόμενον πῦρ). Compare too the epithets most usually applied to gold by the Greek poets, such as καθαρὸς, αἰγλήεις, φαεινὸς, διαυγὴς, στίλβων as Lucian styles it. So in the Latin, aurora the morning light, from aurum (not from αὔριος ὥρη as some absurdly make it), the clear calm light, in distinction from the blinding light of the meridian sun. Hence our word for the aurora borealis. So the Latins used aureolus (aureole) to denote the halo round the heads of gods or saints. For this idea of gold as representing the calm and beautiful in distinction from the fierce and inflamed light, see Rev. 21:18: “And the city was pure gold, χρυσίον καθαρὸν, like to pure jasper.” The rendering of the LXX. νέφη χρυσαυγοῦντα, gold-gleaming clouds, has been contemned; but it gives an idea most suitable to the context, as it immediately calls to mind the remarkable appearance described Ezek. 1:4, which of all others, is most suggestive of this. It is a wonder that the resemblance should have been so little noticed by commentators. That, too, comes from the North: “And I beheld, and lo, a whirlwind (רוח סערה), came from the North, and a great cloud of inter-circling flame (מִתְלַקַּחַת not diffusing itself but making a globe of light), and a brightness (or halo) round about it, and in the midst of it, like the color of amber (quasi species electri) from the midst of the cloud.” It was God’s cherubic chariot, as in Ps. 18:11. Some such strange appearance, represented in the distance mainly by its golden color, appears to Elihu as coming from the same direction. Ezekiel calls it (1:28) “the likeness of the glory of God,” and “falls upon his face.” Elihu cries out, “O awful glory of Eloah;” and this is followed by no mere sententious wisdom, but by one of those doxologies which appear to have been common to the ancient as well as to the later Arabians: Allah akbar, God is very great, incomprehensible, vast in strength and righteousness; He will not oppress. It is an emotional cry called out by a sense of approaching Deity. [810]Ver. 23. He’ll not oppress. In the Int. Theism, page 27 (note), the translator was disposed to regard יַעֲנֶה in Kal as the better reading. A more careful study, however, confirms the common text. [811]Ver. 24. Regardeth not the wise of heart. That, is, those who are “wise in their own eyes,” or vain of their own wisdom. “No flesh shall glory in His presence.” It is a fitting conclusion to such a scene, as it was a most fitting prelude to the voice which soon breaks from the electric splendor of this whirling, inter-circling, cloud of gold. [812]Ver. 1. The whirlwind. See Addenda, Exc. XII., p. 213. [813]Ver. 2. Makes counsel dark. On the question: to whom is this addressed, or of whom spoken. See Exc. XII., p. 213. [814]Ver. 2. Not knowing what he says. The accents separate מלים from בלי דעת. The general sense, however, is the same. See Exc. XII., p. 213. [815]Ver. 3. Now like a strong man. A turning from Elihu to Job. For reasons for this view, See Exc. XII., p. 213. [816]Ver. 4. If thy science goes so far. This may seem a free rendering, but it comes nearer to the meaning of the intensive form ידעת בינה, than the rendering of E. V.: “if thou hast understanding.” Delitzsch’s Urtheilsfähigkeit seems to give a very tame sense. Literally it is know understanding, that is, with understanding, or understandingly, with discernment, or as we would say, scientifically—the reason as well as the fact. Ewald: Verstehst du klug zu sein, which seems to have hardly any meaning at all. [817] Ver. 5. That thou should’st know. Some regard this as irony. So Renan: Qui a régié les mesures de la terre (tu le sais sans doute). There is irony in the Bible, but the idea here is revolting. To say nothing of the theological aspect, it is inconsistent with the frank and encouraging spirit in which Job is invited to the conference (ver. 3d, 2d clause). The rendering above is the most literal, and gives a very satisfactory idea: Who fixed them so that they should fall within the measure of thy science? It is simply a mode of saying, without irony or contempt, that they are far beyond his knowledge. The measures of the earth are not known yet. The North pole is not yet reached. and even should that be accomplished, there is still “the Great Deep,” the vast interior all unexplored and likely to remain so for ages we cannot estimate. [818]Ver. 7. In chorus. יחד, all together—in unison. [819]Ver. 9. The dark araphel. This word expresses a peculiar conception generally translated “thick darkness.” It is something denser than the עב, and darker than אפל. There is in it the idea of dropping or distillation from ערף, as though it were a kind of flowting or floating darkness, having some degree of black visibility. See Exod. 20:18; Deut. 4:11; 2 Kings 8:2. Ps. 18:10: And the araphel was under His feet. As the word is well understood to mean intensive darkness, and is itself quite euphonic, it was thought best to leave it untranslated. [820]Ver. 10. Broke over it my law. The most literal rendering is the beet. Much is lost when we attempt to substitute for it a more general expression. In this word אשבר, there is the idea of something very powerful which the law had to deal with,—something very ungovernable, as though it really taxed the Almighty’s Strength to keep this new-born sea within bounds. We must not look for any geological science in Job, but this kind of language very readily suggests the idea of immense forces at work in the early nature. The breaking of the law upon it represents better than any other linguistic painting could do, its wild stubbornness. It is really the sea breaking itself against law; but there is great vividness, and even subllmity in the converse of the figure. We are reminded by it of Plato’s language (Myth in the Politicus) representing God as contending with, and putting forth His strength against, the inherent ungovernableness, and chaotic tendencies of matter. Umbreit shows great insensibility to the grandeur of this passage in rejecting the common Hebrew sense of שׁבר, and going to the Arabic for the sense of measuring, which is only a denominative meaning, and, in the real application, very unsuitable here. Rosenmueller is still more out of the way in his effort to make שבר equivalent to גזר decree, a sense which this frequent word no where else has in the Hebrew Bible. [821]Ver. 11. Stops. Some take ישית passively, or impersonally. Its active transitive sense, however, may be preserved by regarding חק (ver. 10), the imposed law, as its subject. The preposition ב in בגאון may, in that case, be regarded as making it the indirect object of ישית: puts a stop to. [822]Ver. 13. Limits of the earth. See Note 37:3. [823]Ver. 13. Flee dismayed. וְיִנָּעֲרוּ is passive, and would be rendered, literally, are shaken. But מִמֶּנָּה (referring to the earth) can hardly mean out of it. From it is more literal, that is, from its face, or from open appearance in it. The rendering given corresponds well with the usual primary sense of נער agitation. Scared out of it, that is driven away to their lurking: places when the light comes winging its way to the ends of the earth. [824]Ver. 14. Transformed. See notes on מתהפך, 37:12, and the references thereto. Notes on נהפך 28:5, and on ההפך 30:15. [825]Ver. 14. Beneath the seal. “Its dark and apparently formless surface is changed to a world of varied beauty and magnificence; just as the shapeless clay takes the beautiful device from the seal; Conant. See Herder’s idea that, in some sense, “every morning is a new creation.” [826]Ver. 14. A fair embroidered robe. To make the comparison good, by לבוש must evidently be meant a robe with figures worked upon it. Conant, gay apparel; Schlottmann, Festgewand; Dillmann, in mannigfaltigen Umrissen und Farben; Renan, un riche vetemant. [827]Ver. 15. Their light. “According to 24:17,” says Delitzsch, “the light of evil doers is the darkness of the night, which is to them, as an aid to their work, what the light of day is for other men,” Compare John 3:19; “Loved darkness more than light.” [828]Ver. 15. Broken the uplifted arm. Our word frustrated has the same figure. The picture is a very vivid one: the arm just raised to do evil arrested by the light. [829]Ver. 16. Abysmal depths. חֵקֶי תְּהוֹם. Lit., the secret of the tehom, or “great deep” mentioned Gen. 1:2; 7:11. It is sometimes used for the sea or ocean. [830]Ver. 17. Been shown. The sense of נִגְלוּ here is not that of opening (the gate opened) but of revealing. [831]Ver. 17. The realm of shades. צַלְמָוֶת may be used figuratively of a state of sorrow, or of approach to death, as it seems to be taken Ps. 23:4, but here by the usual law of parallelism, Tzalmaveth would mean something more remote and profound than Maveth (death), or farther removed from this present earthly being. In both, the imagery of gates is from the same feeling of returnlessness that gave rise to the similar language in Homer: Ἀΐδαο πύλαι, the gates of Hades, II. V. 646, IX. 312. [832]Ver. 18. Or even the breadth of earth. Conant, even to (עד), which is, perhaps, to be preferred; since עד, here, as in some other places, denotes degree. [833]Ver. 18. Knowest it all. It refers to all the questions asked, and not merely the breadth of the earth. [834] Ver. 19. Light’s dwelling-place. Well rendered by Umbreit: Wo geht der Weg hin zu des Lichtes Wohnung. [835]Ver. 19. And darkness. It is not the same question. Darkness is spoken of as a positive quality having a source and place of its own. So Isaiah 45:7, יוצר אור ובורא חשך. When God speaks to men He must address them in their own language, and that must be according to their thinking, or the conceptions on which their words are founded. Again, if according to their conceptions, it must also be in accordance with the science to which those conceptions owe their birth. This must be done, or the language will be unintelligible, conveying neither emotion nor idea. There is no more ground of objection here, on the e accounts, than there is to the recorded announcements to the Patriarchs or the Prophets, or in any other cases in which God is represented as speaking to men in human language, whether from a flaming mountain, or from a burning bush, or from a bright overshadowing cloud (νεφέλη φωτεινὴ) Matth. 17:5, or from a whirlwind, or from “a still small voice.” Light, darkness, Tzalmaveth, the gates of death, the sea with its bars and doors, the araphel with its swaddling band, the Tehom or great deep, are themselves but a language, the best that could be employed, to express the great ultimate truth here intended, namely the immeasurable unknown to which the highest human knowledge only makes an approach, ever leaving an unfathomable, which, is still beyond, and still beyond, its deepest soundings. However far the phenomenal is pushed the great ultimate facts are as far as ever from being known. We may think we have reached the last, and given it some name that shall stand, but another addition to the magnifying power of our lenses throws this again into the region of the phenomenal, or of “the things that do appear,” leaving the ultimate law, and the ultimate fact, still beyond, and so on forever and for evermore. It has been rather boldly said that the questions of these last chapters of Job would not now be asked, since science has answered most of them long ago. Science has done no such thing; and no truly scientific man would affirm it. Whatever hypothesis we adopt, whether of rays, or of undulations, light itself, in its ἀρχῇ, is invisible. It is one of “the things unseen”(Heb. 11:3); “the way to its house” is not yet known. And so of other things, even the most common phenomena mentioned in this chapter have yet an unknown about them. What change takes place in the molecules or atoms of water (whether in their shape or their arrangement) when it congeals, is as unknown to us as it was to Job. We know not out of what “womb” of forces comes the ice, and the hoar frost, or the snow flake even, with its myriad mathematical diversities of congelation and crystallization. The truth is, the unknown grows faster, at every step, than the known. Every advance of the latter pushes the line farther back than it was before, and so long as the ratio of the discovered to the undiscovered is itself unknown, there is no rashness in saying that as compared with the Divine knowledge, the real truth, even of nature, we are as ignorant as Elihu or Job. That this ia no mere railing against science is shown by the testimony of no less a scientist than Alexander Humboldt himself. Thus he says, Kosmos, Vol. II., p. 48, in respect “to the meteorological processes which take place in the atmosphere, the formation and solution of vapor, the generation of hail, and of the rolling thunder, there are questions propounded in this portion of the book of Job which we, in the present state of our physical knowledge, may indeed be able to express in more scientific language, but scarcely to answer more satisfactorily.” [836]Ver. 20. To its bounds. This shows that ultimate causal knowledge is intended,—or that finishing knowledge (τὸ τέλειον as distinguished from the τὸ ἐκ μέρους, 1 Cor. 13:10) beyond which nothing more is to be known about it. [837]Ver. 20. The way that leadeth to its house. Another mode of expressing the same idea. “Its house” where dwells the ἀρχὴ, or first principle that makes it what it is, and of which all subsequent phenomena are but different degrees of manifestation; the phenomenon last reached by scientific discovery being only called an ἀρχὴ till something beyond it is revealed and takes the name. These questions, as Humboldt intimates, may yet be asked, each one of them, and no mere names like “gravity,” “force,” “correlation of forces,” can evade their point, or conceal our inability to answer perfectly. [838] Ver. 21. Thou know! Many take this as irony. This is the way Renan gives it: Tu le sais sans doute! car tu étais né avant elles; Le nombre de tes jours est si grand! The idea is insupportable. The voice of Jehovah is sounding loud above the roar of the tornado that bursts from the electric amber cloud; Job and all the rest most probably lying prostrate, with their faces in the dust! What a time for sarcasm, especially on such a theme, the fewness of the human years! But the translation above given, it may, perhaps, be said, comes nearly to the same thing, It is not so. The peculiar style, combined of the exclamatory and the interrogative, is to bring vividly before the mind the change that ensues in the illustrative phenomena to be now mentioned. The personal knowledge of the first mentioned great creative acts could only be claïmed on the score of experience or cotemporeity, which are out of the question. Those now to be mentioned are familiar every-day phenomena, and observation, it might be thought, is sufficient for their discovery. But in these, too, there is an unfathomable depth of mystery. As no length of human days could give the one, so no keenness of observation, or of inductive analysis, could reach the other, though lying right beneath our eyes. So here ידעת, spoken abruptly and forcibly, but not with irony or contempt, is exclamatory and at the same time carries a hypothetical force: Thou knowest! that is, as if thou knewest, or could’st know! I The second clause is only a varied and forcible mode of presenting the same thought. There is much here that reminds us of a passage in that strangely impressive apocryphal book of II. Esdras (sometimes styled the IV.): “Then said the angel unto me: go thy way: weigh me the weight of the fire, or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past. If I should ask thee of the springs of the Deep, or where are the outgoings of Paradise, peradventure thou would’st say, I never went down into the Deep, neither did I ever climb up into Heaven; but now have I asked thee only of the fire, and the wind, and of the day through which thou hast passed, and of things from which thou canst not be separated, and yet thou canst give me no answer. Things grown up with thee thou canst not know; how then should’st thou comprehend the way of the Highest!” [839]Ver. 22. Approached. הֲבָאתָ, most literal, gone or come to, visited, entered into, as בוא may be rendered without the preposition, as, באי שער עירו, Gen. 23:18. [840]Ver. 23. I reserve, חשכתי, see Note 21:30; “the wicked reserved to the day of doom.” [841]Ver. 23. When hosts draw near. This gives the etymological idea of קְרָב: closeness and battle, literally, for battle closely joined. See Deut. 20:2, 3, בקרבכם אל מלחמה, when ye draw nigh to battle, or join battle. [842]Ver. 24. Lightning. So Schlottmann אור: Das Licht ist der Blitz, as in 36:32, and he might also have said, as in 37:3, 11, 15. He finds an argument for it from its agreement with the second clause: the lightning and the storm coming with the snow and the hail. The word דרך here may refer to the direction of the lightning flash so difficult to trace (see Note on 37:4) or to the method or law of the fact, as חק (see 28:26) refers to the dynamical principle. If referred to light it may be the law of its existence or origin. [843]Ver. 24. Parts. Lit. is parted; but the Niphal may be rendered deponently or intransitively. If אור is the lightning, it presents the idea of the heavens cloven by it in all directions, or its being cloven from the cloud. Ps. 29:7 may be regarded as parallel to it: “the voice of the Lord (the thunder) cutteth out (heweth out) the flashes of fire,” Rabbi Levi Ben Gerson renders: “how it (the lightning) breaks from the cloud.” [844]Ver. 24. How drives—or spreads. יפיץ is taken intransitively, as in Exod. 5:12; 1 Sam. 13:8. [845]Ver. 24. The rushing tempest. The East wind (קדים, the classical Eurus is thus used for a tempest. See Ps. 48:8, the wind “that breaks the ships of Tarshish, Job 27:21:” The East wind (or the storm) carries him away. See Jer. 23:17; Isai. 27:8; Ezek. 27:26. [846]Ver. 25. A way appointed. This is exactly like the second clause of 28:26. There דרך is parallel to חק, law, decree, which requires something like it in the 2d clause. The way is not here merely space direction, but method of action. [847]Ver. 27. To irrigate. To satisfy, does not seem to suit the context. The regions mentioned in the let clause, שאה ומשואה, wild and waste, are without any elements of vegetation, and rain can only water them. [848]Ver. 27. As well as. There seems a contrast between the two clauses. The first is the sending of rain where no vegetation could be effected by it, as in the desert or the sea, the second where there is drought, but still something to germinate. There is no dwelling here on utilitarian ends merely, though there are such occasionally referred to; the great design seems to be to show the Divine sovereignty—God’s omnipotence in making nature and her laws, just as it pleases Him. [849]Ver. 28. A father to the rain. A creator to the rain; or is it the production of chance? [850]Ver. 28. Begotten. The figure of generation is kept up in הוליד. There has been a great lack of attention to the momentous fact that so much of this language of generation, or of evolution, or production by birth (one thing coming out of another), is employed is Scripture, not only in the poetical parts such as Ps. 90:2 (הָרִים יֻלָּדוּ תְּחוֹלָל אֶרֶץ—), Prov. 8:22; Ps. 104, and here in Job, but in the prose account of Gen. 1: “The earth bringing forth”—“the waters “swarming with life”—the Spirit “brooding upon them”—the “generations (תולדות) of the heavens and the earth,” It is all so different from those ideas of mechanical or magical creation in which Mohammed indulges, and which distinguish so many pagan mythologies. It is a Divine evolution, through an outgoing Word, and the term should not be given up to the naturalists, who discard the idea of semination, and thereby make it an eternal, uninterfered with, self-evolving of the higher as lying hid in the lower,—in the lowest even,—from an infinite eternity. [851]Ver. 29. Out of whose womb?—Who hath gendered? The same language of parturitive generation (תולדה) or causal growth, is here kept up. The cold ice the product of some cherishing heat, or brooding warmth, such as we can hardly separate from the idea of generation. [852]Ver. 30. As by a stone. The icy covering. [853]Ver. 30. Firmly bound. The Hithpahel ית׳ כדו. Lit., Hold fast to each other. The idea of the flow arrested. Nothing could better express the transition from the fluid to the congealed state. It is some change in the coherence and space relations of the ultimate particles, or it may be in molecules still undiscovered, yet at immense distances from the ultimate parts. But what that change is, or what a world of mystery lies so near us, right under our hands and eyes, we know no more than Job. [854]Ver. 31. Clustering pleiades. מעדנות, by metathesis for מענדת as generally received. Lit., the clusterings of Cima For ענד see Job 31:36; Prov. 4:2, where it is used, in connection with the same word קשר, for the graceful binding of ornaments. There in evidently a contrast of binding and loosing between the two members, but as regards our knowledge of what particular constellations are meant we are not much beyond the ancient versions. How little can be certainly known is seen in the labored commentary of Delitzsch. [855]Ver. 32. Mazzaroth. The change of the liquids ר and ל is so common and so easy that there can be but little doubt of מַזָּרוֹת here being the same as מַזָּלוֹת (Mazzaloth) 2 Kings 23:5, where it is used for the constellations. Literally, houses (in the heavens) as the term is used in the old astrology (from the sense to dwell, which נזל has in Arabic). From the constellations generally it is transferred to the 12 signs of the Zodiac; though the signs in all parts of (he heavens were observed for the determination of seasons. [856] Ver. 32. Arctos and her sons. The Northern Bear; her sons, the three bright stars in the tail that seem constantly sweeping after it as this ever visible constellation circles round the pole. Bochart (Hierozoicon, Vol. II., pa. 113) shows beyond all doubt that עַיִשׁ is identical with the Northern Bear as named by the Arabians, and described in a similar way as accompanied by her daughters. The name is feminine here, as ἄρκτος in Greek, and ursa in Latin. So the Greeks called this constellation, as well as the Northern Indians of our own continent. The fixing it helps to determine some of the others ever named with it, probably, in the first place, by the Phœnician sailors much before the Homeric times. Among quite a number of other places see Odyss. V. 272: ΠΛΗΙΑΔΑΣ τ’ ἐσορῶντι—— ἌΡΚΤΟΝ θ̓ ́Ἡτ’ αὐτοῦ στρεφέται, καὶ τ’ ὨΡΙΩΝΛ δοκεύει. The verb נחה has a pastoral air here; see Ps. 23:3: leads them in the field of the skies as the shepherd his flock. [857]Ver. 33. Their ruling. The corresponding Arabic verb שטר means to write, to make records. Hence it would seem to denote signs, prescriptions, and to suggest the idea given Gen. 1:14. [858]Ver. 36. Inward parts. It is common in all languages to assign certain parts of the body as the seat of intellectual and passional movements. The Hebrew, like the Greek, has quite a number of such words—heart, reins, bowels, etc. The use of this word טחות, Ps. 52:8 (truth in the inward parts) ought to settle its meaning here as equivalent to reins, used as the Greeks use ἧπαρ or ἧτορ (heart or liver) for the region where dwells the deepest thought. The reference of טחות to outward phenomena (lightning, etc.) as is done by Ewald and Umbreit, depends on far-fetched Arabic etymologies, and requires us to regard such phenomena as personified, with little or no distinct meaning after all. Schlottmann shows clearly the connection of thought: the mention of the celestial laws and their ruling in the earth suggests most naturally that greater work of God, the making and implanting the faculties that comprehend them. See Ps. 94:9. [859]Ver. 36. The sense. The rendering given to the first clause determines the general meaning of the second, though leaving somewhat uncertain the precise meaning of שֶׂכְוִי. The Rabbins render it a cook, which Delitzsch follows, although such a rendering of the word (see Bochart, Hieroz. II., pp. 114, 115) breaks up the harmony of the parallelism. שכוי, which occurs only here, must correspond to טחות, but as it is not easy to determine what part of the body is meant, it is better to be governed by the etymology generally (שׂכה, as in its more frequent Syriac usage, to see, look for, contemplate, image, etc.), and by the other derivatives, שְׂכִיָּה, image, picture, Isai. 2:16, מַשְׂכִית figure, Ezek. 8:12; Lev. 26:1. As a part then of the physical system it might be rendered the sensorium, did not that sound too technical or philosophical. We have, therefore, simply rendered it the sense. This corresponds well to the distinction between חכמה and בינה which the common mind, even in the days of Job, accepts as familiarly as the most philosophical: the abstract reason, on the one hand, the inductive observing faculty of experience (ever dependent on the sense) as forming its intellectual counterpart or complement, on the other. The Hebrews, or rather the Syriac שׂכה (saka, saha, sah, seh) would seem to show an affinity (with its guttural worn out) to the German sehen, Gothic sawan, English saw or see. [860]Ver. 37. Rules. Heb. ספר, numbers, regulates. [861]Ver. 37. Inclines. Thus is the rendering of Conant very suitable to the figure. ישכיב would mean, literally, to cause to lie down, hence inclining or turning over a vessel to empty it. The Arabic sense (pour out) is a secondary one, in which the old primary is lost. The Vulgate renders it: quis enarrabit cœlorum rationem, et concentum cœli quis dormire faciet? In the last clause who shall make to sleep the harmony of heaven? there seems to have been had in mind the old doctrine of the music of the spheres (see Ps. 19:5), and נבלים to have been taken as meaning harps. It is a beautiful thought: who can mate to sleep that everlasting harmony? but it is not in harmony with the context. [862]Ver. 41. And wander. This is the literal rendering of יתעו, but it can hardly mean outward wandering or flying about, which would seem forbidden by the context. It may be taken to denote wandering, or lapse of mind, if used of rational beings; as in Isai. 28:7, it is used to denote intoxication. As applied to the young ravens, it may denote their ravening appetite. But the question is: why is the raven selected for an illustration here, and in other parts of the Scriptures, as in Ps. 147:9, and by our Saviour, Luke 12:24? It seems to have been universal in the East, as appears from Hariri, Seance XIII., Vol. I., p. 151, De Sacy’s Ed.: “O thou who nearest the young raven in his nest?”—abandoned in his nest, as the supposed fact is stated by the Scholiast, and for which he gives a ridiculous reason: “the young raven,” he says, “when it first breaks the egg, comes forth perfectly white, on seeing which the parents flee with terror; and when this takes place, Allah sends to it the flies which fall in the nest. And so it remains for forty days, when its feathers become black, and the father and mother return to it.” It is not mere helplessness. The pathos is doubtless aided by the idea of the hideousness of the bird, which appears especially in the young. Had it been the dove it might have sounded prettier to us; but there is here no mere sentimentality; no mere utilitarianism. God’s “tender mercies are over all His works;” but it is also true that He “hath compassion on whom He will have compassion.” The Divine sovereignty is the great lesson here taught, and our very deformities, as appears Gen. 8:21, may draw His mercy. [863]Ver. 1. Hinds bring forth. Very common and near events, but all having a mystery beyond any explanation of human knowledge, past or present. [864]Ver. 2. Thy numbering. Conant gives the idea here: “Not the mere numbering, for that would be a very easy thing, but the original determination of the times.” So in the second clause: It is the mystery of parturition, its regularity, its suddenness, its inexplicable pains. [865]Ver. 3. Cleave the Womb. Grammatically יַלְדֵיהֶן is the object of תְּפַלַּחְנָה; but it comes to the same thing whether we render the word causatively, or as above. Lit., she makes them cleave. [866]Ver. 3. Their sorrows. Their sharp pangs. They are here spoken of as identified with the offspring. There is a great mystery here, whether we regard it as a moral one,—the parturition pangs of the animal as a curse from the fall of man,—or a purely physical one. Why does nature seem “to stumble here,” as Cudworth says; or if she has been from eternity “selecting the best,” why has she not, ages ago, reached the easier way? There is something very touching in this second clause: Their sorrows they cast forth. In the case of the human subject how pathetic the language of our Saviour, John 16:21: “A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow because her hour is come; but when she is delivered she no longer remembers her pain because of joy that one hath been born into the world.” Delitzsch happily compares תְּשַׁלַּחְנָה here with the ῥίψαι ὠδῖνα. of Æsch.Agam. 1417, and Eurip. Ion. 45. [867]Ver. 4. The plains. בָּר the open field used collectively for all abroad. Latin, foras. [868]Ver. 5. The Zebra’s bands. The tautology of E. V., is intolerable. Delitzsch attempts to hide it under his two words Wildesel and Wildling; as Umbreit also under Waldesel and esel. The עָרוֹד must be something different from the פֶּרֶא. There is but little authority for rendering it zebra, but it suits the passage (the wild horse coming after the wild ass) and almost anything is better than the tautology. The next verse may be taken as referring to the ערוד alone. [869]Ver. 8. Roams he searching. The participial form is used as combining with ידרוש the verbal sense of exploration in יתור. [870]Ver. 8. Every blade of grass. The Hebrew idiom in such cases makes כל distributive. [871]Ver. 9. The Oryx. E.V., unicorn. Most commentators now make it the wild ox, noted for its flerceness. [872]Ver. 9. Willing slave. The translation may be free, but it closely combines the sense of אבה and עבד. [873]Ver. 10. To plane. שִׂדֵּד, rendered to harrow; more correctly complanavit. See Hos. 10:11. Hence from the allied Lamed He form שָׂדֶה, the plain, campus. [874]Ver. 13. The Ostrich wing. E. V., The peacock. The description that follows unmistakably points out the ostrich called here רְנָנִים, the plural, from her sharp, ringing cries. [875]Ver. 13. The stork. הסידה is the well-known name of this bird,—the pious, so called from the care she takes for her parents and her young, here contrasted with the ἀστοργία, or want of natural affection, in the ostrich. The אם is indirectly a denial. Instead of the construct state, wing of the stork, the word is taken rather as an adjective: the stork wing. So נֹצָה feather, plumage, is descriptive. It is the full, warm, thick-feathered wing of the one bird, as contrasted with the scant, featherless membrane of the other, unfitted for flying or hovering. The want of disposition, and the want of adaptation, go together. God made her so in both respects. On the Darwin or Lucretian theory, her poor flapper, which she uses so much, ought to have become a warm, well-feathered pinion ages ago. [876]Ver. 14. Nay. The denial comes out more strongly in the כי which gives a reason for the contrast. And thus there is better preserved the main idea of both verses, namely, the variety of qualities displayed in the works of God. The ancient versions are very dark here. The LXX. does not pretend to translate, simply turning the Hebrew into Greek letters, νεέλασσα, ἀσίδα καὶ νεέσσα. [877]Ver. 16. Hard is she. There is no difficulty with the masculine verb here (הקשיח), since the feminine is only generic. [878]Ver. 17. Made her mindless. E. V.: Deprived her of wisdom, as though they made it from השׁא = השׁה or השׁיא; Ps. 89:23, exigit, taken away from. To make forget (Hiph. of נשׁה) would imply that she once had it. [879]Ver. 18. Boldly lifts herself. Gesenius gives to מרא the sense strinxit (equum flabello). Hence it is rendered she lashes herself. There is little or no authority for this. The idea of flapping her wings had been given before. Here it is evidently something else: her high stature, or her bold bearing, by way of contrast, or set-off to what was said about her stupidity. The Hebrew מרה (for מרא) gives just the idea which the context seems to demand, a bold contumacious spirit. The old versions got very much the same idea, but in a different way, namely, by regarding תמריא as by metathesis for תמרים, which, however, would be a most unusual change. A striking illustration of this passage, thus regarded, is furnished hy Xenophon. Anab. I. 3; Στρουθὸν δὲ οὐδεὶς ἔλαβεν. πολὺ γὰρ ἐπεσπᾶτο φεύγουσα, τοῖς μὲν ποσὶ δρόμῳ, ταῖς δὲ πτέρυξιν ἄρασα ὥσπερ ἱστίῳ χρωμένη.“But no one ever caught the ostrich, for in her flight she kept constantly drawing on the pursuer, now running on foot, and again lifting herself up with her wings spread out, as though she had hoisted her sails.” Compare the Homeric expression Il. II. 462, ἀγαλλόμεναι πτερύγεσσιν. [880]Ver. 19. With thunder. רַעְמָה Fem. of רַעַם the common word for thunder. Some render it here the flowing mane; as φόβη, supposed to come in some way from φὸβος terror. Others, dignity, as though it were the same as ראמה. Vulgate hinnitus, neighing, as resembling thunder. The Hebrew רעם in its primary onomatopic sense of fremitus, trembling, thunder, answers very well when we keep in mind the subjective effect. When we think of the arched neck of the horse in his majestic boundings, of the quivering of the strong muscles, and of the idea of power which so naturally associates itself with these phenomena, we have something that may be called the feeling of thunder if not the outward hearing. There is hyperbole of course; but a perfectly scientific or farrier-like description of the mane, and ears, and neck, etc., might fail in this subjective truthfulness all the more for its objective accuracy, [881] Ver. 20. Glory in his nostrils. There seems no reason for departing here from the usual sense of the Heb. הוד, glory, majesty. it is the impression made by the appearance of the fierce war-horse under the excitement of the coming battle, and by the associations connected with it. Some would render it snorting (Schlottmann, Dillmann). This is implied, but all the more impressively in the usual literal sense of the word. It seems like the emission of smoke and flame from the fierce eyes, and distended nostrils, and the foam of his quick breathings. The representation abounds in the Latin poets; as Claudian: Ignescunt patulæ nares—— Lucretius V. 1076: Et fremitum patulis sub naribus edit ad arma. Virgil Georgics III., 83: ——Tum si qua sonum procul arma dedere Stare loco nescit, micat auribus, et tremit artus Collectumque premens volvit sub naribus ignem. Æschylus, Sept. Theb. 60: ——ἀργηστὴς ἀφρὸς χραίνει σταλαγμοῖς ἱππικῶν ἐκ πνευμονων. The brilliant foam from lungs of snorting steeds. [882]Ver. 21. The armed host, נֶשֶׁק Delitzsch here agrees with E. V. in his rendering gewappneter Schaar. So in Neh. 3:19, נשק armor is used for armory. [883]Ver. 22. By panics undismayed. יֵחָת, thrown into consternation. A stronger word than פחד or ירא. [884]Ver. 23. Against him. Delitzsch renders, over him, but it is the quiver of the foe, not of his rider; as appears ver. 22, 2d clause. Conant and E. V. are more correct. It is the rattling and splintering of lances, as in the contests of the mediæval knights, rather than of Homer’s heroes who fought from chariots, not from steeds. [885]Ver. 24. Swallows the ground. יְגַמֶּא Comp. הַגְמִיא Gen. 24:17. This is the literal rendering in which all agree. The only question is, is it to be taken as actual or metaphorical? Dillmann, Delitzsch, and others regard it as figurative of the rapidity with which he passes over the ground, as “though he devoured it, or sucked it up.” But this may be doubted. The literal view, swallowing, or biting, the ground in rage and impatience, is not at all inappropriate. The time of the description seems to be the moment of the first onset, or of some lull in the battle, just preceding, or in anticipation of, the grand charge. This corresponds well with the undoubted meaning of the second clause. The war-horse is waiting for the signal, and in his angry impatience biting the very ground, in a way, however, not to be confounded with the action described ver. 21. There may be hyperbole here, hut very natural hyperbole, so natural that the reader is hardly conscious of its being hyperbole at all. The other view gives us an exceedingly forced and strained metaphor, unnatural under any circumstances, but far more so as coming in the midst of a description so vividly optical, and actual, as it may be called. The accompanying words are all out of harmony with it. Had it been said, “by his swiftness” he makes the earth vanish from sight, or seems to devour it, it might be more tolerable; but the words in “trembling and rage” are not at all in unison with such a metaphor. “Trembling and rage” denote impatience, but they have little association with the idea of swiftness of motion. There is no warrant for understanding these words of the earth, especially רֹגֶז rage, or restlessness(as used 14:1); and even if it could be done, there would be still less harmony with this supposed metaphor. It would demand the ideas of smoothness and imperceptibility, rather than of trembling and commotion; as when Virgil represents the swiftness of Camilla as to great that her feet made no agitation in the heads of grain over which she was passing. But aside from all this, the metaphor is of that extremely farfetched kind, that it would strike us as an odd conceit even if found in one of the most extravagant of the Arabian poets. Bochart, the great authority for all this, and who is, indeed, the source from whence all later commentators have drawn, gives no example of its use by any Arabic writer, although he is generally so full, even to superfluity, in citations of the kind. He only gives it from the Lexicographer Golius, and the amount of it is, that an Arabic verb להם, in the VIII conj. אלתהם, has for one of its many senses to swallow, and that among its noun derivatives there is להים (lahim) that means a swift horse, because, as the Arabian Lexicographer Djeuharius says, he seems to swallow the ground. No author is cited. If such a strained metaphor were found anywhere, it could hardly be lacking in Ahmed’s History of Timour (an extensive work, noted for its far-fetched metaphorical conceits, which form almost its entire contents) and Hariri’s Seances, which are a perfect storehouse of strange similes of this kind goind to the utmost limits of intelligibility. Neither this figure of the horse swallowing the ground, as denoting rapidity, nor anything like it, is found in either of them, as it is not in that most serious Arabian classic, the Koran. All, therefore, that Bochart really gives in support of this notion, in which so many have followed him, is but the unauthorized dictum of a Lexicographer. The classical phrases carpere campum, rapere viam, it requires but little thought to see, are of a wholly different character. Rapio, corripio denote swiftness or hurry by another figure, that of seizing or carrying along, not of swallowing. And then again there is the conclusive ground that the idea of a racing or swiftly chasing horse, interferes with that is most graphic in the whole picture, and especially with the closely connected 2d clause of this verse. [886]Ver. 24. ’Tis hard to bold him in. This may seem like a free rendering of לא יאמין, but it may, notwithstanding, give the precise idea. E. V. and Conant render believeth not. So Schlottmann: Kaum glaubt es. Delitzsch, better: und verbleibt nicht, stands not still; Umbreit: und hält nicht Stand. So Dillmann. This corresponds well to the primary sense of האמין ,אמן, which is firmness, whence comes the idea of faith. He does not stand firm (he is restless, comp רגז above). Conant’s references to 9:16; 29:12, deserve attention, but the context here makes a great difference. The rendering, he cannot believe it, goes too much into the horse’s subjective, or his imagination, to have force when all else is so outwardly descriptive. It sounds, moreover, tame and forced: he cannot believe it, why not? He has heard trumpets sound often enough. The other view whilst agreeing with the clearest senses of האמין brings every thing else into harmony, besides shedding an unmistakable light on the first clause. It is in the beginning, or in an interval of the battle. The trumpets, as is usual in cavalry tactics, are giving the marshalling signals, but the time is not quite come for the signal of the grand charge. The war-horse bites the ground in his impatience, and, at every sound, it is almost impossible to hold him. An admirabie classical illustration of this is one given in a previous note (19 Ver. 20 from Virg. Georg. III. 83. It is cited by Conant, and it should have led him, we think to the other view of יאמין. [887]Ver. 26. Soars aloft. אבר. In altum enisus est—sich emporschwingen, Gesenius. It is a stronger and more poetical word than עוף. [888]Ver. 29. His piercing eye. This rendering and the epithet are chosen as giving nothing more than the clear etymological sense of חפר. Literally, digs, penetrates. [889]Ver. 30. Suck, יְעַלְעוּ. an intensive form from לוע, for which some would read יְלַעַלְעוּ, and others לַעְלְעוּ. It is an onomatope, either way, denoting a most voracious sucking or swallowing. [890]Ver. 1. And Jehovah answered. A pause seems intended here. The voice ceases for a while, but soon is it heard again from the tornado cloud in a somewhat severer strain, though immediately turning again to a tone of respect and encouragement for Job. The opening words are exclamatory, commencing with the abrupt use of the infinitive. [891]Ver. 2. Censurer. יִסּור was taken by the old versions, and the old commentators generally, as a verb, although of an anomalous form. Gesenius satisfactorily shows it to be a noun of the form גִּבּוֹר, with an Intensive meaning: rebuker, censurer. [892]Ver. 3. Answered; as though called out in answer to the יעננה above. [893]Ver. 4. Lo I am vile. קלתי: Levis sum; I am light,—of small account: Lat. vilis in the sense of cheapness, and carrying also the idea expressed by the English word used by E. V. [894]Ver. 5. Yea twice. Rashi refers this to two particular speeches of Job, 9:22, 23 (see Int. Theism, p. 36), but it is evidently a general formula for repeated utterance. [895]Ver. 12. Behold the lofty. Compare Isaiah 2:12. 17, and the speech of Artabanus, Herodotus 7:10. It abounds in Orientalisms, as indeed Herodotus does in other places more than any other Greek writer. [896]Ver. 12. In their place. תחתם. See Note 34:2, 6; 36:20. [897]Ver. 13. Darkness. For the force of טָמוּן compare 20:26 כל חשך טמון לצפוניו. It may mean here the deepest dungeons into which proud tyrants are sometimes thrown in God’s retributive providence. Job had charged Him with giving up the world into the hands of the wicked, 9:24. [898]Ver. 14. Confess to thee. The later commentators render אודך “I will praise Thee.” E. V., “confess to Thee,” or profess—without the need of any preposition. [899]Ver. 15. Behemoth. Most commentators have regarded this word as intensive plural of בהמה (big ox). This seems to suit very well a monster of the grass-feeding kind; but Delitzsch gives excellent reasons for regarding it as a Hebraized Egyptian word p-ehe-mau—river ox. It should rather be called boupotamos, as it has no reference to a horse. Since Bochart’s very full discussion, there has hardly been any doubt about the animal intended here. Parts of the description following can in no way be accommodated to the elephant. The objection of its being an animal not found in the land of Uz, applies equally to both, and is of no force in either case. It was an animal not common, not often seen there, doubtless, but certainly heard of, and in this way well known as among the wonders of the adjacent Southern countries. On this account, both the river ox and the crocodile were better adapted to the design of the address from the fact of their being strange productions of neighboring lands, often heard of from the relations of travellers, and having the more interest for that very reason. [900]Ver. 15. He eateth grass. There is great force in thus bringing into the foreground of the picture this simple trait of the mighty animal. He is graminivorous like the ox. His simple mode of life is thus first given as furnishing the most impressive contrast with his huge size, his irresistible strength, and his immense powers of destruction should he be aroused to exert them. [901]Ver. 16. The muscles. The rendering navel, as given by E. V., and the old commentators generally, would require שֹׁרֶר or שׁר, as in Cant. 7:3; Prov. 3:8. The primary sense of firmness is quite common in the Syriac. Hence it is well rendered muscle or sinew. “The loins and the belly are mentioned because they immediately call up to our imagination, the form of the beast’s huge circumference, and of the mighty pillar-like feet, the whole assuming a wonderful and almost quadrangular aspect.” Schlottmann. [902]Ver. 17. Waveth he. It seems like an unnecessary resort to the Arabic to get a meaning for so common and so significant a verb as חפץ, especially when we consider the contrast, which is between the unyielding firmness of his huge thighs, and the flexibility of his tail, whether short or long. חפץ to will, here, to move at pleasure. It obeys the slightest volition, huge as it may be. The waving cedar, or cedar-branch, is used to indicate this. We cannot believe that stumpiness, as some make it, is in either case the point of the comparison. [903]Ver. 17. His thighs. This is the common Arabian sense of פחד when thus used. If that of E. V. is correct, it is probably an euphemism from the old Hebrew sense Verenda—pudenda. [904] Ver. 18. Bones—limbs. The words עצם and גרם are each commonly rendered bone; but in such a description as this they must be taken to mean things different though similar. The latter word may have been intended for the ribs or more flexible bones, or the limbs generally, as Renan renders it: Ses membres sont des barres de fer. [905]Ver. 19. Brings nigh his sword. This is the most literal rendering that can be given. According to E. V., and most of the older commentators cited in Poole’s Synopsis, it means that God only can reach him with the sword. If it is the hippopotamus it becomes very clear. The folds of his skin are so thick that no human arm can drive the sword through them. Even the most powerful of modern shooting weapons fail unless aimed at the eye, or some known vital part: The later authorities, Umbreit, Schlottmann, Dillmann, etc., render it: His Maker reaches to him (gives him) his sword (Behemoth’s sword). The old rendering seems better for the reason above given. The absence of the pronoun and preposition, לו, or אליו, is a difficulty, but less to the old rendering than to the new. Delitzsch endeavors to obviate this by saying that the language does not literally teach the giving (reaching) his sword to him, but creating him with it. Why then is such a common word יגֵּשׁ used in such an uncommon way ? Moreover, there is nothing about the hippopotamus that can be called a sword. There are a couple of gigantic incisors with which he reaps the grass, but they would never suggest the idea of a sword. Delitzsch compares them to sickles (ἅρπη, harpu = חרב hereb) but there are two of them, and that would require the dual or the plural (his two swords or sickles) especially in an account so graphic as this. [906]Ver. 20. And yet. כי, here, is commonly rendered for, denn, because, as though his feeding on the hills, with other animals around him, gave a reason for his being called “chief of the ways of God,” ver. 19, or for what is said in the second clause, whichever meaning we attach to it. This is very unsatisfactory. It rather seems to have an adversative sense. The primary office of the particle כי is to call attention to anything. This it does by showing a reason or motive, most frequently a reason for, but, oftentimes a reason against; as has before been remarked. In the first case it is rendered for, because, etc.; in the second, although, yet, notwithstanding. This seems to make the best sense, and the best connection in this place. It calls attention to the peaceful nature of Behemoth, notwithstanding “he is chief of the ways of God,” and notwithstanding the fact that superhuman strength alone can pierce the strong fortifications furnished by the thickness and firmness of his skin. It is a very striking picture, this immense animal peacefully feeding on grass, and the weaker species sporting beside him. [907]Ver. 23. A Jordan. The mention of the Jordan, although he is not a resident near it, is all the more natural and the more impressive for the reasons given at the end of Note 10, ver. 15. your Jordan, large as you may think it to be, he would regard as of little account. [908]Ver. 24. As though he took it with his eyes. That is, the swelling river. The idea of irony, that common resort in difficulty, seems wholly out of place here. The version above given in very literal; the making it comparative is warranted by the context, whilst the clue to the second clause, and to the connection, we think, is found in the idea of an intended contrast between nose and eyes. He calmly looks at the swelling river without being startled. He takes it all in his eye. It is certainly an easier and more natural metaphor than the swallowing the ground metaphorically by the war-horse 39:24. Just so his huge rooting proboscis disdains every species of snare. As the irony breaks up all connection between vers. 23 and 24. so the other view of his easy capture is not only at war with facts, but seems to belittle the whole of the preceding description. [909]Ver. 1. His tongue. Schlottmann makes לשון the object of תשקיע: “press down his tongue with a cord.” So Umbreit. Delitzsch: “sink his tongue into the line.” Our E. V. is clearer and more grammatical in making לשון the object of משך the verb in the first clause, and taking בחבל as בחכה. The verb תשקיע would then be used relatively: which thou sinkest; thus keeping its usual sense as in Ezek. 32:14. The other rendering would refer to the tongue after he is drawn out, but that does not agree with תשקיע, which means to sink in the water. It is the thick tongue of the crocodile, into which the hook (חַכָּה hakka) would most readily fasten itself, should he attempt to swallow the bait. [910]Ver. 6. The caravans. The modern idea of guilds, or partnerships, has no place here. The sense used for כרה is the true one as found in Deut. 2:6; Hos. 3:2, and in the frequent Arabic use of the IIId conjugation. [911]Ver. 6. Retail. Hebrew יחצוהו, out him up—divide him into smaller portions. [912]Ver. 6. The Canaanites. So Delitzsch, Ewald, Schlottmann. There is no reason for departing from the usual sense. The passage reminds us of the caravans, which, in Joseph’s time, went down to Egypt (Gen. 43:11) with various commodities, in return for which they carried back to the people products of Egypt, among which, most probably, were fish from the Nile. It is an evidence of the antiquity of the book, unless there is interposed the objection, which grows weaker the more it is studied, that the writer cunningly adapts everything to the patriarchal times, without ever forgetting himself, or failing in any part of his picture. [913]Ver. 7. Fishing spears. צִלְצַל דָּגִים, so called from their sharp ringing or whizzing sounds. [914]Ver. 10. None so desperate. אַכְזָר and אַכְזָרִי fierce, reckless, cruel, atrox. See Prov.5:9; 17:11; Isaiah 13:9; Jerem. 30:14; Lam. 4:3; Deut. 32:33; Job 30:21. Its use here, in connection with the word יעִורנו, affords a satisfactory explanation of the phrase עֹרֵר לִוְיָתָן to rouse Leviathan (ch. 3:8) as the translator has rendered it in that passage: ready to rouse Leviathan; most desperate or despairing men. With such an exegesis, furnished by the book itself, and in the very words, it seems unnecessary to resort to that far-fetched idea of some later commentators, namely, the anti-hebraic and anti-patriarchal notion of “enchanters who rouse, up the dragon to swallow the sun in an eclipse.” [915]Ver. 10. (His Maker.) The transition is so sudden that the words in brackets do no more than give its force. [916]Ver. 12. In silence pass; or be silent about. Delitzsch, although giving this rendering, seems to admit that it is tame. It will seem so unless we keep in mind the connection of thought. The anthropopathisms of the passage do not, as we have seen, at all detract from the idea of a Divine speaker. The two preceding verses contained an exclamation, as though God, speaking more humano, makes a sudden application of what had been said, turning, as it were, for a moment, from this mighty work of His to recall the hearer to a remembrance of his own infinitely greater power. This most briefly done, he resumes again the description, coming back to it as to something that might have been passed over: “I must not omit:” “I must not keep silence about.” [917]Ver. 12. His well-proportioned build. The reading contains both ideas about which commentators slightly vary, whether it be הִין a measure, or חֵן = הִין, grace, beauty. Both may be regarded as belonging to the word in either, though one is predominant in each, ערך; array, fitness of arrangement. Hence order, proportion. The crocodile is not beautiful strictly, but there is something very regular in his build. [918]Ver. 13. His coat of mail. לְבוּשׁוֹ, his thick scaly hide, and especially the front of it, or that strong part of it which covers his face and teeth. [919]Ver. 13. The doubling of his jaw. Heb. רֶסֶן primarily a bit or bridle, here put for the jaw or jaws in which it is inserted. [920] Ver. 14. How terrible! Renan: Autour de ses dents habite la terreur. [921]Ver. 15. ’Tis a proud sight. גַּאֲוָה. Lit., pride, glory. The reference is to the curious contexture of his scales. [922]Ver. 18. His sneezings. It more properly means his water spoutings, which sparkle in the light of the sun, especially in the early morning to which the second clause refers. See ch. 3:19. See Schlottmann’s reference to Aristotle. [923]Ver. 19. Burning lamps. The translation of E. V., the most literal, and better corresponding to the appearance than flames or sparks. Schlottmann, Fackel. The glistening bubbles on the water. There is hyperbole, indeed, but truthful hyperbole, because just what such phenomena would suggest. [924]Ver. 19. Set free. יתמלטו, make their escape. [925]Ver. 20. Seething pot. E.V.; though applied to דוד. Dr. Conant renders אגמון reeds (a kettle with kindled reeds). The construction seems against it. אגמון has the appearance here of the names of some vessel like דוד, although the other sense has more examples. The primary idea of אגם is fermentation, heat, boiling. Hence comes אָגָם warm, stagnant water, full of air bubbles, probably—palus, marsh. Thence the name for that which grows in such damp places, the reed or flag, very ill adapted to making a fire of. Hence the sense of a boiling vessel derived directly from the primary idea. It is an example of the variety of verbal branches that may grow from one root. [926] Ver. 21. A tongue of flame. להב does not of itself mean fire; but rather a splendor in the shape of a tongue or prolonged stream flickering and waving like a licking tongue. Hence the classical figure lambens flamma. We need not trouble ourselves about the scientific accuracy of this description; neither on that account are we to discard it as hyperbolical, or unworthy of a Divine address. God should talk scientifically, that is, accurately, it is said, if He speaks at all. But when will scientific language be settled so as to be never unsettled? Besides, this in emotional language, a Divine painting, as we have said, wholly descriptive so as to produce a subjective or emotional effect. It is addressed to the feeling as the most truthful part of our nature. Such is this emotional state which the very sight of the animal, especially in some peculiar positions, produces in the mind. It was this which gave rise to the description of Achilles Tatius as cited by Schlottmann: μυκτὴρ ἐπὶ μέγα κεχῃνῶς, καὶ πνέων πυρώδη καπνὸν ὡς ἀπὸ πηγῆς πυρός: “a nostril gaping to an immense extent, and breathing out a flaming smoke as from a fountain of fire.” Travellers who mean to be strictly truthful are often under this influence, and their wonderful descriptions thus produced, are sometimes nearer to the life, in the sense mentioned, than the most statistical accounts. Let any one compare, for example, the present picture of the animal with the most scientific record of the creature, presented with an idealess accuracy in their scientific technics: “Crocodile, genus saurianum, reptile; cauda elongata, etc.; or to put it into Latin English: “the vertebræ concave anteriorly, convex posteriorly, having intercalated processes, the lower jaw longer than the cranium—the condyles of the temporal bones corresponding to ossa quadrata placed behind the articulation of the head,” etc., etc. All well enough as minutes or memorial measurements of the creature, and very useful in their way. But then let the reader of such an acoount see a real live crocodile just rising out of the depths, as described by a traveller whom Schlottmann quotes: Ein dicker Rauch strömte aus seinen weitgeöfneten Nasenlöchern mit einem Geräusche welches beinahe die Erde erschütterte: A thick smoke streamed out of his wide-opened nostril holes with a roaring which almost made the earth to tremble.” Or let him compare it with the impression,—the truthful impression we mean,—made by this sublimes description in the Book of Job. It would at once decide the question of the higher, that is, the emotional truthfulness. And here the remark has place that in speaking of anthropopathic language we are to avoid the idea of any pretense, or mere accommodation on the part of God, as of a parent to children in a childish way, or of a wise man condescending to the use of incorrect language to the ignorant. No, it is the Infinite coming really down into the finite sphere, as He must be able to do if He is truly Infinite and “can do all things.” It is the parent, not talking childish simply, but really becoming the child, for the moment, and go speaking in his own, as he speaks in the child’s vernacular. Can we have any difficulty here, after knowing that the Infinite Word became flesh, and took our human tabernacle, and in all things felt and spoke, earnestly and sincerely, as we feel and speak, yet never, for a moment, parting from His eternal and essential Deity? [927] Ver. 22. Terror runs. Not the terror of the fugitive merely, but Terror personified as the avant coureur of the mighty beast, running joyfully, or dancing before him. In some versions רוץ may have been taken for דוץ. But though the latter word only occurs once, its significance would be most plain, were it not so clear in the Syriac and the Arabic. דְּאָבָה is the extreme terror that produces faintness. Renan’s rendering is very vivid: Devant lui bondit la terreur. [928]Ver. 26. May reach him. The verb הַשִּׂיג in its sense attigit, asseculus est, reached, come nigh to, closely resembles הִגֵּשׁ 40:19; and the similarity of the expressions strongly confirms the view taken there. [929]Ver. 28. Are turned. נֶופּכּוּ; see Note 28:5. [930]Ver. 29. Like stubble are they held. נחשבו. This plural verb seems to have תותח alone for its subject, but it belongs as well to כִּידוֹן that follows. [931]Ver. 30. Sharp pointed shards, חַדּוּדֵי חָרֶשׂ, sharp points of broken potsherds, like that mentioned 2:8, which “Job took to scrape himself with,”—a number of times used in Scripture to express fragmentary or broken things. But does it mean any parts of the animal, as some think: the under or belly scales that leave their mark upon the miry bed of the river, (as though a thrashing drag had been drawn over it) or rather sharp things below him at the bottom of the river? Delitzch favors the former idea, together with Conant and Schlottmann. The translator follows them, though there are strong objections. The belly scales are not hard nor sharp. [932]Ver. 31. The Nile. It is called ים or the sea by the Arabians, or Al-bahar as it is at this day denoted. For ים thus used, see Kor. Surat 20:39. [933]Ver. 34. Everything exalted: Every animal that seems to tower above it, or every proud assailant who thinks hint an easy capture. [934]Ver. 34. The sons of pride. The proudest of the wild beasts. He attacks Behemoth himself. שחץ, however, is used as descriptive of any very fierce wild beast of the wilderness or of the desert. See 28:8. Vulgate: filios superbiæ. [935]Ver. 2. All things are in thy power. If we would know the aim of this address, or the question it answers, and on which commentators have bo differed, we have the solution here in the very words of Job. His submission reveals the design of this wondrous display of power. Job certainly did not miss the point; for the whole object, (unless, as Merx does, we suppose the whole dramatic plan to be a failure) was to convince him of it. And he is convinced. He sees it as he never saw it before; Omnipotence not to be doubted or distrusted from suspicion of any fatality in things, or absolute sovereignty never to be called in question. See more fully on this in the Introduction on the Theism of the book, pp. 21–25, and 40, 41. [936]Ver. 3 Who is this? As though the words struck him in a new light. [937]Ver. 3. ’Tis I then. He repeats the words of the Almighty as though he saw a force in them he never saw before, and makes a personal application of them to himself in a way not expressed, or inadequately expressed, at their former utterance. Now he confesses that, whatever reference they may have bad to Elihu. or to others, they certainly include himself. He is the man who has talked so wildly. He says nothing, thinks nothing, of others. He is alone in the presence of God whose appearance he had invoked. See Remarks in Note on 38:2, and Int. Theism, p. 26. [938]Ver. 4.O hear me now. Intensive force of נא, the particle of entreaty. He had twice said he would add no more, 31:40; 40:5: but now he asks for a single word, and to enforce it, repeats the words of the Almighty in the 2d clause. [939]Ver. 4. (Thou saidst it.) The feeling of the dramatic action might be enough, but these words in brackets simply give the meaning which the unimpassioned reader might mistake. As he had before done, ver. 3, so here Job repeats to himself the language of 38:3 (2d clause) in the very words as they were uttered by God. It is the ground of the one declaration he wishes to make. So Renan. [940]Ver. 5. By the ear’s hearing. A traditional knowledge, a traditional theism. Now it is something far deeper, and clearer, whether an actual visual sight of some Divine glory, or something so described, as being as much greater than former knowledge as the sense of the eye excels that of the ear. [941]Ver. 6. This then. עַל כֵּן must refer to this one thing he wishes to say. “It is on this account I asked Thee to hear me as Thou hast given me permission.” Propterea. For this one word. What is in brackets simply indicates the emphasis of the appeal. This is shown by the difficulty of giving עַל כֵּן any strictly logical meaning here. [942]Ver. 6. (Mine only word.) Belonging to the emphasis. [943]Ver. 6. I loathe me. The verb מאם is often used without an object, as it is here, and there is no reason why it is not to be supposed to be a personal as well as an impersonal object that is understood. The rendering, I loathe, or I reject it, that is, my argument, comes to the same thing. [944]Ver. 7. Spoken unto me. E. V., and most others, ancient and modern, render it spoken, de me, or concerning me; LXX. ἐνώπιόν μου; Vulgate, coram me. Aben Ezra maintains that it “pertains solely to the. confession which Job had made unto God and the others had not;” and hence he would translate it, to me. The difference is important, and for the reason of adopting here for אֵלַיִ the sense which is, indeed, the more usual and almost universal one, see the Introduction on the Theism of the book, page 35. The view there taken, however, might be maintained, even if we give to אל the less common sense of de, or concerning. [945]Ver. 7. The thing that is firm. See also the Int. Theism, page 36. נְכוֹנָה, primary sense firmness, stability, that which will stand, just the tiling that ought to be said. The whole aspect of the context gives the idea of some single right saying in distinction from an extended argument. [946]Ver. 8. But his face will I accept. E. V., “For his face.” The particle is כִּי אִם, commonly rendered but, and Conant seems right in saying that it refers to the implication in the preceding clause, namely, that their prayer would not be accepted. [947]Ver. 9. The face of Job. To lift up the face is something more than mere acceptance. It denotes grace, favor. [948]Ver. 10. Prayed for his friends. Job was a priest after the order of Melchizedeck, and so a type of the Great High Priest who forgave his sins, and “bore his infirmities, and carried all his sicknesses.” [949]Ver. 16. Lived after this. This does not necessarily mean, in addition to this. Such language may denote that he lived on, after this, until he reached the age of a hundred and forty years, making his years seven less than the number of Jacob’s. There is no one of the patriarchs who lived, as long as the other reckoning would make him,—at the least two hundred years. If, therefore, it was the invention of “the poet,” the “first poet,” or the “second,” or even the third (”the Doppelgänger of the first,” as Delitzsch strangely intimates) he would hardly have placed him so far back. Moreover, “sons and sons of sons, four generations,” would be rather moderate for a longevity so great as this reckoning would make. [950] Lokman, as quoted in the Kitab ’ulagani; Koss, as cited by Sharastani, 437 (Cureton’s Ed.), and Hariri, Seance 25. [951] This would seem to be the real meaning of Pliny, H. N. xxiii. 4, 21, though quoted by Zöckler and Delitzsch in favor of the shaft-idea: Is qui cædit funibus pendet, ut procul intuenti species e ferarum quidem sed alitum fiat. Pendentes majori ex parte librant et lineas itineri præducunt. The words in Italics, especially, give this idea of swinging from lofty rocks or precipices, ad thus carrying on the lines of their farther progress; so that to the spectator at a distance they look like birds in the air. It is all inconsistent with the idea of persos descending in a narrow hole, or shaft, by means of a windlass. It suggests rather the idea of scouts, explorers, and the language of Job is in perfect harmony with the same conception. [952] Those who adopt the idea of the shaft have two ways of interpreting מני רגל. Ons refers it to the fact that they are no longer supported in the usual way, by the foot, but held up by the rope. The other would regard it as denoting that they are beneath the foot of the person above, at the opening of the shaft, the גר, or remainer, so called because he stays behind. A much easier clue to the meaning is obtained from its resemblance to the familiar Greek phrase, ἐκ ποδῶν, to denote one who is out of the way, far off. When in the singular, ἐκ ποδός, as in Pindar, Nem. 7: 99, it becomes identical with it. [953] From εἶδος, species, kind (a kind of fire, to use an expressive vulgarism), like the Hebrew מין. It may mean force of fire, or fiery force; as Cicero says, omnia ad igneam vim referent, or as Pliny 8: 38, 57. speaks of the “fiery color of gems.” [954] The action of fire, or the pyrogenous nature of substances found in the earth, and especially in the neighborhood of volcanoes, is unmistakable. Says prof. Perkins of Union College, a most reliable authority on these matters, “All of the precious stones (proper), such as the sapphire, diamond, ruby, etc., have most probably, at one time, been in a melted state. So gold, silver, copper, in many instances, are found in such a state as to indicate that they have not only been melted, but heated to such a temperature that they have been vaporized and deposited in the fissures of the rocks.” Again he says: “In the lava from volcanoes, when it is cooled, bright crystals are found in little cavities, resembling, in their physical properties, crystals found in the rocks far away from volcanoes, and which, in the memory of man, have not been in an active state.” Science arranges such facts, and draws its conclusions from them; but the appearances struck the contemplative mind in ancient times, and, besides direct notices, there is much in language, and especially in the names for gems and metallic substances, that indicates the same early observation. [955] There would seem to be denoted something of an elemental distinction, in the nearest way the Hebrew language could express it, though, in fact, it differs from the Greek only in putting the qualitative sign at the beginning, instead of the end of the word. Thus the Rabbinical writers use the similar particle כַּמָּה, and the noun כַּמּוּת, derived from it, for quantity. It is commonly said, that the ancients held earth, air, fire and water to be the four elements; but it would be more correct to Bay, that they used these words as representative, not of simple substances, in our modern chemical sense, but of four supposed states of matter, like fluid, solid, gaseous, etc. All things were only varied forms of the same matter ever passing into different states. This is a very old thought that the human mind, in some way, had become possessed of long before the dawn of any exact inductive science. It is, in fact, the old Orphic Protean fable: the first matter taking all forms—all things turning into each other—the same matter, yet different things, because having different forms; as, on the other hand, it might be different matter, coming and going, yet the same thing, because preserving the same form, idea or law. Modern science, though she laughs at alchemy, has not yet exploded this. The denominating the four elementary states of matter by the names earth, fire, water, etc., was a mere accommodation. When the Greeks wished to be more exact, they used derivative words with a qualitative termination, such as γήινος, πυροειδὴς, etc. We have a good example, Plato De Leg. 895 D: Ἐὰν ἴδωμέν που ταύτην γενομένην ἐν τῷ γηίνῳ, ἢ ἐνύδρῳ, ἢ ΠΥΡΟΕΙΔΕΙ, τί ποτε φήσομεν ἐν τῷ τοιούτῳ πάθος εἶναι. [956] The beauty of this comparison of the righteous to the palm tree cannot be better expressed than in the words of the Rt. Rev. John Saul Howson, in Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, Article PALM: “The Righteous shall flourish, etc.; it suggests a world of illustration, whether respect be had to the order and regular aspect of the tree, its fruitfulness, the perpetual greenness of its foliage, or the height at which its foliage grows, as far as possible from Earth, and as near as possible to Heaven.” [957] Everything in the context goes to show that ver. 40 of that chapter is the real peroration of Job’s speech. It is in the vindicatory style of the whole chapter, pervading it throughout, and resumed at ver. 38, whilst vers. 35, 36 and 37 form one of those passionate parenthetical outbursts interspersed here and there, as in vers. 6–11 12–23–28, and which, while making the speech more irregular and impetuous, add greatly, on that very account, to its rhetorical force. The whole chapter is a most solemn appeal, an answering “like a hero-man with his loins girded,” just as God bids him do, 38:3. It is, in fact, a continued oath, and its sharp imprecatory clause, ver. 40: “Let thistles grow instead of wheat” (let my land be cursed, if the injustice and oppression you charge me with, chap. 22, be true; equivalent to our “So help me God”), forms the most fitting conclusion that can be imagined. It should be remembered, too, that although Job appeals to the Almighty, 31:35, the whole chapter is a vindication of himself from the injustice of his friends, and has no reference to any plan or counsel of God, such as Delitzsch supposes to be intended by עֵצָה, 38:2. [958] Dillmann thinks the article has no significance, because “always, whenever God draws nigh in majesty, or as a Judge of the earth, it is usually the case that the whirlwind announces find attends his coming.” It would have been well had he pointed out some cases where the whirlwind itself is not announced, or some account given of it in narration, or some intimation of its coming or presence in the scene itself. The argument is just the other way; since, if this view be taken, there is no other case like it in all Scripture. [959] To this there might seem opposed the frequent declarations of the Pentateuch: “And the Lord spake unto Moses;” but in them no outward appearances are mentioned at all, which at once destroys any parallelism between such cases and this: “The Lord spake out of a whirlwind.” There is, moreover, no reason to believe that there were any theophanic appearances at all in such communications. A veil is thrown over the whole subject; but they were most likely wholly subjective, or through nothing more outward than the oracle, the Shekinah, or the Urim and Thummim. So of many of the prophetic revelations. We may regard them as mainly subjective by dreams, or otherwise, not specified because of their frequency. An objective vision is always minutely and even pictorially detailed, as Isai. 6 and Ezek. 1. [960] This, of course, is a rejection of the Elihu portion. So the Rationalist Commentators say boldly. Delitzsch, however, would be thought to maintain its integrity, and even inspiration, as a true part of Holy Scripture. But nothing seems more illogical (pace tanti viri would we say it) than his attempt to do this, in what he has to say about “the older poet” and “ the later poet” The argument that would patch Scripture in this way would prove the LXX. and Syriac Versions to be also parts of the Scriptural canon. [961] The remark of Umbreit on this language is general: Ein demüthigendes Wort fur die philosophischen Kämpfer! It is most probable, however, that he has Elihu in view, of whom he has a very poor opinion, as a pretentious prattler, although he admits, and gives some very good arguments for, the genuineness of the pertion characteristic by regarding him as ingeniously designed by the author as a Sort of foil to the other speakers. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 8: 01.7. METRICAL VERSION OF KOHELETH ======================================================================== METRICAL VERSION OF KOHELETH BY THE AMERICAN EDITOR INTRODUCTION ________________ POETICAL CHARACTER OF THE BOOK ________________ [Stuart asserts that Koheleth is not poetry. Hitzig treats it very much in the same way, as essentially a formal prose ethical treatise. It is not too much to say that this overlooking the true poetical character and spirit of the composition, is, with both these commentators, the cause of much frigid exegesis, and false rhetorical division. There is, however, high authority for the other view [see Lowth’s Heb. Poetry, p. 205, 411, Eichhorn Einleitung, Vol. V., 250, 228, and Jahn’s Introduction to the Old Testament]. Ewald is decided for its poetical character, and ably maintains it. “A genuine poetic inspiration,” he says, “breathes through it all” [see Zöckler’s Introduction, § 2, Remark 3, p. 10]. He, however, regards some parts as prose (such as the little episode 9:13–16), or as mere historical narrative, which seem to present the poetic aspect, both in the thought and in the measured diction. Thus the allusion to the “poor wise man who saved the city” is as rhythmical in its parallelism (when closely examined) as any other parts, whilst it is not only illustrative of what is in immediate proximity, but is also itself of the poetic cast in the manner of its conception. Although Zöckler thus refers to Ewald, his own interpretation seems affected too much by the prosaic idea of a formal didactic treatise, with its regular logical divisions. We have deemed this question entitled to a fuller argument here, because it seems so intimately. connected with a right view of the book, both as a whole and in the explanation of its parts. The whole matter, however, lies open to every intelligent reader. The question is to be decided by the outward form as it appears in the original, and by the peculiar internal arrangement of the thought in its parallelistic relations. This latter is the special outward mark of Hebrew poetry. Though there may not be anything like iambics or dactyls discoverable, even in the Hebrew, yet every reader of the common English Version feels, at once, that he is coming into a new style of diction, as well as of thought and emotion, when, in Genesis 4:23 he finds the plain flow of narrative suddenly changed by a new, and evidently measured, arrangement, calling attention to a peculiar subjective state in the writer or utterer, and putting the reader immediately en rapport with it: Adah and Zillah, hear my voice; Ye wives of Lamech, listen to my speech. So is it also when he finds the inartificial, yet highly eloquent prose narrative of Exodus 14. and chapters preceding, all at once interrupted by a strain commencing thus— I will sing unto Jahveh, for glory! glorious! Horse and his rider hath lie thrown into the sea; or when, after the plainest historical style in Numbers 24., and previously, he is startled by such music of thought and language as this— I shall see Him, but not now; I shall behold Him, but not nigh; There shall come a star out of Jacob; A sceptre shall arise out of Israel. This is not so striking in Koheleth; in some places it is barely discoverable; but such parallelism of thought and diction is really there, to a greater or less extent, and, in many parts, as clearly discernible as in Job or the Psalms; more clearly than in much of Isaiah. Thus, for example, Ecclesiastes 10:20— Not even in thy thought revile the king; Nor in thy chamber dare to curse the rich; The birds of heaven shall carry forth the sound; The swift of wing, the secret word reveal. We may even say that it exists throughout, with a few exceptions, perhaps, that may be regarded as introductory or transition sentences, such as brief descriptions of the writer’s outward state (Ecclesiastes 1:12-13, as also 1:16) and the frequent formulas: “I said in my heart,”—“then I turned again to behold,” etc. But after each of these, the strain goes on as before. It is musing, meditative, measured thought, in a peculiarly arranged diction, sometimes presenting much regularity in its rhythmical movement, as in chaps, 1., 9. and 12., and sometimes seeming so far to lose it that it is known to be poetry only by the inward marks,—that is, the musing cast of thought, and that soul-filling, yet sober emotion which calls up the remoter and more hidden associations, to the neglect of logical or even rhetorical transitions. It is this latter feature that gives to Koheleth an appearance which its name, according to its true etymology, seems to imply—namely, of a collection of thoughts as they have been noted down, from time to time, in the memory or common-place book of a thoughtful man, not aiming to be logical, because he himself knows the delicate links that bind together his ideas and emotions without express grammatical formulas, and which the reader, too, will feel and understand, when he is brought into a similar spiritual state. Such a spiritual transition is aided by the rhythmical form, however slight, producing the feeling that it is truly poetry he is reading, and not outwardly logical statements of dogmatic truth,—in short, that these gnomic utterances are primarily the emotional relief of a meditative soul, rather than abstract ethical precepts, having mainly a scientific or intellectual aspect. In this thought there seems to be found that essential distinction between poetry and prose, which goes below all outward form, whether of style or diction, or which, instead of being arbitrarily dependent on form, makes its form, that is, demands a peculiar dress as its most appropriate, we may even say, its most natural expression. In other words, poetry is ever subjective. It is the soul soliloquizing,—talking to itself, putting in form, for itself, its own thoughts and emotions. Or we might rather say that primarily this is so; because, in a secondary sense, it may still be said to be objective and didactic in its ultimate aim, whilst taking on the other, or subjective, form, as least indicative of a disturbing outward consciousness, and, therefore, its most truly effective mode of expression even for outward uses. That this, however, maybe the more strongly felt on the part of the reader, his mind, as has been already said, must be en rapport with that of the writer, that is, it must get into the same spiritual state, by whatever means, outward or inward, suggestive or even artificial, this may be effected. Poetry is the language of emotion; and it is true of all poetry, even of the soberest and most didactic kind. This emotion may be aroused by the contemplation of great deeds, as in the Heroic poetry, whether of the epic or dramatic kind, or of striking natural objects, as in the descriptive, or of great thoughts contemplated as they arise in the mind, with more of the wonderful or emotional than of the logical or scientific interest. This is philosophical poetry,—the thinker devoutly musing, instead of putting forth theses, or aiming primarily to instruct. The utterance is from the fullness of the spirit, and, in this way, has more of didactic or preceptive power than though such had been the direct objective purpose. We have a picture of such a mind, in such a state, in this philosophical poem of Koheleth, with just enough of rhythmical parallelism to awaken the emotional interest. It is this representation of a bewildered, questioning, struggling soul, perplexed with doubt, still holding fast to certain great fundamental truths regarded rather as intuitions than as theorems capable of demonstration, which makes its great ethical value. This value, however, is found in it chiefly as a whole. It consists in the total impression; and we shall be disappointed, often, if we seek it in the separate thoughts, some of which are exceedingly skeptical, whilst others we may not hesitate to pronounce erroneous. It is this subjective picture which the higher, or the divine, author has caused to be made, preserved, and transmitted to us, for our instruction (πρὸς διδασκαλίαν—προς παιδείαν, see 2 Timothy 3:16), so that alone with some things fundamental, immutable, which the thoughtful soul can never part with, we may also learn how great the darkness that hangs over the problem of the human and the mundane destiny when illuminated by nothing higher than science and philosophy, either ancient or modern. We need not hesitate to say, that so far as these are concerned, the teaching of the book is as important for the 19th century as it was in the days of Koheleth, whoever he may have been, or at whatever early time he may have lived. Stuart thinks differently. Remarking on the affirmations respecting the vanity of what is called “wisdom and knowledge,” he says: “Put such a man as Koheleth, at the present time, in the position of a Laplace, Liebig, Cuvier, Owen, Linnæus, Day, Hamilton, Humboldt, and multitudes of other men in Europe and in America, and he would find enough in the. pursuit of wisdom and knowledge, to fill his soul with the deepest interest, and to afford high gratification.” “But it does not follow [he adds] that Koheleth felt wrongly, or wrote erroneously, at his time, in respect to these matters. Literary and scientific pursuits, such as are now common among us, were in his day, beyond the reach, and beyond the knowledge of all then living; and how could he reason then in reference to what these pursuits now are?” (Stuart, Com. on Ecclesiastes, p. 141). Now Koheleth admits that knowledge, whatever its extent, even mere human knowledge, is better than folly; it is better than sensual Epicureanism; even the sorrows of the one are better than the joys of the other, more to be desired by a soul in a right state; and yet, not in view of any small amount, but of the widest possible extent, does he say that “he who increases knowledge” (knowledge of mere earthly things, knowledge of links instead of ends, knowledge of man’s doings, merely, instead of God’s ways) only “increases sorrow." The wonder is, that there is not more commonly felt, what is sometimes admitted by the most thoughtful men of science, that the more there is discovered in this field the more mystery there is seen to be, the more light the more darkness following immediately in its train and increasing in a still faster ratio,—in short, the more knowledge we get of nature, and of man as a purely physical being, the greater the doubt, perplexity, and despair, in respect to his destiny, unless a higher light than the natural and the historical is given for our relief. In this respect the modern physical knowledge, or claim to knowledge, has no advantage over the ancient, which it so much despises, hut which, in its day, and with its small stock of physical experience, was equally pretentious. Read how Lucretius exults in describing the atomic causality, and the wonderful discoveries that were to banish darkness from the earth, and put an end to that dreaded Religio— Quæl caput a cgi reoinibus obtendebat, Horribili super adspectu mortalibus instans. How greatly does it resemble some of the boasting of our 19th century, and yet how does our modern science, with its most splendid achievements (which there is no disposition to underrate) stand speechless and confounded in the presence of the real questions raised by the perplexed and wondering Koheleth! What single ray of light has it shed on any of those great problems of destiny which are ever present to the anxious, thoughtful soul! “Our science and our literature!” How is their babble hushed in the presence of the grave! How wretchedly do they stammer when asked to explain that which it concerns us most to know, and without which all other knowledge presents only “a lurid plain of desolation,” a “darkness visible,” or to use the language of one much older than Milton, “where the very light is as darkness!” How dumb are these boasting oracles, when, with a yearning anxiety that no knowledge of “the seen and temporal” can appease, we consult them in respect to “the unseen and eternal!” They claim to tell us, or boldly assert that the time is rapidly coming when they will be able to tell us, all that is needed for the perfectibility of human life. But ask them now, what is life, and why we live, and why we die ? No answer comes from these vaunting shrines. They have no reply to the most momentous questions: Whence came we? Whither go we? Who are we? What is our place in the scale of being ? What is our moral state, our spiritual character? Is there any such thing as an immutable morality? Is there a true ethical rising at all above the physical, or anything more than the knowledge and prudent avoidance of physical consequences? Is there any hope or meaning in prayer? Is there a holy law above us to which our highest ideas of righteousness and purity have never risen? Is there an awful judgment before us? Are we probationers of a moral state having its peril proportioned to an inconceivable height of blessedness only to be attained through such a risk? Is there, indeed, a great spiritual evil within us, and a mighty evil One without us against whom we have to contend? Is there a great perdition, a great Saviour, a great salvation? Is man truly an eternal and supernatural being, with eternal responsibilities, instead of a mere connecting link, a passing step, in a never completed cycle of random “natural selections,” or idealess developments, having in them nothing that can truly be called higher or lower, because there is no spiritual standard above the physical, by which their rank and value can be determined? Such questions are suggested by the reading of Koheleth, although not thus broadly and formally stated. In his oft-repeated cry that “all beneath the sun is vanity," there is, throughout, a pointing to something above the sun, above nature, above the flowing world of time, to that “work of God” which he says (3:14) is לעולם, “for the eternal‚” immovable, without flow, without progress, perfect, finished,—“to which nothing can be added, and from which nothing can be taken,”—that high “ideal world,” that unmoving Olam, where “all things stand,”—that spiritual supernatural paradigm for the manifestation of which in time, nature with all its flowing types and paradigms was originally made, and to which it is subservient during every moment, as well as every age, of its long continuance. All here, when viewed in itself, was vanity, but מַעַל הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ supra solem, above the sun, there stood the real. He was sure of the fact, though he felt himself utterly unable to solve the questions connected with it. This makes the impressiveness of his close, when, after all his “turnings to see,” and his “thinkings to himself,” or “talkings to his heart,” he concludes, as Job and the Psalmist had done, that the “fear of God is the beginning of wisdom,” and the keeping of His commandments “the whole of man” (כל האדם), his great “end,” his constant duty, his only hope of obtaining that higher spiritual knowledge which alone can satisfy the soul (John 7:17). This he fortifies by the assurance that all shall at last be clear: “For God will bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.” It is this continual pointing to the “unseen and eternal” [לעולם] that constitutes the peculiar poetical character of the book, so far as the thought is concerned. And then there is the subjective style: “I thought to myself”—“I said to my heart”—“I turned again to see”—“I went about, I and my heart;” this, together with the measured diction into which it naturally flows, forms the more outward poetical dress. There are in Koheleth the germs of ideas that extend beyond the utmost range of any outward science, or even of any merely dogmatic ethical teaching. It was the inner spirit of the reader, through his own inner spirit, that he sought to touch. These “thinkings to himself” filled his soul with an emotion demanding a peculiar style of utterance, having some kind of rhythmical flow as its easiest and most fitting vehicle. Why it is, that when the soul muses, or when, under the influence of devout feeling, or inspiring wonder, it is thus moved to talk to itself, it should immediately seek some kind of measured language, is a question not easily answered. It presents a deep problem in psychology which cannot here be considered. The fact is undoubted. The rhythmical want is felt in ethical and philosophical musing, as well as in that which comes from the contemplation of the grand and beautiful in nature, or the heroic and pathetic in human deeds. Some have denied that what is called gnomic, or philosophical poetry is strictly such, being, as they say, essentially prose, artificially arranged for certain purposes of memory and impression. We may test the difference, however, by carefully considering what is peculiar, outwardly and inwardly, to some of the most striking examples of this kind of writing, and noting how the power, character, and association of the thoughts are affected by the rhythmical dress, even when of the simplest kind. Pope’s Essay on Man, for example, has been called simply measured prose; but it is in fact, the highest style of poetry, better entitled to be so characterized than the greater part of his other rhythmical compositions. Certain great ideas belonging to the philosophy of the world and man, are there contemplated in their emotional aspect. Wonder, which enters into the very essence of this highest species of poetry, is called by Plato “the parent of philosophy,” and this is the reason why the dry and logical Aristotle, who could intellectually analyze what he could not emotionally create, gives us that remarkable declaration (De Poetica, chap. 9.) διὸ καὶ φιλοσοφώτερον καὶ σπουδαιότερον ΠΟΙ΄ΗΣΙΣ ἱστοριας ἐστίν—“Wherefore it is that poetry is a more philosophical and a more serious thing than history itself.” In perusing the composition of Pope referred to, we are immediately, and without formal notice, made to feel this contemplative, wondering, emotive power, through the sympathetic influence of the outward dress. The measured style thus disposes us as soon as we begin to read. We are thereby put in harmony with the subjective state of the writer. We begin to muse as he muses, whilst the rhythmical flow causes our emotions, and associations of thought, to move easily, and without surprise, in the same smooth channel, however irregular it might seem if viewed under another aspect. We are not reading for knowledge, or ethical instruction even, but for the reception of that same emotion which prompted the seemingly irregular utterance. Under the binding influence of the melody, we no longer expect logical or scientific connections. There is felt to be a uniting under-current of thought and feeling, so carrying us along as to supply the want of these by the merest suggestions, some of them, at times, very far off, seemingly, whilst others come like inspirations to the meditative spirit, or seem to rise up spontaneously from the bubbling fountain of emotional ideas. Taking away the rhythm from such a work immediately does it great injustice, by destroying this sympathy. Put it in a prose dress, and we, at once, expect closer connections, more logical, more scientific, more formal, more directly addressed to an outward mind. The one soul of the writer and the reader is severed, the inspiration is lost, the dogmatic becomes predominant, whilst the intellect itself is offended for the want of those stricter formulas of speech and argument which its systematic instruction demands. Not finding these, we call it strange, rhapsodical, or unmeaning. What before impressed us now appears as trite truisms, and the fastidious intellect, or fastidious taste, contemns what a deeper department of the soul had before received and valued without questioning. The cause of this is in the fact that there are some thoughts, called common (and it may be that they are indeed very common), yet so truly great, that to a mind in a right state for their contemplation, no commonness can destroy the sense of their deep intrinsic worth. Truisms may be among the most important of all truths, and, therefore, all the more needing some impressive style of utterance, some startling form of diction, to arouse the soul to a right contemplation of their buried excellence. Undeterred by their commonness, the musing mind sees this higher aspect; it recognizes them in their connections with the most universal of human relations, and even with eternal destinies. The emotion with which this is contemplated calls out a peculiar phraseology, placing the thought in the foreground of the mind’s attention, and divesting it of its ordinary homely look. This startling diction appears especially in the original language, if understood. We turn such meditations into prose; first in our words, as happens necessarily in a process of rigid, verbal translation,—then in our thoughts—and having thus stripped them of that rhythmical charm which called attention to their hidden worth, their real uncommonness, we pronounce them trite and unmeaning.[1] Koheleth in his homely prose version—especially our English Version—suffers more, in this way, than the Psalms or Proverbs, where the Hebrew parallelism is so clear in its general structure, and the antithesis of emphatic words demanded for each particular arrangement is so striking, that the poetical character appears in almost any version; the poorest translation, that has any claim to be faithful, not being able wholly to disguise it. The object, therefore, is to give to a translation of Koheleth such a rhythmical dress, be it ever so slight and plain, that the reader may thereby make some approach to the mental position of the original utterer, or assume, instinctively, as it were, something of his subjective state. It is to lead him, by something in the outward style, to feel, however slightly, the meditative, emotional, yet sobered spirit of the writer—to give the mind that turn—(and a mere starting impulse may do it) which shall make it muse as he muses, and soliloquize as he soliloquizes, without being surprised at those sudden transitions, or those remote suggestions, which seem natural to such a state of mind when once assumed. They are natural, because the writer, understanding his own thoughts, and even feeling them, we may say, needs, for himself, no such logical formulas, and the reader equally dispenses with them as he approaches the same position. They are like modulations that are not only admissible but pleasing in a musical flow, whilst they would appear as flattened chords, or harsh dissonances, if set loose from their rhythmical band. Such is very much the appearance which the thoughts of this book often present when read merely as didactic prose, and this is doing them great injustice. For one example out of many, of these seemingly abrupt transitions in Koheleth, take chap. 6:6: “unto one place go not all men alike?” There seems, at first view, little or no connection here. It is, however, the meeting of an objection that silently starts up, making itself felt rather than perceived as something formally stated: “Length of life is no advantage, rather the contrary, if one has lived in vain: Do not they both, the man of extreme longevity, and the still-born, or the born in vain, go at last to the same mother earth whence they came?” What avails, then, “his thousand years twice told?” If the reader’s mind is in harmony with the writer’s, and with his style, he sees the association, and is more affected by such apparent abruptness than he would have been by the most formal logical statement. He gets into the current of feeling, and this carries him over the apparent logical break. It may be said, too, that such a rhythmical Version may be all the more faithful to the thought on this very account of its rhythmical form. It may be more literal, too, if by literal we mean that which most truly puts us in the mental position of the old writer, giving not only the thought, as a bare intellectual form, but, along with it, the emotion which is so important a part of the total effect, and even of the thought itself regarded as an integral state of soul. To accomplish this, Hebrew intensives must be represented, in some way, by English intensives, of like strength, though often of widely different expression. There is often, too, an emotional power in a Hebrew particle which may be all lost if we aim to give only its illative force. This is especially the case with a גַּם or a כּי. The former always expresses more or less of surprise or wonder, along with its additive force of too, or moreover. The translation is to be helped, in such cases, by our expressive particle yea, or some interjectional form such as, ah! this too I yea, verily, this too! Again, the illative power in the Hebrew particle may be much wider, and more varied, than that of any single one which we may select as corresponding to it in any single case. Thus כִּי connects by denoting a cause, reason, or motive; but it may be a reason against, a reason notwithstanding, as well as a reason for; just as the Greek ἔνεκα may mean for the sake of, or in spite of—for all that—as ἕνεκα ἐμοῦ, “on my account,” or for all that lean do. In the latter case כִּי should be rendered although, a meaning rare in other parts of the Bible, but quite common, we think, in Ecclesiastes, and furnishing the right key to some otherwise obscure passages. Thus in chap. 6:4, כִּי־בַהֶבֶל בָּא is rendered, “for he cometh in with vanity,” which simply inverts the illative aim of the particle as determined by the context. It reads as though the ’f coming in with vanity and departing in darkness," were assigned as the cause, or reason why, the abortion, or the “vainly born,” is better than he who “vainly lived,”—thus making it the reason why instead of the reason notwithstanding, as it truly is. When we render it although, and supply the same particle in all the connected clauses, the meaning, which is so confused in our common English Version, becomes not only clear but most impressive. Again, this very frequent little word may be a transition, or starting particle, denoting a reason, and an emotion connected with it, but this emotion arising from an under-current of thought, or from something that starts up to the mind during a pause in the soliloquizing discourse. The speaker sets off again with a כִּי, yet, surely, yea verily so is it; as though what he had been thinking must have been thought by others near him. There are quite numerous examples of this kind in Koheleth, but the best illustration may be taken from a passage in Job where the ultimate thought is very similar to the one which pervades this book. To explain it there is required the very admissible supposition of a brief pause, or silence, holding still the flow of the discourse after some impassioned utterance. This is in accordance with the nature of grave oriental speaking, whether dialectical or continuous. It may be said, too, that such pauses of emotional silence, though occupying much shorter intervals in the middle of the dialogue, are of the same kind, and of the same spirit, with the silence described Job 2:13 : “And they sat with him on the earth seven days, and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him, for they saw that his grief was very great.” Some such rest of silence may be supposed to have occurred after the impassioned close of the 27. chapter. We are almost driven to this view from the fact, that the 28 seems to have so little of direct, or, in fact, of any discoverable connection with it. When Job begins again “to take up his parable,” his thoughts seem to have drifted to a great distance; and yet, during the silence, the thread has been preserved. It has been carried away by a devious current, but we recover it again before the new strain closes. So great has seemed the difficulty of connecting these two chapters, that Pareau (De Jobi Notitiis, etc., p. 247) reasons plausibly to show that there has been a misplacement, and that chap. 28. should come immediately after chap. 26. But there is a better explanation, and more in harmony with the spirit of this wonderful book. After the strong appeal of the 27., and the vivid picture, there presented, of the bad man’s ruin, we find Job, instead of applying it directly to his own defence, or his defence of the ways of God, starting off in a strange manner, and with this particle כִּי, presenting no reason for what was said, seemingly, just before, but forming, as it were, the transition chord to a new modulation: “For there is a vein for the silver” (כִּי יֵשׁ) or, “surely there is an outlet for the silver, and a place for the gold,” etc. What is the illative force of כִּי in this place, or what connective office does it perform at all? Far off, as it would seem, from the former train of thought, the speaker goes on to describe the human zeal and energy in its search for the treasures and secrets of nature. And most graphically is this done. The references in the beginning are to mining operations, in which men had made what might seem a wonderful progress in the earliest times: “He (man) puts a limit to the darkness” [he pushes farther and farther back the horizon of the unknown]; “he searches out to the very end (as Conant well translates it) the stone (the ore) of darkness, and of the shadow of death.” Away from the ordinary human haunts “he hangs suspended” (over the shaft of the mine). In wilds which even “the vulture’s eye had not seen, nor the fierce lion ventured to tread, he sendeth forth his hand, and turneth up the mountain from its roots.” “He cutteth out channels in the rocks,—he bindeth the fountains from overflowing, and that which is most hidden bringeth he forth to light.” Now what is the association of thought that led to this? We soon see it. It reappears in that yearning interrogatory: “But where shall wisdom be found? O where is the place of understanding ?” All these discoveries, however great they may be conceived to be (and the searching appeal is as much to our own as to the earliest times) are not wisdom—הַחָכְמָה—“the wisdom.” They give us not the great idea or reason of God in the creation of man and the world: “The deep” (the great Tehom) still “saith, it is not in me; the sea saith, it is not with me.” “It is not found in the land of the living,” in the world of active life; and yet, strange as it may seem,” a rumor thereof “has reached the dark, silent unboasting under-world”. “Death and Abaddon (the state in which man seems to be lost, or to disappear) say, we have just heard the fame thereof with our ears.” It is the wisdom which is known only to God, or to those to whom He reveals it,—His moral purpose in the origination and continuance of nature, and in the dark dispensations of human life. It is the spiritual idea of the supernatural world, to which the natural is wholly subservient, but to which neither its ascending or descending links do ever reach. To this, all unknown as it is, though firmly believed, does Job appeal in repelling the shallow condemnation of his friends, and the shallow grounds on which they place it. This is God’s wisdom, which was with Him when He made nature and the worlds. Man’s wisdom is to believe in it, to submit himself to it, to stand in awe of it, and to depart from evil, as the beginning of that course through which alone there can come any clearing of the mystery to the human soul. This connects the speaker with the former train of thought, or the vindication of God’s ways as righteous, however dark they may seem in the human history, whether of the race or of the individual. The pause, the apparent break, is that which leads to the higher strain. So it is in the musings of Koheleth, less sublime, perhaps, less impassioned, but with no less of grave impressiveness. It is only when we thus read it as meditating, soul-interrogating, poetry, that we get in the right vein for understanding its subtle associations of thought. In Koheleth, too, as in Job, there are certain underlying ideas, firmly held, and that never change. Though “clouds and darkness are round about” them, they form the מְכוֹן כִּסֵּא “the foundation of the throne,”—the settled basis of his belief in the eternal Righteousness. These no scepticism ever invades. They have not the appearance of inductions from experience, or from any kind of logical argumentation; neither are they so put forth. They are rather holy intuitions, inspirations we might style them, which admit of no uncertainty: “I know that whatsoever God doeth is for the olam,” the eternity, the world idea; “nothing can be put to it nor any thing taken from it” (3:14). Earth may be full of wrong, but “there is One Most High above all height, that keepeth watch” over the injustice and oppression of men (5:7): Though a sinner do evil a hundred times, and his days be prolonged, yet surely I know that it shall be well with them that fear God, but it shall not be well with the wicked” (8:12). He knew it; his faith not only went beyond sight, but stood strong even in opposition to sense and earthly experience: “I said in my heart, the righteous and the wicked God shall judge;” for “there, too” (שָׁם, even there, in the great Olam, or world plan, mentioned just above), “is there an appointment for every purpose, and for every work” (3:17). This judgment will not be merely through blind “physical consequences,” as though it were man’s highest duty to obey nature [according to a favorite modern system of naturalizing ethics], instead of ofttimes having to fight against it,—but hy a glorious and unmistakable manifestation of God Himself, somewhere in the malkuth kol olamim, or cycle of the Olams. It shall be “when God demands again the ages fled” [3:15], יְבַקֵשׁ אֶת נִדְדָּף, literally, “makes inquisition,” or “seeks that which is pursued.” As the solemn proclamation is sent after the fleeing homicide, so shall He demand again the ages of wrong that have chased away each other in the revolutions of time. They shall be summoned to stand before His bar. The past is not gone; it is to appear again in the judgment, as real as in the events for which it is to be judged. Yea, more real will be that reappearing than any thing in the unheeded movements of the present. Neither will it be the exhibition of a general or abstract justice: “For God will bring every work into judgment with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil” [12:14]. It is this strong Hebrew faith in the Holy Justice which the Rationalist commentators overlook in their absurd comparing of some things in this book with the dogmas of the later[2] Grecian schools. It wholly severs the reverent, God-fearing Koheleth from the sensual Epicurean, on the one hand, and the fatalizing, naturalizing Stoic, on the other. His darkness is better than their light, his very doubts are more suggestive than their most “positive philosophy.” It is this God-fearing, yet man-loving, spirit, that makes his calm utterances so much more impressive than all their babbling disputations about pleasure and pain, the summum bonum, and the reality of evil. All good, he teaches, is from God, even the power to find any satisfaction in eating and drinking (2:24, when rightly interpreted, 5:18, 19), and yet again,“sorrow is better than mirth” (8:3), not on account of any ascetic merit in the endurance of pain and grief, but because a saddened state of soul is more in sympathy with a sad and fallen world, such as the writer evidently conceives it to be [see 7:29; 9:3; 3:18]. “Sorrow is better than mirth,” because it has more heart, more thought; it is more becoming, more humane, and, therefore, more rational in view of the vanity of life, and its abounding woes. It is better, as purifying and beautifying the soul, and thus producing, in the end, a serener happiness (7:3). “For in the sadness of the face the heart becometh fair;” as יִיטַב לֵב should be rendered, giving a clear and impressive antithesis, and being in accordance with the more common usage of the phrase, as denoting comeliness, or even cheerfulness of spirit, rather than moral improvement merely, as our common version gives it: As the face is outwardly marred by such grief for the woes of human life, the heart grows inwardly in serene spiritual beauty. Never was this more impressively illustrated than in the life of the “Man of sorrows,” whose “visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men” (Isaiah 52:14; Isaiah 53:3). These great underlying ideas of Koheleth, and the manner in which they appear, form its most peculiar characteristic. It is its recognition that distinguishes the thoughtful reader from the one who would flippantly characterize the style of the book as homely, and its thoughts as confused and common-place. These immutable truths may be compared to a strong and clear under current of most serious thinking, rising, at times, above the fluctuating experiences that appear upon the surface, and as constantly losing themselves in the deeper flow. It is the feeling of this under current that may be said to form the subjective band of thought. It furnishes the true ground of that rich suggestiveness which pervades the whole composition, and thus constitutes an important element of its poetical character. In giving a rhythmical version, however plain, to such a book as Koheleth, it should be borne in mind that some degree of inversion as well as measured or parallelistic movement, is among the demands of the poetical style in all languages. Such inversion, however, exists to a much less degree in the Hebrew, than in the Latin and Greek, and may, therefore, be more easily represented in English. In truth, a version may he made more clear, and more literal, as well as more musical, in this very way. It may sometimes be accomplished by a faithful following of the original in its scantiness as well as in its fulness. Our English version of the Bible inserts in italics the substantive verb where it is not in the Hebrew. It does this, often, to the marring of the thought, and the enfeebling of the emotion: “From everlasting unto everlasting thou art;” how much more forcible, and, at the same time, more rhythmical, the literal following of the Hebrew: from everlasting thou. This may seem a very slight difference, but the effect on a wide seale, had such literal following been constantly practised, would have been very strongly felt. “Vanity of vanities,” says our English version, “all is vanity.” Leave out the useless substantive verb: “Vanity of vanities, all—vanity.” A very slight change again, but it has more effect for the ear, as well aa for the feeling. It is no longer an abstract, dogmatic affirmation, but an exclamation of wonder. Intensive phrases, however, generally refuse a strict verbal rendering, unless they have become naturalized, as it were, in our language, through a long used literal translation of the Scriptures, or in any other way. Thus that oft-repeated “vanity of vanities” (the Hebrew use of the construct, state with the plural for something superlative) may stand as it does, instead of being rendered “most vain,” or “utterly vain.” So again for the Hebrew סוֹבֵב סבֵֹב (1:6), the most literal is the best sounding, as well as the most forcible translation: “Whirling, whirling,” or “round, round,”—“round about, round about”—instead of our tame and prosaic rendering: “it whirleth about continually,” or the still poorer Vulgate: Lustrans universa in circuitu. In other cases, a verbal rendering will not do at all; and yet in some way, must their intensiveness be given, or it is no true translation,—that is, no translation, or setting over, of what is most essential, which, in such a book as Koheleth, is the emotion, the state of soul, rather than the bare description orethical thought. Thus, for example, in the Hebrew, the plural is sometimes used to express what is superlative or very great; as in chap. 2:8, the expression שִׁדָּה וְשִׁדּוֹת which, in our English version is most strangely rendered, “musical instruments and that of all sorts.” The best Jewish authority regarded שִׁדָּה as the feminine of שַׁד, the common word for the breast, used here (the only case of its occurrence) as more feminine and voluptuous, and representative of Solomon’s numerouswives and concubines. See Kimchi, and Aben Ezra who cites as a parallel phrase, רַחַם רַחֲמָתָים (“a damsel or two,” expressed euphemistically) Judges 5:30. Now render this literally, “a breast and breasts,” and how tame it sounds; how bare is it of all emotion ! We want something to express this intensive sense, be it an intensive particle, or any other intensive word—“the breast, yea, many breasts,”—the seven hundred fair female bosoms on which Solomon, in “the days of his vanity,” had the choice of reposing. The manner of saying it, and the feeling with which it is said, would furnish no slight argument that it is a real, and not merely a representative Solomon, who is speaking here. Sometimes this emotion, this intensity, is expressed, or rather suggested, simply by the rhythmical form of the translation, even though it be of the slightest kind;—the inverted or measured style immediately indicating such an emotional state of soul, as other language, in another order, would not have done. For all these reasons, it is no paradox to assert, that a rhythmical version of the book, such as is here attempted, may be the most true and literal, placing the reader’s soul in some degree of harmony with that of the writer, not only as regards the general subject, but also in respect to the true thought and feeling of particular passages. To answer this purpose, there is need only of such a degree of inversion as our language most easily admits, and which might have been much more freely used than it has been in our common version. Such a style, freely employed in rendering all the poetical books, would have become naturalized in English through this very means. It might have been called prose, but would have had much more of the power of the poetical, and would have enabled us, whilst rendering most literally, to have entered more deeply into the thought of the sacred books through the emotion which is such an essential accompaniment of the thought, and of which a poor prose translation almost wholly divests it. In addition to this more inverted style, there is required only the simplest iambic movement, made as smooth as possible, but without much regard to the equality of the lines. The Version accompanying may be open to criticism in these respects, but the effect would, in fact, be weakened by having it too labored, even if that could be consistent with literalness. In short, there is wanted, for such a purpose, just enough of rhythm to arrest the attention, and set the mind in the direction of the inward harmony, without occupying it with an excessive artificialness. On these accounts it is hoped that the attempted rhythmical version will give the reader a better view, by giving him a better feeling of Koheleth (both as a whole, and in its parts) than can come from the very homely and defective prose translation of our English Bible, or even from the Germanof Zöckler, which is rhythmical only in appearance; since it simply follows the Hebrew accents in the divisions of the parallelisms, which are less evident in this book than in other parts of the Bible styled poetical. In the version offered, there is very little of what can be called addition or paraphrase. Some few places there are, in which brief explanatory words have been placed in parenthetical brackets, but they are not used to any greater extent than the explanations and connections that are found in the marginal readings of our English Version. These additions, though marked by enclosing lines, are included in the measured movement, and may, therefore, be read without interrupting it. They show the connections of thought, which are virtually in the Hebrew, in cases, often, where a verbal translation would fail to exhibit the full power of its conciseness. In such instances they are not additions, nor explanatory paraphrases, but genuine parts of a true translation. In other cases, the mere inversion discloses the association of thought, which we fail to see in the common rendering, because its unhebraical order divests certain words of that emphasis through which the connection is plainly marked in the original—more plainly, sometimes, than by any logical terms of assertion. The measure employed is the Iambic, with occasional use of the Choriambus. The most usual lines are the pentameter, or the common English blank verse line, the Iambic of seven feet, the most musical of our English measures, with, occasionally, the less musical, because less used, Senarius. The shorter lines, of three or four feet, are used for the transitions and cadences which mark the flow of thought. One who carefully compares it with the original will see that the translation here attempted keeps to the Hebrew accentual divisions, with very rare exceptions, and, in most cases, (although a somewhat difficult task) to the measure of their verbal conciseness. Some few parts are regarded as bare prose, and are given accordingly, such as the first verse of the book, the passages from ver. 12 to ver. 14, and verses 16 and 17, of the first chapter, as also verses 9 and 10 of the twelfth chapter. These are viewed as simply introductory to what follows. Without at all affecting our view of the authenticity and inspiration of the book, they may be regarded as scholiastic prologues, or epilogues, made by some other hand, as explanatory of the whole poem, or of some particular things in it; as, for example, verses 9 and 10 of chap. 12 seem to be an added note (by some enthusiastic admirer, himself divinely guided) to show that Solomon’s own language answers the description given in verse 11 that follows, beginning: “words of the wise, etc.” The reader will find remarks on these, both by Zöckler and the editor, in their respective places.—T. L.] METRICAL VERSION ____________ SAYINGS OF KOHELETH SON OF DAVID, KING IN JERUSALEM ____________ N. B.—The marginal numbers denote the chapters and verses of the common English Version. The smaller figures in the text refer to the brief notes in the margin, explanatory of differences between this and the common Version, or referring to pages where such explanations may be found. I The introductory Thought and constant Refrain. Continual cyclical changes in Nature and in Human Life. Nothing new beneath the sun Chapter I 2O vanity of vanities! Koheleth saith; O vanity of vanities! all—vanity. 3 at gain to man in all his toil, he toils beneath the sun? 4One generation goes, another comes; But the earth for the world[3] abides. 5 Outbeams[4] the sun, and goes beneath, the sun; Then to his place, all panting,[5] glowing,—there again is he. 6 Goes to the South, the wind, then round to North again; Still round and round it goes; And in its circuits evermore returns the wind. 7The rivers all are going to the sea; And yet the sea is never full; Whence came the rivers, thither they return to go. 8All words6 but labor; man can never utter it. With seeing, eye is never satisfied; With hearing, ear is never filled. 9 What was is what again shall be; What has been made, is that which shall be made; There’s nothing new beneath the sun. 10 Is there a thing of which, its said, Lo this is new? It hath already been in worlds that were before. 11Of former things the memory is gone; Of things to come shall no remembrance be With those that shall come after. II Koheleth gives an account of himself, his kingly estate, his pre-eminence in Wisdom and experience, with meditations on the fruitlessness of human efforts, and the sorrows of knowledge. Prose mingled with verse. Chapter I 12, 13I Koheleth was king over Israel in Jerusalem, and I set my heart to seek and to explore by wisdom all that is done beneath the sun,—That painful study which God has given to weary with. 14I looked on all the works performed beneath the sun; And Lo! all vanity, a chasing7 of the wind. 15That which is crooked cannot be made straight; The lacking can’t be numbered. 16 Then said I in my heart, Lo ! I have become great; I have increased in wisdom beyond 17all before me in Jerusalem; my heart hath seen much wisdom, and knowledge. Yea, I set my heart to know wisdom,—to know vain glory, too, and folly. This also did I see to be a caring for the wind. 18For in much of wisdom there is much of grief; And who increaseth knowledge, still increaseth sorrow. III The Attempt to unite Pleasure and Wisdom—Figure of the Unruly Horse—The reining of the Flesh—The Heart guiding as Charioteer—Koheleth’s ample means for tho Experiment—Its wretched Failure—All Vanity. Chapter II 1Then said I in my heart again— Go to—I’ll try thee now with pleasure. Behold the Good. This, too, was vanity. 2Of laughter, said I, it is mad; Of mirth—O what availeth it? 3Then in my heart I made deep search,— To rein8 my flesh in wine; My heart in wisdom guiding; To take near hold of folly, till I saw What kind of good is that for Adam’s sons “Which they would get, the numbered days they live, Beneath the heavens. 4 Great works I did. Houses I builded, vineyards did I plant, 5Gardens and parks; fruit trees of every kind 6I planted there. I made me water pools, To water thence the wood luxuriant9 of trees. 7 I gat me serving men, and serving women; Thralls of my house were born to my estate; Whilst store of cattle, yea of flocks were mine, Surpassing all before me in Jerusalem. 8 I gathered to me also silver—gold,— Treasures of kings, the wealth of provinces. I gat me singing men, and singing women. That choice delight of Adam’s sons was mine,— The breast10—yea many breasts. 9So I was great, and grew in greatness more than all Who were before me in Jerusalem. My wisdom also still stood firm to me. 10Of all mine eyes did ask I nought refused. My heart I held not back from any joy. For joyful was my heart in all my toil. And this my portion was from all my toil 11Then looked I to the work my hands had wrought The labor I had labored in the doing; And Lo! all vanity—a chasing of the wind; No gain beneath the sun. IV Contemplation of Wisdom and Folly—Koheleth is sure that Wisdom far excels Folly—But he Is puzzled to see how slight the practical Difference in Life—One seeming Chance to all—All alike forgotten—Koheleth’s Grief—His Hatred of Life and Discontent. Chapter II 12Again I turned to think of wisdom, madness, folly; For what shall he do who succeeds the king? [What else than] that which they have done already. 13As light excels the darkness, so I thought[11] There surely must be gain to wisdom over folly. 14The wise man’s eyes are in his head [they say[12]], The fool in darkness walketh. And yet I know that one event awaits them all. 15Then said I in my heart Like the fool’s chance so hath it chanced to me; And wherefore, then, am I the wiser? I told my heart, this, too, was vanity. 16 As of the fool, so also of the wise; There’s no remembrance that abides forever;13 In that the days are coming—have already come— When all is clean forgotten. Alas!14 how is it that the wise should die as dies the fool! 17And then I hated life. For grievous seemed the work performed beneath the sun, Since all is vanity—a chasing of the wind. 18I hated also all the labor I had wrought. For I must leave it to a man who shall come after me. 19 Will he be wise or foolish? who can know? Yet he will rule in all for which I’ve toiled, In all I’ve wisely planned beneath the sun. This, too, was vanity. V Koheleth’s Desperation—All vanity again. Chapter II 20Thus I revolved15 until it made my heart despair, Of all the labor I had wrought beneath the sun. 21For so it is; there’s one whose toil is evermore In wisdom, knowledge, rectitude; And then to one who never toiled he yields it as his prize. O this is vanity—an evil very sore. 22For what remains to man in all his labor? In all his heart’s sore travail, as he toil beneath the sun? 23 Since all his days are pain, his occupation grief. This, too, is vanity. VI The true Good not in the power of man—Who could more to find it than Koheleth! All the gift of God. Chapter II 24The good is not in16 man that he should eat and drink, And find his soul’s enjoyment in his toil. This, too, I saw, is only from the hands of God. 25For who could more indulge? Who faster, farther, run17 (in such a race) than I? 26To him who "hath found favor in His sight Doth God give wisdom, knowledge, joyfulness; But to the sinner gives He travail sore, To hoard and gather for the man whom he approves. This, too, was vanity—a caring for the wind. VII A time for every thing. The great world time, or world problem, which men can never find out. Chapter III 1To every thing there is a time, A season fit, to every purpose under heaven; 2A time to be born—a time to die, A time to plant—a time to dig up what is planted, 3A time to kill—a time to heal, A time to break—a time to build again, 4A time to weep—a time to laugh, A time to mourn—a time to dance, 5A time to scatter stones—a time to gather them again, A time to embrace—a time to refuse embracing, 6A time to seek—a time to lose, A time to keep—a time to cast away, 7A time to rend—a time to sew, A time to hold one’s peace—a time to speak, 8A time to love—a time to hate, A time of war—a time of peace. 9 What gain to him who works, in that for which he labors? 10I saw the travail God hath given the sons of men, That they should toil therein. 11Each in its several time, hath He made all things fair; The world-time18 also hath He given to human thought; Yet so, that man, of God’s great work, can never find, The end from the beginning. VIII In worldly things, enjoyment mi success the only good proposed. This God’s gift. The Inquisition of the Past. Chapter III 12There is no other good in them, I know, But to enjoy, and to do well in life; 13Yea, more,—to every man, That he should eat and drink, and find enjoyment in his toil— Even this is God’s own gift. 14For all God’s work, I know, is for eternity.[19] No adding to it—from it no diminishing. And this He does that men may fear before Him. 15What was is present now; The future has already been; And God demands again the ages fled.20 IX The Injustice in the world God’s sure Judgement—God’s trial at men to prove them—Human Life and its Destiny at judged by human conduct—“Man who in honor and abideth not is like the beasts that parish”—One chance, seemingly, to all. Chapter III 16Again I looked beneath the sun— The place of judgment—wickedness was there. The place of righteousness—I saw injustice there. 17Then said I in my heart: The righteous and the wicked God will judge. For there‚21 too, unto every purpose, and for every work, 18There is a time appointed. This said I in my heart—because of Adam’s sons— When God shall try them—for themselves to see That they—in their own estimation22—are as beasts. 19(So seems it)—one event for man, for beast,—one doom for all. As dieth this, so dieth that—one breath is for them all. There is no pre-eminence to man above the beast. Since all is vanity. 20 Unto one place (the earth) go all alike. All come from earth, and all to earth return. 21For who (among them) is it that discerns,[23] The spirit of the man that goeth up on high, The Spirit of the beast that downward goes to earth? 22And so I saw there was (for them)[24] no higher good Than that a man should joy in his own work, Since this his portion is. For who shall take him there to see What shall be after him? X Koheleth turns again—The sight of oppression changes the view—The Dead seem better off than the Living—Labor, when it prospers, only a source of envy—The envious fool’s content in his idleness. Chapter IV 1And then I turned again— I looked on all the oppressions done beneath the sun. For Lo! the tears of the oppressed, who had no comforter; Whilst on the oppressors’ side was power, to them no comforter. 2O then I praised the dead who died long since, More than the living men who now survive. 3Ah! better than them both is that which hath not been, Nor ever seen the evil work performed beneath the sun. 4Again I thought of toil as prospering in its work, That this is cause of hate to one man from his neighbor. Yea, this is vanity, a caring for the wind. 5 The fool (in envy) folds his hands and his own flesh devours. 6For better (saith he)25 is the one hand full of quietness, Than both hands fall of toil and windy vain desire. XI Another vanity—The lone Miser—The good of Society. Chapter IV 7I turned to look again beneath the sun— And Lo! another vanity! 8There is one alone; he has no mate, no son or brother near, And yet there is no end to all his toil. With wealth his eyes are never satisfied. Ah me!26 for whose sake do I labor so? Or why do I keep back my soul from joy? O this is vanity and travail sore. 9Better are two than one, for then there is to them A good reward in all their toil. 10For if they fall, the one shall raise his friend. But woe to him who falls alone, with none to lift him up. 11If two together lie, they both have heat; But how shall one be warm alone? 12If one be stronger, two shall stand against him. Nor quickly can the triple cord be broken. XII Changes in the individual and political life—The lowly exalted, the high abased—Changes in the world-life—The passing generations. Chapter IV 13Better the child, though he be poor, if wise, Than an old and foolish king, who heeds no longer warning. 14For out of bondage comes the one to reign; The other, in a kingdom27 born, yet suffers poverty. 15 I saw the living all, that walked in pride[28] beneath the sun. I saw the second birth29 that in their place shall stand. 16No end to all the people that have gone before; And they who still succeed, in them30 shall find no joy. This, too, is vanity, a chasing of the wind. XIII Reverence in worship—In speaking—Observance of vows. Against superstition, dreams and fortune-telling—Fear God alone. Chapter V. N. B.—In the Hebrew this chapter begins with ver. 2. 1 O keep thy foot when to the house of God thou goest. Draw nigh to hear. ’Tis better than to give the sacrifice of fools; For they know not that they are doing evil.31 2O be not hasty with thy mouth, nor let thy heart be rash To utter words before the face of God. For God in heaven dwells, thou here on earth. Be, therefore, few thy words. 3As in the multitude of care there comes the dream, So, with its many words, the voice of fools. 4 When thou hast made a vow to God, defer not to fulfill. He has no delight in fools—pay, then, as thou hast vowed. 5 ’Tis better that thou shouldst not vow, than vow and not perform. 6Give not thy mouth to cause thy flesh to sin; Nor say before the angel:32 “ ’twas an error.” Wherefore should God be angry at thy voice? And why the labors of thy hands destroy ? 7Though dreams abound and vanities, presagings numberless, Yet fear thou God. XIV Be not stumbled at sight of oppression and oppressors—There are Higher Powers than they—And God is over all: Chapter V. 8 When, in a province, thou beholdest the oppression of the poor,— Bold robbery of judgment and of right; At such allowance marvel not. Since One most high, above all height, is keeping watch. Yes—there be higher33 far than they. 9For every (rank) has profit from the soil, The king himself owes34 homage to the field. XV Wealth never satisfies—The laborer’s contented sleep. Chapter V 10Who silver loves, with silver ne’ er is satisfied, Nor he who loves increase of wealth, with revenue. This is another vanity: 11When wealth increases, they increase who spend; And what the owner’s gain, except to see it with his eyes? 12 Sweet is the laborer’s slumber, be it less he eat or more; Whilst the abundance of the rich permits him not to sleep. XVI Another sore evil—The hoarding miser, who loses his wealth and dies poor—Darkness, Sickness, and Wrath. Chapter V. 13 There is another grievous woe I’ve seen beneath the sun,— Wealth hoarded to its owner’s hurt. 14With the sore travail (it had cost)35 that wealth departs; The son whom he begets is left with nothing in his hand. 14Then bare, as from his mother’s womb he issued forth, Doth he return (to earth) poor as he came, And nothing takes he of his toil to carry with him there. 16O a sore evil this! In all points as he came, so shall he go, And what his profit that he thus should labor for the wind? 17 Yea, all his days doth he in darkness eat. Abundant sorrow, sickness too is his,36 and chafing wrath. XVII The Summing up of Koheleth’s experience—The true Good, the Good that is fair—The ability to see good in anything is God’s own gift—“His favor is more than life”—Makes the mere enjoyment of life little remembered. Chapter V. 18 And now behold what I have seen! Good37 that is fair, to eat and drink, and see the good In all the toil that one may toil beneath the sun, The number of the days that God has given 19To be his portion here—yea, every man, As God has given him wealth and great estate, And power to eat thereof, To bear his portion, and be joyful in his toil— This good38 (I say) is God’s own gift. 20For little will he call to mind, the days that he has lived, When God doth thus respond to him in joyfulness of heart. XVIII Koheleth turns again to the dark side—The rich man to whom God has not given the true good—compared to the untimely birth—He who vainly lives, less blessed than the vainly born Chapter VI. 1Another evil have I seen beneath the sun, And great it is to man; 2There is one whom God endows with wealth, And store of goods, and glorious estate; Who nothing lacks of all his soul desireth, Yet God gives him no power to eat thereof; For one, an alien39 born, devoureth it; This, too, is vanity, a very sore disease. 3 Though one beget a hundred sons—though he live many years,— Yea, though to countless days his life extends— His soul unsatisfied with good, and he no burial have; The untimely born, I said, is better sure than he. 4For though40 in vanity it comes, and into darkness goes,— And darkness cover deep its name,— 5 Though8 it hath never seen the sun, nor aught hath ever known,— Yet better rests (the vainly born) than He [who vainly lived]; 6Yea, though he lived a thousand years twice told, Yet never saw the good. Unto one place, go not all men alike?8 XIX Unsatisfactoriness of human life and efforts—To the Wise, the Fool, the Poor—Content better than the Wandering of the soul—The frailty and earthliness of man as indicated by his name Adam—He cannot strive with his Maker—Multiplication of words—They only increase vanity. Chapter VI 7All toil of man is ever for his mouth; And yet the appetite is never filled. 8 What profit to the wise (’tis asked)41 beyond the fool? What to the poor, though knowing how to walk before the living? 9 Better the eyes beholding (say)10 than wandering of the soul. This, too, is vanity. 10 What each thing is, its name was named of old; Known thus for what he is,42 is Adam (named from earth); And that he cannot strive with One so far in might excelling. 11 Though many words there are, in vain they multiply; What profit then to man ? 12For who knows what is good for man in life, The number of the days of his vain life, He spendeth like a shadow gone ? For who can tell to man What shall be after him beneath the sun ? XX The sorrowful aspects of life bettor than the jovial—Better than the song of fools the chidings of the wise—Here, too, there is vanity—Since insolence of station and bribery may cause even the wise to err. Chapter VII 1Better the honored name than precious oil; Better the day of death than that of being born. 2 Better to visit sorrow’s house than seek the banquet hall; Since that (reveals) the end of every man, And he who lives should lay it well to heart, 3Better is grief than mirth; For in the sadness of the face the heart becometh43 fair. 4The wise man’s heart is in the house of mourning; The fool’s heart in the house of mirth. 5Better to heed the chiding of the wise Than hear the song of fools. 6For like the sound of thorns beneath the pot, So is the railing laughter of the fool. This, too, is vanity. 7For even the wise may arrogance44 inflate, A bribe his heart corrupt. XXI Sundry maxims—The end determines—Be patient—Fret not—No mark of Wisdom to praise the past—In Wealth there is defence of life, in knowledge life itself—In prosperity be joyful—In adversity be thoughtful—God hath set one over against the other. Chapter VII. 8 Better the issue of a thing than the beginning. Better the patient than the proud in soul. 9O be not hasty in thy spirit angrily to grieve; For in the bosom of the fool such anger ever dwells. 10 Say not, why is it, days of old were better days than these ? ’Tis not from wisdom comes such questioning. 11Wisdom is fair with fair inheritance;45 And gain excelling hath it then for men. 12In Wisdom’s shade, as in the shade of Wealth, [Defence of life]46; but knowledge hath pre-eminence (in this), That wisdom giveth life to its possessor. 13Survey the works of God; For who can make that straight which He hath left deformed? 14In days of good, be thou of joyful heart; In evil days, look forth (consider thoughtfully) How God hath set the one against the other, That aught of that which cometh after man may never find. XXII Koheleth’s sad experience—the wicked prospering—the good depressed. Over-righteousness—Be not too knowing—The fear of God the only safety—Wisdom stronger than strength—None righteous, no, not one—Heed not slanders. Chapter VII. 15Much have I seen, of all kinds,47 in my days of vanity. The righteous man who perished in his righteousness; The wicked man, with life prolonged in wickedness. 16 Nor over-righteous be, nor over-wise; For why thyself confound ? 17 Nor over-wicked be, nor play the fool; Why die before thy time ? 18Better hold fast the one, nor from the other draw thy hand; But he alone who feareth God comes out unscathed48 from all. 19One wise man there may be whom wisdom stronger makes, Than ten the mightiest captains in the city; 20But one,49 a righteous man, on earth is never found, Who doeth always good and sinneth not. 21 [Learn this] too, give not heed to every word that flies; Lest thine own servant thou shouldst hear reviling thee; 22For many the time, as thine own soul well knows, That thou thyself hast other men reviled. XXIII Koheleth’s desire to learn the great past. He then turns to seek wisdom in human life. The evil woman—A good one hard to find—One man in a thousand. Man made upright; now fallen. Chapter VII. 23 All this have I essayed for wisdom’s sake. O that I might be wise, I said, but it was far from me; 24 Far off—the past, what is it ?50 deep—that deep, O, who can sound ? 25Then turned I, and my heart, to learn, explore, To seek out wisdom, reason—sin to know,— Presumption,—folly,—vain impiety. 26Than death more bitter did I find the wife Whose heart is nets and snares, whose hands are chains. The blest of God from her shall be delivered; The sinner shall be taken. 27 Behold, this have I found, Koheleth saith; [As reckoning] one by one, to sum the account; 28 That which my heart was ever seeking though I found it not: Out of a thousand, one man have I found; Amidst all these, one woman seek I still. 29This only have I found—behold it,—God made man upright; But they have sought devices numberless. XXIV Wisdom lighteth up the face. Koheleth’s kingly admonition—Submission to right authority. The rebellious spirit—Safety of obedience. Chapter VIII. 1 Who like the wise, or him who knows the reason of a thing ? Man’s wisdom lighteth up his face,—its aspect stern is changed. 2I, a king’s mouth (do speak it),51 heed it well; By reason, also, of the oath of God; 3In anger, from the [ruler’s] presence hasten not; Nor boldly stand in any evil thing; For that which he hath purposed will he do. 4Where’er the mandate of a king, there, too, is power; And who shall say to him, what doest thou ? 5 Who simply keeps the statute knows52 no harm; Yet still, the wise in heart doth time and judgment heed. XXV Man’s evil great, yet reason and justice in it all—No resistance in the warfare with death. Impotency of wickedness. Chapter VIII. 6For surely unto every purpose is there time and judgment fixed, Although53 man’s evil be so great upon him, 7Unknowing, as he is, of all that is to come. For how it shall be, who is there to tell him ? 8Over the spirit, none has power to hold it back; No strength availeth in the day of death; For in that warfare there is no release; And wickedness is impotent to free the sinner there. XXVI A close survey—Power hurtful to its possessors—The wicked rulers dead—Buried in Pomp—Forgotten. Chapter VIII. 9This too I saw—’twas when I gave my heart To every work that’s, done beneath the sun— That there’s a time when man rules over man to his own hurt. 10’Twas when I saw the wicked dead interred; And to and from54 the holy place (men) came and went; Then straight were they forgotten in the city of their deeds. Ah! this was vanity. XXVII Human presumption arising from impunity—Judgment slow but sure—No good to the sinner notwithstanding appearances—“Woe to the wicked, it shall be ill with him—Joy to the righteous, it shall be well with him.” Chapter VIII. 11Since sentence on an evil work is not done speedily, Therefore the hearts of Adam’s sons are filled with thoughts of wrong. 12Yet though the sinner sin a hundred times, with life prolonged, Still know I this—it shall be well with those who worship God,— Who stand in awe before Him. 13But for the sinner there is nothing good; Nor shall he lengthen out his days that like a shadow (flee), This man who hath no fear (to sin) before the face of God. XXVIII Koheleth’s faith grows weak again—He stumbles at the sight of the same seeming chance to all—It is then that he extols pleasure—No good except to eat, etc. Chapter VIII. 14’Tis vanity, what’s done upon the earth, for so it is, That there are righteous unto whom it haps as to the vile, And sinners, too, whose lot is like the doings of the just. For surely this is vanity, I said. 15 ’Twas then55 that pleasure I extolled : How that there was no good to man beneath the sun; Except to eat, and drink, and here his joy to find; And this alone attends him in his toil, During all the days of life that God has given beneath the sun. XXIX The mystery deepens—No human philosophy can solve the problem of life—We can only say, “all things are in the hands of God:” Human Love and Hatred—The unknown All as it bears upon all—The seeming outward confusion in moral states—The still greater invisible evil in the hearts of men—Then to the unknown after state—Hope in the living—The highest form of death inferior to the lowest life. Chapter VIII. 16According as I gave my heart to know what wisdom was, And to explore the travail sore that’s done upon the earth, [So sore that day and night the eyes no slumber take] 17’Twas then I saw that man can never find the work of God; That work which now is going on beneath the sun. For though one labor in the search, his search is all in vain. Yea, though the sage56 may boast his knowledge, still he finds it not. Chapter IX. 1 For this before my heart I set—all this to understand— Even this (great mystery) how that the righteous and the wise, With all their works, are in the hands of God. Their love, their hatred too; man knows it not, the all57 that lies before him; 2The all according as it is to all—one fate to all— The just, the vile, the good, the pure, the one with sin defiled; To him who offers sacrifice—to him who gives it not; As to the good, so unto him that sins; As to the perjured, so to him who fears to break his oath. 3Yes, this the evil sore in all that’s done beneath the heavens: That thus one doom should come to all alike. And then, so full of evil are the hearts of Adam’s sons ! Yea, madness in their hearts, whilst they do live; Then to the dead they go. 4For there is hope in one whose life still joins58 the living throng. To a living dog there’s greater worth than to a lion dead. XXX Koheleth’s views of the stats of the dead—Not as a state of extinction, but as opposed to the present active, loving, hating, scheming life—The unknown state of being to which there is no participation in the works of this world “beneath the sun.” Chapter IX. 5The living know that they must die, the dead they nothing know. For them there is no more reward, forgotten is their name. 6 Their hate, their love, their zeal, all perished now; Whilst the world lasts, no portion more have they, In all the works performed beneath the sun. XXXI On this there follows a strain of sorrowing irony—[In language the opposite of 1 Cor. 7:29]—Alas O man!—If it be all of life to live—Then go thy way, eat, drink thy wine—There is no judgment—God accepts thy works—Get all the good thou canst out of “thy day of vanity”—There is no work or scheme in Sheol. Comp. Wisdom of Solomon, 2:6. Chapter IX. 7Go then, with gladness eat thy bread, and merrily drink thy wine, For God already hath accepted all thy works. 8In every season be thy garments white, And oil be never wanting to thy head. 9Live joyful with the wife whom thou hast loved, During all the days of thy vain life,—that life59 Which God hath given to thee beneath the sun— Yea, all thy days of vanity. For this thy only portion is in life, And in thy weary toil which thou hast toiled beneath the sun. 10Do then whate’er thy hand shall find in thine own might60 to do, For there’s no work, no plan, no knowledge, no philosophy61, In Sheol, where thou goest. XXXII Koheleth turns again—He revises and retracts what had been said—All such advice to live merrily is vain, because there is no certainty in human affairs, and human efforts-—All Wisdom, therefore, and all resolving to be happy may be in vain. Chapter IX 11I turned again to look beneath the sun. Not to the swift the race I saw, nor victory to the strong, Nor to the wise secure their bread, nor to the prudent wealth, Nor favor to the knowing ones, but time and doom to all. 12 For man knows not his time. Like fishes taken in the net, or like to birds ensnared, So are the sons of Adam snared when comes the evil hour, And falls upon them suddenly, unwarned. XXXIII Koheleth gives an historical example of the little avail that wisdom is to its possessor, yet still protesting its desirableness, and its intrinsic superiority to strength and weapons of war—How sin and folly, too, may render it ineffectual, and even turn it to evil. Chapter IX 13This, too, I saw, a mystery62 great [to me] beneath the sun: 14A little city—few its men—a monarch great invading, With hosts surrounds, and builds against it mighty mounds of siege. 15A man was found therein, a poor man, yet most-wise. This man the city by his wisdom saved; Yet no one did that poor wise man remember. 16 Then said I, true it is, that wisdom’s more than strength; Yet see—the poor man’s wisdom—how despised, his words unheard! 17Words of the wise! in quiet are they heard Beyond the shout of him who rules o’er fools. 18 Sure, wisdom is a better thing than instruments of war; Though all its good so great one sinner may destroy. Chapter IX 1Like as dead flies, with frothy taint, the fragrant oil corrupt, So taints63 a little folly, one for worth and wisdom famed. XXXIV A series of moral meditations, having more of suggestive than of logical association—Their main drift, that men should employ their faculties in the best way they can, notwithstanding the little efficiency of human wisdom in seccuring good and avoiding evil. Chapter IX 2The wise man’s heart is on his right, the fool’s heart on his left. 3Even by the way, as walks the fool, his understanding fails, And unto every one he meets, his folly he proclaims. 4 If e’er against thee swell the ruler’s rage, leave not thy place; Though great the offence, the yielding spirit calms. 5Another evil have I seen beneath the sun : An error such as comes from princes’ favor; 6 Folly is set on high, the rich sit lowly on the ground. 7 Servants on horses mounted have I seen;— Princes, like servants, walking on the earth. XXXV There is danger, too, in the ordinary avocations of life. Chapter X. 8Who digs a ditch himself may fall therein. Who breaks a hedge, a serpent there may bite him. 9He who removeth stones, gets hurt thereby, Who cleaveth trees, by them is put in peril. 10If dull the iron, and its edge he fails to sharpen well, Then greater force he needs,64 and help of wise dexterity. XXXVI The babbler—Speech of the wise—Of the foolish—Vain predictions. Chapter X. 11A serpent that without enchantment bites— So is the slanderer’s tongue; no gain hath it to its possessor. 12 Words of the wise man’s mouth,—they’re words of grace; Lips of the fool,—the fool himself they swallow up; 13 His words in folly that began, in raving madness end. 14Predicting65 words he multiplies; yet man can never know, The thing that shall be, yea, what cometh after who shall tell ? 15Vain toil of fools ! it wearieth him,—this man that knoweth naught That may befall his going to the city.66 XXXVII Evils of bad government—A blessing on the well-ruled State—Evils of slothfulness—The feast for joy—But money answers all—Revile not the powerful, or the rich. Chapter X. 16 Woe unto thee, O land,—thy king a child,— Thy nobles rising early to the feast. 17 Blessed art thou, O land,—thy king the son of princely sires,— Thy nobles timely in their feasts, for strength,—not revelry. 18Through slothfulness the building goes to ruin; When hands hang down, the house lets67 in the rain. 19For mirth do men prepare the feast, and wine to gladden life; But money is the power that answers all. 20Not even in thy thought revile the king, Nor in thy chamber, dare to curse the rich; The bird of heaven shall carry forth the sound; The swift of wing the secret word reveal. XXXVIII Be boldly liberal—Let nature have its course—But do thy present duty—The Spirit’s mysterious way—The secret of life known only to God—Be diligent and leave the issue to God—Life is sweet, but remember the day of darkness. Chapter XI. 1Upon the waters boldly cast thy bread; For thou shalt find it after many days. 2 To seven a portion give, yea, more, to eight; Thou knowest not what evil may be coming on the land. 3 If clouds be full of rain, they pour it on the earth. Whether to North, or South the tree shall fall, Where’er it falls, there shall it surely lie. 4He who observes the wind shall never sow. Who gazes on the clouds shall never reap. 5’Tis like the spirit’s way;68 thou knowest it not; Or how the bones do grow within the pregnant womb; Even so thou knowest not the way of God, Who worketh all. 6Then in the morning sow thy seed; Nor yet at evening stay thy hand. For which shall prosper, this or that, Or both alike shall profit bring, Lies all beyond thy ken. 7 Sweet is the light, and pleasant to the eye to see the sun. 8Yet if a man live many years, rejoicing in them all,69 The days of darkness let him not forget, That they are many; all that cometh, still is vanity. XXXIX Youth warned of Judgment—Declared to be Vanity—Early Remembrance of the Creator—Old age and its gathering Darkness—The dissolving Earthly House. Figure of the Castle with its Keepers—Its men of Might—Its Purveyors, or Grinders—Its Watchmen—Its closing Gates—Fears of old age—Its Burdens—Its Hoary Hairs—Its failing Desire—The Beth Olam, or House of Eternity—Other Figures—The Broken Lamp—The Ruined Fountain—The Flesh to Dust—The Soul to God. The closing cry of Vanity—Hebel Hebalim—“A vapor that appeareth for a little while,” Jas. 4:14. Chapter XI 9Rejoice O youth in childhood; let thy heart Still cheer thee in the day when thou art strong.70 Go on in every way thy will shall choose, And after every form thine eyes behold; But know that for all this thy God will thee to judgment bring. 10O then, turn sorrow from thy soul, keep evil from thy flesh; For childhood and the morn71 of life, they, too, are vanity. Chapter XII 1Remember thy Creator, then, in days when thou art young; Before the evil days are come, before the years draw nigh; When thou shalt say—delight in them is gone. 2Before the sun, the morning light,72 the moon, the stars, grow dark, And after rain the clouds again do evermore return; 3Before the keepers of the house do shake, Its men of might [its strong supporters] bend, And they who grind, in strength and numbers, fail; When darkness falls on them who from the turret windows watch;73 4And closing are the doors that lead abroad;74 When the hum75 of the mill is sounding low, Though it rise76 to the sparrow’s note, And voices6 loudest in the song, do all to faintness sink. 5When they shall be afraid of what is high; And terrors fill the way; And the almond77 tree shall bloom, The insects’ weight oppress,78 And all desire shall fail; For thus man goes to his eternal house,79 Whilst round about the streets the mourners walk— 6Before the silver cord shall part,80 the golden bowl be dashed, The bucket broken at the spring, the wheel at cistern crushed, 7And dust goes down to earth from whence it came, And soul returns again to Him who gave it at the first. 8O vanity of vanities, the preacher saith, O vanity of vanities ! all—vanity. XL A prose Scholium by the general author, or compiler, praising the wisdom of Koheleth, and the excellence of his doctrine, with a closing poetic extract from the Solomonic meditations, as suitable to it. This is followed by the solemn conclusion to the whole as taken from the same ancient source. Chapter XII 9 And moreover; Because the Preacher was wise,81 he continued to teach the people knowledge. 10 Yea, he gave an attentive ear, and sought out, and set in order, many parables. The Preacher sought to find acceptable words, and what he wrote was upright, even words of truth. 11 Words of the wise! like piercing goads are they; Like driven nails their gathered82 sentences, All from One Shepherd given. The Grand Conclusion 12Be warned, my son,—’tis only left to say— Of making many chapters83 there’s no end; And thinking long is wearying to the flesh. 13 The great conclusion hear: FEAR GOD AND HIS COMMANDMENTS KEEP, FOR THIS IS ALL OF MAN. 14For every work, yea, every secret deed, Both good and evil, God will surely into judgment bring. Footnotes: [1] [Such common-places abound in the best poetry, ancient or modern. Often, when rightly set, they furnish its most precious gems. Especially is this the case with the more sombre and meditative poetry, as in Young’s Night Thoughts, and the more serious poems of Tennyson. “Many of the ideas of his In Memoriam,” says a certain critic, “are the merest common-places; strip them of their stilted verbiage, and there is nothing left but the most vapid truisms.” Such criticism is, itself, both vapid and shallow. Common ideas have their uncommon or wonderful aspects, which the common mind fails to see, or loses sight of because of their supposed commonness. Thus, time presents a very ordinary conception, but think of it in connection with its infinite past, its infinite future, its infinitesimal present, or as an immeasurable cycle repeating itself, and “demanding the ages fled,” as Koheleth represents it (chap. 1:10; 3:15), and how full of the most solemn awe, as well as the deepest personal interest. Take, for example, one of the most ordinary truisms that we find in almost every mouth: “The past is gone, we can never recall it.” How tame and prosaic it sounds when presented merely as a truth or dogma. But give it a subjective interest such as comes from the diction and association in which Young presents it, and how full of emotion! Hark! ’this the knell of my departed hours; Where are they ? With the years beyond the flood; or as it appears in the Hebrew parallelism of Koheleth (chap. 7:24): Far off! the past—where is it? Deep! a deep, O who shall find it? Or as the kindred thought meets us in the musings of Tennyson : But the tender grace of a day that is dead, Will never come back to me. Of course, it will never come back. As a mere fact, or preceptive statement, we want no teacher, inspired or uninspired, to tell us that. But what, then, has changed the dry truism into a thought so full of the most touching interest that we read the simple lines over and over again, wondering at the strange power that is in them. It is in the rhythm, some would say. This is true, but not in the mere auricular sense. The rhythm has an effect, though the measure is of the simplest kind. It will be found, however, on analysis, to consist in the fact of its disposing the reader to the meditative or subjective state of soul. It sets the mind soliloquizing, unconsciously, as it were. It makes the thought and language seem, for the moment, as though they were the reader’s own. It brings the idea to him in its emotional rather than in its intellectual, or dogmatic, aspect. In other words, it presents the uncommon side of the seeming truism. It is not only a deep view of being in general, but it is one that belongs to himself; and this is the secret of his emotion.—T. L.] [2] [The earlier Greek ideas, as manifested in their solemn dramatic poetry, before the Epicurean philosophy had been fully introduced, remind us strikingly, sometimes, of the language and ideas of the Bible. Nowhere else, out of the Scriptures, is this doctrine of retributive justice, and its awful certainty, more sternly set forth. The manner of expression, sometimes, shocks our more merciful Christian ideas; yet still we recognize in them the primitive dogma of the divine unfailing Justice, as inseparable from the divine Power and Wisdom: ὴ παλαίφατος ΔΊΚΗ ξύνεδρος Ζηνὸς ἀρχαίοις νόμοις: Diké, renowned of old, Who shares, by ancient laws, the throne of Jove. soph (Ed., col.1381.—T. L.] [3]See P. 45.— [4]P. 35, Text Note to 5:5— [5]P. 38, note.— [6]P. 39, and Text Note, pp. 35, 36. [7]P. 36, Text Note to 5:14. [8]P. 54, third note.— [9]P. 56, first note.— [10]P. 56, second note. [11]P. 53, Text Note to 5:13— [12]P. 58, proverbial saying.— [13]P. 58, second note.— [14]P. 58, third note. V. [15]P. 59, second note. [16]P. 60, note.— [17]P. 61, third note. [18]P. 67, note, also Excursus on Olamic Words. [19]Words, p.51.— [20]Excursus, p. 72. [21]P. 69, note.— [22]P. 70, 71, note.— [23]P. 72, note.— [24]The same. [25]P. 81. 9. [26]P. 81, second note. 12. [27]Excursus, p. 84.— [28]The same.— [29]Excursus, p.85. [30]The same. [31]P. 89, and note p. 141.— [32]P. 90, second note. [33]P. 91, second note.— [34]P. 92, note. [35]P. 93, second note.— [36]P. 94, note. [37]P. 94, second note.— [38]The same. [39]P. 99, first note. [40]P. 100, note also p. 177, Int. to Met. Ver. [41]Question and Answer.— [42]P. 101, note. [43]P. 179, Int. to Met. Vers.— [44]P. 106, note, and Text Note, p. 104. [45]P. 107, first note.— [46]P. 107, second note. [47]P. 108, first note.— [48]P. 109.— [49]P. 109, third note. [50]Note pp. 113,114. [51]P. 113, Text Note to 5. 2.— [52]P. 117, note. [53]P. 118, first note. [54]P. 119, note. [55]P. 120, note. [56]Pp. 67, 68, note. [57]Vaihinger, p. 124, 2d col.— [58]P. 125, 1st note. [59]P. 126, second note.— [60]Excursus II., p. 135, 1st col.— [61]Excursus I., p. 131, 1st col. [62]P. 127, note.— [63]P. 138, note. [64]P. 140. [65]P. 141, note.— [66]Pp. 141, 142, note. [67]P. 143, second col. [68]Excursus, p. 147.— [69]P. 151, note. [70]Pp. 151, 152, note.— [71]P. 152, second col.— [72]P. 154, first note— [73]P. 155, first note— [74]P. 155, second note.— [75]P. 155, third note.— [76]the same. [77]P. 157, first note.— [78]P. 157, second note.— [79]Excursus, p. 158.— [80]P. 160, second note. [81]Notes 165, 166.— [82]p.165, Text Note to v. 11.— [83]P.168, first note, and Appendix to Int., p.30. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 9: 01.8. MALACHI NEW METRICAL TRANSLATION ======================================================================== NEW METRICAL TRANSLATION _____________ SECTION I Jehovah’s distinguishing Love to Israel (Malachi 1:1-6). 1 The burden of the word of Jehovah to Israel, by the hand of Malachi. 2 I have loved you, saith Jehovah, And if ye say, “Wherein hast thou loved us?” Was not Esau brother to Jacob? saith Jehovah, And yet I loved Jacob, 3 And Esau I hated; And made his mountains a desolation, And his inheritance for the jackals of the desert. 4 Although Edom say, “We are ruined, Yet will we build again the ruins;” Thus saith Jehovah of Hosts; They may build, but I will pull down; And men shall call them, “The land of wickedness; And the people against whom Jehovah is angry forever.” 5 And your eyes shall see it, and ye shall say, Great be Jehovah over the land of Israel! SECTION II Rebuke of the Priests (Malachi 1:6 to Malachi 2:9) 6 A son honors his father, And a servant his master; But if I am a father, where is mine honor? And if I am a master, where is my fear? Saith Jehovah of Hosts to you, ye priests, that despise my name. Yet ye say, “Wherewith have we despised thy name?” 7 In offering polluted bread upon mine altar. And if ye say, “Wherewith have we polluted thee?” In that ye say, “The table of the Lord is contemptible.” And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, (Ye say) “There is nothing evil!” 8 And when ye offer the lame and the sick, (Ye say), “There is nothing evil!” Offer it then to thy governor; Will he be gracious to thee, Or accept thy person? Saith Jehovah of Hosts. 9 And now, I pray you, beseech God to be gracious unto us! (By your hand hath this been done !) Will he show favor, Saith Jehovah of Hosts? 10 O that some one of you would even shut the doors, That ye might not light the fire upon mine altar to no purpose! I have no pleasure in you, saith Jehovah of Hosts, And sacrifice from your hand I will not accept. 11 For from the rising of the sun even to its setting, My name shall be great among the nations, And in every place shall incense be offered to my name, And a pure offering; For my name shall be great among the nations. 12 But ye profane it, In that ye say, “The table of the Lord is polluted, And the fruit thereof, even its food, is contemptible.” 13 Ye say also, Behold, what weariness! And ye snuff at it, Saith Jehovah of Hosts. And ye bring that which is stolen, and lame, and sick, And present it for an offering! Shall I accept it from your hand? Saith Jehovah. 14 And cursed be the deceiver, Who, when there is in his flock a male, Vows and sacrifices to Jehovah that which is blemished; For I am a great king, saith Jehovah of Hosts, And my name is feared among the nations. 1 And now, ye priests, this sentence is to you! 2 If ye will not hearken, If ye will not lay it to heart, To give glory to my name, saith Jehovah of Hosts, I will send a curse’ upon you, And I will curse your blessings; Yea, I have cursed them already. Because ye do not lay it to heart. 3 Behold I will rebuke for you the seed; And I will spread dung upon your faces, The dung of your solemn feasts, And ye shall be taken away to it. 4 And ye shall know that I have sent to you this sentence, That my covenant with Levi may continue, 5 Saith Jehovah of Hosts. My covenant with him was life and peace, And I gave them to him for fear, And he feared me, and reverenced my name. 6 The law of truth was in his mouth, And unrighteousness was not found in his lips; He walked with me in truth and equity, And turned many away from iniquity. 7 For the lips of the priest should keep knowledge, And men should seek the law from his mouth; For he is a messenger of Jehovah of Hosts. 8 But ye have departed from the way, Ye have caused many to stumble at the law, And ye have made void the covenant with Levi, Saith Jehovah of Hosts; Therefore will I also make you Despicable and base before all the people; Because ye have not kept my ways, But have had respect to persons in the law. _____________ SECTION III Rebuke of Divorce and Mixed Marriages (Malachi 2:10-17) 10 Have we not all one Father? Hath not one God created us? Why do we act treacherously one toward another, And profane the Covenant of our fathers? 11 Judah hath acted treacherously, And an abomination is committed in Israel, and in Jerusalem, For Judah hath profaned the holy people of Jehovah, which He loveth, And hath married the daughter of a strange God. 12 Jehovah will cut off from the tents of Jacob the man that doeth this, The waker and the answerer, And him that bringeth a sacrifice to Jehovah of Hosts. 13 And this second thing ye do, Ye cover the altar of Jehovah with tears, With weeping, and with groans, So that He hath no more regard to the offering, Nor accepts it as well-pleasing from your hand. 14 And if ye say, “Wherefore? (doth He not accept?)” Because Jehovah has been witness between thee and the wife of thy youth. Against whom thou hast acted treacherously, While she was thy companion, and the wife of thy covenant. 15 But did He not make one (pair)? Though He had a residue of the Spirit? And wherefore one? He sought a godly seed. Therefore take heed to your spirit, And act not treacherously to the wife of thy youth! 16 For I hate divorce, Saith Jehovah, the God of Israel, And him that covers with cruelty his garment. _____________ SECTION IV The Coming of the Angel of the Covenant for Judgment (Malachi 2:17 to Malachi 3:6) 17 Ye have wearied Jehovah with your words, And if ye say, “Wherein have we wearied Him?” In that ye say, “Every evil doer Is good in the eyes of Jehovah, And in them He hath delight,” Or, “Where is the God of judgment?” 1 Behold, I send my messenger, That he may prepare the way before me; And the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, And the Angel of the Covenant, whom ye desire, Behold he comes, saith Jehovah of Hosts. 2 But who can endure the day of his coming? And who can stand at his appearing? For he is like the smelter’s fire, And like the lye of the washer. 3 And He will sit as a smelter, and purifier of silver, And will purify the sons of Levi, And will refine them, as gold and silver, That they may offer to Jehovah sacrifices in righteousness. 4 And the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to Jehovah, As in the days of former times, And as in past years. 5 And I will come near to you to judgment; And I will be a swift witness Against the sorcerers, and against the adulterers, and against those who swear for deceit, And against those who defraud the hireling of his wages, And oppress the widow and the fatherless, And turn aside the stranger from his right, And fear not me, saith Jehovah of Hosts. 6 For I, Jehovah, change not: Therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed. _____________ SECTION V Rebuke for Neglect of Tithes and Offerings (Malachi 3:7-12) 7 From the days of your fathers ye have departed from mine ordinances, And have not kept them; Return to me, and I will return to you, Saith Jehovah of Hosts. And ye say, “Wherein shall we return?” Will a man defraud God, that ye defrauded me? “And ye say, “Wherein have we defrauded thee?” In the tithe and in the heave offering. Ye are cursed with a curse. Yet ye defraud me, even the whole nation. 10 Bring ye the whole tithe into the treasure house, That there may be food in my house, And prove me now herewith, Saith Jehovah of Hosts, If I will not open you the windows of heaven, And pour out upon you a blessing till there is not room enough. 11 And I will rebuke for you the devourer, That he may not destroy the fruit of your ground, Nor will your vine be barren in the field, Saith Jehovah of Hosts. 12 And all nations shall call you blessed, For ye shall be a joyful land, Saith Jehovah of Hosts. _____________ SECTION VI Retribution of the Righteous and the Wicked (Malachi 3) 13 Your words have been bold against me, saith Jehovah; And ye say, “What have we spoken with out another against thee?” 14 Ye have said, It is a vain thing to serve God, And what gain is it, that we have kept has ordinance, And walked mournfully because of Jehovah of Hosts? 15 For now we call the proud happy. Yea, the doers of wickedness are built up, Yea, they have tempted God, and have been delivered. 16 Then those, who feared Jehovah, conversed with one another, And Jehovah attended and heard; And a book of remembrance was written before Him, For them that feared Jehovah, And that thought upon his name. 17 And they shall be my property, saith Jehovah, In the day which I appoint, And I will spare them, As a man spareth his own son, that serveth him. 18 Then shall ye again discern [The difference] between the righteous and the wicked, Between him who serveth God, And him that serveth Him not. IV. 1 For behold the day cometh, burning like a furnace, And all the proud, and every doer of wickedness shall be chaff, And the coming day shall burn them up, Saith Jehovah of Hosts, So that it will not leave them root nor branch. 2 But unto you, that fear my name, Shall the Sun of Righteousness arise With healing in his wings. And ye shall go forth, and leap [for joy], Like calves of the stall. 3 And ye shall tread down the wicked, For they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet, In the day which I appoint, saith Jehovah of Hosts. 4 Remember ye the law of Moses, my servant, Which I commanded him upon Horeb for all Israel, My statutes and my precepts! 5 Behold, I send you Elijah the prophet, Before the day of Jehovah come, The great and terrible day. 6 He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the sons, And the heart of the sons to the fathers, That I may not come And smite the land with a curse. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 10: 02.001. THE LIFE OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST ======================================================================== THE LIFE of THE LORD JESUS CHRIST: a complete critical examination of the origin, contents, and connection of THE GOSPELS. translated from the german of J. P. LANGE, D.D., professor of divinity in the university of bonn. edited, with additional notes, by THE REV. MARCUS DODS, A.M. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. I-IV. EDINBURGH: T. & T. CLARK, 38 GEORGE STREET. london: hamilton and co. dublin: john robertson and co. mdccclxxii. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 11: 02.002. TABLE OF CONTENTS ======================================================================== CONTENTS EDITOR’S PREFACE AUTHOR’S PREFACE FIRST BOOK THE INTRODUCTION PART I-THE FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS OF THE GOSPEL HISTORY Sect.1.The Incarnation of God 2.The Personality of Man 3. Organism in the Province of Personal Human Life 4.The Fulness of the Time 5.The Ideality of the Gospel History 6.The Effect of the Ideal History: The Sacred Remembrance PART II-THE MORE GENERAL RECORDS OF THE LIFE OF THE LORD JESUS Sect.1.General Survey 2.The New Testament 3.The Old Testament 4.The Theocracy, especially the Christian Church 5.The Spiritual Life of Mankind PART III-THE HISTORIC RECORDS OF THE LIFE OF JESUS Sect.1.The Phenomenon of the Four Gospels 2.The Four Gospels as Records of the Life of Christ PART IV-CRITICISM OF THE TESTIMONIES TO THE GOSPEL HISTORY Sect.1.General Survey 2.The Gospel History as Criticism 3.Antagonistic Criticism in general 4.Antagonistic Criticism in its Subordinate Principles and Aspects 5.Antagonistic Criticism in its Dialectic Dealings 6.Antagonistic Criticism, in its intermixture of Contradictory Assumptions and Opposite Modes of Treatment 7.The Christian Theological Criticism of the Gospel Narratives PART V-THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE FOUR GOSPELS Sect.1.The Ecclesiastical Corroboration of the Four Gospels in general 2.The Authenticity of the First Gospel 3.The Authenticity of the Second Gospel 4.The Authenticity of the Third Gospel 5.The Authenticity of the Fourth Gospel PART VI-THE ORIGIN OF THE FOUR GOSPELS Sect.1.Various Views of the Origin of the Four Gospels 2.The Origin of the Gospels in general 3.Origin of the Gospels in particular PART VII-THE RELATION OF THE FOUR GOSPELS TO THE GOSPEL HISTORY Sect.1.An Attempt to exhibit the Gospel History in its Unity 2.The Gospel History in the Organic Fourfold Development of its Fulness SECOND BOOK THE HISTORICAL DELINEATION OF THE LIFE OF JESUS PRELIMINARY DISCUSSION Sect.1.The Principal Chronological Periods ascertained 2.The Periods of Christ’s Life PART I-THE HISTORICAL SPHERE OF CHRIST’S LIFE Sect.1.The Relations of Time and Place among which Christ appeared 2.The Scene of Christ’s Life, the Promised Land PART II-THE HISTORY OF THE BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF THE LORD JESUS Sect.1.Preliminary Remarks 2.The Angel Gabriel 3.Zacharias 4.The Virgin Mary 5.Mary and Elisabeth 6.The Birth of Jesus at Bethlehem 7.The First Homage, or the Shepherds and the Wise Men 8.The Flight into Egypt 9.The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple 10.The Settlement in Nazareth 11.The Fulfilments 12.The Development of Jesus 13.The Family Relations of Jesus PART III-THE ANNOUNCEMENT AND CHARACTER OF CHRIST’S PUBLIC MINISTRY Sect.1.Determination of the Dates 2.John the Baptist 3.The Participation of Jesus in the Baptism of John 4.The Manifestation of the Messiah to the People of Israel 5.The God-Man 6. The Tempter 7.The Spiritual Rest and Spiritual Labour of Christ in the Wilderness-the Temptation 8.The Plan of Jesus 9.The Miracles of Jesus 10.The Teachings of Christ, especially the Parables 11.The Kingdom of God PART IV-THE PUBLIC APPEARANCE AND ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION OF CHRIST Sect.1.The Public Testimony of the Baptist to Christ before the Jewish Rulers 2.The Testimony of John to the Dignity of Christ, uttered to his Disciples 3.The First Disciples of Jesus 4.The Marriage at Cana 5.The First Messianic Attendance of Jesus on the Passover, and the Purification of the Temple 6.The Conversation by Night with Nicodemus 7.The Last Public Testimony of the Baptist to Jesus 8.Conversation of Jesus with the Samaritan Woman 9.The Prophet in His own City of Nazareth 10.The Nobleman of Capernaum 11.The Residence of Jesus at Capernaum. The Man with an Unclean Spirit in the Synagogue. Peter’s Wife’s Mother. Peter’s Draught of Fishes. The Calling of the Apostles 12.The First Journey of Jesus from Capernaum through Galilee. The Sermons on the Mount. The Healing of the Leper 13.The Return of Jesus from His Tour through Galilee. The Centurion of Capernaum. The Candidates for Discipleship. The second Discourse on the Sea-shore. The Crossing the Sea to Gadara, and the Return Home 14.The Return of Jesus to Capernaum from His Journey to Gadara. The Throng of People. The Paralytic. The Calling of Matthew. More decided Conflicts with the Pharisees and with John’s Disciples. A Succession of Miracles 15.Preparations for a new Journey. The Separation of the Twelve Apostles. The Instructions given to the Apostles 16.The first Journey of the Apostles. The Progress of Christ through the Towns. The Woman who was a Sinner. The Followers of Jesus. The Young Man at Nain 17.The Baptist’s Embassy PART V-THE TIME OF JESUS’ APPEARING AND DISAPPEARING AMID THE PERSECUTIONS OF HIS MORTAL ENEMIES Sect.1.Jesus in Jerusalem at the Feast of Purim. His Conflict with the Hierarchy, and its first attempt to bring about His Death 2.The Return of Jesus to Galilee. The News of the Baptist’s Execution. The first Feeding of the Multitude in the Wilderness. Christ Walking on the Sea 3.Jesus’ Discourse in the Synagogue at Capernaum concerning the Manna from Heaven 4.The Feast of the Passover in the Year of Persecution 5.Jesus accused of Heresy in the Corn-field 6.The Man with the Withered Hand. Christ’s Ministry in Retirement 7.The Public Decisive Conflict between Jesus and the Galilean Pharisees. Great Opposition between the Popular Sentiment and the Sentiment of the Hierarchy in Galilee. Animated Scenes in continuous succession. (The Healing of a Twofold Demoniacal Suffering, in one both Blind and Dumb. The second Calumniation of the Miraculous Power of Jesus. The second Demand of a Sign from Heaven. The Family of Jesus. The Disturbed Feast in the Pharisee’s House. The Crowding in of the Populace. The Warning against the Hypocrisy of the Pharisees and against Covetousness. The Discourse in Parables on the Sea-shore) 8.Accounts given by Persons returning from the Feast, of the Galileans whom Pilate had slaughtered in the Temple 9.A Fresh Sabbath Cure: the Woman who was bowed together 10.The Deputation from Jerusalem which takes the Lord to task on account of the free Behaviour of His Disciples. Jesus’ distant Mountain Journeys to the Borders of the Phœnician District, and through Upper Galilee to Gaulonitis, on the other side of the Sea. (The Canaanitish Woman. The Mute. The second Miraculous Feeding. The Passage to the Western Shore of Galilee) 11.The Public Attack made upon Jesus at Magdala, and His Return across the Sea to the Hill Country of Gaulonitis. The Healing of a Blind Man at Bethsaida. Peter’s Confession, and Peter’s Shrinking from the Cross 12.The Transfiguration of Jesus 13.The Healing of the Lunatic 14.The Private Journey of Christ through Galilee, and the Exhortation of His Brethren that He should step out of this Concealment, by taking part in the approaching Pilgrimage to the Feast. His Rejection of their Advice, and Secret Journey to Jerusalem 15.The Sudden Public Appearance of Jesus in the Temple at Jerusalem during the Feast of Tabernacles. He charges His Enemies before all the People with seeking His Death, and announces His Departure from the Jewish People 16.Jesus begins to announce the Contrast between the Old Testament Symbols of the Temple, and the Reality of New Testament Salvation in Himself. His Testimony respecting the Living Fountain in contrast to the Fountain of Siloah, on the Last Day of the Feast of Tabernacles. The Frustration of the Purpose of the Sanhedrim to take Him Prisoner 17.Jesus the Light of the World in contrast with the Lights of the Temple 18.The more distinct Announcement of Jesus, that He was on the Point of taking leave of the Jewish People 19.The Contrast between Christian Freedom and Jewish Bondage, and between the Faith of Abraham and the Seeing of Christ 20.The Cure of the Man Born Blind 21.Jesus gives the False Shepherds of Israel the Tokens by which they might know the True Shepherd, and sets Himself forth as the True Shepherd who was ready to give His Life for His Flock 22.The Last Public Appearance of Jesus at Capernaum. Discussions among the Disciples relative to the Primacy 23.The Danger of Offences 24.An Intimation of Jesus of the Falling Away of a Large Body of the People 25.The Artifices of the Pharisees 26.The Entertainment in the Pharisee’s House. The Man with the Dropsy. Observations addressed by Christ to His Fellow-Guests 27.The Train which followed Jesus in departing from Galilee. The Warning addressed to Undecided Followers 28.Christ receiving Publicans and Sinners. The Communion existing among the Disciples of Christ 29.Jesus prevented from Travelling through Samaria 30.The Sending Forth of the Seventy, and the Retrospect of Jesus on His Galilean Ministry 31.The Journey of Jesus through the Borders between Galilee and Samaria to Perea 32.The Return of the Seventy. The Narrow-hearted Lawyer and the Good Samaritan 33.Jesus’ First Abode in Perea, and His Ministry there 34.Jesus in Jerusalem at the Feast of Dedication 35.Last Stay of Jesus in Perea. The Discussion concerning Divorce. The Children. The Rich Youth 36.The Raising of Lazarus at Bethany 37.The Definite Resolution of the Sanhedrim to put Jesus to Death. The Abode of Jesus in Retirement at the Town of Ephraim, until His going up to celebrate the Last Passover PART VI.-THE FINAL SURRENDER OF CHRIST TO THE MESSIANIC ENTHUSIASM OF HIS PEOPLE Sect.1.The Journey of Jesus to Jericho, and His Association with the Pilgrims to the Passover. The Renewed Prediction of His Death on the Cross. The Wish of the Family of Zebedee. The Healing of the Blind at Jericho. Zaccheus. The Parable of the Ten Servants and the Ten Pounds entrusted to them 2.Chronological Data 3.The Banquet at Bethany, and the Anointing. The Betrayal 4.The Festal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem 5.The single Day of the Messianic Abode and Administration of Jesus in the Temple. Especially the Cursing of the Fig-Tree. The Cleansing of the Temple. The Consecration of the Temple. The Exercise of the Teacher’s Office, and the Miracles of Healing in the Temple. The Hosanna of the Children. The indignation of the Pharisees, and its Rebuke. The Greeks, and the Voice from Heaven 6.The End of the Old Testament Theocracy. The Withered Fig-Tree. The Inquiry on the part of the Sanhedrim for Christ’s Authority. The Separation between Christ and the Sanhedrim. The Parable of the Two Sons, of the Mutinous Vine-dressers, and of the Wedding Feast of the King’s Son. The Ironical Temptations of Jesus as the Theocratic King. The Counter-question of Christ. The Solemn Denunciation by Jesus of the Scribes and Pharisees. The Lamentation over Jerusalem, and the Departure from the Temple. The Look of Approval on the Widow’s Mite 7.The Retrospect of Jesus on the Temple, from the top of the Mount of Olives, surrounded by His confidential Disciples. The Announcement of the Judgment of God, of the Destruction of the Holy City and of the Temple, as well as of the End of the World. The Parables of the Ten Virgins and of the Talents. The Judgment of the World-Watch! 8.The Withdrawal of Jesus into Retirement again. Retrospect of the Evangelist John upon the Ministry of the Lord PART VII.-THE TREASON OF THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL AGAINST THE MESSIAH. THE DECISION OF THE SANHEDRIM. THE PASCHAL LAMB, AND THE LORD’S SUPPER. THE PARTING WORDS. THE PASSION, DEATH, AND BURIAL OF JESUS. THE RECONCILING OF THE WORLD. Sect.1.The Last Announcement of Jesus that His Death was at hand. The Decision of the Sanhedrim. The Appointment and the Preparation of the Passover Feast 2.The Footwashing. The Passover. The Institution of the Holy Communion. The Parting Words of the Lord. The High-Priestly Prayer. The going out into the Mount of Olives 3.Jesus in Gethsemane. The Struggle and Victory of His Passion of Soul 4.Jesus in Gethsemane in the Presence of His Enemies. The Traitor. The Voluntary Surrender of Jesus to be made Prisoner. The Confidence of the Disciples, and their Flight 5.Jesus before the Ecclesiastical Tribunal of the Jews. Before Annas and Caiaphas. The False Witnesses. The True Witness, with the Acknowledgment that He is the Son of God. The Sentence of Death. The Denial of Peter, and his Repentance. The First Mockery of the Lord. The Final Ecclesiastical Determination 6.Jesus brought before the Judgment-seat of Pilate. The End of Judas. 7. Jesus before the Secular Tribunal. [The Threefold Charge: that He is a stirrer up of the People, a Blasphemer of God, an Enemy of Cæsar. The Three Trials: before Pilate, before Herod, and again before Pilate. The Three Warning Tokens: the Irritation of the Sanhedrim, the Dream of Pilate’s Wife, the Assertion that Jesus was the Son of God. The Three Acquittals. The Three Attempts at Deliverance: Barabbas, the Scourging, the Final Resistance of Pilate. The Three Rejections of Jesus by the Jewish People. The Three Condemnations: the Delivery of Jesus to the Will of the People, The Scourging, the Delivery to Death. The Second and Third Mockery of Christ. The Handwashing of the Heathen. The Jews’ Imprecation upon themselves.] The Condemnation to Death 8.Jesus led away to Golgotha 9.The Crucifixion. The Death of Jesus 10.The Burial of the Lord 11.Christ’s solemn Sabbath; the Redemption and Reconciliation of the World; Christ’s Entrance into the World of Spirits, and the Mystery of His Birth from Death to New Life PART VIII.-OUR LORD’S RESURRECTION OR GLORIFICATION Sect.1.The first Tidings of Christ’s Resurrection 2.Intimation of Christ’s Resurrection brought to His Enemies 3.The Walk to Emmaus 4.The First Appearance of Christ in the Circle of the Apostles on the First Sunday Evening 5.The Second Appearance of Christ in the Circle of the Apostles on the Second Sunday: Thomas 6.The Third Appearance of Christ in the Circle of the Apostles. The First Revelation in Galilee 7.Jesus showing Himself to His Disciples on the Mountain in Galilee. His taking Leave of the Wider Circle of the Disciples 8.The Truth of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ 9.The Corporeity of the Risen Saviour 10.The Ascension PART IX.-THE ETERNAL GLORY OF JESUS CHRIST. Sect.1.The Testimony of the Glorified Messiah in the Outpouring of His Holy Spirit, and in the Life of His Church 2.The Pre-historic Glory of Jesus Christ 3.The Post-historic Heavenly Glory of Jesus Christ THIRD BOOK THE LIFE OF THE LORD JESUS UNFOLDED IN ITS FULNESS, ACCORDING TO THE VARIOUS REPRESENTATIONS OF THE FOUR EVANGELISTS INTRODUCTORY REMARKS PART I.-THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MATTHEW; OR, THE REPRESENTATION OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST SYMBOLIZED BY THE SACRIFICIAL BULLOCK Sect.1.General View and Distinctive Characteristics 2.The Genealogy of the King of the Jews 3.The Two Descendants of David in their Separation and Reconciliation. Mary, the Misjudged and Justified 4.Jesus is at His Birth glorified by Divine Signs as the Messiah, or King of the Jews, and God’s Son 5.Jesus submits Himself to the Baptism of John, and is by him acknowledged as Messiah, and glorified as the Son by the Father in Heaven 6.The Temptation in the Wilderness. Our Lord’s Victory over Satan 7.The Confirmation of Christ’s Renunciation of the World. His appearance in despised Galilee. The Unostentatious Commencement of His activity. Its Great Effect 8.The Sermon on (the top or summit of) the Mount; or, the Fundamental Laws and Outlines of the Righteousness of the true Kingdom of Christ, as the true Development and Fulfilment of the Old Testament Law, in contrast to its false Development in the Maxims of the Degenerate Old Testament Economy, in the Theoretical and Practical Corruptions of it by the Scribes and Pharisees 9.The Revelation of the Essential Royal Power of Christ and His Kingdom of Heaven in the Miracles which He performed 10.The First sending forth of the Disciples, and the Instruction which our Lord gave them in its Signification for all Times 11.The decided Manifestation of the great Conflict between the Spirit of Christ and the Spirit of His People 12.The Unfolding of the Kingdom of Heaven in seven Parables 13.The Messiah Banished and Expelled from His own Country, and the distant Journeys He then takes 14.The First Founding of the New Testament Church in contrast to the Old Testament Church in its Degenerate Historical Form 15.Preparation for the last decisive Entrance of Christ into the Holy City; or, the Unfolding of the Fundamental Laws of the New Church, or the Kingdom of Heaven, in contrast to the Social Principles of the corrupt Hierarchic Church 16.The Entrance of the Messianic King into His City, and His Royal Residence, the Temple; and the unfolding of the grand outlines of His Royal Court on Earth, in contrast to the Princely System of the Old World 17.The Great Contest of the Messiah with the false Dignitaries of His Kingdom in the Precincts of the Temple: His Spiritual Victory and His Outward Retreat 18.The Messiah, before being judged by the World, represents Himself to His Disciples as the Judge of the World. The Announcement of the Judgment of the World in its different Stages: the Destruction of Jerusalem; the Woes of the World; the End of the World 19.The Sufferings of the Messiah; or, the Judgment of the People of Israel and the World on the King of the Jews 20.The Messiah in His Resurrection, coming forth in His Eternal Royal Glory-His Great Victory, His Endless Kingdom, His Message to the World, and His Peace PART II.-THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MARK; OR, THE REPRESENTATION OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST SYMBOLIZED BY THE LION Sect.1.General View and Distinctive Characteristics 2.The Beginning of the Gospel. John the Baptist appears as the Forerunner of Christ. Thereafter Christ Himself appears 3.The First Actions by which Christ, on His appearing, straightway reveals His Divine Power 4.The First Conflict of Jesus Christ with the Scribes and Pharisees 5.The First Withdrawal of Christ before His Antagonists. The increasing Reverence and Enthusiasm of the People for Him. The Extension of His Sphere of Operation, and the Choosing of the Twelve Apostles 6.The Decisive Public Conflict of Christ with the Pharisees of Galilee 7.The Reserve of Christ as shown in the Use of Parables 8.The Enhanced Manifestation of the Glory of Christ by Mighty Miracles, in which He reveals His Dominion over the Powers of Nature, the Kingdom of Spirits, the Domain of the most concealed Sufferings, and over the Power of Death itself 9.The Restraint laid on the Power of Christ in His Native City of Nazareth, and His Kingly Doings among the People of all Galilee 10.The Direct Hostility to Jesus exhibited by the Scribes from Jerusalem, and His Public Declaration against their Traditions. His Journeys beyond the Land through the Heathen Border Country of Phœnicia, and through the predominantly Heathen Regions of Decapolis 11.Jesus is constrained to Leave Galilee. His Return over the Sea, and the Distinct Announcement of His Approaching Death 12.The Departure from Galilee 13.The Sojourn of Jesus in Perea 14.The Departure of Jesus to Jerusalem 15.The Journey from Jericho to Jerusalem 16.The Cleansing of the Temple; the Decisive Struggle; and the Farewell to the Temple 17.General Features of the Announcement of the End of the World 18.The History of the Passion of Jesus 19.The Risen Lord in the Evidences of His Power PART III.-THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO LUKE; OR, THE REPRESENTATION OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST SYMBOLIZED BY THE FORM OF A MAN Sect.1.General View and Distinctive Characteristics 2.The Literary Preface 3.The Early History of the Life of Jesus. The Parents of His Forerunner. The Annunciations. The Unbelieving Priest in the Temple, and the Heroic Faith of the Virgin at Nazareth. The Hymns of Praise 4.History of the Birth and Early Life of Jesus 5.The Human Development of Jesus 6.The Threefold Attestation with which Christ opens His Public Ministry 7.The Personal Probation of the Lord in the Wilderness 8.The Beginning of the Public Career of Jesus. His Departure from His Native Town, Nazareth 9.The Second Stage in the Pilgrimage of Jesus. He fixes His Abode at Capernaum 10.The First Journey of Jesus undertaken from Capernaum. The Departure. The Gospel in Facts. The Gospel in Words 11.The First Return to Capernaum. The Extension of the Gospel Horizon by the Healing of the Servant of the Gentile Centurion 12.The Second Journey of Jesus from Capernaum. The Continuation of the Gospel in Facts. Triumph over the Ceremonial of the People, and over Death. Triumph over the Embarrassment of the Old Testament Prophet, and the Offence thereby given to the People. Triumph over the Pharisaical Spirit: the Manifestation of the Glory of Divine Grace in the House of a Pharisee. Continuation of the Gospel in Words: the Parables concerning the Kingdom of God 13.The Third Journey of Jesus from Capernaum, and His Return across the Sea. The Manifestation of the Power of Christ over the Convulsions of Nature, the Power or Demons, and Wailings for the Dead. The Miraculous Agency of Christ, breaking through the Strongest Obstacles, and achieving the most Difficult Triumphs of His Saving Power 14.The Interest which the Galilean Court takes in the Person of Jesus, and His Retreat into the Desert The Confession of the Disciples that Jesus is the Christ, and His Announcement of His Sufferings. His Transfiguration on the Mount, and His Descent into the Vale of Sorrow. The ambitious Hopes of His Disciples, and His Humility, in which He places Himself along with the Little Ones 15.The Departure of Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. Samaria. The Four Disciples and the Four Hindrances on the Way into the Kingdom of God. The Seventy Disciples. The Good Samaritan 16.Isolated Particulars from the Journey of Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. The unfolding of the Doctrine of Salvation in facts 17.The Procession to Jerusalem. The Disciples, the Leaders of the Procession, and the Beggar. Zaccheus. The Chiliasts. The Ordering of the Ass’s Colt. The Rejoicing of the Disciples, and the Weeping of the Lord, on looking down on the City of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. The Cleansing of the Temple, and the Ministry of Jesus in the Temple 18.The Contest of Jesus with the Sanhedrim in the Temple 19.The announcement of the Destruction of Jerusalem, of the Judgment, and the End of the World 20.Preparation for the Last Sufferings of Jesus 21.The Passion of Jesus 22.The Resurrection of the Lord. The Glorification of the Death on the Cross by the Word of Prophecy, and by the Resurrection according to the Scriptures. The Glory of the New Life of Christ, and the beautiful Combination of Heavenly Spirituality and Earthly Corporeity in His Manifestations. The Ascension of the Lord into Heaven amidst Tokens of Blessing for the Earth, and its Elevating Influence PART IV.-THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO JOHN; OR, THE REPRESENTATION OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST SYMBOLIZED BY THE EAGLE Sect.1.General View and Distinctive Characteristics 2.The Prologue. The Pre-historic Eternal Dominion of Christ. The Eternal Existence, the Glorious Advent, and the Completed Incarnation of the Logos; or, the Victorious Effulgence of the Light through the Darkness 3.Christ, as the Light of the World, finds everywhere a ready Reception among those who have Affinity with the Light 4.The Antagonism between the Darkness and the Light of the World in Christ, in its diverse Manifestations and Forms 5.The Fermentation, the Strife, and the Incipient Separation between the Elements and Followers of the Light, and the Elements and Followers of the Darkness, under the Influence exerted by Christ 6.The Separation between the Children of Light and the Children of Darkness effected by the Power of the Light in the Life of Jesus 7.Christ in the Company of the Children of the Light, as the Light of the World, who has Glorified the Father, who is Glorified by the Father, and Glorifies the Church, and by it the World 8.Christ among His Enemies; or, the Light of the World surrounded by the Children and the Powers of Darkness; and the Verification of His Victorious Power 9.The Resurrection of Christ; or, the Decisive Triumph of Light over Darkness. The Announcements of Christ, and the Removal of the Remains of the Old Darkness in the Children of Light 10.The Epilogue.-The Post-historical Eternal Administration of Christ His Continuous Administration in this Present World, in His Church generally, and in the Petrine and Johannean Types of His Church in particular, until the Completion of the Glorifying of His Kingdom in His Second Coming INDEXES EDITOR’S PREFACE THE work of Dr Lange, translated in the accompanying volumes, holds among books the honourable position of being the most complete Life of our Lord. There are other works which more thoroughly investigate the authenticity of the Gospel records, some which more satisfactorily discuss the chronological difficulties involved in this most important of histories, and some which present a more formal and elaborate exegetical treatment of the sources; but there is no single work in which all these branches are so fully attended to, or in which so much matter bearing on the main subject is brought together, or in which so many points are elucidated. The immediate object of this comprehensive and masterly works, was to refute these views of the life of our Lord which had been propagated by Negative Criticism, and to substitute that authentic and consistent history which a truly scientific and enlightened criticism educes from the Gospel. It is now several years since the original work appeared in Germany, but the date of its first appearance will be reckoned a disadvantage only by those who are unacquainted with the recent history of theological literature. No work has in this interval appeared which has superseded, or can be said even to compete with this. So that, while it is no doubt a pity that the English-reading public should not have had access to this work long ago, we have now the comfort of receiving a book whose merits have been tested, and which claims our attention not in the doubtful tones of a stripling, but with the authoritative accent of one that has attained his majority. A cursory notice of the leading works which have more recently been added to this department of literature, may serve both to aid younger students in selecting what may suit their tastes or intentions, and to show that the present work is by no means out of date. And, first of all, there has been issued a new edition (1854) of the work of Dr Karl Hase (Das Leben Jesu), originally published in 1829. This book is intended mainly for an academical text-book; and as such its merits are willingly acknowledged. In less than 250 pages this compact volume exhibits, one may say, all the opinions and literature connected with the life of our Lord. As an index to, or compendium of, the whole contents of this department of literature, nothing more can reasonably be desired. This must, of course, be taken with that exception which we have to attach to the majority of German works, in consideration of their ignorance of our own literature. This is manifest in Dr Hase’s manual, and sometimes even absurdly so. But, with this exception, there is given in this volume a complete view of all the opinions which have been entertained regarding the ideas and incidents of the life of our Lord, accompanied by copious references to the writings where these opinions are maintained. The style is dense and clear, and the arrangement perspicuous, so that the use of the volume as a text-book is easy. Unfortunately, the author’s own opinions are not always such as can be adopted, but must rather be added as one more variety to the mass of opinions he presents to our view. His critical judgments, often useful in demolishing the profanities of the vulgar Rationalism, are themselves tainted with the meagre theology of Schleiermacher and De Wette. He denies the divinity of Christ, while he considers Him a sinless, perfect man, in whom humanity culminates and is glorified, and by whose doctrine and life the new community is founded. He at once and distinctly enounces his position, saying (p. 15), ‘Since the divine can reveal itself in humanity only as veritable human, the perfect image of God only as the religious archetype of man, the life of Jesus must be considered as simple human life; and without giving free and constant play to the human development, we cannot speak of a history of Jesus.’ To find such a view held by a man of accomplished critical ability, of vigorous and clear intellect, and great research, is not so surprising as to find it held by one who professes, as Dr Hase does, to take John’s Gospel as the most faithful representation of our Lord. Another work of importance is that of Heinrich Ewald (Geschichte Christus’ und seiner Zeit, 1st ed. 1854, and 2d, 1857). This forms the fifth volume of the author’s History of the Hebrew People, and contains very thorough and instructive discussions of the historical circumstances of the life of Christ. The political condition of the Jews, their internal factions and their relations to the Gentile world, their religious and moral declension, are exhibited with much ability and learning; and the significance of the appearance of our Lord as a Jew in the time and place He did, is brought out with great acuteness and originality. But here again the whole work is blighted by the defective view of our Lord’s person, and the unjustifiable treatment of the documentary sources, which have spoiled so much of German criticism. Ewald views Jesus as the fulfilment of the Old Testament,-as the final, highest, fullest, clearest revelation of God,-as the true Messiah, who satisfies all right longing for God and for deliverance from the curse,-as the eternal King of the kingdom of God. But with all this, and while he depicts our Lord’s person and work, in its love, activity, and majesty, with a beauty that is not often met with, there is but one nature granted to this perfect Person, and that nature is human. He is not a man such as the rest of us, not one of the million, but the Sent of God, the Word of God, even the Son of God, prepared for through the ages gone by, attended throughout His life by the power of God, endowed with the highest gifts and imbued with the Spirit of God, so that He speaks out of God and works the works of God;-but still He on whom all this is conferred, through whom God wholly reveals and communicates Himself, and on whom the world in its helplessness hangs, is but a man. In the concluding chapter of the volume (p. 498) occurs the distinct utterance that so many former pages have seemed to contradict:-‘Even the highest divine power, when it wraps itself in a mortal body and appears in a determinate time, finds its limits in this body and this time; and never did Jesus, as the Son and the Word of God, confound Himself, or arrogantly make Himself equal, with the Father and God.’ Still, this volume is one from which a great deal may be gained. It abounds in noble, elevating thoughts, most eloquently expressed; in sudden gleams into new regions, which fire the soul. The delicate and profound spiritual insight of the author, his sense of many, if not of all, the necessities of a sinful race, enable him to apprehend and depict with wonderful power the perfect humanity of our Lord, and in part the fulfilment of His mission. A work of very different character appeared at Basle in 1858 from the pen of Professor C. J. Riggenbach. (Vorlesungen über das Leben des Herrn Jesu.) These Lectures profess to be popular, and aim throughout at the accurate apprehension of the subject on the part of the hearer, rather than at learned or ostentatious disquisition on the speaker’s part. He discards much of the conventional scientific terminology, as being nothing better than Greek and Latin fig-leaves to hide the nakedness of our knowledge. Through his own veil of popular address, however, it is easy to discern the thews and sinew of a vigorous intellect, and the careful and instructed movement of one who knows and has thoroughly investigated the numerous difficulties of his path. Here and there, too, there is inserted an excursus which enters with greater minuteness into some topic which calls for fuller discussion. In these, the author’s strength and culture are more nakedly revealed, and valuable contributions made to the solution of the questions at issue. The characteristics which this work displays, as a whole, are accuracy, taste and judgment, impartiality, reverence and spiritual discernment, and an easy, graceful, and lucid style. It is very much what there is great need of among ourselves,-a volume which should exhibit in a popular form, and in a well-arranged narrative, the results of the immense amount of labour that has recently been spent upon the Gospels. Such a want can scarcely be said to be supplied by Bishop Ellicott’s Historical Lectures on the Life of our Lord Jesus Christ (Hulsean Lectures for 1859);1 though he too proposed to combine ‘a popular mode of treating the question under consideration, and accuracy both in outline and detail.’ The actual combination is, we fear, too mechanical. A work which is so loaded with footnotes is in great danger of being unpopular. The narrative flows along the top of the page easily enough, but one is always forgetting, and ignoring its intrinsic value, and counting it merely as a row of pegs to hang the notes upon. The notes themselves are a valuable digest of all the important questions which are started by this subject, and present a selection of authorities which renders the volume an admirable guide to the student. In judging of this work, too, we must bear in mind that, until its publication, the English reader had access to no similar volume, except that of Neander. Probably, however, this book is scarcely of the same value, though it may be to many of as much interest, as those admirable commentaries by which the author has won himself so much grateful and affectionate regard, and by which he has done so much to maintain among us a respect for sound theology and Christian scholarship. And lastly, there is the unhappy work of M. Ernest Renan (Vie de Jésus, 1863), the most deplorable literary mistake of this century. It reveals a lamentable ignorance on the part of the French public, that a book, which in Germany would have been out of date twenty years ago, should now create so much excited interest. But, as we have ourselves been recently taught in this country, it is sometimes the case, that a man makes use of a popular style to introduce as novelties, statements that have been slain and buried among scholars, or to start afresh doubts that belong to a past generation. This appeal to the people, which has been so much practised of late, and which can be made with every appearance of earnestness and honesty, is not always quite above suspicion. When one brings before the public questions which have exercised the ability of professional theologians, might it not be expected that the public should be made aware that these questions are not now for the first time broached, that many critics of learning and skill have spent much labour on their solution, and that the answer now propounded or insinuated is not the only answer that can be or has been given? This, however, is by no means always attended to. An old difficulty is produced as if now for the first time discovered, and set forward as that which must quite alter the old ways of thinking, and shake us out of our established beliefs; whereas it has been considered all along, and either satisfactorily answered among scientific theologians, or else reserved for possible solution when the branch of inquiry which might throw light upon it has been more fully pursued. And in no work more than in that of M. Renan, is the labour of earnest and skilful critics ignored. Theories which have been abandoned are here used as established, and statements hazarded which no one can be asked to accept who understands what has been proved about the Gospels. If this ignorance be real, then it is culpable in one who undertakes with a very unseemly confidence to instruct an erring Christendom; if assumed, then it is nothing short of the most unworthy insolence towards those who have laboured in the same field as himself. The Christ whom M. Renan depicts, is not the perfect man of Hase, still less the perfect revelation of God that Ewald delights to invest with whatsoever things are pure and lovely, but a good-hearted Galilean peasant, who gradually degenerates into an impostor and gloomy revolutionist. The ‘Rabbi delicieux’ becomes, by some unaccountable transformation of character, a morbid, disappointed fanatic when M. Renan but waves over him his magic wand. The miracles performed by him have been enormously exaggerated, and cures which a physician of our advanced age could very simply have accomplished were then looked upon as divine works. At first, Jesus was unwilling to appear as a thaumaturge; but he found that there was but the alternative, either to satisfy the foolish expectations of the people, or to renounce his mission. He therefore prudently and honourably (M. Renan thinks) yielded to his friends, and entered on a course of mild and beneficent deception. It apparently forms no part of the author’s plan to show how this picture is reconcilable with the statements of the Gospels. The references to the narratives of the Evangelists, which are to be found on almost every page, are quite useless, being often detached from their immediate connection, and frequently grossly misapplied. So that his able reviewer, M. de Pressensé, has good cause to say: ‘A chaque pas on a des preuves nouvelles de l’aisance incroyable avec laquelle M. Renan traite les documents et de l’absence de toute méthode rigoureuse dans son livre’ (L’Ecole Critique, p. 20.) His occasional references to other and more recondite sources, and his comparison of our Lord to Cakya-Mouni, may be intended to show how impossible it is for plain people to form a correct estimate of one who lived so long ago, and under such foreign influences, and to beget the feeling that there may have been hid, among the centuries and millions of the Eastern world, reformers as zealous and philosophers as divinely inspired as Jesus; but we think it likely that most readers will find a truthfulness in the simple portrait of the Evangelists, which is not to be found in M. Renan’s erudite pages, and will refuse to abandon their belief in Him whom the Evangelists represent, even though they have not read the Vedas or the Talmud at first hand. The work of M. Renan is open to three fatal objections. It has, first of all, no historical basis. He refuses to accept the only documents from which a Life of Jesus can be derived, or he has so used them as manifestly to annul their value as historical witnesses. If in one sentence he admits their truthfulness, in the next he contradicts them. The person whom he exhibits to his readers, is not the Jesus of the Gospels. He has first formed his idea of a character, and then has selected from the original sources whatever might seem to corroborate this idea, leaving altogether out of account, and without any reason assigned for the omission, whatever contradicts his idea. Now, to say nothing of the folly of so unscientific a treatment of any historical documents, or of the utter worthlessness of whatever may be produced by such a method, every one sees that the arbitrary criticism of the author has laid him open to criticism of a like kind. If it is but a matter of private judgment what we are to receive from the Gospels, and what to reject, then why is M. Renan to become my teacher? He says, that in the relation of such and such an event or discourse, Luke is to be preferred; Ewald and Hase both come forward with denial, and assure us that, beyond all contradiction, John is to be preferred. To this no reply is possible on the part of M. Renan. He has started without principle, and has no principle to fall back upon. He has arbitrarily judged the Evangelists, and arbitrarily must himself be judged. Then, secondly, not only is the character which he depicts baseless so far as historical evidence goes, but it is inconsistent with itself, and therefore impossible. The author’s method is bad, his result is worse. He has invented a historical character, and his invention does not even meet the requirements of poetry. He has been much praised as an artist; but he lacks the highest quality of an artist, truthfulness of conception. With unusual power of representation, with a cultivated faculty for reproducing past events and transporting his readers to scenes far distant, he fails in comprehension. His work is fragmentary, not a whole. Several of its parts lack nothing in artistic beauty and power; but when we endeavour to put them together, we find that they have no affinity. All that this writer lacked in order to produce a work of incalculable influence and profit to the world, was the fellowship with his subject which would have given him the meaning and place of each event in the life, by enabling him to conceive the purpose and spirit of the whole. But starting with his own low conception, he has been forced to interpret certain acts of our Lord by causes wholly insufficient, and to exhibit a growth of character and progress of incident which a second-rate novelist would be ashamed of. He has represented the most pious of men as a deceiver, the most simple as ambitious, the most narrow and prejudice-fettered as the enlightener of all nations. No real character combines such contradictions; no dramatist who values his reputation represents his characters as passing through any such unnatural transitions. M. Renan’s book is one more proof, that we must either raise Jesus much above the level of a mere pious, pure man, or sink Him much below it. Then, thirdly, this person depicted by M. Renan is unfit to serve the required purpose. This ‘Vie de Jésus’ is the first book of a proposed ‘Histoire des Origines du Christianisme.’ And it must occur to most readers that this figure is quite an inadequate origin of Christianity. Granting that the portrait here given us were historically correct, that the conception were consistent and truthful, yet the person represented is not that person who stands at the birth of Christianity. This is not He to whom all the ages have been looking back, and whose image all Christians have borne in their hearts. This is not the morning star. Does M. Renan answer, that it is a mistake to which we have been looking back? Still it is this mistake which has made us Christians, and not the Christ of M. Renan. We descend with him to his own level, and altogether deny that the person exhibited in his volume is He who has caused and maintained our religion. What claim has this Galilean peasant on us? What has he done for us, that for his sake we should endure all hardness, taking up our cross daily and following him? He has lived well, he has spoken well; but with how many besides must he share our respect? Is it because this man has lived, that through all these centuries men have humbled themselves? Is it this man they have been clothing in clothing the naked-this man whom they have seen represented in all that needs consolation, sympathy, and help? Is it the remembrance of this man that has made life a ministry, and death a triumph? This man makes no claim on us-does not know us, and we will not own him. This person is not he who has called forth the trust of a world; this work is not that on which sinners, in the hour of their clearest vision of God, have rejoiced to rest; this character is not that which has moulded all that has been best on our earth, and all that has shone bright in its darkest places. If this be the founder of Christianity, then we must look for Christians among the sceptical and the Deists, among the careless and profane; and we must call that better religion which men (at their own instance, forsooth) have developed, and which has been the real belief and hope of Christendom, by some other name. If this be the founder of Christianity, and if Christianity be the right belief, then all religion must cease from the earth; for not only is this character unfit to sustain Christianity, but it is unfit to sustain any religion; it wants the bond. Before passing from this brief account of the very interesting literature of the life of our Lord, there should be mentioned two works, which, though they do not undertake a consideration of the whole subject, are yet so eminently serviceable in their special departments as to deserve careful study. One of these is the work of Lichtenstein on the Chronology of the Gospel Narrative (Lebensgeschichte des Herrn Jesu Christi in chronologischer Uebersicht. Erlangen, 1856). This author has the great advantage of writing after Wieseler; and, as the complement and corrective of the investigations of that very sagacious chronologist, his work does admirable service. With a mind well adapted for such research, scholarly, well-balanced, impartial, and clear, he has provided what is perhaps, on the whole, the safest chronological guide through the perplexing intricacies of this history. The other work is The Life of our Lord upon the Earth, in its Historical, Chronological, and Geographical Relations, by the Rev. Samuel J. Andrews. (Lond. 1863.) In this unassuming volume the various opinions of the best authorities are brought together, sifted, arranged, compared, and weighed; while the author’s own opinion, though never asserted with arrogance or parade, is always worthy of consideration. Indeed, this work is indispensable to any one who intends a thorough study of the subject, but yet has not access to the authorities themselves, or has not leisure to use them. And so extensive is the literature of the mere external aspects of this Life, that it will still be but a few who can dispense with such a handbook as this. The accuracy of his references, and impartiality of his citations, as well as the fairness and candour of his own judgments, inspire us with confidence in the author. Such being, so far as we know, a fair statement of what has transpired since the original publication of the work of Dr Lange, and which might be thought to diminish its value, it is obvious that this work has neither been superseded nor found a rival. And, regarding these volumes herewith issued, it is not too much courtesy to ask from the reader that he judge considerately a work which enters into all the difficulties of so wide and delicate a subject, and which emerges, as this does, from the turmoil of German opinion. There are but few occasions on which even this consideration will be required, and we believe that every candid reader will instinctively and spontaneously give it. For the genius of the author and the unmistakable direction of his theology, his love of truth and openness to conviction, disarm criticism, and turn assailants into apologists, if not into partisans. The author was himself well aware of the difficult nature of the task he had undertaken, and at the appearance of the second volume of his work he made a statement which it is proper should be before the reader:-‘The author has had to enter into difficulties which have been left more or less unsolved in theological discussions. The result of his labours on these subjects he commits with confidence to the liberal and evangelical theologians of the present and the future. They who, confusing the general Church point of view with their own respective assumptions, formed as they are within the Church, meet with aught that seems strange to them in the discussion of single points, will find it a reasonable request, that they would, before passing a decided judgment, not only carefully weigh the reasons given by the author, but also compare his view with the views prevailing among Church theologians on the points in question. How very easily erroneous judgments may be precipitately formed, has often been proved. Before the bar of truth such judgments would be unimportant but though I do not, for this reason, fear them on my own account, I would yet, as far as possible, prevent others forming them, from an apprehension of the curse resting upon all error. This cannot, however, apply to those whom a gloomy fanaticism induces to be always hunting for suspicious passages. They will find much which may lie open to the attacks of their uncalled-for decisions.’ There are some branches of Theology which, as the cautious Nitzsch says, ‘are yet young and tender’-some questions on which the Church has not pronounced; and on these the author will not be found to hold invariably the same views which are currently received in this country. There is, e.g., the old question whether Christ would have come in the flesh, if Adam had not sinned? whether Christ is necessary for the perfection as well as for the redemption of humanity? This is a question which, so far as the voice of the Church goes, may be answered either affirmatively or negatively. It is a question which must be answered not so much by direct statements of Scripture, as by its connection with other and already answered questions. It would probably have been answered in the negative by the majority of our own theologians, and by the systematic divines of the seventeenth century. But the vast majority of German theologians have declared for the affirmative; Müller and Thomasius being almost solitary exceptions. It may be significant, that the theologians who have habitually treated the doctrines of grace, and from them reasoned to the person of Christ, have maintained the negative to this question; while those who have made the person of Christ their first and main study, and only from it inferred the other doctrines, have adopted the affirmative. However, it will not be thought surprising that, in the following volumes, considerable use should be made of the position, that apart from sin and the purpose of redemption, Christ would have come in the flesh-that the incarnation was required not only for the restoration but for the completion of humanity. This is not the place to urge what may be said on one side or other of the question, nor even to decide whether the question do not lie in a province altogether beyond Theology, and into which only incautious and immoderate speculation intrudes. This is not the place to show how the affirmative answer admits of a somewhat attractive application to some of the cardinal doctrines of our faith, and how many probabilities range themselves in its support; nor, on the other hand, to show that it seems to bring the nature of God unduly near to that of man (thus bordering dangerously on Pantheism), and to make light of that separation between the divine and human which has been brought about by sin. But it seems necessary, in one word, to warn the inexperienced reader, that if the incarnation of Christ were from the first and by the very idea of humanity required, then the humiliation of Christ becomes a different and less grievous humiliation than we are wont to consider it, and the aspect of Christ’s life upon earth in many points altered. But besides these questions, about which there may be private opinions, and which must be decided rather by the general tone of Scripture than by its express statements, rather by their results and bearings upon other doctrines than by their own contents, there are dogmas which it is quite easy to state abstractly, but most difficult to apply to actual cases. It is one thing to state dogmatically the constitution of Christ’s person, another to carry this dogma through the life of Christ, and exhibit the two natures in harmonious exercise. It is one thing to state that the two natures ever concur to the same resulting act, another to single out one particular act and exhibit this concurrence. Now this seems to be the great problem which those have to face who undertake a rigorous treatment of the Gospel history. It has been too much the custom of writers on the life of Christ to satisfy themselves with an occasional statement of the doctrine of His divinity, without attempting to keep the reader face to face with this doctrine throughout the whole history. In Germany the difficulty of exhibiting the perfect divinity of Christ throughout His earthly life has been so strongly felt, that their writers on Christology have revived an old and detrimental heresy, which delivers us from the necessity of attempting to exhibit full and perfect divinity in this period of our Lord’s existence. It is believed by many of their theologians1 that the Logos, in becoming incarnate, divested Himself of some of His attributes-that the ‘emptying’ Himself of which we read in the Apostle Paul, means a self-examination whereby the divinity became as it were asleep in the person of Christ, or absent, or voluntarily incompetent for divine action,-whereby at least He really emptied Himself of the fulness of divine power. This doctrine is but the inevitable result of keeping in the background the divinity of Christ’s person. If the divinity be but the necessary substratum of His person, be an inoperative constituent of His person, then the actual presence of real, complete, active divinity becomes awkward and undesirable. But if the person of our Lord be really and indissolubly of two natures; if in each moment of His earthly life there is present the divine as well as the human nature; if in each act or word of His the divine and human natures are concurrent,-then it must be the task of one who undertakes a life of this person to exhibit the two natures, and not either in separation from the other. Doubtless there is a skill in the Evangelists which no uninspired pen will ever rival, and by which we are made to feel the presence of the divine nature throughout the human life; yet surely it is our duty to endeavour, in our expositions and developments of these inspired records, to maintain the impression which their immediate perusal produces. If they often bring out to view the divinity of our Lord, where also the very feebleness of humanity is conspicuous; if, when they show us a weary and foot-sore wanderer seated by the well in the heat of the day, they make us feel a reverential awe for that weakness, inasmuch as it is the humiliation of a divine person; if, when they show us the man hanging on the cross, faint for thirst, they show us also the divine power to speak forgiveness with His latest breath to the dying sinner by His side; if, when we see human weakness at its depth sinking in death, we hear also the divine proclamation of a willing sacrifice, the ‘It is finished’ of one whose life no man can take away;-then a life of Christ is just in so far imperfect as it effaces from our minds this distinct impression of divinity and humanity acting in the one person. Now it need not be denied, that in these volumes there is room for improvement in respect of this leading problem. The author holds most distinctly and decidedly the doctrine of our Lord’s divinity,-of His personal pre-existence as God the Son. If this doctrine is not always in view where we might expect it, then this is not by any means because the author would thus insinuate that the person contemplated is merely human. There is not the smallest ground for suspicion of this; we almost feel that it is doing him a wrong to make this statement. Yet we are not quite sure that all readers will take up that idea of the Person which the author would desire. We think that he has sometimes ascribed to the humanity what can only be ascribed to divinity. We think that there is visible throughout the work an undue desire to attribute as much as possible to the human faculty of our Lord. Now, of course, it is not at all easy to say what is and what is not competent to human nature. We do not know, except by its exhibition in Christ, what that nature is capable of. It has only once been seen in perfect development and exercise, and that is in the case in question. So that it is often difficult to make any valid objection to one who asserts of this or that action in the life of our Lord, that it is simply human. It may be an action which demanded far more than ordinary human faculty, and yet may possibly be within the range of perfect human faculty. It is impossible to produce from human history any similar exercise of power or wisdom; and yet this being the culminating point of human history, we expect here to find unrivalled human action. In short, we are to beware of confounding perfect humanity with divinity, and, in the life of Christ, of ascribing to His divine power what ought to be attributed to His perfect human nature. But there is no necessity that we should pronounce upon every action whether it be competent to human nature or no. We are not to expect to go through the life of Christ, saying, This His humanity does, and this again His divinity. Both human and divine acts are competent to this person; and though now it is a human and again a divine act which He does, though now He forgives sin and again sleeps through weariness, His humanity and divinity are alike and together engaged in each. But sometimes it is apparent that such and such an act of His is divine, and there we can say, This person is not merely human; and sometimes it is apparent that the action is human, and there we can say, This person is not merely divine. So that there are two positions which must regulate our conception of any single action of this life. First, Every act in the life of Christ is a divine as well as a human act. The divine nature of Christ is not only present, as a spectator or sleeping partner of the human, but is energetic in every act. Especially is this true of some of those actions which are most conspicuously, and to some beholders exclusively, human. It is true of His dying. This is an act, it is shortly said, which God cannot perform. But what was this dying? It was the separation of the human body and soul of our Lord. And this God the Son did perform. He offered Himself through the Spirit. The divine nature did not die; but the dying here in question was the act of a divine person, was an act by, in, and on a divine person. If not, then this dying was little to us. If there was here a retirement of divinity that this human act might be performed; if there was a self-depotentiation of the Logos that men might work their will with the humanity, then this was not the sacrifice sufficient for our atonement. We must lay aside our natural expectation, that wherever God is, the utterance of His presence will be loud, His glory manifest, His acts appalling and stupendous. We must learn to see God stooping to lift the little children, veiling His glory in the compassionate and wistful look of a brother, that the diseased might come to the touch of His hand, and the sinner listen to His word of forgiveness; leaving the place of His glory empty, that He might follow and recover the abandoned; becoming flesh, that He might taste death for every man. On the one hand, the humanity of Christ must not be regarded as impersonal, as a thing used by God, as a collection of passive, unwilling faculties, but as fully equipped humanity,-not indeed existing as a person outside of the divinity, but neither interrupted by the divinity in the free exercise of any human faculty, nor prevented in any human weakness. And, on the other hand, the divinity must be regarded as complete and perfect divinity, not divested of any divine power by its union with the human nature, not at the incarnation laying aside nor emptying itself of any of those divine attributes which it was the very purpose of the incarnation to manifest and glorify, not in respect of any divine attribute ‘ceasing to be what He previously was’ by becoming what He previously was not. The second position is this: every divine operation in the life of Christ was immediately the operation of the Spirit. This is a simple corollary from the established theological truth, that every operation of God on things external is through the Spirit. Whatever, then, the divinity of Christ performed after His human birth, was the result of the sending forth of the Spirit from the Son dwelling in the person of our Lord. There is not merely an influence of the Holy Ghost on Jesus, a mere man, so that the miracles are performed in no sense by the divine nature in Christ, but by powers conferred from without. There is the Holy Ghost in His fulness residing in this Person, so that without this person there proceeds no power from divinity to any created thing. And it is just this which distinguishes the miracles of Christ from the miracles of a mere man; the latter being performed by virtue of a divine power which only for the time is communicated to the person, the former being the forth-putting of a power of which this Person is the proper residence. And yet the miracles are given to Him by the Father to do, and are in a sense ‘not His own works.’ For as in His whole mission the Son is the Sent of the Father fulfilling His will, so the works which He does are the Father’s works. And this both because He Himself is the Father’s commissioner on earth, and because without the Father the Spirit, by whose working this commission is discharged, is not given. So that the distinctive agency by which the miracles of our Lord were wrought was the incarnate Person dwelling in union with the Father, and possessing the fulness of the Spirit; was not the divinity of Christ without the Spirit, but was not the Spirit without the divinity. We are therefore under no necessity to inquire (as the author unduly does) whether or no the miracles may not be brought a little nearer human nature. They are no doubt performed through the human nature, but so is every divine act in the life of our Lord. We see the human nature active in all its faculties throughout the miracle; but we are not on that account to suppose that the miracle is explicable on human principles and laws, for all the divine acts of Christ are human acts also,-the acts of a Person in whom the Spirit of God is harmoniously co-operating with and possessing every human faculty. That we see ordinary and human means made use of in some of the miracles; that we see inquiry as to the nature of the disease, and delay in its cure; that we see many traces of human procedure; that we see humanity doing its utmost in these miracles;-all this is assuredly no reason for our seeking to ascribe to the human nature more than the most ascertained science would warrant, because in the whole life of Christ we are prepared to see the highest manifestations of divinity in juxtaposition with ordinary human action. To say that, in this case or that, the divine nature of our Lord is not manifestly exercised in distinction from the human, is only to say that here you have an instance of what must be everywhere expected in His life. And when a demand is made or a longing betrayed, that in the miracles the divine nature be exhibited without the intervention of the Spirit; or when, as a result or accompaniment of this, there is manifested a tendency to ascribe as much as possible to the human nature influenced by the Spirit, without the ascription of this very influence of the Spirit to the divine nature resident in Christ,-then there is not only a misconception of miracle, but a misconception of the Person of our Lord. It has been thought better to make these general statements by way of preface, than to adopt the somewhat invidious expedient of interrupting the course of the author’s argument by interjectional comments. On the one hand, we have considered it unjust to an author to use for the refutation of his views the very pages which were intended to advance them; and, on the other hand, we have presumed that it would not be very interesting to the public to be informed of every instance in which the private opinion of the editor might differ from that of the author. This applies especially to the section on Miracles. No attempt has been made to put the reader in possession of a theory of miracles which might be thought more adequately to satisfy the requirements of the Gospel narratives. This would evidently have required a much larger space, and much stronger claims on the attention of the reader, than our connection with this work would allow us to assume. Where, however, any point seemed to admit of being treated in the narrow limits of a foot-note, we have used some liberty with the author, always in a respectful spirit, though not always finding room for the forms of polite deference; and where an opinion opposed to the author’s seems to have been treated with less consideration than it merits, either intrinsically or by reason of the consideration due to its advocates, we have not scrupled to produce and support such opinion. But throughout we have felt this business of annotating a delicate one, and have not altogether regretted that the time allotted for the task prevented a more frequent and substantial interference with the writings of one whose statements it is almost equally difficult to supplement and unsafe to contradict. Care has been taken to render the work as available as possible to the English reader. In the case of those books referred to by the author, which have been translated into our own language, the references have been made to the translations. Where the works have not been translated, the German titles have been left as in the original, for distinction’s sake. A full and carefully compiled index will be given in the last volume. We sincerely wish that some abler, steadier hand could have been employed to launch these volumes, for now more than ever do we understand the grandeur of their subject and the paramount importance of its accurate apprehension; but we trust that those who most distinctly and painfully see the defects of our share in the work, will not the less earnestly desire and pray that it may diffuse juster conceptions of the Person and work of our Redeemer, and may beget an interest in His earthly life which may be the beginning of eternal fellowship with Him in the life everlasting; that those even who come but to touch the hem of His garment, to observe His movements, to speculate on His miracles, to consider the development of His character, to retire for a little from the glare and hurry of our day into the fresh and calm morning when the world awoke at the touch of its Lord,-that even these may be drawn to follow Him, and may pass from the first confession of Peter, ‘Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God,’ to the last, ‘Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee.’ THE EDITOR. Edinburgh, March 1864. AUTHOR’S PREFACE I HAVE for many years cherished a secret inclination to attempt a delineation of the life of Jesus. It is to my present official situation, however, that I am indebted for leisure and opportunity to realize this idea. I think it necessary to state this, for the sake of preventing erroneous constructions, and especially such as might attribute the polemics of my work rather to my external relations than to my internal convictions. The fact that multitudinous works on the life of Jesus have followed each other in a succession which at present seems endless, has not availed to turn me from my purpose. The conviction that I also am called upon to promote the knowledge of this great subject, is accompanied by a good conscience, and forbids all false and conventional apologies, and only allows me to offer them for my defective fulfilment of a work entrusted to me. It seems to me, moreover, that there can be no reason for any uneasiness at the appearance of so many works on the life of Jesus. The fact that, even by professional and official theologians, direct and repeated insult has of late been done to the Gospel history, the pride and boast of Christendom, and that the attempt has been made to form this insulting theology into a distinct school, which shall institute a new treatment of the Gospels, has evoked this phenomenon. The various ‘Lives of Jesus’ of the better sort form a new theological consecration, which we may hope is not yet concluded. The old custom, however, of connecting a consecration with a fair, applies in this case also; and we must reconcile ourselves to the connection of this consecration with the motley fair of a mass of works on the life of Jesus, furnished in answer to external motives. The plan which is to guide the work begun in this volume bears reference to the foundation, the peculiar characteristics, and the development of the evangelical history, and hence to its root, its stem, and its branches. With respect to the foundation of the Gospel history, the attempt has been made, in the present Book, to furnish a clear representation of two of its essential relations: its relation, on the one hand, to the ideal and its multiform phenomena, and on the other, to criticism. In the second Book follows a continuous and synoptic exhibition of the life of Jesus. In this I hope to give distinct prominence to the chief particulars of the articulation by which the four Gospels are united into one actual history. In the third and last Book, I propose to sketch the life of Jesus in its broader features, according to that development of its infinite richness which is presented by the peculiar views of each separate Gospel. In this work, the assumption (which is still too widely prevalent) that the essential Gospel history is injured, and has become a spoilt joint history, will be emphatically opposed. The prejudice, that the four accounts are the source of a want of unity, will be met by the proof that they rather exhibit the richness of this unity. If the Lord give me health and strength, the execution of the work shall not be delayed. The relation of the Gospel history to that criticism which is antagonistic to it, is already happily and ecclesiastically decided. It is, however, the task of Theology to explain the same scientifically; and the author will feel happy if he shall in any wise have contributed to its accomplishment. It may here, however, be once for all remarked, that too sharp a distinction cannot be made between criticism in a Christian sense, and the Antichristian nuisance which now assumes that name. Christianity is, in its absolute trustworthiness and infinite depth of spiritual light and vigour, identical with true criticism. Never let us attribute to a sincere and candid testing of the Gospels, and of Holy Scripture in general, the evils appertaining to criticism falsely so called. Even the most certain facts of faith are not, in the fullest sense, our own possession, till the sharpest, most vigilant, and most practised spiritual intellect has freely admitted and appropriated them. If man is to be fully blessed, his understanding, no less than his other powers, must be fully satisfied. This pure interest has, in any case, less to do with those highly partial dialectics which would now obtrude upon it as ‘Criticism,’ than William Tell with John the Parricide; for it is the interest of ‘Criticism’ of this kind always to sever the ideal as widely as possible from the real. Hence arose the canon, that if any narrative of the Gospels shows a gleam of ideality, or betrays any symbolical light, its historical nature is doubtful. This monstrous error, followed out to its results, denies Christianity itself. For what is Christianity but the announcement of the Incarnate Word, and the glorification of the historical Christ in the light of the Spirit? This error, however, in its milder forms, has been widely propagated. It has beguiled even pious and sincere critics, such as Schleiermacher and others. When Schleiermacher, e.g., remarks (on the writings of Luke, p. 47), in contesting the historical character of the narrative of the visit of the magi, ‘Has it not, in its deepest foundations, a character wholly symbolical?’ &c.-his remark is quite in accordance with this canon. It is the very thing we demand of the primitive facts of Christianity, that they should have a wholly symbolical character, that the universe should be mirrored in them, and that not only in their deepest foundations, as if this crystal were still obscured by its crust of dull ore. Thus Von Ammon, too, lays down the rule (die Gesch, des Lebens Jesu, vol. i. p. 4): ‘Though even history only attains connection and keeping through the ideal and tendency of the world, yet the too intimate union of the ideal and the real, of the natural and supernatural, is prejudicial to the actuality of events.’ Certainly, it may be answered, the old commonplace reality may, and even must, be prejudiced by the (but not too) intimate union of the ideal and the real, it must at last perish; but this is in order that this ordinary reality, this reality invaded by the illusions of unreality, may not for ever prejudice the ideal in the realization of the true reality. Weisse, in his Evang. Gesch., repeatedly returns to the above-mentioned proposition. ‘The historical revelation of God in the Gospel (it is said, vol. i. p. 231) loses nothing of its holy contents, if a part of these contents, instead of being viewed as direct fact of a kind in which divinity exhibits itself more in jest than in earnest, and carrying on, so to speak, a paradoxical, half poetic, half prosaic jest with its own sublimest work, is rather recognised as the genial and intellectual work, in which the group of men to whom the divine revelation of Christianity was first addressed, preserved a productive creative consciousness of that Divine Spirit which descended among them, and of the mode of His agency. It is such a consciousness which has found its thoroughly fitting expression in the sacred legend.’ Here, then, the productive creative consciousness of a group of men is to surpass the productivity of the Spirit which descended among them, so that the revelation of the Logos is again overgrown by a new mythology. If Weisse had duly estimated ‘the paradoxical, half poetic, half prosaic game’ of divinity in the Gospel history as the manifestation of God,-a manifestation, on one side wholly ideal, on the other wholly actual, and therefore specifically Christian,-his writings would not have furnished so many germs, which, growing in rank luxuriance in the works of Bruno Bauer, have shot up under the assumption, consistently developed by the latter, that the creative consciousness of the group of men to whom the revelation was at first addressed produced the whole work of the Gospels. In Strauss and Bruno Bauer this severance between the ideal and reality, so far as the latter is to be described in its full force as individual reality, appears in the form of a well-defined principle. Strauss will not allow that the ideal was in Christ also the historical (vol. ii. p. 690), though the divine consciousness is said to have been in absolute force in Him (p. 689). It cannot, indeed, be understood how the absolute force of divine consciousness should remain behind the representation of the ideally historical, unless it had to contend with the inflexible material of an obscure primitive substance, in which case the ‘absolute’ force is mere word. At length Bruno Bauer found the matter of reality so obstinate, that he found it most convenient to view the Gospel history as originating in the vacant space of the fixed idea of the Evangelists, instead of suffering it to struggle in that swamp of Ahriman, which reality seemed to him to form. ‘The author,’ says he in his Kritik der Evang. Gesch., &c., vol. i. p. 57, speaking of the presentation of Jesus in the temple-‘yes, the author has been at work here. Reality does not manage matters as easily as he does. Reality does not present the appearance of being a work of art, in which, whether in a picture or on the stage, all that is forcible is artistically arranged, so as to suit the spectators and its own component parts; it interposes a dull and scarcely penetrable mass-it interposes years and conflicts with the refractory material of the intellectual public, between its heroes and those with whom they stand in historical connection,’ &c. ‘Criticism,’ it is said, p. 59, ‘is constrained to point out the true historical reality of the ideal, in opposition to the nullity of the supposed facts.’ Thus, however, the reality of the ideal remains, though contrasted in a shadowy manner to the nullity of the facts. Criticism, however, is progressive; for in vol. iii. p. 311, it is said, ‘If we so view the Gospels as to overlook their mutual contradictions, i.e., if we abstract from their confused contents a general image, as simple, unprejudiced faith is wont to do, we shall be in the highest degree amazed that they could have possibly occupied mankind for the space of eighteen centuries, and indeed have so occupied them that their secret was not discovered. For in not one, not even in the shortest paragraph, are there wanting views which injure, insult, and irritate mankind.’ Here, then, even the ideals which the Gospels contain are condemned as culprits. But the same author informs us, vol. i. p. 82, how the Gospels must have originated. He leads us into the factory of an Evangelist, in which the religious self-consciousness is occupied with the work of creative self-development in the production of a Gospel. How then is this work going on? ‘As religious self-consciousness, it is entirely possessed by its own matter: it cannot live without it, nor without continually producing and stating it; for it possesses therein the experience of its own certainty. But as religious consciousness, it views itself, at the same time, as entirely distinct from its essential matter, and so soon as it has developed, and at the same moment that it develops and exhibits it, this matter becomes to it reality, existing independently, above and beyond itself, as the absolute and its history. That this is said with reference not to the gradual productivity of the Church, but to the literary labour of the Evangelist, is proved by the whole context, and especially by the following remark: ‘Belief in these productions is further secured by the fact, that the incentive to their composition, and the first material used therein, was furnished from without, and even by the belief of the whole Church.’ If the above psychological portraits of certain religious authors were laid before a medical college of our days for their opinion, and the precaution used of naming neither the originals nor the artist, they could scarcely pass any other judgment than that these authors were deranged. The author had already thus depicted the Evangelists, before the decision of the Evangelical Theological Faculty of Prussia had appointed him to his theological office. The critical tendency here pointed out proceeds, then, from a philosophical principle opposed to the perfect union of the actual and the ideal. This tendency has already settled down into the constant practice of suspecting a Gospel fact to be unhistorical, if similar facts occur in the Old Testament. Neither, in this respect, has it been thought sufficient to compare together mere accessory incidents of the Old and New Testaments. When, e.g., in the one, Moses, coming down from the mount, finds the people in the midst of wild amusements, and in the other, Christ, descending from the mount of transfiguration, finds a helpless multitude, perplexed disciples, and in the midst of the sad group the demoniac boy and his afflicted father, this is said to be a similarity which makes the New Testament narrative suspicious. (Bauer, vol. iii. p. 59.) ‘Moses, indeed, when he ascended the mountain, left Aaron and Hur and the seventy elders below, that whoever had any matter might apply to them. So also were the disciples left at the bottom, while the Lord was on the mount, and so was a matter actually brought before them.’ It is well known, too, how the later books of the Old and New Testament, and similarly related phenomena, have been placed in battle array against each other. Such a mode of procedure must, however, be protested against for the sake of the ideal itself. If in proportion as history becomes rich in significance, refers in its accounts of great persons to still greater, alludes in its statements of extraordinary events to the most extraordinary, and, being more and more penetrated by the eternal light, points with increasing plainness to the rising of an eternal sun of reconciliation between the ideal and the actual, it is to be viewed with suspicion, this amounts, however unconscious the organs of such criticism may be of the fact, to a progressive theoretic brutalization of reality;-a process at first confined to its memorials, but, after their destruction, extended to its very self. (See Apokal. xiii.) We now pass from the theoretic to the ethical motives of this criticism. It is evident that many of the assumptions lately made in criticising the Gospels, and the Scriptures in general, can only be explained on the supposition that those who hold them must occupy a doubtful position with relation to the moral sublimity of primitive Christianity and its instruments. If any one were to assert that Schiller, in his Wilhelm Tell, intended to depreciate the Germans in comparison with the Swiss, that Göthe, in his Faust, intended to undervalue German students and citizens, every one would zealously protest against points of view so very subordinate and insufficient. If, moreover, an acute observer were to maintain that he could still perceive in the glowing ruby traces of its material basis, the clay, and that in its ruddy hue he still saw the remains of the red soil, or that in the sparkling diamond he could recognise its primitive parent, the common black charcoal, so acute a natural philosopher would be dismissed with a smile. The canon would be acted on, that in the matured phenomena of a higher grade of existence, the agents of the decidedly surpassed grade can no more appear as factors, or in unbroken masses and forms. It is according to this rule also, that we must judge those critical representations which suppose they have discovered in the fourth Gospel, now a neglect of Peter in comparison with John, now an over-estimation of Andrew; or in the third, a miserable tendency to a compromise between Pauline and Ebionitic Christianity; or in the Acts, an effort to exalt Paul by the juxtaposition of his history with that of Peter. Did not the disputes of the disciples for precedence end with Good Friday? Can we doubt their maintenance of their new point of view, when they could so freely confess their old one to the world, and speak of it as the sinful folly of a former time? Could they have again so pitiably sunk from the sublime height of suffering and triumphing with Christ? Is it not rather this over-refined criticism, which insists on seeing the red clay in the ruby, which must be designated as deeply degenerated-as fallen from the heights of Christian theology, which believes in the article of the Holy Ghost in the Church, to the point of view of ‘Kabale und Liebe,’ to a condition in which it discovers even in the Gospels the well-known fruits of literary intrigue, because it seeks everywhere only its own flesh and blood? Hence arises the miserable assumption, which seems to have almost formed itself into a school, that primitive Christianity was radically an Ebionite, and therefore a mutilated Christianity; and that it was not till afterwards that a pure catholic Christianity cast off this mutilating element. It cannot be denied that Ebionite elements existed as accidental, suppressed, restrained principles in many members of the pentecostal Church. But if even the fundamental principles of this Church had been attacked by this Ebionitish nightmare, we should then obtain an image of a redeeming, world-moving fact, which had itself entered the world crippled and needing redemption. But primitive Christianity passes by such observations in its pure New Testament purity, and it is the task of true criticism to get rid of combinations which transform into moral caricatures the glorious forms of the Gospel narrative. It is in the nature of things that the methods of spurious criticism should correspond with its principles. We have said what seemed most necessary in this respect in the body of the work, and have also adduced proofs; while for the more detailed corroboration of our assertions we have referred to the best known works on this subject. As, however, it might seem to many but reasonable that more copious proofs should be adduced, we here cite some which are met with in the works of Strauss and Bruno Bauer, contrasting the actual facts with the treatment they have experienced at the hands of the above-named writers. Papias, one of the Fathers, expresses himself in the following manner concerning a Gospel of Matthew: ‘Matthew wrote λόγια (a Gospel writing) in the Hebrew language. And this every one explained (or translated) as best he could.’ Thus Papias refers (1) to a Hebrew Gospel of Matthew; (2) to efforts at explanation, or translation of the same, of varying value. This fact is thus treated by Strauss: ‘The Fathers, indeed, referred this testimony expressly to our first Gospel; but there is not only no (it should have been no decided) reference thereto in the words of the apostolic Father, but the apostolical writing of which he speaks cannot be directly (this directly is needless) identical with it, because, according to the evidence of Papias, Matthew wrote ἑβραίδι διαλέκτῳ, while the fact that our Greek Gospel of Matthew is a translation of the original Hebrew, is merely assumed (it ought to have been added, in agreement with the evidence of Papias) by the Fathers.’ The same Papias says of St Mark, that, as companion and interpreter to Peter, he received his Gospel orally from that apostle, and afterwards committed it to writing. The above-named critic says, ‘Our second Gospel cannot have been derived from remembrances of the tradition of Peter, and thus from an original source peculiarly its own, because it is evidently compounded from the first and third, even if only from recollections of these. Here we have (1) the much disputed hypothesis, that St Mark’s Gospel was derived from St Matthew’s and St Luke’s, laid down as an established fact; (2) it is represented as an impossibility that a man’s own remembrances should take the same form in which others had expressed the same experiences. Two wonderful delusions! Again, there is no evidence existing that Polycarp, the disciple of the Apostle John, knew the fourth Gospel, or described it as the work of that apostle. Irenæus, the disciple of Polycarp (who, however, mentions St John as the author of the fourth Gospel), adduces no such evidence. An early statement of the critic is as follows: ‘There is no evidence given by Polycarp, who is said to have known John, not even in what remains of his writings (viz., a single short epistle), that John was the author of this Gospel: even Irenæus, the disciple of Polycarp, cannot appeal to one sentence of his master in favour of its genuineness’ (directly opposed to fact). In a later statement he says, ‘It must excite surprise that Irenæus, who already had to defend John’s authorship of this Gospel against opponents, neither on this, nor any other occasion, &c., appeals in this matter to the most important authority of this apostolic man.’ Would, then, this appeal to his own youthful reminiscences have been a public means of proof? His declaration at least leaves this reminiscence to be inferred. But what if Irenæus, in proof of his own declaration, had said: It is the case, for Polycarp once told me so? Once more, Mary receives the message of the angel that, by the miraculous agency of God, she shall become the mother of the Messiah, and ‘is found with child of the Holy Ghost.’ Joseph learns her condition, probably from herself, though we are not told so; he mistrusts her, and is about to put her away; but the information of an angel gives him the confidence he needed. The critic says, ‘They who insist that Mary did not act in the manner which the Evangelists certainly do not assume (viz., concealing the secret from Joseph), must suppose her to have communicated the angelic message to her betrothed immediately after its reception, and that he gave no credence to her information, and will then have to find some way of clearing the character of Joseph.’ What kind care for the character of Joseph! The critics would certainly have believed the most extraordinary event on the word of the pious Virgin. Joseph did not, which made him a character, and preserved him, by the bye, from the opposite reproof of the critic, that he was without a character. According, however, to the present requirements of the critic, Joseph ought, on the mere assurance of his betrothed, to have met the reproaches of the whole world, and said: The miracle is certain, for Mary herself tells me so! Again, Christ did not, when dealing with the Jews, appeal to His miraculous origin. The fact is easy of explanation. This mystery is conceivable only by those who are initiated into the depths of the Christian faith, and is one which could not be announced to the profane, as being, more than any other, liable to profanation. Our critic says, ‘All his contemporaries esteemed Him a son of Joseph (as indeed in a civil point of view He was), and not seldom (twice at least) was this contemptuously and reproachfully expressed in His presence, and a decided opportunity thus afforded Him of appealing to His miraculous conception.’ That is to say, of declaring: This mystery is true; my mother Mary told me so. Certainly ‘Criticism’ would forthwith have believed Him. According to the Gospel of St Luke, a family relationship existed between Mary and the family of John the Baptist. It might consequently be presumed that John was acquainted with Jesus before the Baptism of the latter. This seems, too, to have been actually the case, since, according to Matthew, the Baptist, on the appearance of Jesus, immediately uttered an exclamation expressive of the deepest reverence. According however, to the fourth Evangelist, the Baptist said, with a retrospect to a time prior to that when the heavenly manifestation at Jesus’ baptism had accredited Him as the Messiah: I knew Him not. The remarks of our critic are as follow: ‘If John were personally acquainted with Jesus, in conformity with Luke’s account of the relationship existing between them, it is impossible that he should not early enough have received the information, how solemnly Jesus had been announced as the Messiah, both before and after His birth; nor could he have subsequently said that he knew nothing of it (I knew Him not!) till he received a sign from heaven, but would have stated that he had not believed the account of the former signs, one of which had actually occurred to himself’ (as he perhaps remembered, in his mother’s womb). That is to say, that unless the Baptist wished to appear as an unbeliever, incredulous even concerning his earliest impressions, in his mother’s womb, he would, in consequence of his youthful reminiscences, have announced with prophetic confidence and authority that Jesus was the Messiah; and if questioned concerning his divine assurance and credentials, have answered: My mother Elisabeth told me so. Thus would criticism have it, assuring us it would have given more credit than believers in the Bible could have done to the assurances of the pious women in this great theocratic vital question, nay, that it would have inconsiderately believed them, and, with an entire misconception of its office, have preached the mystery upon their authority. How sublime, on the contrary, is the conscientiousness of the Baptist when he says, I knew Him not! But after the striking sign from heaven he knows Him. In the kingdom of God affairs are conducted with more diplomatic exactness than most critics imagine. One of the most pointed and sublime of the sayings of Jesus is that recorded by St Luke (ch. 13:33): ‘I must walk to-day, and to-morrow, and the day following; for it cannot be that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem.’ Every unprejudiced reader must at once feel and understand the greatness of this saying. The critic Bruno Bauer makes the remark, ‘Where is the dogma written, that no prophet can perish out of Jerusalem, or what antecedents could lead Jesus to a dogma of this kind?’ If Christ demands of His hearers, at one time, that they should believe, at another, that they should watch and pray, or even that they should fast with anointed face, we are nevertheless convinced that His demands are everywhere identical, because prayer is the expression of faith, and fasting is to be grounded on the heartfelt devotion of faith. The same critic observes, concerning the narrative of Mark 9:14-29, ‘It is certainly a contradiction, when the Lord, in the same breath, requires faith, and fasting, and prayer, as the condition of one and the same work.’ According to Matthew 18:1-5, Jesus places a child in the midst of His disciples to reprove their ambition, and says the words: ‘Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.’ The critic says, in answer to the childish question of the disciples, Jesus takes a child-we should like to know where it came from, since, according to the original narrative, the transaction took place in the house in which Jesus and His disciples were resting after their journey; we should like also to have seen the perplexed face of the poor child, placed in the midst of the disciples, to serve for a lecture to them-and after He had set it in the midst of His disciples-a piece of cake would have pleased it better,-He said, &c.’ ‘We should like to know where it came from!’ ‘A horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!’ As the fugitive despairing king cries out for a horse, so does the critic seem here to be crying out for a child to save the veracity of the Gospel history, which has been committed to his keeping. Or does not the matter rather stand thus: if in this place a child were anywhere to be had, if a child should but have stepped into the midst, the critic is annihilated. We must indeed remark, that all the regular mental activity which, under the name of criticism, has presented so strange and meteor-like an appearance in the province of New Testament theology, ‘has surpassed itself’ in misrepresentations, contemptuous jokes and blasphemies, in the third vol. of Bruno Bauer’s Kritik der evangelischen Geschichte. It were much to be wished that some young theologian, endowed with a sufficient amount of good-humour, would bring out a harmony of the principal modern critics of the Gospels. If the great discrepancies of these writers were collected together, or arranged for contest with each other in only a moderately striking manner, a sad exhibition would be presented. It would be seen that here, as formerly in the camp of the Philistines (1 Samuel 14:20), ‘every man’s sword was against his fellow,’ and there would be ‘a very great discomfiture.’ The scene would, however, be followed by the conviction, that there is in this world nothing more uncertain than a certain ‘knowledge,’ viz., the knowledge of those knowing ones who, as a reviewer in Tholuck’s Anzeiger strikingly remarks, make their inferences with ‘arguments like blackberries.’ It may be hoped that times more propitious for the scientific development of the theological material of the Gospel history will very soon appear, when the produce of decidedly antagonistic criticism may be disposed of in very short archæological foot-notes. Meanwhile, the contest must be carried on, on this field, in spite of the ill-will and disgust of him who wages it. It must not, however, be forgotten, that the first and more formidable leaders of antagonistic criticism have not concerned themselves with mere Gospel pictures alone, but also with the frames in which the older harmonistic theology had enclosed them. The steady, clear, and discerning eye of a connoisseur will not indeed let itself be prejudiced against the tranquil beauty of an old picture by the inappropriateness of its frame; but the frame may, by its contrast of tawdry finery and repulsive dirt, prejudice even against the picture one who bestows upon it a more hasty though candid inspection. Those critics who have misconceived the Gospel, must take it into account that anxiety with respect to the agreement of the evangelical records was already in the house before they so violently assaulted the door, and that the anxiety disappeared in proportion to the violence of their attack. The first unbelief was ecclesiastical official zeal, which forced the letter of the Gospels into harmony, because it had neglected, nay, almost forgotten, their internal unity. The work which I have commenced shall, by God’s help, take its part in the efforts now making to exhibit the internal unity of the Gospel history. The first part is sent forth with a lively feeling of its known and unknown defects. The book, however, certainly stands prepared to be ‘annihilated’ by one party, to be possibly ignored, or even unworthily treated, by another. They who, with the author, recognise the manifestation of eternal life in the centre of humanity, of the world, and of time, or who at least have not suffered the great and simple sense of this eternal life to be perplexed by the phantom-like contest of ancient and modern delusions in our days, will receive the work in a friendly spirit. May it, if in ever so small a measure, contribute to those signs of spring which foretell an approaching vernal season to the Church! THE AUTHOR. Zurich, Nov. 5, 1843. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 12: 02.003. FIRST BOOK ======================================================================== FIRST BOOK THE INTRODUCTION ======================================================================== CHAPTER 13: 02.004. PART I ======================================================================== PART I THE FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS OF THE GOSPEL HISTORY ======================================================================== CHAPTER 14: 02.005. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I the incarnation of god THERE is an eternal relation between God and man. From the human stand-point, which is also the stand-point of the spiritual life, we can form no conception of man without God, nor of God without man. The attempt has indeed often been made to conceive of man without God. But it has always been found necessary to designate that infinite contrast to his nature, that mighty objective power on which he is dependent, by some name. And thus some sort of God has always been given him again-an obscure image of God, indeed, instead of the living God. Perhaps he has been made dependent upon fate, and thus upon a gloomy and inexorable God; or upon nature, and thus upon a dreamy God, a God without freedom; or upon humanity, and thus upon a God full of wants, exposed to danger, and without resources. In any case, it has always been found necessary to give to man another God while seeking to deprive him of his own. And even when unbelief has, as in modern times, advanced to the borders of Atheism, and sought to make man the very ruler of himself and of the universe, it has yet found itself obliged to borrow, or rather to purloin from Faith, the word God. It has committed itself to a logical absurdity, and asserted, God is not God, but man is God; being well aware that the proposition, Man is man! would never be so understood as it must be, if man is to be his own God. A plunder of the disputed belief in God was committed, similar to that which is committed upon the belief in a future life, when this is denied, and the present life exalted. What is a present without a future life? The same as God in man, who is to be everything except God. It is, however, a fact deeply planted in the nature of man, that he cannot be conceived of without God. He loses his human significance so soon as he is viewed independently. He becomes a mythic being, animated at best by a demon, a fantastic monster. The nature of man certainly consists in this, that he is a child of the Spirit, and therefore spiritual; that he has a sense for the universal and the eternal, namely, reason; a standpoint beyond the universal and in presence of the eternal, freedom of will, and a capacity for finding and feeling himself in the universal and the eternal, and the eternal and the whole world in himself; the feeling of love. This capacity is not a mere capacity for the general in humanity. The eye of man hails the eternal Spirit even in Orion. It is not merely a sense for the universal; for in the universal is also ever apparent the variety of the finite, which extends itself by measure and number. The conception of all facilitates the comprehension of number; creation can scarcely be so generally and acutely conceived as when designated by the expression, the world. Reason is rather the capacity of clearly apprehending the eternal Spirit, in which the universal has its foundation from and to eternity, the Spirit which creates and sustains the universal; in a word, God. What is man without God? If his spirit embraces only the sphere of earth, and not also the heaven; if it does not penetrate the heavens, and ascend to that eternal Being in whom time and space are one, or rather in whom they are nothing; if it does not this, what is it but a mere local instinct, like the perceptive powers of brutes? What is man’s righteousness if it is only the revelation of a law which merely holds men together, and if it is not an entrance into that rule of life which pervades all heights and all depths, and is absolutely universal? It is then a civil service, but not a spiritual virtue. And is not the love of man deprived of the greatest part of its glory when he is deprived of his God? Why is a beautiful countenance so mighty to awaken natural love? Because by his countenance man reveals his personality, and in his personality proclaims the Eternal. And why does spiritual love look up with prayer, praise, and adoration towards heaven? Because she would embrace all in which she sees the reflection of the Eternal, who has inspired her, and would also cause everything to vanish before the brightness of His nature. Heaven is the world which stands in the reflection of God, and which vanishes before the majesty of His being. The heavens flee before Him. But if you limit man with his love to earth, if you take from him the ‘enthusiasm’ whereby he loves the enthusiasm of his neighbour, you take from him his humanity. Woe unto him when the human countenance, in its mysterious significance, is no longer lovely in his eyes; when he no longer greets it, in its relation to the Eternal, as the sacred manifestation that he is destined for God! On the other hand, we cannot conceive of God without man. We come to a mature knowledge of God through acquaintance with His attributes. But His attributes express the relations of His nature to reasonable beings, to beings whose existence must, at least by us, be apprehended through the human type of spiritual creatures. God is righteous. How can His righteousness be manifested, but in relation to spiritual beings who are to be its objects? God is love. How can He be love without calling into existence beings worthy of His love, that is, beings of His own nature? But when the deepest of the divine doctrines, the doctrine of the Trinity, is fully developed, it must be acknowledged that God has from eternity cherished His Son in His nature, and that in His Son He has ever beheld and chosen man. Thus also does holy Scripture conceive the nature of God. He is the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob. He has an eternal covenant with His elect. He loved and chose them for ever, before the foundation of the world. They who assert that God might very well have left the world uncreated, obscure the eternity of His love; while intending to exalt His freedom. But they obscure not only His freedom by representing it as absolute and arbitrary, but the eternity of His word, and even His very personality, when they transform the eternal reality of His being into a state of uncertainty, or the contemplation of a bare possibility. We cannot conceive of God without Christ, nor of Christ without man; therefore we cannot form a conception of God without manhood. It lies in the very nature of the love of God that He will not remove from man, and it is equally in the nature of the destiny of man that he cannot remove from God. When the prophets speak of God’s covenant oath which He swore by Himself, that He would bring man again into union with Himself, they express figuratively, but with the most glorious assurance, the truth that the relation of God to man is an eternal one, and that He will never remove from him. He cannot change His nature. But His nature is love, which has fixed upon its object from eternity. His love is as strong as hell and as death. Even when He punishes man, and casts him down into hell, He manifests, by the jealous zeal of His justice, that He will not remove from him. And if the strongest and hardest words be uttered concerning the separation between God and man in his evil nature, if the eternity of punishment be spoken of, what else is said but that the punishments of hell are divine and heavenly? Is then eternity an infinite number of years, or the endlessness of time? Mutilated theological notions have certainly caused an arithmetical to take the place of a religious idea of eternity. But eternity, as a religious idea, is the infinite, the divine, in time itself. Only where God is, is eternity. Hence the eternity of punishment is the consecration of punishment, in which God is present to the lost in holiest concealment. But where He is present, His whole self is there,1 even as love. God never removes from man. But neither can man remove from God. He cannot, even if he would. His conscience is the objective religiousness of his nature, and this becomes his torment in proportion as he, by subjectively blinding his nature, converts it into an irreligious one. In proportion to the dislocation of a limb do we experience pain and utter cries for healing; and thus is it also with man’s spiritual perversion. Man cannot free himself from the eternal relation of his being to the being of God: he cannot put off his moral nature and assume a merely physical nature, nor become a pious animal instead of a pious spirit. If he tries to make himself a mere animal, he becomes an evil demon. As, in the mythical primitive slime, the swine and the serpent grew together into a dragon, so man can neither degenerate into the serpent-like diabolic without falling into animal lusts, nor surrender himself to his animal nature without the serpent-like qualities springing up in full malignity.1 Who ever saw a man part with his religion unharmed? The trust in God which he gives up is changed into positive mistrust, peace into rancour, sound judgment into destructive error, good-will into hatred. The wicked have to do with God as well as the good. They almost talk more about Him, though blasphemously, and their very blasphemies terribly show that they cannot leave God alone. Herein lies the proof of the eternity of religion. The strongest defence of Christianity consists in the fact, that such Christians as would unchristianize themselves become bitterly unchristian and fiercely antichristian. If Christianity were but an incident, a kind of fetish, man could part from it peaceably. But because it is religion, in all its spiritual glory, even the history of its opponents affords the strongest proofs that man cannot remove from God. It is a part, however, of the nature of that love by which God is related to man, and of that religion by which man is related to God, that there should be a perpetual attraction between God and man-an attraction sufficiently powerful to overcome the repulsion whose tendency is to destroy the relation-an attraction whose aim is the establishment of a relation between God and man which should be nothing less than their strictest union, the glorification of God in man and of man in God, the reconciliation through the God-man. The manifestation of this attraction between God and man is celebrated in the history of the elect in the Old Testament God appears as the God of Abraham, making a new covenant with him and with his people. Jacob, the representative of the chosen people, appears as the Israel, the man wrestling with God, to draw Him into his own life. The history of God’s dealings with Israel is the history of a continuous reciprocity of attraction between divinity and humanity terminating in the God-man, Immanuel. In the course of this process God promises His people that He will eternally betroth Himself to, and espouse them (Hosea 2:19-20; Isaiah 25:7). From the people, on the other hand, arises the yearning cry: O that Thou wouldest rend the heavens, that Thou wouldest come down! (Isaiah 64:1). They are but ill acquainted with the import of the Old Testament religion, who see in it merely the contrast of a commanding God on the one hand, and a people yielding a forced obedience on the other.1 This contrast is only the element, the key-note of the Old Testament series; but from the beginning its cause is the free and covenant transactions between Jehovah and the people. God wooed Israel as a bridegroom his bride. A relation of constraint and terror is absolutely out of the question. The history of this great attraction is moreover the revelation of an eternal and fundamental relation between divinity and humanity. The election of Israel is the type and pledge of the election of the world. So Homer sang, first for the Greeks, then for all people. It is time we ceased to see in the covenant God of Israel merely a heathen national God. But how can it be maintained that the attraction outweighs the repulsion? For this reason, that the attraction is essential, it is part of the nature; the repulsion accidental, an excrescence of the nature. The justice of God is the eternal rule and form of His love. Hence it can never abolish His love, but only conceal it, and cause it to assume the appearance of its opposite. God, in His justice, is angry with the sinner, but He does not hate Him.2 His wrath is but the zealous burning of a grieved love, as the storm in nature is a manifestation of the impulse of the air to restore the interrupted balance, or as the catastrophe in history is a manifestation of the zeal of retribution, destroying at a blow the long accumulation of guilt. Therefore mercy rejoiceth against judgment (James 2:13). But the more man perverts his nature, the more does his nature cry out to heaven, in anguish, torment, and dismay, against its perversion. How long can this state of things endure? It can endure eternally, because man is a child of eternity, because he is free. If we say it can only last a hundred, or only a thousand years, we say man is no genuine spirit, he is not really capable of being a demon. But if he cannot be for ever a wanderer from God, neither can he be for ever united to Him; for the possibility of His eternal happiness is involved in the possibility of his eternal misery. This possibility is the outer circle, in which the love of God, almighty love, strives with the lost child of a divine race. Thousands rush into its embrace at the first glance of its countenance. Daily does it celebrate victories, progressively greater and more universal. The slight preponderance of the attraction between divinity and humanity over the repulsion, becomes ever more and more apparent. But the end is their union: God purposes to unite Himself completely with humanity, and to develop in it the fulness of His nature, because He has made it the organ of His manifestation, and impressed His own nature upon it; because He stands to it in the relationships of the covenant, of spiritual communion, and of love. It is His Sabbath, when He celebrates His manifestation in human hearts. The position which the Mohammedan believes his God to be maintaining-a position of distance from the world-belies the nature of God. He must break through this covering, the world, to communicate Himself to His child. And equally does the separation between God and the world, which the deist interposes by means of a course of natural laws heterogeneous to the religious spirit, contradict the divine nature; these restraints also must fall. And finally, when the priesthood holds up the Catholic Church as an invisible medium between God and the Christian people, this is also contrary to the nature of His grace, which chooses to be free for the hearts, and in the hearts of men. It is not till God manifests in the Church herself His own nature, His Spirit, and not merely the reflection or terror of His nature in constrained fear and worship-till the Church, therefore, through the glory of His Spirit, testifies, as the priestly bride, of His presence in her midst,-it is not till then, that the attraction in which God offers Himself to man has attained its full purpose. Man, indeed, may long err and stray from God. He may often pause and decline on his way towards Him. But he does not reach his destination, nor obtain rest, till he has attained to the life of the spirit, in God. We must not be deceived by the strongest, nor even by the most dazzling appearance, in which the constrained religionist (he who is bound to the external temple, to the external sign, to the priest, by natural piety) seems to rest and to worship. A people out of which the priests are taken, cannot, as a laity, have attained its end. A people out of which the theologians are taken, cannot finally rest in undeveloped, unproved, and constrained piety. A people, finally, from which Christ descends according to the flesh, cannot celebrate the festival of its perfection, till it has attained the essential freedom and holiness of the priestly and kingly spirit of Christ. And even should it slumber for a thousand years on the path to its final destiny, it will, it must awaken. The drawing of Christ’s Spirit will leave it no rest. Man has not arrived at his destined end till he knows himself to be entirely apprehended by God, and God to be fully apprehended by his inner nature-till he knows even as he is known (1 Corinthians 13:12). The life at once divine and human, however, which was to proceed from the union of God with man, could, from its very nature, be perfected only in the most exalted individuality standing in mutual action with the highest universality. God never communicates Himself to mankind simply in its universality. The communication of eternal life, or of the Spirit of God, presupposes a divine race, raised in its inner nature above the relations of time and nature-a race of eternal individualities, of imperishable personalities. The argument employed by Christ against the Sadducees, to prove to them from the law the doctrine of immortality, is in fact the most striking one which can be found. God calls Himself the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; consequently they live eternally, for God is not a God of the dead, but of the living (Luke 20:37). The life of the Spirit of God, then, cannot so be given to humanity as that it should be received by the species only, and not by the individual. For this life does not begin in man till his elevation above the mere life of the species is manifested in the sphere of individual and personal life.1 God communicates His life to man by entrusting it first of all to the elect, to the most susceptible, the deepest, the most faithful individuals. They, however, do not come to God as strangers: He purposes, He loves, and sends them; therefore they appear in the world. In every elect man there is a threefold relation: first, he appears wholly as a being beloved of God; secondly, as a messenger of God, the instrument of a divine blessing to the world; thirdly, as a central point in humanity, enclosing and embracing as many men as his powers and his mission can reach. Thus we see God enter into communion with universal human life by means of individual life. But will He not proceed from the elect to the more elect in His manifestation of Himself, till the most elect appears? Must not the manifestation of the divine purpose, the Beloved of God, at length appear, in whom the whole counsel of His love towards man shall be disclosed? Once, in the fulness of time, the man does appear who, as the well-beloved of God, forms the centre of the community. Thus is He the One, in the sight of God, by reason of the reality which God hath given Him, in that He hath bestowed upon Him the fulness of His gifts and of His Spirit, that He may communicate them to man. The beloved of God is, however, one with this gift; and hence He is all agency-an agency which penetrates to the very foundation of humanity, and embraces its circumference. Thus is He the very image of God, His manifestation in the flesh. But for the same reason He is also the Son of man. Man turned with yearning towards God, as He turned with blessing towards him. Man’s eye met God’s eye. The sighs of humanity pleaded with the Spirit of God. His chosen ones were human saints; His manifestations were made before human faces; His victories were the sufferings of joyful martyrs. Renowned and holy men of God appeared and prepared His way; but in the long series there was none without spot and blameless. In each, the old schism between the flesh and the spirit was alive, in each there was organic imperfection; in none was there the whole depth of the race, the purity of its origin, the maturity of its aspirations,-till the last descendant of Jesse, the last in the series of the prophets, appeared. On Him was bestowed the anointing with the eternal fulness of God, for He was the God-man. In Him the race of man attained the individual end of its development, its depth, its unity, its approval in the sight of God. By the formation of the divine-human life in the race, its future was prepared; but it was only by the appearance of the matured divine-human life that it could be bestowed upon mankind in general. Yes, He must first be perfected by the completion of His work and destiny, before the Spirit of God could come upon man as the Holy Spirit. For not till this completion was the sin of the world atoned for, outweighed, and abolished by an infinitely perfect righteousness; the sinful nature of man consumed to its very core, and transformed by the Spirit of God; and an agency thus created, which might reach to and change humanity to its foundations, and fill it to the utmost limits of its circumference. Humanity had now, in so far as it was one with Christ, its praise of God in its longing after the righteousness of God, and its Redeemer in Him, according to the whole difference existing between His life and its own. In this glory and redemption of mankind which was manifested in Christ, however, the heart and nature of God Himself were most intimately disclosed to the world-the Son of man is the Son of God. He who was certified as the Holy One in the midst of time, is the chosen One from the depths of eternity. His life is the manifestation of the deep things of God and the deep things of men, in the manifestation of the deep things of His divine-human heart. It is the manifestation of the eternal personality. notes 1. We cannot conceive of man without God.-The atheist is ever employed in destroying a feigned and gloomy divinity while denying the true God, who, as the Eternal Spirit, is love. The materialist believes in a dark Ahrimanes who has swallowed up Ormuzd. The naturalist makes of the confluence of forces a holy Ganges, which he worships, and in which the personal Being, engulphed and drowned, rushes past him, till he himself plunges into the dark and sacred stream. Feuerbach, in his work Das Wesen des Christenthums, lays down the proposition: ‘Man’s knowledge of God is man’s knowledge of himself. God, as God, is only an object of thought. God is the manifested inner nature, the expressed self of man. So far as thy nature, so far as thine absolute self-consciousness extends, so far thou art God.’ If the idolaters of man desire to be consistent, they must renounce the word God. They must manage to make the word Man produce the same effect, in their circle, as the word God does in the religious sphere. The atheistic anthropology might be expressed somewhat in this fashion: 1. Universal man, the unlimited (called God by believers in God). 2. The individual man, the limited. 3. The man-man, or the unlimited-limited, who leads men to rush with unlimited limitation against the limits of their nature, that, breaking through them into limited illimitability or unlimited limitation, they may keep the festival of their twofold humanity. This would be about the manner in which they might express themselves if they confined themselves to their own materials, and did not borrow from us the word God and all that is involved in it. In any case there is an entirely new logic if divinity is to be denied, in order to ascribe it to Man 1:12. We cannot conceive of God without man.-Holy Scripture is from the beginning raised above Deism, and above the deistic philosophy which seeks to honour the freedom of God by giving it an indeterminate exercise over a field of infinite possibility. Scripture knows that God is love, and that in love, freedom and necessity are one. If God, according to Scripture, made man in His own image, He bestowed upon him also the reflection of His own eternity, and the testimony that He had eternally cherished him in His Spirit. When, according to the prophets, He swore by Himself that He would effect the redemption of man, or announced to the believer, ‘I have loved thee with an everlasting love,’ these words contain plain expressions of the eternal Trinity of the Godhead, and testimony to the election of man. Does not the oath of God denote Him as self-determined in eternal determination? Does not the love of God, set upon its object from all eternity, raise that object as on eagles’ wings above the temporal? The New Testament overflows with this acknowledgment, that believers are chosen before the foundation of the world. It is in accordance with the acknowledged spiritual dignity of the Reformed Church, that she has proclaimed this eternity of the love of God, and of the humanity which it chooses and embraces, though she incurs, indeed, the danger of being mistaken by rude conceptions and obscuring representations of this glorious mystery. The Reformed theologians arrived at this doctrine not by the way of Christian speculation, but by that of Scripture exposition; not in opposition to a presupposed absolute temporariness, but to the doctrine of human merit. This doctrine of election is not fundamentally a doctrine of mere election, but a dim intimation of the order in which God appointed the lot of man, whose existence He had already determined: ‘Paulus, quum docet nos in Christo electors fuisse ante mundi creationem (Ephesians 1:4), omnem certe dignitatis nostræ respectum tollit; perinde enim est, acsi diceret, quoniam in universo Adæ semine nihil electione sua dignum reperiebat cœlestis pater, in Christum suum oculos convertisse: ut tanquam ex ejus corpore membra eligeret, quos in vitæ consortium sumturus erat’ (Calv. Inst. L. iii. c. 22, 1). Here men are spoken of as already existing in the sight of the electing God; a proof that Calvin had not reached the whole depth of the biblical doctrine of election.1 Hence it arose, that the doctrine of an election to death was connected with the system: ‘Prædestinationem qua deus alios in spem vitæ adoptat, alios adjudicat æternæ morti, nemo, qui velit pius censeri simpliciter negare audet’ (Ibid. L. iii. c. 21, 5). In any case, however, the mind of the Reformed Church was turned towards those infinitely deep things of God, and the doctrine that God had loved believers from eternity was sedulously inculcated by her. Contrasted with this view of eternity, how infinitely imperfect is the speculation which affirms, ‘Hence time appears as the fate, the necessity (Chronos, or Moloch?) of the spirit, which is incomplete in itself.2 This substance which is the spirit is the process by which it becomes that which it is in itself, and it is as this self-reflecting process that it first becomes in itself truly spirit’ (Hegel, Phänomenologie des Geistes, p. 605). ‘The end, the absolute knowledge, or the spirit knowing himself to be spirit, has for its means the remembrance of spirits, as they are in themselves, and as they accomplish the organization of their kingdom. Their preservation, viewed from the side of their free existence, appearing in the form of contingency, is history, but viewed from the side of their conceived organization, it is the knowledge of manifested knowledge’ (Id. Phänom., p. 612). If in the Christian doctrine of election the spiritual intelligence is present even from the beginning, and lays the foundations of the world, it does not arise here till the end of the world, as the result of obscure developments; if in the former, spirits, as eternal images of the love of God, are elevated from ideal into eternal existence, in the latter they are degraded from obscure and real ‘contingency’ into the unreal world of memory; if in the former, motion served the Eternal Being, in the latter, the Eternal Being is subject to motion: in the first system, the ruler is the eternal God, in the latter, One developing himself out of time, who remembers as a result, like the pale spirit upon ‘The place of skulls,’ that spirits have been. It is, however, a doubtful gain, if, to disencumber the idea of God from the necessity of Hegel’s system, we so define His freedom in the creation of the world, as to make it appear to exclude His eternal love, predestination, and election. J. Stahl, in his Philosophie des Rechts, vol. i. p. 55, notices the more recent system of Schelling in the following manner: ‘Schelling calls his present, and the Christian system, the historical, in opposition to the logical system of recent philosophy. For according to the latter, the world and every individual thing is necessarily included in the nature of God; according to the former, it arose through His voluntary creation.’ He therefore also calls his system ‘the system of liberty,’ and ‘the positive system.’ For it views all things that exist as existing because they exist, because their almighty Author chose that they should, not as existing because they ‘could not but exist.’ The assertion, that it was possible that all that exists might not have existed, opposes the Christian doctrine of election, and also the idea of a God eternally determined by Himself in Himself. If absolute and mere possibility be attributed to Him, He is made uncertain in Himself, and thereby imperfect; if He is contrasted with such a possibility, it appears as a tempter to that eternal love which is one with Himself. In the glory of that love, all the arbitrariness of freedom on the one hand, and all the constraint of necessity on the other, disappear. 3. God never communicates Himself to mankind in its universality.-Both the mystic and the scholastic pantheist, having but a mutilated notion of human individuality and personality, cannot but mistake the true significance of the historic Christ. The first maintains that Christ becomes individual always and merely in the children of the spirit: I am Christ, says he, and thou art Christ: every man of the spirit is to become a Christ. He misconceives the organization of men, their disposition to catholicity, according to which it would be contradictory to reality, and also to truth, if there were a Christ from house to house, if the one Christ did not live in all Christians (compare Andersen’s Das protestantische Dogma von der sichtbaren und unsichtbaren Kirche, p. 56, &c.) The philosophic pantheist, on the contrary, maintains that Christ cannot become individual, but can only appear in the universality of the human species. ‘If reality is ascribed to the idea of the unity of the divine and human natures, is this equivalent to the admission that this unity must once have been actually manifested, as never before nor since, in an individual? This is not the manner in which the ideal is realized: it is not wont to lavish all its fulness in one specimen, and be niggardly towards all others-to express itself perfectly in that one instance, and imperfectly in all remaining instances; it delights rather in pouring out its abundance among a multiplicity of specimens, mutually completing each other, in an alternation of now appearing, and now again disappearing individuals. And is this no true realization of the idea? Would not the idea of the unity of the divine and human natures be a real one in an infinitely higher sense, if I regard the whole human race as its realization, than if I single out a single individual as such a realization? Is not an incarnation of God from eternity a truer one than an incarnation confined to a definite period of time?’1 (Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. ii. 3rd edit. p. 767). This view of humanity, which deludes itself with the notion that the idea must be niggardly towards all others if it lavishes its fulness upon one specimen, can proceed neither from history, nor philosophy, nor poetry, nor a knowledge of human nature; it is one of those hollow phrases of pantheistic abstraction, which overlooks all the differences of personality in mankind, and can only have meaning in a state of things in which the eternal personality of individuality is dishonoured, and individuals are esteemed mere ‘specimens.’ For does not history teach us that an idea can be generous to others, while lavishing more or less, or even its whole fulness, upon one ‘specimen’? Has, then, the idea of criticism been niggardly towards others, while bestowing its especial favour upon a single individual in our own days? Have the characteristics of the ideal been described by philosophy as such that it must be seized and carefully pocketed, like money, in the presence of others? Does poetry teach, does nature teach us thus to estimate the spiritual relations of humanity? But it may be easily proved that a divine-human, or spiritual life, which is not individual, is a contradiction. All the products of nature are supported by one eternal Spirit, and all unitedly proclaim that Spirit; and yet no natural production, as such, is a partaker of the Spirit, or a spiritual being. But man has the Spirit, and it is this which raises him above the rank of a specimen. Each individual has in truth the Spirit as a person, and not merely a portion of the Spirit. But it does not follow that the measure of the Spirit is not various, that the Spirit does not overflow from some chosen instruments for the enrichment of others. Now that which is true of spirit in its general nature, is specially applicable to the Holy Spirit of the divine-human life. If He were not individually present, He would not be present at all. For such is the nature of the Holy Spirit that He exalts man to the honour of a personality, eternally chosen by God, reconciled to Him, filled with Him, and raised far above the feeling of being a mere exemplar of his species. But if He is to appear in individuality, His outpouring will correspond with the nature of its organ. The most glorious organ, the central organ, the head of mankind, corresponding in the eternal organism of humanity to the fulness of the Godhead, will be the medium through which this fulness is poured out upon humanity. With this agree the following writers: J. Schaller, Der historische Christus und die Philosophie, p. 106, &c., though the usual spiritualistic views of the resurrection of Christ are found, p. 130; Conradi, Christus in der Gegenwart, Vergangenheit und Zukunft; Göschel, Beiträge zur spekulativen Philosophie von Gott und vom Gottmenschen, which is rich in suggestive thoughts; the essay of A. Schweizer, über die Dignität des Religionsstifters in Studien und Kritiken, Jahrg. 1834, iii. and iv.1 4. The higher the nature of the life that is to be diffused among men, the more significant is its concentration in individuals; and the more extensive is the circle of influence proceeding from these individuals. Man first appears in the qualities of his merely natural life. In this respect all are equal. All, e.g. were once children. In these qualities, all are for all. Man next appears in the more distinct quality of sexual life. In this respect one half of mankind is for the other. Man further appears in the still greater distinctness of family life, as manifested in races, in which appear the first foundations of the organization of mankind; and here groups are for groups. The development of this great natural organization forms the nations, which exhibit an organism whose delicate adaptations become ever more apparent as the holiness of Christian nations increases. This scale of natural qualities everywhere points to the region of spiritual life. The sphere of imperishable and spiritual life is announced in the universal appearance of individuality. The individual is plainly an organ of the universal, and of the divine administration of the universal, and not only an organ, but a tone, a peculiarity thereof. Every man is the only one of his kind. If he renounces this uniqueness, as, e.g., in a state of slavery, in partisanship, in a monastic order, this always takes place with the conscious or unconscious reservation, that he will reclaim his peculiarity. And, indeed, he must do so; for each man has his peculiar mission. The Father will not receive him into sabbatic rest in His bosom, till he has delivered His message, till, from his special point of view, he has protested against all that is erroneous in the world. What could even an infinite collection of nullities have to testify? Every individual must, indeed, rise to the universality (catholicity) of the kingdom of God; but this he can only truly attain to by the purest development of his own nature. The region of individual life is everywhere pervaded by a gentle breathing of the Spirit, a gale of eternity. But not until the province of individuality is duly estimated as that spiritual kingdom in which each man variously manifests the Spirit, does unity reappear in the midst of diversity, since the Spirit is always one and the same. And thus, as His instruments, all are for all. In this general circle, however, special talents appear. These are the comprehensive, the auspicious forms of various kinds, in which are concentrated the blessings poured out upon the race, or even the curse which desolates it As representative forces, as representative spirits, they draw together the scattered operations of human life, and collect them into a unity, to pour them out again in individual freshness on the mass. In special talents, the general capabilities of races are exhibited in happy forms and peculiar groupings; and these talents, when they answer their appointed end, advance the good of the race. Thus the many are for all. But the men of genius form a still narrower group, and their sphere of operation is greater than that of the men of talent. It is characteristic of their operations that they are, not indeed absolutely, but relatively, of a creative kind. They bring to maturity that which is in process of formation, and introduce something new into the world, a new blessing or a new curse. They make mighty efforts in behalf of their contemporaries. They are in constant danger of being either idolized or persecuted, because the power with which they are filled, flowing from them in wide circles, repels all that is inimical, and moves and shakes to its very depths all that is congenial. But the men of genius also, within their own circle, present a rich variety, and separate themselves into their special departments, though it is of the nature of genius to exhibit a high degree of generality. It is by decided limitation on one side or the other, that talent obtains its appointed power and brilliancy, while genius, as such, is always more or less universal genius. And yet in most, a special kind of power is prominent, pointing out to each his special field. In consequence, however, of this division, there are but few in each field. There are but few great artists, great poets, great philosophers; still fewer great prophets. Many are called, but few are chosen. Thus the few are for all. In the tendency, however, of genius to the universal, we already find the striving after the highest unity. The elect were the prophets of the One Elect. The express image of the Divine Being and of humanity was at some time to appear in one personality, in which the creative forces and principles should solemnize their union, and thus exhibit themselves in a new, a second, a higher man. This One is the concentrated expression of the tendency of all mankind towards the Eternal: therefore, the Son of man. Hence His agency extends to the whole race. Thus the One is for all. From this head, and from His agency, is developed the infinitely rich and marvellous organization of the life of mankind. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 15: 02.006. SECTION II ======================================================================== Section II the personality of man The existence of personality in man is accompanied by individuality. So long as man lives in a savage and brute-like state, he seems to be, more or less, a mere exemplar of his species. It is said to be difficult to distinguish one countenance from another among the wild hordes inhabiting the steppes of Northern Asia. The peculiar nature of man is in this instance still hidden, and he appears merely a savage creature, or, to speak more correctly, a creature who has become savage. And yet these faces, void as they are of expression, recognise each other: the dawning of individuality, at all events, exists. The more, however, man receives the blessing of education, and especially the consecration of religious awakening, the more is individual life developed in him. That infinite singularity becomes apparent, which distinguishes him as a being elevated above the rank of a mere exemplar, and characterizes each man as a hitherto non-existent type of humanity. The certainty of immortality is contained in this singularity. For it is through this that he is a new, a special, a definite purpose of God, an eternal determination of the divine will. With the annihilation of a distinct individuality we should impute a want of determination to God. But the individuality and personality of man are ever mutually developed. It is only because he is an individual that he is a person; and it is only in the infinite definiteness and isolation of his being that infinite generality can appear. It is in the property of individuality that creature existence attains that silvery brightness of spirituality which testifies that the universal, and the voice of God in the universal, can now be resounded by the metal of which it is composed. The sharply defined figure of the crystal is an image of individuality, the sun-light reflected therein an image of personality. The more a man perceives, faithfully preserves, and sincerely develops the peculiarity, the inmost depths of his nature, the more does the fulness of the Spirit, the glory of God, the richness of His world, begin to be manifested in him. Individuality is therefore the eternal form, or even the form of the Eternal. This is the stone against which the prevailing philosophy of the day stumbles and is confounded. She regards the individual as only a limitation of the general. According to her premises, the evil cleaving to substance, the evil of the world, viewed according to Manichean notions, has taken refuge in the form of the spiritual. In her view, all is divine; only the eternal characteristics, the mystic lines which the human countenance forms by its constant expressiveness, these are fatal to her. In her opinion, substance is limited in its divine flow by those lines which form the individual life. It must burst these boundaries and break through their opposition.1 As the boy plucks the flower to get at its scent, as the spiritualist would destroy the letter to find the spirit, so does this last and most subtle Manichean view of nature shatter that eternal form of the spirit, individuality, to advance universal being in its triumphal progress through the ages. Since it makes man originate from a process of nature, he must inevitably sink again into nature. As is the gaining, so is the spending: ‘Light come, light go.’ But because this view lacks the eternal determination of the spirit, it lacks also the Eternal Spirit Himself. That dark obscure substance in a state of constant fermentation, which is neither self-possessing, self-penetrating, nor self-determined, can neither appear in personality, nor form a real individual. Such philosophy is a stranger to the conception of the eternal. In the perfect or divine-human life, the contrast of individuality and personality must be manifested in all its heavenly purity. Here we see a man who is never lost and dispersed in mere creature-hood, who never obliterates the constant characteristics of his being; who ever most distinctly expresses in his spiritual nature the eternal appointment of God. He continues true to himself, and therefore faithful to God. His voice was an echo of that purity which it had by the divine appointment; therefore a call of the Father, an announcement of salvation from God Himself. It was thus that Christ appeared to us. He plainly declared His nature and the mission resulting from it, and stamped the intrinsic value of His nature with an impression of most sacred and faithful distinctness. He asserted His spirituality in the presence of all nature. And what was the result? All nature began to shine with spiritual brightness in the mirror of His spirit; the birds of heaven and the lilies of the field became, through Him, thoughts of God. He contended for, and victoriously maintained, against the whole world, the sanctuary of His divine Sonship; and therefore did the whole world, in its ruin and in its call to blessedness, begin to shine with the light of His love and righteousness. His faithfulness to His individuality was also exhibited in this, that He showed to His Father His whole heart, even its grief, that He did not obliterate this distinct feature of His nature in an enthusiastic heroism, which would have hindered the glorification of the Father in Him. By the solemn earnestness which consecrated the place on which He stood, He transformed the whole world into a sanctuary of God; by the constant energy with which He lived in the present, He transformed all ages; by the manner in which He laid hold of passing events, He consecrated them into symbols of the world’s history. Yes, the glory of the personal life flowing from Him transfigures both earth and heaven. But while it may be said that He attained His personality in the infinite distinctness of His individuality, the converse is equally true, that He found the unchanging constancy of His nature in His continual and entire submission to the Father. It was by plunging into the sun of personality, that the eagle-like glance bestowed upon Him was developed. And this view of the matter is also the more correct one. What He saw the Father do, that did He as the Son; and it was by finding Himself in the bosom of the Father, that He felt and knew Himself to be the Son. In the personality of Christ is manifested the personality of the Father. When it is said, the eternal Being is light in Himself, in Him is no darkness at all, He possesses, He penetrates, He surveys, He wills absolutely,-what is this but to say that He has personality? God is the most decidedly personal being, much more so than man, because He cherishes nature not as a necessity to His spirit, but as a form of manifestation for His spirit. But if personality stands in polar relation to individuality, how can God be personal? Do we then say that God, who is the source of all individual, as well as of all personal life, is not an individual? His personality is the eternal light of His Spirit, in its self-determining agency; its antitheses are those eternal determinations (Bestimmtheiten) which He cherishes in His being, and which are summed up in that one general determination, in that character of His being, in His Son.1 If, then, these determinations appear in time, they are not therefore absolutely temporal. With the nature of Christ, eternity appears in time, because the Spirit of God, which embraces all times, is manifested in Him; and in proportion as He awakens personality in men, does He awaken eternity in them. But the personality of Christ not only manifests the eternal personality of the Father, but also proclaims the produced (werdende) personality of men. For Christ exhibits in His life the destination of humanity, its inmost depths, which are to be absolved, delivered, and perfected through Him. And thus by His appearing there is also proclaimed the Church, in which the Spirit of life is ever elevating that which is perishable to the light of the imperishable, and glorifying nature as well as mankind. His personality is the pledge to His Church of a future, in which, through its development and perfection, all the obscurities of nature, all the dark mysteries of evil, shall be pervaded by the light of their manifested relation to eternity, and sanctified to the service of God. The Eternal Spirit, as the all-ordaining Being, ordaining Himself in all, is the source of all personal life, the personality of the Father, or even the fatherly personality. The same Spirit, as the Being whose existence is determined with infinite delicacy and sharpness, and who in this determinateness is the Being knowing Himself free, the Blessed One, is the reflection of the Father’s glory, the personality of the Son. But the same Spirit, as the Spirit of liberty, bringing back this determinateness of the Son and of His members to the self-determining agency of the Father, through whose presence God is present in His people, so that their life is sunk and lost in His, is the personality of the Holy Ghost, or also the Holy Spirit of personal life, who sanctifies the world, and makes it an offering to God. The special province of the Spirit’s operations is the Church, whose several individualities, notwithstanding their infinite diversity, and even by the organic relations of that diversity, form one organism, and at the same time one great collection of individualities. notes 1. The notions Individuality and Personality express, according to our view, the nature of spirit in a polar relation. Individuality is the point in which spirit comes forth and distinctly manifests itself in nature; personality is the circle by means of which it embraces heaven and earth, and perceives God that it may manifest Him. The mutilation of these notions is connected with all the morbid inclination to abstract generality, to the dark depths of indistinguishable substance, prevalent in these days; and its presence may be traced, like that of a devouring worm, in the principles and tendencies of the new theology. It is evident from the above quotation, that Hegel had not discovered the true notion of an individuality corresponding with personality. Michelet, in his Lectures on the Personality of God, &c., seems for a moment to touch upon the true significance of individuality, p. 84: ‘The true relation of the general and the particular is therefore merely a looking at both sides at once. The particular does but add another definite peculiarity to the contents of the absolutely general, by which peculiarity it is itself distinguishable from other particulars of the same species, just as separate ideas exclude each other through their peculiarities. Particularity is consequently the richest,’ &c. Individuality, however, is not mere particularity, and the general is not so poor as to increase in contents through the particular, as this author thinks. Hence an unsatisfactory conception of individuality is already announced. ‘It is the principle of individuation,-that addition made to generality and speciality,-which forms the great variety, and the distinctive characteristics of individuals. And since the addition is non-essential, all that is great and true in individuals belongs to them by reason of their species.’ The principle of individuation, then, that ‘anonym,’ as Göthe calls it, is here an addition, and again this addition is non-essential. It is evident that this non-essential addition is incapable of constituting a human race at all corresponding to the ideal. On the contrary, it is really the millstone hung round the neck of the subject, to draw it down into the depth of annihilation. ‘The general process of species, therefore, consists in withdrawing from one series of peculiarities to appear in others. Peculiarity is eternal; peculiar beings, on the contrary, disappear.’ Cieszkowsky also seems, in his work Gott und Palingenesie, p. 40, to define incorrectly the relation between individuality and personality, though he maintains the immortality of personality against Michelet. With him individuality is ‘the natural, the indifferent, the co-existent, the inflexible, the incidental, the limited, the most peculiar peculiarity,1-that which not only cleaves to materiality, but also underlies it.’ According to Snellmann, Versuch einer spekulativen Entwickelung der Idee der Persönlichkeit, p. 43, ‘an individual is a being which thus ever excludes another, but even thereby becomes ever another.’ The contrast between the general and the individual being thus designated, in the strongest terms, an unending one, we may well be surprised to find the whole contrast so soon entirely at an end, p. 49: ‘The spirit is not distinguished, as the Ego, from the matter of the consciousness; it is not that it has this matter, but that it is this matter. There is here, then, no distinction between consciousness and self-consciousness, but both are directly one. For the spirit, as pure self-consciousness, as the Ego, which moreover has the matter of the consciousness, is not a definite one, an exclusive individual.’ This indistinguishable identity (and therefore sameness) of consciousness and self-consciousness is, according to p. 242, the idea of personality. This personality is consequently the monotonous spirit, or rather non-spirit, which comes to itself when first in thought, and afterwards temporally, in natural death, it abolishes subjectivity (244). Feuerbach carries on the degradation of the subjective to the perishable to a degree which shows a hatred of it: ‘It is not love which completely fills my spirit; I am leaving room for my unloving nature by thinking of God as a subject, distinct from His attributes. The notion of a personal self-existent Being is anything but identical with the notion of love; it is rather something beyond and without love. Hence it is necessary that I should at one time part with the notion of love, at another, with the notion of the subject’ (Das Wesen des Christenthums, p. 360). Göschel, on the contrary, arrives, by the same premises as Hegel, at the conviction, that it is in the nature of the notion of the Ego, as Ego, as spirit, that the individual Ego is not lost in it, but continues to live and think in it. ‘The Ego, in its distinctness from nature, is just this, it is equal to itself. Ego = Ego. Therefore the death of the Ego in the Ego is a contradictory idea’ (Beiträge zur spekulativen Theologie von Gott und dem Menschen, &c., p. 24). The same author expresses the principle, ‘Nothing so much pertains to personality as individuality, and indeed the individuality of the subject’ (p. 58). ‘The connection is as follows: personality is the highest form of individuality, the pervasive glorification and manifestation of self-existence; on the other hand, subjective individuality, or independence, is the matter and condition of personality.’ Here, then, the polar relation between individuality and personality is expressed. The remarks made by Strauss (Leben Jesu, p. 735) against the Church doctrine of Christ, or of the union of the divine and human natures in Him, fundamentally oppose the true notion of personality in general. He appeals to Schleiermacher, Glaubenslehre, 2, §§ 96-98, where he finds the expression, that the divine and human natures are united in Christ, difficult and barren. Schleiermacher argues specially against the Church doctrine, which receives two wills in Christ, and remarks that, in this case, we must come to a similar decision with respect to the understanding. Strauss seems, fairly enough, to claim for his assertion the arguments of Schleiermacher, according to which there is said to be something absolutely inconceivable in the Church notion of the God-man. Schleiermacher does not give its full significance to the notion of individuality; consequently he uses a christological expression (p. 56) which even Noëtus or Eutyches might have appropriated. ‘The existence of God in the Redeemer is laid down as a primary force from which all agency proceeds, and by which all impulses are connected: what is human, however, only forms the organism for this force, and is related thereto, as being both its receptive and its expositive system.’ But how should this organism of Christ have been able, without a will, to receive and exhibit the will of God? And the same reasoning applies to the understanding. Is the understanding of two men, whose agency is alternately employed, a double one? But as little is it a single one. The understanding and the will, as well as all that is spiritual, all that is personal, bear within themselves the contrast of the objective and the subjective, whose diversity is explained in identity, and their identity in diversity. The misconception of the personality of the individual, exhibits itself in two extremes which, though exhibiting a mortal aversion, are yet intrinsically united. The one extreme is the tendency of Jesuitism, as an emanation of the Manichean and ascetic aversion to the individual and its corporeity, which has obscured the Romish Church. The other extreme is the tendency of Communism, resting upon the Manichean and pantheistic aversion to the personal and its perpetual definite peculiarity. The annihilation of personality is the final aim of both these tendencies. In the first case, the most unconditional obedience to the general of the order, the most colossal sectarianism, is to extinguish all individuality. Lamennais, in his treatise Affaires de Rome, has some excellent remarks on this subject. The Church of Rome exhibits an increasing tendency to establish this principle. Lacordaire expresses himself in the Semeur (No. 23, 1843) in the following manner: ‘Ce que Dieu vous demande, c’est de sacrifier votre conviction flottante, uniquement bassée sur vos passions et vos prejugés à la conviction une, sainte, et perpetuelle de la cité de Dieu; c’est l’abjuration de la cité du monde pour l’adhésion complête et libre à l’autorité religieuse, pour la soumission à l’hierarchie et à l’Église; c’est de vous dire une bonne fois à vous-même: Eh bien c’en est fait, je me donne à une raison souveraine, immuable, plus haute que la mienne; moi, atôme miserable, je m’assieds enfin las et confondu sur ce roi inebranlable, qui a pour appui la main de Dieu, et pour garantie de sa durée, son invariable promesse! Ainsi pénétrés de votre nullité individuelle vous rentrerez dans la vie générale.’ It might be added: dans la grande nullité, qui results d’une telle composition de pures nullités. On this side, man is required to sacrifice his personality to the mere hierarchy, the historical majority; on the other, to the multitude, the momentary majority, without the prospect of receiving it back free and transformed, which is the result of the surrender of the life to God. This sacrifice is demanded, because sectarianism, as such, is a gloomy and demoniacal power, which can only be formed by trampling down individuality, a thick cloud in which the beautiful and separate colours of natural life form but one dingy mixture. How bright, on the contrary, is the glory of the true Church, as displayed in her adornment of sanctified individualities and their varied endowments! From this one fundamental mutilation, there arise, in the courses of the two above-named extremes, a series of mutilations: the mutilation of the rights of property, of marriage, of the State, of the Church. 2. An individual is a creature which cannot suffer the dissolution of its own proper nature by any dissolution of its outward constituents, which no storm of death can strip of the mighty unity formed by its existence. The word persona means, first, the mask worn by an actor, then, the character which he represents, and, lastly, an individual, in his characteristic significance. The word personality cannot certainly be referred immediately to personare, in such a sense as to make it denote how the general resounds through the individual. But when Snellmann (p. 1 of his Collected Works) calls this ingenious explanation, far-fetched and unsatisfactory, he forgets that the voice of the actor resounds from the mask, and the general life, represented by poetry, from the dramatic character; that the meaning of the character, moreover, is to express general life in its mature determinateness. It is, at all events, a characteristic trait of pure personality, that the infinite resounds through it.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 16: 02.007. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III organism in the province of personal human life Humanity has its unity first in its natural type, in the primitive natural man, from whom all derive their life and blood. This unity is the unity of species, but also the unity of destination to a spiritual life, and of the perversion of this destination by the fall. This unity has been converted into a sad uniformity-it is the tragic monotony of the race that in Adam all die. This is the unity which is now esteemed by many the peculiar glory of the human race. But the higher unity of mankind has been manifested in the God-man, who, in the infinitely rich and divine nature in which He appeared as the head of humanity, announced, and by the agency of His Spirit brought to light, its infinite variety, and the unity existing amidst this variety. In Christ all are made alive; and in this life they form that organic community which He so fills and animates with His divine fulness, that they represent the universal Christ. The God-man develops His life in the organism of the divine-human Church, in whose ideality even nature is elevated till at length God becomes all in all. The individuality of each man, which is to be delivered and to come to its maturity and glory through the God-man, is the power, dwelling in its personality, of taking into itself and exhibiting all life. All times, all space, all saints, are present in the heart of the humblest Christian. His memory reaches back to the fall and the creation; his hope extends beyond the close of this world; his inner life has its roots in the centre of time, in the sacred period of Christ’s death and resurrection. The East, whence the Gospel issued, as well as the West, to which it proceeded, is his home. Patriarchs, prophets, and apostles visit him as the familiar friends of his inner life; infinity nestles in his bosom; God Himself comes with His Son, and sups with him; he is an heir of all things. Individuality in its Christian splendour is a diamond whose facets are infinite, that it may receive all the light of infinity. But the personality of the Christian is an individual one. It is in each a personality infinitely unique, new, and utterly differing from every other. This isolation would repel the whole world, if it were not at the same time personality, life in common. It would be a gloomy divinity, if there could be such a one, if it were not rather, an infinitely limited expression of the eternal God. By means of personality the isolated individual is one with all sanctified individuals; but this personality, being individual, is again diverse from them.1 The individual is to represent, in infinite limitation, the infinitely unlimited; in the special ray of a single character, the eternal Sun. He is an Ego, therefore an immortal being; a spiritual note in which all creation resounds, therefore also a personality. But because the man restored to his destination by the God-man is both personal and individual, he is a member of the body to which he belongs, of the head from which his life proceeds. He has his special talent, and with it his special relation to all the other members, his special task, his separate stand-point. He has, too, his special one-sidedness, his relative deficiency of talent, in which respect he needs completion by the fulness of the body, and especially by contrasted and kindred members. And even this very deficiency is but a gift of infinite capacity to receive the fulness of blessing stored up in kindred spirits, the means of union with them, of taking up a definite position in the wondrous frame of the body. When in human life those great individual groups, the nations, oppose and strive against each other, when a constant and painful friction takes place between private individuals, human nature, in this unhappy confusion and self-destruction, seems put to shame by the harmonious association of a flock of antelopes, and by the close ranks of a train of cranes. But even this terrible perversion of its destiny makes it evident that its unity cannot be the uniformity of generic life, the monotony of a collection of exemplars. This continual friction is but the morbid working of the infinite delicacy of its organism, and the loud harshness of the discord testifies to the glory of the lost harmony. This harmony, this bright and heavenly variety in spiritual unity, is apparent in Christ’s kingdom. Peter and John, Thomas and Paul, how different, yet how similar! how clearly do they manifest in their diversity the oneness of the life in Christ and the heavenly richness of this oneness! In the free New Testament Church this is the solution: ‘There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God’ (1 Corinthians 12:4-6). It is then a proof of true Christianity to exhibit eternal unity in variety, and variety in unity; or, in other words, to show individualities in the light of personality, and personalities in the varying hue of individualities. Antichristianity, on the contrary, is matured in such systems as would annihilate individuality, whether they seek, by stifling the singularity of the individual, to exhibit his religious and heavenly generality; or, by rooting out his relation to the Eternal, to cherish his individuality, as a merely animal expression of existence. The former deny the true incarnation of God, the manifestation of the Eternal in the individual; the latter, the divine unction of the individual, his glorification in the Eternal. Both would trample on the honour of the subject, to exhibit the honour of the community; thus, however, constituting a community without honour, without divine life, or glory. They would break in individuals, catalogue spirits, mechanize personalities. They misconceive the ideal groundwork of humanity, in conformity with which the Church, in the midst of the greatest abundance of efforts, of contrasts, of diversities, will yet, by means of its infinitely delicate sympathies and antipathies glorified by love, have but one heart and one soul,-one heart raised above time, one soul hovering over all space, one society embracing both the living and the dead in God, to whom they all live through Christ, who unites all as their life-giving head. Individuals may be compared to the linked rings which form a single chain, or which, partially enclosing each other, exhibit a rich tissue of spheres. There are great individuals who partially enclose less individuals, but they are all enclosed in the greatest, and form but one organic unity. As one great general comprises whole hosts, as one great philosopher represents a whole race of minds, so does Christ comprehend human nature. In Him dwells the fulness, the deep insight of a John, the energetic activity of a Peter, the ideal resoluteness of a Paul,-in short, the deep spiritual wealth of the race. Thus, too, in decision, purity, and power, He is the head of the race. He was able with absolute and heavenly certainty, from moment to moment, to discern between truth and error, to conquer the tempter, and with perfect freedom to do the very thing which the Father willed to do through Him. His purity was a bright mirror, reflecting all characters in their several particulars. The murmurs of enemies, the whispers of friends, resounded through His soul. The terrors of earth could pass through His mind. And so clear was His apprehension, that He was as aware of the world’s judgment as of His own. But in power also He surpasses the whole human race. The power of His fidelity and zeal for God, of His victory over the world, is a lasting influence which is ever working, and must work till it has attained its end, till at His name every knee shall bow to the glory of God the Father. The influence of Christ upon individuals is displayed in their attaching themselves to Him, and conditions the relation in which they stand to Him as His flock. But His influence is a holy one; it respects the freedom of each individual, his destination for God, which is one with the possibility of his condemnation. Hence His Church appears, first of all, in the very-elect and the elect. His influence upon individuals allows of counteraction. He suffers the great contradiction of sinners, and thereby reconciles Himself with them in spite of all their narrowness (this is especially apparent in the relation of the New Testament to New Testament exegesis). But such spirits as follow His leadings, also influence each other. These influences form an infinitely delicate and intricate rhythm: their various relative proportions of fulness, distinctness, brightness, and power give to each a different position with regard to all others. Thus is formed the body of Christ, that eternal organism, animated by the glorious Head, in whom dwelleth all the fulness of God (Ephesians 1:23). In this organism not one tittle of the law passes away; that is to say, every power finds its use and object. Each mind attains its own special experience. Each voice is reckoned upon, and none desires to go beyond the part appointed it, to go beyond its pitch. But each must preserve and manifest its own peculiarity. The honour of God cannot dwell in soundless men, in individuals whose individuality is extinct, whom cowardice has induced to merge themselves in the dark flood of an impersonal substance, or in the opposite but equally dark compound of an enslaved party-nature. The honour of God will dwell in those really honourable ones, those heroes, each of whom has once stood alone beside Christ upon the hill of martyrdom, and has, in spite of all the world, and in order to be faithful to all the world, preserved his most sacred possession for his Lord. These are the children of God, the joint heirs with Christ. Every child of God has received something special, some peculiar characteristic, from his Father. Each is endowed with a power which can concur with the powers of others, but only in Christ. Hence every child of man must be a protestant, must be inwardly independent of every other man, and fall into the arms of Christ, to attain to true catholicity. In each separate Christian, Christ is manifested anew in a special aspect of His divine glory. But formerly, in His personal manifestation, He exhibited in unity that fulness which is now disclosed in diversity, in His Church; and thus with Him eternity enters into time. notes 1. The relations of developed individual life are infinite. How great is the variety exhibited even by a man’s social position! The same individual is at the same time child, husband, father, brother, friend, subject, superior, companion, and fills many other relations too numerous to mention. In each of these several relations his disposition is seen in a different light, or exhibits a different reflection of the surrounding world. Christianity, however, in the perfection of its influence, transforms him into a diamond lighted up by the fulness of God, makes him an heir of God. Are not all men, then, in this respect perfectly equal? They that are perfect are equal in this respect, that they all see God. But as the image of the sun is larger in a lake than in a dewdrop, and as light assumes different hues in different jewels, so does infinite diversity exist among men with respect to their capacities for receiving into themselves the life of God.1 2. There is no absolute absence of talent among men, but only a relative one. That side of the individual on which he appears unendowed, is, when rightly improved, that on which he most ardently unites with the whole community, and devotes himself to it. Thus, even limited talent is not a positive limitation, but rather a passive recipiency which makes the individual such a member of the kingdom of God as stands truly in need of its communion and fellowship. 3. In great national wars, national individualities seem to come into collision, that their several and peculiar natures may be more evident. 4. It is quite natural that any single gift of Christ should assume a different aspect in any one of His witnesses, from that which it does in Himself; for in Him it is modified by the fulness of all gifts. Thus there may seem to be more power in the ministry of John; but if we compare the words of Christ against Pharisaism with those of the Baptist, the surpassing dignity of Christ’s person is perceived even in this particular. All the splendid single virtues in which each of God’s heroes have appeared so great, blend in wondrous harmony in Him; and it is for this very reason that He is the fairest among the children of men, for in His perfect beauty the several and various components disappear in the ideal unity of the whole. On the union of various spiritual gifts in Christ, see Conradi, Christus in der Gegenwart Vergangenheit und Zukunft, p. 97, &c. 5. As there should be a due appreciation of both those forms of life, individuality and personality, as harmonious contrasts mutually needing each other; so should there be an equally just appreciation of those forms of life, Protestantism and Catholicity. The former may be defined as the individuality of the Church in general, the latter as its personality. But both these essential characteristics of the Church are united. Through its personality or Catholicity, the Church must be free from all the exaggerations, adulterations, and spurious admixtures of individuality or Protestantism. But, on the other hand, the riches of its personality must be unfolded in its Protestant individuality-its personality must be delivered from the monkish cowl which would gradually stifle its vitality, and from the dead uniformity thereby produced. Catholicity, without Protestantism, is a mere sect. For it is the nature of a sect to repress individuality, to abolish its peculiar gifts and lasting distinctions, in order to exhibit unity. How free, how vital was the Catholicity of the apostolic Church, in which the Apostle Paul boldly opposed Peter in his error at Antioch, and the Apostle James the degeneracy of Pauline Christians; in which each Church shone distinct from all others in the light of its own peculiar vocation! We are thus taught how firmly true Protestantism will adhere to true unity, and how this unity of the Church not only permits but requires the free development of the individual life of each of her members. The Church of Christ should consequently be thoroughly conscious of her vocation. For she has to deal on one side with a sectarianism which would destroy all individuality, on the other, with a separatism which threatens to exhibit a separate church and society in each individual. This sectarianism appeared in the ecclesiastical form of Jesuitism, in the secular one of Communism. Both these tendencies resemble each other in the effort to exhibit a perfect society by the annihilation of its varying individual components. They may be considered as the most matured productions of sectarianism; the one demanding this false and fearful sacrifice from men to gain the world for heaven, the other to gain heaven for the world. Separatism over against this sectarianism, exhibits an equal measure of error, and indeed in a similarly twofold aspect; first appearing in ecclesiastical pride, as an enemy of all Church organization; then in secular pride, as an opponent of all political order in society. The erratic courses, however, of both these enormous exaggerations lie very near each other. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 17: 02.008. SECTION IV ======================================================================== SECTION IV the fulness of the time Time and space are no gods, for this, if for no other reason, that time intersects space, and space time. We can, however, hardly escape from the idolatry of these powerful forms of the world’s development. It seems most difficult for man to free himself from the notion that time is a god. Even the boldest philosophical systems, unassisted by the spirit of Christianity, in treating of the origin of the gods in time, are for the most part infected with the superstitious assumption that time is itself a god. In this case they do homage to Chronos, who devours his own children, who consumes personalities; to Moloch, to whom children are sacrificed; to the process-god, who destroys individualities in order to become entirely himself. The Grecian was delivered from Chronos by Zeus, who instituted an everlasting Olympus and a transposition of human heroes into the community of the immortal gods. The Hebrew was freed from Moloch by Jehovah, the eternal God, who in His covenant faithfulness is in all ages equal to Himself, and who also elevates His elect to His own eternity. The religious consciousness, however, of many philosophers has not yet attained either to the worship of Jupiter or the service of Jehovah, since they still expose their children by sacrificing the personal immortality of man to a god confounded with time-a god in process of becoming such.1 This idolatry of time is connected with the idolatry of nature. Nature is the slow development of the Spirit. The greatness of natural philosophy consists in its discovery of the gradations of development in the life of nature and of man; but it is its limited nature which is exhibited, when these gradations of development are regarded as periods of origin in the consciousness of God Himself. Nature is confounded with the act of creation, and even regarded as the Creator, when the subsequent is looked upon as the mere product of the antecedent, the higher as the mere birth of the lower. Thus the elements are made to arise from an effort and interworking of the original principles of nature, and the organic products from the elements, and always new and higher formations from those already existing, till at length man appears as the head of animal existence. It is indeed quite justifiable to estimate the origin of spiritual life by such gradual developments. But whenever a higher product is formed from one formerly existing, unless origination is distinguished from existence, its highest quality, i.e., its peculiar idea, its soul, and thus the very principle which is essential to it, must be surreptitiously introduced. The natural philosophy which would construct the higher out of the lower, is full of such surreptions. The elements may be made to weave as long as we please; but if a plant is to be originated, a new idea, and indeed a more concrete and powerful one than that of the elements, must be introduced among them, to assume their material according to its necessities, and to assimilate it into its own life. With each new gradation of life, a new idea actually appears as a new vital principle-an idea certainly announced and prepared for, but not created, by preceding formations. And it is in the very singularity, novelty, and power, by which it is raised above previous formations, that its peculiar nature is apparent.1 We shall thus be obliged to allow that new forms in the ascending scale of life do not make their respective appearances merely as natural products, but as the thoughts and works of God. Nature, indeed, dreams of her future, and foretells it in obscure foreshadowings. But these very dreams of nature are only the result of the thoughts of God already working in her, and about to appear in new creations. Thus nature may be said to form a great number of concentric circles. New circles are ever appearing, each tending towards the centre. These do not, however, proceed from nature, but from a new creation and from eternity. Thus, e.g., within the circle of minerals is the circle of plants: within the circle of plants, that of the brute creation; within this, that of mankind; within the circle of mankind, the circle of the elect. Here, moreover, the subsequent and the higher is not only as primordial as the former and lower; but with respect both to its own importance and the power which appoints it, it does, in the very nature of things, take precedence thereof in the mind of God. What John the Baptist said of Christ, ‘He that cometh after me is preferred before me, for He was before me,’ might equally be said by the plant of the stone, or by the lion of the plant. For the circles gradually tending towards the centre of life ever increase in depth. In each new circle appear the principles for whose sake the former were produced, and which, in their import, include and take up preceding formations. In man appears the principle of all the days of creation. God first formed the earth, and made plants and animals. But man was nevertheless that principle in the mind of God, whose life called all nature into life. Mankind forms another rich system of circles. Still deeper and still more powerful natures appear towards the centre,-the noble, the holy ones, the first in the truest sense, though frequently the last to appear. In the centre appears the God-man. Here is the veriest centre of the circle, here its fulness and depth; the consciousness in which God is one with man; hence the whole depth of Godhead and the whole depth of humanity, and therefore the essential principle, the First-born, the Eternal, in whom God made the world. But because Christ has this significance in the midst of the world’s history, time has its consummation in Him, and eternity appears with Him, and in Him, in the midst of time. Before time was, He was in God as the principle, the root, the motto of the world. Could the world have been conceived as a composition or fundamental idea without a motto? He will be, too, when time is no more, as the head of a new world, in which nature will be glorified in the spirit, the spirit incorporate in nature. Thus Christ is the Alpha and Omega in the development of the world. Hence His appearance in the midst of time has a depth and significance including both the beginning and the end. If we contemplate the æon of the natural world of mankind, His life may be designated as the end of the world. But on this very account His life is equally the beginning of the world, the foundation of a new and eternal world of mankind. As the light, the power, the saving life, the sanctifying Spirit, Christ forms the centre of the world, a centre whose influences penetrate all its depths, till they break forth in brightness on all points of its circumference, till the triumphant banners of the divine-human life float upon all the battlements of creature life. The coming of the Son of man will be like a flash of lightning, shattering the Old World from east to west, and discovering the New World in its spiritual glory. In every normal birth, the head first makes its appearance from the parent’s womb. Therefore was the new, glorified, and spiritual humanity first born into the world in its Head. But the members follow the head. Therefore the external organism of Christ’s Church struggles out of the obscurity of natural life, that it may exhibit in its completeness the phenomenon of the eternal life. Spirit is in its very nature eternal. But life is, in its natural appearance, transitory. Hence man remains for a long time in holy hesitation between eternity and transitoriness, because he is at once a structure of nature and a spiritual being-a union of the two powers. But the Eternal Spirit must elevate his perishing nature into His own element, into the glory of eternal life. Christ fulfilled this appointment. By His victory He has changed this hesitation between time and eternity into the triumph of eternity. And by communicating His Spirit to His people, nature is ennobled and spiritualized in them and by them, and raised by means of His victorious resurrection to the eternal. Hence the Church of Christ has ever had the feeling and expectation of being near to eternity, because, filled with the principle of eternity, she is ever ripening with silent but powerful growth for eternity. It is in the very nature of things, that the whole history of the world, before Christ, should, both in great and small matters, point to Him in the realm of ideal life, as well as work towards Him in the realm of actual life. In all those great and little affairs of the world which have essential reference to the climax of the future, to Christ, tendencies and preludes may be perceived, whose fulfilment is given in Christ. And thus is time fulfilled in Him. We see here both the yearning of humanity after God, that is, its craving after eternity; and the satisfaction of this yearning, namely, the manifestation of God as it gradually dawned upon rough and sinful human nature in the ecstatic visions of patriarchs and prophets, until the time of its full appearance came. The life of Christ is the manifestation of eternity in time, because it is the manifestation of God Himself, because it forms the eternal centre of humanity, discloses and savingly restores the eternal destiny of mankind, and by its power transforms all nature into spirit. Christ came into the world from the Father, and therefore entered time from eternity. But then He left the world again to go to the Father. He will not, however, return alone, but with His people. He will raise them up to share His own exaltation, that is, out of time into eternity, into the spiritual life, whose light shows all times in every moment, all worlds in every place, all hearts in every heart, eternal, tranquil, solemn unity in all the changes of infinite variety. notes 1. When it is settled that time and space are no gods, it is at the same time decided that God is not limited by time and space, and is therefore not a developing (werdender) God. But not only God, but man also, as a being of divine extraction, is raised in his own nature above time and space. Even in his relation to time, man is as ‘the happy one for whom no hour strikes,’ not to mention his being, as a partaker of salvation, a timeless being, whose memory and hope are ever pointing out the flight by means of which he soars, eagle-like, above the temporal. He is in the essence of his nature above time. This characteristic of his inner nature is the natural basis of prophecy. The prophet passes above and beyond the present and the temporal, by means of the divine Spirit. In His light he beholds the future. But man can as little retreat from, as advance beyond the external present, without the co-operation of the Spirit. He cannot even appropriate history without His intervention. The very forms of language express this elevation of man above time. By the words: I was-he places himself in the past; by the words: I shall be-in the future. The Greek Aorist especially expresses this hovering above time. With respect to his relation to space, man is comprised in an eternal tissue stretching into infinity; hence the poetic attraction of the mind towards the blue distance. But in his renewal through the Spirit of God, he is a king, constantly obtaining a new purple from the treasury of the kingdom when the old has grown obsolete, and whose resurrection is pledged, by the power of his spiritual life over the visible world. Misconceptions of eternity, whose theological result is the destruction of the noblest dogmas, whose philosophical result is the destruction of the noblest ideas, are connected with misconceptions of personality. Thus time becomes an ever-produced line, never finding or exhibiting repose in the sacred circle of eternity;1 and finite being rushes breathlessly, in wild pursuit and ever unsatisfied longings, through time and space to reach the infinite, but in vain! But Christ has manifested the fulfilment of time, even eternity, by the power of His eternal nature. His peace is the peace of eternity, of personality merged in God and finding itself in God. In the power of that infinite superiority to time and space, which is part of His eternal nature, He threatens the storm and wind of that pantheistic excitement of the sea of life, whose wild and foaming obscurity threatens to overwhelm its disciples. And thus there is a great calm. The presence of the personal God gives to His people the assurance that they are eternal personalities, for whom the roaring flood of temporal life is to be transformed into the calm, transparent sea of His eternal administration. 2. Even Feuerbach is constrained to remark (in his essay Das Wesen des Christenthums), though he distorts even this truth into error, that in Christ the end of the natural world of men appeared in principle; that He, as the beginner of a new world, represented the close of the old. ‘Christ, i.e., the historic religious Christ, is not the centre but the end of history. This follows as much from the conception of Christ as from history. Christians expected the end of the world, of history.’-P. 204. It is just because Christ is the principle of the heavenly, and the centre of the actual, that He is the end of the natural world of men.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 18: 02.009. SECTION V ======================================================================== SECTION V the ideality of the gospel history Christianity is in perfect harmony with the conviction that God is the perfect, the all-comprehending, the all-pervading spirit, that He is the power ruling over all life, and that He shows Himself to be this power. God is light, and not darkness, not dull matter, not a being of an unspiritual and impenetrably obscure nature; neither is there in Him a shadow of uncertainty. This conviction is a fundamental one in the conception of spirit; and by it, pure Monotheism is superior to Heathenism, Moses to Plato, Genesis to all the sacred books of Paganism. It is in the life of Christ that its verification is celebrated; for this life is the manifestation of the identity of all reality and all ideality, the marriage festival of their union. It is the manifestation of God in the flesh. Those great contrasts in human life, spirit, and appearance, the ideal and the actual, were originally one. Hence the life of the first man rightly appears in the light of its ideality. Man, at his first appearance, was good, the pure product of God’s creative energy. He lived in the visible glory of the divine goodness which surrounded him, that is, in Paradise. In this point of view, he was not yet subject to temporality, he was not as yet of a perishable nature. He felt within himself that formative process which originated the world, and divined his antecedents with childlike intuitiveness. He felt the presence of God in the gentle whispers of the airs of Paradise, the decisions of God in the impressions made upon himself by the creatures. It was thus that he received a primitive revelation from the co-operation of the objects of surrounding nature with his own sensuous and spiritual powers of anticipation, in the all-enlightening element of the omnipresent divine Spirit. This primitive revelation was, therefore, essentially identical with his primitive condition. If it be represented as special, extraordinary, and supernatural, there is an unconscious assumption of the schism which did not as yet exist.1 This is also the case when primitive man, in the bright dawn of his birth, comprising the beauty of the whole race, surrounded by creation celebrating his advent with joyful animation, when this man is exchanged for the savage in whom the universal curse appears in its full development, and who represents only a stunted branch of humanity.2 This blessed condition, however, of primitive man was in its very nature only for a happy and pretemporal (vorzeitlicher) season. Both moral and religious consciousness testify that the fall must have taken place. Man finds in his life a contradiction between his ideal duty and will, and between his sensuous, or rather his carnal, will and deed; a contradiction between his destiny and reality. Whence did this contradiction arise? By his deeming the restraint under which he was placed an evil, and fancying that he could remedy it.1 For it was by this very means that, when once the contradiction existed, he fell ever farther and farther into the depths of opposition. The nature of the first sin may thus be inferred by the nature of the sin and sinfulness ever before our eyes. By this schism, man’s stand-point with respect to the enlightenment of the Eternal Spirit has been entirely displaced. In his error, he first looks upon his sin as only a natural evil; and, erring still further, he sees wrong even in natural evil. Nature now seems to him a defection from the ideal, an obscurity in God. Reality appears to him as a curse, as a judgment of God, ever plunging him into still lower depths. Thus he charges the contradiction between life and the ideal upon nature,-partly with justice, because even in nature his disturbing influence is apparent; partly with injustice, because God rules in nature, and opposes his sin in all reality. This rupture between ideality and reality, which pervades his whole soul, threatens to become an ever-increasing abyss. But the atonement to come, had its foundation in the original relation existing between divinity and humanity, as described above. In the work of atonement is manifested the reciprocal effect of the compassion of God and the yearning of man. Hence the course of divine pity must ever be in harmony with human desire, and thus also in harmony with divine justice. It was under this condition that the great preparation for the atonement arose. It was necessary that the atonement should take place in and through humanity, for in and through it was the union between the ideal and the actual to reappear. But it was equally necessary that it should take place in separation from and above humanity, for it could only be effected as an act of God. All ideality is on His side, and has power over all reality; but reality which appears in opposition to ideality is impotent, and without resource. Hence the atoner, the reconciler, is on one hand the Son of man, the expression of the deepest and truest life of the human race. He belongs to it. On the other hand, He is the second man, given by God, filled with God. Hence He stands in separation from the first man, and, with him, from the whole race, as the Merciful One, the Redeemer. This contrast appears in process of formation even in the preparation for the atonement. On one side is seen the religious man in his passivity; in his development religion appears as the religion of nature, and under its prevalence human ruin comes to maturity, to that universal despair in which the need of redemption attains its full growth. On the other side, the religious man appears in his activity; spiritual religion is the path taken by his activity, and its climax and fruit is the God-man, the actual and true atonement. This is the contrast between Judaism and Heathenism. God suffered the heathen to walk in their own ways, the ways of vanity, in opposition to the eternal ways of the Spirit. He withdrew from them, as they withdrew from Him. But He called Abraham and his descendants; and His call met their faith and prayer. They who misconceive this contrast, or find it inconsistent with the justice of God, who require an abstract equality in God’s dealings with all nations, might as well take offence at the fact that God did not give the Iliad to the Hottentots, nor the fair hair of the ancient Germans and the Niebelungenlied to the Esquimaux.1 This contrast, however, is only a contrast, and not a contradiction; that is to say, that the salvation which came through the Jews had an inward and hidden reference to the craving for salvation which was ripening among the heathen. It was, moreover, only a limited contrast: notwithstanding the general tendencies of the heathen nations, the need of salvation was urgently felt by the majority,2 and this feeling was itself a near approximation to salvation; while in the majority of the Jews, in spite of the fact that salvation had ripened in their midst, an immense estrangement from salvation had been developed, just because they wanted to convert the contrast into a contradiction-their nation absolutely saved, other nations absolutely lost.3 Consequently, if national developments in general are taken into account, the contrast is entirely a relative one. There is a reflection of spiritual religion in the development of natural religion, as well as a reflection of natural in spiritual religion. Heathenism, absolutely considered, is the contrast between the ideal and the actual. But heathenism, elevated by the feature of aspiration, and of the divine Spirit, displays a mutual interweaving of the ideal into life and of life into the ideal. An element of aspiration existed, which invested the non-historical ideal with an historical body, and the mere dull fact with an ideal splendour and a divine significance. It was thus that mythology, viewed on its bright side, was developed. For it has its dark side also, and lies under the influence of general heathen corruption. We are now, however, considering it only in its more exalted aspect. The myth-forming element, then, is in general identical with the element of aspiration after the reconciliation of the ideal and the actual, after the God-man. It is the play, the anticipation, the poetry, the dream of the christological propensity in its passivity. When, then, this aspiring poetical spirit seizes on the ideal, or the theorem to which in heathenism the power of reality is wanting, it bestows upon them, by a gradual process of contemplation and illustration, more and more of an historic body, and forms them into facts. And thus philosophic myths arise from the element of unconscious longings for the incarnation of God, for heavenly reality. But the same spirit applies itself still more readily to such actual facts or natural phenomena as have a higher significance, explaining them according to its presentiment that all reality must be penetrated by spiritual light. Thus arise historical myths, completed by physical ones, and proceeding from a desire for the glorification of the flesh.1 And finally, when suffering man seeks repose from his weary lot in the charms of poetry, and indulges in anticipations of a brighter and better future, he unites historical and philosophical myths into new forms, in which the whole actual world shines with divine splendour, and heaven is communicated to earth in a circle of facts. Thus do poetic myths arise. The myth-forming era of a nation terminates as well as its infancy. But when does this take place? It may be answered, When its infancy ceases, when it begins to write, or something similar. But such answers are unsatisfactory. When the mind of a nation begins to reflect, and to perceive the fearful depth of the abyss existing between the ideal and life, its myth-forming activity must needs be extinguished. But together with this perception, and in the same proportion, will that hitherto hidden ideal, the government of God, dawn upon it in its strict historical reality. And thus also will it learn to appreciate the spiritual actuality present in the ideals and axioms of the theory of life. Its poetry now becomes the poetry of reality, contemplating and illustrating the actual by the light of philosophical attainments, in its relation to the eternal. The transition, however, from the mythic to the historic stage is by no means a sudden one. It is but gradually that the national mind begins to find even in human caprice, in the accidental, in the bright and the dark sides of life and of nature, and especially in the demoniacal, a more general significance, viz., its relation to the eternal; and thus legends arise. In tradition, the ideal of general reality begins to disclose itself to man. Legends must therefore be of three kinds. Historical legends may perhaps convert the first natural philosophers into powerful magicians; philosophic legends may transform the sportive and evanescent beauties of nature into charming elves, and represent the temptations and deliverances of man as the victories of his guardian spirit over the evil spirits; while poetic legends will blend together reminiscences, for instance, of some demoniacally powerful Dr Faust, with legends of the demoniacal and Faustlike spirit in the breast of man, into a most powerful and effective poem. It is by means of the legend that man is led from that state of childhood and childlike presentiment, whose propensity it is to form myths from the historic germ of the ideal, and from the ideal germ of significant facts, to conscious life, which clearly perceives and carries out the difference between the ideal and life, between poetry and reality, and begins to seek for the divine in things as they are. The philosophic myth now becomes philosophy. The heathen national mind, having come to maturity, now seeks the divine in philosophy as the theory of life, and in order to find it in this abstraction, distinguishes between the school and the life, speculative spirits and ordinary individuals, and proceeds from system to system. The result is despair, for the ideal is never fully realized in life. The elect of speculative blessedness abandon the uninitiated to gloomy ignorance; one system supersedes another, and scepticism threatens to swallow up all. But despair itself brings forth the seed of the felt necessity of salvation. The logos of Plato might animate, civilize, and embellish the world, but could neither make, save, nor sanctify it. The stoicism of Zeno could sacrifice everything, but only in proud self-will, not in the love of God. The recognition of nature’s subjection to law could point Epicurus to a peace to be attained by a conduct in entire conformity with the state of life, but could not lead to rest and delight in God. These ideals formed no unity: they had no power over the life, they were not themselves manifested in the flesh; but they prepared the best of the heathen, by the deep despondency they evoked, the anticipations they inspired, and the prefigurements they taught, for the recognition of the manifestation in the flesh. Parallel also with philosophy appeared the cultivation of actual history, removing with ever-increasing strictness the embellishments of fiction, and seeking the ideal, the overruling providence of God, in historic reality; in the curse of civil war, as well as in the triumph of courageous patriotism; in the pestilence which raged among the people, as well as in the songs of victory which gladdened their festivals; in the silent intelligent connection and concatenation of events, as well as in the terrible judgments in which retribution is seen to march with avenging steps. But here also the result was despair,-a despair, however, which, with unconscious hope, tremblingly discerned the sublime proceedings of the Judge, and produced the fruit of a submission which cast itself upon that Judge’s mercy. The poetic myth now appeared in its metamorphosed and matured form, as classic poetry and formative art. In plastic art, the beautiful forms of gods in human shape are the most significant productions, the faint images of an incarnation of God. The Greek possessed images of special aspects or incidents of the incarnation, but not of the mere incarnation. For the image of Zeus differed from the image of Apollo, and this again from the image of Minerva, and so forth. There is no more a unity of forms in art, than there is a unity of ideals in philosophy. Nothing but a monstrous prejudice could elevate these abstractions or fragmentary ruins of the ideal, of the God-man, exhibited by the pale, cold marble images, which could but point to the divine humanity, above the more hidden, but more spiritual, the glowing, living, and real process of formation of the God-man, of Immanuel, in the prophetic life of Israel.1 It is in heathen poetry, however, that we find the greatest abundance of christological aspirations. In epic poetry, gods, heroes, and men are mingled in the greatest variety. This is the heathen counterpart of the monotheistic ladder reaching to heaven, upon which the angels of God ascend and descend. In lyric poetry are found strains in sympathy with that repose of the human heart in the ideal which became real, permanent, and true in Christ. But it is dramatic poetry which is most significant. It exhibits subjective human personality and action in their struggle with, and opposition to, the power of the reality which God directs and permits. In the comic drama appears that meaner kind of folly which history cannot depict; it is forthwith exposed to ridicule by the power of reality, and the mirth of comedy denotes the constant sinking of the bubbles and froth of vanity in the general stream of rational and moral life. In tragic poetry we witness crime obtaining historical importance by its dark power, and continuing to entail results, until, either as the guilt of the individual, or as the hereditary guilt of the family involved in its curse, it brings about the catastrophe which requires a sacrifice, and which, viewed as a judgment of Supreme Justice, breathes of atonement. It is in Greek tragedy, then, that we meet with the deepest christological notions ever attained by the heathen world. An Iphigenia ‘who must die that an Helen may be recovered;’ an Antigone who sacrifices her happiness and life to redeem her brother’s soul;-what significant references are these to the great centre, the real, the universal, the sufficient atonement! There is a hundred times more unconscious feeling for the truth of the Christian doctrine of the atonement, both in pure ancient tragedy, and in the nobler products of modern tragedy, than in many hypocritical rationalistic moral sermons, based as they are upon a conceited and narrow-minded dislike to the doctrine that Christ atoned on the cross for the sins of Adam’s race. But tragedy being, as classic poetry, distinct from actual life, could at best but mature the aspiration after the true atonement and the sense of its need, and increase the susceptibility for its reception. The national development of the fall of man among the heathen nations, stood from the first in contrast with the national development of salvation among the Jews. Salvation in its formative process exhibits from the beginning an actual realization of the divine ideal of humanity, or, in other words, the idealization of humanity in its inmost actual tendencies. In discussing the call of Abraham, it is a wholly false and no longer tenable alternative, so to view the matter as to consider it a question between the actings of his own mind alone, or the supernatural acts of God alone. That harmonious contrast which exhibits the human in the divine, and the divine in the human, is more in keeping here. The either and or which would for ever separate divinity and humanity, are quite out of date in this case. Divine as well as human is the solution throughout. It would betray a great want of appreciation of the divine-human life to be still disputing concerning Christian faith, whether it were the work of God or of man. Even in the very first germination of the christological life in the patriarchs, this ardent and inward interaction takes place. Because God seeks man, man seeks God, and vice versa. God calling man, and man calling on God, meet and lay hold upon each other. The God who calls, enters unto covenant with the man who calls upon Him. By this covenant with Jehovah, with the ever-personal God of ever-personal beings, the life of the patriarchs begins to shine with the glory of the ideal. The dawn of the manifestation of God in the flesh appears. The religion of Israel, as the religion of the patriarchs, or of the promise, is the counterpart of the heathen mythology. The promise is divine ideality realized, or in process of realization, in its interaction with the active aspirations of men freely yielding themselves to God. If historic myths are here sought, the seekers are corrected by the appearance of Abraham, who, in strict historical reality, is declared to be, in spite of all deficiencies, through faith, the father of the faithful. Are philosophic myths inquired after?-the inquiry is met by the history of Jacob, appearing as Israel, and showing how the Ideal becomes Life: he so wrestled with the angel of the Theophany, during the darkness of the night, that he was lamed by the shock, and went halting in the daylight. Finally, are poetic myths sought?-these, as well as the two former kinds, are superseded and forbidden by more real relations; in the blessing of Jacob, e.g., appears a poem prophetically disclosing the very spirit and significance of his sons, and the theocratic future of his descendants. The counterpart of heathen legends is seen among the people of Israel in the rich significance acquired by everything emerging from this people, or even coming in contact with them. The Dead Sea, Saul among the prophets, the Edomite, and Philistine, all become symbolical when viewed in the light of the Israelitish mind. But here also the masculine pre-Christian consciousness is characterized by its discrimination of the various references between the real and the ideal. Heathen philosophy finds its counterpart in the law of the Hebrews. If the ideal is mere theory in the former, it becomes statute and practice in the latter. If it forms an esoteric school in the former, it forms an exoteric national society in the latter. If in the former it wanders from system to system, it exhibits itself in the latter in the firmest historical consistency. From the fact, indeed, that the ideal becomes law for a whole nation, with all its rough, weak, and wild members, it seems to lose in logical pliability and pure spirituality. But the law in Israel, which was binding upon all spirits, was completed by the typical worship, which stirred, awakened, instructed, and liberated those that were receptive. All the types of this worship were, to the receptive, symbols of the eternal thoughts of God, and awoke within them ever increasing anticipations, as well as isolated perceptions and glimpses, of the nature of the atonement. With the actual history, too, of the heathen nations, and its exhibition of tragic objective reality, is contrasted the sacred history of Israel, with its reference of all the events and leadings experienced by the people of God to His direct appointment. The history of Israel is illumined by the glory of the ideal. The stars are in alliance with the host of the Lord. The phenomena of natural life are seen in co-operation and harmony with the antecedents and circumstances of the kingdom of God. All the great incidents even of profane history are, by their reference to the higher life in Israel, placed in relationship with the supreme and universal aim and purpose, with the manifestation of God, with the atonement. From this explanation of the ways of Israel arises that rich historical typicism, by which God’s dealings with Israel-e.g., their passage through the Red Sea, and their wanderings in the wilderness-typify the lot of His true people. Finally, the noblest manifestation of spiritual life among the heathen, viz., art and poetry, finds its counterpart in Hebrew prophecy. In the former, the poet is an idealistic prophet; in the latter, the prophet is a realistic poet. In the one, we have a passive homage done to that holy thing which was in process of formation; in the other, the active formation of the object of sacred homage. In the inspired frames and utterances of the prophets are represented the incidents of the maturing and approaching incarnation of the Son of God. Poetry itself is filled with the power of reality, and reality is laid hold of, corrected, cheered, and penetrated by this consecrating spirit. This struggle of humanity with divinity, and of divinity with humanity, which, with its overflowing joys and abundant sorrows, forms the distinctive characteristic of Israelitish life, terminates at last in their perfect union in the God-Man. The holy Virgin, the highly favoured instrument of mature, perfect, human aspiration, conceives the God-man, the incarnation of complete salvation, and now reality becomes ideality, and ideality reality,-the true union of divinity and humanity appears. But till this consummation, the eternal light, during the process of its breaking forth from behind the dark background of the natural national life of Israel, was surrounded by coloured rims, representing in mythological reflections the myths of the heathen world. The patriarchs had their imperfections, the law its transitory forms, the history of Israel its strange admixtures, the prophets their troubled frames of mind, and the opposition of false prophets. Hence a mythological excrescence forms as it were the setting to the development of pure theocracy in Israel, but is always separate and distinct, as a mere accompaniment, from the brightness of this development. At length, with the consummation of the ideal reality, a positive heathen product of this mythological matter is formed in Israel. Abstract myths of the New Testament era are represented by the deeds of hardened and antichristian Judaism; philosophical myths, by the Talmud; historical myths, by the homeless journeying of the wandering Jew through the world; poetic myths, by the lamentations of Israel over the mere shadow of Zion’s glory, when its reality was ever more and more giving light to the world. Before endeavouring to form an estimate of the genuine ideal history of the incarnation of God in Christ in its full significance, we will try to depict the relation of the more prominent features of the world’s history in the ages subsequent to the Christian era, during which the effects of Christ’s life were developed, to the mythology of ancient times. In the Christian world, history was essentially modified. It was now subjected to the ever-increasing preponderance of the ideal over the actual. The divine life now flowed, like a silent but mighty stream, through the world of men. The most wonderful, the most exalted ideals became realities; e.g., the emancipation of slaves, the moral and intellectual equality of woman with man, the recognition of the brotherhood of nations, and their incipient alliance. But the history of the world in Christian times did not become immediately an entirely ideal history. The power of old corruptions, though it had received its death-blow, continued to manifest a fearful activity; and this still active corruption appeared in its universal prevalence even within the circle of the Church, so soon as the Church ventured to receive into its bosom, by wholesale baptisms, nations which had yet to be educated into Christian nations. But the spirit of Christianity, assured beforehand of victory, nay, animated by present victory, as the spirit of Christ, was ever contending with these masses of rude and corrupt reality. It is from these fundamental relations of the Eternal Spirit to reality, that isolated analogies have arisen between Christian history and the Jewish and heathen histories, with reference to the mythological notion. The life of the Church of Christ is in its essence divine and human, glorious, spiritually active, in other words, at once both real and ideal. Such a life flows with ever increasing power through the hidden depths of Church history; and in these depths the Christian spirit and Christian reality, as well as Christian poetry, or the celebration of life’s ideal, are one. In its development, however, the life of Christ in the Church is a life in process of formation, and more or less resembles the Israelitish life. The characteristic of this formative process was seen in the fact, that Christian truths, like laws, tended to life, but had not yet become free and developed life; that Christian persons, ways, and facts, though everywhere illumined by the heavenly glory of the ideal, were frequently plunged again into darkness; that Christian worship was still in strong contrast with work, Sundays with working days, poetry with actual life. This circle of formative Christian life, however, was itself surrounded by an extensive circle of heathen life, which the nations had in large proportions transplanted into the Christian Church. In this dark surrounding, even the light of Christianity was of necessity variously refracted, and the deepest dyes and loudest tones of the ancient mythology in consequence reappeared. The time of Christ and of His apostles may be compared with the time of the patriarchs. Our remarks will eventually treat of this period, but are at present more immediately concerned with periods of greater historical breadth, more comprehensible, and gradually leading to the due understanding of that ideal height. The age of the apostolic fathers and of apostolic traditions till the time of Constantine, may be compared with that age of legends which forms the transition from the mythologic to the historic period. An addition of the mythic element plays round the centre of purely Christian and spiritualized reality. In the systems of the Gnostics, the plastic impulse of Christianity appears in its strangest form. Every notion here appears as an acting person. As a semi-heathen tendency, Gnosticism recoils from acknowledging the Incarnate Word, the God-man; while as a semi-Christian tendency, it is constrained to satisfy its impulse towards the one true God-man by the formation of a thousand idealistic phantoms of Him. And thus philosophic legends make their appearance. The historic are exhibited in the manner in which the important personages of the time are symbolically magnified: Nero, e.g., into the Antichrist; Simon Magus, the spurious miracle-worker, into the counterpart of Simon Peter. Antichristian life also is drawn in darker, and Christian life in fairer colours, than the facts justify, as in the history of the martyrs. It is in the apocryphal gospels and histories of apostles, however, that the poetic legends of the period, the pious romances of this very peculiar popular life, appear. For there were but few whose primary intention, as heretical works, was actual deception. The period from Constantine the Great to Gregory the Great, forcibly recalls that of the giving of the law to Israel. The sacred ideal now becomes symbol, as it then became law. Religious history now becomes a history of dogmas, as then a typical history. Then, popular poetry was the celebration of symbolical promises; here, it is the commemoration of the perfected fact of redemption. The mythic element here appears in large proportions as an accessory. The Son of God of the Arians, for instance, is a philosophical myth in process of formation, gradually introducing by its development a new Polytheism. The history of the first monks, e.g., of Anthony and Paul of Thebes, forms historic myths of the most beautiful and fullest significance. The tradition of this period becomes poetry, its poetry tradition, and the poetic myth is seen in the very dawn of legendary fiction. The middle ages exhibit the New Testament people of God in their greatest extension, in their first stage of Christian development, at their nearest approach to heathenism. All forms of spiritual life, Christian, Jewish, heathen, are here present, and the most various, the most copious intermixture of the real with the ideal takes place: there is a continual advance of heathenism by the law and the promise towards Christ, a continual descent of the Christian spirit upon all the steps of this wide-spread and various national temperament. If we inquire after the ideal in its Christian vitality, after doctrine, Scholasticism exhibits a remarkable embodiment of all ideal Christian knowledge. Scholasticism is Christian in its essence-freedom of thought in the power of faith; Old Testament-like in its form-its defined and statutory decisions, and in the relation of service in which it stands to ecclesiastical dogmas; and finally, mythologic in the manner in which it converts separate notions into definite forms, and is reflected in the abhorrent astonishment of Christian people. Yet how marvellously did the enthusiasm of the Christian ideal seize the Christian nations of the middle ages! The whole life of mediæval times becomes romantic, that is, illumined by the lightning-like glances of the Eternal, pervaded by touches of significant symbolism, through the attraction of Christian enthusiasm, in its popular, sympathetic power, and in the impulsive ardour of its youth. As the lightning at night continually illuminates the dark sky, so do the day-streaks of the Eternal fall, with ever increasing brightness, upon the dark reality. Life itself becomes poetry in this idealistic tendency. The Grecian people, in the ideal expedition of its heroic and youthful period, the expedition to Troy, obtained possession of the beautiful woman; the Jewish people, in an expedition of a similar kind, according to their temperament and tendency, conquered the promised land; the Christian nations, in their romantic expeditions, delivered the holy sepulchre. These all expressed the peculiarity of their several tendencies, temperaments, and enthusiasms, in relation to an historical phenomenon, which they recognized as their most special property, and which became to them the symbol of their whole spiritual prosperity. But when we contemplate the distinctive incidents of this idealized Christian national history, we see that in the deep cloistral seclusion of monastic life, in the middle ages, the Christian spirit, as such, was diving with mystic ardour into the mysteries of the Gospel, and converting them into experience and knowledge; that, besides an external sacerdotal consecration, it was acquainted with the free consecration of the Spirit in the various stages of the inner life, and was thus preparing for that happy New Testament life of faith which broke forth at the Reformation. We see, however, the same spirit in its Old Testament form, as a theocratic spirit, agitating and exciting, educating and consecrating, national life; we see it as a legal spirit, wielding the rod, or even hurling the threatening and annihilating lightning; we see it as a presentient spirit, converting all persons, customs, usages, and events into symbols of the future and eternal world. The heathen mind also everywhere takes its part in transforming Christian history into mythic phantasmagoriæ, Christian apophthegms into heathen incantations, Christian relics into heathen fetishes, Christian saints into heathen divinities. As then this Christian national life is itself romantic, the poetry and art of the period are especially so. It is not enough that these should produce their proper effect as art, they must be also symbolic and prophetic. Thus related to Christian idealism, and illuminated by it, do we behold mediæval art seizing upon history, and consecrating it by the worship with which she is identified. This symbolic kind of poetry and art of the middle ages unites the enigmatic typicism of the Old Testament with that Christian transparency of form which allows the light of the ideal to be seen; while, under the form of legends, it expresses, in a manner more or less mythological, the great gulf between the Christian ideal and reality. With the Reformation, however, Christian national life, as such, began to rise to the spiritual level of the New Testament, the specific distinction between the priesthood and the laity being, in conformity with the spirit of Christianity, abolished. The dogmas of Christianity, which had hitherto been regarded as a kind of esoteric mysteries, unfitted for and unattainable by the ordinary understanding of the Christian people, being now inculcated in a manner suited to the intellectual capacities of the flock, were transformed into powerful convictions and vital influences. On the other hand, all life, all reality, was brought to light and to judgment by the purifying glow of the Christian spirit: morals, trade, policy, war, all were thrown into the refining fire, and only that which was pure could abide the flames, and exhibit an ideal reality. Hence, too, past history was viewed more and more in its relation to the destiny of man, and explained in its ideality as the effect of the all-prevailing government of God. And finally, poetry also became more abundant in vitality, a consecration of man’s deepest sorrows, questions, hopes, and blessings; and true Christian life acquired more and more the transfiguration glory resulting from a solemn contemplation of all worldly events in the light of Christ’s victory. Thus a prospect was opened of a future, in which all Christian ideals will have the power of all availing vital forces, of custom and reality; and in which Christian national life will appear in the consecration of the Spirit, in the priestly dignity of continual submission to God, and in the royal honour of free agency, in His strength. The result of this union of the divine and human life in the great extension of elect Christian national life, will be the perfected poetry of life, the longed-for rest of the people of God, called by the Mystics the seventh era, the Sabbath of the world’s history. In proportion, however, as this ideal Christian history comes to maturity, and even more speedily, is its antichristian contrast also matured, the last universal form of that false mythological manner of existence which, in the presence of apostolic Christianity, was formed in the Talmud, and in the allied features of Judaism. On one hand, it announced itself by the philosophical tendency which denied to the ideal the power of being realized in the personality of the God-man, in the Christian Church, in its priesthood, in immortal individuals, and their salvation. On the other hand, it profaned history: moral precepts were to supplant religious revelations, mechanical inventions to eclipse moral precepts, materialistic calculations to subjugate mechanical inventions, and, finally, animal inclinations were, as a fixed principle, to govern the whole human race. One result of this depreciation of the religious and ethical view of the world, was the appearance of an absolute scepticism in all that is historically noble or holy, since the certainty of the noble and the holy can only be recognized in the element of religion and morality. Finally, the poetry of this dismemberment of the world became, in conformity with this tendency, more and more a poetry of sin and crime, the poetry which glorifies man as the demoniac animal, but blasphemes the God-man. This development points to its termination, these appearances point to that final form wherein the ruin of mankind will be manifested in the maturity of its antichristian position. The dark side of mythology in its full development is seen here. Its hatred of the manifestation of ideal perfection in the light of Christianity, possessing as it does the illumination of that word which embraces and explains both heaven and earth, is shown in those strange caricatures and imitations of the ideal, in those monstrous representations of the spiritual, in which the apophthegm and its contradiction, prayer and blasphemy, the features of an angel of light and the grimaces of Satan, mingling with each other, exhibit the unspeakable confusion of the ideal. Aversion to Christian sanctity of life, as exhibited in the spiritual purity of marriage, in the spiritual consecration of property, in the spiritual elevation of the State, in the spiritual authority of the Church, which represents the bride,-this aversion has, in its delusions, so mingled the utmost profligacy with the most hypocritical monkery, the plunder of property with its dissipation, rebellion with despotic terror, and scepticism with the most abject submission to the hierarchy, that the historical presence of this sanctity can nowhere be perceived or secured in this wild confusion, but passes through the bright day like a dark myth. The poetry of so confused a state of existence can, in its very nature, be no nightingale-song, but rather resembles the croak of the three demoniacal frogs of the Apocalypse (Revelation 16:13), who are to appear in the last stage of the world’s history, to complete the last seduction. But everywhere, even in his deepest ruin, man testifies to the indestructible tendency of his life, to realize the ideal, to idealize the real, and to celebrate this union in poetry. Even mature Antichristianity desires this union and its celebration, but not so that things should be absorbed in persons, but persons in things-not by investing substance with the light of the subject, but by plunging the subject into the obscurity of substance-not in the personal Christ, in whom all Christians are one, but in impersonal Christians, in whom the one Christ, ever divided and never complete, appears and disappears everywhere, and nowhere. Antichristianity is a caricature, a hostile imitation of Christianity, only because it wants personality, and especially the all-unifying person of Christ. All its distortions cry out for a total correction, all its perplexities for a thorough solution, all its mad phrases for a healing inspiration by one word, which would make all clear, the reigning person, the God-man. But when we behold the full, ever-spreading, ever-increasing flow of Christian divine-human life through the world, and trace this stream to its origin, shall we find it to have its rise from a source in which the ideal has not become life, nor the life ideal-in which religious passivity, as in heathen mythology, must supply its deficiencies by fictions of an atonement? The stream, on the contrary, points to a source of its own kind, to an abundant and ever-flowing fount of its own peculiar nature,-an origin, therefore, which is at once both spirit and fact, life and consecration. Christianity points back to Christ in all His historical glory. Finally, if we follow the track of the christological formative process in the Old Covenant, and ask, To what end does it tend, what flower must this wondrous plant bear, into what fruit will it ripen?-this formative process also leads us to the appearing of Messiah, of the God-man in all His historical power and glory. There must then necessarily exist between these pre-Christian preparations and that historical flowing forth of the divine-human life in the Christian era, such an upland as the Gospel history exhibits. The chief feature of this region is that fundamental principle of Christian life-atonement. Here, then, we see in highest religious activity that foreordained and perfected reality of divine life, to which heathen mythology testified in religious passivity by significant dreams. The beautiful dream has here grown into reality; hence that faint dream of a dream, the view that the evangelical history has a mythic character, is an anachronism. We have now reached that point of our subject which makes it our next concern to endeavour to estimate the nature of Christ Himself, with reference to the epochs of mythology. His advent as the God-man was necessary, as the result of Judaism, and as the principle of Christianity. If He had not so appeared, Judaism would be justified in its permanence; and if He were not the personal God-man, the Christian life would be but a delusion, founded as it is on the relations of believing persons to the supreme personality. He is the Son of God: as the living unity of all the revelations of God, He appears with the power of eternity in the midst of time, and is thus also the complete realization of every divine ideal. But He is therefore also the Son of man, the living unity of all pure and elevated human life, the most intensely human being in the light of a holy life; in other words, the perfect spiritualization of human reality. As the Son of God, He feels Himself, in virtue of His divine consciousness, to be resting in the bosom of the Father (John 1:18); and as the Son of man, he bears on His heart the whole human race, and strives to raise them with Himself into His glory (John 12:32). Atonement is the central point of His being: in Him divinity and humanity, the spirit and nature, ideality and reality, Jews and Gentiles, heaven and earth, are reunited. We may now view His life in its various relations. When we see how the Godhead is therein manifested in the flesh, in other words, the Eternal in the highest historical reality, Christ is Himself presented to us as the supreme miracle, the vital principle of each separate miracle. He enters the already existing spheres of life, as the last, the decisive, the transforming vital principle; hence He is both the miracle and the source of miracles, the principle of transformation and renewal to the whole Adamic race. But when we view His humanity, and see how it is one with its ideal, illuminated by the thought of God, and thus a reflection of the whole world, He appears also as the great symbol. He is in this relation the pure image of God, and therefore the light of the world; the key which unlocks the spiritual riches of heaven, of mankind, and of nature; the centre of all symbols. And because it is in Him that the Godhead first triumphs in complete victory in a human heart, and in Him that a human being first reposes on the bosom of God, on His Father’s heart, and there joyfully rests and solemnly works, His life is the highest poetry. His dealings are the perfect rhythm; His word is lyric, a perpetual hymn of praise; His work the true worship of the highest festival, Himself the fairest of the children of men. And as Christ, as the miracle, renews the world, and as the symbol enlightens it; so does He, as the fairest image of God therein, also glorify it, till His Church shall appear as the bride, till both heaven and earth shall crown her with splendour as the inheritance of God. The glory of Christ’s deeds is the result of this glory of His nature.1 As being in Himself wonderful, He must needs show Himself to be such, by wonder-working. Some would view Him as the God-man, without acknowledging His miracles; others will concede the miracle of the resurrection, but none other. What is this but a sun without rays-a heaven-reaching alpine peak without its surrounding wreath of Alps, and without highlands! The concession is as obscure as the negation The incarnation of the Son of God is not His mere incorporation. In His incarnation is involved His dwelling and walking among men (John 1:14). For a man is converted into a mere apparition, if we do not grant that we must act in conformity with his intrinsic nature. This monstrous assumption is contrary also to historical truth and teleology. For never yet was a solitary power placed in the world, as a mere specimen, and then withdrawn. If it be said, that surely it is enough to allow that Christ effected very much by the power of His word, and founded an enduring Church, we would reply: Must not the auspices under which His powerful word formed the Church have been miracles? Must not that effect of His word which, breaking through the outward forms of Judaism, in a few years transformed the Jewish world into the Christian world, have been accompanied by miraculous phenomena? But if it is asserted that these miracles of the Lord Jesus were, at least when compared with His teaching, but subordinate manifestations of His life, such a view is certainly not that of St John, nor in accordance with the sublimity of the Christian principle. The Christian principle presupposes that in the life of Jesus every utterance has the power of a fact, every fact or miraculous operation the distinctness of a vocal declaration. Hence, according to St John’s Gospel, our Lord often describes His word as His work; His spiritual revelations consist of the most decided effects, they are the deeds of His word, or the words of His deed; if at one time an act is the motive of His words, at another His word is the motive of His acts. Thus the words and works of Christ are, on the one hand, the separate miracles flowing from the deep fountain of His wondrous life; on the other, the separate symbols, by which the varied and abundant affluence of the eternal Spirit is announced.2 What solemn beauty do all His deeds exhibit! A Sabbath glory rests on Canaan, where they were performed; a stream of eternal peace wells forth from His most arduous conflict in Gethsemane; the accursed tree itself becomes a mark of honour when once His holy head has touched it. This remark leads us to a fresh subject, that of the circumstances by which our Lord was surrounded. We are here reminded that it is legend which first strives to look upon coarse or common reality in the light of the ideal; that it is legend which grasps, by anticipation and invention, the spiritual significance of the actual world. But in this case fictions would be out of date. For it is a universal law that, as is the man, so is the opportunity presented to him. Supreme importance of personality demands supreme importance of surrounding circumstances. Hence the circumstances by which Christ was surrounded acquire a peculiar and universal distinction, as being adapted to call forth the full development of His power, to occasion the whole working out of His life. They form, in their character and concatenations, a concentrated expression of the history of the world. For it was in His own age that Christ overcame the world and the powers of hell; it was in His own days that He found appropriate instruments for the founding of His kingdom. Thus His history was perfected by the interaction of His peculiar life with a peculiar constellation of the world’s history. And it is in this way that the ideality of His life becomes an illuminating agency to the whole world; on this account, that His fate is as wonderful as His life. The fact that the theocratically-trained Jewish world and the classically-trained heathen world united with equal perversion to crucify Him, exhibits a peculiar and tragical coincidence, involving the whole ancient world in condemnation. The world’s sentence, which He underwent in His death, was to be followed by His resurrection. But if the history of His life also is rich in single and significant features, in which the course of nature corresponds with its course, this will be found in strict accordance with the parallelism in which nature is wont to develop itself with the spirit of man. In a case wherein the whole human race is, so to speak, concentrated in one life, on the conflict and victory of which its fate depends, and wherein the conflicts of this life have so culminated that the decisive moment has arrived by which the earth as well as humanity is to be glorified, we need not be surprised at convulsions of the earth. Why must sentient nature maintain at such a moment a stoical indifference, when in less important crises she has announced, so to speak, her co-operation with that divine Spirit which was directing the world’s history? But the miraculous in the history of Jesus develops also a rich symbolism, which makes the whole world transparent to its very depths. The characters by whom our Lord is surrounded, as heroes of recipiency for His spirit-a Peter, a James, a John; the dwellings which receive Him, such as the house at Bethany; the dark or darkened beings who oppose Him-a Judas, a Caiaphas, a Pilate,-how significant do they become by their relation to Christ, and by the effect of His light, in manifesting the depths of human nature, of the world, and of hell! Yes, every man whom the Lord touched, every creature, every fleeting occurrence, becomes a living mirror, an enlightening agency to the world. His Spirit is the miraculous finger which elicits from everything its peculiar tone, everything must respond to His word. This Spirit glorifies even His cross, by revealing His victory in the resurrection. In His sufferings on the cross is seen the reconciliation of the world, and by the light of this reconciliation a glory is shed upon all sorrow, upon all that is dark and terrible on earth, as being a dispensation of God’s hidden kindness. Judgment is seen in its deep inward union with sin-annulling grace, and the world is illuminated to its very depths by the light of the divine government, glorifying itself in its victory over all evil. But it is also the same Spirit which transforms His fate into the most sublime poetical event. His life is, in its simple Gospel features, a sublime Messiad, which no poetry can surpass. It is a drama, assembling its lifelike characters in the centre of the world, and introducing, in the sharpest traits, in the most significant deeds, in the most sudden results, that catastrophe of whose all-affecting reality and result all tragic occurrences and fictions had prophesied-a catastrophe in which the curse of the Adamic race falls upon the holy child of this race, as the most terrible judgment of God upon the world, and yet a judgment which, through the infinite satisfaction of this holy sacrifice, becomes the reconciliation of the world and the means of its glorification. From the mortal agonies and heavenly victories of this history, are breathed upon every recipient soul the reviving and quickening influences of the peace of God. So real is the ideal world opened to us in the Gospel history. It is a wonderfully copious, a heavenly, a far-reaching reality, which the Philistine (Philister) beholds with alarm, and strives to represent as an obscure mythical image, in order to free himself from the powerful effect it has in disturbing his comfort. But where reality thus exhibits miracle, symbol, and poetry, in their highest unity, power, and depth, mythical representations are superseded,1 and must vanish before the simple narratives of this reality; or, if they remain, can only be regarded as the timid apocryphal productions of popular Christianity in its immature state. Every abstract fiction must here be below the truth; and the assumption that this reality itself is such a fiction, is a pale phantom venturing to appear at midday. notes 1. Much discussion has of late taken place concerning the notion of myths, since the word has been so vaguely employed by many, and lately by Strauss, in matters theological. Invention, fiction, error, fable, and anecdote have all had to play their parts in the notion of the myth. Tholuck (die Glaubenwürdigkeit der evangelischen Geschichte, p. 51, &c.), among others, animadverts upon this confusion. Strauss subsequently expressed himself more clearly. ‘We distinguish by the name of an evangelical myth, a narrative directly or indirectly referring to Jesus, which may be considered not as the expression of a fact, but as the deposit of an idea of His earliest followers. The myth, in this sense, will be met with, here as elsewhere, sometimes pure, as the substance of the narrative, sometimes as an accessory to actual history.’ This whole definition rests upon a misconception of the fundamental relations existing between ideas and facts. It assumes, in the Gospel history itself, a mutilated realization of eternal ideas; and in the narrative of the Gospel history an idealistic representation of these ideas, overgrowing the reality. The idea here works in a Neptunian, not a Plutonian manner; it can form ‘deposits’ of facts, and ‘wash away’ the firmer form of tradition in its floods, but is incapable of forming primitive rocks by igneous forces, and raising a new world from the deeps. The distinction between the historical and philosophical myth is not here allowed its due importance. The philosophical appears as the pure myth, drawing from two sources-from Old Testament Messianic expectations, and from the impression which Christ left behind Him; the historical, as a myth appended to history, and having for its foundation some isolated fact, of which enthusiasm takes possession, ‘in order to entwine it with mythic conceptions drawn from the idea of the Christ.’ Thus the pure or philosophic myth is doubly deprived of its real elements; first of the Messianic expectation in its real tendency, then of the impression made by Christ according to its real contents; and the historical myth doubly mutilated; for, first, there is an occurrence of which enthusiasm takes possession, instead of the occurrence awakening the enthusiasm; then the myth is formed out of this occurrence, not by being further fashioned in the fire of the idea, but by being ‘entwined,’ as with a garland, with mythic conceptions. So antagonistic to each other are the ideal and the actual in this province of criticism. They meet like Ahrimanes and Ormuzd. The Doceticism of a dualistic view of the universe, unable fully to grasp the mystery that the Son of God came in the flesh, here co-operates with the Ebionitism which insists upon seeing in the Christian Church an idealist far surpassing the prophet and his impression, and cannot comprehend that the flesh of Christ’s life was pervaded by the Spirit, His deeds (the supposed anecdotes) illuminated by the ideal; to which, therefore, the doctrine that Jesus is the Christ is still a foreign one. Doceticism never attains to a recognition of the fulness of the Godhead in the midst of the manhood, the fulness of ideality crowned with reality. The ideal, in its flight over the earth, is only allowed to skim it like a swallow. Ebionitism, on the other hand, is incapable of recognising in the God-man, the Son of God who goes to the Father, and is raised up to the glory of the Father. According to its view, human nature only attains to the theories of the idealist-to a sort of bear’s dance to the measure of the eternal, which it is unable to keep up, and soon falls heavily again upon its broad forefeet. This swallow’s flight of the ideal, this bear’s dance of the actual, point to that constant schism in the world, or rather in the view of the world, entertained by the criticism in question, which may be regarded as the peculiar mark of Manichean error within the province of Christianity. The theological dictum on the notion of the myth is taken up con amore by Otfried Muller. Myths, says he (Prolegomena zu einer wissenschaftlichen Mythologie, p. 59),1 are, according to their external notion, ‘narratives of the doings and destinies of individual personages, which, according to their connection and blending with each other, relate to a period antecedent to the historical era of Greece, and separated from it by a tolerably distinct boundary.’ With respect to the internal notion of the myth, it is ‘a mode of fusing together fact and idea’ (p. 78). ‘This union’ (of the thing done and the thought entertained), says the author, ‘takes place in most myths; and there are not many in which something real and something ideal may not be pointed out. The older the myth, the more entirely is the fact blended with the thought. Hence, even the difference between the historic and philosophic myth, on which great stress was formerly laid, is relatively of less importance’ (p. 70). It is entirely in accordance with Christian theology, that the older the myth is, the more entirely does the fact seem blended with the idea. The primitive is the type of the consummation. As, then, the highest myth in the centre of history consists in the union of the incidents of the actual, the marvellous, the symbolic or ideal, and the poetic, so must the first myth, at the beginning of pre-historic times, exhibit this union also. It is in the nature of things that here every idea should find its type in reality, and that, vice versa, every fact should be illuminated by its relation to the ideal. Gradually, however, a ramification takes place. The myth of Pandora, for instance, is at all events a philosophical myth; it represents the idea of the origin of evil by an occurrence. In the recovery of the Grecian Helen from Troy, on the contrary, we have a fact embellished into a highly significant myth, in which the nation that dedicated itself to the service of beauty, began its heroic deeds in conformity with this impulse. Finally, the harmonious union of all the incidents relating to the idealized fact, forms the poetic myth. Muller does not bring this forward as a peculiar kind of myth, but discusses the notions that appertain to it under the title, ‘How the myth is to be distinguished from its treatment by poets and authors.’ Here the psychological motive of the occurrences, and the arrangement of various legends into one harmonious whole, is defined as the poet’s share in the embellishment of a fact. Compare Ullmann’s treatise, Historisch oder Mythisch, p. 56. On the distinction between the myth and the legend, compare George, Ueber Mythus und Sage, and Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. i. p. 113. Strauss defines as legendary, on one hand, the inaccuracies, on the other, the colourings, modifying such history as passes through a long course of oral tradition. These formulæ do not, however, in the least degree touch upon the real inner nature of the legend. The distinction of George would convert the historic myth into legend-myth and legend are almost one. The former is the legend of the Greeks, the latter the myth of the Germans. If, however, the essential distinction of these notions be required, it must be acknowledged that the myth poetically matures the scattered seed which has a religious signification, while the legend anticipatively expresses the recognition of the ideal in common, variegated, fantastic, or even terrible reality. When a misfortune consciously self-incurred is attributed to Nemesis, this is of the nature of the myth. When the shipwreck on the Lurley rocks, a mishap incurred by an unconscious fault, or by no fault at all, is ascribed to Loreley, this is of the nature of the legend. 2. In estimating the relation of the Gospel history to mythology, it must be considered, (1) as the original history of the new human race, or the real people of God, which, as such, can by no means be history in the usual sense, but only poetic, symbolic, and religious history; (2) as the commencement of a development of life, which, in conformity with its nature, is a manifestation of truth; and especially of the truth of the ideal, verified in its facts, and of the facts verified in their ideal nature. According to the notion of Christianity, it is impossible that it should be surpassed, enriched, or carried further, by any embellishments. 3. Prophecy exhibits a series of real interactions between the real and the ideal. The idea of prophecy, which many theologians had thrown away as a weed, has been brought back to them by botanists and poets, who have begun to recognize, even in the life of plants, the nature of prophecy. Göthe’s poem Die Metamorphosen der Pflanzen is, in this respect, very significant. All those phenomena of natural life, which not only externally announce, but also internally prepare a higher development, as, e.g., the leaf does the flower, present an image of prophecy. The myth, on the contrary, has its type in the various allusions, or lights and shadows, in which nature is so abundant. Thus the moon, for example, upon whose dark but real body is impressed, so to speak, the image of the sun’s brightness, the ideal of its nature seems to be an image of the historical myth. The dawn, on the other hand, denotes the philosophical myth: we have here the young day which, before its appearance in the world, forms in the clouds of heaven a beautiful but unsubstantial corporeity. The rainbow represents figuratively the original unity of the two kinds of myths; the primitive myth, for the clouds representing obscure reality is illumined by the light, but the light, denoting the colourless ideal, develops all its variegated splendour in its union with this reality. Finally, the reflection of the heavens in a clear stream seems a natural emblem of the poetic myth. As the bright images of the sun and moon appear in the watery mirror, fulfilling the saying, ‘Kehrt wellenathmend ihr Gesicht nicht doppelt schöner her?’ so do the pure reflections of ideal history, or of the mythically incorporated ideal, appear with enhanced splendour in the element of poetry. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 19: 02.010. SECTION VI ======================================================================== SECTION VI the effect of the ideal history: the sacred remembrance Great characters manifest themselves by great exhibitions of their power. These exhibitions are confirmed by the great impressions they produce within the sphere of their operation. These impressions, finally, continue in the abundant, clear, and powerful reminiscences of those whose minds were affected by them. The stronger the impression a man has received, the greater will be the power with which it will, during his whole life, prevail over all weaker impressions and remembrances. The more general this impression is, and the greater the number of the minds who share it, the longer will its memory survive, both in the private intercourse and public announcements of a community. But if the impression be a religious, a practical, a vital one, it must of necessity be exhibited in the life of the community, whose very spiritual being stands in constant interaction with this its remembrance. In proportion, finally, as this impression is consolatory and elevating, will the memorial, in which it resounds through the world, and through time, be a sacred one. It was consequently inevitable, that the effect of the life of Jesus should be impressed and perpetuated, in a sacred memorial upon the life, and within the circle of His followers, by means of the Gospel history; for the most powerful effect which mankind ever experienced, lay in the exhibition of His divine-human life, by which the glory of God was fully manifested in the midst of mankind. Hence the remembrance of Him and of His history is the predominating historical thought of the human race, and surpasses all other human remembrances. The effect of Christ’s life has, from the very first, affected through its divine power the whole human race, by means of that agitation which it produced among His immediate followers. It is an effect still propagated by means of the members of His Church, and one which will never cease till it has penetrated the whole body of humanity. As a religious influence, however, or rather as the religious influence, proceeding as it does from perfect religion, it constitutes a church, whose spiritual life is identical with its remembrance. The highest solemnity of the Christian life, e.g., is the showing forth of the death and victory of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. If then we contemplate the matter of the Gospel history in the impression it has left on Christian life, in the assurance of the manifestation of God, of the atonement, of victory over death, and of the heavenly glory of Christ and His people, the conclusion is irresistible, that in this definite and full memorial of the Christian Church we behold a sacred memorial to all mankind of the great days and great facts of their reunion with God. The effect of Christ’s life and deeds may be regarded generally as the greatest shock ever experienced by mankind.1 As such it naturally commanded the attention even of the enemies of Christ, and of those who unconsciously experienced its agency in their very enmity. His enemies could not free themselves from the remembrance of Him, though they deformed it into a caricature, through the false medium of their self-delusion, as they had before experienced only exasperation and delusion through their perversion of His agency. The watchful and zealous hatred which, according to the Acts of the Apostles, was ever excited by the announcement of Christ’s death and resurrection, bears witness to this. The Roman power, whose representative, Pontius Pilate, had, in his weak and false hesitation, suffered himself to be seduced to the execution of the Jewish designs against Jesus, received by this execution its first impulse to an inimical disposition towards Christ. It was in the sphere of this inimical disposition, that the accounts propagated by Tacitus and Suetonius2 concerning Christ were formed. Even in the high places of Roman life, the spirits of the day very soon received a faint impression of that great spiritual conflict and victory, whose effects were from henceforth to agitate the world. This inimical representation of the agency of Christ, expressed in obscure traditions concerning Him, was surrounded by a more general sphere of indefinite astonishment at the spiritual power He displayed. Under such an impression did Josephus write of Christ.3 But within the circle of the recipient minds of the elect, the impression left by Christ’s personality was a bright and blessed one, condemning the old life of sin, and implanting the new life of love and righteousness. Here, then, the remembrance of Christ was a continual festival. In this form it must, according to its very nature, so outweigh and outlast, illuminate and purify, all the other remembrances of believers, and bring them into inward connection with itself, as to become the enlightening and penetrating principle of all those other remembrances. How could it indeed fail to become the principle of all the remembrances of Christians, when it became the principle of their whole Christian life? The historical word, by which the Gospel narrative has been handed down to us, corresponds with the historical power of the Gospel life. These two aspects of Christ’s continual operation are fundamentally identical. Consequently, the Church may either be regarded as a lasting and real remembrance of Him, or as the continuous operation of His life. As the moon, though a thousand times more distant, is nearer to our room than the lamp in a neighbour’s house, because its effect is a thousand times more powerful, and as the sun again is infinitely nearer than the moon, though with respect to space only, it again is situated at an immensely greater distance,1 so is Christ, though so far removed from us as to His glorified body by the external relations of space, infinitely nearer to us by the power of His operation than any man in our immediate neighbourhood; nay, He is with us, and through faith. He is in us, by the power of this His operation. These are the ideal relations of space. So also the geography of the spirit and of love has very different estimates of nearness and distance on earth from the geography of mathematical science. And that which is here said of space, is equally applicable to time. According to the Christology of space, Christ is said to be here, in virtue of the effect He produces, just as the sun is said, in virtue of what it effects, to be in and on the earth. According to the Christology of time, or according to the chronology of the Christian mind, the Church, when celebrating the remembrance of the Lord, and proclaiming it to others, rightly says, ‘He was but just now here, and He will soon come again: He comes quickly.’ The Christology of time is not understood by those2 who say that the apostles were misled by an enthusiastic excitement, in their announcements that the Lord’s coming was at hand. They were but giving expression to that elevation of feeling, wherewith the mature Christian, as an heir of God and of eternity, looks upon time, so that to him, as to his God, according to the measure of his spirituality, a thousand years are as one day. In this respect, the highest conception of time may be explained by a still higher. The glorious entry of Luther into Worms is fresher and nearer to us, than the more modern disputes of Lutheran theologians; and Hermann the Cheruscan seems but just now to have led the Germans to victory over Rome, while the last trial for witchcraft seems already quite ancient history. But the memory of Christ, of His death and victory, surpasses all other human remembrances in ever youthful freshness. The ever-enduring Church of Christ is His ever-enduring memorial. But we have here more especially in view that remembrance of Him still living in the historic word, which must have originated in the apostolic Church. This remembrance must of necessity be proportionate to the unique effect produced by Christ’s life, and therefore infinitely profound and powerful, fully developed and definite, and, in its totality or completeness, blessed and sacred. The men whom Christ had apprehended, might forget everything else; but Him, His work, His deeds, His sufferings, the manifestations of His glory, they could not forget. The Spirit of Christ, poured out upon them at the conclusion of His work, was the unifying principle which connected all their remembrances, the vital element which renewed and preserved them. They must have felt themselves impelled by the mighty effect Christ’s life had upon them, to be ever recalling to each others’ memories, and proclaiming to the world, the great facts upon which it rested. Their life was blended with the Gospel history; their reconciliation to God and their salvation were identified with it; hence the glorious treasure of their Gospel reminiscences could not possibly fade. They saw in the life of the Lord Jesus the supreme miracle which had brought deliverance to the world: its facts, therefore, must have been continually filling them with silent, deep, and glorious emotion. ‘It was about the tenth hour,’ says John, when relating his first meeting with Jesus (John 1:39). He could no more forget the hour, than a mother could forget that wherein her child had been born into the world. Mary kept all the sayings which glorified her Saviour-Son, in her heart. ‘We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard,’ declared the apostles, before the Sanhedrim. No man can be hindered from proclaiming those great, most certain, and most glorious experiences, in which his own spiritual life originated, and by which it has continued to grow.1 Hence the preaching of the apostles was a giving vent to those words of joy which gushed forth from the abundance of their own animated reminiscences. It has of late been asserted that the apostles did not set forth the Gospel history, but only announced the dogmas of Christianity. Evangelical metaphysics perhaps? But the very first dogma of Christianity-the Word was made flesh-is also an historical fact. And therefore the sublimity and vigour of apostolic teaching consisted in the fact, that they proclaimed the word of Christ in its living union with facts; or, in other words, that the facts of His life, and especially of His death and resurrection, were set forth in the ideality of His word; these being the two parts of the living unity, in which this teaching was delivered to our faith. Certainly these two great facts, the death and resurrection of Christ, formed the key-note of apostolic testimony. But could the death of Christ have obtained its own special importance to their hearers, if they had not also depicted the chief features of His life? And could they have represented His resurrection as a certain fact, if they had not also narrated His subsequent appearances? It is certain that the Evangelists made it a part of their task to hand down copious details of this kind. Whence, then, should they have derived their materials, if not from the communications of the witnesses who held immediate intercourse with the Lord? These witnesses were the living Gospel; the Church, with which the most copious, the clearest, and brightest reminiscences of Jesus were as entirely one as the scent of a fresh-blown rose is one with the rose. Those writers who, in our days, are beginning to deny all certainty and trustworthiness to apostolic tradition with respect to the life of Jesus, seem to have lived so long in the region of modern literature and periodicals, where one wave so quickly swallows up another, where the latest novelty so rapidly fades before another, and where one point of view is so hastily abandoned for another, as to have gradually lost the power of forming a clear conception of the fervour, uniqueness, and power of the apostolic memory. As children of time, serving the temporal god, the process-god, with a memory revolving in constant change of impressions, about the feverish unrest of an unstable heart, they are the very antipodes to those happy men who, living by the power of Christ’s Spirit with Him in His eternity, preserved in the tranquil depths and fervent emotions of their hearts, and in constant sabbatic peace, the most divine and solemn remembrance of His life, His death, and His glorification; in whose inner life the facts of the New Testament ever continued novelties, retaining the original brilliancy of blooming flowers, of molten silver, or of the eternal thoughts of God. In our days of worldliness and newspapers, the contents of the memory are ever more and more perplexed and saddened by the unrest of the heart; while the great experiences and remembrances of the apostolic Church maintained their imperishable brightness and beauty, because they were founded upon a heart-life penetrating to the depths of eternity, reposing on God, filled with all the fulness of Christ. note While we may agree with Hug (Einleit. ins N. T.), that the apostles did not perhaps in public assemblies so recount the history of Christ’s life according to its circumstances and sequence, that their statements could have been formed into historical books; it does not follow that in their instruction, ‘so far as it was merely historical,’ they limited themselves ‘to the sufferings of the Lord, His death, and that pillar of their doctrine, His resurrection.’ When Weisse appeals, in support of this view (die ev. Gesch. p. 21, &c.), to the small amount of Gospel narrative contained in the apostolic Epistles, the great difference between the oral agency of the apostles, by which they founded churches, and the written agency, by which they built them up, is not sufficiently borne in mind.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 20: 02.011. PART II ======================================================================== PART II THE MORE GENERAL RECORDS OF THE LIFE OF THE LORD JESUS ======================================================================== CHAPTER 21: 02.012. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I general survey The special historical records of the life of Jesus are the four Gospels. They form the centre of all evangelical testimony to Jesus, and exhibit the direct impression made by His wondrous personality in the sphere of literary composition. But this centre was no isolated phenomenon. The contents of the Gospels are assumed, required, and supported by the whole of the New Testament, and especially by the Acts of the Apostles, just as the historical books of the Old Testament are assumed by the contents of the Psalms and the Prophets. Roses and lilies do not grow rootless out of the earth: as little does the testimony of the theocratically inspired life of the Old Testament, or the life of Christ in the New Testament. The whole New Testament, however, may again be looked upon as only the conclusion and climax of a more general organism, namely, of the Holy Scripture. The Old Testament does not contain its conclusion within itself. They who would separate the New Testament from the Old, have this enigma to solve, how it happened that the robust oak thus suddenly stopped short in the midst of its growth-why it terminated in a gnarled stump, instead of attaining its appropriate leafy crown? The essential contents of the Bible are accredited by the two greatest religious phenomena which ever appeared, and which have endured to the present day, viz., Christianity and Judaism. That line of theocratic Monotheism which forms the key-note in the history of the religious life of all mankind, leads, both by its bright side, Christianity, and its reverse side, Talmudism, to the high region of biblical facts and institutions. But it is not so easy to infer the nature of the former blossom from the broken shell of the fruit, as from the fruit itself. The Christian Church, as the fruit of that wondrous blossom, the facts and teachings of the Bible, is a great and lasting testimony to their truth. As in the vegetable world, the kingdom of the flowering plants rests upon that of the leafy, so is it itself again the bright circle supported by the darker ground of the general religious consciousness of mankind. It is not possible to imagine the present world deprived of the Christian Church, without regarding it as maimed, deprived of its powers of development, and orphaned. Thus the four Gospels form the centre of a series of spheres indissolubly linked with each other. If the jewel is torn out of a brilliant ring, the setting becomes worthless and unmeaning; and it is thus with the Gospel history, with regard to its setting. Since, however, the life of the Lord Jesus is thus connected with those more general circles of life which concentrically surround it, it must have left a more or less distinct impression on all these enclosing circles. And they may thus all be called records of the life of Jesus. The order, then, of the general records of the life of Jesus appears to be as follows: (1.) The New Testament; (2.) the Old Testament; (3.) the theocracy, especially the Christian Church; (4.) the religious life of the human race. note The bright side of the history of mankind stands fundamentally in the closest connection with the glorious history of the Gospel, while even its dark side points towards it; and when once the scientific knowledge of that great organism, humanity, is as mature as the knowledge of animal organisms, an organic prophecy, pointing to the Gospel history, will at length be discovered in every greater fragment of history. Thus, e.g., cannibals, as representing the deepest degradation of humanity, furnish a significant hint of the compass of the human gamut. As the depth of the water on a rock-bound coast represents with tolerable accuracy the height of the overhanging precipices, so do those depths of degradation point upwards past the middle regions of civilisation, to a heavenly perfection of humanity. In a narrower sphere, the same inference may be made of Israel’s crowning point, from Israel’s degradation. Many important nations have a far less extended scale of spiritual variation than the most important: the former are of average talent; the latter exhibit, as it were, hills and valleys in giant-like masses, as, e.g., the German nation. The Israelitish nation is, so to speak, a nation with two rows of keys. This applies in a higher degree to mankind in general. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 22: 02.013. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the new testament The history of the life of Jesus is accredited, in its leading features, not only by the four Gospels, but by the whole New Testament. The book of the Acts of the Apostles continues the history of Christianity in the same tone, and in the same spirit, in which the Gospels relate the history of Christ. The three chief incidents of His life, the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, it distinctly brings forward. The disciples of the Gospels here figure as apostles; but even in their new condition, their individual characters are quite in accordance with the characteristics attributed to them in the Gospels, and the most significant are conspicuous. The miracles of Jesus are repeated in the miracles of His disciples, even to the greatest, the raising of the dead. But even from the apostolic Epistles and the Apocalypse, we obtain a distinct impression of the life of Jesus,-an impression, moreover, which is enriched with many special features. According to the teaching of these apostolic writings, Christ was the Son of David according to the flesh (Romans 1:3-4), the second man, the Lord from heaven, a quickening spirit (1 Corinthians 15:45-47), born of a woman (Galatians 4:4). His teaching is unfolded in the teaching of the apostles (1 Corinthians 2:1-16), His miracles, in the miraculous gifts of the primitive Church (1 Corinthians 12:1-31), His great conflict with the carnal mind of His people, in the experience of His witnesses (2 Corinthians 2:15, &c.), the institution of the Lord’s Supper in St Paul’s description of the same (1 Corinthians 11:1-34); while His crucifixion and resurrection form the all-pervading elements of the apostolic Epistles, as being the most essential incidents of His life, of Gospel preaching, and of Christian experience. The form of Christ is thus apparent in the apostolic writings; and they who would oppose the essential features of the Gospel narrative, have to deal not with the four Gospels only, but with the whole New Testament. Even the Epistles of the New Testament are Gospels. note In his essay, Die Glaubwürdigkeit der evangelischen Geschichte, p. 372, &c., Tholuck, with reference to Strauss’s criticism of the life of Jesus, expresses himself, concerning the relation of the representation of the life of Jesus in the four Gospels to its representation in the New Testament in general, in the following words: ‘In passing from the Gospels to the Acts we might have expected to find no more mention of miracles. We do not, however, meet with so abrupt a cessation, but find, on the contrary, that the Acts and apostolic Epistles, together with the Gospel narratives, form one continuous series, and that a continuous series of the miraculous. Christ is not depicted like the sun in tropical countries, which rises without a dawn and sets without a twilight; but as a thousand years of prophecy preceded Him, so do miracles follow Him, and the forces which He first evoked continue to work for a time, with greater or less activity. Hence, if criticism would banish the sun from the world, it has still to deal with the dawn and the twilight.’ The forces which Christ evoked do not, indeed, continue their activity only ‘for a time,’ but till the end of the world, and beyond it. It was, however, for a time that they maintained the first form of their activity, a form breaking violently through the old life, and therefore miraculous.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 23: 02.014. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III the old testament The picture which the scriptures of the Old Testament furnish of the Messiah, is drawn with great clearness and boldness. Though single features only are given in the several delineations, yet are these all founded on, and developed from the same general view. In the Old Testament scriptures Christ is the end of the divine promise, and the object of human desire. The older theology delighted to find Him in the more obscure passages of the Old Testament writings, e.g., in the plural form, ‘Let us make man’ (Genesis 1:26), in the ‘sight of the Lord’ (Deuteronomy 4:37), in ‘the angel of the covenant’ (Malachi 3:1), and similar passages. Modern rational theology, however, would scarcely any longer admit the existence of an expectation of a Messiah, and especially of a suffering Messiah, in the Old Testament, until suddenly the wind veered round to another quarter, and then it was said that Christ was in the Old Testament, but scarcely a shadow of Him in the New; that the Christian Church had derived the miraculous element contained in her representation of her founder from the Old Testament delineations of the Messiah. Thus were the stem and flower alternately denied, while the fact was lost sight of, that history is as little accustomed as nature to exhibit such monstrous instances of incompleteness. But when once a clear notion of the nature of the Christ of the Old Testament is arrived at, a real fulfilment of the expectation there held out will be demanded. The coming of Messiah is involved in that constant reaching forth to things to come, which is the very spirit of the Old Covenant. This covenant not merely exhibits the contrast between the divine and the human, but also that interaction of both, that approach, that mutual grasp, the consummation of which was to be their real union in the God-man. The patriarchal promise advances from the promise of the blessing to the promise of the individual who was to bring the blessing, the Prophet; while even the law, much as it appears to deal chiefly with the outward letter, is founded upon the idea of human nature as it ought to be, and therefore upon the God-man. Typicism sets forth, in shadowy form, not only the work of atonement, but also the Atoner Himself; the official anointing designates each aspect of Christ’s life, His prophetic, priestly, and kingly nature; and from the descriptions of the Messiah in the Old Testament, especially in the writings of the prophets, may be gathered a full delineation of Himself. The same spirit, e.g., which reproves the zealous Elijah (1 Kings 19:10, &c.), appears in the declaration wherewith Christ rebukes the zealous disciples (Luke 9:55). When we find ideal traits of such peculiarity and delicacy, from the Old Testament, incarnate in the life of Christ, we can no longer feel surprised at the New Testament incarnation of the more general features of the Old Testament revelation. Christ’s birth by the Spirit, His holy life, gentleness, fearful conflict, bitter sufferings, death, victory, and glory; the reconciliation, renewal, and transformation of the world; these are those broad features of the Messiah, in which the New Testament is one with the Old, the fulfilment with the hope. Yes, we find in the prophets, as in all the sacred Scriptures, the blossoms of the real incarnation of God, afterwards to ripen into the perfect fruit. No impersonal Messiah, no merely general idea of the perfectibility of man, could follow the Isaiah of actual history. If we could imagine the New Testament lost for a time, a theological Cuvier would be able to infer its existence and general nature from the peculiarities of the Old. Such scientific diviners were the prophets. From the great ones of former times, from Abraham, Moses, and David, they could infer the coming glory of Christ. It is a contradictory and unhistorical procedure, arising from the want of a sense for the organic, both in nature and history, to make an unchristian Old Testament precede the Christianity of the New, or a mythological New Testament follow the christological Old Testament. An assumption of so monstrous a kind is in its very nature a mutilated romance, a necessary development from the pantheistic notion of the universe; while, on the other hand, the recognition of the organic connection between the Old and New Testaments, is the result of the recognition of an eternal, personal God, and consequently of Jehovah, the God presiding with consistent freedom over all history. notes 1. It is only in their mutual connection that either the Old or the New Testament can be thoroughly understood. The Talmudist separates the New Testament from the Old, as a false excrescence, and idolizes the Old exclusively, teaching that it has always been in the bosom of God. Thus the living God, ever cherishing the Son in His inmost nature, becomes to him but a kind of grey-bearded rabbi, employed, in the eternity before the world, in drawing up the holy book, the Thorah. (Compare De Wette, Einl. in das Alte Testament, p. 19.) The antipodes of the Talmudists, in their view of the canon, are the ancient and modern Gnostics, who thought to purify and elevate the canon by separating the New Testament from the Old, and denying the identity of the God of the New with the Jehovah of the Old Testament. The ancient Gnostics could not appreciate the Old Testament, because they were infected with the dualistic view of the universe, which regarded matter as evil. In this respect, the pure ideality in which the Old Testament represents creation as the product of the Word of God, was abhorrent to them, as were also all its consequents, especially the real incarnation of the Son of God. It is by the same error that the modern Gnostics are led into misconceptions of the Old Testament. In the fact that they explain sin as a result of finity, and see in individual definiteness only the limitation of the spirit, we recognise the old dualism in its subtlest form and most virulent distinctness. The New Testament God, however, of whom they form conceptions in such contrast with the eternal Jehovah, is in reality the impersonal, evanescent phantom of religious sentimentality, cherishing within himself the evanescent universe, a counterpart to the rigid rabbi with his ever rigid Thorah in his bosom. According to the Talmudists, the Son of God is a perpetual law-book; according to the Gnostics, a continuous metamorphosis of the world. The latter are entirely ignorant of the simple law, that the God of revelation, for the very reason that He is ever the same, must assume a varying form in presence of the varying degrees in which the religious consciousness is developed. The same human father, of whom the boy of ten years old says, How unkind my father is! appears to the matured young man of twenty, a father who, even in his chastisements, was but maintaining the discipline of love. The more modern enemies of the Old Testament have especially set themselves against the circumstance of thunder being ascribed to Jehovah, overlooking the fact that thunder is always an actual fact; that it is quite natural to ascribe this phenomenon to the all-effecting God; and that, finally, it is only the difference between regarding thunder as sent by God with intentional reference to some event, or as sent by Him without such intentional reference. 2. Old Testament Christology has hitherto suffered from many deficiencies. The christological element has been chiefly or exclusively sought in significant particulars, instead of recognized in the entire development of Old Testament life. Secondly, the process of formation of the New Testament, or christological life in the Old Testament, its gradations, and, consequently, its organization, have not been duly estimated. And, thirdly, it has been specially forgotten that this process of formation is not a merely figurative one, exhibiting the dogmatic image of Christ, but, at the same time, a substantial one, consummated in the actual God-man. In the latter respect Christology has been much injured by Nestorian views, which have not duly estimated the manner in which the life of Christ Himself was gradually introduced by the consecrations of the lives of many, found in the line of the Old Testament genealogy of Mary. Misconceptions of the relation of the Old Testament to the New have been entertained in modern times, especially by Schleiermacher (see his Glaubenslehre, vol. ii. p. 346, and other places) and Hegel (see his Religions-Philosophie, vol. ii.) ======================================================================== CHAPTER 24: 02.015. SECTION IV ======================================================================== SECTION IV the theocracy, especially the christian church In viewing the theocracy as the historical development of the kingdom of God, it may be regarded under three principal forms. First, it appears in the growth of its peculiar life, as this advances towards full maturity. This maturity is manifested by the circumstance of the ripened fruit of the sacred organism bursting its decaying shell, and wholly freeing itself from it. The sacred plant is the Old Testament Church; the shell, Talmudism; the fruit, the Christian Church. The Messiah being then indisputably the central point of the theocracy, these three forms of religious life must of necessity all point, by decided christological indications, to the history of Christ’s life. In fact, the preliminaries of this history appear even in such particulars as the Old Testament assumes. The first fundamental law of Old Testament history is this, that the kingdom of God is founded by distinguished and chosen individuals. It is to such individuals that the Lord says, ‘I give people for thy life’ (Isaiah 43:4). The theocracy does not reckon the greatness of humanity by heaping numbers upon numbers, nor by the combination of ‘millions of perukes or socks.’ It is not the ant-hill in which undistinguished equality prevails, but the beehive in which all is done with reference to a mystically governing queen, which is the type of the theocratic ideal of human nature. The second characteristic of the theocracy is, that it regards history from the point of view afforded by its unity, whether that unity is considered with respect to its extension in the contemporary history of various nations, or its duration during periods. Much has been said concerning the isolation of Israel in the Old Testament; but it must not be ignored, that this isolation is the struggle of the morbid monotheistic spirit of Israel with the polytheistic nations-a struggle decidedly demanding and announcing the union of other nations with Israel, while the heathen nations, in spite of all their intermingling, pursued their several courses side by side, without any feeling that they were destined for union. This theocratic view of the unity of history points towards the point of union. Thirdly, the theocracy had a deep conviction of being an organism, the purpose of whose development it was to exhibit the formation of true religion and its progress towards perfection. The prophets are full of distinctions between the various gradations of religious life under the Old Testament, and their special vocation is the announcement of its consummation, the manifestation of the kingdom of God in and through the God-man. Finally, the theocracy also lays great stress upon the ironical contrast in which the arrangements of the divine economy stand to the assumptions of ordinary worldly understanding. God, for example, chooses the little to represent the eternal; the mean, despised nation of the Jews becomes the instrument of revelation; the obscure country of Palestine, and of this country the poor province of Galilee, and of this province the despised town of Nazareth, is the theatre of its highest miracles. A worldling would certainly not have chosen ‘a corner in Galilee’ for the manifestation of such things, but rather the great Mongolian steppe, where the ‘specimens of the genus’ manage their horses in countless troops. This fundamental principle of the theocracy, the manifestation of the great in the little, leads the religious sense upon the track of the Nazarene, the Crucified. Even Talmudism, that decayed husk of the theocratic life, the obverse of the history of the New Testament kingdom of God, is forced to bear testimony, by distinct allusions, to the history of Christ. The still prevailing expectation of a personal Messiah is the soul which holds together, keeps on its feet, and drives through the world, the dry skeleton of the wandering Jew. The power of the stumbling-stone may be inferred from the force with which it has hurled the unhappy nation through all the world, and crushed and scattered its members. The fate of the Jewish people bears the impress of the tremendous conflict they have waged against their destiny, their guilty resistance of their vocation, and the glory of this vocation. Thus their fate also leads us to infer the fulness and holiness of that manifestation of God in actual history, at which they stumbled, and against which they fell. Finally, the dead formalism of Talmudism finds its counterpart in the Christian festival of Whitsuntide, and in the Christian Church. The Church is, moreover, the expanded Gospel, because it bears the life of Christ within itself. All its vital powers are in their nature one, and point, in this oneness, to the oneness of their source, the one perfect personality of the God-man. They are also all ideally real, whenever their nature as matured powers is fully manifested; and as such they cannot be the product of an idealistic imaginative school, but must be the result of a perfect, potent, ideally real life, perpetuated in the establishment of a Church. These vital powers have, moreover, been overgrown by certain particulars of merely ecclesiastical remembrance; yet even under this form they point to as many particulars of Gospel history. In the glorification of the blessed Virgin, e.g., is contained a perpetual announcement of the miraculous birth of Christ. The great incidents of the life of Christ, everywhere appear in the festivals, dogmas, and vital powers of the Church. How decidedly does the Church’s joy in the midst of affliction, her glorying in the cross, point to the death of Christ, its influence and glorious results! Can the perpetual testimony of the Christian Church to the resurrection and ascension of Christ, by its assurance of victory over death, by its hope of the glory of the future life, be mistaken? When we consider, further, the divine vital forces of the Church, in their opposition to the fashion and notions of the world, we are constrained to wonder at the might of that spiritual irruption, with which they burst forth from their fountain to conquer the resistance of the ancient world, and are consequently led to the conclusion, that they could only have become matters of history through a series of miracles; just as a lofty mountain stream can only fight its appointed course through a country by means of a series of waterfalls. Thus do even our institutions for the blind, our hospitals, and asylums point to that glorious chaplet of miracles by which Christ was surrounded in the energizing effect of His miraculous life. Finally, all may be summed up in the one remark, that the life of the Church of Christ is a manifestation of the presence of the Holy Ghost. This presence of the Spirit of God, however, as the Holy Spirit, assumes the perfection of the Gospel life in its fulness, its totality, its infinite depth, and pure reality. An idealistic immature religious life, a life terminating in the bud and never advancing beyond its first beginnings, might announce the presence of the Spirit of God, but the Spirit is not manifested as the Holy Spirit, till the manifestation of the Son is perfected. How could the return of the Son to the Father take place, before His coming from the Father into the world was perfected? Not till the manifestation of the Son was completed, could that free life, with which all the incidents of His life are identified, flow forth to sanctify the Church, that is, to lead her back with the Son out of the world into union with God. Thus the Church, as the stream of divine life, testifies to its sublime source, the life of Jesus (John 7:39). notes 1. The separation which exists between Israel and other nations, expresses its inward relation to those nations in the same manner as the separation of the Christian Church from her excommunicated members expresses her suffering for them, and her desire for reunion with them in the communion of Christ. And as, in our days, a spirit of moral slumber makes men find more humanity in the rude, natural intercourse of the heathen nations, than in that separation between Israel and the world, so also do they find more Christianity in the moral laxity of the Church than in her exhibition of social Christian decision. The notion of discipline seems as alarming as though the very alphabet of the rights of a community were past comprehension. 2. A counterpart to the active religious penetration of Israel, by means of which it embraced Monotheism, is furnished by the passive religious penetration of the ancient Indians, which produced the nobler forms of the ancient Pantheism. And as an historical confiscation of the privileges of the Israelitish Monotheists is exhibited in the homeless Jews, so is a similar event exhibited in the case of the Indian Pantheists in the homeless gypsies. The ideal liberty of modern Pantheists was long ago realized in the wandering and forest life of the gypsies. 3. On the import of Christ’s death upon the cross, and of the founding of His Church thereupon, with respect to the fulness and peculiarity of the Gospel history, compare the striking treatise of Ullmann, What does the establishment of the Christian Church by a crucified man assume? in his collection of shorter writings, entitled Historisch oder Mythisch. 4. When, in modern philosophy, the Spirit is regarded merely as the Holy Spirit, the high significance of the successive gradations in which the Spirit manifests His life, is overlooked in the general unity of spiritual existence. The creative Spirit who forms a stone in nature, is certainly identical with the Holy Spirit who leads a Christian heart from worldliness to union with God. But it is only in the latter work that we see the sublime summit of the Spirit’s development, the whole glory of His nature as the Sanctifier. The distinctions in the biblical delineation of the Spirit rest upon depths of perception and definiteness of view which philosophy, with a somewhat ambiguous absence of presentiment, often entirely overlooks. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 25: 02.016. SECTION V ======================================================================== SECTION V the spiritual life of mankind The spiritual life of mankind everywhere manifests an irrepressible attraction towards great personalities. Everywhere in the history of mind there is seen in full activity the impulse to behold human nature in its heroic proportions, to see the scattered characteristics of human power united in representations of great men, to be internally united with ‘the million’ by the strong organic centres and heads of the human circle, to contemplate the honours of the race in its higher representatives. The anticipation is everywhere prevalent, that each new great man will bring a new blessing, new help, new comfort (Genesis 5:29),-that deliverance must be born into the world in the depths of elect personal life. The highest expectations are entertained of the very elect: it is they who are to declare the mysteries of the divine life; nay, the glory of God’s majesty is one day to burst forth victoriously from the most perfect and exalted human life. This universal gravitation of minds, attracting them towards great men, is the deepest and most natural basis of all that is christological in mankind at large. In its development and purification, it is more and more perceived to be a decided desire for the highest and most finished personality,-a desire to behold the human race in its spiritual unity, in its true and glorious destiny, in the fulness, beauty, and liberty of its sanctified spiritual power, in complete union with God, and in all the dignity and blessedness resulting from this union. This christological feature of human nature may be recognised under manifold forms. The heart’s need of uniting and surrendering itself to a hero of God, to one nobler than itself, to an intellectual prince, and of becoming rich and strong in him, has been a thousand times perverted by levity, and the intoxication of vanity, into the most credulous and most miserable absurdity. Nay, absurdity itself is but the corrupt and perverted form of the need and destination of thousands to be united, saved, and glorified by the true Lord and Prince of their life. It appears in the wild delusions of the thousands who plunge themselves into the snare of any splendid error, as soon as the sound of its decoy is heard; it brings rich booty to adventurers, fanatics, and conquerors; it drives whole swarms of deluded and devoted enthusiasts, who failed to recognize the true, to every false Messiah; and it is the sphere in which the antichristian and demoniac powers will reap their harvest (Matthew 24:24). Such a disposition of human nature must be fatal to it, if there be no salutary object to correspond with it. Men must be ruined by the magic attraction of brilliant but evil genius, if the attraction of the good do not prove more powerful still. They must be torn to pieces by the various attractions they experience from the glorious or strong personalities within whose influence they are placed, unless they be delivered from all lesser sympathies by one preponderating attraction, and be thus enabled to attain to unity of purpose and life. They must, finally, be irrecoverably lost to liberty, if this one personality be not identical with truth, righteousness, and love, and if surrender thereto be not the perfect emancipation of the spirit. Thus does this propensity, even in its perversion, point to the personality of Christ; for the very existence of a propensity capable of leading its subject into the arms of his destroyer, has by its very nature a strong reference to the Redeemer and Deliverer. None but the Prince over all the spiritual kings of the earth, could free all nations from the magic ties of all impure and unholy spirits. The effect of His agency is at once both constraint and liberty, for it is the effect of eternal love, of the divine Spirit. As the earth, during the polar night, seeks to compensate for the want of daylight by the. production of the aurora borealis; so does every nation, impelled by a yearning after Christ, emit, during its night of heathen darkness, some glimmer of christological light. It was from this visionary impulse towards the dawn, that oracles, priests, lawgivers, and founders of religions arose. ‘The nations waited for Him.’ When the sun sets, the stars appear by thousands in the clear sky. If it were possible to conceal for a time from the world the actual life of Jesus, thousands of stars in the heaven of spiritual life would forthwith bear testimony to His image, yearnings after Him, remembrances of Him, promises concerning Him. No sooner does a critic succeed in impressing some circle of credulous enthusiasts with the notion that he has cast a shade upon the sun of Christ’s life in the Gospels, than aspirants forthwith arise by dozens, and offer themselves, as transcending all their predecessors, as founders of new religions, or even as new redeemers, to fill up the supposed vacancy. As counterfeits, they are themselves condemned to testify to the original. And in Christ’s Church, the image of His existence shines all the more brightly and gloriously in the hearts of His people as soon as such eclipses of His name occur. The sense entertained by the human race of the dignity of prophets, high priests, and kings, is the sense for those exalted gifts of the Spirit which were to unite heaven with earth. Actual endowments, great characters, are the appropriate objects of this sense. From the interaction of the needs of the many and the gifts of the few have these high offices originated, under God’s all-ordaining government Each of these offices, however, requires the other, and none of them is perfect till their union and reality are complete. The true prophet must devote himself to the God who makes him the medium of His revelations; but thus he is at the same time a true priest. The priest who offers himself to God as a sacrifice, attains to a resurrection; and in this resurrection is a true king. If, then, the three offices are in their perfection one, no deep prophetic saying can be heard, not a breath of the priestly spirit can be emitted, not a ray of kingly majesty can shine forth, on earth, without involving a reference to the one personality of Christ. It was the obscure and arbitrary longing for the manifestation of this unity of the divine-human life, which led the ancient Roman to the apotheosis of Cæsar, and the medieval Roman to an idolatrous veneration of the Pope. Thus the deep need felt by human nature to do homage to a superior, to find the depths and sublimities of life and its repose in great personalities, is a general prophecy of the God-man. This general reference to Christ seems, indeed, as yet to furnish no distinct image of the life of Jesus by an indication of any of its definite features. But when we analyse this sense of human nature for a higher personality, we shall perceive highly significant lines, appropriately filling up the general image of the anticipation of Christ. For, first, this homage-paying impulse is evidently, in the majority of instances, a sense for the worker of miracles, and even for the miraculous. Even the dark world of magic is a mutilated and obscure anticipation of that life, in which the rude materiality of the world vanishes before the brightness and power of the pure spirit, which understands and controls it according to its destiny for the Eternal Word. But when, in their myths, the ancient heathen often represented the great heroes of spiritual life as sons of virgin mothers, conceived under the consecration or by the agency of a divine power, they expressed the truth, that the relations of the divine Spirit to the formation of separate individuals are infinitely various-that there are unhallowed, hallowed, and more hallowed births; and they were also tending towards the supreme, the most hallowed birth, in which spiritual agency and human cultivation, creation and baptism, the process of formation in time and the existence from eternity, were to meet in one.1 But this sense for the miraculous is merely the sense for the Benefactor, the Deliverer, the Redeemer. There is in human nature an irrepressible tendency to hope for coming deliverers and benefactors. Poetry is full of tutelary spirits, helping genii, or angels. And what are all such subjective representations of angels, but a kind of ‘second sight,’ by which men behold their Redeemer? And just as plainly does a sense for the death of Christ on the cross, and its significance, show itself among mankind. We have already spoken of tragedy. Tragedy recognises the meaning of sin, of the curse, and of the catastrophe; and points to that wonderful relation in humanity, found to exist almost from house to house, that the innocent should suffer for the guilty, that the noblest heart in every human circle always bears the greatest part of that circle’s burden, that the full punishment of a family sin usually falls on a comparatively innocent head. By her representations of minor catastrophes and relative atonements, she leads to the idea of the great universal catastrophe of humanity, and the real and absolute atonement involved therein. Tragedy, in its christological meaning, opposes all those views of history and Christianity which would, with convenient superficiality, steal past the cross of Christ; while man’s proneness to be deeply moved and strangely elevated by tragic emotion, shows him to be fitted to experience and to discern both judgment and atonement in the great and sacred sufferings of one man. Tragic poetry has not, indeed, been the product of the intellectual life of all cultivated nations, but the need of sacrifice has; and the import of sacrifice has ever been justly viewed in its reference to the import of the death of Christ. Even in those horrible sacrifices which consciousness of guilt extorted from the excited frenzy of the heathen in the worship of Moloch, in the self-inflicted tortures of the fakeers, and in that most deeply degenerate form of the felt need of an atonement, self-murder, may be seen the actings of that spiritual impulse, which entertained the presentiment that dissolution of life would procure remission of guilt before God’s judgment-seat; and which, even in its darkest delusions, was tending towards the reality of an act of sacrifice, in which victim and priest, divine decree and human self-surrender, or, in other words, obedience and sacrifice, the suffering of an individual and the suffering of mankind, judgment and atonement, death and victory over death, are miraculously blended. But if human nature could in its dreams and fictions thus forebode, and in its feverish delusions even rave of, the great atoning death, an obscure notion of a resurrection also could not but run through its mental life and the utterances of that life. Accordingly, we find that all nations have been inclined above all things to doubt the utter death of those great or terrible individuals who have either cheered or disturbed their lives. When Nero died, it was said by both Christians and heathens, that he had only retired into obscurity; the Christians said, he would return as Antichrist. Of Napoleon it was said, long after his death, that he still was living in concealment, and would one day reappear. Frederic Barbarossa was to awaken and come forth gloriously from the tomb, in which he was but slumbering till the appointed time. In the myths too of the ancient nations, it was through the sufferings of death that heroes attained to the glorification of their lives (e.g., Hercules). But to pass into the sphere of ordinary actual life, let us ask, what does man’s dread of death really mean? Is it a merely instinctive feeling, such as is sometimes seen even in the lower animals? Or is it not rather evident, that this dread is the expression of a spiritual feeling, of the indignation and protest of personal consciousness, against the appearance of dissolution-that it cries for, and proclaims a resurrection in some place or other, while the various degrees of joy which have been felt in death, form an assent to that exalted summit, the victory over death, which the Gospel history records? Thus is the Gospel history surrounded by many concentric circles, in each of which the actual allusions to this history are either plainly or dimly perceived. Theology, in her relation to these general christological indications, seems still to occupy a position similar to that filled by natural philosophy, when fossil skeletons were taken for lusus naturæ. Her task, however, is to learn, like natural science, to infer the whole living organism from its fragmentary remains-the life of Christ from the separate fragments of christological allusion found among the human race. As the musical virtuoso can perceive the theme in almost every separate passage of a good composition, so will the Christian spirit learn to discern, with ever-increasing clearness, the theme of the world’s history in all its separate harmonies and discords. notes 1. The preceding remarks are but an attempt to point out the principal incidents of christological allusion to be met with in the common history of mankind. The thorough working out of this subject cannot but be promoted by the researches of Christian missionaries, and must, in return, be of the greatest importance in the thorough carrying on of missionary operations. Paul at Athens argued from matters granted by his hearers, and by them made ready to his hand. Arguments of a like kind arise from a sense of the general christological allusions found throughout the world. If these allusions are ignored, and mythologies esteemed to be dark to their very foundations,-if the nations are regarded as autochthones, and their religions as mere local superstitions with no allusions to aught besides,-we shall hardly enter into their circle of ideas. The star of the magi, as well as the altar to the unknown God, though too commonly considered isolated instances of subjective combination, are, in this respect, striking New Testament indications of a general heathen Christology, as well as clear directions in missionary work. Is it not evident, for example, that most nations go beyond their merely national consciousness, and express their union with the whole race of mankind in some legend or expectation? In one, some great alteration of circumstances is expected to arise from the East, in another, from the West. Most heathen religions, Mohammedanism not excluded, express a foreboding of their own dissolution. The expectation or announcement of mysterious heaven-sent men, who are to unite heaven and earth, is everywhere prevalent. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 26: 02.017. PART III ======================================================================== PART III THE HISTORIC RECORDS OF THE LIFE OF JESUS ======================================================================== CHAPTER 27: 02.018. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I the phenomenon of the four gospels At the head of the books of the New Testament stand four narratives, which in their relation to literature, to the civilization of the world, to history, to the Bible, to Christianity, and to each other, form but one single phenomenon. Considered merely as literary productions, they appear as compositions announcing, in a few pages, events, ideas, and doctrines which, as the principles of the Christian Church, were henceforth powerfully to affect, to animate, and to transform the world; compositions in which the humblest pens depict the mightiest matters in clear, simple, and effective strokes, and which have become the centres of a vast, an ever-increasing, and most noble, universal literature. Secular literature has a thousand times entered into competition with these books in the matter of style, and has, in many instances, exhibited greater distinctness of character, more correct models of narrative, of reflection, of poetry, of discourse. But there is a nobility in the naturalness of the Gospel style, which preserves it in perpetual vigour, while many more refined forms of literature have already become, as far as concerns their original power, obsolete; e.g., the descriptive narrative, the Ciceronian declamation, the machinery of gods and goddesses in poetry. The style of the Gospel narrative is everywhere more distinguished for wonderful conciseness than for copiousness; while with respect to its moral tone, we find ardent zeal manifested with such tranquillity, admiration expressed with such moderation, a sharp and determined opposition to all evil powers, and even to the devil himself, waged with a dignity so noble, that we can easily conceive how these pages have, even in their style, upheld to the world’s end the credit of the New Testament. The relation in which the four Gospels stand to secular history is an harmonious one, since they narrate facts which are not only recognized as historically true in their general features, but also fill up a blank, which, but for their presence, would exist in the midst of universal history, and involve every part of it in obscurity. Not only Josephus, but also the Roman historians who depict the times of Christ, know of His life, His world-famed death-the crucifixion, and its great result-the incipient formation of His Church. Of the inner relations of the life of Jesus, however, of its supernatural elements, they could of course, from their point of view, know nothing. The four Gospels occupy in the Bible a position midway between the prophetic writings and apostolic Epistles, and are indissolubly connected with both. They form a key to the Scriptures, the loss of which would render them but a closed sanctuary. When a contradiction is sought between the spirit of the Gospels and that of the prophets, or a discrepancy between the Pauline Christ and the evangelic Christ, the judgment must, in either case, have been warped by dwelling too much upon details. Christ, and the everlasting Gospel in Him, is the deep point of union towards which the prophets tend, from which the apostles proceed. The representation of the life of Jesus in the Gospels is in entire accordance with both the theocratic and the apostolic spirit.1 The apostolic Epistles appear in all their parts as developments, in which the historic Christ of the Gospels is made, by His Spirit, the life of mankind; and it is from them that we learn to appreciate the genuine and thorough Christianity of the four Gospels. The Evangelists, indeed, are not identical with Christ. They are not perfect. Their communications may be inexact and uncertain in details, as appears from comparing and testing their accounts. But their individual deficiencies are cancelled by the fulness of their totality. They bring forward in their narratives and representations nothing that is unchristian or inconsistent with the general effect of Christianity, though they have been most stringently tested and reviewed in this respect. The accusations which have been brought forward-as, for instance, the history of the Gadarene swine, the cursing of the fruitless fig-tree, and the like-have only served as proofs that the sublimity and refinement of the apostolic feeling for genuine Christianity has not been attained by those who make such accusations. What if Jesus, e.g., had forbidden the devils to enter the herd of swine? Would it not have been said that He thereby assumed an unusual authority in the land of the Gadarenes?2 (Comp. Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. ii. p. 42.) The primitive Christianity of the Gospels is exhibited not only in their abstinence from the fancies of apocryphal fictions, but also in their positive contents. The Evangelists had the courage to testify in the world to that great reality of which they were themselves assured. They are Christian because they simply exhibit Christ, the miraculous life in the centre of the world, and because the several miracles appear to them as but its natural result, the slender branches of the strong tree of that divine-human life. But their Christianity appears also in the fact, that they not only preserved His high deeds, but also His deep sayings. Thousands of pious souls would have feared to deliver these mighty sayings, pure and undiluted; e.g., the sayings, ‘Love your enemies;’ ‘If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out,’ &c. But the heroic stature of their minds caused them to appreciate the vigour, power, and purity of such wonderful teaching; and trusting to the interpreting Spirit, they despised the pretended offence of the uninitiated, and proved the maturity of their own Christianity by faithfully transmitting them in all their Christian fulness. Finally, when we consider the relation borne by the four Gospels to each other, we behold a mystery at which criticism has hitherto toiled in vain, and which cannot be fully solved until it is perceived that complete inspiration is so entirely one with perfect freedom of individuality, that the union of various witnesses in testifying to the truth of the Gospel, imperatively requires the most distinct individual diversity in their respective testimonies. This wonderful relation of diversity and unity is expressed in the title of the Gospels: Εὐαγγέλιον κατὰ Ματθαῖον, &c. (The Gospel according to Matthew, &c.) In each book we have the same Gospel according to a different individual view. In times when the Christian mind is in a natural and candid frame, the unity of the Gospel will be the prevailing subject of contemplation. It is thus that unprejudiced Christian feeling always deals with the Gospels. In times of more careful examination, diversities will be more closely observed. In times of unbelief, the delusion will be entertained that the diversity is so great as to destroy the unity. It is a very important matter to the military pedant, whether the heroes who are sent into the field wear gaiters of equal length or not! The unity of the Gospels is most strikingly manifested in the fact that even St Mark and St John, the Evangelists who differ the most widely from each other, do yet most evidently announce but one Gospel; their diversity in the fact that even St Matthew and St Mark, who the most closely resemble each other, maintain their respective originality. It has, indeed, been recently asserted of St John, that his Gospel does not so much exhibit the Christ of John as John the Christian.1 But in making this assertion, due allowance has not been made for those dynamic relations which prevail everywhere, and especially in the kingdom of God. If it were true that in the fourth Gospel St John had made himself more prominent than his Master, he would be no disciple of Christ, but an apostate, though an unconscious one, and the founder of a sect of his own. In this case, it might be said of him, in modern language, that he had gone beyond Christ. If St John conceived a more ideal Christianity than Christ, the latter must be degraded into his mere forerunner, and both, to be consistent with truth, must announce this fact. But when St John confesses to finding the whole originality of his Christianity in Christ, it is doing him injustice to discredit his assertion. If, then, Christ is the originator of his views, his representation of the life of Jesus does not essentially differ from that of St Mark. St Mark indeed forms, together with St Matthew and St Luke, a decided contrast to the Gospel of St John: they have a common tone, from which that of the latter is very different. But yet in this contrast the unity of the Gospel is unmistakable. On one side, we have the Son of man, the genuine formation of the Divine Spirit; on the other, the Son of God, the perfect manifestation in the flesh of human nature. There, the works of Christ manifested in rich abundance as the effects of His word; here His words appearing as the great deeds of His life and deciding His fate. There, the light-bringing day; here, the sacred light. The Sermon on the Mount points in truth to the same way of salvation as the discourse with Nicodemus; and the resurrection of Lazarus ranks as the highest fact of the kind with the raising of Jairus’ daughter, and of the widow’s son at Nain. How identical in all essential respects is Christ’s conflict with Judaism in the first three Gospels and in that of St John! If we turn our glance for a moment from the single to the synoptic Gospels, we behold the Christ of St John instituting the Lord’s Supper, while in St John’s Gospel, e.g., in the purification of the temple, we recognise the Christ of the Synoptists. Diversity is, however, quite as apparent as unity. The Synoptists have a peculiar manner of expression very different from that of St John. They relate, partially at least, the history of Christ’s childhood, while St John is occupied with His eternal existence before the world was; and two of them, viz., St Mark and St Luke, narrate His ascension, while St Matthew and St John suffer the Redeemer’s person to disappear in a final manifestation of His glory.1 The narratives of the Synoptists are rich in accounts of miracles, while St John relates such only as are most deeply important as demonstrations of the truth of the Gospel history. The former report such discourses of Christ as cast a light upon the ways of the world2 and the way to the Father, or the laws and relations of the kingdom of God in its development; St John, on the other hand, preserves those which relate to the centre of the kingdom of God, the personality of Christ, or the significance of His personality in its relations to God, to the world, and to believers. The synoptic Evangelists narrate the Lord’s more public agency and works, the scene of which was chiefly Galilee,1 and hence for the most part Galilean events: St John relates more especially the prominent features in the development of the Lord’s life, and those conflicts, both outward and spiritual, with pharisaic Judaism which were the occasion of His death; hence mostly scenes in Judea. While the former contemplate chiefly the history, the office, the work of Christ, His ministry and His sufferings in His work, St John collects those incidents in which the spiritual perfection, the abounding love, the kingly glory of Christ are most significantly displayed. Hence his peculiarity not only of form, but also of matter, results from an inward principle, while the difference of matter must also have been increased by the circumstance that John, according to ecclesiastical tradition, had regard to the three former Gospels in the composition of his own.2 Even the three first Gospels, with all their essential unity and similarity, manifest distinct originality in their composition and statements. Each displays its peculiarity in the choice and treatment as well as in the position of incidents. Thus, in every respect, each preserves its independence, its own free and fresh view of the subject. Their similarity, however, in matter, form, and expression is so very evident, that a reader seeking only the religious impression they produce, always thinks he is reading but one writing, one Gospel. By these remarkable relations have the four Gospels accredited themselves to His Church in all ages, as four great and independent testimonies, strengthened by their very peculiarities, to the life and miracles of the Lord Jesus Christ. note The relations borne by the four Gospels to each other have come under our notice in the present section, though the relations of the Gospels to the Evangelists have not yet been treated of. This subject, as also the distinctive characteristics of the several Gospels, will occupy us when we treat of the criticism of the Gospels. We are here only concerned with what is more immediately evident, viz., that an unprejudiced acquaintance with the Gospels confirms the following general conclusions concerning their mutual relation: 1. That with regard to their matter, they all form but one Gospel; 2. That with regard to their form, each Gospel must be considered as a distinctly original composition. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 28: 02.019. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the four gospels as primitive records of the life of christ The four Gospels, in the form in which we have them, may with perfect justice be pronounced to be credible historical and primitive records of the life of Jesus. They are literary representations presenting us with purely objective testimony; they are the products of a perfect, and therefore infinitely tranquil enthusiasm, in entire unison with the object which excited it. No secondary motive is found here to create a discord or awaken suspicion. Their form is the result of that entire surrender to the manifestations of the perfect image of God which was one with the most powerful subjective appropriation of the same. The purity with which they reflect, as instruments, the rich and glorious reality of the life of Christ, imparts to their moral aspect a nobility which must ever enhance their credibility. With princely magnanimity do they exhibit the essential, while they touch but very slightly upon the non-essential. They calculate upon receptive, like-minded readers, who can sympathize in their homage to what is heavenly and essential. Their very inaccuracies in non-essentials enhance the sublimity and trust-worthiness of their announcements. They seem to have been incapable of anticipating that critics might form their inaccuracies into a plea against the credibility of their evangelical testimony. Many a friend of the Gospel may have felt vexed that the Evangelists have not shown more lawyer-like exactness, for the sake of such observers as would take kings and emperors for beggars, if they met them in homely garments. But they themselves seem to have been, in this respect, very proud, or rather very free from care; and their carelessness may well be regarded as their noblest credential. They addressed themselves to the sincere minds of their fellow-believers, with a plain testimony according to their own views and most assured convictions, and delivered the treasure to them; on the other hand, they gave, by their sublime negligence and with a bold generosity, a portion also to that lawyer-like glance which is ever searching into statements to find erroneous views and contradictions. But how well does that portion of history which they describe as its central point fit in with universal history! This very fragment completes general history, clears up its obscurity, disentangles its intricacies, explains the curse resting on the world, and reveals its destiny. Thus these books are the most peculiar, the most universal of documents. They form also one-half of the New Testament, fitting into the other half like the severed halves of an apple. Christianity, moreover, recognises in them her primitive sacred records. By all these relations they are continually receiving fresh authentication, as well as by the relation in which they stand to each other. With respect to this mutual relation, the manner in which they corroborate each other recalls the poet’s words: ‘Kennst du das Haus, auf Saülen ruht sein Dach.’1 In our days an effort has been made to support the assumption that these four evangelic testimonies must of necessity cancel, or at least mutually weaken, each other. The contrary is, however, evident, viz., that by their mutual relations they attain the stability of an immovable edifice. For the relation between their discrepancies and accordances is so unique, that we are again and again forced to view them as four independent testimonies to one and the same thing; and, consequently, to each other. The wonderful nature of this connection, and its preservative effect, have not yet been sufficiently appreciated. It may be compared to the resisting force of a forest when maintaining itself against the storm. A tree standing alone is easily bent and broken by the wind, while a tree in the midst of a wood is kept upright by the common strength of the whole group. Thus do the four Gospels support each other in the sheltering neighbourhood of the other books of the Bible. Ordinary criticism offers the best proof of this fact. If a critic, for example, would attack the Gospel of St John, he tries to obtain help in this enterprise by acknowledging the authenticity of the three first Gospels. Thus, however, the Gospel of St John is but confirmed by means of its inward relation with the acknowledged books. At another time, the attack starts from the assumption that the Gospel of St John is the genuine record of the Gospel history, and the discrepancies between this and the synoptic Gospels are made grounds of suspicion against the latter. But even in this case, the effect of coincidence is too powerful: if St John is genuine, their matter is, in all essential points, authenticated. Again, St Matthew and St Luke are taken up, to the prejudice of St Mark. But the latter is so firmly rooted in matters common to all, that any peculiarity is but the greater proof of the independence of his testimony. If, on the contrary, St Mark’s is made the primitive Gospel at the expense of the other two, these each present peculiarities, and at the same time furnish complementary matter of sufficient importance to establish their respective originality, while by the matter which they have in common with St Mark, their authenticity is abundantly corroborated. These general remarks obtrude themselves on our notice when we contemplate the Gospels in their mutual relations as primitive records of the life of Jesus in presence of modern criticism. Criticism may try their authenticity, and in this way raise doubts requiring to be entered into in a thoroughly circumstantial and scientific manner; it may find a multitude of difficulties in separate passages, especially in the discrepancies between the Gospels; but when it tries to overthrow any one Gospel, as a whole, by means of another, it misconceives their strong and mysterious connection, and does but prepare its own defeat. The unity and conclusiveness of the Gospels are of so divine and intrinsic a nature, that all uncandid criticism must be discomfited in its misconception of this essential glory; while they are so human in their external form, and in their peculiarities, that they seem themselves to invite us to test their statements by the light of fair and candid criticism. Thus are they ready to answer all kinds of criticism; and their cause is so pure and sublime, that it can but gain by every fresh inquiry. Nay, it is their property to give birth to true criticism, and to condemn false criticism to the death it deserves. note The four Gospels seem like a delicate web of truth stretched out to catch all unfair criticism. They entangle all such criticism in its own inconsistencies. Or we may compare them to a wondrous grove of trees forming an enchanted forest, in which the unclean spirit of profane criticism gets lost and entangled, and wanders about restless and perplexed, unable to find its way. This magic power is exercised by the four Gospels, because the single history of the life of the Lord Jesus, which they furnish, is presented under the different aspects of four widely differing and typically significant individual views. This fourfold reflection of the one light of the world, when viewed askance, presents a thousand dazzling reflected lights, completely confusing the vision, while a direct view of the four reflections shows but one light. In this respect it may be affirmed, that the mutual relation of the four Gospels more excites and evokes the criticism of the human mind than anything else, and at the same time becomes itself the criticism of all false criticism. Who would undertake to harmonize the results of modern criticism? A harmony which should seek to bring these critics into accordance with each other, would find a thousand times more difficulties than those harmonies which seek to reconcile the discrepancies between the several Gospels. The well-known lines, referring to the government of the celestial powers, may with a slight variation be applied to the four Gospels:- ‘Ihr führt die Kritik ins Leben ein, Und lasst die Arme schuldig werden; Dann überlasst ihr sie der Pein Denn jede Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.’ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 29: 02.020. PART IV ======================================================================== PART IV CRITICISM OF THE TESTIMONIES TO THE GOSPEL HISTORY ======================================================================== CHAPTER 30: 02.021. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I general survey The Gospel history is, in its very nature, a criticism of the world-a test of the world by the absolutely correct standard of its eternal destiny, which is manifested in Christ. It is a sentence passed upon all other lives, upon the assumption of the truth of the divine-human life. And in communicating itself to, and implanting itself in humanity, it diffuses a life which is essentially critical; it originates a critical examination, not only of the world’s worth, but also of its own merits. Thus it is in the nature of the critical agency of the Gospel history, that it should evoke an antagonistic criticism on the part of all those whose points of view it subordinates or opposes. The philosophy, however, of Christian consciousness, with respect to its conviction of the certainty of Gospel history, must be ever more and more developed by the dialectics of this antagonistic criticism, and thus an evangelical criticism of the Gospel history arises. This criticism, on its formal side, institutes tests by which the Gospel history is to be tried, while, on its material side, it undertakes a scientific examination of the nature of the Gospels, and of the Gospel history. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 31: 02.022. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the gospel history as criticism No one acquainted with Christianity will deny that it has appeared in the world as a criticism of Judaism and Heathenism. Speaking generally, this critical agency has been exercised by its spirit, but it is the Gospel history which has chiefly and definitely exhibited this spirit. This is the condemnation, the crisis, that light is come into the world (John 3:19). Christianity being then in its nature critical, must neither be accepted, maintained, nor defended in an uncritical manner. Why callest thou Me good? said Christ to the young ruler, who acknowledged Him with superficial precipitation, and proceeded to test that enthusiastic follower by the remark: Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay His head. The prejudiced criticism which Nathanael opposed to faith in Christ was treated with marked forbearance; the sceptical criticism with which Thomas doubted the resurrection, with considerate and convincing patience. Christianity cannot commit its cause to rash and blind enthusiasts, nor to thoughtless and fanatic champions. It would communicate itself to the world, not in mere dead precepts, but according to its own nature, that is, as the spiritual life of the world; therefore it calls upon men to test and examine its contents. It would entirely liberate man, and reconcile him with God; it would therefore especially liberate and reconcile his understanding. It would further become, through the Spirit, the presence of eternal life in the Church; it therefore presents to the subjective spirit no absolutely closed and rigid external historical tradition. It was by the prompting of the Spirit that the Church was to recall all that Christ said and did (John 14:26). Christianity will itself be the instrument by means of which man is to judge, to comprehend, to renew, all that is in his world; hence it requires even of man’s conscience, that he shall be so thoroughly convinced of its spiritual truth as not to prejudice its interests by his own uncertainty and want of harmony. ‘Thou canst not follow Me now,’ said Christ in this sense to Peter. From its very nature, Christianity is willing to stand the critical testing of every mind, that it may rest entirely upon its own statements. The Gospel history would be received and appropriated in a critical spirit, because it is itself the criticism of the spirit. note ‘Criticism’ is spoken of in our days as if it were an infallible intellectual organ, a new science, religion, or authority, demonstrably and definitely present somewhere. But this assumption involves part of the monstrous superstition with which modern morbid idealistry is infected. In this vague sense, criticism is now this head, now that; perhaps the head of one under the delirium of fever, of a madman, perhaps the head of a rogue. In a more temperate decade, the critic, instead of uttering the spell, Criticism pronounces! might perhaps have said, This is my humble opinion! or, This is the proof which convinces me! As long as the criticism of an individual is contented to appear as the subjective activity of his own mind, it must be allowed to speak, and should be listened to with a respect proportioned to the reasons it exhibits. But as soon as it is spoken of as a power, the critic must either be able to describe its principles, its rules, its organic form, or clearly express his desire to be regarded as an incarnation of the critical spirit. In the latter case, we should know what to think of him. It is very remarkable that the assumption that some kind of incongruity exists between Christianity and criticism, has for a long time been considered a valid one. Is not Christianity criticism? Is not its spirit pure and mature truth, manifested in and corroborated by universal history? Does this spirit need assistance, in its expressions and dealings, from the rude, shallow, obscure spirit manifested, it may be, in single individuals, and more or less entangled, as it still is, in nature? The assumption that pure truth must be freed from its shell of Christianity by the help of criticism (a consummation to be effected by the intellect of the natural man, with its philosophical implements), is in direct opposition to the Christian assumption. The legitimacy of this assumption is meanwhile still confirmed, in opposition to all the false messiahs of criticism, who are, so far at least, right in entirely separating their power from that of Christianity, or of the Gospels. The result will show from which side the criticism arises; but in any case the theologian is too easily deceived, if he from the first grants the title of ‘criticism’ to the new intellectual powers which would test the Gospels.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 32: 02.023. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III antagonistic criticism in general Every disposition appears under the form of a judgment passed on others by him who is the subject thereof. Ill-humour at the wet weather calls the weather bad. The ill-humour of the child at its father’s refusal calls the father unkind. The reproving and correcting agency of Christianity upon the world calls forth much ill-will, and this ill-will settles into antagonism, and expresses itself in antagonistic judgments. This antagonistic criticism was already full blown during Christ’s sojourn on earth. His miracles were criticised by the accusation that He cast out devils through Beelzebub; His teaching, by the complaint that He seduced the people; His life, by the declaration that He was gluttonous and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners. The first work which united the several antagonistic opinions of this kind into one general criticism was the crucifixion of Jesus Himself. The agency of antagonistic criticism in the world cannot be extinguished till all the dispositions contrary to Christianity are annihilated; in other words, it must, in conformity with its nature, last as long as the world does. With reference to its form, however, it changes its garb according to the fashion of the age in which it appears. In a rude age, it will in round terms declare the Gospel history to be an imposition; in a frivolous age, it will use the weapons of ridicule; and in a philosophical age, it will assume an aspect of philosophic repose and inquiry. It may, however, even in this guise, be distinguished from true criticism by the following marks. First, being founded on subordinate principles, it will necessarily proceed upon them. Secondly, since it cannot possess a genuine interest in the eternal ideal reality manifested in the incarnation of the Eternal Word, because it is in principle opposed thereto, it will, as a result of the oblique impulse it has received from its false principles, be driven to subreptions. Thirdly, being unable to avow its rejection of the Christian principles of the Gospel history (since it would appear in its examination of this history as an agency inherent in Christianity, and friendly to it), and being unwilling to commit itself to the recognition of those principles in their results, it will mingle in a hateful manner operations which seem to recognise the principles of the Gospel with such as deny it. A history of ‘criticism’ would consist of a series of such proceedings, beginning with unconscious self-deception, advancing to subtle special pleading, and terminating in utter perfidy. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 33: 02.024. SECTION IV ======================================================================== SECTION IV antagonistic criticism in its subordinate principles and aspects Considered as a history of the facts in which the Godhead was united with manhood, the Gospel must be regarded as a spiritual and intellectual height lying far above the principles, dispositions, and insight of Heathenism or natural religion. Wherever, then, natural religion is in any way active, or even opposes the agency of Christianity, its principles become the principles of an antagonistic criticism, and these principles appear in definite forms and expressions. When Heathenism is regarded as the religion of nature in contrast to the religion of the Spirit, it is generally viewed chiefly on that side by which it would find the divine directly in nature, identify it with her and worship it in her. In this case, Heathenism is viewed in its piety, in its superstitious exaltation, in its deification of the creature. But in this manner it is not fully comprehended, and still less are its real roots appreciated. For this superstitious piety stands in polar interaction with a deep-lying impiety; and the monstrous superstition which it exhibits, is founded upon a monstrous unbelief. The self-chosen idol of the heathen only attains its magic splendour by more or less undeifying the world which is exterior to it. Its fame is surrounded and borne up by the sphere of the profane. And even when the heathen multiplies his gods, when his world seems in his eyes everywhere radiant with divine glory, he only attains to this multiplication and partition of the divine in nature by making general matter form the dark, unspiritual background which scatters all these lights, and in its gloomy power rises above and encloses them. In a word, Heathenism cannot get free from the eternity of matter: it wants the knowledge of a God who, in His eternal and spiritual light and power, is self-possessed, self-determined, and self-comprehended; who ordains, creates, and governs the world; whose eternal power and wisdom call it into existence, and before whose majesty it vanishes. Its divinity is limited and restrained by the dead matter of a world whose existence seems too real, too mighty, to allow its profane independence to be utterly surrendered in the beginning of the world, to the glory of the Father, in the midst of the world, to the glory of the Son, at the end of the world, to the glory of the Holy Ghost. Even heathen consciousness cannot indeed mistake the superiority of the Godhead to the ever unspiritual, material world. It views this superiority, however, under various aspects, according to the various forms of its own life. First, the heathen looks upon the Godhead with the drowsiness of his own natural religious passivity; and in this case he beholds it everywhere appearing, and everywhere disappearing in the mighty process of the material life of nature. Matter is to him the absolute darkness into which it sinks and from which it again emerges in the many gods, or in the one idea of universal divinity. This is the pantheistic stand-point. But then a moral sorrow, and indignation against the power which matter seems to exercise over spirit, are excited within him: he cannot endure that the Divine should be thus carried down the dark stream of natural forces, and tries to make in his own mind a separation between light and darkness. To this, however, he can never attain without making the God of light supreme over all. This god seems to be the Almighty Creator of the world. But in his inmost nature that eternal darkness, which the heathen mind cannot separate from deity, already exists and prevails. Hence his creation is more passive than active, a pathological incident; and as his life is developed, the darkness which lay at its root becomes more and more prominent. Darker and still darker worlds and structures are its manifestation. This is the ancient emanation-doctrine of the contemplative Oriental. It views God as the bright Father of light, the world as His dark offspring. Modern Pantheism, on the contrary, makes the divine nature arise, by an entirely opposite form of emanation, from the dark foundation of the material universe, as the result of the moral effort of intellectual power. Here finally the Divinity appears Deity, the result of the saddest process of mature human consciousness, the bright offspring of a dark mother.1 Pantheism, whether ancient or modern, fails to recognise that Holy Spirit which rules the world, and transforms it into the sanctuary of the eternal God. In the emanation-doctrine of Pantheism is seen, however, a transition to that separation between the light of spiritual life, and the darkness of natural life, which Dualism completes. Dualism is the moral effort of the heathen to free his God from materialism. He excludes matter from his notion of God, and thus forms the conception of an immense and mighty struggle between material light and material darkness. He now calls the light Good, the good God. But he is obliged also to define evil as the evil God, because to him it is eternal matter of a dark kind, which the good God finds opposed to Himself, and which He can indeed restrain, but not annihilate. He can restrain it, because it is matter, and therefore weaker than spirit; He cannot annihilate it, because it is eternal and substantial. It is from this religious point of view that the heathen fails to recognise in God the Almighty Father. He has, however, begun to recognise in the moral and powerful God, the Being who governs the material world, restrains what is evil therein, arranges what is formless, and, by continual decrees which penetrate to the material as laws, forms all into an orderly creation. In this perfected creation, God appears indeed in super-mundane, but not in intra-mundane glory, because He is viewed as only subduing by conflicts and victories, and restraining by iron laws, a world originally opposed to Him. Matter, in its subjection to law, is indeed no longer the darkness which overwhelms the Divinity, nor the evil which resists Him, but it is the rigidity which limits Him in the full manifestation of His glory in the world. Such a view of divinity is a mutilated Monotheism,-it is Deism, which cannot recognise the Son of God, or God in the glory of His Son. Thus we have discovered three heathen principles subordinate to Christianity, which are capable of becoming the principles of a criticism antagonistic to the Gospel history. In the history of religion, there is, however, a continual interweaving of these different principles of Heathenism, especially of Pantheism and Dualism. These contrasts, like all contrasts of a morbid kind, formed in a spurious element common to both, run to unnatural extremes, and often reconcile their differences by overleaping each others’ boundaries, and by mutually intermingling. The various forms of the emanation-system form the border land, in which this mingling of Pantheism and Dualism takes place. The emanation-system is ever oscillating between the decision which calls what is natural, evil, and that which calls what is evil, natural. Mutilated Monotheism, on the other hand, keeps itself more or less aloof, in form at least, from these two extremes, which are so closely allied with it by a common heathen basis, by recognising God as a spiritual power raised above the world, and ruling its darkness by imposing laws upon it. In its essence, however, it partakes of both extremes: it is pantheistic, because its universe possesses a life properly its own, separate from God, ever conformed to laws, and so far divine; but on the other hand, it is also dualistic, inasmuch as its rigid conformity to laws would force the eternal God to behold inactively, and in super-mundane quiescence, the mechanism of those laws of nature which He had Himself ordained. From the commencement of Christianity to the present day, these two principles, viz., that of dualistic Pantheism, as well as that of pantheistic but still more dualistic Deism, have asserted themselves against the principles of Christianity; and the results have appeared in a long parallel series of productions on the part of antagonistic criticism. It is, however, self-evident, that these principles can only appear in their unmitigated form outside the Christian Church. Wherever they have intruded within it, they must have been more or less christianized. They were broken by the power of Christianity, but were, even in their mutilated condition, tenacious of existence, in proportion as they had taken up some of the elements and powers of the Christian faith, and had strengthened each other by becoming mutually interwoven, and consolidated into compounds. It was in the Græco-Romish Heathenism, or in Persian Dualism, that the purely extra-christian forms of pantheistic Dualism chiefly opposed Christianity. Its modified and semi-christian forms have been principally developed in Gnosticism, Manichæism, Spinozism, in the Bohemian theosophy, in the earlier system of Schelling, in the Hegelian philosophy, and in its critical offshoots. The wholly extra-christian phenomena of dualistic Pantheism have manifested their opposition to Christianity in Talmudism, in Mahometanism, and, in modern times, in Materialism. Its christianized forms have appeared, in the ancient Church, in Ebionitism and Monarchianism; in the modern, in Deism and Rationalism. The criticism which the Gospel history experienced on the part of unmixed pantheistic-dualistic Heathenism, appears in the martyrdoms of the first centuries of the Church, and in the literary accusations and works by which this persecution was accompanied. The Church first experienced this antagonistic criticism on the part of the prevailing pantheistic Heathenism, in the persecutions which it underwent from the Roman power; and afterwards on the part of the prevailing dualistic views, in the martyrdoms encountered in the Persian kingdom. The dualistic principle, however, was gradually introduced into the Christian Church, and was constrained to appear, within this sphere, under a maimed and modified form. It is under such a form that we behold it in the system of the Gnostics. The essentially distinctive mark of Gnosticism is overlooked, when its relation to the Church is lost sight of. It exhibits a series of systems, misconceiving the pure ideality of creation, and hence the Old Testament; and therefore incapable of believing in the manifestation of the Son of God in the flesh, and equally incapable of forming a society in separation from the Church; or in other words, of exhibiting a powerful embodiment of their ideas. It is the latter circumstance which makes these systems Gnosticism. The climax of Gnosticism is Manichæism, which under various disguises glides through the middle ages, and finds religious seriousness, in its morbid form of melancholy, the congenial soil in which its old and scattered seeds will always spring up. The system of Spinoza seems to present the greatest contrast to Manichæism, exhibiting, as it does, the entire dissolution of this morbid dualistic effort. But even in this case the existence of one extreme cannot but testify to that of the other. The acts of the Divine Being are, according to Spinoza’s views, utterly pathological; this Being, in His constant torpor, is resolved into His attributes, or into the incidents of life-a dark fatalism alone gives Him any existence. But the dualism in question reappears in its most decided form in the system of Jacob Böhm, and, by its means, pervades even to our own days, though under various and ever-increasing disguises and refinements, the more modern idealistic and philosophic view of the universe. It is seen in the obscure unfathomableness from which Böhm makes the being of God emerge, and comprehend Himself in the Son, as in His heart; so that in this self-comprehension He is first called God, ‘not, however, according to the first principium, but cruelty, wrath-the stern source to which evil bears witness, pain, trembling, burning.’1 Its course is next traced in the earlier system of Schelling; evil being therein regarded as that higher power, inherent in the dark groundwork of nature, which comes forth in actual life; its necessity being asserted, and the contrast between nature and spirit, between darkness and light, viewed as the contrast between good and evil. According to Hegel also, the ideal is in a state of declension in nature; the absolute, the natural condition of man is evil, the creature has an unhappy existence. Finity, humanity, and abasement are said to be identical, and are considered alien to that which is simply God, and, as such, destroyed by the death of Christ. The exaltation of Christ to the right hand of God is regarded as an explication of the nature of God returning to Himself, of God as spirit. This spirit manifestly gets rid of individuality as something alien, because it can still only view it as a product of nature, which is said to be the self-alienation of the ideal. Even Hegel’s opinions concerning physiognomy, prove that he did not comprehend the importance of individuality. He views it as finity, limitation, deficiency; hence spirit must get rid of it to be reconciled with itself. But is it not the very opposite of deficiency, even that infinite definiteness of spirit, which is a condition of personality? This Manichæan shadow forms also that philosophical obscurity, that warped and dualistic principle, which is found in Strauss’s Life of Jesus, and by which the several conclusions of that work are explained. Here the dualistic separation between the ideal and reality is a chief premiss (see pp. 89 and 90). From this premiss arose that brilliant phrase which was one day to attain to world-wide celebrity, as a test of the absence of presentiment in religion, viz., that it was not the custom of the ideal to lavish its fulness upon an individual and to be niggardly towards all others. According to this saying, individuality is at best but a stronghold in which the ideal is confined, and whence it cannot come forth, till, like magic powder, it has burst its prison-walls. Hence it cannot be raised to the pure ideality of the spirit, nor pervaded by its fulness, because the boundary lines which circumscribe the individual, are still regarded as limitations of the spirit. This is the most refined attainment, the highest effort of dualism; hence its necessary complement must be Pantheism, which regards the universe as a foaming ocean, and beholds its God involved in its ceaseless tides. The assertion that the rites of the ancient Hebrews were a worship of Moloch, has been maintained with ever increasing boldness.1 The truth is, that the Hebrews had to maintain a continual struggle, by means of the revelation and law of Jehovah, who as the eternal God stands opposed to the process-God, in order to free and purify themselves from heathen traditions of the worship of Moloch. Jehovah commanded Abraham to offer up Isaac; he was willing to make the sacrifice; but, in the decisive moment, he understood the command as if Moloch had said to him: Slay Isaac. Then Jehovah interposed, praised his obedience, corrected his error, and taught him the difference between the two acts, surrender and death,-bidding him slay the ram as a sign that he surrendered, i.e., sacrificed, his son. Abraham showed not only by the strength of mind with which he responded to the voice of God when commanding sacrifice, but by the clearness with which he understood the voice of God when explaining sacrifice, that he was the elect one, whom the Lord had need of for the founding of a theocracy, in which the life of man was to be continually sacrificed to Him, but in which no human being was to be slain through guilty priestcraft. Thus the Old Testament gained a victory over the worship of Moloch, in the case of Abraham, though it had still to resist and subdue the backsliding of the people into this false religion. And how can this backsliding astonish us, when we see that philosophy has not yet succeeded in entirely freeing itself from Chronos, when it still considers it the highest attainment of the religious spirit to regard individualities as sacrifices, which must fall before the process-God? This Pantheism cannot endure even the idea of the God-man, of the pure consecration of the divine-human consciousness merging itself in the eternity of God. If Christ be comprehended as eternal personality in God, it is manifest during time that God has ever been comprehended in Him as personality. If this God-man performs miracles, what is this but manifesting the entrance of higher and still higher circles and spiritual forms into the old world; exhibiting the government of God in the foundation and centre of the world, and thereby abolishing the assumption that the Divinity is ever lost and ever found again in the ever uniform course of things? The world then ceases to appear an endless stream; it discloses itself as the wondrous flower, in whose blossom may be discovered the eternity which brought it forth. The dynamic and organic relations of the world’s history, according to which Christ forms the deep centre, the outweighing counterpoise to the whole human race, and regulates the whole course of the universe as its stable centre, according to which He elevates glorified humanity, as His one Church, to the eternity of His spirit, are relations of a sublimity unattainable, by the view which makes the greatness of mankind to consist in its masses. It is also incapable of understanding Christ’s death upon the cross in its moral significance, as the reconciliation of the world, arising from the voluntary surrender of Christ to the justice of God, and can only regard it as an event naturally developed in the series of necessity. But the resurrection is the rock on which Pantheism suffers shipwreck. That spiritual and divine heroism, that sense of eternity, that inspiration of personality, which shows its consciousness of its eternal dignity by testifying to the certainty of the resurrection, lies far above its conceptions. Its spirit arises from rashness, and proceeds to rashness, over that Faust-like magic bridge of subjective life which it hastily constructs, and again destroys. That such a view of the world should seek, with all the energy of its nature, to destroy, by a critical attack, the actuality of the Gospel history, lies in its very nature. Christianity, however, finds this criticism criticised by the unspirituality of its principles. A philosophy not yet freed from the worship of Chronos, cannot sit in judgment upon the history which put an end to the sway of Zeus. But that this formerly vanquished view of the world has been able to attain a relative authority in bur days, must have been caused by the morbidity of the view of the world prevailing in the Church. If Christian theology and the Christian view of the world have misconceived the omnipresence of God in the world, and resolved God’s elevation above the world into a terrible and abstract absence from it, the rise of the opposite extreme is thereby sufficiently explained. When, further, the ideal, the general, was ever more and more lost in the single facts of the Gospel, and these were regarded as mere past and isolated facts, which faith was to preserve as historical dicta complete in themselves, it was a just retribution that Pantheistic criticism should, on its side, no longer acknowledge the actuality of the Gospel ideas. This criticism, however, has attacked not only false views, but the Gospel history itself, and has in this respect itself become the criticism of its own deficient and antiquated principles. Mutilated dualistic Monotheism, under the form of the Jewish hierarchy, brought about the crucifixion of Christ, because it was perplexed by a Messiah, in whom the fulness of the Godhead was united with a real, a poor, and a homely human life. Talmudism subsequently carried on this criticism, and expressed itself by defamation of the Virgin1 by abhorrence of the ‘executed One,’ and by a deep hatred of the Gospel in general. Even Mohammedanism criticised Christianity, especially the doctrine of the Trinity, from the point of view of a deistical faith, assuming the abstract unity of God, His exclusive super-mundanism and super-humanism, and the self-contained absence of His being from the world.2 Deism also was forced to modify its expressions concerning the personality of Christ, and the Gospel history in general, as soon as it entered and took up a position within the Church of Christ. Ancient christianized Deism, as chiefly implanted in the Church by converted Pharisees, appeared under the form of Ebionitism, which denied the eternal glory and deity of Christ, opposed His miraculous conception, and looked upon Him as the actual son of Joseph, while it honoured Him as the last of the Old Testament prophets, the reformer of Israel, endowed with the largest measure of the Spirit for the execution of His work. Ebionitism in its Jewish narrowness gradually fell, like a withered branch, from the tree of the visible Church; but the Deism on which it was founded continued to agitate the ancient Church under forms more elevated and profound. It appeared in the whole series of Monarchians, who had this common feature, that they all denied the essential Trinity of the Godhead. They embraced, like Noëtus, the doctrine of Patripassianism; or, like Sabellius, the doctrine of a merely triple form of manifestation; or, like Arius, a new development of Polytheism,1 rather than plunge into the depths of the doctrine of the threefold glory of God. In other words, they could not free themselves from the deistic view of the abstract unity of God. This Deism is also perceived in the system of Nestorius,2 so far as the latter misconceives the ideality of the human personality of Christ, prepared for throughout the whole history of the human race; while the opposite systems of Eutychianism and Monophysitism could not attain to the full recognition of the human reality and historical truth of this personality, and were consequently perplexed by Gnostic errors. Nestorian as well as Gnostic notions have in disguised forms been secretly amalgamated with Christian views, especially with such as regard the incarnation of Christ as merely a part of His humiliation, and consider it solely as a positive arrangement of God with a view to the redemption of mankind.3 This abstract Monotheism took a more philosophic and definite form in modern Deism, which is for this reason more definitely so called. The deist looks upon the universe as simply nature, as a work of God, separate from Himself, purely natural, and self-sustained. He considers that God, in His omnipotence, caused the existence of the world to depend upon that conformity to law which he imposed upon it; that He so strictly bound it to a rigid conformity to law, as Himself to seem constrained and limited by the constraint He had laid upon the universe. In this system, conformity to law usurps the place of God’s active government, and seems to be a second deity, separate from Him, and causing Him, while reposing in that absolute supra-mundanism which is the celestial counterpart of a monkish renunciation of the world, to leave it to the perpetual correctness of its own movements. As, however, conformity to law cannot really work as a second divinity, a divinity in the world, it rather becomes, in the religious consciousness of the deist, a shadow obscuring the living God, a partition separating from Him. This evil result cannot but follow from the fact, that the universe, even in its motions, is seen by him under a narrowed, an impoverished, a mutilated form. It is not the actual world, with its infinite variety, its continual progress from lower to higher grades of life, its refined and spiritual conformity to law, agreeably to which the ordinary appearances of the lower spheres of life are ever being broken through and laid aside, amidst miraculous phenomena, by the principles of the higher spheres of life, which furnishes him with the facts upon which his theory is formed. His view rests, on the contrary, upon a compendium of natural philosophy, which has elevated the elementary principles and definitions thereof to eternal statutes. It confounds these statutes of a dead compendium with the living laws of the world, the formula which designates the phenomena with the phenomena themselves, empiricism operating upon common every-day remembrance with the infinite objective reality. The deist is specially taken with the false assumption, that the development of the world exhibits a single æon, ever moving onwards amidst unvarying results, as upon an interminable railroad between an inconceivably distant commencement, and an as inconceivably distant termination. He does not form a conception of progress from æon to æon in an advancing series, resulting from the introduction of higher, deeper, and richer Vital principles, and least of all, of the appearance of that principle, in the midst of time, which eternalizes temporality and transforms the restless course of his unending line into the solemn movement of a circle returning upon itself. The shortsightedness, prejudice, and enmity with which Deism has, on its subordinate principles, criticised the facts of Gospel history, are well known.1 In modern Rationalism it has striven to ennoble itself, has taken a more Christian form, and has endeavoured to make better terms with the high reality of the Gospel history. But Rationalism, too, has radically failed, because the inconceivableness of the abstract monotonous unity of the Godhead, the necessity of the Trinity in Unity, the living light of the personality of God in its self-manifestation, have not yet risen upon it. Hence, in its interpretations of Scripture, and delineations of the life of Jesus, it has ever employed a criticism more or less betraying an Ebionite point of view. So early as in the days of the Apostle John, the influence of these extraneous heathen principles was manifested in the critical opinions uttered against the heavenly reality of the divine-human life of Christ. The apostle proclaimed the deity of Christ, in opposition to incipient Ebionitism (1 John 4:15); the truth of His humanity, in opposition to incipient Gnosticism (1 John 4:2). But compounds, especially the system of Cerinthus, soon resulted from the elective affinity of these extremes. Such compounds are continually reappearing, and frequently reappeared.1 In our own times, the Gnostic element, under the form of modern culture, has shown its old critical antagonism to the great ideal reality of the Gospel history in Strauss’s Life of Jesus; the Ebionite element, under that of modern scholarship, has expressed the same antagonism in the Life of Jesus by Paulus. The work of the former has, indeed, assimilated many elements belonging to the latter stand-point; indeed, the latest productions of antagonistic criticism can scarcely be reduced to any, not even to heathen principles. An intelligent view of the principles of antagonistic criticism exhibits their connection with those dark powers of heathen natural life, which Christianity criticised, i.e., sentenced and conquered in the Gospel history. If they regain any influence within the Christian Church, notwithstanding their former overthrow in their original forms, this is a consequence of special compounds and relations in the sphere of spiritual life. A venerable and respectable Pharisaism will often obtain consideration in the presence of rank Antinomianism; while, again, the idealistic spiritual aspirations of Gnosticism will gain fresh favour when orthodoxy stiffens into mere lifeless precepts. The facts of the Gospel history had long been treated by the Church in a rigidly positive manner, and regarded rather as dead marvels than living miracles; their vital power, and innumerable vital relations, being misconceived,-their ideality, unappreciated. It was ordained that the stiff rigidity in which the living pictures depicted in the Gospel history were held by such a view, should be broken up by the electric shock of a partial and and Gnostic treatment. notes 1. The common principle of every possible product, both of naked extra-christian Heathenism, and of broken and christianized Heathenism, is ungodliness, impiety: impersonal Atheism, with respect to the subjective view; Materialism, with respect to the objective appearance. Atheism trembles to admit that solution of the problem, the government of God in all reality; hence its product is materialism, the unspiritual substance. Materialism is the refuse of the world, heaped up before the door of indolent atheism. The measure of the one is the measure of the other. The heathen system, to be understood in its specifically heathen character, must be viewed on this side, viz., that of its impiety. If, on the contrary, it is viewed, as is usual, only in its piety, which, as a morbid and superstitious piety, corresponds with its impiety, it is difficult, fundamentally, to refute it. For example, it is not so easy, when contending with the fire-worshipper, to dispute the beauty and magic power of fire, as to show him how erroneous it is to regard water as a God-forsaken mass. The temple-worshipper feels, when within his fane, a divine awe; it is, so to speak, the asylum of his delusion; it is in its profane environs that the Erinnys of criticism must attack him. The pantheist feels himself happy in contemplating that divine afflatus which breathes through the universal; but he must be shown that he is unhappy in the presence of that great glory, the majesty of the eternal conscious Spirit, whose ever-powerful and conscious unity makes the universal, abstractedly considered, vanish into nothing, as the same Spirit had called it forth from nothing. It must be proved to him that his system, in wanting a definite God, the eternal spiritual consciousness of God, has too little of God; that it has not, as seems to have been sometimes thought, too much of God. The deist boasts of maintaining the unity of God. But if he is forced to acknowledge the absolute darkness which lies in the notion of an abstract unity of God, and also to confess the blackness of darkness proceeding from the rigid mechanism of an universe left by God to its own laws, he is on the road to recognise that the unity of the Eternal Spirit cannot be conceived of, in its vitality, without the form of Trinity. 2. Gnosticism has this peculiarity, that it can only form schools and not churches, because it knows only morbid ideals, which can never become flesh and blood; a transient summer of the divine, which can never become the sun of the personal Deity. Its chief characteristic is antagonism to the accomplished realization of divine government. Hence the Gnostic systems also must be simply viewed and arranged according to their polemic relations to the Old Testament doctrine of creation, to the real advent of Christ in the Old Testament, and to His incarnation in the New, and according to the development of these relations. Consequently, even Manichæism must be regarded as only a potentialized Gnostic system. With regard to Gnosticism in general, the thesis may be laid down, that there is no pantheism which is not completed by dualism, no dualism which is not completed by pantheism. The pantheist finds the existence of an evil being, first, in general finity; next, in human sensuousness; then in the sacred lines of Individuality, which distinguish man from man; and lastly, in the human feeling of dependence, i.e., in religion. Dualism is continually betraying its pantheism, by its inability to maintain the precise line of demarcation between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness. Darkness comes forth in the kingdom of light, and the lost germ of light is again sought in the kingdom of darkness; this confusion is the sign of that pantheistic somnolency which overcomes the heroic efforts of dualism. 3. Every form of deism has the peculiarity of regarding the existence of the world as a trivial reality, as the great tout comme chez nous, which need not be surrendered to the all-ruling Godhead; while Gnosticism makes the actual world a terrible sacrifice, to be consumed upon the altar of the ideal, like sin itself; nature, a declension from the ideal; individuality, limitation; the features of the countenance, a caricature of the spirit, haunting the world; personality, the selfish Sunday child which will not accommodate itself to the perpetual process of the dialectic railroad; the historical Christ, the ideal niggardly of its abundance, the ideal in oppressive majesty; and, lastly, the Gospel history, the high land which opposes a granite-like resistance to that stream of idealistry, which is to wash down everything, and will not in its Vulcanic character surrender itself to the process which would convert it into one of the sedimentary deposits of mythology. 4. As the vampire is said to be nourished by the blood which he sucks from the living sleeper, so does dualism derive its triumphs from the blood of the Church herself, when she has fallen asleep over her riches. If, for instance, the ideality of the Gospel history had been always duly estimated, its reality could never have been so sadly misconceived; and if its reality had been more powerfully proclaimed, criticism could not have attempted to convert its ideality into scraps of wonderful New Testament grammar. Dr Paulus’ view of Gospel history is done away with by Dr Winer’s New Testament grammar. If the real grammar can do so much for the ideal theology, how much more must the real theology be able to do for it! 5. The warning of the Apostle Paul, Colossians 2:8, applies here: βλέπετε μή τις ὑμᾶς ἔσται ὁ συλαγωγῶν διὰ τῆς φιλοσοφίας καὶ κενῆς ἀπάτης κατὰ τὴν παράδοσιν τῶν ἀνθρώπων, κατὰ τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου, καὶ οὐ κατὰ Χριστόν. ὅτι ἐν αὐτῷ κατοικεῖ πᾶν τὸ πλήρωμα τῆς θεότητος σωματικῶς. Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, (through the philosophy, namely, which, is formed) after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ (which does not look upon Christ, but upon elements, atoms, matter, as the principle of the world). For in Him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily (in the unity of the bodily appearance). For so would I translate and explain this passage.1 Thus the apostle is contrasting, with all earnestness, the philosophy founded on the assumption that the elements are the principle of the universe, with the philosophy which recognises Christ as the principle of the universe, and that, not as if delivering a discourse, but speaking of it in its proper meaning, both in a Christian and speculative manner. This philosophy arose from human, i.e., heathen tradition, and did not overcome heathenism. It was, at first, rightly called philosophy, as being the sincere effort of the human mind to attain to knowledge; but now that it would maintain itself in opposition to the philosophy which is after Christ, it becomes vain deceit. And they who would impose it upon Christians spoil them, deprive them of the infinite riches laid up in Christ, and chiefly of the certainty that in Him the fulness of the Godhead, and the most decided individual corporeity, are become one. While Christian philosophy-which is not mere philosophy, because it goes beyond abstractions, and presses on from life to life-recognises Christ as the eternal principle of the universe, this miserable philosophy, which makes Christians poor, looks upon the elements as the principle of the universe. Here, then, we find the matter of the heathen view of the world resolving itself, before the eye of the philosopher, into atoms or elements. These float before his view like dark mouches volantes, which he cannot perceive to be caused and arranged by the ideality of the great and spiritual principle of the universe, and are seen, in consequence of a defect of spiritual vision, in mutual interaction with the so-called ‘dark seed’ of sinfulness, especially of moral spiritual bondage. The ascetic precepts of the teachers of error at Colosse (Colossians 2:16, &c.) showed that they were founded on Gnostic, consequently on dualistic principles. These precepts, too, are στοιχεῖá τοῦ κοσμοῦ (Colossians 2:20; Galatians 4:3; Galatians 4:9); and correspond with the theoretic assumption of world-forming στοιχεῖá. The profane sense, which looks on the world as profane, must be brought back by the strictness of the precept to a feeling for what is holy, that it may discover the principle of the holy, that principle which both theoretically and practically sanctifies the world. By this allusion, the apostle seems to have been led to designate even the Israelitish precepts as στοιχεῖá τοῦ κοσμοῦ. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 34: 02.025. SECTION V ======================================================================== Section V antagonistic criticism in its dialectic dealings An interest in Christianity is an interest in reality itself, and therefore one with the spirit of truth. True Christianity knows nothing of partiality. The history of the apostles gives repeated instances of this Christian elevation of mind; e.g., in the narratives of the ruin of Judas, the fall of Peter, the deceit of Ananias. The cause of Christianity is therefore never served by deceitful arguments. But neither can it be with truth attacked continually from opposite stand-points. One distortion may contend with another for ages; inhuman Christianity and unchristian humanity, monkery and philanthropy-phenomena which contain their own refutation-may for a long time contend with each other, but one aspect of pure truth cannot oppose another. Consequently, when Christianity, as realized truth, as incarnate ideality, meets with a consistent negative criticism of its records, it may be expected that the fallacy of the antagonistic principle will soon develop in a secret tissue of fallacy in the execution. Modern antagonistic criticism cannot conceal this feature. An unprejudiced criticism of this criticism cannot but more and more bring to light the thread of special pleading, running through all its operations. Such a method of proceeding has indeed been frequently provoked by the equally morbid partiality, with which Church theology has endeavoured to reconcile the discrepancies of the four Gospels. When Church notions pursued their course without opposition, the doctrine of inspiration was carried to such an extreme, that not only the whole Bible, but every letter of the Bible, was made a Christ of. The infallibility of the four Gospels was viewed as excluding every uncertainty and inaccuracy in each single narration. One result of this false assumption was the so-called harmony, i.e., an attempt to bring all the Gospels into perfect agreement with each other, even in minute details. But harmony shot beyond the mark. The false assumption led to a false execution, to artifices in exposition which were carried to the extremes of special pleading. Church theology, however, was punished for the faults committed by this well-meant harmony, by a three times more powerful antagonistic harmony. The presumption, that as the commemorative saying is repeated in lyric poetry, so what is most important in history may also be exactly repeated, as, e.g., the cure of the blind at Jericho, the purification of the temple, may always be pleaded in favour of the former harmony. Antagonistic harmony, on the other hand, has laid down terrible canons.1 The Gospel narrative must, above all things, be in harmony with ordinary reality. If the fact it relates has a glimmer of ideality, if it inclines to the miraculous,2 if it is pervious to the ideal, and thus symbolical, it is therefore suspicious.3 This applies especially to the ethic sublimity, the moral and religious dignity, with which the Gospel history exhibits its facts.4 It is the superiority of the Gospel history to the ordinary reality of common life which, according to antagonistic criticism, makes its historic truth suspicious. Facts consequently increase in improbability, in proportion as they surpass the circle of the empirically natural, the real, and the commonplace. The second harmony which this criticism requires, is the agreement of the several Gospel reporters in the details of their narrative. The Gospel records are to bear the impress of lawyer-like exactness, and to prove themselves to be protocols, stating the external facts of circumstances, with perfect care as to the reception of detail. And in proportion as they want the qualities of protocols, as they fail to give to matters the form of a judicial process, are they to be regarded as untrustworthy.1 The first of these requisitions fundamentally denies the very principle which makes the Gospels, gospels. For they have not to relate facts which can be easily fitted into the empiricism of the Adamic æon, but the facts of that new principle of ideal-real humanity, whereby the miraculous breaks through the old sphere of nature, the eternal and spiritual light shines through human corporeity and reality, the majesty of perfect righteousness appears in the reality of a human life-a life surrounded by a retinue of moral heroes whom it calls into being, contending with the demoniacal powers which oppose it, and savingly and judicially pervading the old and sinful human nature with its effects. If the weak mind, giddy and stunned by such an announcement, betakes itself to crossing and blessing before this principle and the heroes it produces, it is at liberty to do so; but when it finds fault with the details of that which is so miraculous, symbolical, and holy, it is committing itself to the criticism of the principle, while deluding itself with the idea that it is but criticising the accounts of its operations. This critical requisition for the agreement of the Gospel narratives with the old empirical reality, the true critic will, as a Christian, feel bound to reject. But the second requisition he will reject as a historian; for it would either drive every genuine historian to despair by its results, or, on the other hand, hinder him by its absurdity. This demand ignores from the very first the fact that the Evangelists are relating history, and therefore a series of facts, which, having been already reflected in the subjective spiritual life of the narrators, can no longer be had in the form of an abstract chronicle, nor converted into one. It falls into the further error of forgetting that the Evangelists relate religious history; a history which they did not compose and arrange with a view to the requirements of the scientific, but of the religious interest, nor propagate for the furtherance of a partial scientific knowledge, but rather for the purpose of communicating to others, or at least of increasing in them, that same life which they had themselves found in these facts.1 Finally, this requisition misconceives that which is most important, viz., that these narrators relate Christian history, and therefore facts which in their very nature could not but assume a fresh aspect in each mind according to its individuality, while they yet remain the same, because they are the facts which are to transform the general life in the individual, as well as the individual in the general. The historian must not fail duly to appreciate the co-operation of the historical spirit, especially of the religious spirit, nor finally of the Christian spirit; first, in the original facts of the history; and secondly, in the manner of its narration. He must not be condemned to write merely the history of nations, when he is chiefly concerned with heroes, and even with the greatest heroes; and if he is to understand the circumference of history, he must be allowed to grasp its centre, and to contemplate it from this point. The sway exercised by this false premiss over the works of antagonistic criticism is expressed in a mass of separate sophistries, whose connection therewith does not always at first strike the eye. Arguments are often pleaded before the bar of Gospel criticism which would not pass uncensured, much less prevail, in any civil court. Some practices have already become standing figures. Among them, for instance, is the plan of considering the Evangelists stupid, by understanding their words in the most literal manner, and assuming that they were incapable of intentionally narrating anything paradoxical, imaginative, or symbolically significant. Thus it is asserted that Luke, the disciple of Paul, makes the Lord, in an Ebionite sense, declare the blessedness of the poor, as simply poor;2 that John puts a false word into Andrew’s mouth, when the latter says, ‘We have found the Christ,’ since he did not purpose to seek the very person of the Messiah;3 that the Synoptists make the Redeemer give a hint to the Pharisees not to regard Him as the descendant of David, by asking them the question, how David could call the Messiah his Lord (Psalms 110:1) if He were his son (Matthew 22:42; Mark 12:36; Luke 20:41).4 This plan is, however, reversed as occasion requires, and now it is the critic who undertakes the part which the Evangelists have just been made to play: now he cannot form a notion of their meaning, can often find no connection in their compositions, or finally, only some lexical connection, i.e., a word in one Gospel saying reminds the Evangelist of a similar word in another Gospel saying, and induces him to report it. Thus the lexical, apropos, the worst of all, is said to be the reason of many of those transitions in the Scriptures which have for many centuries appeared to the Christian mind the most subtle product of inspired thought during the apostolic age.1 At length, however, antagonistic criticism comes boldly forward with its pretensions to an infinite superiority to the Evangelists. One is praised-he is said to be highly poetical; a second and a third are censured-their words strike the critic as strange; a fourth is branded as a designing, glaring, unholy writer, a coarse falsifier of what is sacred, and condemned as a criminal. It is in the latter position that St John stands with respect to the critic Bruno Bauer.2 Thus does antagonistic criticism, which seemed to begin its task in so cool and tranquil a disposition, and with such entire freedom from assumptions, finish by taking up its genuine position, and exhibiting that passionate moral and religious abhorrence, in which it takes a final leave of the Gospels. Such a termination manifests the nature of its origin and progress, and exposes the moral vein running through the whole process,-the antagonism of its principle to the personal incarnation of God, and its holy results. Bold and direct assertions and coarse accusations form the appropriate climax of its procedure; for a false principle ever follows up its other practices with effrontery sufficient to complete their work. notes 1. A collection of examples illustrating the sophistical dealings of antagonistic criticism might here be adduced, to complete the proofs already given. We would, however, refer to the principal works in which such examples are plentifully given and fully examined, and to the numerous examinations of them. Tholuck, in his often cited treatise, has repeatedly pointed out the sophistry of Strauss’s work. With regard to the special treatment of the history of Christ’s childhood, examples of the kind in question are brought forward in my essay, Ueber den geschichtlichen Charakter der kanonischen Evangelien. The most striking specimens must, however, be sought in the criticism ‘which goes beyond’ Strauss. Certainly ‘criticism,’ in its last stage, has become the partie honteuse of modern science. 2. There are many who, in the field of theological discussion, and especially of scientific criticism, entirely repudiate such a proceeding as ‘putting to their consciences’ the results of their inquiries. This strange decision, rightly understood, exhibits the intention of setting up a scientific priesthood whose dicta are by no means to be impugned. For the very essence of priestcraft consists in the separation between the moral character of the individual and the spiritual calling which he fills. The spiritual calling is thereby made a spiritual métier. The ecclesiastical priest declines having his discourses ‘put to his conscience;’ the scientific priest declines to have the result of his inquiries referred to the roots of his opinion, his moral principles. A consistent man, on the contrary, would feel it an offence if his scientific work were not regarded as the product of his mind, and in agreement with his conscience. He would look upon it as an honour, that the moral significance of his conclusions-their relations to the deepest interests of the heart, to the highest principles of the life, should be recognised, and that his works should be regarded as the acts of worship arising from his personal religion. According to the Christian principle, that the inner life must possess a unity of character (Matthew 6:22; James 1:8), the Church must, once for all, repudiate the recognition of this priestly dualism, which would make the man of science as distinct from his works as the butcher is from the animal he slaughters. Even modern philosophy opposes this violent separation of the intellectual and the moral man. Kant rebuilds the whole world of knowledge, which he had destroyed as resting upon itself, upon the solid foundation of the conscience; Fichte makes the deciding Ego the very centre of gravity in the sphere of knowledge; Hegel finds everything, and especially religion and morality, in the reasoning power. With such premisses, how is it possible to protest against the relations of the reason to the conscience? It is only possible in the cowardly stage of antagonism. When the disease reaches the stage of effrontery, it openly avows the connection of its critical operations with its enmity to Christianity. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 35: 02.026. SECTION VI ======================================================================== SECTION VI antagonistic criticism, in its intermixture of contradictory assumptions, and opposite modes of treatment When the Gospels are viewed from the above described pre-christian and inter-christian stand-points, it will unquestionably be only a natural exercise of the mental powers to test and oppose them. And the more openly the general antagonistic principle has been expressed, the more fair and honest will the attack appear. Nor can the right, and even the duty, of every man to test the Gospel records, according to his power and calling, from a Christian point of view, by bending them to conform to certain axioms as to form and matter, and judging them accordingly, be questioned. With respect to their form, inquiry must be made how far they are self-consistent, in accordance with each other, and with the known character of the times to which they refer. Whatever discrepancies appear, will be taken into account; for while their credibility, in the essential matter, would be weakened by essential discrepancies, it can only be strengthened by non-essential ones. The essential matter may be defined as the narration by each Evangelist according to his idiosyncrasy, of the Gospel only, that is, the history of Jesus in its religious significance and effects. The requirements of the axioms of Christian criticism as to matter will be that the Gospel narratives should be homogeneous with the essential definitions of the Christian view of the universe. The general Church view of the God-man, of His life, ministry, death upon the cross, resurrrection, and ascension, must form the principles, according to which the matter of the Gospels will be tested. These axioms instantly bring to light, e.g., the difference between the canonical and apocryphal Gospels;1 and where they lead to the discovery of weaknesses, failings, and blemishes in evangelical narratives, their decision must be followed, regardless of consequences. Criticism is fully justified in taking either of these opposite points of view: the antagonistic, or that arising from the Christian view of the world. But matters are changed when they are deceptively and obscurely intermingled. When criticism calls the annihilation of Christian theology, Christian theology; and, while professing to proceed only according to the principles of formal criticism, will, in the midst of the argument, admit of none but those antichristian axioms from which it originates, thus rushing with pitiable duplicity from pretended advocacy into decided antagonism, it has even more reason than Wallenstein to exclaim, ‘The ambiguity of my life accuses me.’ A procedure might indeed be imagined, which should exhibit a combination of the two points of view, without falling under this reproof: An individual might write a criticism of the Gospels from some one or other religious feeling of his own, in which, from the very first, he would have regard only to the relation in which the consequences of the Gospel history would stand to the dicta of this feeling. In this manner, every one who approaches the Gospel history, enters into a process of exercising his criticism upon it, and in his turn experiencing its criticism of himself. The philosopher may, if he will, criticise the Gospel in detail, according to his professed system. He is not expected to judge it by any other than his own. But it will better become him to betake himself to principles, than first to lose himself in the discussion of particulars. A criticism of the Gospels, however, professing to be theological, or, in other words, to be mere criticism, naturally leads us to presume that it will judge of the Gospels according to their own premiss, viz., the truth of Christianity. Upon this ground only has it a right to enter into matters of detail; such, e.g., as the religious consciousness of Jesus at His twelfth year, the spirit of His farewell discourse, &c. But if it seeks, from the first, to demolish this premiss, attacking it in its details on every opportunity,-if, from the first, it suffers non-Christian axioms to regulate its proceedings,-it forfeits all claim to indulgence in particulars, and all pretence of judging and testing the Gospels in that Christian spirit which, as such, should judge and test all things. When once the antagonistic relation is admitted, this complication disappears. The discussion is then carried on in the sphere of religious philosophy, and outside the gates of the sanctuary. Internal questions, such as the connection of the Gospels, which only the Christian spirit can solve, and which must remain hidden from non-Christian views, are no longer discussed. It will then be regarded as even unscientific to enter into particulars with adversaries who contest principles. Modern antagonistic treatment of the life of Jesus should have been answered by dogmatism. If a lawyer had been commissioned to reply to the sophistical analysis of the details of the Gospels, how easily might a lawyer-like reply have been found to these lawyer-like attacks! Nay, perhaps, a master of his art might, in conducting the cause of the Evangelists, have succeeded in exhibiting, in the style of their adversaries, a connected protocol out of all their several accounts. This much is, however, plainly manifest from the above described intermixture of critical starting points, that theological criticism, as such, is still in its infancy, and that the first step to be taken, should be an attempt to develop the principles of criticism itself, to bring the instrument into conformity with its ideal, that it may not be employed as a mongrel kind of proceeding, between judicial execution and private assassination, in an uncertain and destructive manner, producing nothing but the most perplexing illusions. note The two well-known titles-The Life of Jesus critically treated-and Christian Doctrine exhibited in its historical development, and in its opposition to modern science-have often been mentioned as characteristic indications of such an intermixture of opposite critical points of view. The compositor would have more accurately exhibited the peculiar relation between what is acknowledged and what is denied in these titles, if his italics had distributed the emphasis thus: The Life of Jesus, critically treated-Christian Doctrine, &c., in its opposition to modern science. The title, ‘The Lord’ seems strangely introduced in the critical works of Bauer, in the midst of an attempt to consign to destruction the glory of His works. In the third volume, indeed, it gradually disappears, and the name Jesus takes its place. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 36: 02.027. SECTION VII ======================================================================== SECTION VII the christian theological criticism of the gospel narratives A course of argument which proceeds upon no definite principles, or upon principles not decidedly those of the Christian point of view, can by no means be brought forward or recognized as theological criticism. Many works making pretensions to this title, have been characterized by their denial of the principles of Christianity, the principles of historical criticism, and even the principle of being consistent with themselves. Every utterance and evasion of subchristian or antichristian assumption, every sophistry and chicane employed in the examination of the Gospels, has been called criticism. To lay down an organon of criticism, is therefore of the first necessity. It has been laid down as the first principle of criticism, that it should be entirely free from assumption. Freedom from assumption has even been said to be criticism. Hence a more accurate definition of this notion may reasonably be demanded. The requisition that the critic should not allow himself to be influenced by preconceived opinions, is quite another from that which demands that he should not start from Christian premisses. The saying is, however, too indefinite to settle anything satisfactorily. This freedom from assumptions is never found as a gift of nature, for even the most mindless of men has his interests. If he has no holy, he has unholy interests, because he is a man, a being whose inner nature can never sink or stiffen into absolute indifference. The most indolent exhibit some kind of party spirit, and even the despairing are destroyed by the fearful power of false assumptions. It is only when moral and religious development has reached its climax, that a kind of energetic freedom from assumptions can appear, which is then, however, identical with the most sublime assumption. For it is not till man clearly recognizes that pure reality is identical with truth, that he attains the courage and gladness which enable him to look upon the facts he is investigating in a purely objective manner, and to perceive that truth will gain most by an utter renunciation of the selfish interference of his own special interests, by a complete surrender to the divine, in its naked reality. Thus man does not become free from assumptions till he assumes that truth appears in reality. But this is, in fact, the assumption of the eternal truth of Christianity; namely, that the ideal is realized, not merely in myths, but in facts; that the God-man must be manifested, not merely in scattered reflections, but in the plenipotence of individuality and personality. It is in this fundamental dogma that Christianity appears as the religion of the spirit. Hence Christianity is identical with objective criticism, and the Christian spirit, as such, is free from assumptions, because it consists in the highest assumption, and vice versa. Absolute freedom from assumption then, is, in the relation of a vital contrast, one with absolute assumption, and this contrast, in its oneness, forms the chief principle of Christian criticism. Its results are not merely a series of absolute critical propositions, but of absolute critical acts. Partial freedom from assumption, on the contrary, is more or less unconsciously connected with the partial assumption, that a perpetual schism exists between spirit and nature, between truth and reality, an abyss between Godhead and manhood, which can only be covered over by artifices on the part of either. Hence it looks upon reality as a world infected, in its very nature, with illusions. This low-pitched and false assumption begets, as has been seen, a criticism after its own kind. The first principle of true criticism, however, is the conviction that the actual world unfolds truth, and that truth is exhibited in facts, the highest truth in the highest fact. Hence arises the general requisition, that the critic should test the matter in hand with a morality corresponding to this conviction. He is seeking truth in the object he is testing; he must therefore approach it with truth. Generally speaking, truth is the absolute connection, the conformity of the particular with the whole, and with the infinite. But in the province of criticism, truth exhibits itself in a definite succession of incidents. First, the speech or expression is self-consistent; this is its logical truth. Then the saying is consistent with the inner nature of the person speaking; this is its moral truth. Further, its conformity with already accredited testimony is apparent; this is its historical truth. Finally, the saying is in accordance with the Eternal, as manifested in the heart of every man, and expressed in the life of the holy; this confirms its religious truth. In all these respects, it cannot but be required of the true critic, that he should himself be in accordance with truth, that he should be truthful, or ‘do’ the truth, as St John expresses it, in order to pass judgment concerning the truth of the matter to be tested. Thus what criticism demands in its object, it must first exhibit in its own transactions. It must be true, to be able to demand, to appreciate, and to recognize truth. Criticism of the Gospels demands of the Gospel which it is testing, first, that it should be consistent with itself. The Evangelist may indeed, nay must, appear to contradict himself. For the appearance of contradiction is the mark of life, depth, and concrete vigour. Nature appears to contradict herself a thousand times. If the critic finds a difficulty in this appearance of inconsistency, if he requires of the Gospels a lawyer-like accuracy of expression, he does but proclaim his own inability to appreciate them. He may, however, and must expect them to be free from real contradictions. The measure of their logical consistency is but the measure of their credibility. Such a consistency is the first demand of the critic. But it is therefore also his first duty. If he contradicts himself,-if, for instance, he at one time designates the dulness of the narrative, and at another its picturesqueness, as tokens of its unhistorical nature, if he at different times applies different and mutually opposing rules of judgment,-he forfeits all claims to the credibility which he seems in search of. Logical untrustworthiness may be the result of enthusiastic delusion. It may, however, be connected also with moral untrustworthiness. Detailed testimony always makes a moral impression: the person who speaks is always apparent in the background of the speech. It may be perceived from the relation of the whole to the parts, whether the highest degree of conviction prevails, or whether the speaker is endeavouring to persuade himself as well as others. When, then, logical inconsistency appears, on closer observation, to be moral inconsistency,-when, for instance, a hesitation between the dictates of holiness and immoral opinions is apparent,-the moral trustworthiness of the speaker is doubtful. The critic examines him in this respect. He may condemn him if he betrays a decided inconsistency between his isolated sayings and his moral nature. But he is himself subject to the same law. If he is continually showing himself prejudiced, while laying down as a principle entire freedom from prejudice,-if, e.g., he insists on seeing anecdotes in myths, or myths in anecdotes, while it is the nature of the anecdote to give prominence to the occasional, and of the myth to express the general, if he applies different weights and measures to different passages, according to the requirements of his special judgment,-the spirit of the critic has become his possessing demon, which is powerfully rending him in the midst of the process. In communications of a historical kind, criticism investigates their historical truth by considering their relation to already admitted testimony. Historical truth must, first of all, be distinguished from the truth exhibited by a legal document or a protocol. The latter must exhibit the utmost completeness in the description of an event, the former a lively and spirited view and condensation of it. The legal reporter endeavours to transcribe an occurrence with the greatest possible accuracy, though even this cannot be accomplished without the co-operation of the mind’s interpretation. The historical narrator, on the contrary, draws a free and artistic portrait of the circumstance; he tries to exhibit its essential features, as they have mentally affected himself. History is the actual world viewed and exhibited in the element of the mind, of enthusiasm, of the ideal. A protocol-like history will never descend to posterity; it is only by means of the joint testimony of the ideal that pictures of the world’s history can retain their brilliancy to the world’s end, and to eternity. This peculiar nature of historic truth seems to make history utterly uncertain, and does make it uncertain to every man who is only susceptible of the kind of evidence furnished by natural science. But that which makes it uncertain in this respect, is the very circumstance which, on the other hand, constitutes its certainty, viz., the epic spirit with which it is allied. The human mind obtains its highest conviction, concerning such distant and ancient occurrences as are narrated to it, by epic, or, as it might with equal propriety be called, moral assurance. History does not, however, therefore become a mere subjective delusion. The objective credibility of historical testimony is one of the most unshakeable convictions of the human mind. But the relative degrees of this credibility form an endless multitude of historical paths, which entangle the uncandid mind like a labyrinth, while the candid mind finds the brightest traces of truth to guide it. The relative degrees of certainty correspond with these relative degrees of credibility. There are certainties of ancient times, which shine through all time, like the stars, nay, like the sun and moon in heaven. But as soon as the particular features of facts generally certain are treated of, the particular views both of the witnesses and the recipients of their testimony are apparent. The general historical image appears under infinitely various modifications, according to the position and disposition of the minds that perceive it. The Thirty Years’ War assumes one colour in the eyes of the Protestant, another in the eyes of the Catholic. The Englishman talks of the battle of Waterloo, the Prussian of the battle of La Belle Alliance; it is one battle, but each nation has its special interest in the more defined conception and description of it. If, then, different stand-points produce different views of the same occurrence, the essential and non-essential must first be distinguished, unless all historical truth is to be despaired of. But not only will the view formed of an event depend upon the spirit in which it is contemplated, but this view will be also infinitely modified by differences in the means by which knowledge of it is obtained, by the circumstances of nearness or distance, and especially by the individuality of those who consider it. The variety of historical images which the same event will impress upon different individuals will, however, be the more striking in proportion as the event itself is, on one hand, more important, ideal, and significant, and, on the other, as the individuals who report it are original and significant. But among all varieties of outline and colouring, the historical narrative must, when tested, present in all essential matters the same image as other accredited testimony presents: this is its historic truth. The critic must require historic truth in a narrative. But to require this, he must possess the historic sense. He must have the ability of being assured of distant events by means of the historic spirit; the power of transposing himself into the past by means of the perpetuity of moral divination; and sufficient delicacy of perception to discern between the objective matter of a narrative, and its subjective setting. If this sense is wanting, he will either, with superstitious submission, identify all the witnesses of a fact with the fact itself, and thus, e.g., make out of two different representations of one occurrence, two separate histories; or he will, with historical incredulity, require that history should be everywhere accredited by its lawyer-like accuracy, that its truth should be officially and juridically established. Finally, since the Gospels announce that which is ever valid in the sphere of religious life, the facts which they relate must correspond with the religious consciousness, in those respects in which it is in all ages alike. The critic may and must test the religiousness of the narratives as well as of the facts. Hence arises the necessity that he should address himself to his task in a religious spirit, with a sense for the holy and the eternal in mankind. But the religiousness of the Evangelists announces itself as Christian in its nature. Does it become the critic then to test such witnesses, nay, the facts themselves which they narrate, with respect to their Christianity? Such a task seems both difficult and dangerous. But yet it was once accomplished by the primitive Church, when consciously forming the canon. In this case, the standard is always the collection of the New Testament Scriptures, as formed by the mind of the Church into a definite unity; or, in other words, the Christian spirit as originally and normally defined by the Sacred Scriptures. It is, for instance, entirely in accordance with a due relative subordination, that the Christianity of Mark, the disciple of the apostles, should be tested by the Christianity of apostolic teaching. But the critic who should feel himself called to this examination, must, on that very account, be a Christian. If he is deficient in Christian faith and spirit, he is deficient in the spirit of criticism-of criticism at the climax of its glory. These are the principles which the criticism of the Gospels must always cultivate and develop, and it is according to their dictates that its work must be carried on. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 37: 02.028. PART V ======================================================================== PART V The Authenticity of the Four Gospels ======================================================================== CHAPTER 38: 02.029. SECTION I ======================================================================== Section I the church’s corroboration of the four gospels in general One of the noblest branches among Church traditions is the tradition of the four Gospels. It appears in a threefold form: first, as testing and accrediting the Gospels, and investing them with ecclesiastical validity; then as preserving, propagating, and expounding them; and finally, as laying them down as the rule and touchstone of the Christianity of all other ecclesiastical traditions. It is only the first form of this tradition which will here engage us, viz., the corroboration furnished to the four Gospels by the ancient Church. Three stages may be discerned in the progress which this corroboration exhibits. First, we find that, even in the middle of the second century, four Gospels, far surpassing all others in authority, were known to the Christian Church. Then we learn from witnesses of the latter half and close of the same century, that the Gospels, known as the four Gospels, must have been the same that have been handed down to us; while towards the close of the third and commencement of the fourth century, we find these Gospels in possession of full and decided ecclesiastical recognition. Justin Martyr (a.d. 165) and his disciple Tatian may be taken as representatives of the position in which the Church stood to Gospel literature. The former was born in Palestine, and died in Rome; hence he was acquainted with the Church in a tolerably extensive circuit. The same was the case with Tatian, a native of Syria, who returned thither from Rome after Justin’s death. Now Justin, in his dialogue with Trypho the Jew, repeatedly appeals to original written testimonies, which he designates the memoirs or memorabilia of the apostles (ἀπομνημονεύματα τῶν ἀποστόλων). He views them both in their connection with and contrast to the writings of the prophets (τὰ συγγράμματα τῶν προφητῶν); that is, as a collection of writings, known and acknowledged by the Church, together with the Old Testament canon. As much that is found in the four Gospels is introduced in this dialogue, it is probable that he included these among the memoirs he mentions.1 He speaks, indeed, also of a Gospel, but this is quite in accordance with the feelings and expressions of the Church, and signifies the one objective Gospel, pervading all the subjective representations admitted by the Church. That Justin was acquainted with these also is evident, for he calls the memoirs Gospels.2 When, then, the connection in which Justin and Tatian stand with each other is taken into account, we cannot but connect the memoirs appealed to by the former, with the Gospel writing composed by the latter. After the death of Justin, Tatian was led aside by the Gnostic tendencies then rife in his native place, and from which he probably had not before been entirely free. It was under this influence that he composed his work, the Diatessaron (διὰ τεσσάρων; out of four, or according to ‘the four’).3 As a Gnostic, he found many causes of offence in the Gospels handed down by the Church, which he intended to remedy in this composition, in which he omitted the genealogies of Christ and all passages relating to His descent from David. If Tatian, then, could thus designate his authorities, it is plain that in his days four Gospels must have been universally known and acknowledged; and how can it be supposed that these were any other than those known to his master Justin? Thus, in the middle of the second century, there were four Gospels, known as the four, decidedly looked upon as valid in the Church; and, according to Eusebius,4 these were the same four as those acknowledged in later times. Eusebius, however, was not acquainted with Tatian’s work, and might therefore have been mistaken as to its reference to our four Gospels. But Theophilus of Antioch (a.d. 181) was also acquainted with four Gospels; and these must have been identical with ours, since Jerome was acquainted with commentaries on our four Gospels, which he attributed to Theophilus.5 In his work, ad Autolycum, B. iii., Theophilus speaks of the agreement between the prophets and Evangelists on the doctrine of justification; and this combination shows also the high degree of consideration which must have been awarded to the Evangelists in his days. The testimony given to the Gospels by Papias, who was Bishop of Hierapolis about the middle of the second century, and is said to have suffered martyrdom under Marcus Aurelius, offers many difficulties. Papias, as it at first appears, said (as reported by Eusebius in his Hist. Eccles. iii. 39) nothing concerning the Gospels of St Luke and St John. To this matter, however, we shall hereafter have to recur. Of St Matthew he says, that he wrote the λόγια (the oral Gospel) in the Hebrew language, which every one interpreted to the best of his ability; of St Mark, that he committed to writing what he learned (concerning the Gospel history) as interpreter to Peter. Both these accounts will have to be considered when we treat more particularly of these Evangelists. Thus much is, however, certain, that Papias was acquainted with one Gospel attributed to St Matthew, and another attributed to St Mark. But why does he not mention the Gospels of St Luke and St John? It almost seems as if the answer to this question might be gathered from a closer consideration of the report given of his expressions by Eusebius. According to this, Papias made a collection of the oral traditions concerning our Lord,1 in five books (συγγράμματα πέντε λογὶùí κυριακῶí ἐîçãÞóåùò). In the preface to this work, he explains the manner in which it was composed. He tells us that he did not concern himself with the communications of those who delivered new and strange precepts, but inquired after such as received what they delivered from the Lord Himself. ‘And if,’ continues he, ‘there came a disciple of the elders, I investigated the sayings of the elders: what Andrew or Peter had said, or what Philip, or what Thomas or James, or what John or Matthew, or any other of the Lord’s disciples; then also what Aristion or the presbyter John, the Lord’s disciples, say.’2 Eusebius employs this passage in opposition to Irenæus, who had said that Papias was a disciple (hearer) of John, and a companion of Polycarp. He remarks upon it, that Papias here twice introduces the name of John, the first time in connection with the apostles, the second in connection with Aristion, and designates this last John as the presbyter, thereby confirming the tradition of those who distinguished John the presbyter from the apostle of the same name, and maintained that the separate graves of both were still to be seen at Ephesus. But Eusebius overlooks the fact that Papias here also calls the apostles elders. It also escapes him, that Papias might here well introduce the name of John the apostle or presbyter twice, once as receiving his communications at the hands of his disciples, as he did those of Andrew or Peter, and again as receiving them directly, like those of Aristion. It is also necessary to remark, that John the presbyter is also decidedly distinguished from Aristion, both being called disciples of the Lord, but the title of presbyter being given to John alone. Was, then, Aristion, the disciple of the Lord, no presbyter according to the meaning attached to this word by the more modern church of Eusebius? In the days of Papias, the title presbyter, used in connection with an apostolic name, had still a special import in the Church. Papias first speaks of communications which he derived directly from the disciples of the Lord. He was then, in any case, in communication with such, whether their names were John, Aristion, or any other. He says, too, that he did not neglect indirect tradition, namely, such as he received from the disciples of the elders, i.e., the apostles. When mentioning this second and minor source of information, he seems to feel the necessity of accrediting it by the words: As also Aristion and John the presbyter, the Lord’s disciples, say. These, then, furnish him the ultimate corroboration of what he had learned indirectly concerning the apostles through their disciples; they must therefore certainly stand on the same level with those whom he names as his first and best authorities. Consequently John the presbyter could be no other than John the apostle; and the very words of Papias, in spite of their being misunderstood by Eusebius, confirm the statement of Irenæus. If, then, we may translate the Latin name Luke into the Greek Aristion, which seems very admissible (Lucere, ἀñéóôåýù), we have this satisfactory explanation of the fact, that the testimony of Papias to the two last Gospels is wanting, namely, that in the cases of the Evangelist Luke and the Apostle John, Papias had their own oral communications in support of his exegesis, in place of their Gospels; and this is the more probable, since he was in possession of oral traditions, and it was a principle with him to prefer them to written narratives.1 In the case, then, of Luke and John he did not inquire after written Gospels, though he did so in that of Matthew and Mark; while, with respect to the Gospel of the latter, he inquired also into its apostolic foundation. He was, in fact, according to the words of Irenæus, an ἀñáῖïò ἀíὴñ, an ecclesiastical antiquarian. If such a man mentioned the two first Gospels with a few critical remarks, and passed by the two last without comment, such a fact is a strong corroboration of all. To the testimony of Papias, we join that of Irenæus (a.d. 202). He tells us, in his work against heresies (iii. 1), that St Matthew brought out a Gospel among the Hebrews, in their own language, while St Peter and St Paul were preaching, and founding a church, at Rome: that after their departure, St Mark, the disciple and interpreter of St Peter, transmitted to us in writing what the latter had proclaimed: that St Luke, the companion of St Paul, gave a written summary of the Gospel preached by that apostle: and that St John also, the disciple of the Lord, who lay on His breast, composed a Gospel during his stay at Ephesus, in Asia. Clement of Alexandria (a.d. 221), in his Stromata (B. iii.), quotes an expression which Christ is said to have used in answer to a question of Salome, remarking that this saying is not found in any of the four Gospels which have been handed down to us, but that it is contained in the Gospel of the Egyptians. He thus distinguishes the latter from the four Gospels, which he views in the definite form of a concluded whole, possessing church authorization. According to Eusebius (Hist. Eccles. vi. 14), he expressed himself (in his Hypotyposes) concerning the Gospels in the following manner:-That those Gospels were first written which contain the genealogies: that St Mark, the companion of St Peter in Rome, had, at the request of many, set down what St Peter preached, and delivered it to them: that St Peter heard of this, but neither dissuaded him from the undertaking, nor urged him to it; and that St John, last of all, seeing that in all these Gospels that which was corporeal had been communicated (ὅτι τὰ σωματικὰ ἐν τοῖς εὐαγγελίοις δεδήλωται), and being encouraged by his friends, and impelled by the Spirit, composed the spiritual Gospel (πνευματικὸν ποιήσαι Εὐαγγέλιον). Tertullian, a contemporary of Clement (a.d. 220), also testifies to the authenticity of the four Gospels. In his work against Marcion, he accuses him of having mutilated the Gospel of St Luke (B. iv. c. 2). He lays down the principle, that the Gospels are, one and all, supported by the authority of the apostles, arguing that, though there were among the Evangelists disciples of the apostles, yet that these did not stand alone, but appeared with, as well as after the apostles. He thus views the apostolical testimony as a whole, in which those parts which are in themselves weaker, viz., the writings of St Mark and St Luke, partake of the strength of the unquestionable authority inherent in those of St Matthew and St John.1 Such was the strength of ecclesiastical authentication bestowed upon our four Gospels, even at the beginning of the third and latter half of the second century. Their diffusion in the Church is also certain. Proofs of the early spread of the four Gospels in the Syrian church are afforded us by the fact, that they were known to Justin Martyr, to his disciple Tatian, and to Theophilus of Antioch. From the testimony of Papias, which is completed with respect to St Luke and St John by Irenæus, we obtain the voice of the Asiatic church, with which the Gallic was in communication. Clement (to whom may be added Origen, in his more frequent mention of the four Gospels), shows that, in his days, the Gospels were a special possession of the church of Alexandria, while Tertullian bears the same testimony with respect to that of North Africa. The account given of the Gospels by Eusebius, in his Ecclesiastical History (iii. 24), may be regarded as the final result of the tradition of the early Church concerning them. He tells us that St Matthew, having preached the faith to the Hebrews, wrote his Gospel in his native tongue, when about to proceed to other nations; and that St Mark and St Luke, having also given forth the Gospels known by their names, St John, who had hitherto confined himself to an unwritten announcement, resolved upon writing, for the purpose of corroborating and completing the three Gospels already in circulation; and that he completed them, chiefly with respect to the commencement of Christ’s preaching and ministry, which had been passed over by the others. Eusebius, in confirming the last view, as one already allowed, certainly lays too much stress upon an unimportant difference, but his testimony itself is independent of this explanation. In the time, therefore, of Eusebius, i.e., in the beginning of the fourth century, the authority of the four Gospels was regarded by the Church as unassailable, and they were reckoned among those books of the New Testament to which no objection existed. Their ecclesiastical authority could only be enhanced by their being designated as component parts of the canon by the decisions of general councils, an authorization which they subsequently received, especially at the Council of Laodicea, in the middle of the fourth century. Subsequent ecclesiastical testimony need not here be entered into. It only remains to consider the manner in which the four Gospels were regarded and estimated by the Church, as collectively a spiritual whole. Even in his days Irenæus felt called upon to explain their relation according to its spiritual import.1 ‘As there are four quarters of the heavens in the world wherein we dwell, and four winds, so are there four pillars of the Church which is spreading over the whole earth, viz., the four Gospels, into which the one pillar and support of the Church, the Gospel and the Spirit of life, divides itself, and, like four living spirits or winds, they diffuse on all sides immortal life, and reanimate mankind. The cherubim, whose appearance was fourfold, were their types. The first living creature was like a lion, denoting strength, dominion, and sovereignty. The Gospel of St John answers to this figure; it represents the glorious and sovereign origin of Christ, the Word, by whom all things were made. The second was like an ox, denoting the ordinances of sacrifice and priesthood. Thus the Gospel of St Luke has a priestly character; it commences with the priest Zacharias offering sacrifice to God. The third had the face of a man, plainly representing the human appearance of the Son of God. It is St Matthew who proclaims His human birth and its manner, after having begun with His genealogy. The fourth was like a flying eagle, denoting the gift of the Spirit hovering over the Church. Thus St Mark testifies of the prophetic spirit which comes from above, by referring to the prophet Isaiah.’ Though there is only a very superficial and external foundation for these allegories, yet ecclesiastical theologians continue to apply the cherubic forms to the Gospels.2 Athanasius connected the human form with St Matthew, giving to St Mark the symbol of the ox, to St Luke that of the lion, to St John the eagle. Others endeavoured to introduce other combinations.3 The following, however, which is that of Jerome, prevailed:-‘The first form, that of the man, denotes St Matthew, because he at once began to write of the man: ‘The book of the generation,’ &c. The form of the lion denotes St Mark, the voice of the roaring lion of the wilderness being heard in his Gospel. The third, that of the ox, signifies St Luke, who begins with the priest Zacharias. The fourth form, the eagle, represents St John, who soars above, as on eagles’ wings, and speaks of the Divine Word.’ This distribution of attributes is found also in paintings representing the four Evangelists. The second and fourth hits of these interpreters are evidently happier than they were themselves aware. The lion, especially the Asiatic lion, which is here intended, is a striking representation of the vigorous, bold, and graphic peculiarity of St Mark. The eagle well denotes the sublime spiritual flight of St John, and his bold gaze at the sun of the spiritual world. But how inappropriate is the application of the man to St Matthew, and of the ox to St Luke, if we look away from the mere incidents on which Jerome founds his comparison! It is St Luke who pre-eminently exhibits the absolutely pure and divinely powerful humanity of Christ, and the human countenance might well characterize his Gospel; while that of St Matthew, who more especially proclaimed to the Hebrew people the promised Messiah, in whose blood they were to find the real atonement, would be more appropriately symbolized by the sacrificial ox. Modern exegesis may smile at such interpretations, as unprofitable trifling; and truly they do exhibit, so to speak, the childhood of theology and exegesis. But one great perception of ancient ecclesiastical theology, viz., that each of the four Gospels has its characteristic significance, which is often entirely wanting in modern critical exegesis, cannot be misunderstood. The Church has still more correctly discerned and exhibited these peculiarities in the order in which the four Gospels are arranged, than in these interpretations; for this order is in accordance with that in which the keynotes of the Christian life succeed each other, both in the apostolic band, and in the Church. St Matthew represents Old Testament Christianity, Jewish Christianity in its purity.1 His Gospel everywhere points to the fulfilment of the Old Testament in the New, and would perhaps in its very construction frequently reflect the ancient Scriptures. St Mark exhibits the Church in its Petrine spirit; the contemplation of the Lord’s glorious work and terrible sufferings, of the stirring incidents of His life, is its chief concern. St Luke bears distinctly the impress of that emphasis with which Paul, and the Pauline spirit of the Church, proclaimed universalism, the grace which appeared unto all men, and which is peculiarly exemplified in the parable of the lost son. St John is the last peculiar spirit in the Gospel series, and denotes that deepest and inmost disposition of the apostolic Church, which, because it was the deepest, was the last manifested in its historic development: he is the representative of that spirit which finds its happiness in the contemplation of God in Christ. notes 1. Church tradition with respect to the four Gospels has been neglected, and even contemned, in the transactions of modern criticism, in a manner which would never have been suffered in the sphere of profane literature. [See Isaac Taylor’s Transmission of Ancient Books to Modern Times.-Ed.] 2. The well-known and ingenious view of Schelling, according to which the Apostles Peter, Paul, and John exhibit types of three successively developed forms of the universal Church, is supported by the order of the four Evangelists. But the type of the early Church would, according to this order, be severed in two. The patriarchal or orthodox Church would be the first type, represented by Matthew, who connects the Old with the New Testament, as that Church did the ancient ways of the world with the new life of Christianity. The Catholic Church would be the second; its representative is St Mark. The common key-note of both is certainly expressed by the peculiarity of St Peter. In these typical views, indeed, only that which is truly Christian in each form of the Church is contemplated. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 39: 02.030. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the authenticity of the first gospel The Gospel, entitled the Gospel according to St Matthew, was unanimously attributed by the early Church to the apostle of that name, who, before his call to the apostleship, was a publican living on the shores of the Lake of Galilee (Matthew 9:9). The most ancient testimony is that of Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis, who, according to the before-cited account of Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. iii. 39), declared, when speaking of this Gospel, that Matthew first wrote it in the Hebrew language, and that every one translated or explained it to the best of his power.1 From a mistaken view of this evidence, a doubt of the genuineness of this Gospel first arose, and it is from its true sense that a due estimation of this book must proceed. Pantænus, the founder of the Alexandrian catechetical school, found, during a missionary journey, a Hebrew Gospel of St Matthew among the Christians of Southern Arabia (Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. v. 10). Irenæus also informs us (advers. Hæres. iii. 1) that Matthew brought out a Gospel among the Hebrews, in their own language. Origen (according to Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. iv. 25), Eusebius (iii. 24), Epiphanius (Hæres. 30, 3), Chrysostom (Hom. in Matt. i.), Jerome (Catal. de vir. ill. c. 3), and others, also assert the same fact. This tradition is corroborated by the relation in which the Greek Gospel of St Matthew stands both to the Hebrew language and to the Old Testament text. With regard to the first relation, this Gospel is interspersed with Hebrew words and constructions. The quotations from the Old Testament are generally not taken from the Septuagint, the current Greek translation, but are fresh translations of the Hebrew text.1 Errors of translation, said to be found in the Greek text, seem, however, to have been somewhat arbitrarily discovered.2 Schleiermacher, in his essay on the testimony of Papias (Theol. Studien und Kritiken, Jahrg. 1832), tries to prove that Papias only knew of a collection of sayings from St Matthew, because the expression τὰ λογία could only mean sayings or discourses, and could not also be applied to acts. Lücke, on the other hand, shows that the words τὰ λογία are certainly used to designate a Gospel, comprising not only the sayings of the Lord, but also His deeds; adducing the fact, that Papias uses the same expression when speaking of the Gospel of St Mark, and employs the words τὰ λογία in the same sense as the expression: what Christ both said and did (τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἢ λεχθέντα ἢ πραχθέντα). It may also be remarked, that it would be a bold step for any grammarian so to limit the meaning of the expression τὰ λογία, as to cast upon the whole of the Greek Church (which certainly believed τὰ λογία and the present entire Gospel of Matthew to be identical) the reproach of being ignorant of the Greek language. It must also be taken into account, that Papias does not here define τὰ λόγια as τὰ λόγια of the Lord. He seems rather to use the word as a current one, and therefore in an absolute sense. How very probable, then, is the supposition that, in his train of thought, this word might signify the oral communications of the Gospel history then current, in contrast to the written narratives. He tells us that he carefully investigated the words of the presbyters (τοὺς τῶν πρεσβυτέρων λόγους). In this case the word in dispute would designate the Gospel history then still current in oral discourse (τῶν λόγων).1 The argument of Schleiermacher is, at all events, untenable. In bringing it forward, it seems also to have been lost sight of, that by the composition of so partial a Gospel, a Gospel of sayings only, St Matthew would but ill have corresponded with the vigour and concrete copiousness required in an Evangelist and apostle. One of our modern abstract evangelists indeed, by whom miracles might be regarded as the suspicious matter from which he was to separate as far as possible the spirit of the words, in order to attain to the genuine or supposed sublimity of the Gospel, would, under the influence of such spiritualizing notions, according to which the Gospel fact, the Word was made flesh, has not yet been entirely fulfilled, have been more likely to hit upon the expedient of communicating the sayings of the Lord not merely separately, but exclusively. The whole argument, however, is overthrown by the fact, hereafter to be proved, that a deep and comprehensive unity is the foundation on which St Matthew’s Gospel rests. This unity is a pledge that in the Greek Gospel of St Matthew we possess, on the whole, a transcript, though a free translation of the Hebrew. Since, however, tradition declares the original Gospel of this Evangelist to have been a Hebrew one, we must, with the certainty that a translation was made, concede the possibility of trifling emendations having been made also. Even Papias was acquainted with several versions, which did not all seem to satisfy him equally. It may, however, be supposed, that the better translations, and those most faithful to the original, were most in use in the Church, till that which was the best prevailed over the rest. Sieffert and Schneckenburger have felt it incumbent upon them to attack the genuineness of St Matthew’s Gospel, on internal grounds.2 First, the author is said to have been entirely ignorant of many things, which an apostle must have known. This conclusion is drawn from the incompleteness of his communications. But a like incompleteness might be charged upon each of the Evangelists successively, if they had bound themselves to afford a complete and verbally accurate representation of our Lord’s life. This is, however, an utterly erroneous assumption. The second argument also, that the Evangelist has not reported successive events in their chronological order, arises from an erroneous assumption. For it is evident from the whole construction of this Gospel, that the Evangelist prefers such an arrangement of events as must naturally often break through the chronological order, and displace many occurrences. Hence there may arise inaccuracies in the order of the narrative, but not in the matter of the events themselves. Thirdly, it is said that separate occurrences are combined in this Gospel, in a manner which is the fruit of tradition. The examples enumerated, however, would seem rather to prove the contrary; as, for instance, the supposed origination of a twofold miraculous feeding of the multitude, from a single event. In this case, however, it is taken for granted, instead of proved, that this miracle was but once performed. Besides, could inaccuracies occur in the description of an event at which the apostle, as such, must have been present? The mention of the foal which, according to Matthew, ran beside the ass, at Christ’s entrance into Jerusalem, is said to have arisen from a misunderstanding of Zechariah 9:9. It is certainly possible that the translator might, in such particulars, have made additions which he thought improvements. Thus even a critical examination seems gradually to lead to this view,1 and consequently to corroborate the testimony of Papias in the natural and correct meaning attributed to it before the explanation of Schleiermacher. notes 1. Ammon, in his Geschichte des Lebens Jesu, vol. i. p. 53, &c., endeavours to identify the Gospel of St Matthew with the Gospel of the Hebrews, often named by the fathers. He says that the Hebrew Christians must have needed a short history of the life of Jesus, in their own language; and that according to credible testimony, they were provided with one. ‘It bore the name of the Gospel of the Hebrews or Nazarenes, and was attributed to the twelve apostles, but especially to St Matthew.’ A frequently corrected Greek translation, he says further on, banished the Aramæan original. ‘This Hellenistic translation of the original Aramæan Gospel is included by Justin Martyr among his memoirs of the apostles, because it coincided with the early oral tradition of Palestine, and was first attributed exclusively to St Matthew, when the appearance of other Gospels, representing respectively the views of St Peter, St Paul, and St John, no longer suffered the names of the twelve apostles to be given to it.’ Upon this hypothesis, it is inexplicable why the fathers who quote this Gospel of the Hebrews, e.g., Origen and Jerome, should so emphatically distinguish it from the Gospel of Matthew. It might also fairly be asked, why a Gospel of the twelve apostles, composed in a Jewish-Christian spirit, should, when it was afterwards found desirable to designate its author, have received the name of St Matthew rather than that of St James. Besides, the title secundum Hebrœos, seems from the first to denote an apocryphal production. Hence the hypothesis is in every respect untenable.2 2. Sieffert, in his above-mentioned essay, endeavours to prove the view frequently expressed by others, that St Matthew, whose name is included in the apostolic catalogue, and whose call is related (Matthew 9:9), is not identical with Levi, whose conversion is described in Mark (Mark 2:13) and Luke (Luke 5:27). Levi is said to have received a more general call, and not such a one as brought him within the apostolic band. This view is, however, very improbable. If Levi were formally called from the receipt of custom to follow Christ, as related by St Mark and St Luke-and if the same occurrence took place with respect to St Matthew, according to his own Gospel, and we afterwards find the name of St Matthew in the list of the apostles, but not that of Levi,-it is most probable that Matthew was known by the name of Levi to the two Evangelists, who both relate the history of a conversion coinciding with his. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 40: 02.031. SECTION III ======================================================================== Section III the authenticity of the second gospel Mark John, or John Mark, a disciple of the apostles, who accompanied the Apostles Paul and Barnabas, and afterwards Barnabas alone, on missionary journeys, who was subsequently the companion of Peter (1 Peter 5:13), and is said to have suffered martyrdom at Alexandria, is very decidedly declared by the primitive Church to have been the author of this Gospel. Papias, who refers the Greek Gospel of St Matthew to a Hebrew original, also refers the Gospel of St Mark to the oral preaching of St Peter. He relates that, according to the communications of the presbyter John, St Mark, as the interpreter to St Peter, committed to writing what that apostle delivered, not however in the order in which perhaps Christ spoke or acted, but in that in which St Peter arranged his deeds and sayings, according to the needs of his audience. Schleiermacher thinks that this information shows that Papias was not speaking of our Gospel according to St Mark, which always preserves a chronological arrangement. But neither John the presbyter nor Papias affirm that no chronological arrangement existed, but that this was not one of strict historical correctness. St Peter combined the sayings and deeds of the Lord according to his own views and the exigencies of preaching, and in this combination a certain sequence was formed; this forms the basis of St Mark’s Gospel, which thus gains in apostolical what it loses in chronological authority. If John the presbyter had in view the order of St John’s Gospel, he might well declare of this collection of life-like pictures from the life of Jesus, undivided into years, and omitting all notice of His ministry in Judea, that the original order (τάξις) had not been observed. Irenæus gives a similar account of the origin of this Gospel (adv. Hæres., iii. 1). After the death of St Peter and St Paul at Rome, St Mark, the disciple and interpreter of St Peter, committed to writing what the latter had preached. Clement of Alexandria, however, says that even during St Peter’s ministry in Rome, St Mark, at the request of many, took down much of what he delivered, and that St Peter, when he heard this, neither specially assisted nor prevented him (Euseb. Eccl. Hist. vi. 14). Tertullian and Origen agree, in the main, with this account According to the report of Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. ii. 15), St Peter is said to have authenticated this Gospel, and commended it to the Church under the guidance of the Holy Ghost. The universal recognition of the authenticity of this Gospel has not been extended to its conclusion (Mark 16:9-20), which, on both internal and external grounds, has been regarded as the addition of a later hand. That Eusebius did not include this paragraph, is shown by his remark, that the passage in which the departure of the women from the grave is related, formed the conclusion in almost all copies. Jerome, Gregory of Nyssa, Euthymius Zigabenus, and others, express themselves in a similar manner.1 The characteristic style of Mark is also wanting in this conclusion, his animated expressions, his repetitions, his use of uncommon and often of Latin words; while peculiarities are found which do not belong to this Evangelist. It is, however, overstepping the bounds of caution to reckon every creature (πᾶóá κτίσις), to speak with new tongues (γλώσσαις καιναῖò λαλεῖí), and similar expressions, among them. If less regard were paid to such isolated expressions, many of which, in the record of a life so variously developed, might well make their first or only appearance in single passages, and more bestowed upon the general manner in which occurrences are viewed, and upon the change of scene in this paragraph, a different conclusion might perhaps be arrived at, with regard to internal evidence. The fulness and boldness of the promise, in respect of the evidence of the senses, with which Christ sends forth His disciples into the world, the strong expression every creature, and similar ones, seem quite in accordance with the style of this Evangelist.2 It is also worthy of consideration that Irenæus, who lived a century before Eusebius expressed himself as above mentioned, quotes the present conclusion of this Gospel (adv. Hæres. iii. 10, 6). The circumstance that, in the earliest times, some copies had this addition, and some not, may be explained by the supposition, that an incomplete work of Mark came into the hands of the Christian public before the subsequently complete one. In such a work of quick execution and production, of sudden delay, and hesitation at a fresh chief incident, and of subsequent completion, the characteristics of Mark, as shown in many instances, are accurately reflected. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 41: 02.032. SECTION IV ======================================================================== SECTION IV the authenticity of the third gospel St Luke, the companion of St Paul on several of his missionary journeys, and the author of the Acts of the Apostles, is also known to us as the writer of the third Gospel. He himself, in the opening of the Acts of the Apostles, refers to a Gospel of which he was the writer. It must be inferred that Tatian was acquainted with the Gospel of St Luke, since he would hardly have sought to base his Diatessaron, or Gospel-harmony depending upon four Gospels, in the very face of the Church, upon an apocryphal production. We know, from the work of Tertullian against Marcion, that the latter was acquainted with this Gospel, which Tertullian reproaches him with having corrupted, because he found its more universal character, and its adaptation to Gentile Christians, make it more suitable to his system than those of the other Evangelists.1 Irenæus reckons St Luke among the four Evangelists; remarking, that as the companion of St Paul, he committed to writing the Gospel preached by that apostle.2 Origen and Eusebius also designate him as the author of the Gospel which tradition ascribes to him. According to Eusebius, it was a current opinion, that St Paul, when using the expression, according to my Gospel, intended thereby the Gospel according to St Luke. Jerome (Comment. in Isaiam, 6, 9) remarks, that the Greek education which Luke had received as a physician is apparent in his Gospel. The genuineness of this Gospel has been least opposed by critics, a circumstance owing, perhaps, to the fact, that the authority of this Evangelist is more easily attacked from a different quarter. St Luke, as a Hellenist and a disciple of St Paul, had not access to the chief mass of evangelical tradition as the other Evangelists. It was therefore more difficult for him, than for them, to obtain the Gospel treasure in its purity. But, on the other hand, he had, in the direction given to his mind by the teaching of St Paul, a more developed feeling for certain aspects and incidents of the Gospel history. In any case, he was so grafted into the genuine stock of primitive tradition by St Paul, who lived in frequent intercourse with the Church at Jerusalem, that the genuineness and purity of his narration cannot be disputed. note The question why St Luke is not named by Papias, might perhaps find an answer in our previous remarks on his testimony. In favour of the supposition, that by Aristion, the Lord’s disciple, spoken of by Papias, we are to understand the Evangelist Luke, it may be remarked: (1.) That he connects Aristion with John the presbyter, whom he calls, as well as the former, the Lord’s disciple; (2.) that he considers both as representatives of the oral tradition which he received from the immediate witnesses of the life of Jesus; (3.) that they appear, as such, to stand in a kind of contrast to St Matthew and St Mark, to whose written Gospels Papias appeals. According to the information of Isidore of Hispalis (de ortu, &c., c. 82), St Luke died in his seventy-fourth year; according to a notice in the work of Jerome (Catal. de vir. ill. c. 7), supposed to be an interpolation (see Credner, Einleit. &c., 129), he lived till the age of eighty-four. If it were in his youth that he accompanied the Apostle Paul, he might, if he attained an advanced age, as well as the Apostle John, have been known in his old age by Papias, who, in that case, would, in conformity with his maxim, have concerned himself with his oral communications, and not with his writings. This view, too, refers to the information of Epiphanius, that Luke was one of the seventy, and to the remark of Theophylact (Proœm. in Lucam), that he was, according to the assertion of some, the unnamed disciple of the journey to Emmaus. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 42: 02.033. SECTION V ======================================================================== SECTION V the authenticity of the fourth gospel The testimony which forms the appendix of this Gospel (John 21:24-25), declares that John was the disciple who testified and wrote what precedes it. We know that his testimony is true, say the witnesses. The genuineness, then, of this Gospel seems to be here vouched for by Christian contemporaries. In our times the worth of such testimony has been, at one time, represented as quite decisive, at another, as utterly devoid of value.1 A testimony accompanied by no signature, and forming an integral part of the matter testified, does indeed stand in a peculiar position. Such a testimony can have no direct value in our eyes; its force lies in the indirect value it obtains for us by the recognition of the early Church. The communities of Christians, among whom the first copies of this Gospel were diffused, were delivered from all doubts respecting its genuineness by this decisive assurance at its close. Doubt was, so to speak, challenged to make objections; and all possibility that this Gospel was for some time used without respect to its author, and a spurious tradition concerning its origin, gradually formed, was thus obviated. This testimony, too, acquires fresh weight in our eyes, through the Gospel with which it is connected. For, if it had not originated at the same place and time it would scarcely be found in all copies, but would have been wanting in some, like the conclusion of Mark’s Gospel. It can be easily explained why this Gospel at first should be more extolled by the Gnostics than by the orthodox Church itself. This Church, for the most part, had not yet attained the power of entering into the spiritual views of St John. It cherished and valued the treasure, but it was some time before it grew up to the full understanding and application of it. The Churches specially edified by reading the Shepherd of Hermas, could hardly maintain a Pauline point of view, much less attain to that of St John; and even when Hellenistically educated theologians began to use this Gospel, it hardly became popular,-indeed it can scarcely be said to be so now. But the Gnostics had, from the first, a speculative tendency; and the eternal relation of God to the world, explained by this Evangelist in his doctrine of the Logos, was the leading question of their whole system. If John did not answer this question exactly as they did, this was only another reason why they would take possession of this Gospel, perhaps in the same manner as Marcion made unlawful use of the Gospel of Luke. Thus also did the Valentinians, according to the testimony of Irenæus (adv. Hæres. iii. 11, 7), lay violent hands on this Gospel. Heracleon wrote a commentary on it; and even the Montanists made use of it, not, indeed, merely on account of the promise of the Paraclete, which they referred to Montanus, but because this Gospel corresponded with the really sound fundamental principles of their tendencies. On the other hand, the fact that the Alogi attributed this Gospel to Cerinthus, proves how lightly they formed this opinion, since the well-known views of Cerinthus could by no means be reconciled with those of a work setting forth the incarnate and crucified Son of God. It must be inferred that it formed one of the supports of Tatian’s Diatessaron, especially as he quotes it in his λόγος πρὸς Ἕλληνας, cap. xiii. Though Justin Martyr does not mention this Evangelist by name, we find in his writings so many echoes of the style of John, and such decided prominence given to the doctrine of the Logos especially, that his intimate acquaintance with this Gospel cannot but be assumed. His whole stand-point, which can only be explained by the existence of the Johannean basis, gives silent but important testimony to its apostolic character. Christians in those days, indeed, equally relied upon the Shepherd of Hermas; but the brilliant popularity of this work never obtained for it a recognition as canonical, because the spirit of Christian criticism prevailed in the Church. It was this spirit which caused Justin’s doctrine of the Logos to be esteemed apostolical.1 Theophilus of Antioch is the first Christian author who, in quoting from this Gospel, names St John as its author (ad. Autol. ii. 22). Irenæus (adv. Hæres. iii. 1) makes John conclude the series of Evangelists which he mentions. He says that John, the disciple of the Lord, who lay on His bosom, himself produced this Gospel, while living at Ephesus. Himself, i.e., in contrast to Peter and Paul, who caused their assistants, Mark and Luke, to write Gospels. He is followed by a series of fathers, who name John as the author of this Gospel, as Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Origen, Eusebius. The Gospel of St John, though less intimately known by the majority than the other Gospels, has nevertheless been regarded by the Church as the sublimest and most spiritual of all. The heart of Christ has been felt to vibrate in it, and the conviction that it was the work of John, the disciple who lay on the Lord’s bosom, has been a certain one. Hence the internal reasons for its genuineness were regarded by the early Church as unquestionable. The fact, then, that a series of critics should, in our days, have come to the conviction, that the internal nature of this Gospel itself gives rise to doubts of its genuineness, must be received as denoting an utter revolution of spiritual feeling. Bretschneider, indeed, suppressed his attack upon the authenticity of this Gospel, founded on arguments of this kind, in consequence of the effect produced by the replies.1 Strauss followed it up with doubts, now of a slighter, now of a stronger kind. He was succeeded by Weisse, Bruno Bauer, and others; and thus was formed a series, in which each ‘went beyond’ his predecessors, in disputing the authenticity of St John’s Gospel. Strauss frequently expresses in his work his doubts of the authenticity of this Gospel, discrediting the genuineness of the discourses of Jesus therein recorded, when tried by the laws of probability, and of the retentiveness of the memory.2 On the strange uniformity of the discourses of Jesus, he prefers allowing others, whom he cites, to express themselves, while he himself brings forward more prominently the uniformity found in the replies of the Lord’s Jewish opponents. ‘The misunderstandings are not infrequently so gross as to surpass belief, and always so uniform as to resemble a standing manner.’ Certainly it cannot be denied that the whole picture bears a strong impress of the style of John, who neither furnished, nor meant to furnish, a mere protocol. With respect to the constant recurrence of the misunderstandings, it may be observed, that it was one chief endeavour of this Evangelist to confirm by characteristic facts that general statement which he placed at the commencement of his Gospel: ‘The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.’ If the critic should find it strange that there should, in this respect, be ‘no difference between a Samaritan woman and one of the most educated of the Pharisees,’ we might refer to the universal character of this standing manner, prevailing, as it does, quite as much in our own days as formerly, and in which there is no difference between a Samaritan woman and a man of the most liberal education.3 Strauss himself here freely confesses that in many other cases, both the objections of hearers and the replies of Jesus are perfectly consistent. With respect to the law of the retentiveness of the memory, it is remarked, that discourses brought forth as these are, in connected demonstrations and continuous dialogues, are just of the kind most difficult to retain in the memory and faithfully to report. Here, then, we cannot expect a strict line of demarcation between what forms part of the Evangelist’s own mind and what is alien to it, nor an objectivity, properly so called. Such an expectation would involve an utterly false and unchristological assumption, obscuring the relation of an Evangelist to the Lord’s objectivity. Certainly the assumption is of more ancient date, being, in fact, that supernaturalistic view, according to which an Evangelist is but the literal reporter of the words and deeds of Christ, unalterably impressed upon his own mind. But for such an office, so choice and sanctified an individuality as, e.g., that of St John, would have been unnecessary. The distinctness of his remembrance does not consist in the scholastic retentiveness of his head; his evangelical memory is identical with his inner life, his spiritual views, and especially with his evangelical love and joy. A line of demarcation between his own life and that which was ‘alien,’ or, correctly speaking, most germane to it, would have been here quite out of place. But, it may be asked, is not the objective significance, the Christianity of his communications, rendered insecure by such a blending of his own life with the Gospel history? This would indeed be the case if we were obliged to own that John was unfaithful to his apostolic office, and had in any respect so brought forward the productions of his own mind as to give himself the greater prominence, and attract to himself the attention due to his Master. That this, however, is a view which cannot be entertained, has before been proved. There were, indeed, features in John’s character in which he surpassed Peter, and all the other disciples, as also features in which he was surpassed by them; but that he should, in any particular, surpass Christ, contradicts the significance both of the Master and of the disciple; or that he, like Judas, for instance, withdrew one single element of the glory appertaining to Christ’s power, entirely contradicts his apostolic character. Hence the colouring which the objective Gospel of the Lord obtains from St John’s mind can consist only in the form given by it to the composition and illustration of the evangelical material with which it was penetrated. Through him the infinite richness of the life of Jesus displays new depths, presents a new aspect, and and produces a new influence upon the world. It is incorrect to say that the sayings and parables of Jesus recorded by the other Evangelists were merely such as were more easy of retention. That which is most germane, most impressive to the individual mind, is at the same time most easily retained thereby. One mind will most readily remember numbers, another verses, a third philosophical formulæ; and it would be quite too idyllic a psychology to assert that the disciples, on the other hand, must have had a memory only for parables. Whence comes it, then, that the disciples of a philosopher know so well how to retain and use his formulæ? Can it be said, in an abstract manner, that these are retainable in this or that degree, and therefore this or that man retained them? Or may not the matter be better explained by attributing it to philosophical elective affinities? It would then be the christological elective affinity which caused John to ‘retain’ from the copious materials of the Gospel history that which was most retainable, nay, most incapable of being forgotten by himself. When Strauss further finds it inexplicable that John should not have recorded the agony in Gethsemane, this is the result of his assumption, that this Gospel is a mere collection of memorabilia without any fixed plan. The assumption is, however, a false one. John had a definite idea to guide him in its composition, and it was his plan which led him to pass by this great conflict. His intention was to exhibit the glory of the suffering Redeemer in the presence of His enemies, in the whole series of those various incidents in which it was displayed. Among the demonstrations of this glory, however, His agony is not entirely omitted; its result, namely, that serenity of mind with which the Lord afterwards confronted His enemies, and which He won in this struggle, being prominently brought forward. But this critic seems still more surprised, that John should, in the farewell discourse (John 14:1-31, John 15:1-27, John 16:1-33, John 17:1-26), present the Lord to us as one who had in spirit already overcome the suffering which was still before Him; while, according to the synoptists, this tranquillity seems afterwards to have been exchanged for the most violent agitation, this serenity for the fear of death. ‘In the so-called high-priestly prayer (John 17:1-26), Jesus had completely settled His account with the Father; all hesitation, with respect to what lay before Him, was so far past, that He did not waste a word upon His own sufferings. If, then, Jesus, after this settlement, again opened an account with God, if, after thinking Himself the victor, He was again involved in fearful conflict, must it not be asked: Why, instead of revelling in vain hopes, didst Thou not rather employ Thyself with serious thoughts of Thine approaching sufferings, &c.?’ Perhaps the critic might have found in the lives of Savonarola, Luther, and others of God’s heroes, analogies which might have led to a solution of this enigma. There is a great difference between complete victory over anxiety of mind, and complete victory over the natural feelings. In Christ’s conflict, there is not a shadow of irresolution or uncertainty; the same mind which in one Gospel utters the high-priestly intercession, in the others offers the high-priestly sacrifice, in the words: ‘Not my will but Thine be done.’ But He brings it as a fresh sacrifice, streaming with the blood of unutterable sorrow. Did not Christ express this sorrow to His Father in that most pregnant saying: If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me! A further difficulty is also discovered in the fact, that John had previously described a conflict analogous to that in Gethsemane, viz., in the scene where certain Greeks, who had come to the feast, desired to see the Lord, and His soul is described as being deeply moved on this very occasion. Strauss is of opinion that the two synoptical ‘anecdotes’ of the agony in the garden and the transfiguration are blended in this one circumstance; and thinks John’s representation strange, because Jesus is ‘in the open day, and amidst thronging multitudes, thus agitated, while he finds that of the synopists, who represent this as occurring in the solitude of a garden, and in the dead of night, more comprehensible. It is, however, in the nature of a presentiment to be aroused by contrast. The dark forebodings of Cassandra are excited by the festivities and hymns of rejoicing in the palaces of Troy; and it is at the coronation, which she was the instrument of bringing about, that Joan of Arc is struck with this tragic sentiment. These fictions are entirely in accordance with the psychology of heroic tragedy, if not with the psychology of everyday convenience. Thus also Christ weeps over Jerusalem amidst the hosannas of the applauding multitude. The feeling of security at mid-day, and of agitation during the darkness of the night, may be in keeping with the idyll, or with the domestic drama, but is out of place here. In one of Oehlenschlager’s plays a candid cobbler declares, that at mid-day he is often so bold that he is actually obliged to put some constraint upon himself to believe in God; but at night, in the dark forest, when the owls are hooting and the old oaks creaking, he could believe in anything that was required, in God or in the devil. Are we then to listen to the critic, and apply, in this instance, the standard of this magnanimous cobbler? Beside, the whole rhythm of this anxious presentiment is misconceived in the foregoing argument. Why should it not recur with augmented force? Is not such a recurrence quite in keeping with the higher and more refined regions of the world of mind? The shudder of terror, as well as other deep mental emotions, is rhythmical. Instead, then, of finding in the twofold recurrence of this foreboding, a mark of uncertainty in the narrative of St John, the traces of this emotion in the Gospels should be carefully followed up, to see whether it may not still more frequently recur, as, e.g., in the discourse with Nicodemus. Bretschneider asks, with reference to His high-priestly prayer, whether it is conceivable that Jesus, in the expectation of a violent death, could find nothing more important to do, than to converse with God concerning His person, His doings hitherto, and the glory He was expecting? In such a view, says Strauss, we arrive at the more correct notion, that the prayer in question appears to be not a direct outpouring, but rather a retrospective production; not so much a discourse of Jesus, as a discourse about Him. It might be asked of Bretschneider, what then could Christ find to do more important? Bequeath a library perhaps, or set papers in order, or make His escape to Alexandria or Damascus? There is nothing here to help the cautious critic, to whom making a testament and making a New Testament is an immense contradiction. The mountain does not come to the prophet. Willst den Dichter du verstehen, Musst in Dichters Lande gehen, is applicable to the prayer of the true High Priest and its reviewers. Strauss finds in it not a direct outpouring, but a retrospect. Is it to be wondered at, that feeling, in its perfection, should be vented entirely in thoughts? Or should the words have been intermingled with the Ohs! and Ahs! of an enthusiast, lest they should seem only a retrospect? Such reasoning is called forth by the old assumption of an irreconcilable antagonism between ‘head and heart;’ but attention must be called to the infinitely acute understanding, the perfect reflection exhibited in the structure of a blossoming rose, the beautiful type of a mind glowing with love. The leading idea of Weisse’s argument against the genuineness of this Gospel, has been already cited and refuted. The supposed duplexity of the Christ of the synoptical Gospels and the Christ of St John is an illusion. The ancient Church, in its intimate acquaintance with the subject, never perceived that double of the actual Christ, the John-like Christ, or Christ-like John of Professor Weisse. The view in question is connected with a multitude of erroneous assumptions. When it is said, for instance, that ‘in the portraiture of Christ, as given in the synoptical Gospels, the mind of the Evangelist is a medium of transmission wholly indifferent, while in that of John it is a co-operative power in the production,’ this assertion is entirely refuted by the fact, that each of the three first Gospels displays its own distinct peculiarity. Besides, according to this opinion, the synoptical portraiture of Christ would be a mere dull copy, that of John an artistic picture; and it might well be asked which was preferable. But in any case, the representation of John would still be a portrait of Christ. Weisse, however, subsequently withdraws such an assumption. ‘John gives us less a portrait than a notion of Christ; his Christ does not speak from, but about His person.’ But could He then not speak from His person about His own person? Is the Christ who converses at Jacob’s well with the woman of Samaria, and weeps at the grave of Lazarus, a mere notion-is this less a portrait than the Christ of the Sermon on the Mount? Weisse also proceeds upon the view that the Gospel of St John was composed independently of any settled plan. ‘In fact, it appears from the uniform character of the discourses, not to mention the selection of the events narrated, so entirely devoid of plan, that no other explanation offers itself to the unprejudiced reader than the accident that these, and no other occurrences, came to the authors knowledge; or, on the other hand, the equally accidental possibility of a connection of these, and no other narratives, with the matter in the possession of the author for the carrying out of his work,’ that is, with the discourses recorded by the Apostle John. The want of plan in this Gospel is only the assertion of the critic, which may, with equal or greater justice, be met by a counter assertion. It will be our task to affirm its entire conformity to a settled plan when we subsequently treat of this Gospel. A hint at its fundamental idea must suffice for the present. Throughout the whole composition, the Evangelist is carrying out the theme: ‘The light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not;’ or, as it is stated with greater detail, ‘He came unto His own, and His own received Him not; but to as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God’ (John 1:5-11). This was the fundamental thought upon which this Evangelist composed and arranged his Gospel from the material of his own reminiscences. This is the reason why he speaks so little of Christ’s Galilean ministry, and so much of His contests with the Jewish mind in Jerusalem; and why, as Weisse incorrectly puts it, ‘this Gospel makes almost all the occurrences it relates take place at Jerusalem’ (p. 122). Weisse sees also, in the connection of the didactic parts, marks of a compiler’s hand, and indeed of one who has but little independence of mind. ‘On actual investigation,’ says he, ‘the forced and laboured occasions for certain sayings and longer discourses, the frequently halting, and never really successful manner of the dialogue, the utter incomprehensibleness of many sayings and apophthegms, in the connection in which they are given, cannot but strike us.’ The critic then brings forward proofs, viz., examples in which the said incongruities between questions and answers are said to appear. One is met with, he says, in John 2:4, where Jesus gives the well-known answer to His mother’s observation: ‘they have no wine.’ That this answer is difficult to explain, cannot be denied. But this is owing to another property than incongruity; for as far as this is concerned, it is evident that the answer strictly refers to Mary’s remark. Weisse finds a second incongruity in John 3:5. His discovery concerning this passage is in the highest degree striking. When Nicodemus asked, ‘How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?’ and Jesus answered, ‘He must be born of water and of the Spirit;’ we have surely a correction of the most direct kind. It will not, we feel, be necessary to go through the critic’s whole catalogue in this manner. The narrative parts of this Gospel, which, according to Weisse, must be entirely set down to a ‘compiler,’ are next said to exhibit an utter absence of any general view. ‘An error of judgment in our Evangelist of the kind referred to, both with respect to the relation of Jesus to the Jewish people, and His manner of discoursing and method of teaching, in the presence of His disciples and opponents, testifies more plainly against him who thus errs, than all his details in particulars testify for him.’ Concerning this supposed error of judgment in the Evangelist, the critic might be sufficiently corrected by the cross as it appears in the statements of the synoptists, but especially by the plan of St John himself, which has indeed escaped his research. The graphic nature of the narratives has often been extolled as a proof of the authenticity of this Gospel. Weisse, however, finds, in the very details which render them so, marks which make them doubtful; and, by way of example, tests the cure at Bethesda by this assertion. It is said to testify against the possibility of the narrator being an eye-witness, ‘that, according to this narrative, we involuntarily receive the impression that Jesus was going about alone and unaccompanied when He met with the sick man, which seems (John 3:13) to be further confirmed by the fact, that the latter lost sight of Jesus in the crowd, as a solitary and unimportant individual.’ If then it really happened thus, certainly the impression obtained by the critic may testify against the fact of John’s being an eye-witness of this miracle, but not in the least against his faithful remembrance and record of a circumstance, which Jesus might possibly have related to him a quarter of an hour after its occurrence. The critic is, however, unable to furnish the slightest reason for his view; for Jesus might just as easily have withdrawn Himself from the observation of the sick man, by passing through the multitude with one or more of His disciples, as alone. The circumstance that Jesus began to question the sick man, unapplied to, is next said to excite attention, since, according to the synoptists, such was by no means His custom. But would one who was compiling a narrative so lightly have ventured to depict so original a feature? Did the peculiar character of the patient offer no reason for peculiarity of treatment? This man, who for so long a period had suffered others to take precedence of himself, who appears to have taken no special pains to find people to plunge him at the right moment into the water, who so soon after the benefit he received, lost sight of his benefactor, seems not to have possessed the energy with which many others entreated the Lord. He was not entirely helpless, for he had often attempted to profit by the troubling of the water, and to get into the pool by his own strength; but ‘while I am coming,’ says he, ‘another steppeth in before me.’ And yet no wish, no entreaty, no expectation, is heard to proceed from his mouth. No one can blame Dr Paulus if he suspects this man. That he was indeed no impostor, is shown by the readiness of the Saviour to perform this cure; he seems, however, to have been phlegmatic and irresolute in the highest degree. It was for this reason that Jesus so significantly inquires of him, ‘Wilt thou be made whole?’ and excites within him the desire which was so devoid of energy. The critic also finds the injunction of Christ: ‘Arise, take up thy bed and walk,’ ‘utterly inadequate,’ because the patient had already some strength, and could therefore in case of need stand up and walk. It would be but an insult to my readers to waste a word on this ‘utter inadequacy.’ The Jews understood the difference between his former and present walking far better. Hence they employed their casuistry in representing it as a sin, that so robust a man should be carrying his bed, an act which they had formerly allowed to the cripple as a work of necessity. This obviates the new difficulty discovered by the critic. ‘But if it was not allowed to carry a bed on the Sabbath, how could the sick man have had his brought to the pool on that day?’ These are the kind of incidents which excite the suspicions of Weisse, in a narrative which seems to him fit to be selected as a specimen. The free mention of the names of persons, towns, and districts by the Evangelist, forms another class of details. ‘A considerable part of these indications,’ says Weisse, ‘is so constructed, as to leave an involuntary impression that the narrator inserted them, to spare his readers the trouble it had cost him to make inquiries concerning scenes and persons.’ Among such indications are reckoned that ‘Bethsaida is called the city of Andrew and Peter;’ that when Cana is named a second time, the miracle formerly wrought there is recalled; that when Nicodemus again appears on the scene, he is designated as the same who came to Jesus by night; and others of a like character. This particularity of statement is, however, far more simply explained, by attributing it to the peculiarity of the author, than to the excessive laboriousness with which he prosecuted his studies of Gospel history, and with which he consequently imparted it to others. Could such information be so very difficult to obtain, in the later apostolic period of the Christian Church? Our critic is leading us imperceptibly beyond the sphere of the Church. Even in such a case, if the inquirer had appropriated the materials of others, it does not follow that he would impart it in the laboured manner supposed. But it well accords with the known character of St John, that he should mention with the emphasis of affection such places, for instance, as ‘Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha,’-‘Lazarus whom He raised from the dead,’ and such like. It is upon such arguments that Weisse founds his assertion, that the fourth Gospel, viewed as an historical authority, stands considerably lower than the synoptical Gospels, and must, in its general view of the character and person of Christ, and of the process of His history, be corrected by them. Though the critic does not commit himself to a distinction of the component parts of the Gospel according to their originality, yet he allows that ‘if anything in the whole composition is the work of St John, it is undoubtedly the so-called prologue (p. 134). If this prologue is regarded as an organic fragment needing completion by a corresponding organism, its nature is sufficiently manifested to enable us to infer such a completion as that furnished by the Gospel itself. The remark that such introductions to historical books are nowhere else found in the New Testament, cannot be brought forward as an argument against the unity of the fourth Gospel. The prologue harmonizes, both in style and view, with the whole work. Nevertheless, it is said to be an independent fragment. How far more does the prologue to the third Gospel differ from the Gospel which it precedes! and yet it is universally admitted as a component part. It certainly does need patience to follow the endless caprices, the tricks and turns of modern critical argumentation, for even a short distance. The Tübingen school has declared, by the votes of a whole series of authors, against the genuineness of the fourth Gospel. The train of argument by which Schwegler, in his work, Der Montanismus und die christliche Kirche des zweiten Jahrhunderts, p. 183, opposes the authenticity of this Gospel, may be regarded as an expression of sympathy with this criticism. The first argument proceeds upon the assertion, that the Johannean doctrine of the Trinity, as far as its degree of formal completeness and definiteness is concerned, anticipates the dogmatic developments of nearly two centuries. This remark is not peculiarly well adapted for placing the argument on a firm foundation. The Johannean doctrine of the Trinity certainly surpasses, both in purity and fulness, that of Sabellius and Origen; nay, it may be with truth affirmed, that it has not even yet been exhausted, in its entire ideality, by the utterances either of Christian dogmatism or of religious philosophy. It follows, that if the fact of its surpassing posterity is taken as a starting-point for such an argument, we shall find ourselves on the high road to prove that this Gospel is not written yet. The critic, indeed, himself reminds us that ‘divining spirits often pass over a long series of intermediate results.’ But ‘he is surprised, that not only are the other books of the New Testament devoid of the Johannean doctrines of the Logos and the Paraclete, in this form, but especially, that Justin seems to have no notion of any apostolic predecessor of such a kind. As far as the other books of the New Testament are concerned, the Christology of Ephesians 1:3, &c., and Colossians 1:15, &c., is essentially the same as that announced in the fourth Gospel. Originality of view and expression, however, is an essential feature in our notion of an apostle. It would have been preposterous if St Paul had used the same expressions as St John, either in this or in any other respect. And if Justin did not make his saying (Apol. maj:), καὶ γὰρ ὁ Χριστὸς εἶπεν, ἄν μὴ ἀναγεννηθῆτε, οὐ μὴ εἰσελθῆτε εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν τῶν οὐρανῶν, exactly conform with St John’s words, John 3:3, such freedom of expression is so entirely in the style of Christian antiquity, that it is quite surprising to find our author regarding this circumstance as ‘a most striking proof’ that he was unacquainted with this Gospel. The author supposes that ‘Justin, as the sole promulgator of this doctrine in his days, would have felt bound to extend to his innovation the shield of apostolic sanction.’ In this remark ‘the innovation’ is a pure assumption, entirely devoid of foundation. If it be for a moment granted, that the doctrine of the Logos was already known to the Church in Justin’s days, through this Gospel, the whole remark falls to the ground. A second argument of this author is founded on the remark, that a decided distinction between the Logos and the Pneuma is wanting in the earlier fathers till Irenæus, and that this distinction or dogmatic evolution does not makes its appearance before the era of this Gospel and of Montanism. It is hence supposed ‘that both originated in one and the same sphere of theological movement.’ But here also the critic overshoots the mark in a manner which must be very inconvenient. If this confusion of the Logos with the Pneuma lasted till Irenæus, and if its abolition marks the epoch when St John’s Gospel and Montanism appeared, both must have been subsequent to Irenæus. With respect to the relation of the fourth Gospel to Montanism, the author brings forward the similarity between the theories of the Montanists and of St John concerning the Paraclete, in which respect he refers to Baur, Trinitätslehre, p. 164. In this case, such similarities are mentioned as, that both systems represent the Paraclete as the revealer of futurity, that both give prominence to His judicial agency. The author has indeed a feeling of the difference between the fourth Gospel and Montanism with regard to the Paraclete. ‘There we find the tranquil mysterious feature of Christian gnosis, here the coarse reality of the formal dead; there Christian consciousness in its peaceful untroubled perfection, here in its wild, enthusiastic current,’ &c. (p. 189). Yet he thinks, p. 204, he cannot but bring up the question as a dilemma, whether the Gospel is the postulate and relative factor of Montanism, or vice versa; and arrives at the result, that the Gospel seeks to mediate ‘between Jewish and heathen Christianity, two contrasts which stand exactly opposed to each other in their most concrete forms and sharpest distinctness, as Montanism and Gnosticism,’-to admit both extremes in a transfigured form into the Church, and to point out the correct evangelical medium between them. Apart from the fact that the strongest expression of judaized Christianity is contained, not in Montanism, but in Ebionitism, we would ask, how could this Gospel so mediate between the mutilated Christology of the Montanists, which made the Son inferior to the Pneuma and the Doceticism of the Gnostics, that the Catholic doctrine of the Son of God, and of His perpetual presence in the Church, should be the result? How could it be possible to find any correct evangelical medium between the constrained and morbid asceticism of the Montanists, and the gloomy asceticism of the Gnostics which misconceived the corporeity? The author himself seems to produce but an extremely one-sided medium, one namely which accuses judaized Christianity as savouring of Marcionism (p. 210), and favours heathenized Christianity, by struggling towards the conclusion, that ‘according to the Gospel, it was only a spiritual body in which the risen Saviour appeared to His disciples.’ How the author can reconcile the Marcionism which he fancies he finds in the Gospel, with such passages as John 5:39; John 8:39, it is not easy to perceive. He should have more explicitly stated what he understands by a ‘spiritual body,’ having shortly before remarked, that the risen Saviour insists upon the ‘materiality of His mode of existence more strongly here than in St Luke.’ This, at all events, is certain, that the fourth Gospel could as little introduce into the Church a judaized Christian as a heathenized Christian ‘extreme’ which it had ‘transfigured;’ and, least of all, that having committed itself to so erroneous an enterprise, it would be able to maintain its canonicity. The Gospels know nothing of finding this kind of happy medium among themselves, which the author is so taken with. The fact is, that Christianity, even in apostolic times, could not but, from the very first, contend against both the christianized Jewish and christianized heathen views of the world, and oppose these delusions. Its mediation consisted in developing and defining its own nature in opposition to both. With respect to the principal matter, it is not difficult to see that the Paraclete of St John is very different from that of Montanus. The former appears in the world contemporaneously with the glorification of Christ by His death and resurrection (John 7:39); the latter appears in the Church with the person of Montanus,1 or with the establishment of his school (Tertullian, de virginibus velandis, c. 1).2 The former comes as the remembrancer; He speaks not of Himself; He brings no new revelation, but glorifies, as its vital principle, the living unity of the Gospel history (John 14:26, John 16:13). The latter does not appear as a remembrancer of the Gospel history, but rather extinguishes the remembrance of the past and the present, and makes new communications to mankind.3 Finally, the former founds no church or kingdom different from that of the Son; He brings no third revelation to surpass the revelations of the Father and the Son, but completes the one perpetual revelation of the Father by the Son, to the Church (John 17:1-26). The latter, on the contrary, is interested in making his revelation appear as a new, another, a third one; and they who proclaim it, separate themselves from the Church universal.4 From these essential differences, which manifest plainly enough the contrast between the mature catholic historic life, and the gloomy enthusiasm of separatism, a multitude of minor ones may be developed, as, for instance, the difference between the healthy energy of the spiritual life in St John’s Gospel, and the morbid, nay, convulsive passivity of the spiritual life of the Montanists. No further detail, however, is needed to destroy the illusion that Montanism is to be regarded as the postulate, and relatively as the factor, of the fourth Gospel. This author brings forward the well-known question concerning the day on which the Lord celebrated His last Passover, as a prominent difficulty in the way of acknowledging the genuineness of the fourth Gospel (p. 191). According to Irenæus and Polykrates, St John and the Asiatic Church were accustomed to keep Easter in the night of the 14th and 15th Nisan, after the Jewish fashion. ‘But what,’ says the author, ‘if the same John, in his Gospel, makes the 14th the day of Christ’s death, and the 13th that of His last Passover, thus depriving the date of the Eastern celebration of Easter of its ecclesiastical and historical sanction?’ ‘This is, then,’ says Bretschneider, ‘an evident contradiction; and since the attestation of this fact stands upon a firmer basis than that of St John’s Gospel, this contradiction becomes an evidence of the non-authenticity of the latter.’ The author thinks that the evident purpose of this Gospel is to oppose the Judaic-Christian Passover which was customary in Asia Minor. Its origin must therefore, in any case, date from the middle to the end of the second century. On the other hand, it may be asked, how could Tatian already appeal to four recognized Gospels in support of his work on the Gospels, if this Gospel did not appear till his own days, and was then intended to oppose so powerful a tendency as that of the Asiatic Church? Or how could Irenæus reprove the Romish bishop, Victor, for making the time of the celebration of Easter a subject of contention, if he could not but know that the fourth Gospel took up the same position as Victor, and if he highly prized this Gospel, and gave it an equal rank with the other three? How speedily must this polemical Gospel have gained universal respect in the Church, if in the time of Apollinaris, a.d. 170, it had to struggle for it in Lesser Asia from an antagonistic stand-point, and had in the time of Irenæus, about a.d. 200, and even earlier, obtained general recognition in the Church? We must, moreover, contemplate the incidents in which this opposition on the part of the fourth Gospel is said to appear. The assumption (p. 196) that even the meaning of the celebration of Easter itself was quite differently understood by the Eastern and Western Churches, may be demurred to. The Eastern Church was as little Jewish as the Western; and it is therefore incorrect to say that ‘the Oriental Easter had no other meaning and no other authority than that of being a continuation of the Jewish rite, which had no specifically Christian signification.’ The legalism of the Oriental celebration referred entirely to the time, not to the meaning of Easter.1 This must have appeared the same to the Christian Church everywhere, according to the maturity of the Christian spirit (1 Corinthians 5:7-8). It is quite in keeping that the death of Christ, the body of the dying Redeemer, should be spoken of under the image of the paschal lamb (John 19:33-37). The Jewish Christians would have been Talmudists, if the intimate relation between this death and its type had escaped them; and the critic, in fact, most unjustly assumes that such talmudistic unbelief existed in the churches of Asia Minor. The peculiar difficulties lie in the passages quoted, which refer to the Lord’s last celebration of the Passover. Why did some of the disciples think that by the words, ‘That thou doest, do quickly,’ Judas was bidden by the Lord to buy what was needed for the feast? This could not have been possible unless the commencement of the feast had been already at hand, that is, unless it had been the evening of the fourteenth Nisan. If it had been the thirteenth, there would be no reason for the pressing word: do quickly. Purchases could then have been made till the evening of the following day, since the feast would not begin till the evening of the fourteenth. But if it were on this evening, it might seem to some, on hearing the words, that Judas had too long delayed the purchase of what was necessary for the feast, and that Jesus was urging him to provide for it as speedily as possible. Then, indeed, the words ὧí χρείαν ἔïìåí εἰò τὴí ἑïñôÞí do not refer to the paschal lamb itself, but to what was wanted besides for the whole feast, which, in this circle, would probably be provided just before its commencement. This view of the passage also answers to the words (John 13:1), which have been considered the beginning of these difficulties with respect to the time of the last Passover: Πρὸ δὲ τῆò ἑïñôῆò τοῦ πάσχα, εἰäὼò ὁ Ἰçóïῦò ὅôé ἐëÞëõèåí αὐôïῦ ἡ ὥñá, ἵíá μεταβῇ ἐê τοῦ κόσμου τούτου πρὸò τὸí πατέρα, &c. We are here transported to the moment in which, on one hand, the celebration of the Passover, on the other, the hour when Jesus should depart out of this world unto the Father, were at hand. This departing out of the world is the New Testament parallel to the Old Testament departure of the children of Israel from Egypt, and the word seems chosen by the Evangelist with reference to that departure. The night of the real, and of the typical departure are identical: it is the night on which the fifteenth Nisan begins. The departure, the redemption, and the deliverance or salvation from death by the atoning blood on which this redemption was founded, are, both in the celebration of the Passover and in the Lord’s Supper, the principal matter, the primary, or at least the commemorative idea. Neither the death of the typical lamb, nor the death of the true Paschal Lamb, Christ Jesus, were actually represented, but assumed in the celebrations, as the event on which they were founded.1 Thus the killing of the paschal lamb took place on the fourteenth Nisan, not as being the festival itself, but as a preparation for the festival, which was itself held on the evening of the fourteenth Nisan, i.e., at the beginning of the fifteenth Nisan. It was on this day of the month also that the Lord’s Supper was instituted; for the death of Jesus was then celebrated in anticipation. If it be asked why, if Christ considered the paschal lamb a type of His death, did He not command His disciples to celebrate the Supper after His death? it may be answered, that this ideality is in conformity with the New Testament. It is just a sealing of that more obscure Old Testament ideality, by which the pious spirit looked, in the celebration of the Passover, to something greater than the preservation in Egypt, and the deliverance from the house of bondage, by which, indeed, it had anticipatively celebrated the death of Christ. Hence Christ also connects His Supper with the Passover, and causes the one to come forth from the other, as the full-blown rose does from the perfected bud. The moment was at hand when Jesus began to wash His disciples’ feet: hence John says, ‘Before the feast of the Passover.’ The washing of their feet was to be, to the disciples, the introduction to that holy night. If it had taken place a whole day before the Passover, they could not have seen in it a distinct reference to that festival. The best support which the reasoning of this author seems to find, is the remark, made by the Evangelist, concerning the Jews who led Jesus before Pilate, that they themselves went not into the judgment-hall, lest they should be defiled, ἀëëʼ ἵíá φάγωσι τὸ πάσχα. If these words are regarded as strictly referring to the eating of the paschal lamb, Christ must certainly have been crucified on the fourteenth Nisan, and have partaken of the Last Supper with His disciples on the preceding day. But it is questionable whether φαγεῖí τὸ πάσχα is to be thus strictly interpreted. Some, especially Lightfoot and Bynæus, refer these words ‘to the so-called Chagiga, or the sacrifice combined with still more cheerful rejoicing, which took place before the close of the first day of the Passover.’1 Lücke does not, however, consider this view a correct one. Bynæus remarks, that since the defilement incurred by entering the house of a Gentile would only have lasted one day, these Jews would not have feared it, if the eating of the paschal lamb were to take place in the evening, that is, on the next day. Lücke, on the contrary, observes that Bynæus only supposes, but does not prove, that entrance into a Gentile house involved only the day’s defilement. This may, however, be settled by reference to the passages, Acts 10:11, &c., and Leviticus 11:23, &c. It is certain that it had become a custom among the Jews to extend the law concerning defilement by dead unclean animals, to defilement by Gentile habitations. Bynæus and Lightfoot, however, if they extended the expression φαγεῖí τὸ πάσχα beyond its first and strictest meaning, need not have limited it to the sacrificial meal of the first day. The author of the essay Zu dem Streite über das letzte Mahl des Herrn (Evang. Kirchenzeitung, 1838, No. 98) rightly remarks: ‘The expression, to eat the Passover, designates the consumption of the paschal food in the whole extent of its meaning. This consisted of a lamb, with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, on the first day of the Passover; and for the remaining days, first of unleavened bread, and secondly of peace-offerings.’ It may, however, certainly be assumed that the words φαγεῖí τὸ πάσχα must gradually have obtained the same significance in Jewish ears as, to celebrate the Passover. Christians celebrate the Supper and Christmas (Weihnacht) in the middle of the day; the Romanist says, I am fasting, when he eats fish on Friday. Fasting is the definite notion; the eating of fish is incidental. And thus, in the Jewish Passover, the eating of the lamb was the root from which the whole feast arose, and so far the whole festival might be included in this expression. We are not then obliged to understand here one definite meal, the desire to partake of which caused the Jews to hesitate at entering the Prætorium. They desired to keep themselves ceremonially clean during the feast; and it was a special part of their observance of the Passover to avoid the Gentile hall of judgment during the middle of the fifteenth Nisan, the feast having already commenced. In further proof of a discrepancy between St John and the synoptists, concerning the time of the Passover, it is also said, that the former twice says of the day of Christ’s death, that it was παρασκευὴ τοῦ πάσχα (John 19:14, John 19:31) (p. 200). The statement of the author is here inaccurate. In John 19:14, we find ἦí δὲ παρασκευὴ τοῦ πάσχα; while in John 19:31, on the contrary, we have ἐðåὶ παρασκευὴ ἦí; and this latter word is referred to the preceding: ἵíá μὴ μείνῃ ἐðὶ τοῦ σταυροῦ τὰ σώματα ἐí τῷ σαββάτῳ. Thus it is evident that preparation, παρασκευὴ, is here a stereotyped expression, to denote the day before the Sabbath, the Friday; and that the preparation of the Passover, in this connection, cannot denote the time of preparation for the Passover, but only the Friday occurring during the time of its celebration. Finally, the question, why this Evangelist does not relate the institution of the Lord’s Supper, must be answered by a glance at the construction of this Gospel. In any case, it can as little be adduced as a proof of non-authenticity, as, e.g., the circumstance that the institution of baptism is not related. We might even ask the critic how it happened that the whole ancient Church did not perceive the antagonism of this Gospel to the statements of the three first Gospels, with respect to the time of Christ’s last celebration of the Passover, or that, if they did, they accepted the latter without difficulty? Polemic subtilties which were unobserved by the Church, which were never brought forward against the Quartodecimians, could never have been the actual motive of this Gospel. On this assumption, either the Evangelist ill understood polemics, or the Church ill understood polemic expressions. Another mark of non-authenticity has been found by this critic in the relation of the fourth Gospel to the Apocalypse. ‘The Apostle John,’ says he, ‘is the undeniable author of the Apocalypse. History bears the strongest and most emphatic testimony to this fact.’ But since it is merely assumed, and not proved, that the Apocalypse is heterogeneous to the Gospel of John, it will be unnecessary to bring forward what has been elsewhere said against this assumption.1 This might, indeed, be a good opportunity of keeping ‘criticism’ to its word with respect to its concession regarding the Apocalypse. Such an attempt, however, would be but labour lost. So long as the conclusions it arrives at vary almost from man to man, and from five years to five years; so long as it turns every defective and contorted view into an argument, it would feel much astonished at being kept to its conclusions. If we would, however, be convinced that criticism is rushing onwards on a suicidal course, we must contemplate the ever varying and ever transient results to which it ‘advances,’ till we at length stand with it upon the dizzy height, whence it plunges into the abyss of shame. It brings the Gospels, as far as their origin is concerned, within reach of the apocryphal region, driving them from the centre to the limits of Christendom, till it finally places them in a position in which, like offended spirits, they turn and sit in judgment upon their insolent and perplexed judge. According to Weisse, the Gospel of St John was the work of some unknown compiler, who made use of certain records, still extant, from the hand of the Apostle John, and consisting of isolated reflections relating to the life of Jesus. These reflections are themselves, however, ‘the laboured product of the disciple’s mind, in its endeavour to seize that image of his Master which was threatening to dissolve into a misty form, to re-collect its already vanishing features, and to cast them in a new mould, by the help of a self-formed or borrowed theory concerning that Master’s nature and destination:’ p. 110. The Gospel itself is said not to have been composed till a later period, and by a compiler living at a time remote from the matters it treats of. According to Schwegler, the Gospel of St John belongs to a series of reformatory writings which, appearing about the middle of the second century, mark the commencement of a reaction against Judaism. But it was the manner of such attempts, especially when they were united with peaceful aims, to arrogate that apostolic authority which was on their adversaries’ side in favour of their own tendency, and by cutting away the ground under the feet of the opposing party, to preserve the common apostolic point of union (p. 214). Here, then, this Gospel is, in fact, but a spurious work, imputed to the Apostle John, the patchwork of an impostor opposing apostolic relations. According to Bauer, the Gospels are poetic productions of the Evangelists, founded on the Christian consciousness of the Church. In this inventive agency, Mark has retained the largest amount of genuineness, Luke has surpassed Mark, and Matthew, Luke. ‘The fourth’ leaves all the rest behind him. ‘When a scarecrow is pulled to pieces, and the purpose for which it was set up is perceived, there is nothing more of it left,’ says he, in a pause during the process of ‘pulling to pieces’ ‘the history of the resurrection of Lazarus’ (Krit. vol. iii. 185). So unsuccessful, in his opinion, is the work of the fourth Evangelist. He thus also characterizes him: ‘The unnamed writer is an airy vision, an airy vision first formed by the fourth himself; and, in this instance, the fourth has for once made a lucky hit, by giving his composition such an author. At first he sought to make it appear that there was another Gospel, derived from an eye-witness, and in fact written by one. An airy vision, however, would be the only fitting author of such a writing as the fourth has handed down to us.’1 Lützelberger2 exports the Gospel which has been called the heart of Christ still further. According to him, the fourth Gospel (see Weisse) is all of a piece, in contrast to the synoptists, who exhibit a mosaic, unequal appearance, and in whose writings differing tones and strange discrepancies appear. This Gospel is said to have originated in Edessa, or its neighbourhood, a distant part of Asia. ‘The author of this Gospel,’ argues the critic, ‘could not possibly have been acquainted with the form of the Gospel history, as handed down by the three other Gospels.’ But this is accounted for, when it is known ‘that it originated on the other side of the Euphrates, and therefore beyond the limits of the Roman power,3 where the influence of the churches of Jerusalem, Antioch, Alexandria, and Rome was not so considerable.’ Thus this Gospel is said to have arisen as far as possible beyond that sphere of existence which was more peculiarly that of the Church! The pretended polemical views of the Gospel are also said to support the assumption of the author. He finds much that is warped in the external polemical tendencies of this Gospel, because its inner nature, its idea, and the vital unity with which this is carried out, are hidden from him. First of all, for instance, the Gospel is said polemically to oppose John’s disciples. ‘It is shown with all possible care, that John the Baptist absolutely declared, that not himself but Jesus was the Christ.’ ‘It must, however, be remembered, that the Sabæans, or disciples of John, were spread over Galilee, Syria, and the farther parts of the Parthian region, since they still exist in Persia.’ The Gospel is further said to oppose the Docetæ (p. 276). Now Syria and Mesopotamia were well known as the special seats of Docetism. The author therefore ought, in fairness, to have shown how it happened that, in a church which was originally thoroughly Docetic, a Gospel should have originated, spread, and been accepted, which entirely opposed this tendency. The author, however, is so little acquainted with the specific nature of Docetism as a necessary result of that dualistic principle, which opposes to the good principle, the evil principle existing in matter, that he further on makes the author of the Gospel himself a Docetic. The earthly, the coarse material, is in this Gospel that which is opposed to the divine, which is subdued and subjected to the power of evil, to the prince of the world (p. 284). ‘The doctrine of the Logos, or the doctrine of the good Lord of heaven, necessarily introduced the opposite doctrine of the evil Lord of the world:’ p. 286. And this Evangelist, who is thus himself a Docetist, is said to have opposed Docetism. This is the position whence ‘criticism’ plunges into the abyss! The pious Hans Sachs, after long misconception and abuse, found an ‘apologist’ in Göthe, when he said, ‘In Froschpfuhl all das Volk verbannt, Das seinen Meister je verkannt.’ The misconception and ill-treatment which ‘the fourth’ has so often experienced in our days, will perhaps soon call forth a general disposition in theology and science to apply this sentence of Göthe to those critics who have misconceived St John. At any rate these critics have to deal with a very different John from the venerable Master Hans of Nuremberg. notes 1. In the work, Das Evangelium Johannes nach seinem innern Werthe und seiner Bedeutung für das Leben Jesu Kritisch untersucht von Dr Alex. Schweizer, the genuineness of this Gospel is, on the whole, maintained; at the same time, however, the hypothesis that this Gospel is interspersed with interpolations, which are the work of a later hand, and designed to contribute a somewhat Galilean addition, is carried out with much ingenuity. Considerable difficulties are, however, opposed to this hypothesis, even when but generally considered. It might fairly be asked, How could this Gospel have been so abundantly interpolated without this circumstance having been, at any time, or in any manner, noticed in the Church? If it had been interpolated before its propagation in the Church, John was mistaken in those to whose care he committed his work. If it were interpolated subsequently, it might be expected that manuscripts must be found which would support the original against the subsequent form of this Gospel; as, on the other hand, it is generally in this manner that subsequent additions are discovered. It may be further asked, Why should the original form be devoid of a Galilean element? The Evangelist might indeed have had a plan which led him more especially to depict the ministry of Jesus in Judea, but could hardly have formed one which would induce him to exclude events which took place in Galilee. Was the interpolator already acquainted with the offence which modern criticism would take at the lack of the Galilean element in John, and desirous to obviate it beforehand? Could he misconceive the completeness of this Gospel? We would point to this completeness as a fact which decides the question. If it is once recognized, no place is found for admitting interpolations. The author starts with the ‘appended twenty-first chapter.’ He finds in the passage, John 20:30, the formal conclusion, and considers the twenty-first chapter to be appended in a manner unprecedented in the Gospels. Now it cannot be denied, that the passage in question does form a conclusion to that exhibition of the manifestations of Christ’s glory, which were designed to call forth faith in Him. But it may be asked, whether the fundamental idea which guided the Evangelist in the composition of this Gospel, might not admit an epilogue, as a counterpoise to the prologue which introduced it. The prologue sets forth the eternal life of Christ, preceding His appearance in the world; the epilogue seems intended to represent His spiritual government in the world, as it was to continue after His return to the Father. To the prehistoric life of Christ, John the Baptist is the chosen witness. In conformity with his custom of representing the general by significant particulars, the Evangelist names him only, though many more testified to the coming of Christ. To His post-historic life the disciples Peter and John testify, as two strongly contrasted representatives of all the conflicts and triumphs of the kingdom of God. In the life of Peter, Christ specially manifests Himself as the ever present Lord of His Church; in the life of John, as the Lord of glory who will shortly return from heaven. Such an epilogue completes the circle, in which the end of this Gospel significantly and definitely unites with its beginning, the prologue. The author then proceeds upon the assumption that the John 21:24-25 are an addition by a later hand,-an assumption which we will admit without discussion. This concluding remark, however, is next said to show that the appended narratives are from the same later hand. ‘He is conscious of having appended a narrative, and therefore assures us that it would be possible to make an infinity of insertions.’ We may, however, rest assured, that any one who felt it possible to narrate so much, would not have contented himself with the addition of one narrative to the Gospel, when he had, moreover, once made a beginning; while, on the other hand, he would hardly have selected from his materials a narrative so emphatically a concluding one. Secondly, it is said that John could not himself have corrected the report circulated among the disciples in the manner indicated. Why not? All that is done is to set aside a false and superficial interpretation of a deeply significant saying of Christ, and this can by no means appear ‘word-splitting,’ even though it does not at the same time give the correct meaning. Thirdly, the narratives are said to be of a legendary kind, and not related in the style of the Apostle John. But let, e.g., John 21:7 be compared with John 20:4, and how minutely are they in accordance! Such a transaction as here takes place between Christ and Peter, could not possibly have arisen in the realm of the legendary, nor was there any of the disciples who would have so entirely understood and preserved its whole depth, power, and tenderness, as John. With respect to the style of this paragraph, Credner, after enumerating the expressions which are not in the style of this apostle, in the paragraph John 7:23-52, John 8:1-11, says, ‘CJohn 21:1-25 presents appearances of an entirely different kind. There is not one single external testimony against it; and regarded from an internal point of view, this chapter exhibits almost every peculiarity of John’s style.’ The passage John 19:35-37 is further regarded as an interpolation. Here the Perfect μεμαρτύρηκε is thought striking. But the Evangelist might well thus express himself with reference to the fact, that as an Evangelist he had, throughout the course of a long life, laid great stress upon this striking circumstance; and he designates his μαρτυρία as ἀληθινὴ, because as believing testimony, it had been united to and penetrated by its object. It was because his μαρτυρία had this veracity that ‘he knoweth that he saith true’ (ὅτι ἀληθῆ λέγει). The constant vigour and accuracy of his memory is derived from his living in the truth. Nor can the choice of the adjective ἀληθινὸς be regarded as a mark of want of genuineness. The addition ἵνα καὶ ὑμεῖς πιστεύσητε is certainly striking, and can only be explained by the fact, that John attributed great importance to the circumstance that the legs of the crucified Jesus were not broken (ver. 33). That this circumstance should strike him as a wonderfully minute coincidence between the treatment of the typical, and the history of the true Paschal Lamb, and should be a powerful confirmation of his faith, is entirely consistent with the ‘ideal’ John; and this ‘external matter’ could scarcely seem to him anything else but a real manifestation of so specially ideal an incident. The importance attached by this Evangelist to the recognition that Christ was the true antitype of the paschal lamb (John 1:29, John 1:36, John 6:53, &c., John 13:1-38.), appears from several passages of this Gospel. Hence it must have been significant in his eyes, that even this solitary fact, that the legs of the crucified Saviour were not broken, should designate Him as the Paschal Lamb. Why should not this sense for the significant have been specially characteristic of John, whose custom it ever is to seize the general in the particular, in the decidedly concrete, or whenever a clearly purposed symbolism offers the opportunity? The paschal lamb was the sacrificial repast of travellers, of fugitives; it referred to non-ritual sacrifice. This circumstance was specially expressed by the fact that it was roasted whole, that a bone of it was not broken (Exodus 12:46). This symbolical trait was repeated in the case of the corpse of Jesus. It also was not treated according to law by the civil authorities, and still less sacrificed according to the Levitical ritual; but was a sacrifice which, during the most violent storm of the world’s history, was offered ‘without the camp,’ in strict historical reality, for the redemption of His people. This agreement between the type and the reality is so speaking, that another than John would scarcely have remarked upon it.-Among lesser interpolations this author further includes John 18:9. The words ἵνα πληρωθῇ seem to him to be not happily applied to the passage John 17:12, because here a bodily, there a spiritual, preservation is spoken of. ‘This intermixture or confusion of bodily with spiritual destruction, is in glaring opposition to the thoughtful and ideal tone of this Gospel.’ But what if, in their bodily preservation at this time, the Evangelist saw the pledge of their spiritual preservation, as was in fact the case? (comp. John 12:36; Luke 22:31-32.) Offence is further taken at the remark of the disciples (John 16:30), that Jesus knew all things, because it relates to the fact that He anticipated their objections and questions. The apostle, however, is here pointing out an important moment, namely, that in which the light first burst upon the disciples, that Jesus must leave them. It dawned upon them, however, by means of the disclosure in John 16:28; and in the fact that Jesus had given them certainty by this disclosure, they recognized the omniscience of His insight of the uncertainty of their minds, and of the depths of truth.- John 2:21-22 is also said to testify to ‘the same alien spirit.’ The author first considers the interpretation of the words (John 2:19) λύσατε τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον, &c., which John gives in John 2:21 as his own (‘But He spake of the temple of His body’), as incorrect. He asks, Could John have so expounded them, and moreover have called this the exposition of the disciples, when the correct meaning-viz., ‘the destruction of the Jewish form of the theocracy, and the establishment of a purer one’-appears in Acts 6:14, &c.? The difficulty which exegetes have for some time found in this passage disappears at once, when it is considered that, from the evangelical point of view, the destruction of the Old Testament theocracy and the destruction of Christ’s body must appear identical. It was only by the death of Christ that the Old Testament form of the theocracy was legally dissolved (Romans 7:4). The Jews could not put Christ to death, without at the same time spiritually casting a brand into their temple. From that time forth it was doomed to destruction, and the Old Covenant abolished. It could not have been legally abolished in any other manner than by condemning Christ by a hierarchically legitimate proceeding. John therefore perceived here also, the deep relation between type and antitype.-The critic then proceeds to the examination of the longer passages which he regards as interpolated; among which he reckons the miracle at Cana (John 2:1-12), the healing at Capernaum (John 4:44-54), the miracle of the loaves and fishes (John 6:1-26)-i.e., the history both of the miracle itself, and of the return across the lake. First, the miracle of Cana is said to stand in opposition to what is said, John 1:50, of the greater works of Christ which were to follow the σημεῖον, John 1:51. This miracle, however, can hardly oppose the expectation of those greater works of Christ, which had been previously excited. The first argument rests upon a view of the meaning of miracles, according to which a distinction is made in an abstract manner between these and the agency of Christ upon the spiritual life. It is further adduced, as a fact unexampled in the writings of John, that the whole occurrence contains neither a discourse, nor conversation of Jesus. This remark is however opposed, e.g., by John 5:5-9. This miracle is also designated as one utterly magical, and, ‘in a moral sense, scarcely conceivable.’ This miracle is certainly one of the most difficult, but it only follows that it makes large demands upon the patience and confidence of the penetrating and exegetical mind. Finally, it is said, that the belief here exhibited by Mary, is inconsistent with the unbelief subsequently ascribed to ‘His brethren’ (and Mary). And Mary? Even His brethren (John 7:1-53) were only unbelieving in that higher sense, in which the impatience and self-will of a superstitious belief appears to the evangelical mind as unbelief. The other remarks are easily dismissed. It can surely offer no difficulty that Jesus had been invited with His disciples, although it is not known how this was done, for an invitation might be given in a hundred different ways. But that His disciples are said to have ‘believed in Him’ after the miracle, although they believed in Him before, is an emphasis entirely consistent with this apostle’s mode of expression. Among the examples cited to show that the expression ἡ ὥρα μου, in John, always means the hour of Christ’s death, and is therefore inaptly used in this place, John 12:27 might well have an opposite effect, and yet the hour is here more generally designated ὥρα αὕτη. What then is the meaning of this expression, but that Jesus is speaking of His hour, in direct opposition to the false and erroneous notions of others? Is the expression ὁ καιρός μου quite adapted to express this contrast, when it relates to moments? When, indeed, it does not relate to them, time is opposed to time (ὁ καιρὸς ὁ ὑμέτερος, John 7:6). So also the expression αὐτοῦ ἡ ὥρα (John 13:1) forms a contrast to the hour of the typical Passover, which was contemporaneous with that of His departure. His hour is everywhere that fixed upon for the temporal development of His life, in the counsel of God, in opposition to the calculations, wishes, and opinions of men. It is with such a reference to the divine appointment that it is said, Luke 22:53 : αὕτη ὑμῶν ἐστιν ἡ ὥρα.-In the miracle of healing (John 4:44-54), a difficulty is first found in the circumstance, that it is said, John 4:43, that Jesus went into Galilee, and that His motive for so doing is explained, John 4:44, by the words: Αὐτὸς γὰρ Ἰησοῦς ἐμαρτύρησεν, ὅτι προφήτης ἐν τῇ ἰδίᾳ πατρίδι τιμὴν οὐκ ἔχει. It must, however, first of all be remarked, that the interpolator would be inconsistent not with the Evangelist, but with himself, if any general contradiction were found in the declarations of John 4:44-45. Hence the apparent contradiction in question can by no means be regarded as a sign of interpolation, unless the passage begins with John 4:45; but then the contradiction occurs in the passage which belongs to John, John 4:44 being connected with John 4:43. Consequently the explanation of this difficulty might be passed by; for, at all events, it advances nothing in favour of an interpolation. The connection of the passage may, however, be easily maintained, by attributing an inaccuracy of expression to the Evangelist. Jesus departs from Samaria as a traveller to Galilee in general. He does not take up His abode in Nazareth, His πατρίς strictly speaking, and that from the motive stated in John 4:44. At all events, πατρίς must be limited to His native town. For the sphere of a prophet’s continual disparagement cannot be His native country, but only His native town. If then we are obliged to concede an inaccuracy of expression, it is more easily explained by the style of John, who everywhere deals in parentheses, than by supposing an interpolator beginning his matter with a contradiction (John 4:44-45). The passages, John 4:46, in which Cana is again designated as the place where Jesus made the water wine, and John 4:54, where this striking miracle is said to be the second that Jesus did when He was come out of Judea into Galilee, are also said to be doubtful. These traits are, however, among those which Weisse regards as peculiarities of style in the fourth Gospel. According to Weisse, therefore, these very traits are decisive for the genuineness of the passage. So inconsistent are the humours of critics! John 4:48 is said to be still more difficult. ‘How could this man, who travelled with so much confidence towards Jesus, in the expectation of a miracle, such as had not yet been seen in Galilee, have deserved from Jesus such a rebuke in answer to his believing request?’ He was indeed one of those many inhabitants of Capernaum who would never have concerned himself about Jesus, who had taken up His abode among them, unless a domestic calamity had arisen; and the rebuke is expressed as mildly as possible. The man is actually corrected in a threefold manner by Jesus: first in his request that He would hasten back with him; then in his second, that He would heal his son in His usual way; thirdly, in his assertion that his son was at the point of death. The first need of the painfully excited father was tranquillity of mind, and a faith reposing on the quiet means of unexpected help. Jesus gives him this faith; hence the use of the word τέρατα in His reproof. It is not till he acquiesces in the form of help which Jesus points out, that he proves himself possessed of true faith. Finally, this narrative is said to be a parallel to that of the centurion in the synoptic Gospels (Matthew 8:5), but far more indistinctly related. Too much stress is, however, laid upon the external resemblances of the two narratives; and the decided contrast they exhibit is lost sight of, when they are looked upon as identical. The centurion of the earlier Gospels merely states his distress: he is too humble to solicit Jesus to make a long journey for his sake, and too believing to think this necessary. He is almost shocked when Jesus makes him the offer of coming to heal his sick servant. In what an opposite spirit does the nobleman of St John’s Gospel approach Jesus; and hence how different is the treatment he meets with! The internal character of both histories is decisive with respect to the question of their diversity. It is as little possible to confound this βασιλικὸς with the ἑκατόνταρχος, as to take two men whom we might meet at different places one after another, and whose countenances were entirely different, for the same persons, because they both perhaps wore a red collar to their coats. For the rest, this miracle is not described merely as the second Galilean one, but as the second which Jesus wrought in returning from Judea to Galilee. Lastly, with respect to the feeding of the multitude (John 6:1-26), it is said, first, that the miracle itself is abruptly introduced, in marked disharmony with what precedes, and in internal disconnection with what follows. It is certainly striking that the Evangelist should so suddenly change the scene. ‘Jesus was teaching in the temple at Jerusalem, ver. 47. Suddenly, and without mention of any return to Galilee, John 6:1, after an indefinite μετὰ ταῦτα, continues with ἀπῆλθεν πέραν τῆς θαλάσσης τῆς Γαλιλαίας,’ &c. The author’s opinion is, that the passage John 6:1-26 is interpolated in the discourse which Jesus, according to chap. 5, delivered in the temple, and that the discourse John 6:27-71, is connected with the former, and was consequently spoken in Jerusalem. If, however, we view the Gospel under this assumption, and omit the supposed interpolation, we shall find the change of scene quite as sudden as before. At the close of John 5:1-47, we find Jesus still in the temple at Jerusalem; at the beginning of the seventh, we are informed that ‘after these things Jesus walked in Galilee;’ and then, immediately thereafter, He goes again to Jerusalem; and we hear nothing of His ministry in Galilee. Thus the choice offered us is, whether we accept, according to the existing text, the sudden change of scene, with a sojourn in Galilee filled up with occurrences; or, according to the hypothesis, an equally sudden change of scene, with a sojourn utterly barren of events. We pass over the isolated expressions which are said to recall the synoptists; the indefinite τὸ ὄρος finds, indeed, the contrast which defines it, in the shores of the lake. The narrative is next said to be contradictory of what follows it. ‘How strange is it, that the men who had been so miraculously fed, and so struck by this deed of Jesus, that they (John 5:15) desired to take Him by force and make Him a Messianic king, should, on the very next day, encounter Him with “What sign (σημεῖον) showest Thou then, that we may see and believe Thee?” And how still more incomprehensible is it, that they should (John 5:31) just hit upon the thought that a miracle similar to the manna would suffice them!’ We can point, however, to something equally ‘strange’ in John 8:1-59, where it is said, John 8:30, that ‘many believed on Him,’ and in John 8:37, that Jesus said, ‘ye seek to kill Me.’ Is not this contradiction greater? Here, however, it is to be referred to no ‘interpolator;’ but the return of such characteristic ‘singularities’ rather points to a peculiarity of view in this Evangelist, and consequently testifies to the genuineness of the present passage. That these people are so ‘strange,’ is the very fact which the writer desires to represent, Jesus Himself reproaches them with it in the words, ‘Ye seek Me, not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves and were filled.’ The author finds this saying striking; but it evidently arises from the thought, that the miraculous meal has two sides: as a miracle, it attracts the higher sense, by means of its spiritual element; as a meal, however, it attracts the common sense, by means of its utility. To these utilitarians, the miracle of Jesus must have appeared less than that of Moses, not merely because Jesus had made use in the miracle of a natural substratum, but because Moses had, so to speak, continuously provided for his people by the manna, and because Jesus had given them to understand that they must not seek the realization of such utilitarian ideals from Him. These people, as such, are just the Ἰουδαῖοι of John, and not Israelites within the limits of Judea, or ‘the upper class and their dependants at Jerusalem, the mention of whom is said to betray that this discourse was originally delivered at Jerusalem.’ That Jesus then, should oppose to the notions of these men, who, in the chiliastic spirit of a corrupt Judaism, would have made Him a king, the doctrine of the true bread of life, is quite what might be expected, and can by no means be regarded as inconsistent with the miracle itself, as the author supposes (p. 85). According to this supposition, the saying of Jesus, John 6:27, ‘Labour not for the bread that perisheth,’ must also deny the account of this miracle in the synoptical Gospels. On the return across the lake, the author remarks, ‘The whole narrative, the feeding of the multitude and the return, is, in its manner, style, indefiniteness, and lack of intuitive vision, unlike the genuine writings of John;’ hereby assuming that the ordinary style of this apostle is definite and intuitive. It is, however, questionable, whether this can be affirmed of his statement of external relations in their actual connection and chronological sequence. The peculiar excellence of this apostle lies in entirely opposite qualities, and the very clumsiness of the narrative, especially John 6:22-24, might rather be adduced as a sign of the genuineness of the passage. An interpolator would have been careful to manage this crossing over more conveniently. When it is further said, John 6:16, ὡς δὲ ὀψία ἐγένετο, and John 6:17, σκοτία ἤδη ἐγεγόνει, this shows no diversity of style with the expression, οὔσης ὀψίας, John 20:19. In both cases, it was intended definitively to state that it was actually night. In the latter case, this would be made more evident by the circumstance καὶ τῶν θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων; but upon the lake such a circumstance was wanting, and it was consequently necessary to use a more definite expression. ‘The five and twenty or thirty furlongs’ of John 20:19 are entirely opposed to this author’s conjecture, that the disciples, according to the meaning of the Evangelist, rowed along the northern shore of the lake, and that Jesus followed them on foot along this shore, and overtook them at a short distance from their destination, after they had been detained by the storm. If the passage across the lake, which amounted to to forty furlongs, had been only twenty-five or thirty, it would even then have been impossible that this circuitous route should have amounted only to the same number of furlongs. The πλοιάρια of John 20:23 cannot, moreover, be the ships in which the people returned, as is here believed (p. 93). The intention of the Evangelist is very clear, though his expressions are not so. When the people, on the morning after the miracle, were standing on the shore, they well knew that only one vessel had been at the disposal of Jesus and His disciples, also that only the disciples had departed in this vessel, and that Jesus was not with them. They could not, therefore, but conclude that He was still on their side of the lake, and would have sought Him there. But other ships had arrived from Tiberias, nigh unto the place where they had eaten bread, and Jesus might have used one of these for His return. As, therefore, they did not find Him, it seemed to them increasingly probable that He had used such an opportunity of crossing, and they immediately entered the ships that they might seek Him in Capernaum. 2. A very valuable contribution towards the solution of the inquiry, whether the supper spoken of John 13:1-38 was the last Passover which Jesus celebrated with His disciples, and that connected with it, concerning the day on which Jesus died, has been furnished by Wieseler in his Chronological Synopsis of the Four Gospels. Comp. section 5 of the above-named work: Von dem letzten königlichen Einzug Jesu in Jerusalem bis zu seinem Tode und seiner Grablegung. Die Leidenswoche.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 43: 02.034. PART VI ======================================================================== PART VI The origin of the four gospels ======================================================================== CHAPTER 44: 02.035. SECTION I ======================================================================== Section I various views of the origin of the four gospels A definite historical tradition concerning the origin of the four Gospels is in existence, and has already been the subject of our discussion. This tradition explains the most essential peculiarities of the four Gospels; viz., that Matthew keeps so closely to the Hebrew national consciousness; that Mark is not so exact about the chronological sequence of his statements; that Luke has so much that is catholic, and consistent with the point of view of Gentile Christianity; and, lastly, that John furnishes us with so few of the circumstances communicated by the other three, because his intention was to supply what they had omitted. The modern scientific consideration of the Gospels finds this tradition insufficient to explain the remarkable phenomenon exhibited by the relation of the four Gospels to each other, viz., that, on the one hand, they present a unity as complete as if they were but one work; and, on the other, as much diversity as if neither were aware of the existence of the other. Various explanations have been given, especially in the work of Gieseler: Historisch-kritischer Versuch über die Entstehung und die frühesten Schicksale der schriftlichen Evangelien (p. 30, &c.).1 The first attempt at explaining this phenomenon insists upon regarding one writing as the primitive Gospel, the matter of which is said to be the basis of each separate synoptical Gospel. Some have considered that this primitive basis was formed by the original Gospel of Matthew, others by the so-called Gospel of the Hebrews, and others again by an original Aramæan Gospel. Eichhorn considers that compilations from this primitive Gospel originated the three first Gospels. Such an origin of the Gospels is, however, so artificial and far-fetched, that it can scarcely be understood how it was possible that the critic could recognize such a monstrosity of compilation in the first models of the free and beautiful originality of the New Testament, the hideous mask of a literary corpse in these firstlings of a specifically new literary life.1 The Gospels are equally regarded as still-born, compiled productions without originality, when either the Gospel of Matthew, or that of Mark, or that of Luke, is looked upon as the basis on which the others were formed. But this dead fabrication system has been applied not merely to the relation of the second and third Gospels to the supposed first, but also to the relation of the third to the supposed second. According to such suppositions, the second Evangelist made use of the work of the first, and the third of the works of the second and first, in compiling his own. Concerning the order, however, in which this paralytic authorship took place, as many hypotheses have been formed as the transposition of the names Matthew, Mark, and Luke would furnish; e.g., Matthew, Luke, Mark; Mark, Matthew, Luke, &c. This is the permutation system.2 To get at the secret by means of permutation, criticism has formed a kaleidoscope of all the existing possibilities, and then shaken this kaleidoscope again and again, thus producing every possible combination in this one lifeless kind of view. Operations of this kind might perhaps compete in rigidity, insipidity, and misconception of the living originality of the said writings, with any of the performances of a talmudic-rabbinical style of treatment. A more striking instance of the tendency to construct the fairest mystery of unity in variety, and variety in unity, the mystery of the most glorious vitality, not merely out of the deepest, but also out of the most pitiable kind of death, has seldom paraded itself in learned pomp before the world. The view which attributes the separate or remaining Gospels to lesser evangelical writings or essays, representing single incidents in the life of Christ, or to memoirs, may be regarded as the corresponding vital counterpart to that dead assumption of a primitive Gospel which would degrade them into external compilations.3 Such a view entirely corresponds with the idea of the solemn remembrance in which this life was preserved. But the same difficulties to which the former hypothesis gave rise, are experienced when these memoirs are regarded as primitive records, which the Evangelists regarded and treated as diplomatically certain and authoritative, and not as assisting and completing the living and independent tradition of the Gospel. Both assumptions agree in the one point of giving a written foundation to the synoptic Gospels, and are opposed to the view which accepts an oral Gospel tradition, as a new and different explanation of the phenomenon in question. Nothing is more certain, than that the Gospel facts must have been preserved in a most powerful tradition. The Christian Church at first found its daily edification, nay, its heaven, in this tradition. But the view of its development assumes, in the field of criticism, the character of regarding this tradition as the exclusive basis of the Gospels. It is in the maintenance of this exclusiveness that this view also becomes hypothesis, and betrays its hypothetical character by running into opposite extremes. On the one hand arises the view, that tradition was gradually formed into a verbally fixed, oral Gospel, and that it thus gradually assumed a liturgical character. Here then tradition appears in its highest form, as a crystallization.1 On the other hand appears the notion which represents Gospel tradition as the obscure stream of excited, heathenish popular imagination, which, carrying along with it a stratum of Gospel facts, or even of primitive fictions, deposited them as half or wholly ‘washed-down legends,’ like water-rolled pebbles against the dams of the written Gospels.2 The latest hypothesis, which regards the Gospels as productions of the Evangelists, whose minds are said to have expressed in naive fiction the consciousness of the Church, need only be mentioned for the sake of completeness.3 It cannot but be an enigma to subsequent ages, that in an age which prided itself upon highly esteeming what was original in subjective and individual life, it could ever have come to pass, that the origin of the Gospels should be regarded as an enigma-an obscure and difficult enigma. For it is owing to the very circumstance that the vital originality of the separate Gospels has been ignored in the most unworthy manner, that this difficulty has become so great and unsolvable. The actual factor was misconceived, through misconception of the peculiarity of the Evangelists; how, indeed, could it be possible to comprehend the mutual relation of the Gospels, when this was not duly estimated? It is true that the former doctrine of inspiration had laid the foundation of this depreciation of the personal in the Gospels. As the too high demands of a former harmony brought forth the rationalistic tendency, so did the former degradation of the Evangelists produce the whole series of views, which regarded them as mere mechanical transcribers. But her own poverty and helplessness carried criticism even farther than the results of this misconception prescribed. Even the factors granted were not treated in an historical manner, when it was supposed that the hypothesis of a written basis to the Gospels must overthrow the tradition-hypothesis; and, on the other hand, that the latter could not exist in the presence of the former. For want of transposition into the scene, and of submissively accepting the appearance of the gospel-spirit in the Gospels, they have been alternately regarded as the production of one or other of a series of pale spectral forms; and it has been insisted, that they originated in either literary compilation or a liturgical rhapsodical hymn, or the plastic formative presentiment, or finally the fixed idea of a species of poetry, which was said to have no consciousness of its artistic doings. Gospels formed in such a manner, would indeed have been far below that glowing, living, solemn remembrance which animated the apostolic Church and its Evangelists. note Gieseler in his above-named work, p. 35, &c., dismisses the hypothesis which would make one Gospel the basis of the others in the following words: ‘Besides the absence of all historical grounds, these hypotheses may also be met in the following manner. (1.) It is not evident what motive could have induced the later Evangelist, if he were acquainted with the work of an able predecessor, instead of circulating the same, with the addition of a supplement if he thought it necessary, to have brought it out under his own name, after a very unimportant revision, at least with respect to its contents. (2.) In whatever order the Gospels may be arranged, there always remains in the earlier, much which the later have omitted; yet they could not have considered this incorrect, and it would be difficult to prove that just these passages were those that were unsuitable for all classes of readers. (3.) How contrary is the work of revision which must be accepted, to the spirit of an age which produced but few authors! Here the later Evangelist gives whole narratives and isolated sentences an entirely different position; he must therefore have turned over his predecessor’s work, selecting first from one place, then from another. In one place he begins by transcribing verbally, and then exchanges words and thoughts; at another time he omits thoughts; and finally changes expressions for their synonyms without alteration of thoughts. And yet, with all this affectation, these writings bear so distinct an impress of unassuming simplicity, that even their enemies recognize it. (4.) This hypothesis is especially refuted by the remark, that, let the order of the Evangelists be what it will, we are always forced to concede that, in many cases, the later Evangelist not only exchanges the clearer statement of his predecessor for a more defective and inaccurate one, but often apparently, though not actually, contradicts his authority, and that in a manner which must be intentional, since inaccuracy is insufficient to explain it.’ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 45: 02.036. SECTION II ======================================================================== Section II the origin of the gospels in general The Christian originality of the Gospels is the decided factor by means of which both their unity and diversity, and the wonderful relation resulting from both, must be explained. But when we would explain this originality, we find ourselves almost induced, with respect to the relation of the Gospels to the actual Gospel history, to attribute to each a peculiar kind of origin. Besides, the conviction is pressed upon us, that each Evangelist has, in the appropriation of his matter, preserved his personal dignity, and by his manner of statement, impressed upon it his own peculiarity. Lastly, we find that each Gospel displays a special arrangement, arising from a peculiar plan, depending on special motives and considerations. Thus we obtain a triple impress of originality in the Gospels; they are original in source, in composition, and in plan. It is no wonder, then, that they who have misconceived their peculiarity in all these respects, should have erred in a threefold manner. The first factor in the composition of the Gospels, is the peculiarity of the sources whence their material was derived. These, in their full extent, include the following particulars: first, direct remembrance; secondly, tradition; thirdly, written memorabilia; fourthly, already existing Gospels. It is taking a defective view of the resources of an Evangelist, to set up the tradition-hypothesis alone, without duly estimating the great importance of the direct memory of the apostles. Especially must it be taken into account, as forming the basis of the first Gospel, viz., the original Hebrew Gospel, which was the immediate work of Matthew, and of the Gospel of John. It cannot be wholly, at least, denied to Luke; and Mark is as near to it as he was, during his life, to the Apostle Peter, and to the apostolic church at Jerusalem. The powerful effect of the evangelical memory was, however, in each Evangelist, the very motive that induced the composition of a Gospel. Direct remembrance was completed by tradition. The transition from one to the other is exemplified in those incidents, for the complete knowledge of which tradition was needed even by Matthew and John, the actual witnesses of the life of Jesus. Much which appertains to His history-the occurrences of His childhood, of His retirement, and of His private life-could only have been known to His disciples by communication. Not only their former, but even their present vocation, separated them occasionally from Him, so that the information of one would often need completion by the information of another. Thus fragments of memory and tradition formed various combinations, which gained unity from the fact that the memory of each individual disciple was continually excited by, and came in contact with, the general memory of the whole Church. Tradition then, intimately united indeed with apostolic remembrance, appears to have been the actual source of those Evangelists who had had but little, or even no direct intervention in the facts of the Gospel history. The freshness of this source was maintained by means of the continuous preaching of the Gospel;1 its purity and brightness, by the Spirit of the Gospel. The agency of this Spirit is of the highest importance in the origin of the Gospels. Without His assistance a disciple could hardly have written a Gospel. He was the remembrancer, not so much with regard to non-essential circumstances, as to the relative distinctness and significance of the several facts of the whole Gospel history. It is in the certainty wherewith He both explains and assumes the perfect actuality of the Gospel history, that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of God. They who are unable to distinguish between the foreboding, myth-forming spirit, and the Holy Spirit hovering over the completed history, and assuming it as the scent does the full-blown flower, have not yet learned to distinguish between the beginning and the climax of the human race; the historical development of tens of centuries is to them a blank. The Evangelists lived and breathed in the element of this reminding Spirit;-could He then have left them so soon as they began to write Gospels?2 Hence it was under the overshadowing of the Holy Ghost that the Word of God solemnized also His literary incarnation. The Gospel-forming tendency first manifested itself in the production of those lesser evangelical memoirs, which many who had enjoyed the privilege of intercourse with Jesus felt themselves impelled to write, in order to preserve any circumstance which seemed either specially remarkable, or which was at least the subject of direct memory. If it be asked, how such or such an apostle managed to keep this or that difficult discourse in his memory, such a question strikes at the questioner himself. If it be further asked, how these Galileans found time and skill to compile the facts of the Gospel history, the fundamental law is lost sight of, that it is a vital energy which sets quills in motion, whether in the bird or the man. Genius gave the pious Hans Sachs and the profound Jacob Böhm no rest; and that was the reason why these worthy shoemakers became such profuse authors. Undoubtedly, the art of writing itself originated in the impulse to preserve what was worthy of record, and not in accidental scribbling. Nay, man even learned to speak more by the urgency of the desire and necessity which he felt to express his thoughts, than by an experimental play upon his organs, or by the imitation of the lower animals. The remarks which have been made against the primitive records of the Old and New Testament revelation, upon the assumption that the art of authorship was not yet sufficiently understood in the world to account for the production of such memoirs, at such times and places, are expressions of the same lack of spiritual perception which asked concerning Jesus, How knoweth this man letters, having never learned? Never could the necessity of preserving glorious experiences by means of writing, have been more deeply felt than amidst the circle of Christ’s witnesses. Nay, it may, without exaggeration, be maintained, that if the art of writing had not as yet existed in the world, it must have arisen among them. Those apostolic men were not more the men of their age, than they were the men, or the children, of the Spirit of Jesus. Even the women who accompanied our Lord, may also have written from their own point of view, that, as priestesses of His Spirit, they might preserve in written records His precious memory. The Spirit of Christ poured out upon His disciples at the completion of His ministry, nay, proceeding from Him at all times, must indeed have often impelled those who were acquainted with His life, to commit to writing some of His sayings and deeds. It is not to be wondered at, that there were many, as St Luke assures us, who took such works in hand. Could the spring-tide of a new religion, nay, of a new humanity, the marriage feast of the reconciliation between heaven and earth, pass by without the guests and witnesses of this glorious life feeling constrained to preserve its most important circumstances in writing? At all events, a multitude of such memoirs did arise. These many lesser primitive Gospels, then, naturally formed the firm and fixed centre of evangelical memory and tradition within the circle of the apostolic Church. It is probable that a selection of such writings as St Luke had to deal with, was at the disposal of each of the Evangelists. These Gospel memoirs form the transition between tradition and those complete Gospels, into which the written announcement of the Gospel has settled. These Gospels arose one after another during a short period of time, and within a circumscribed sphere. Hence it may have been possible that one Evangelist was acquainted with the work of another, that the later might make use of the labours of the former. Mark might perhaps have known that of Luke, or at all events the Hebrew original of Matthew. According to tradition, John was acquainted with all the synoptical Gospels. When we take into account the true communion of the Spirit in the apostolic Church, and the manner in which the life of Christ was interwoven into its life, we can easily understand how, from all the various sources, a living unity of general tradition, a special manner of viewing and narrating the Gospel history, would be formed, in which all the apostles and Evangelists would have more or less resemblance to each other. The spirit of their faith, of their blessedness, of their worship, who made them all to be of one heart and of one soul, formed a mutual and most delicate rapport, in which the very phraseology of the Gospel, the whole manner of its announcement, received a peculiar and singular stamp. This unity of view and statement, occasioned as it was by oneness of spirit, supreme simplicity, memory, mutual co-operation, and common written authorities, was the cause of that extraordinary unity which is perceived in the narratives and style of the Gospels, and especially of the synoptical Gospels. This phenomenon is therefore caused by the marvellous agency of the Spirit of sacred Gospel remembrance in the primitive apostolic Church. Hence, they who look upon the precious fruit, which bears witness to the fulness of apostolic vitality, as the mere dead production of the poorest kind of compilation, are soon puzzled by the fact, that the originality of the several Evangelists everywhere animates this admirable unity, by touches of the richest variety. The critic would fain seize and handle this living unity as a mere dead uniformity; but when the rich play of Gospel individuality which forms its other side is perceived, his peace is at an end, and the terrible problem drives him like a restless spirit though the region of hypotheses. It is part of the notion of Christianity, that by its sanctifying operations it should awaken and bring to perfection, on one hand, the whole unity of individualities; on the other, their entire variety. Hence the four Gospels contribute, even in their form, to the glorification of the Christian spirit, by exhibiting in large and plastic forms that vital congruity by which the Christian spirit is proved to be such. Hence the sacred originality of the Evangelists may be designated as the second factor of the Gospels, and of the peculiarity of their mutual relations. The authenticity of the four Gospels being assumed, it might fairly be expected that each should exhibit a definite and significant character. This is involved, first, in the notion of such evangelists as the Church could appropriate. Evangelists of such a kind could not but be prominent characters, and must consequently express themselves in a characteristic manner. But it is also involved in the notion of the mature primitive Christian, that he should exhibit his peculiarity in his work; for the spirit of Christianity, by means of its horror of annihilation, introduces individuality into a new life, and causes it to appear in the full glory of its definiteness. But if important characters appear in their full freedom, they will be distinguished from each other by strong peculiarity of feature. Thus the Gospels must be looked upon as the writings of distinct, important, and definite characters. It is by the exhibition of their originality that they manifest themselves to be the effects of such original forces. Hence each must of necessity appear in its full peculiarity; and that criticism which would pass sentence upon them without a notion of this circumstance, must, for that very reason, be characterized as incapable or unchristian. But when it goes so far as to attribute the delicate manifestations of vital originality found in the Gospels to death, all that play of feature pertaining to living personality to the convulsive efforts of paralysed and half-dead individuals, such representations arise as those which make, e.g., the ardent expressions of Mark, choice ‘printing’-the deeply significant and lyrically beautiful impulses of John, tedious prolixities. A true appreciation of the Gospels must be preceded by an appreciation of their writers. In this place, however, we can but state this principle, and must treat of the characteristics of the several Evangelists in another part of this work. But, finally, when we remember that the great characters who wrote the Gospels attained their powers of Gospel authorship by means of definite and special occasions for their exercise in Christian interaction with various persons and circumstances, we have already admitted a third factor in the production and form of the Gospels. The character of the evangelist is neither an egotistical nor a vanishing one. It is on one side infinitely defined, and therefore, on the other, infinitely definable. Love makes him so pliable, that though ever building on the same foundation, he becomes all things to all men; that he preaches quite differently at Athens and at Corinth, for this very reason, that he everywhere preaches the same truth in its essential spirit, while adapting its form to the varying circumstances of his audience. If then we take this Christian principle into account, we cannot but view the peculiar form of each separate Gospel as resulting from the peculiar spiritual state of those for whom the Evangelist wrote. If due allowance is made for this factor, it will be perhaps better understood, e.g., why the Gospel of John and Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians exhibit so much relationship. This reference of each Gospel to the circle for whom it was first destined, will explain the Old Testament references of Matthew, the sharply-defined pictures of Mark, intended as they were for the practical mind of the Roman, the catholic characteristics of Luke, and the ideal and theologic views of John. The Pauline Epistles show how variously the various necessities and receptive powers of the different churches could affect the one forcible and determined pen of a Paul. And thus must the various constellations in the kingdom of God have still more powerfully influenced the Evangelists, who, according to the law of liberty, of special vocation, and of love, devoted themselves each to special circles of readers. By the interaction of such situations with the characters of the several Evangelists, were formed, under the leading of the Divine Spirit, the plans of the several Gospels, whose immediate and intended destination was impressed not only on their fundamental characteristics, but also on their separate features; so that, even in this respect, each separate Gospel could not but receive a different physiognomy. note The Evangelist Luke has, in the introduction to his Gospel, pointed out the various stages of general Gospel tradition. (1.) Direct tradition, represented by the ἀπʼ ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται καὶ ὑπηρέται. (2.) The transition from memory to tradition. The ἀπʼ ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται are emphatically so called, and form, as it seems, as eye-witnesses from the beginning of the life of Christ, a contrast to those who were only αὐτόπται, &c., during a shorter period, and who seem denoted by the word ἡμεῖς. (3.) Tradition, in a narrower sense, pointed out by the words: παρέδοσαν ἡμῖν. (4.) Memoirs; πολλοὶ ἐπεχείρησαν ἀνατάξασθαι διήγησιν, &c. The ἐπεχείρησαν seems to designate not so much the boldness of the attempt, or the insufficiency of the execution, as the first rudiments of Gospel composition.1 (5.) The formation of the comprehensive Gospel: ἔäïîå κᾀìïὶ, &c.-Thus the first factor in the formation of a Gospel is stated in its full extent: the second and third are sufficiently indicated in the third and fourth verses. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 46: 02.037. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III origin of the gospels in particular The various factors which operated in the production of the Gospels, took various forms, exerted various degrees of power, and consequently produced various kinds of interaction in the life of each separate Evangelist. Hence the sum of their effects could not but be different in each particular case. The total sum of effects is formed by the motive, the plan, of each Gospel, and by the germ which gives to each its own special form of development. The simplest motive was the cause of the Gospel of Mark. We here behold an Evangelist who deals rather in vivid and copious representation than in profound doctrines and views, seizing with the ardour and animation of youth upon the Gospel tradition, and depicting in lively traits the ministerial life of Christ. But the tradition of the Gospel history which guided him, had already taken, through the statements and views of Peter, a special form exactly corresponding to his requirements; for the style of this versatile Evangelist’s narrative is, from the very first, determined by the lively views of this ardent and congenial, but stronger apostle, who, equally with himself, displays a preference for the concrete. Besides, this Evangelist was urged to write his Gospel by Romans, and indeed by single members of the Roman Church. The Roman Church, as such, must have expected from him a statement of the facts of the life of Jesus; but the wish of individuals, as such, would impel him more especially to a presentation of his matter in pictorial scenes; and the result would be just such a Gospel as we have in the second. Mark narrates events in his own manner; his ardent and lively imagination is everywhere manifested in his Gospel. He derived his information from the apostolic discourses of Peter, which dispensed with the chronological connection of events for the sake of blending them with doctrinal announcements. Hence a strict historical sequence is wanting in this Gospel.1 His narrative was written for a circle of Roman Christians; hence he confined himself so much to the concrete, and made use of many Latin words and phrases. From the circumstance that his inducement to write arose from a private circle, the double conclusion of his Gospel may be in some measure explained. His communications, that is to say, were gradually formed: how naturally, then, might a cessation take place towards the close, and a subsequent completion be added, after the dissemination of the former communications! Criticism, in its oscillations between opposite extremes, has at one time too highly estimated, at another too much depreciated, this Evangelist and his Gospel in comparison with the other Gospels. Even Augustine caused this Gospel to be misconceived, by regarding Mark as ‘the follower and abridger’ (pedissequus et breviator) of Matthew.2 Euthymius Zigabenus pronounces a similar opinion.3 In modern times Michaelis has remarked, that ‘Mark wrote with Matthew’s Gospel in his hand;’ and afterwards, that Luke also made use of it. Hereupon Griesbach sought to prove4 that ‘the whole Gospel of Mark, with the exception of a few verses, is derived from Matthew and Luke.’ Saunier, in his work über die Quellen des Evangeliums des Markus, 1825, Theile zur Biographie Jesu, p. 34, Strauss in the Leben Jesu, vol. i. p. 78, and others, have embraced this opinion. Even Ammon agrees on the whole with this view of the Gospels. Erroneous notions of the second Gospel were first attacked in a doctrinal point of view by Mill and Wolf. When a contradiction was felt to exist between the doctrine of inspiration and the assumption that Mark was a mere ‘follower’ of Matthew, such a persuasion involved the true notion, that an Evangelist, as such, was too truly invested with the dignity of a definite, an inspired, and an apostolic life, too powerfully impelled to work in the strength and blessing of his own special spiritual gift, to exhibit the mere lifeless performance of a compiler or copyist. It was subsequently owned, that the Gospel of Mark could not be wholly accounted for by that of Matthew, but that it assumed a more comprehensive evangelical tradition. Koppe especially embraced this view. The recognition of the peculiarity of this Gospel was gradually prepared for, as may be remarked in Schott’s Isagoge, &c., p. 90. Nay, Mark was indemnified for the misconception he had experienced, by this view being surpassed, and his Gospel made the basis of those of Matthew and Luke, which has been done in our days by both Wilke1 and Weisse,2 after the precedent of Herder and Storr. Finally, credit for the greatest things has been given to this Evangelist, by attributing to him the Apocalypse also.3 That the originality of Mark makes him independent of Matthew and Luke, may be seen from his omissions, not to mention the characteristic vividness of delineation pervading his whole work. On the other hand, however, the originality of the second Gospel can derogate nothing from that of the first and third, which not only surpass Mark in extent, i.e., in reporting certain circumstances which he has omitted, but also in the more significant and profound sequence and tone of their communications. Nothing material can be urged against the tradition of the fathers, according to which Mark composed his Gospel at Rome, about the time of Peter’s martyrdom. The variety of their statements may perhaps be accounted for by the various editions of this Gospel. According to Clement of Alexandria and Eusebius, Mark composed his Gospel during the life of Peter; hence the edition which Eusebius followed was one wherein the conclusion, Mark 16:9-20, was wanting. Irenæus makes the Evangelist write after the death of Peter; consequently he used a later edition, which included the conclusion. While Mark sketched vivid pictures from the Gospel history from a Petrine point of view for Roman Christians, Matthew undertook the task of composing a Gospel for Hebrew Christians. His disposition and official vocation equally impelled him to such a work. He could not but lead his fellow-believers in the Old and New Testaments to the heights of the theocratic standpoint, and show them the fulfilment (the πλήρωσις) of the Old Testament in the New. Hence his Gospel is, as to matter, filled with references to the Old Testament; as to form, with Hebraisms. Hence he is constrained to represent the Messiah in the great acts of His historical manifestation, and so to arrange them as to make them act, as far as possible, in their totality as credentials of His dignity. Hence so prominent a position is occupied in the beginning of this Gospel by the genealogy, and at its close by the announcement of the destruction of Jerusalem. In striking contrast, however, to that genuine Israelitism, the line of Messianic life appearing in the person and institution of Christ, must that false tradition of Israelite nature, viz., Pharisaism, be exhibited. This foundation of the Gospel of Matthew was from the first so firmly laid, that its Greek compiler could alter nothing essential, without intentionally destroying the execution of this significant design.1 The birth-place of this Gospel must at all events have been Palestine. The date of its origin is probably that when, by reason of the storm then gathering over Jerusalem, the Christians began, according to their Master’s injunctions, to leave the Jewish commonwealth, sunk as it was in delusion, and to emigrate chiefly to Pella.2 Luke wrote his Gospel under the influence of his Pauline tendencies. Hence he stood in direct opposition, not only to inimical Judaism, but also to morbid judaized Christianity. This standpoint gave him a special sense for all those incidents in the Gospel history, in which the calling of the whole Gentile world into the kingdom of God appears. Hence a stronger feature of catholicity pervades his Gospel. It also satisfactorily proves that the supposed discoveries, according to which this Gospel contains Ebionite views needing to be expunged, are entire failures. Luke wrote the history of the divine Friend, the Shepherd, the Saviour, of the human race. In carrying out this task, a number of written notices of the life of Jesus were at his disposal. Some of these pieces he allowed to produce their full effect, by incorporating them in his work without materially altering them. But he could not feel himself bound, in the task of editing such documents as had come to his knowledge, to follow exactly the succession of events in the Gospel history from its commencement, as he certainly might have done, partly by the help of tradition, and partly perhaps by that of his own memory (παρακολουθεῖν ἄνωθεν πᾶσιν ἀκριβῶς, Luke 1:3).3 His peculiarity has imparted its tinge to his whole Gospel, though we cannot but feel how differently he would have written, if he had not been guided by the distinct impress of Gospel tradition.4 He wrote his Gospel, first, for Theophilus, a Christian of some consideration, who at the same time represents, in his view, a class of Christians who, both by education and the solicitude they evinced on the subject, had a better right than many others to require such a history of Christ’s life as, being founded upon accurate information, might afford them certainty (ἵíá ἐðõãíῷò τὴí ἀóöÜëåéáí). When, then, Luke promises Theophilus that he would write the Gospel history in order, καθεξῆò, we are led to expect that he meant thereby the accurately ascertained chronological sequence. But when we view the actual state of the case, and remark that he observes this historical sequence only in general, and not in his delineation of Christ’s ministry; that, on the contrary, he brings prominently forward another kind of order, namely, that of Christ’s continual journeyings; we cannot but suppose that this was the order which he intended from the first. Other writers of Gospels had already attempted to set forth in order (ἀíáôÜîáóèáé) the Gospel history, according to certain principles of arrangement: this, however, was to be his principle, to communicate to Theophilus the Gospel history, in a previously determined order, of which the journeys of Christ should form the leading idea.1 The date of this Gospel is probably an early one: perhaps about that of St Paul’s first imprisonment at Rome. At all events, it is antecedent to that of the Acts of the Apostles. There must, however, always be a difficulty in supposing that Luke discontinued this latter book at a place where he might have carried it on much further, namely, at the time when Paul had lived two years at Rome. The Evangelist John had, according to a tradition which there is no reasonable ground for doubting, the synoptical Gospels before him, when he composed his own. Hence he did not concern himself with directly communicating such parts of the Gospel history as were already known. But the history of the life of Jesus had, through the operation of the recalling Spirit, become to his profound and delicate mind, more than to any other apostle, the history of the Incarnate Logos, the centre of the ideal world. That centre of civilization2 in which it was his lot to represent the Church of Christ, induced him to form his confession of Christ into an ideal Christology. He was, however, impelled to this full development of his views by the twofold manner in which the worldly spirit, which had entered the Church, had deformed Christian doctrine; hence its mature form resulted from its contest with the first beginnings of Ebionitism and Gnosticism. The Evangelist had consequently the opportunity of forming his Christology with special reference to the inimical contrasts which it had to encounter in the world. Hence arose that fundamental idea of his Gospel, which has already been stated. If the synoptical Evangelists had spared him the task of narrating Gospel facts, they had, on the other hand, prepared another task for him, by their neglect of chronological sequence in their several delineations of the Gospel history. In this respect, therefore, John was induced not only to give it decided prominence in his Gospel, but also to depict more copiously the commencement of Christ’s ministry, which his predecessors had but slightly touched on. It was peculiar to his mind to view the general in the prominence of the particular. Hence the more important incidents of the Gospel history, in which, on the one hand, the reception which the light of the world experienced from ‘His own,’ and, on the other, the repulse by which ‘the darkness’ excluded itself there from, were most decidedly expressed and carried out, occupied the foreground in this view. This ideal Christology, the ideal and real life of Christ represented, with reference to both the friendly and inimical treatment it met with in the world, in an orderly succession of its most striking incidents, formed the plan of his Gospel. John could not have arrived in Ephesus before he had reached an advanced age. Here, however, he found himself within the influence of just such inducements, whether arising from favourable or opposing circumstances, as were calculated to mature within his mind the form of his Gospel. note According to the conclusions at which criticism has as yet arrived, the Evangelists appear before us as figures which, like mysterious spirits, freely and easily pass through its attacks, because critics are entangled in endless and often mortal contests with each other. Thus, at one time, it is said that the author of Matthew’s Gospel not only frequently copied from Mark, and was thus externally dependent upon him, but also frequently misunderstood him, as being wholly unacquainted with the Hebrew manner of thought and expression (comp. Hitzig, Ueber Johannes Markus, p. 47); that he has irrevocably forfeited the credit of an eye-witness (Strauss, Leben Jesu, ii. 309); nay, that his Gospel, in its present form, is no apostolical testimony at all (Credner, Einleitung, p. 95). Then, again, the collection of sayings by the Apostle Matthew, said to form the basis of the first Gospel, is declared to be, with respect to the authenticity, trustworthiness, and genuineness of its communications, in every way equal to the communications of Mark (Weisse, d. evang. Gesch. vol. ii. p. 1); and these sayings are said to have been copied with almost verbal accuracy (Id. vol. i. p. 109). Again, this Gospel, it is asserted, exhibits very plainly the characteristics of its Jewish origin (Hase, Leben Jesu, p. 4). At one time Matthew is looked upon as the author of the Gospel, but the Gospel is considered a fiction (see Bauer, Krit. der evang. Gesch.); at another, the Gospel is credible, and even derived as a translation from the primitive Aramæan Gospel, but has been ascribed, without valid historical ground, to Matthew (see Ammon, die Geschichte des Lebens Jesu, vol. i. p. 61); nay, this Gospel, independently of its pretensions to the authority of an apostle and eye-witness, is placed before those of Mark and Luke (Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, p. 35). Now Mark appears as a compiler, making a selection from Matthew and Luke (Theile, zur Biog. Jesu, p. 34; Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. i. p. 78), and only a few verses are allowed to be original (Griesbachii, Opusc. vol. ii.). Then, again, Mark is the founder of the whole family of synoptical Gospels (Wilke, Weisse, &c.) His statements are said to be reproduced, after being levelled and flattened, in the other Gospels; his views are independent, his chronological arrangement his own (Hitzig, as above, p. 46). Not only are the synoptical Gospels founded upon his, but the Apocalypse is also his work. With respect to Luke, at one time, there is not sufficient ground for attributing to him the Gospel bearing his name. A doubt is even cast upon the testimony that it was the production of a companion of St Paul. In any case, the companion of St Paul may have composed his work among accumulations of tradition, from which no apostolic influence protected him (Strauss, Leben Jesu, i. 80). Too much honour is done to the author of this work, when the attempt is made to bring any of his statements into harmony with chronology (Id. p. 265). In the case of Luke, historical accuracy is, seriously speaking, entirely out of the question (Weisse, vol. i. p. 90). At another time this same Evangelist is represented as a Christian investigator, whose credit is not diminished but increased by referring his work to the earlier works of original and gifted eye-witnesses of the events (Schleiermacher, Ueber die Schriften des Lukas, xvi.) Again, we cannot mistake the more cultivated Hellenist in him. The tradition, that he committed to writing the Gospel preached by Paul, is strikingly corroborated by comparing certain passages in Paul’s Epistles with parallel passages in this Gospel, especially the account of the institution of the Lord’s Supper (Gieseler, Historisch-kritischer Versuch, p. 124). Finally, the Apostle John is, by a critical bias, gradually removed from the list of Evangelists. According to B. Bauer, the unnamed disciple, who has been supposed to be this apostle, is only a phantom formed by the fourth Evangelist (Kritik, iii. 340). According to Lützelberger, the Gospel itself is infected with crude dualistic assumptions, and is therefore of Manichæan tendency (Die kirchl. Trad. p. 286). According to Gfrörer, on the contrary (Das Heiligthum und die Wahrheit, p. 346), the work of the fourth Evangelist is not only genuine, but he has performed his task ‘as well as could have been expected.’ According to Credner, only an inhabitant of Palestine, an immediate eye-witness and an apostle, only the beloved disciple of the Lord Jesus, only that very John whom Jesus had bound to Himself by the heavenly charm of His teaching, could have been the author of such a Gospel (Einleitung, p. 208). ======================================================================== CHAPTER 47: 02.038. PART VII ======================================================================== PART VII THE RELATION OF THE FOUR GOSPELS TO THE GOSPEL HISTORY ======================================================================== CHAPTER 48: 02.039. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I an attempt to exhibit the gospel history in its unity The Gospel history has ever presented itself, in its essential features, to the eye of Christian faith as a unity. Faith has ever found the Gospel in the Gospels. It is one of the marks of matured believers, that Christ has been formed in them. They have an enlightened spiritual perception of His nature and history. Their knowledge must, from its very nature, be ever increasing in clearness and fulness. But it has not come to perfection until all the essential contents of the Gospel history, as found in the four Gospels, have their place in the harmonious image resulting from this one perception of the life of Christ. And faith is striving after the same end as theological science, when the latter is seeking to exhibit that unity from the four Gospels. But both in the assumption on which this effort is founded, and in the process whereby it is to be realized, science may depart from the point of view occupied by faith. At all events, science must differ from faith at every step of this effort in this respect, that while faith is rejoicing in the spiritual unity she has found in the life of Christ, science is endeavouring to exhibit this unity in the fulness of those historical features displayed in the Gospels. Consequently, while faith has ever rejoiced in the unity of Christ as experienced at its centre, the high aim of science has ever been, and still is, to exhibit its whole circumference. This effort of science cannot but be regarded as the expression of a noble and essential impulse of the mind. The mind everywhere seeks unity, whether in history or nature; it cannot but seek it, because its own nature is the free unity of varieties. Variety, indeed, cannot oppress it, so long as it can either perceive or anticipate therein the fulness of unity. But if variety seems, to obstruct unity by its mysterious nature, or to obliterate it by obvious contradictions, the mind becomes uneasy and excited, and finally seeks it at any cost. The moral and religious capacity for discovering unity in variety is indeed very various. The Monotheist, e.g., finds in the infinite variety of the world the bright and certain manifestation of one Spirit; the Polytheist finds therein the confused separateness of countless gods. The former finds unity because he goes to the cause; the latter loses it because he is prejudiced by the outward effect. So also will a strong, healthy, evangelical mind see the unity of the Gospel in all the Gospels; while a mind fixed upon outward matters of detail and of the letter, fancies it discovers a complication of contradictions. Even in their assumption concerning the relation of the four Gospels to the one Gospel history, the decisions of science and faith are often widely different. Christian faith cannot but regard it as an advantage to possess the Gospel in this four-fold form and development; science, on the contrary, is almost accustomed to see in this circumstance a deficiency, an injury. The former would not part with one of the Gospels, because each serves more clearly to display the infinite riches of Christ in a special aspect; science, on the contrary, seems often inclined to give up all four, for the first best scientific representation of the life of Christ, or even for a negative criticism of the evangelical narratives.1 This difference is still more strikingly displayed in the respective methods of procedure of these two mental tendencies. While faith finds the same Christ and the same presiding Spirit of Christ in each separate occurrence of the Gospel narratives, and even looks upon discrepancies in details as corroborations of the truth and freedom of this spirit, the scientific impulse, which is more or less alien to faith, desires the perfect external unity, or even uniformity, of the evangelical narratives. This impulse, in its Christian form, produces that positive harmony which regards the external accordance of the Gospels as a condition of their internal agreement, or indeed confounds the two, and makes faith dependent upon the fact of the Gospels exhibiting the lawyer-like exactness of a statute-book. In its non-Christian form, however, this same impulse produces negative harmony, which finds not only in actual discrepancies of detail between the several Gospels, but even in every mere appearance of discrepancy that can be raked up, signs of their legendary nature. Both kinds of harmony suffer from the same lack of feeling for the vividness with which mind is wont to express itself, and terminate in a complete talmudistic minute criticism with respect to the externals of the Gospels, corresponding with their utter misconception of their inner life. These two forms of harmony stand in the same polar relation to each other as Popery and Separatism, or as despotism and anarchy. The one annihilates the peculiarity of the Gospels, to exhibit more forcibly the uniformity of the Gospel; the other, on the contrary, denies the powerful unity of spirit manifest in every feature of the separate Gospels, and sees in them an endless complication of apocryphal mental activity, living particles capriciously jumbled together from every quarter. It is the problem of faith ever more and more to introduce the separate features of the Gospel narratives, viewed in their mutual harmonious relations, into the Church’s contemplation of the life of Jesus, viewed as a whole. It is the problem of theological science, on the contrary, ever more and more to strive, by successive approximations, to exhibit from the materials at hand the perfect unity of the life of Jesus. When the tasks of both are completed, both must meet at the same place. But, meanwhile, faith cannot exact of science that she should hurry her task, or even, with lawyer-like partiality, solve her problem at any cost, as though she were concerned to save the life of a threatened client. Such an exaction was indeed long ago made by little faith, till science, which she had enslaved, breaking through her bonds, thenceforth conducted the cause of the Gospels in an opposite direction, with the vindictive spirit of a fugitive slave. When, however, science would, on her part, enforce upon faith results which assume and involve another view of the world than the Christian one, she must in this form appear to faith under the same aspect as Jewish or Mohammedan arguments would, when dealing in an antichristian manner with the Gospels. Such science no longer stands in polar relationship to faith, but has nothing to do with it. Christian science starts from the assumption of the central unity of the four Gospels. She seeks to follow this vital unity of spirit into the very veins of their several details. Having, however, to deal with the analysis of four great individualities in their respective performances, and in their relation to the Gospel history, her task seems an endless one. But it is not only the subject itself which makes this task a difficult one. In estimating it, we must also take into account the imperfect state of science, both as being still in process of development, and limited by human weakness. Hence her several decisions are arrived at without the confidence of full assurance. Nothing could more retard her progress than to convert her conclusions or views into settled maxims. The more cautiously she proceeds, the more assurance may she express, because she proceeds upon the certainty of a firm foundation, and has the certainty of a real end in view. It is in this sense that our attempt to give a single delineation of the Gospel history is to be made. With regard to the extent of this representation, it will, for the sake of obtaining a comprehensive view of the whole subject, go beyond the limits of the four Gospels, e.g., with regard to a description of the secular circumstances among which the life of Jesus was passed. With regard to its execution, however, this representation will consist only of a sketch of the subject, since the full consideration of the matter will be given in the development of the four separate Gospels. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 49: 02.040. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the gospel history, in the organic fourfold development of its fulness The life of the world arises from a fundamental principle, and propagates itself in an infinite variety of forces, forms, and aspects. Proceeding from variety, and seeking this fundamental principle, man appears in his ideality as the centre of life, the idea of the world, according to which all other forms are regulated. When we would contemplate the highest forms of animal life, the last steps of the pedestal on which that life which forms creation’s statue is exalted, these appear to be the ox, the sacrificial animal, the type of suffering and bleeding life; the lion, the type of ruling, royally free life; the eagle, the type of sacred, contemplative life, soaring above the earth. Above these three heights of animal life, man appears as the image of spiritual life, reproducing all these grades in a higher unity (Revelation 4:7). Man is the suffering being, who goes through all the woe of the world to its very depths, formed for submission to his fate, the child of sacred sorrow, the ox, the sacrificial animal, μόσχος, like the τράγος or scape-goat, which tragedy symbolically denotes. Man is the royal being, who judicially rules the world, and perpetrates the slaughter of his victims with fierce or joyful enthusiasm. Man is finally the eagle of spiritual enlightenment, flying towards the sun, and viewing all things in the light of the spirit,-the eagle of a contemplation which soars far beyond empiricism. But when man answers to his destiny, and is equal to himself, he is all these at once: he is the tragic sacrificial animal, the contending and victorious lion, the contemplative eagle, loving to abide in the light; he is all in one, and it is in this unity that he is man. These typical forms of animal life, together with their spiritual unity, man, form the deep-meaning theocratic symbol described in the vision of the prophet Ezekiel (Ezekiel 1:1-28), and also in the Apocalypse (Revelation 4:1-11) In the symbol of the cherubim above the ark of the covenant, the Israelite beheld the glory of God as reflected in the fulness of the world, the unity of life as it branches out into diversity of form. All that lives belongs to the spirit, is forfeited and sacrificed thereto: this is denoted by the ox. All that lives, enjoys, struggles, conquers, because it represents spirit; this is expressed by the lion. All that lives, loves to float in visionary intoxication in the sunlight; this is the form of life represented by the eagle. But all that lives, reaches its climax in man; the spiritualization of suffering, of action, of contemplation, form in him a unity; and from this unity arises the fourth typical form of life, humanity.1 We have seen in the preceding part of this work that Christ is the perfect, the glorified man, the God-man. As then man in general spreads abroad his fulness in the world, so does the God-man in the Gospel, the instrument of the world’s enlightenment. And as the fulness of man, as man, ramifies in the world, so does the fulness of Christ ramify itself in the Gospels. Irenæus displayed a happy fertility of presentiment, when he found in the peculiarity of the four Gospels, a reference to the four living creatures in Ezekiel. The assumption that one single man, in one single work, would have furnished a better delineation of the life of Jesus than four different chosen Evangelists, who complete each other and form one united whole, is equivalent to the view that the personality of Christ might, in its depth and extent, be repeated in other persons, though in weaker forms. But how could He then, as the one Head, stand in true organic unity with His various members? The unity of life spreads abroad its infinite fulness in the four typical forms of life. So is it also with the unity of the life of Christ. It was determined in the counsel of God, and provided for by the Spirit of God, that the life of Christ should be viewed by great but different, separate but concurrent, apostolic characters, and that it should in the same manner be committed to writing by four Evangelists.1 Hence we cannot scientifically know the life of Jesus in all its fulness, nor learn the extent of the effect it produced, unless we are intimately acquainted with it, as represented in the four Evangelists. But even in this case we shall only seek and find the Gospel in its fulness, when, on the one hand, we find in the four Gospels the true unity of the Gospel history, and, on the other, learn to appreciate and understand each expression of the Gospel, in the series of the four Evangelists, in its own definite peculiarity. Each Evangelist had his special province and gift of grace, by means of which he was to apprehend and represent the Gospel.2 And that each was faithful to his appointed task, is evident from the accordance between the characters of the Evangelists as we become acquainted with them from the Gospel history, and the peculiarities of those Gospels which they severally composed. As, for instance, St Mark’s Gospel is, with respect to its general character, rightly called ‘The Gospel;’ so also is it, with respect to its peculiarity, rightly called ‘St Mark’s.’ This accordance between the Gospels and the known characters of the Evangelists to whom they are ascribed, is at the same time a very important testimony to their authenticity. We are not, however, now regarding this accordance with respect to the authenticity of the Gospels, but as opening our eyes to the fact, that to each Evangelist was given a special and peculiar view of the glory of Christ.3 Matthew, the apostle of Christ, who is several times included in the apostolic catalogue, and for the last time in Acts 1:13, was formerly a receiver of customs by the Lake of Gennesareth. According to the united testimony of the synoptical Gospels (Matthew 9:9, &c.; Mark 2:13, &c.; Luke 5:27, &c.), he was called by Jesus from the receipt of custom to the apostolate. Though the disciple thus called is named Levi by both Mark and Luke, yet there is not the slightest doubt that they intend the same person whom the first Gospel designates Matthew. As a receiver of custom, Matthew must have possessed a certain amount of social education; especially it may be presumed, that he had gained a facility in writing, and was accustomed to the practice of this art. Both the administration of public business and the financial management of private business necessitate systematic arrangement. The public official is obliged to arrange and methodize his business, and consequently to use titles, rules, and indices. Hence Matthew was accustomed to systematize.1 And it was consistent with such a habit, that in his written delineation of events, he should be accurate in his statements of the essential, and neglect the graphic and the reflective. As a publican, Matthew was at variance with the pharisaic party, and the pharisaic disposition among his own people. The dictum of the orthodox Jew designated him as unclean. He must have shared the contempt in which his fellow-publicans were held, and had undoubtedly often experienced it on special occasions, Such constant misconception and neglect with regard to religion, could only be regarded with indifference, through frivolous carelessness, or a more liberal piety and more vital comprehension of the Old Testament. It must have been in the latter respect that Matthew had become free from the power of Pharisaism. Otherwise Jesus, even though He had stopped him in his wild career, brought him to salvation, and won him for His kingdom, would hardly have placed him so early among the Twelve. We conclude then that he was a pious Israelite, prepared for the acknowledgment of Christ by an intimate acquaintance with the Old Testament, and that, being at the same time one of those who were of a freer turn of mind than their contemporaries, he had a feeling of the difference between the law of the Lord and the traditions of the fathers. And if we entertain the reasonable view, that Jesus admitted among the Twelve only those more important and prominent characters in whom natural qualifications for a great work already existed, we must assume, in the case of Matthew also, an important personality. But the fact of his conversion from a publican into an apostle of the Lord, in whom he recognized the true eternal King of Israel, must have been idelibly impressed upon his mind as a miracle of divine grace. He was despised in the eyes of the false theocrats of Israel, and the true Theocrat thus highly exalted him. He must have learned to feel the contrast between the true and the spurious kingdom of God in all their respective aspects. But even without taking into account the unreasonable contempt of the Pharisees, his former doubtful calling, when compared with his present exalted vocation; his former associates, who consisted partly of the most degraded of men, when contrasted with the consecrated circle in which he now lived; and finally, his former, when compared with his present state of mind; must all have appeared to him in their darkest colours. He was translated from a condition of the deepest shame to one of the highest honour-from a most critical to a most advantageous position. Hence it would accord with such a state of things, that a strong feeling for contrasts should have been formed in him. Thus Matthew comes before us as a pious and unprejudiced, a resolute and educated, a seriously-minded and important Israelite. The true historical connection of Christianity with pure Old Testament Judaism, as well as the contrast between it and Judaic Pharisaism, are expressed in the fact that this Israelite publican was destined to write his Gospel first of all for Jewish Christians. The peculiarity of this Evangelist is decidedly expressed in his Gospel. First, with regard to formal peculiarities, it is remarkable that the first Gospel should be the work of that very apostle who was practised in the art of writing.1 But it is a characteristic of this Gospel, which is increasingly recognized, that a careful grouping of events prevails throughout. The observation of this circumstance, namely, that arrangement is so very apparent in the discourses in Matthew 5:1-48, Matthew 6:1-34, Matthew 7:1-29, Matthew 10:1-42, Matthew 13:1-58, Matthew 24:1-51 and Matthew 25:1-46, induced, by an over-hasty process of association, the hypothesis that the original Gospel of Matthew consisted only of a collection of sayings. It may, however, be easily proved, that even those parts of this Gospel in which facts are narrated, are arranged according to the motives which evoked them. Thus, e.g., the first manifestation of the Messianic miraculous power of Christ, is exhibited from the beginning of the eighth to the end of the ninth chaps.; and thus also are those great conflicts between Christ and His age, which preceded His persecution, depicted in Matthew 11:1-30 and Matthew 12:1-50. These hints may suffice to direct attention to the true architectural fitting in of parts, exhibited by the whole Gospel; the carrying out of this remark must be reserved for our subsequent development of this Gospel. With the tendency of this Evangelist to group his events, is closely connected the feeling which led him to exhibit in juxtaposition things which presented sharp contrasts. We have already remarked upon this style in our Evangelist Thus, e.g., in what striking antithesis do we find Herod and the new-born King of the Jews, and the teaching of Christ and the teaching of the Pharisees in the Sermon on the Mount! The whole Gospel, in fact, is full of contrasts. It is also peculiar to it to exhibit objects only in their bold outlines and characteristic features. When objects are to be portrayed in all their sublimity, it would but exert a disturbing influence to enrich them at the same time with graphic details. In such a case, the delineation of particulars must necessarily be kept under. The reason why Matthew did not descend into particulars, is explained by the fact, that it was the simple grandeur of the Gospel facts which filled his view. His peculiarities of form, however, are but the expression of peculiarity of matter. He exhibits the Gospel in its historical relation, as the completion, the spiritual fruit of the christological growth in the Old Testament. It was his task to prove to his own nation that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham (Matthew 1:1). But just because Christ was, in his eyes, the true and spiritual King of the Jews, and His kingdom the true theocratic kingdom of God, did Matthew from the very first give prominence to the great contrast between the spiritual Israel and the worldly and hardened Israel. Thence it was, that from the beginning new conflicts were ever arising, thence that we continually meet with fresh sufferings of the holy Heir of the ancient theocracy till His death upon the cross, new triumphs till the manifestation of His glory. The series of the Messiah’s sufferings runs through the whole of this Gospel as its prevailing thought. Even in that overture to the whole, the genealogy, we detect the notes of this tragic theme; for Mary is represented as misunderstood by her betrothed, and in danger of being exposed, together with her child, to civil dishonour; the child is persecuted by the secular power, and doomed to death, while the prelude of His death is seen in the slaughter of the infants of Bethlehem. The preference of this Evangelist for exhibiting Christ in His theocratic sufferings, is manifested in several characteristic traits. Nevertheless he also delights in everywhere displaying His triumphs. How characteristic is it, that it is Matthew who, in the history of Peter’s wounding the high priest’s servant, records the words of Jesus: ‘Thinkest thou, that I cannot now pray to My Father, and He shall presently give Me more than twelve legions of angels?’ Thus it is Matthew who, in recording this incident, is concerned for the dignity of the King; it is Mark who is careful for the character of his friend Peter, and omits the reproof; while Luke, the physician, is occupied with the case of the wounded man, and narrates the healing of his ear. It is also in accordance with this view of Christ, that Matthew, at the close of his Gospel, represents Him as the glorified Prince of heaven, to whom all power in heaven and earth is delivered. It is clear, then, that we possess, in the Gospel of Matthew, a delineation of the life of Jesus, which presents it in all the distinctness and fulness of a peculiar view. This Evangelist makes our Lord known to us in all the certainty and depth of His relation to history. We here learn to estimate the relations of Christianity to Judaism, and to general historical traditions in the world. We even become acquainted with the double nature of these traditions, as they represent both the outpouring of the curse, and the outpouring of the blessing. Nowhere else is that golden thread which connects all history, the ever advancing though secret progress of mankind, so clearly displayed; and nowhere does the Eternal appear so pure and bright in history, so free from all contamination of the corrupt and perishable, nay, in sharpest and sublimest contrast to all the pretensions of mere dead statutes. Modern philosophy has not always been able to separate the laws of Jehovah from the decrees of the fathers in Israel. At one time, Christ is said to have been crucified according to the Mosaic law; at another, not to have felt bound to observe the Mosaic law in His own conduct. Philosophers might, in this respect at least, learn from Matthew that eggshell dance of the thoughts, the distinction between laws and customs, since Matthew has drawn a portrait, in which the ever correct and quickest motion of a holy life between the most exact observance of law and the freest non-observance of customs is depicted. In this respect Christ is, according to Matthew’s delineation, in an ideal sense the historic Christ; while, according to John, He is in an historic sense the ideal Christ. From this Gospel we may learn to estimate parchments according to their value, the historic veins of the blessing of christological reference, and especially the indestructible thread running through the depths of the world’s history. Here we become acquainted with the idea of the symphony and its accomplishment, with the prophetic relation between buds and blossoms on the tree of the world’s history, between preludes and concluding chords in the history of Israel. But here also we discern the true freedom and glory of that ideal and consecrated life, matured on the tree of history, contrasted with the poor, naked, illegal appearance it presented to those who were prejudiced by the rusted and decayed traditions of history. None other displays, in features so speaking and forcible as Matthew, the nothingness of ungodly temporal or hierarchical power, in its enmity against a Christ sharing the poor man’s lot. The manner in which he exhibits the suffering Son of David submitting to the sentence of death, amidst the misconception and delusion of His own nation, sheds, from that bright centre where the true sin-offering of the human race bleeds to death, a light upon all the tragic events and tragic poems of the world, in their christological and presentient allusions. He teaches us to receive Christ in the hungry, the thirsty, the strangers, the sick, the naked, the prisoners. But above this holy suffering, we here behold in all its glory the overruling providence of the retributing and assisting God. The kingdom of the Father’s glory surrounds the scene of the historical reality; it beams around, and breaks in at the decisive moment. The harmony between the tender centre of the world, the holy child, and the ardent circumference of the world, the all-ruling providence of God; between that freest life, Christianity, and the eternal appointment, the counsel of God; between the triumph of the kingdom of Christ, and the rule of the Almighty Father; is here depicted in the clearest characters. Hence, this Gospel may be defined as that which casts a light upon the suffering Christ, and in Him on Christian suffering, and all the christological sufferings of the world, especially upon the tragic course of history, by special views and definite representations. As Matthew sets forth the Redeemer in His relation to history, so does Mark exhibit Him in the reality of His power as the Son of God (Mark 1:1); as He, reposing on the fulness of His Godhead power, manifests His life in an increasingly great, striking, and fervent agency, and spreads blessings around Him, the Lion of the tribe of Judah. The special ray of Christ’s glory which John Mark’s peculiarity fitted him to exhibit in vivid touches from the fulness of Gospel truth, was the manner in which His deeds revealed the greatness of His person. According to Acts 12:12, he was the son of a Christian woman named Mary, in whose house at Jerusalem the believers, or at least the principal among them, were wont to assemble. When Luke wrote the Acts of the Apostles, he was already known and esteemed by the Christian Church, or Luke would not have introduced his mother to notice by naming her son. He was a Christian, and early devoted himself to the apostolic missionary life; on which account Paul and Barnabas took him with them on their return from Jerusalem to Antioch (Acts 12:25). Thence he accompanied them, as their helper and minister, on their joint missionary journey (Acts 13:5). He travelled with them to Seleucia and Cyprus, and thence to Asia Minor. When they arrived, however, at Perga in Pamphylia, he parted from them and returned to Jerusalem (Acts 13:13), while they continued their journey to Pisidia. When they were about to repeat this journey from Antioch, for the purpose of strengthening the churches they had founded, John Mark was again there. Barnabas even proposed that he should again accompany them. ‘But Paul thought not good to take him with them, who departed from them from Pamphylia, and went not with them to the work.’ A strife now arose between them, and they separated from each other. Barnabas, taking Mark with him, sailed to Cyprus; and Paul, choosing Silas for his companion, passed through Syria and Cilicia (Acts 15:37, &c.) This John Mark is undoubtedly the same whom we subsequently find again with Paul during the imprisonment of that apostle at Rome; whence it arises that he is introduced to us as one well known to the Christian Church of that time, and as nephew to Barnabas. Paul wrote concerning him, in his Epistle to the Colossians (Colossians 4:10): ‘Aristarchus, my fellow-prisoner, saluteth you, and Marcus, sister’s son to Barnabas (touching whom ye received commandments: if he come unto you, receive him).’ In his second Epistle to Timothy, he says (2 Timothy 4:11), ‘Take Mark and bring him with thee: for he is profitable to me for the ministry.’ In the Epistle to Philemon, Paul mentions him among his fellow-workers, and sends greetings from him (Philemon 1:24). And the same Mark, at another time, sends greeting by Peter to the churches at home, from Babylon. ‘The church that is at Babylon, elected together with you, saluteth you, and so doth Marcus my son:’ 1 Peter 5:13. The Mark who could be thus so plainly designated as the friend and acquaintance of the Christians of Asia Minor or Palestine, and who besides stood on so intimate a footing with Peter, that that apostle could call him his son, could have been none other than the same frequently-mentioned John Mark. Sufficient notice of him has thus been handed down to us, even if we do not introduce the tradition, according to which he suffered martyrdom as Bishop of Alexandria. The incident related by Mark himself, in his account of our Lord’s Passion, of a young man who followed Jesus when He was arrested, and then escaped from the young men who laid hold on him, has frequently been regarded as a circumstance which the Evangelist relates concerning himself. It has indeed been said, that this is a merely groundless supposition. But without taking into account the fact, that the Apostle John also introduces himself into his Gospel without name, and in the same manner as Mark does the young man, we can scarcely fail to recognize in this small episode of the Passion, the identical John Mark of the Acts and Epistles. At the entrance of the troop into the city with their prisoner, when all the disciples had fled, ‘there followed him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast about his naked body’ (Mark 14:15). This was undoubtedly a young man whom Mark had some reason for leaving unnamed; whom the excitement caused that night by the announcement that Jesus had been taken prisoner, had aroused and driven from his couch; and who already stood in a friendly relation to Him,-a young man who is soon ready, who casts a garment about him and hastens out; who is precipitate in action. This same youth, however, who is so prompt in exposing himself to danger, is just as prompt in flying from it, and again shows himself precipitate and full of anxious hurry: ‘And the young men laid hold on him; and he left the linen cloth and fled from them naked.’ We have here, as it were, a psychological prelude to the first missionary journey of John Mark. He was ready to start, prepared for the journey: his ardent desire for missionary work had early brought him into the society of Paul. All went on well as long as they were sailing on the blue waters of the Mediterranean, as long as they stayed in the safe and polished land of Cyprus, and even while they sojourned on the coasts of Asia Minor. But when at length the mountain land of Asia Minor had to be traversed, he gave way-certainly for no reason which Paul could think sufficient-and returned, not to Antioch, but to his home at Jerusalem. Afterwards, however, he was again at Antioch, his fervid mind urging him back to the forsaken path. Barnabas was willing to take him again, and, as Olshausen justly remarks, knowing the good disposition of his beloved kinsman, he espoused his cause. Paul, however, rejected him, on account of his want of reflection, and still hesitating and unreliable enthusiasm. And therefore he again traversed with Barnabas the old and more convenient missionary route. But the Spirit of God was leading him, and he progressively and decidedly advanced from the paths of enthusiasm to those paths of Christian self-denial, upon which he at last laid down his life in the cause of his beloved Master. It is a precious testimony to his growth in humility and earnest faith, as well as to the apostolic benevolence of St Paul, that he was afterwards so closely connected with that apostle, and stood by him during his imprisonment in Rome. But though his individuality was thus progressively purified and sanctified, he could not but continue like himself in all its essential qualities; and hence we always meet with the same old ardour, more wont to kindle into a sudden blaze, than to burn steadily on. Now he is far westward with Paul at Rome, then far eastward with Peter in the region of Babylon. If we add to this the testimony of history, he is finally at Alexandria, and thus dwelt and did the work of an Evangelist in the great capitals of the three quarters of the world. We see in him an apostolic man who maintained a truly earnest faith in an easily excited mind, who was undoubtedly endowed with a powerful imagination and a high degree of enthusiasm; but whom a certain want of profundity of mind, and quiet strength of character, disposed to an external display of enthusiasm which perhaps rendered the strict consistency of Paul too powerful for him, and inclined him to the more congenial companionship of Peter. At all events, the above-mentioned features are clearly discernible in his transitions from one to another of the great missionary stations and renowned apostles. All the characteristic features of this fervid and enthusiastic Evangelist appear in his work. With respect to the negative side of his character, we recognize a man who is quick, not too persevering, and indisposed to deep contemplation. His Gospel is short; it terminates abruptly; it exhibits no distinct basis of arrangement or division; it communicates but few of Christ’s discourses, and those but briefly, and chiefly such as are of the most fervid kind,-disputes, reproofs, and His sayings concerning the last judgment. It is also elliptical in expression; e.g., where the disciples are forbidden to put on two coats (Mark 6:9); or where the Roman centurion concludes, from the cry of Jesus at his death: This was the Son of God (Mark 15:39). The lively vigour of this Evangelist is, however, displayed in a rich abundance of positive energy, and it is with this that we are now concerned, The constant excitement and enthusiasm of his view is expressed in the strength of his expressions; e.g., in the accumulation of negatives, οὐκέτι οὐδείς, as well as in his choice of unusual words, modes of expression, and constructions. It appears also in the rapid succession of his pictures; the word ‘straightway’ (εὐθέως) is his watchword. Vigour of this kind generally ramifies into the gifts of a vigorous and graphic imagination, a strong predilection for the concrete, and a consequently happy memory for details, connected with an excitable temperament, with its affectionate mode of expression. Hence it is Mark, with his graphic imagination, who tells us that Jesus was with the wild beasts in the wilderness; that the accursed fig-tree was dried up from the roots. Such finishing touches are entirely in keeping with truth; they are the fruit of independent and closer observation. This Evangelist also manifests his sense for objective detail, when he relates how Jesus, in His passage across the lake, was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep upon a pillow; when he remembers that the blind beggar at Jericho was called Bartimæus, the son of Timæus; and relates the beautiful parable (Mark 4:26, &c.) in so striking a manner, or recalls the gradual process in the cure of the blind man (Mark 8:22). His frequent use of diminutives specially testifies to his affectionate manner of expression (e.g., θυγάτριον, Mark 5:23; παιδίον, Mark 5:39; κοράσιον, Mark 5:41; κυνάρια, Mark 7:27; ἰχθύδια, Mark 8:7). It is in accordance with this same ardent cordiality, that we find in this Gospel frequent transitions to foreign expressions, especially a number of Latin words (δηνάριον, κεντυρίων &c.)1 The second Gospel, then, is that of an enthusiastic view, a portraiture of the Son of God in His glorious fulfilment of His office, in the greatness of His operations. The history of Christ is made to pass before us in a rapid succession of great pictures, drawn from the life. He fulfils His beneficent mission in great working days, with sublime effort, and amidst great press of work; a constant storm of forces proceeds from Him. Hence He is also ever encompassed by crowds, especially of the needy, so that often He has neither room to stand nor time to eat; nay, His laborious love at one time kindles into such ardent activity, and produces such an excitement among the surrounding multitudes, that His friends wish to withdraw Him from the crowd, uttering those words of anxiety: ‘He is beside Himself’ (Mark 3:21). He makes the deepest impression upon the people; they wonder, they are beyond measure astonished, they are amazed, when He appears, and manifests His love and power. And His acts were in accordance with such an influence, ‘for He had healed many; insomuch that they pressed upon Him for to touch Him, as many as had plagues.’ Wherever His arrival was heard of, they brought unto Him all that were sick in the neighbourhood, and exposed them on their litters in the streets, with the request that they might touch but the hem of His garment; ‘and as many as touched Him were made whole.’ Even the mere appearance of Christ struck the multitude, so that they trembled with reverence and joy (Mark 9:15). His acts are also a continual victory over inimical powers. This Gospel is far less pervaded than the first by anticipations of death. Of the sayings of Jesus on the cross, Mark has preserved only the exclamation: ‘My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’ Just the lion-like cry of sorrow. In the same manner, he relates the history of the resurrection chiefly in its most agitating effects.1 The disciples, in their sorrow, will believe no announcement of His resurrection: neither that of Mary Magdalene, nor of the two disciples who had seen Him in the way. As soon, however, as Christ appears among them, and reproves their unbelief, their disposition is entirely changed: they are now in a condition to receive the commission to preach the Gospel to every creature. An influx of Christ’s power accompanies His messengers, and confirms their words, after His resurrection and ascension. Thus does Mark conclude his Gospel in complete conformity with his own view; for it was in those miraculous healing influences of the power of the Son of God, which agitate and change the world, that the life of Christ had been contemplated by him. And in this view he is unique; the Gospel which he announces, is the Gospel of those vital powers of Christ which pervade the world. He is ever representing Christ as an ever-active, divine-human energy. The manner in which He moved the minds of the people to every pitch of emotion, to horror, fear, trust, hope, delight, rapture, and poured forth His reproving, healing, and sanctifying power upon these different frames of mind, must be learnt from Mark. The celerity with which Christ accomplished a work so infinitely great; the enthusiastically arduous daily labour by which He filled the world with the power of His name; the ardent and persevering courage with which He burst through the sorrows of the world, and through the grave, and raised Himself to the throne of His glory; are portrayed in this specifically distinct conception of His life as characteristics of the Divine Hero, carrying out His work of salvation in swift and conquering operations. This mighty activity is at the same time a symbol, representing all vigorous, divine works, all the agitating, awakening, animating ministrations of hearts filled with God, all the victories of christological deeds, every lion-like effort, every lion-like roar, every lion-like victory of faith on earth, and in general every ray of victorious power proceeding from the throne of the Son of God. In the first Gospel we behold the Redeemer, as the promised Son of David, entering upon His kingdom by the path of suffering; in the second He appears before us, as the infinitely powerful Son of God, obtaining a victory over the world amid floods and storms of conquering power, and therefore in the way of divine and rejoicing activity. But we have yet to know Him as seeing and seeking in the Israelites the whole human race; and, though limited as to His earthly surroundings by the Israelitish nation, as delivering and blessing the world. The Evangelist Luke was called upon both to comprehend and exhibit the Gospel history on that side which reflected the divine Son of man. The first notice of Luke in the New Testament appears in his second work, the Acts of the Apostles, which informs us in the most unassuming manner, that at Troas he first shared in the Apostle Paul’s missionary journey (Acts 16:10-11). ‘Loosing from Troas, we came with a straight course to Samothracia,’1 are the words in which he communicates the fact of his entrance into the apostle’s company. We then lose him again from the society of Paul and Silas at Philippi (Acts 16:17, &c.), where the two latter were cast into prison on account of the cure by Paul of a young woman who was a soothsayer. When they were afterwards liberated, and departed thence, Luke remained, as it appears, at Philippi. When Paul returned to Philippi, Luke again joined him, and sailed with him from Philippi to Troas on their way to Jerusalem (Acts 20:6). In Jerusalem also we find them together; Luke going with Paul into the assembly of the apostles (Acts 21:18). He was, however, once more separated from him by the arrest of Paul, which was effected by the Jewish Zealots (Acts 21:27). After Paul had been sent to Cæsarea, and while he was detained there in milder but tedious imprisonment, Luke seems to have been again in connection with him. For it is said, that the governor Felix ‘commanded a centurion to keep Paul, and to let him have liberty, and that he should forbid none of his acquaintance to minister of come unto him’ (Acts 24:23). At least the command, in consequence of which Paul travelled to Italy, was also a decision concerning him, and for him. ‘It was determined that we should sail into Italy,’ says he (Acts 27:1). He consequently accompanied Paul on this voyage, and came with him to Rome (Acts 28:14). At Rome Luke was, at least for some length of time, the helper of the apostle. It was hence that Paul wrote in his second Epistle to Timothy, ‘Only Luke is with me;’ and in his Epistle to Philemon, and in that to the Colossians, also written from this city, Luke is included among those who send greetings. It is from the latter Epistle that we learn that Luke was a physician, and that he was beloved by the apostle: ‘Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas greet you’ (Colossians 4:14); and also that he was a Gentile, since, after it is said (Colossians 4:10-11), ‘Aristarchus, my fellow-prisoner, saluteth you, and Marcus, &c., and Jesus which is called Justus, who are of the circumcision,’ there follow the names of others, who are therefore not of the circumcision, and it is among the latter that the name of Luke is found. If we now turn to the account of Epiphanius, that Luke was one of the seventy disciples, and to the information of Theophylact, that he was designated by some as one of the seventy disciples, and, indeed as the one who, with Cleopas, met with the risen Saviour, these traditionary accounts, considered alone, may be purely hypothetical. This is, however, the place to state what may be said in favour of the hypothesis. And, first, we may remark, that Luke alone relates the account of the journey to Emmaus, and that in a very graphic manner; making the presumption that he was himself an eye-witness of what he narrates a very probable one. It is especially striking, that he should leave the name of one of these disciples unmentioned; and when this practice is compared with that of John, this circumstance seems to point to the fact, that the author was speaking of himself. If this were the case, we should then have to conclude that Luke, as a Hellenist, introduced to the Messiah through those who reverenced him (perhaps one of the Greeks mentioned, John 12:20), had come with joyful hope to keep the feast at Jerusalem, and had been most deeply agitated by the unexpected turn which matters had now taken. Such a conclusion would explain the expressions, ‘Art thou the only stranger in Jerusalem who hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?’ (Luke 24:18); and, ‘we trusted that it had been He which should have redeemed Israel,’ Luke 24:21. Besides, it is only on this supposition that the expressions περὶ τῶν πεπληροφορημένων1 ἐí ἡìῖí πραγμάτων, and οἱ ἀðʼ ἀñῆò αὐôüðôáé καὶ ὑðçñÝôáé γενόμενοι τοῦ λόγου (Luke 1:1-2), are perfectly clear. Luke thereby declares that he had not been present at the earlier events of the Gospel history, though he had at the later-they had taken place while he already belonged to the sacred circle (‘among us’). He also had then became an eye-witness and minister of the Gospel, but this did not suffice to make him a narrator of the whole Gospel; for such a purpose he must also avail himself of the communications of those who had from the beginning (ἀðʼ ἀñῆò emphatic by position, expressing the contrast) occupied such a position. Finally, the before-mentioned expression of Papias should be well considered in connection with these circumstances. He had a witness who, together with John, the apostolic presbyter, represented that oral tradition which he places in contradistinction to the writings of Matthew and Mark. When he reduces his Latin name Lukanus, Lucilius, or Luke, to its probably earlier form Aristion, this entirely corresponds with his palæological feeling, as does also the circumstance that he calls the apostles, presbyters.2 (Comp. p. 138 and 148). Luke was then a Hellenist. The whole history of his life requires us to attribute to him a certain proportion of the Hellenistic education of his age. He was a physician, living in a seaport town. In such a position, although the calling and position of physicians are not to be judged of according to present circumstances, it was necessary that he should satisfy the requirements of the time with respect to a higher degree of cultivation, nor could he fail to experience the intellectual influences and excitements of the age. If, as Eusebius informs us, he was born at Antioch in Syria, he must have been influenced, even in his native city, by the secular learning of his age. In any case, as a Hellenistic Monotheist and proselyte, he had certainly attained that degree of cultivation in which reflection on spiritual relations is called into existence. In his medical career, this reflection would soon develop itself into an investigation of physical, anthropological, and psychological relations. It must also be granted that, in the case of Luke, the force of an important personality was added to these endowments. Even if his connection with Theophilus, who, as we infer from the preface to St Luke’s Gospel, was a man of some importance, is not taken into account, yet his constant association with Paul is well calculated to place his personality in the most favourable light. Perhaps it was owing to the respectability of his position and appearance that the politic and interested magistracy of Philippi left him unassailed, when Paul and Silas were thrown into prison, and that he was also left at liberty at Jerusalem, when Paul was arrested there. If Luke had, in these cases, failed in fidelity, that apostle would scarcely have again accepted him as his companion, nor would he have been subsequently found among the followers of a man so constantly threatened. If he were a man who acted rashly and inconsiderately, how did it happen that he suffered so much less than the apostle whom he accompanied, that his career is entirely lost sight of beside the more persecuted one of St Paul? The Acts of the Apostles displays his talent for research and delineation.1 Endowed with these gifts, firm, yet submissive and gentle, cultivated and acquainted with the world, he became an assistant of the apostles. We will not insist that he passed some part of his life in intercourse with the Lord. At all events, as an inquiring Greek who, passing through the middle territory of Jewish Monotheism, was seeking the knowledge of salvation, he attained to faith in the Gospel in another manner than the pious Israelites. It was not so much the fulfilment of the Old Testament types and prophecies, as the fulfilment of his own yearnings after the manifestation of the Godhead in flesh, and especially of his anticipations of the fairest of the children of men, the actual ideal Man, the true Physician and Friend of humanity, which made him recognize in Christ the Saviour of the nations. The moral nature of Christianity, its holy humanity, the fulness and universality of its love for man, must have made the deepest impression upon a Hellenistic believer like Luke. But when he subsequently lived in intercourse with Paul, this recognition of a universalism in Christianity, which looks upon all men alike, would grow to a recognition of the grace which, within the sphere of this universalism, turns first of all to those whom the world contemns, that it may restore the balance of eternal righteousness, which hath ‘chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are’ (1 Corinthians 1:27-28). Thus endowed and prepared, Luke was called upon to write the third Gospel. It is his view of the Gospel history. We find his whole self in his work. With respect to its form, it is evident, particularly from its chronological inaccuracies, that he was not personally present at all the events of Christ’s life, especially the earlier ones. We recognize his habit of research in the manner in which he supports his statements by a collection of trustworthy memoirs, often letting these speak in their own words, as shown by the frequent concluding formulæ with which his work is interspersed,1 and by the variety of diction employed. Especially does the pure Greek in which the introduction is written, when contrasted with the Hebraistic style of the Gospel, together with its research into Gospel history, testify to the fact that Luke, as an Evangelist, adopted the very language of the evangelical traditions. Schleiermacher, in his above-mentioned work, not only designates Luke a good collector and arranger, but specially praises him for having almost exclusively accepted genuine and good passages (p. 302). ‘This,’ says he, ‘is certainly not the work of accident, but the result of an investigation undertaken for a definite purpose, and of well-considered choice.’ Luke’s acute spirit of inquiry did not, however, merely collect an excellent selection of Gospel incidents peculiar to himself, but also many most valuable notices, which either complete, explain, or even correct the narratives of the other Evangelists. It is he alone who gives the reasons for the birth of Jesus at Jerusalem, the history of John the Baptist, the appearance of Moses and Elias on the Mount of Transfiguration Luke 9:31), the instruction of the disciples in the Lord’s prayer, the circumstance that Peter was armed with a sword at Gethsemane (Luke 22:38), and many other circumstances and occurrences in the Gospel narrative. His statements are in many respects more accurate than those of Matthew and Mark. He clearly distinguishes, for instance, in the prophecy of Christ concerning the last things, between the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the world. According to him, the saying of Christ concerning the heavenly signs runs thus: There shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; according to Matthew and Mark, The stars will fall from heaven. It is he who has preserved the fact of the great difference between the impenitent and the penitent thief, and informed us of the happy end of the latter; while Matthew summarily relates the blasphemy of those who were crucified with Jesus. He says of the disciples, with a psychological appreciation of their state of mind, They believed not for joy (Luke 24:41); while Mark represents them as upbraided by the Lord for their hardness of heart, which nevertheless is equally correct, since they were not yet fully sanctified (Mark 16:14). The reflections with which the Gospel of Luke is interspersed, display also the superior education of its composer. Among these may be reckoned, e.g., the remarks on the miraculous agency of Christ: ‘The power of the Lord was present to heal them;’ ‘there went virtue out of Him, and healed them all’ (Luke 5:17 and Luke 6:19); also the account of the occasion of the transfiguration: And as He prayed, the fashion of His countenance was altered. Many allusions in this Gospel seem, either by their insertion or position, to manifest the inclination of its author to psychological reflections. Did he perhaps intend to point out, even in the holy and blessed frame of the mother of Jesus, her fitness for bringing forth the holy Son of man? If this question is left undecided, it is certain that he has inserted in the narrative he gives concerning Jesus at his twelfth year, a reflection on the wondrous development of His mind. ‘Jesus,’ says he, ‘increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.’ It seems also not the result of accident, that in the passage Luke 9:54-62, the religious and moral phenomena presented by four different temperaments are placed in juxtaposition, while it is shown how Christ dealt with and healed each; viz., the angry zeal of the sons of thunder, the sanguine enthusiasm of a believing scribe, the melancholy home-sickness of a mourner, and the phlegmatic delay of a sluggish disciple. This juxtaposition is peculiar to Luke. The important notice of the disposition of the disciples, after Jesus had announced to them His approaching sufferings, is given by Luke alone, and that with such extraordinary emphasis, as must either be attributed to the most thoughtful reflection, or the most thoughtless tautology. It is said, viz., Luke 18:34, ‘They understood none of these things; and this saying was hid from them, neither knew they the things which were spoken.’ Perhaps this might be briefly summed up in the words, they would not and could not understand; that is, first, they would not take it to heart; therefore, secondly, the whole thing remained an enigma to them; and hence, thirdly, what was simple was incomprehensible. Undoubtedly Luke, accustomed as he was to act on motives, lays so strong a foundation, because he had afterwards to build upon it the strange phenomenon, that they did not believe the resurrection though it had been previously announced to them. In the remark also made by Luke, after relating how Pilate sent his prisoner to Herod for judgment, that the same day Herod and Pilate were made friends, may be discerned, as it seems to us, a psychological reflection, and even the refined irony of a Christian acquaintance with human nature. The preservation, too, of that glorious account of how the Lord turned and looked upon Peter after his third denial, testifies to the same psychological acuteness for the wonders of the Light of the World. These various traces of the psychologist in this Gospel, naturally lead us upon those of the physician. To discover then the physician in this work, we need by no means go so far as to seek for technical medical terms. We have already pointed out some of the most striking marks of this kind. All the four Evangelists, for instance, relate the rashness with which Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. Matthew, Mark, and John, however, seem, in the press of this mysterious moment, to forget this slight inconvenience. Jesus, the Saviour, however, though in so terrible a situation, could not leave the wound of the sufferer uncared for; and a report of His interposition being extant, Luke, the physician, could not pass it by, as the others had done. The physician could not but manifest himself in a characteristic report, and he does it in the words: ‘Jesus touched his ear and healed him.’ It is likewise Luke alone who tells us of the sweat which fell, ‘as it were great drops of blood,’ from Jesus in Gethsemane. When we contemplate the mental peculiarity which meets us in Luke’s Gospel, it is evident that it is its manifestations of divine pity and mercy which form in his view the key-note of the Gospel history. Even his sense for what was humane and rational in argument points to this; e.g., in Luke 13:15, &c.: ‘Doth not each one of you on the Sabbath loose his ox or his ass from the stall, and lead him away to watering? And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath-day?’ Christ everywhere appears to this Evangelist in the aspect of the benevolent Redeemer, tenderly sympathizing with the sorrows of men, and consoling them with the gracious words which proceeded out of His mouth. Very characteristically does he prolong His genealogy beyond Abraham to Adam; His descent is from man. The first of His discourses communicated in this Gospel is that to His poor countrymen at Nazareth, and is founded on a consolatory passage in the Old Testament (Luke 4:17). How tenderly does He address to the widow of Nain the unspeakably touching words, Weep not! while He himself weeps over Jerusalem, looks back with melancholy sympathy upon the daughters of Jerusalem who were following Him on His way to death, and prays for His enemies while hanging in agony on the cross. This same spirit of Divine pity is expressed also in the relation of His Gospel to man, as exhibited in a concentrated form in the view taken of it by this Evangelist. The solitary and childless priestly pair are first visited, and highly favoured, and then, in the highest degree, the poor virgin of Nazareth. The Holy Child is born into the world; but poor shepherds are the first to rejoice at this event, which brightens the last days of the aged Simeon and the solitary Anna. It was through a miraculous benefit that Simon Peter was astonished and first made entirely Christ’s disciple. We soon after find Jesus in the presence of the anxious centurion of Capernaum; even the elders of the Jews intercede for him. How remarkable is the selection of a resurrection narrative in Luke: it concerns the only son of a widow! This kind of selection goes through the whole Gospel. Even the appearance of holy women among the followers of Jesus, was a circumstance which would catch the eye of this benevolent Evangelist. It was quite in Luke’s nature to preserve Mary’s hymn of praise, in which the Lord is extolled as ‘He who putteth down the mighty from their seats, and exalteth them of low degree; who filleth the hungry with good things, and sendeth the rich empty away.’ And if Luke, in his version of the Sermon on the Mount, pronounces the blessedness of the poor, the hungry, the mourner, as such, though with special notice, in the case of the hated, that it is for the Son of man’s sake that they have incurred this hatred (Luke 6:22), this is so far from being a mark of that Jewish Ebionitism which declared the poor Jews to be blessed above the rich Gentiles, that it seems, on the contrary, impossible to misunderstand here a direct contrast to that Ebionitism, if there be but capacity to receive the notion that the Gospel does, in fact, seek out its subjects first of all among the oppressed and afflicted. This applies also to the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. But it is no weak and cowardly pity, which abandons the fallen, that is exhibited in this Gospel, but the divinely strong pity of eternal mercy. Luke alone relates the pardon of the ‘woman which was a sinner,’ the conversion of Zaccheus, and the penitence of the crucified thief; he alone has given us the parables of the lost sheep and the lost piece of money, and that most glorious of all parables, the prodigal son. The contrast between the spirit of Christ and the spirit of Pharisaism, is expressed with the strongest emphasis by this Evangelist. The history of the ten lepers, among whom there was but one grateful, and he a Samaritan-the narrative of the good Samaritan-and the parable of the Pharisee and publican, taken together, express this contrast with most inculpating effect. Luke’s Gospel is to its very close characteristic, for the Saviour departs from His disciples while He is blessing them. The world and the Church needed this chosen instrument to collect and preserve the brightest, loveliest rays of Christ’s glory, to sound abroad the most peculiar tone of His divinely humane heart, the tenderest and mightiest notes of His tender mercy. Of all the cherubic symbols, it is the image of the man which is the most applicable to Luke. In his Gospel it is declared that the grace of God cares for, nay, is poured forth upon the poor, the lowly, the mean, the overlooked, the despised, the forsaken in the world. Compassion appears in all its freeness, nay, in all its loving, joyful pride, in opposition to the prejudices of Pharisaism, of fanaticism, of ecclesiasticism stiffened into heartlessness, and of absolute pietism relying on its privileges. This grace appears also in its more general form, as love; and in its genial nature as rejoicing, tender loving-kindness, under a thousand aspects. It is incarnated, however, in the Son of man, as holy, glorious humanity, of one nature and agency with Him, manifesting itself through Him, His most peculiar honour. Through Him it is related with all christological life in the world. Whatever of love and kindness passes from heart to heart, every exhibition of faithfulness, help, or good-will, offered in the spirit of true benevolence or pity, proclaims the breathing of that gentle, divine-human spirit, whose fulness flows forth from Christ upon the world. This christological trait is the more precious to the Lord, the more it is outwardly obscured by hereditary heterodoxy, heathen tradition, and similar ancient husks of the old offence. The good Samaritan is one after His own heart, who died on Golgotha under the ban of excommunication, and upon that terrible scene of shame and desolation effected the salvation of the world. Thus does the third Gospel exhibit, together with the abundance and power of the grace and human love of Christ, a world of kindred emotions and influences, proceeding from and returning to Him. If, then, we regard the Gospel history as the climax and centre of all life, and then remember that all life proceeds from the Spirit, and is, in its deepest foundations, entirely ideal; it is at the same time evident that the relation of the Gospel history to the ideal must be made clear. Since we find, then, that the three first Gospels, notwithstanding the richness of their contents, do not in a specific and definite manner satisfy this necessity, it is evident that we need a fourth Gospel to complete the announcements of the former, by an exhibition of the relation between the Gospel history and the idea. Both in Christ Himself and in His life, this tone of ideality, the lyric and recognized reference of His life to all that is ideal in the world, could not but resound in fullest purity. This is involved in the firmly established notion of His personality; and isolated expressions of this reference are found even in the synoptists. But are we to conclude that Christ could find no instrument capable of the most definite apprehension of this sacred basis, this deepest and sublimest side of His whole manifestation? Are we to suppose that the most refined, the deepest, the sublimest view of His life, is the production of some idealistic apocryphal author, not included within the apostolic circle? In this case Christ would not have fully manifested Himself, or rather, he who had thus imperfectly manifested himself could not be the perfect Christ. No idealist, with his surplus of philosophical refinement, was needed to supply what was lacking to Him. And what idealist of the Platonic or Philonic school could have done this?1 The idealistic reasoner of the second century is placed too high, when the production of St John’s Gospel is ascribed to him. The ideal Son of man is placed too low, when the consciousness of His relation to the ideal, and the revelation of this consciousness by means of an appropriate and elect instrument, is denied to Him. It was the Apostle John who was called to the apprehension of this tranquil ideal depth of the life of Jesus. An inspired enthusiastic thirsting after light seems to have been the chief feature of his character. He was the son of Zebedee, a Galilean fisherman on the Lake of Gennesaret, and brother of James the Great. His father seems to have willingly devoted his worldly superfluity, to higher purposes (Mark 15:40-41); his mother Salome was a pious, courageous, aspiring woman (Matthew 20:20). It was probably from her that John inherited his noble mental tendencies. We early find him among the disciples of the Baptist, and he was undoubtedly one of the first disciples of Jesus (John 1:35 comp. Matthew 4:21, &c.) John, together with his brother James, and Peter, were gradually admitted into a peculiarly intimate relation with the Lord (Matthew 16:17). These three disciples were the very elect of the elect.1 We sometimes see him associated with Peter, especially in the mission to prepare the Passover (Luke 22:8). We subsequently find this distinguished position of John in connection with Peter, appearing as permanent in the Acts. In this book he everywhere appears, with Peter alone, at the head of the apostolic band; he therefore and Peter were decidedly acknowledged as the most gifted, most blessed, and most important pillars of the Church,-an acknowledgment which the Lord’s treatment of them would seem to have sanctioned. With reference, however, to Peter, Jesus had in some respects given John the precedence, and in others postponed him to that apostle. In personal relation to Christ, he was the first, the friend of Jesus, who lay on His breast, to whom the Lord committed the care of his mother-whom in this respect He put in His own position (John 13:23; John 19:26-27; John 21:7; John 21:20-25). But in his vocation to found and guide the Church of Christ, Peter was preferred to him, as well as to the other apostles (Matthew 16:18-19; Luke 22:31; John 21:15). This appointment of Christ formed no legal privilege; it only made the actual natural relations in which the two apostles stood to each other and to Him clear to the Church, and obtained for them the recognition of the community. Hence these relations are seen to exist also in the Acts of the Apostles. Peter everywhere appears in heroic greatness of deed; John walks in mysterious silence near the mighty pioneer-apostle. He must consequently, as far as force of natural character is concerned, be esteemed as far less important than Peter, if the perfectly equal respect they received did not lead us to infer the actual equilibrium of these personalities. We must then seek the distinctive gifts of John in those less conspicuous qualities of heart and mind which are far removed from this prominent activity, and expect to find him as far superior to Peter in his powers of mental contemplation, as Peter is to him in powers of energetic action. This expectation is confirmed, as soon as we compare the first Epistle of John with the first Epistle of Peter. The first Epistle of John forms a homogeneous appendix to the fourth Gospel.1 In it are displayed that disposition which rises to lyric fervour, that penetration which descends into the abysses of speculative contemplation, united with that deep strong ardour, bursting forth at intervals, which is peculiar to such a mind, and which here appears ennobled by the holy acuteness of a sublime purity. These separate features, however, when jointly contemplated, bear the impress of sublime, childlike simplicity, and are encompassed by a halo of lonely solemnity. The negative side of this said subjective disposition appears in the circumstance, that here, as everywhere, John brings forward but few historical references; in his writings the actual is merged and explained in the contemplative. Its positive side is displayed in the powerful apprehension of all worldly relations; e.g., in the words, ‘Children, it is the last time;’ while the poetic flights of the fervour which pervades all his expressions, is often prominent, as perhaps in the passage where he so solemnly addresses the fathers, the young men, and the children (1 John 2:13). His enlightened penetration is shown, when he says of God, He is light, and in Him is no darkness; of Christ, The Life was manifested; of Christians, Ye have an anointing, and know all things; while the product of the subtlest speculative tendency is seen when, e.g., he defines sin as the transgression of the law. Yet he is no philosophic or poetic idealist; his mind has a truly practical turn. This is seen even in his ardent zeal; as, e.g., when he says, He that doeth sin is of the devil. This ardour sometimes kindles into sublimest purity. When he says, Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer, we are reading the very soul of a Christian man, to whom the world of thought has almost become the world of reality. But when it is said, Little children, abide in Him, we recognize the tone of his own noble simplicity; and in the words, This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith, is expressed the silent triumph of the man, who, by his unexcitable, almost leisurely seeming solemnity, has left the world certainly as important an apostolic blessing as any of his fellow-apostles have done in their more stirring performances. In the first Epistle of Peter, we recognize an apostle of an entirely opposite character from John, though one with him in Christian spirit. We find here the aspiring spirit, contemplating with peculiar delight the Christian hope, the incorruptible inheritance, and rejoicing with joy unspeakable, and full of glory, in the assurance of the Lord’s return; the preaching spirit, encouraging, exhorting, consoling, and even declaring of the Lord Jesus, that He himself preached to the spirits in prison; the dauntless believing spirit, looking upon himself and his fellow-Christians as a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, to show forth the praises of Christ; the ordering and arranging spirit, giving special exhortations, now to Christians in general, now to servants, to women, to men, to elders, to young Christians; the animated spirit, dealing in concrete views, loving to speak in figures, parables, and examples,-e.g., of the gold purified by the fire, of the sincere milk of the word, of the precious corner-stone, of the typical obedience of Sarah; the valiant and warlike spirit, looking upon the adversary the devil as a roaring lion; finally, the spirit purified by suffering, who would stop the mouth of adversaries not with evil, but with well-doing;-in a word, we find every where that it is the converted Peter who is speaking to us. His second Epistle also testifies to the same relation of the two apostles to each other, and to the Lord, by still exhibiting the decided and great contrast of their respective peculiarities. When these two disciples first heard from the pious women the confused report of the Lord’s resurrection, they both ran to the sepulchre. John ran the more quickly; the impulse of his soul was more fervid, his enthusiasm was more soaring, more angel-like. Arrived at the grave, however, either reverence, or deep anxiety, or fearful anticipation suddenly restrained him. The prompt resolution of Peter, however, here gave him the precedence, and he went first into the grave. After the resurrection, we find the disciples, during the long interval of forty days, again on the Sea of Galilee; and again they pass the night upon the water, occupied in fishing. In the twilight of the morning, they see a mysterious personage standing on the shore. John is the first to recognize Him; the eagle glance of his mind seems to extend even to his bodily eye, and he says, ‘It is the Lord!’ At the word of the discriminative apostle, the energetic apostle plunges into the water. It is Peter who swims to meet Jesus. In the high-priest’s palace, which he entered together with Peter, John maintained his exalted and silent individuality before the obtrusiveness of rude accusers, while Peter was driven first to make himself conspicuous, and then to deny his Master. Hence, also, he passed as it were in heavenly concealment through the tribulations of the early Church, while the other great apostles were baptized with a baptism of blood, one after another. Hence, while the other apostles were agitating the great capitals of the then known world by the preaching of the Gospel, John died in peace as Bishop of Ephesus, one of the churches founded by Paul. And hence, finally, Peter was the rock upon which the Church of Christ was built at its commencement; it was his agency which pervaded the apostolic Church, and gave to it that energetic tendency to go forth into all the world, in the power of that Spirit from above which was bestowed upon him, while the contemplative tendency, the tendency of John, could not but retire into the background. But when the enlightenment of the Church, its perfection in inner life and spirituality, was to be promoted; when the sign of the Son of man was to dart forth like lightning, from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same; the agency of John might well be the most conspicuous, and perhaps it may be reserved to the Spirit of St John, the sublime son of thunder, the dazzling lightning, the purifying storm, to be that influence under whose light and warmth the Church is to be adorned as a bride for the coming Bridegroom.1 As is the disciple, so is his Gospel. We will not any further refer to the various judgments that have been pronounced upon this much prized and much despised composition. They stand in more glaring contrast to each other than opinions concerning any of the other Gospels. It is from the hand of an angel, says one.2 A phantom-like production! says another. On one side, it is said to be the heart of Christ;3 on another, it is called mystically confused and lengthened out. Certainly John had to bear the cross in his own person, and he has ever had to bear it in his Gospel during its propagation through the world. Yet the unpopular Evangelist was happy, in the midst of all misconception, in the reality of his view of the Lord’s glory; and spirits akin to his have ever been so, in spite of their isolation in the world.4 The fourth Gospel bears the most distinct impress of the above-named characteristics of John. We find in it a profound insight which seizes the historical only in its most pregnant incidents, and contemplates in these, on one side, the whole fulness of the actual, on the other, the whole depth of the ideal. John the Baptist here represents the whole series of pre-Christian Old Testament prophets, through whose instrumentality christological light dawned upon the world; while Peter and John represent the continued prevalence of this light in the world after Christ’s return to the Father. In a few chief incidents, the Evangelist shows us, first, how the light and life, after its appearance, attracted the receptive; and then how the unreceptive turned away from it; then, next, how the contrast between light and darkness was exhibited in more developed form; and, finally, how the signs of the victory which is destined to annihilate the darkness appeared. Thus the history which the Evangelist relates, is thoroughly penetrated by the ideality of his view of the world. The spiritual penetration of his view of Christ appears also in the freshness of his world of thought. As his facts are thoughts, so are his thoughts life. According to his mode of expression, the knowledge of eternal life and the true historic view of Christ is the knowledge of the Father. This inwardness often bears in his Gospel the lovely blossom of a lyric fervour, especially in the farewell discourses, where wave upon wave of inspired, sacred, evangelical feeling appear in a rich succession, which obtuseness of mind has more than once most miserably misconceived. The profundity of the Evangelist has laid down in this Gospel principles of the deepest and purest speculation, principles whose whole depth, when contrasted with the efforts hitherto made by philosophy, stand like the Jungfrau peak among the Alps. And what a wonderful polar relation to that eagle glance, which loses itself in the sunny heights of truth, is borne by that swift, lightning-like, blasting, holy indignation, wherewith the Evangelist sees the condemning light of the Gospel fall upon the world, or upon ‘the Jews,’ the worldly spirits of Israel. He even assumes an appearance of contradiction to designate that desperate hatred of the light in the strongest terms. ‘His own received Him not. But as many as received Him,’ &c. ‘This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light.’ ‘Ye seek Me, not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves.’ ‘Why do ye not understand My speech?-Ye are of your father the devil.’ How forcible is the reproof: ‘Because I tell you the truth, ye believe Me not!’ And in the midst of all this fervid severity, we still recognize the constant prevalence of that quiet and simple spirit, whose sacred repose and sabbatic peace are forcibly contrasted with the busy restlessness of its opponents, and which is ever a characteristic of the Evangelists through every line of the Gospels. How characteristic is the scene at Jacob’s well, when Christ, so opportunely resting at the well, discloses to a Samaritan woman, with so much freedom, the marvels of truth! The manner, too, in which Christ says to His disciples, at the close of the fourteenth chapter, ‘Arise, let us go hence,’ and then remains with His disciples, sunk in the long and continuous reflections which fill three chapters, without changing the place, is also singularly striking in this respect. These were the moments in which, most especially, the view of the disciple was entirely blended with the deeply stirred, yet solemn frame of his Master. The whole of the twenty-first chapter, also, is pervaded by that sabbatic peace which is best defined as the characteristic peculiarity of St John’s mind. The Evangelist ends his narrative by truly reporting a falsely interpreted saying of Christ. Its full interpretation is reserved to the coming of Christ. Thus the end, when Christ the revealed Word will explain and illuminate the destinies of all, is connected with the beginning, in which the Word and the destinies of all were still resting in the bosom of the Father. The ancient Church made a fitting selection in the symbol it appropriated to the fourth Evangelist. As the eagle in his lofty soaring attains, in a few great efforts, those pauses of still hovering, when he rests upon his outspread pinions, entranced by the glory of the sun, and, in transports of delight, bends his course towards it; so did the Evangelist quickly free himself from Galilee, from John the Baptist, from the ideal of his mother Salome, and even from the expectation of having as much influence in his own way within the Church as Peter, or breaking up new ground in the world like Paul, and make it both the labour and rest of his life to contemplate and to exhibit the spiritual glory, the light of the world, in Christ and in His history. He was called, in profound and blessed contemplation, to perceive in the Gospel history, and in simple, yet sublime touches, to exhibit the ideal lights which break through Christ’s words and works-the lyric tone of the peace which pervades His manner of acting and expressing Himself; the lightning-like flashes of the conflict between the Spirit of Christ and the spirit of the world, accompanied as they were by the rolling thunders; the life of Godhead in the sufferings of the Lamb, or the enjoyment of eternal peace in the depth of atoning woes; the dawn of the glorification of the Father in the Son, and of the Son in the Church. Hence his Gospel is the central point of ideal Christology, placing all those expressions of christological life which relate to it in their proper light, and teaching us rightly to estimate all the developments which have resulted from the dispersion of the fruitful seed of the divine Logos1 throughout the world. All the guesses of philosophy that the unity of the Eternal Spirit was the ideal principle of the world-all genuine poetic feeling appearing as the blossom of a momentary union with the Eternal Spirit-all manifestations of pure enthusiasm which suffer thought to appear through the tone of feeling, and exhibit feeling in the light of thought; but especially all those inward festivals of Christian peace, in which hearts become so one with the Father in the Son, through the Holy Ghost, that the troubles and labours which had perplexed them are terminated-and all the outward festivals of the Church in which the greatest facts of history glitter with spiritual glory throughout the world, and ring aloud over the earth the eternal thoughts of God incorporated in established customs, so that the dawn of an eternal and untroubled Sabbath already appears upon the high places of the civilised world; in a word, all the incidents of festal spiritual life upon earth, in its reference to its eternal destination,-are echoes of the prevailing tone of this Gospel; and if this apostle is regarded as a prince in the kingdom of Christ, possessing one of the twelve thrones, it may be said that he is the prince of that province whose situation is the highest, and whose beauty is the most tranquil,-that in his realm the noblest vines flourish on the high and picturesque mountains, whose very peaks are surrounded by a genial and fragrant atmosphere, while in the morning sun which illumines the gothic domes of his domains, and lights the festal processions upon their glittering paths, hovers the eagle that brought him his pen from the hand of the Lord. If, then, the life of Christ is exhibited in the first Gospel with reference to the historical destiny of the world, and especially its tragic events; in the second, to the powers of the world; in the third, to the human heart, and especially the heart neglected, suffering, and feeling its need of consolation; and in the fourth, to the eternal ideals, and to lyric and meditative views of them,-it still appears to us as unalterably one, under each new aspect, in every essential form of human life. This reference may, however, be viewed from four points of view. First, the Gospels teach us the difference of the instruments generally employed to communicate the Gospel, and enable us to estimate the value of this difference. Then, on the other hand, they point out the various forms and degrees of receptivity, and of felt need of salvation, existing in the world. If, then, we view the whole dark world in the light cast upon it by Christ’s Gospel, we may say that we possess a Gospel of all tragic historical occurrences, a Gospel of all forces, a Gospel of all humanity, a Gospel of all ideality. When, however, we refer the variety of this negative fulness of the world, which Christ will fill and illumine, to Him the Head, He appears to us as the purely historical hero, in whom the suffering of the historical curse became, through perfected historical fidelity, the reconciliation of the world, the Gospel; as the Lord of powers, whose harmony He restores, whose new doctrine it is, that with authority He commandeth even the unclean spirits, and who bequeaths to His disciples power over serpents and poisons (Mark 16:18); as fairest of the children of men, the friend of the human race, who listens to all the sighs of humanity, counts all its tears, who meets the funeral procession of mankind as He did that before the gate of Nain, as a helper and consoler; and, finally, as the Elect, the Only-begotten of the Father, in whom the Father beholds Himself, in whom the creative thought of God is one with reality, and whose glorification in the kingdom of the Spirit results in the recovery of the obscured ideality of the whole world, who elevates human nature with Himself into the free and blessed kingdom of the Spirit. The four Gospels thus form a cycle in which Christ’s glory is exhibited in the fulness of His life, and His nature developed in the four chief forms of life. Three of these forms stand in evidently sharp contrast to each other; they are symbolically designated by the three forms of animal life. But if the fourth, which is denoted by the figure of the man, is to represent merely the temperament or the higher unity of the other three forms, it would seem, indeed, that we might expect to find in Luke’s Gospel a unity of the other three. Now it cannot be ignored that such a unity is actually presented, or, in other words, that the respective views of each separate Evangelist are re-echoed therein;-that of Matthew, for instance, in his communication of a genealogy and the notions connected therewith; that of Mark, in the exhibition of the constant miracles and journeys of Christ; and lastly, that of John, especially in the prominence given to the circumstance, that Jesus frequently continued whole nights in prayer (chap. 6:1, 9:29, 11:1, 21:3-7). It is, however, equally true, that the peculiarity of Luke is, as we have already seen, strongly contrasted with the peculiarities of the other Evangelists. It would also oppose the idea of the organic relation of Christ to His Church, if His fulness were represented with equal power and emphasis by one instrument. How then shall we explain this apparent contradiction, that one Gospel should pre-eminently represent the divine humanity of Christ, and yet should not appear merely as the unity of the three others, which each give special prominence to one essential christological relation? We obtain an explanation of this difficulty by an accurate distinction between the different stages of human life. Man, as such, appears as the climax of creation, in whom the above-named general forms of life celebrate their higher unity. Paradisaic man, however, existed but for a short period; and historic man, as a fallen being, so lost that height and harmony of life, that he can now, in a humanity subject to weakness and limitation, appear as a special and separate form of life beside the three animal forms; and it is in this limited condition that this fourth living creature represents the historical state of mankind. It is through its imperfect coincidence with the idea that history becomes tragic. It represents a deterioration, in which even that which is most noble in human nature generally appears only in fragments. In this dislocation of human powers, actual suffering faithfulness and pure ideality seemed to be most widely separated. The one is struggling, suffering, bleeding, in the midst of the reality of actual national life. The other is soaring far above reality, in the regions of philosophy and poetry, and is often celebrating her highest triumphs while reality is at its most pitiable state of depression. Between these extremes of natural life are seen, on one side, the ardent zeal of powerful and pious spirits, exercised in manifold and energetic rebukes; on the other, that humanity, specially so called, which no sooner casts a look upon human need and misery, than, with a compassion which no prejudice can restrain, it makes it forthwith its life-task to soothe, to help, and to heal. This deterioration, however, of the christological element is put an end to in the life of Jesus. In Him, man as such, the ideal man, becomes historical; historic man, ideal. His life embraces, in wondrous union and harmony, and in infinite power, fulness, and purity, all the vital powers of humanity, all its aspirations after the heights of absolute perfection. If, then, we glance once more at the prophetic symbol in which we have a typical reflection of the spiritual relations of human life, of Christology, and especially of the characteristic relations existing between the four Evangelists, the varying hues of signification in the fourth living creature (the human) may now be pointed out. This human form first expresses the notion of the union of the three other living creatures; it has a reference to the ideal of human nature in its perfection. But it also represents man in his historical weakness and limitation, as he appears co-ordinately with the other forms as a fourth; not merely, perhaps, because the ox bleeds for him in symbolical worship, because the lion terrifies him, because the eagle soars over his head independently of him; but rather because his historic destiny, with its need of sacrifice, the heroic activity of the zealous messengers of God, and the sublime mysteries of ideal life generally, confront him as strange and terrible powers, with whom he is outwardly combined, but not inwardly united. And when he would, in his highest efforts, unite himself with them, this union is ever but a partial one. If he sacrifices himself for the sake of his country, the lion opposes him as his destroyer, as was the case with Huss; if he walks in the ways of the lion, he often renders himself a grievous scourge to others, as proved by the Hussites; if he soars with the eagle, he generally forgets the wants of his fellow-men, as many idealists and mystics have done. Hence he is called upon, in his weakness, to concentrate himself, that he may do what is most human in a human manner, may check human misery with all the might of such divine strength as still remains in him, till the grace of God completes its work by guiding the ardent inward co-operation of those human powers which seem outwardly separated and severed, and restores harmony by the sending of the Son of man. It is then limited humanity, rather than humanity in general, which is denoted by the cherubic symbol of the man. The notion of human unity, which is involved therein, is an indication of real unity, which was in many ways pointed to by the Holy of Holies of the Jewish temple as a unity to come, though it was definitely represented by no separate symbol, for the sake of giving the impression that it had not yet appeared. This unity was exemplified in an action, at the moment when the high priest tremblingly entered the Holy of Holies and sprinkled the mercy-seat. The tables of the law represented the roaring of the Lion of Judah; the sacrificial blood represented the Lamb of God, or sacrifice; the priest was the instrument of active compassion; the whole figure of the cherubim at such a moment, under the awe of the Lord’s presence, spoke mysteriously of the eternal idea of the spirit of revelation. The power of this atonement was indeed only symbolic, and soon departed; it was founded, however, on the continual intervention and government of the incarnate love of God, in the depths of Israel’s life. When the God-man appeared in Christ, in whom the union of all human powers and forms of power was not only realized, but also confirmed and glorified, the old symbolism of the tabernacle had answered its purpose, and the actual life appeared in its place. But the life of Christ, which now entered the world to pervade it, and to change it into pure light and life, entered it in that fourfold form of human life, that its whole fulness might be poured out therein, because it was only by such an entrance that it could certainly comprehend and win the world in all its forms of life; on the one hand, in all its instruments, on the other, in all its necessities. There are individuals whose gifts remind us of Matthew, others who represent Mark, others again in whom resemblances to Luke or John appear. These all draw, according to their measure, from the fulness of Christ. For the reception of these manifold gifts there exist so many needs, these encounter the fulness of Christ in the form of utter poverty and nakedness. Wavering communities, ever ready to be unfaithful to themselves, need the heroes of suffering fidelity; weak multitudes, tormented by demons, cry for instruments of vigorous and delivering power; the poor and despised of this world long for the Gospel to heal their wounds through the angels of Christian philanthropy; the ever impending torpor of a dull realism and coarse utilitarianism needs sacred spirits who, themselves drawing from the source of eternal life, may be able to extend to the ageing Church the chalice of rejuvenescence.1 The Church of Christ exhibits these fundamental forms wholesale. The priestly element in the Church reminds us of the view and gifts of Matthew; Mark seems to live again in energetic and powerful revival preachers; the founders of Christian institutions of mercy, the instruments of help to the needy of all kinds, represent the Lord according to Luke’s view; while theology is radically after the style of John, and is indeed ever in a state of declension, when the tone of that apostle seems either strange or offensive to it. In the life of the Church this tone resounds in sacred songs. These four forms, in their reference to the unity of the divine-human life, are reflected also in the Christian State. Justice and magistracy in the State, for instance, correspond with priestliness in the Church; administration and military order have an internal reference to their counterparts among the powers of the world to come; in those humane institutions by which the State cares for the relief of human need, especially in medical institutions, we find an echo of Christian pity; while, lastly, science and art will only correspond with their ideals, so far as they maintain their natural reference to the Church and theology, and through these as media, to Christ. Since, then, Christ enters by His Spirit, according to these various forms, into His elect instruments, by them into His Church, by the Church into the State, and by the State into the whole world, He places the rights and value of human peculiarities in the clearest light, nay, protects them even in their form of relative partialities, whether these partialities are displayed in the prevalance of historical fidelity, theocratic activity, universal humanity, or quiet and contemplative idealism. Their rights are defended by the fact that they all exist in perfect harmony in Christ, and that in their united efforts they represent the fundamental forms of edification for His Church. It is only when they sever from or misconceive each other, and withdraw themselves from obedience to the Spirit of Christ, which would bind them together into a real unity, as they already, abstractedly considered, form an ideal one, and have the germ of a real one in Him, that they become blameable; e.g., a humanity which seeks to sever itself from Christian firmness and power, a priestliness apart from the ideality of free judgment, an ideality removed from common life. In such forms they are but phantoms of the life they should exhibit, and even inimical to, and inconsistent with, that life. Hence modern preachers of apostolic succession, and clerical priests, are adversaries to the doctrine of the true atonement, and modern idealists are opponents of John. They are, however, but phantoms. For the Lord triumphantly continues His work, the development of His glory, by quickening and purifying faithful men who exhibit such partialities. It is from such partialities, so far as they remain Christian in their proportion and tendency, so far as they gravitate towards Christ, the centre of attraction to all life, that, as the result of the continuous purification which they receive from contact with each other, those peculiarities burst forth which develop in ever-increasing brightness and beauty, that immortal germ which they bear within them. Ever more and more is one reflected in another, each in all; ever more and more do their contrasts become expressions of the fulness and power of their unity. It is in such a consecration that we behold the four Gospels. How manifold are the contrasts they exhibit! As the eagle soars high above those living creatures who are chained by their nature to earth, so does John soar, in his ideality, above the other three Evangelists; on which account Clement of Alexandria, a partial and idealistic theologian, called his Gospel the spiritual, and dared to designate the others, as contrasted with his, the corporeal Gospels. On the other hand, Matthew differs from the other three by making historical truth, as it glorifies the true King of the Jews in His atoning sufferings, and the illustration furnished by the Old Testament to the New, the central points of His delineation. Mark also proportions his efforts to the aim he had in view; he leaves it to others to report the discourses of Jesus, and to delineate the inner workings of His life. His hero is the Lion who even in death shakes heaven and earth with His cry, and is soon upon the scene again, conquering and redeeming every creature. The aim of Luke, compared with that of the others, is displayed in the force of his universalism: he balances the seventy disciples for the world in general, against the twelve apostles for Israel. The position of the Gospels is also characteristic: the Gospel of historical truth and that of the ideal perfection of Christ are farthest apart; they form the advanced and rear guards of the company. Near to the Gospel of the Lord’s powerful agency stands the Gospel of His mild and compassionate control, the Angel next the Lion. And if the combination of the two first Gospels exhibits the Lord under the contrast of victim and sacrificer, the combination of the two latter expresses the contrast of love ever acting in prayer, and love ever praying in the midst of action. The unity of all is, however, expressed in the fact that they all form but one Gospel, that they all glorify the one Christ. It will now, therefore, be our task to exhibit first of all that representation of the life of Jesus which is derived from the four Gospels in combination, and then to bring prominently forward, by an examination of each separate Gospel, the specific nature of their respective views of Christ. These examinations will indeed be but attempts, but even with all their deficiencies they may direct attention to the delicate yet decided organic unity of the four Gospel forms of life, and the indissolubility of their organisms; and if this be in any measure their result, the nuisance of the now prevailing atomistic and talmudistic criticism of the Gospels will be stopped in its career. The greater advantage, however, would be the positive one of more decidedly exhibiting the fulness of Christ in the Gospels, their variety being made the clearer by the more developed delineation of their unity, their unity by a nicer discrimination of their variety. notes 1. Of the apostolic labours of Matthew, especially his later ones beyond the limits of Palestine, and of his end, tradition has much to tell (comp. Winer, R. W. B. i. 73). Eusebius relates that, after writing his Gospel, he directed his efforts to other nations (iii. 24). His new sphere of labour has been variously designated by various authorities. Macedonia, Upper Syria, Persia, Parthia, and Media, have each been named, but the tradition which points out Ethiopia as the scene of his ministry has received most credit. In the times of Clement of Alexandria his martyrdom was not known of, but a severe ascetic course of life was ascribed to him. He was subsequently reckoned among the martyrs. A comparison of the passage in his Gospel (chap. xxiv. 15, &c.) which seems to hint that the time for the departure of the Christians from Jerusalem was at hand, with the statement of Eusebius, that the Christians departed to Pella, a town in the hilly district beyond Jordan, would lead us to seek for the last traces of Matthew in this direction. Pantænus (according to Eusebius) afterwards found his Gospel, in the Hebrew language, in the hands of the Christians of a country called India, by which we must probably understand Arabia (Neander, Church History, i. 113 [Bohn’s Tr.]). In this direction, then, i.e., beyond Pella and towards Arabia, Matthew seems to have terminated his career. It is Bartholomew, however, whom Eusebius designates as properly the apostle of the Arabians. 2. Tradition is very unanimous in its accounts, that Mark left Rome to preach the Gospel in Egypt, where he founded Christian churches, and became the first Bishop of Alexandria. According to Jerome, he died in the eighth year of Nero’s reign. According to the Alexandrian Chronicle, he suffered martyrdom in the reign of Trajan, being burned by the idolaters. 3. The tradition that Luke was a painter is of very recent origin. It is found in the Ecclesiastical History of Nicephorus, who wrote in the fourteenth century. According to Eusebius Luke preached in Dalmatia, Gaul, Italy, and Macedonia. Nicephorus also makes his labours lie in the same direction, by reporting that he suffered martyrdom in Greece. According to Isidorus Hispalensis and the Martyrologies, he died in Bithynia. 4. When Paul was at Jerusalem for the last time (Acts 21:18), John seems to have been no longer there. It is probable that the Virgin was already dead, and that he had departed thence. Whither ‘John first betook himself after leaving Jerusalem,’ says Credner (Einl. 215), ‘is a circumstance veiled in utter obscurity. It could not have been to Ephesus, as Paul would then have avoided that place (comp. Romans 15:20, 2 Corinthians 10:16, Galatians 2:7-8), and would also have spoken in different terms to the Ephesian elders on his return from his third journey. Neither can we admit the presence of John at Ephesus at the time when Paul sent the Epistle to the Ephesians into those districts. But that he was really there subsequently, is testified by history (Iren. adv. Hæres. iii. 3. 4).’ According to Clement of Alexandria, he was banished for a time to the island of Patmos by a tyrant, and came to Ephesus after the death of his persecutor. Domitian is afterwards named as the tyrant by whom John was banished. Tertullian relates the tradition, that John was, before his banishment, thrown into boiling oil at Rome, without suffering any harm. According to Irenæus, he lived till the time of Trajan. Epiphanius says that he attained the age of ninety-four; Chrysostom, that he lived to be one hundred and twenty. On the traditions concerning his advanced years, comp. Neander, Planting and Training, &c., i. 411 [Bohn’s Ed.] According to Mark 3:17, John, together with his brother James, received a surname from the Lord Jesus. They were called Boanerges. Von Ammon supposes (Gesch. des Lebens Jesu, p. 77) that Mark translated this word incorrectly, sons of thunder, and that it rather means hot-headed ones. Mark, however, is not merely the reporter of the Hebrew, but also of the Greek expression, and it is not as a translator but as an Evangelist that he gives the Greek name. As a Hebrew too, he must well have known that øâù might be so rendered. This designation of the sons of Zebedee has often been referred to their expression of indignation, when they desired to call down fire from heaven upon a Samaritan town, because it did not receive the Lord Jesus (Luke 9:51). Concerning this name, comp. the article of Gurlitt in the Studien und Kritiken, 1829, No. 4; and that of the author in the same periodical for the year 1839, No. 1, Ueber die Authentie der vier Evang. p. 60. The Lord would scarcely have bestowed upon His disciples a surname which would have attached to them a lasting stigma; nor could He, with His perfect knowledge of nature, look upon thunder as merely a ‘senseless destructive power,’ and employ it as a symbolic name in this sense; the phenomenon of thunder was surely too significant, beautiful, and holy in His eyes, for such a purpose. Undoubtedly, thunder was to His mind a sublime phenomenon, testifying to the Father’s glory. In fact, neither moral praise nor moral blame seem intended in this designation. The word denotes a special temperament. As Simon was surnamed a rock, on account of his manly, powerful, and zealous activity, so were James and John surnamed sons of thunder, on account of their calm and lofty temperament, which could yet suddenly flash forth into light and power like lightning. The word was the indorsement of their peculiarity and of their process of development; it included both the reproof of their sinful effervescence, and the loving acknowledgment of the characteristic features of their noble and soaring spirits. [The etymology and significance of this name are most fully considered by Lampe in his . in Joan. Proleg. i. 2.-Ed.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 50: 02.041. SECOND BOOK ======================================================================== SECOND BOOK The Historical Delineation of the Life of Jesus PRELIMINARY DISCUSSION ======================================================================== CHAPTER 51: 02.042. SECTION I ======================================================================== Section I the principal chronological periods ascertained IN undertaking a chronologically arranged history of the life of the Lord Jesus Christ, our first task must necessarily be a comparison of the four Gospels, with reference to the order of events communicated by their respective statements.1 If apparent or actual discrepancies are discovered by this process, our next effort must be an attempt to ascertain the true sequence; and when this has been discovered, to point out, and if possible to explain, the several departures therefrom, by the peculiar position of the Evangelist with respect to the objective Gospel history. That the Evangelists do not all relate events in the same order, is an acknowledged fact. Of late, indeed, a considerable mass of seeming discrepancies have been added to these actual discrepancies; as, e.g., by the view that John relates the call of the first disciples as taking place at a period differing from that stated by the synoptists, reports Christ’s agony before His crucifixion, and at another place, and differs from them also concerning the day of the crucifixion. But though a more thorough comprehension of the Gospel history scatters such obscurities as these, it yet brings also into clearer light such discrepancies of chronology as actually exist. Those arising from a comparison between John and the synoptists may first be noticed. According to the latter (Matthew 4:12; Mark 1:14; Luke 4:14), it might be assumed that Jesus commenced His public ministry in Galilee, and that, indeed, after John had been cast into prison; while from the statement of John it appears, that Jesus, after His first public appearance in Jerusalem, laboured for a period, contemporaneously with the Baptist, in Judea. The discrepancy may, indeed, be reduced to a merely seeming one, arising from an inaccuracy in the earlier Evangelists, viz., that they all omit Christ’s first official attendance at the Passover, and thus confuse His return from the banks of Jordan after His baptism with His return from the same place after that festival. The inaccuracy is certainly sufficiently prominent to assume the appearance of an actual discrepancy, until it is explained by the origin of the first three Gospels. But even the synoptists, independently considered, often differ in details in their respective orders. In the history of the temptation, for instance, Matthew makes the temptation upon the pinnacle of the temple precede that upon the high mountain; while Luke inverts this order. The latter places the occurrence at Nazareth, and the inimical disposition of the Nazarenes to the Lord, before His journeyings (Luke 4:16); while Matthew brings forward this event after Jesus had already been sojourning some time at Capernaum (Matthew 13:54). The different positions occupied by the Lord’s Prayer in these two Gospels may also be mentioned here (Matthew 6:9; Luke 11:2); while an inspection of a synopsis will immediately show other details which might be added. Finally, the Evangelist Luke seems even to confuse his own order, by relating Christ’s entry into Bethany at Luke 10:38, and then saying, Luke 17:11, that He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee; though this, indeed, may be explained by the remark, that he gives the occurrences of several journeys consecutively. If, then, the fact is proved, that the Evangelists thus frequently differ from each other as to the order of events, the question arises, what is the rule by which their statements are to be reconciled? First, we meet with the arrangement which attributes to each Evangelist an equal, and even perfect correctness, with respect to the matter in question. This result of harmony was connected with the rigidity of ancient, and especially of Lutheran orthodoxy. Andrew Osiander, in his Harmonia Evangeliorum, proceeds upon the principle, that ‘since the Evangelists were inspired, they could not but write truth, and consequently gave the discourses of Jesus verbotenus, and His discourses and acts in strictest consecutive order. Now as each of the four Evangelists is said to have written in consecutive order, while the same events are recorded at an earlier period by one, and at a later by others, no resource is left us but to take evidently parallel and identical occurrences for non-identical, and to suppose that the same occurrence, accompanied by the same circumstances, was frequently repeated.’1 A composition would consequently have to be made, into which all these repetitions must be compressed. A want of life was the fundamental fault of this view, by which a perplexed, confusing multiplicity of Gospel facts, a multiplicity resting upon a very precarious tenure, was obtained, and the great, clear, and self-certifying unity of the Gospel history was lost.1 After the view of Osiander was abandoned, it became necessary to consider the separate Evangelists, with a view to discover which among them had preserved the groundwork of the true sequence, according to which the statements of the rest were to be arranged. Chemnitz (Harmoniæ Evangelicæ) decided for Matthew, yet did not follow him throughout. J. A. Bengel also (Richtige Harmonie der Evang.) considered that Matthew had observed chronological order, while Mark and Luke had allowed themselves more freedom than this would give them. The assumption that Matthew at least gives us to understand that he intended to write with strict regard to chronology, has of late been made use of in opposing the credibility of his Gospel. On the other hand, however, the persuasion that Matthew groups events according to their real connection, and follows this order in his statements, has been expressed with increasing certainty, especially by Olshausen (Commentary on the Gospels, Introd. p. 18), Hase (Das Leben Jesu, p. 3), Ebrard (Gospel History, p. 66). They who regard the Gospel of Mark as the basis of the two other synoptical Gospels, cannot but give it the preference with regard to chronology also; as, e.g., Weisse (die Evang. Gesch. i. 66, 295). As the critical fates would have it, Mark obtained a recognition in this respect even from Schleiermacher, who, wishing to prove that the testimony of Papias does not apply to our extant Gospel according to Mark, refers to the declaration of Papias, that Mark wrote οὐ τάξει, while the present Gospel evidently follows a chronological order and decided plan. The chronological sequence of Mark is indeed frequently such, that everything takes place εὐθέως, in rapid succession. His order is, at all events, generally founded on the true order, as will be subsequently shown. Others again (compare Schott, Isagoge, p. 107; Zahn, Das Reich Gottes auf Erden, Pt. ii. p. 4) give Luke the preference. But the third Gospel, as before pointed out, exhibits as little as the first and second, a distinctly arranged order in details. ‘In the course of this Gospel, a similar indistinctness concerning the sequence of events is manifested, as in the other two; Luke, for the most part, narrates event after event, without any notice of time (Luke 4:16, Luke 4:31, Luke 5:12, &c.), and sometimes alternately uses the indefinite transitions μετὰ ταῦτα (Luke 5:27), ἐν μιᾷ τῶν ἡμερων (Luke 5:17, Luke 8:22, &c.).’ Olshausen, Commentary, i. 19. Our inquiries after the true order have now brought us to the Gospel of John. And here also that ruling spirit of the Evangelists, which found higher and certainly more important principles to influence their delineations of the life of Christ than those of chronological sequence, seems to cut off all hope of obtaining abundant chronological foundations. The principle of John’s view of the Gospel was a decidedly ideal and christological one; we are not therefore surprised to find that the leading incidents of his development do not coincide with the leading chronological periods. B. Jakobi1 rightly remarks, ‘The definitions of time in this Gospel are so delivered, that it is seen that the question with John is not to furnish a chronological, and least of all a complete chronological sketch of the life of Christ. Notes of time, when they are found, serve for the most part only to aid our conception of the position of an event or discourse; or to explain some circumstance of the narrative; or they obtrude themselves upon the narrator without design on his part, as integral parts of the occurrence which he is relating, by vivid representations of his own past experiences.’ In confirmation of this may be cited the circumstance, that John does not more nearly define the feast of the Jews, John 5:1, and thereby introduces an element of uncertainty into his chronology of the life of Jesus, which has presented many difficulties to investigators. Nevertheless Jakobi rightly asserts, that the Gospel of John must always furnish the foundation, according to which the statements of the other Evangelists must be arranged, with respect to their historical sequence; though he expresses this assertion too strongly in the remark that this Gospel is the only representation of the life of Jesus which is authentic, thoroughly credible, and, though very incomplete, yet perfectly self-consistent and accurate in all its several details, &c. Ebrard also expresses his conviction, that it was the intention of John to write consecutively and chronologically (p. 121). Neander is of the same opinion. He shows2 that, from the circumstance that the paschal festival is only once mentioned by the synoptists, and that at the close of Christ’s earthly course nothing further could, in the absence of other chronological indications, be inferred. The mention of the Passover feast might have been omitted, as well as other notes of time. But since nothing is found in the first Gospels which opposes the notion that Christ’s ministry extended over more years than one; since it is improbable in itself, that it should have lasted but one year; and since even in Luke a passing remark occurs which necessarily assumes the intervention of a Passover during Christ’s public ministry (the σάββατον δευτερόπρωτον, Luke 6:1-49, in combination with the ripe ears of corn); all this is in favour of John, who mentions the different Passovers. After further discussing this subject, Neander rightly remarks, ‘If then it is to this Gospel alone that we are indebted for a chronologically arranged and practically connected representation of the public ministry of Jesus, a very favourable light is thus thrown upon its origin and historical character.’ Wieseler completes this estimation of the Gospel of John by the remark, that Luke also offers several special and important dates; e.g., Luke 2:1-2, Luke 3:23, Luke 3:1-2; Acts 1:1; Acts 1:3 : he consequently regards the two last Evangelists ‘as peculiarly his guides and authorities’ in his chronological investigations (Chr. Syn. p. 25). The actual disparity between the three first Gospels and the fourth, must, besides the reasons already offered, be referred especially to the disparity between the circle of general evangelical tradition and the circle of John’s reminiscences. When Christ attended the first Passover, He had not yet called the greater number of His apostles; and this applies especially to Matthew. His four first disciples, however, had only entered upon their first close intercourse with Him, and did not become His assistants and companions till afterwards (comp. Matthew 4:12; Matthew 4:18). Anything remarkable, therefore, that might have occurred at the first Passover, could not have been so vividly impressed upon the minds of those first disciples, as those subsequent events to which they were called to testify. The deep doctrinal transaction between Christ and Nicodemus must have been committed to the remembrance of His most confidential disciple by the Lord Himself. But the public purification of the temple, a circumstance widely known, and which the disciples would have heard of, was without difficulty inserted in the tradition of that Passover around which so many manifestations of Christ were concentrated; and the more so, since a similar expression of Christ’s displeasure at this old abuse probably recurred.1 If Jesus, as we must suppose, went up to the second Passover, this visit was, on account of circumstances, strictly private. At the minor festivals, however, which He frequented, christological discussions, of which most of the disciples had then no mature appreciation, arose between Himself and the Jews; John alone was capable of preserving their profound matter, by the power of his love and anticipative penetration. The interval between the first and third Passover was, on the contrary, chiefly filled up by the popular ministry of Christ in Galilee; and hence it was this ministry which formed the chief material of the reminiscences of most of the disciples. It is probable that at the commencement of Christ’s last ministry in Judea and Jerusalem, He was accompanied only by some and not by all His disciples; while during the subsequent trying days before the crisis, most of them were so excited and agitated, that it was only upon so calm and profound a mind as John’s that incidents of such a kind as the high-priestly prayer would make an accurate impression. And though John lived in continual intercourse with the other disciples, yet the psychical preponderance of the majority could not but decidedly influence the prevailing form of apostolical tradition. If, finally, we accept the view, that John afterwards found a delineation of this tradition in existence, it follows that he would feel all the greater impulse to write that which was peculiarly his own. He was, besides, one of those disciples of the Baptist, whose hearts had kindled towards the Saviour after His baptism, through the testimony of the Baptist, and the manifestation of His own glory. Of what occurred at this period, he had the most vivid remembrance (John 1:35, &c.) He had also special connections in Jerusalem. It is probable that an attempt was at one time made, on the part of the high priest’s family, to get information from him with respect to his Master; and that his pure and childlike spirit had withstood the temptation, without coming to an open rupture. Hence he best understood the nature of the conflict at Jerusalem. His turn, too, for religious speculation specially fitted him to preserve and give a form to the strictly christological discussions between Christ and His enemies. It was thus that the difference originated between the sphere of his reminiscences and that of the general evangelical tradition. It will result from our statement, that the material of the three first Evangelists unites harmoniously with the chronological plan of John’s narrative, into one rich whole. But if the Gospel of John is made the foundation of our delineation with respect to the ministry of Christ, everything will depend upon clearing up the one uncertain point in the midst of it, viz., as to what feast of the Jews is intended in John 5:1.1 Every possible Jewish festival has been supposed to be intended by these words. But the question has been more and more reduced to the alternative, that either the Passover or the feast of Purim must be the one alluded to.2 For Jesus returned before attending this festival (most probably at seed-time, according to John 4:35), after His first long sojourn in Judea, through Samaria to Galilee, perhaps about November or December. At this time both the feasts of Pentecost and Tabernacles would be already past. The feast of the Dedication of the Temple (ἐãêáßíéá), however, which was celebrated in the month of December (from the 25th of the month Chisleu), was too near to have left sufficient time between the return to Galilee and this festival for the lengthened ministry in Galilee, which took place in the interval. Consequently, either the feast of Purim, or the Passover of the succeeding spring, must be intended. If, then, this is the alternative to be decided on, the difference between the readings, ἡ ἑïñôὴ τῶí Ἰïõäáßùí and ἑïñôÞ, &c., without the article, is of the utmost importance. If the reading with the article is correct, and consequently the feast of the Jews simply is intended, the preference must be absolutely given to the Passover over the feast of Purim. We should then, indeed, be forced to interpose between this Passover and that mentioned John 6:4, a whole year which would be entirely barren of events. But since the reading with the article is considered ungenuine by the oldest and most important evidence (comp. Lücke and Wieseler1), the want of the article alone would incline us to the opposite view. For if merely a feast is spoken of, we should naturally conclude that one of the minor ones was intended. And when, finally, in connection with this notice, the Passover is immediately afterwards spoken of as nigh, we cannot but infer that the feast which was so near to the Passover, and preceded it with so little prominence, could be none other than the feast of Purim. This view is, after the precedent of Kepler, supported by Petavius, Tholuck, Olshausen, Neander, Krabbe, Winer, Jakobi, Ebrard, Wieseler, and others.2 It will be seen hereafter how well it accords with the inward connection of facts in the Lord’s life. Hence the public ministry of Christ was exercised, almost entirely, during the space of two years; a period including three Passovers,-the time of the first preparation for His public appearance alone, preceding the first Passover. The whole series of events, however, which this interval embraces, cannot be divided according to the several Passovers, since these occur partly in the midst of certain stages of the Gospel history, while the feast of Purim (John 5:1-47), on the contrary, forms a decided turning-point of relations. For till this feast, the enthusiasm with which the Jewish people first welcomed Christ still prevailed, and His ministry was, in spite of sundry gentle warnings, restrictions, and isolated attacks, an uninterrupted and public one. But at this feast a decided collision took place between Christ and the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem. From this time forth ‘the Jews’ persecuted, and sought to kill Him (John 5:16, comp. John 7:13; John 7:19; John 7:21-23; John 7:25). It was only occasionally, and when protected by the astonished multitude, that Jesus could henceforth freely appear among the people, being obliged, for the most part, to withdraw into Galilee, and subsequently into Perea, while even in these regions He was ever so involved in fresh conflicts with the excited pharisaic spirit, as to be continually obliged to change His place of sojourn by flight; now appearing in a district, and again as quickly disappearing from it. This period lasts till the time of His journey to His last Passover, when, with the knowledge that the crisis is now at hand, He appeared freely in public, surrendering Himself both to the homage of the people, and to His own trial. Having made these remarks, we may now proceed to define the separate periods of Christ’s life. notes 1. Even the difference which is felt to exist between the teaching of Jesus in John and the synoptists, may be explained by the reasons given above for the difference of their selection of facts. When Jesus delivered those discourses to the multitudes, which the synoptists so delight to relate, parables and apophthegms were quite in place. When, on the contrary, He entered into those discussions with His adversaries, the chief points of which are given by John, this form of instruction was but partially applicable. A second explanation lies in the fact, that the three first Evangelists had, for the most part, anticipated the fourth in delivering this most comprehensible kind of instruction, namely, the parabolic and sententious; and that it also was part of the peculiarity of John, from the first, to appropriate the symbolic and speculative elements of Christ’s teaching. We may finally remark, that in John, as well as in the synoptists, the direct didactic form is not wanting in the parabolic discourses. Comp. Tholuck, die Glaubwürdigkeit der evang. Geschichte, p. 312, &c. 2. It by no means follows from the circumstance, that the several synoptical Evangelists do not relate the events of the Gospel history in direct chronological sequence, that they pay no regard to the great leading chronological features. Nay, even in those very groupings of the several occurrences which depend upon actual or traditional motives, they undoubtedly form single groups according to chronological sequence. Ebrard distinguishes in this respect p. 65, &c.) between ‘chains’ and ‘syndesms.’ By the former he understands a series of consecutive, interdependent events; by the latter, a definite concatenation of such chains. 3. Weisse expresses (Ev. Gesch. i. 292) the opinion, that we need for the public teaching of Christ, ‘a period of not too small a series of years.’ In this view he opposes the authority of the fourth Evangelist, and appeals to the authority of Irenæus, who, ‘makes the most celebrated events in the life of Jesus take place between His fortieth and fiftieth years.’ Irenæus, however, specially supported this statement by the passage, John 8:57, in which the Jews remark to Jesus, ‘Thou art not yet fifty years old.’ According then to this author, we are to attach more credit to the fourth Gospel through the intervention of Irenæus, i.e., to an arbitrary interpretation of it by Irenæus, than to the same fourth Gospel itself, in its direct chronological statements. With respect also to the locality of Christ’s ministry, Weisse sets himself in direct opposition to the fourth Gospel, ‘which relates repeated visits to the festivals at Jerusalem’ (p. 293). The custom of journeying to the feasts is said to have no longer been so general in the days of Christ, as in the early and simpler times of the Jewish nation (p. 306). ‘So slavish a subjection to the ceremonial law as must be assumed to necessitate these journeys to the feasts,’ it is further said, ‘is opposed to all church-doctrinal views of the dignity of the Messiah.’ Jesus is therefore said to have ‘probably laboured many years’ in Galilee, without frequenting any feasts, and then perhaps at length influenced by the perception that His miraculous power was declining (p. 431), to have seized the resolution, and uttered the great saying, that He must go up to Jerusalem to be delivered up to His. enemies, to be ill-used and put to death by them. This hypothesis gives a monstrous representation of the personality and agency of Jesus. Only imagine a prophet of Israel absenting himself for years from the great feasts of his nation, and yet maintaining his prophetic credit in the eyes of the people journeying to the feasts; a Saviour remaining in isolated Galilee, while the people were thronging to Jerusalem; a reformer of the theocracy entering the external centre of this theocracy only at the end of his course, and to die! Not only would the religious, but even the moral feeling of the people of Galilee have rejected Him; for visits to the feasts were in their eyes not only a religious, but a civil duty, a sacred national custom.1 According to this hypothesis, Christ’s journey to Jerusalem to die there, was but an act of fanatical caprice. The assumption that Christ must have considered these visits to the festivals a slavish subjection to the ceremonial law, deserves no discussion. Besides, the critic is not only in opposition to St John, but also to the synoptists (comp. Matthew 23:37; Matthew 27:58.)2 4. The Gospel of St John clears up the chronological obscurities of the three first Gospels. After the miracle which Jesus performed on the Sabbath, according to John 5:1-47, the Jewish party at Jerusalem began to persecute Him. The retirement which the Lord from this time observed, for the sake of obtaining time sufficient for the completion of His ministry, was probably the cause of His attending the next Passover in private, and unattended by His disciples (John 6:4), but not of His avoiding it. One consequence of this was, that this chronological period, as well as the first Passover, escaped most of His disciples, because they were then not yet among his followers.3 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 52: 02.043. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the periods of christ’s life A delineation of the facts of Christ’s life owes it to that great and world-famed subject whereof it treats, that it should view it not only in its internal, but also in its external connection, and therefore according to the causes and effects by which it is linked with the world’s history, and forms its central point. In the present work, indeed, the actual delineation of the life of Jesus forms only the middle division of a more comprehensive treatment of the subject, according to the plan of which, the general causes and effects of Christ’s life in the world’s history had to be discussed in the first division. The more immediate relations, however, by which this life was connected with the history of mankind, must be brought forward together with the facts of His life. The history of this life will therefore commence with a description of that period of universal history during which Christ laboured; we must see the scene upon which He lived and worked. At the close of this life, too, we must obtain a general view of His agency and influence upon mankind. These two examinations, as prologue and epilogue, together with our delineation of the life of Jesus, will form a whole, which would thus cause this Second Book to consist of three parts, besides the Introduction. The several periods, however, of the life itself are of such importance, that they must be treated as chief divisions or ‘parts’ of the whole book, if its contents are to be developed in just and regular proportions. The First Part, then, will present the historical sphere of Christ’s life, and describe the relations of time and place by which He was surrounded. The several periods of His life will follow: the history of His childhood; the preparations for his public appearance in Israel; the time of His free agency amidst the enthusiastic welcome of His countrymen; the conflicts between Christ and the corrupt national spirit of the Jews, causing the Lord to observe a holy retirement; the last decided surrender of Christ to the enthusiasm of His people; the treachery of His people, which brought about His condemnation at the world’s bar, and His death upon the cross; and finally, the manifestation of His glory in His resurrection and ascension. Thus the periods of Christ’s life form our next seven parts. The ninth and last will conclude the work with a retrospect of His life; depicting, first, His whole manifestation to, and influence upon mankind; and finally, the enduring effect of His life.1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 53: 02.044. PART I ======================================================================== PART I The historical sphere of christ’s life ======================================================================== CHAPTER 54: 02.045. SECTION I ======================================================================== Section I the relations of time and place among which christ appeared It was as a prophet of Israel that Christ entered upon His public ministry; His abode was in an inconsiderable district of the Jewish land; His age was coincident with about the middle of that of the first Roman emperors. With respect to the ordinary view of the circumstances of the world, He lived, as far as locality is concerned, in a corner of the world, and, as far as time is concerned, in the midst of a great period. With respect, however, to the proper and actual view of the circumstances of the world, His appearance constituted the fulness of time. The pre-christian development of mankind came to a close with Him; the æon of the ancient times was ended. The maturity of the ancient times was manifested by great points of union in its several tendencies, and altogether became, by the strictest inward relations, one great unity, in which the significance of the time was concentrated. In the life of Jesus, all the powers of the world concurred to bring about the catastrophe which was at once the world’s condemnation and deliverance. In Christ Himself was perfected the development of the true lineage of humanity, of the sacred commerce between heaven and earth, or of the christological life. Heavenly humanity appeared in the Son of man in its concentration, in its personal unity, filled with the quickening Spirit, and in this divine fulness, mighty to save. Thus did Christ appear as the honour and climax of human nature, its positive unity and holiness. But the appearance of this positive unity was met by its negative; viz., by the fact that humanity, as a whole, had now come to a state of mature receptivity. Humanity had now become a world (οἰκουμένη) both needing, and capable of, redemption; a world united in government, civilization, and language; in preparedness for the manifestation of God in the flesh; in religious knowledge and expectation; by the exigencies of ruin, by despair, by yearning and desire, had the gates been widened, and the world’s door thrown open for the King of glory to come in. The earthly glory of Judaism had decayed, and its best instruments were therefore capable of understanding and accepting the Messiah of a spiritual world, the King of the kingdom of truth. The heathen world, on the contrary, was, through some of its noblest sons, the proselytes of the gate and of righteousness, everywhere acquainted with the actual historical Monotheism of the synagogue,1 which must be well distinguished from heathen abstract Monotheism-a Monotheism merely philosophical in its tenets, and cowardly in its utterances-and had reached just that frame of mind in which only the highest, the ultimate word of this Monotheism, the Gospel, was wanting. This unity, which we, according to the analogy of polar relations, designate negative, corresponded with the positive unity: the fulness of life, and the life to be filled, the positive and negative pleroma (John 1:16; Ephesians 1:23), were mutually present; hence the fulness of the time was come, the beginning of the marriage festival, in which the union of the Lord with His Church is to take place. The incarnation of the Son of God and the glorification of humanity did not, however, take place among a sinless generation, but in a world fallen and degenerate. Hence this manifestation could only be effected under the grave form of redemption, the redemption only under the terrible form of a sentence of death. The concentration of light was encountered by the concentration of darkness; and as, on the one side, the Holy One of Israel united with the world’s receptivity, so, on the other side, did the corrupt external pietism of Israel, which ripened into obduracy in presence of the actual holiness of Christ, unite with the corruption of the heathen world, which had now attained its climax, in the resolution to reject Him, and therefore in the guilt by which the unbelieving world condemned itself. It was not till this sentence was passed, that Christ could be perfected as the Redeemer of such a world (Hebrews 2:10), or the world become capable of receiving such a Redeemer (Galatians 6:14). The corruption of the spurious, externalized piety among that chosen nation, whose external aspect had symbolically represented, and whose inmost nature had actually represented, the positive pole of the manifestation, appears in the fact, that in the greater number of its members, the pretension to external holiness was most decidedly prominent where there was most lack of it internally. But the spuriousness of this pretension, and the completeness of the corruption therein manifested, were displayed in the three forms it assumed, which, as separate parties, were utterly at variance with each other. The most respected and dominant sect was that of the Pharisees, the casuistic and trifling interpreters of the law; their holiness consisted chiefly in that rank over-growth of precepts and observances with which they stifled and corrupted revelation. They were strangers to the spiritual character of Old Testament Christology; the increase of forms and observances was to them in the place of the increase of life; while the reform or criticism of their traditions was an abomination to them. But while the Pharisees designated the whole mass of legal tradition in Israel as sacred, the Sadducees left to the Old Testament development of revelation only its first beginnings; their holiness consisted in converting the Mosaic law into a final, deistic, moral law, and boasted of righteousness in an observance of this mutilation of it. Thus they misconceived the development of the theocratic seed exhibited in the prophets, and deadened the germinating power and vitality of the Mosaic law itself by their view of it; their standpoint being the miserable one of an abstract negation. Besides these corruptions, which may be distinguished, the one as an adding to, the other as a taking from revelation, there was but a third possible, namely, its alteration. This was represented in the system of the Essenes, who sought their holiness in separating the spiritual elements of the theocracy from their true connection, and exhibiting them mingled with heathen notions, in an unreal, highly incorporeal, and devoted life. In their abhorrence of the concrete, they sacrificed all that was corporeal and social in revelation to a spiritualistic separatism, which is always skilful in exhibiting isolated breathings and ideas of the divine life in special dedications and exercises, but can never attain to the dedication of the whole actual life, because it is its property to contemn the universality of revelation in the popular Church of God. The first of these sects ruled, according to their own peculiar notions, over the superstition of the nation, and its external worship; the second, as a cowardly element of scepticism, manifested both in the opinions and by the reserve of the upper classes, pervaded the theocratic government with dismal effect; the third lived in voluntary excommunication, which it sought to palliate by a pacifying demeanour towards the sacred rites of the people. It is quite in accordance with the character of these sects, that the Pharisees should especially urge on the crucifixion of Christ, that the Sadducees should seek to suppress the announcement of His resurrection; while the Essenes kept as far aloof from the scene and events of Christ’s life as if they had not existed, on which account they are never met with as active agents in the Gospel narrative. The corrupt pietism of Israel was quite prepared, under these three forms, to misconceive the true glory of Israel, the Messiah, and either to reject Him or expose Him to the heathen, nay, to deliver Him up to the jurisdiction of the heathen world. The maturity of heathen corruption is evidenced by the fact, that the Romish power was capable, at the instance of Jewish fanaticism, of perpetrating, under the forms of their proud and perfected administration of justice, that great ‘judicial murder’ against the person of Christ. Pilate, the powerful representative of the Roman Emperor and of the civilization of his universal dominion, suffers himself to bend, to crack, to break, in his threefold capacity of ruler, judge, and philosopher, before the storm of Jewish fanaticism. The power of the Roman eagle becomes subservient to the fury of a conquered and hated people; the venerable and exalted Roman Forum passes sentence of death upon acknowledged innocence; the aristocratic and ironical philosopher, who penetrates the motives of Christ’s enemies, and smiles at His doctrine as an inoffensive and harmless enthusiasm, lowers himself through fear of the people into the executioner of fanaticism. Pilate, however, does not thus stand before us merely as an individual, he represents the secular spirit of his times; and his soldiers, by their active co-operation in the crucifixion, express the savage temper of those legions which conquered and governed the world. Thus an alliance of hierarchy, despotism, and revolution, the latter being represented by the Jewish people, together with an alliance of superstition and unbelief in the Pharisees and Sadducees, took place at the crucifixion of Christ, in which the union of the world in its enmity against Christ, was announced in a world-famed and decisive incident. As however that world of light which is opposed to this world of darkness, manifests its life in its contrasted positive and negative poles, so do we perceive in this alliance also, the contrast of positive Jewish hatred, and negative heathen irresolution, through whose union that condemnation of Christ, which condemned the whole world, took place. Since, however, in Christ perfect love exists in presence of the world’s complete banded hatred, a struggle necessarily ensues, in which love is outwardly subdued, but inwardly victorious. The world is condemned while it is saved; its entire ruin is evidenced in the fact it accomplishes; it rejects its own honour, its glory, by rejecting Christ. Thus it is outdone and convicted by the justice of God; it loses its right to live and to boast of eternal righteousness. But the same world is saved while it is condemned; this its extremity of guilt renders its need of salvation complete, and its salvation is perfected by the victory of love in its innocent faithful Head and Saviour. The victory of Christ’s love over the world’s enmity is the victory of God’s grace over the curse. Thus did Christ enter the midst of the world and of time, and lay the foundation of a new æon surpassing the old time, or rather He founded this new æon upon the old time. The reception of His Gospel is the beginning of eternal (æonian) life, its rejection the beginning of eternal misery. Hence the forces which concurred in bringing about the holy catastrophe of the Gospel are continually reappearing in the great constellations of the world’s history; the same forms, the same contrasts, in ever-increasing approaches to universality and maturity, till at length the perfect universality of the last struggle between light and darkness, cannot but introduce the end of the world’s career. notes 1. The Cross of Christ symbolically denotes the central point of this world and of time, towards which all the contrasts of the world converge, to terminate the ancient forms of their agency and to develop themselves again under new ones. The world confronts the one Christ as a concentrated unity; the Jews and the Romans, the representatives of all religious and secular culture, all ranks and conditions, hierarchy, monarchy, democracy, were united in the coalition which perpetrated the crucifixion, as well as all human sins, all the bad passions of mankind, and all unclean spirits. This contrast-Christ in the power of light, the world under the power of darkness-expresses indeed the mightiest struggle, the most decided dualism. The true unity, however, which this incident produced, is that of the providential government of God and the heart of Christ,-the providential government of God, which, by the doom of crucifixion, brought to perfection, in the very heat of the battle, the redeeming work of Christ, and the need of redemption on the part of man; the heart of Christ, in which love, as infinite love to the world, endured with infinite compassion the world’s condemnation, and as infinite love to the Father, welcomed and grasped in this sentence both deliverance and reconciliation. But out of this unity arises a new contrast; the Crucified One, who gives Himself to the believing world as its Saviour, is to the unbelieving world a sign of condemnation. In this great event are seen all the great powers of the world in their most powerful state of excitement. Israel is divided into the crucifying people, and the crucified Lord. Israel delivers Christ to the heathen. The whole world crucifies Him; hence it appears as a world subdued by Heathenism. The true Israel, in its concentration and perfection in Christ alone, opposes it; for the Jews who crucified Him were then, in a theocratic sense, heathens and nothing else; nay, the last and worst among the heathen, since they had thus cast away their Israelite glory. The heathen, however, were no longer mere heathen, after Christ had been delivered up, and had delivered Himself up, to them by the surrender of love. The receptive among them now formed a unity together with the receptive of Israel; nay, it was they who formed the majority of these receptive ones, and consequently formed also, by their reception of Christ, the people of His possession. Thus the parts played by Israel and the Gentiles in the world’s history were changed; the poles changed places with each other under the influence of the great storm-the first became last. This effect of the Cross expresses, on one side, the infinitely delicate interworking of all relations in the history of the world, and between heaven and earth; on the other, the infinite intelligence of the overruling divine mind amidst the interworking of all these relations. 2. It is a defective view of the Jewish sects, to describe the Pharisees alone as the self-righteous among them, since they rather did but exhibit one special kind of self-righteousness, viz., the casuistic, while the Sadducees were guilty of rationalistic, and the Essenes of spiritualistic, ascetic self-righteousness. In this respect the names of the several sects are significant. The name of the Pharisees, ôÌÀøåÌùÑÄéï, derived by Suidas from ôÌÈøÇùÑ in the sense of separate, to distinguish, so that the Pharisees represent those who were distinguished from the other Jews by their holiness-set apart, pious ones (see Winer, . W. B. ii. 290). But the title would, in this sense, be far more applicable to the Essenes than to the Pharisees, who lived specially among the people. If, however, we consider the general meaning of Pharisaism, we find that it exhibits exactly that bitter separatism in which corrupt Judaism appeared in the presence of Heathenism, and in its separation therefrom. Thus the Pharisees were, with respect to the heathen, those complete separatists which the Jews in general are said to have been, according to the assumption of rationalism, but which, as merely Israelites, they certainly were not. ‘This tendency,’ says Winer, ‘was probably first impressed upon them after the restoration of the Jewish commonwealth in Palestine (in the time of Ezra), and is properly the characteristic of exclusive Judaism, as distinguished from Hebraism. This disposition very naturally evoked another, viz., Sadduceeism. But certainly neither formed sects, properly so called, in an ecclesiastical or political sense, before the period of the native Jewish princes (the Maccabees). The effect of this pharisaic effort in presence of the heathen world was manifest, not only in the behaviour observed toward the heathen themselves, but also toward those who seemed to be infected by their blood and spirit, toward Samaritans and publicans. (Comp. Josephus, . xvii. 2, 4 and xviii. 1.) It may be questioned whether the word Pharisee may not be referred to act. Part. ôÌåÉøÅùÑ, as others have conceived; the word ôÌÈøÇùÑ meaning actual separation, strict severance, subtle distinction. This expresses the relation in which the Pharisees stood to the law: they explained it as discriminating casuists, developing their precepts and observances from it. In any case, the Pharisees were self-righteous, or, to define them more clearly, observers of traditions and rites. The Sadducees also made pretensions to legal righteousness. Epiphanius (æres. i. 14) derives their name from the fact that they thus named themselves from a notion of possessing a righteousness corresponding to their view of the law (the law in its mutilation). If, however, the word cannot be directly derived from öÇãÌÄéº (righteous), but must first be referred to a proprium, öÇãÌåɺ,1 yet the relation between this noun and the adjective öÇãÌÄé is unmistakeable, and must have been significant to a sect which boasted of fulfilling a pure and sharply defined law. The Sadducees, then, were self-righteous in the sense of obedience to a revealed duty-rationalists seeking righteousness in duty. The Essenes, finally, sought to be righteous in the sense of entire severance from the common and profane, in virtue of strict devotedness, renunciation, and religious exercises, nay, even of inward devotedness. This pretension is evidenced in their whole mode of life, and expressed by their name, which is a mutilation of çÂñÄãÄéí (ὅσιοι), the pious, the holy, and at all events denotes an internal as well as an external piety. Even this common characteristic of pretensions to holiness, expresses the alienation of these tendencies from Christianity. With respect to the Old Testament, however, they represent three separate kinds of corruption. The principle of outward piety which animates Pharisaism, poisons religion, and forces it into a wild and rank luxuriance of precepts and observances. The principle of doubt which governs Sadduceeism, not only cuts off prophecy, that noble plant of the theocracy, as a weed, but even kills its roots. The Thorah is to this school only a literal codex; hence it denies that the doctrine of the resurrection is contained therein, just as unspiritual rationalism is unable to discover it in the entire Old Testament. Thus Sadduceeism properly represents a belief in a mutilated revelation; while Essenism, on the other hand, represents an actual alteration of revelation. The relations of rank among its members are opposed to the institution of the Church of God; the legal celibacy of the majority, to the Old Testament consecration of marriage; aversion to anointing with oil, and avoidance of participation in the temple sacrifices (comp. Neander’s Life of Jesus Christ, p. 40, note), denote a spiritualism which had overstepped connection with the theocracy (Joseph. Bell. Jud. ii. 8; Philo, quod probus liber). When the youthful education of Christ was formerly attributed to the Essenes, this was a proof that the true relation of this sect to the economy of the kingdom of God was not yet understood. Its morbid spiritualism points to dualistic assumptions, to heathen Gnostic elements, especially expressed in its view that the body is the prison of the soul (Joseph. Bell. Jud. ii. 8, 11). Consequently the relations of this tendency explain the fact, that it was idealized by Philo. Even the views of the three parties, respecting the relations between God and man, were one and all unchristological; all that happened being attributed by the Essenes to fate, by the Sadducees to human freedom, by the Pharisees partly to fate, partly to human freedom (Josephus, Antiq. xiii. 5, 9, and Bell. Jud. ii. 8, 14). That elements existed in each of these tendencies,-namely, piety in Pharisaism, a struggle for spiritual freedom in Sadduceeism, and the cultivation of the inner life in Essenism,-which in noble minds might lead to an alliance with Christianity, is not denied by what we have advanced.1 3. When Christ was born, Judea, though dependent upon Rome, had still a king of its own (Herod). When He was crucified, it had already been for some time under the government of the Romans, after the proscription of the ethnarch Archelaus, Pontius Pilate being the sixth governor who ruled over the country. According to ancient theocratic privileges, this subjection would have been but a temporary visitation. The delivering up, however, of Christ to the Gentiles extinguished the ancient theocratic rights of the nation. When the return of Israel to the faith, and their national restoration, are announced in our days, such an event is quite in conformity with the prophetic promise; but when the reinstatement of the nation in its ancient privileges in the kingdom of God is promised, this is entirely opposed, not only to the priesthood of the universal Church of Christ over all nations, but also to the fact that the hereditary theocratic rights of Israel were forfeited by the crucifixion of Christ. 4. On the notion of the æon, compare the work, Unsere Unsterblichkeit, und der Weg zu derselben, Kempten, Dannheimer 1836, p. 12. ‘Æon or eternity is not that which has no end and no beginning. Æon is nature returning in its vital movement from hidden beginnings to developments also hidden.’-‘Æon is the inward period of development of things, the inward time of things.’ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 55: 02.046. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the scene of christ’s life, the promised land It was not till His crucifixion that Jesus was released from the obligation by which, as the most loyal Israelite, He felt His personal ministry confined to His own people (John 10:16; John 12:32; Matthew 15:24), though that spiritual fulness and inward freedom with which He lived within the prescribed limits of Israel, made His life a ministry supremely adapted to the wants of the whole world (Matthew 13:31; John 12:23-24). Hence the great, the essential, and therefore the eternal King of the whole human race, completed His course and His work within the narrow boundaries of the promised land, the Israelite Canaan. As the nation of Israel may, according to the compass of its powers and deficiencies, its light and dark sides, be regarded as a concentrated representation of the human race, so may the promised land be designated a symbolical miniature of the whole earth. It represents the essential peculiarities of the earth in the smallest space, and within the smallest frame; hence it has become the beloved, the ‘precious’ land, the land that speaks to man’s heart, the land by which man has learnt to appreciate the beauty of the whole earth. Hence, also, is it that the Jew, in his exile, finds that the whole earth is his home; while, at the same time, he never feels himself at home anywhere. A grave in the much-longed-for promised land is the object of his utmost desire. Canaan unites within itself a rich variety of most significant contrasts, by the blending of which is formed that unity, the chosen land, which was destined to be the place of education for the chosen people. As little as Israel, with its theocratic and divine blessings, was destined to isolate itself, with respect to other nations, by a bitter and pharisaic pietism, so little was Canaan shut up from the world. It lay midway between the most polished nations of Asia, Africa, and Europe; landwards, it was either bounded or traversed by the most famous caravan roads; seawards, it was in the neighbourhood of the most frequented sea-passages, and the most noted navigators. Surrounded by numerous nations, in the neighbourhood of the world-blessing Phœnicians, of the world-conquering Assyrians, and of the world-frequented Egyptians; exposed to being involved in all the great catastrophes of the heathen world; the land could not but experience every pulsation of the world’s life, nor could its people fail to retain the feeling of the effort in which its destination for the world, the consciousness that its theocratic blessing was destined for the world, was to ripen. Its very position would continually give Israel occasion to appreciate and maintain the power of its faith contrasted with the secular power of Babylon-the light of its Monotheism contrasted with the learning of Egypt-its quiet, happy, festal life contrasted with the splendour of Phœnicia, nay, its own inward worth, its own reality carried to appearance, contrasted with the plastic ‘appearance carried to reality’ of the Grecian world.1 But as Canaan lay, on the one hand, in the neighbourhood of all the powers of the world, so was it, on the other hand, isolated by the peculiarities of its position; and fulfilled thereby its destination to become a retreat for Israel’s youthful consciousness, which could only attain its maturity of monotheistic development through the sharp thorns and goads which its attitude of variance towards other nations produced. That measure of divinely ordained, temporary, universal pietism, protected by which Israelitish knowledge of God was to come to maturity, found its corresponding limit in the geographical enclosure of the land: the Lebanon, the Syrian wilderness, the desert boundaries towards Egypt, the neighbourhood of the ever-jealous Philistines,-all these limits were a help to the weakness of a people ever alternating between the extremes of a boundless wooing and an equal hatred of the world, while its duty was both to preserve the noble seed of the world’s true freedom, and to cherish the most ardent love for the world.2 Even the very conformation of the earth on which lay the sacred localities, seemed to share in the destiny of the country. It was such that the country could everywhere be easily fortified. Jerusalem is almost a natural fortification; the coast is protected by noble heights, Gerizim and Tabor seem raised like citadels; even in the lesser features and details in the formation of this glorious land, adaptability to purposes of fortification, and fitness to become the abode of a sacred spirit of kindliness, is everywhere manifested.1 From Lebanon downwards towards Egypt the chalk formation is continued in a series of hills and mountains, which offer rude clefts and mountain fastnesses for the retreat of an oppressed people2 (Judges 6:2), and especially for persecuted prophets (1 Kings 18:4) and royal fugitives (1 Samuel 22:1-23), among which the caves upon Carmel, particularly that attributed to Elijah, as well as David’s cave at Adullam, are specially celebrated. Besides this series of white rocks, a vein of black basalt runs through the eastern borders of the country, and indicates the subterranean fire which formed the region, and probably played its part in the earlier theocratic and miraculous history of the people.3 From north to south, and from east to west, the greatest variety is met with in the conformation of the country. From the tract of coast in the west we ascend to the hill country, with its terrace-like formations, divided into two parts by the deep valley of the Jordan, the eastern hills being bounded by the great desert. From north to south chains of hills run through the country on either side of the Jordan, as if they would bury it in more sacred and silent solitude,4 and crown the solitary inheritance of ‘the silent one’ with heights and peaks, between whose openings are obtained, in some parts, views of the sea, but generally of the distant country. How rich is this country in glorious and charming prospects from hill to hill-southwards from the hills of Naphtali to the hills of Ephraim, and from these to the hills of Judah, but especially between the heights of the eastern and western sides of Jordan! There are regions which address the human spirit, so to speak, in the major tone, e.g., extensive plains of mountain scenery. Others speak in a minor key to the mind. Germany is rich in minor tones. Canaan, however, seems to have a great variety of transitions from one to the other, and yet to possess a strongly marked unity of character. In its eastern highlands it exhibits the Asiatic characteristic of monotonous vastness; in its western formation of hills and valleys are seen touches of its affinity to Europe;1 towards the south are reflected Egypt and Africa, in the glaring contrasts it presents of both paradisaic and terrible scenes; towards the north the mountainous district of Lebanon forms the boundary of the land. The white peak of Hermon, seen far through the country, represents the regions of eternal winter; while in the low-lying tracts of the valley of Jordan the palm, the pride of tropical regions, revels in the hot climate of Arabia. How extensive is the scale of climatal contrasts in this land!2 And what a happy medium exists in those warm boundaries of the temperate zone, in which it is easiest to man to maintain the due proportion between labour and rest, in which, in the pleasant contrast of their alternation, both light and darkness could be called gifts of God, and looked upon as welcome blessings!3 With the pleasant occupations of rural life between seed-time and harvest, was intermixed the romantic feature of nomade life, and the anchorite’s freedom from care for supplies was experienced within the sphere of pastoral life; while the domestic comforts of Western life were here met with, on the very boundaries of the desert, and of the torrid zone. The Israelite could often pass both night and day in the open air, but not without experiencing the excitement which man always feels in the romantic wildernesses of the earth. He was surrounded by the kindly sights and sounds of nature;4 but the sublime was everywhere the predominating element. His country was rich in enjoyments, but exposed to the vicissitudes of great natural catastrophes. The sharp contrast between oasis and desert, between the soil of the aromatic and variegated palm, and the naked, burning, sandy rock of Arabia, is found here; e.g., in the contrasts between the frightful rocky wilderness of Quarantania and the blooming gardens of Jericho,5 and especially between the fertile borders of the Lake of Galilee and the desert shores of the Dead Sea.6 These contrasts point to the delicate and spiritual nature of the country, to its delicate suspension on the line between the blessing and the curse (Deuteronomy 11:28). Canaan was from the first a country infinitely susceptible of changes of condition, like the people, with which it was to form a sanctuary for God. It lies midway between those great natural extremes, in which the earth seems almost to overpower man, as, e.g., in the heat and luxuriance of the East Indies, and in the frozen deserts of Greenland. Regions of this kind have either a paralyzing or an intoxicating effect upon sinful man, favouring in either case the dreams of sensual life. Canaan, on the contrary, shares the lot of its inhabitants, as if it sympathized in it, as the harp does with the feelings of its player. The reason lies in the changeable and delicate tone of the climate and soil. Both are in the highest degree influenced by vegetation. Vegetation, however, in Canaan presupposes a peaceful, numerous, industrious, and pious people. What is more or less true of the earth in general, is especially so of Canaan-that the country deteriorates and improves with the people1 (Isaiah 13:11, &c., Isaiah 24:1-23, Isaiah 30:23, and other passages). This country could be changed into a garden, and it was a garden at its best times. The hills of terrace-like form were often changed into terraces. On these happy hills the joy of harvest was ever resounding; on these pastures the shepherd was ever rejoicing. But when Israel forsook God, they became the prey of the nations whose gods they worshipped. The good land was trodden down, and became a road for the enemy, disgraced, stripped of its foliage, and converted into a sun-burnt stony field, neglected, and in its desolation often overgrown with thorns. The varying soil of the human heart, the bad reception given by many to the seed of the divine word, was reflected in the desolation of the land (Matthew 13:3). The Old Testament must be read to perceive how easily the country influenced its people, how well the people understood their country. This land is related to the highest problems and destinies of humanity; there is a constant interaction between the countenance of man and the face of the country. This theocratic and poetic consecration of the wells and springs, of the caves and hills of gleams of the blessing, the shadows of the curse, which are interwoven into the whole country, but especially the perpetual fragrance of that christological consecration which hovers over the summits of the hills surrounding the Sea of Galilee, and of the Mount of Olives,-every part of the Holy Land is an enduring testimony to the fact, that in Israel human nature was awakened and developed, in interaction with the promised land, to that state of mind which understands the ideal nature of the earth, its deep harmony with mankind. Canaan received its highest consecration from the journeyings of Christ. As the loyal Israelite, dwelling first at Nazareth and then at Capernaum, Christ had to make the customary journeys to the sacred feasts at Jerusalem: As their Rabbi, He shared in the movements of His disciples; as His Father’s messenger, He followed the call of need, the track of recipiency, the paths of the poor, the ways of the sheep that had no shepherd, the movements of inimical and repelling antipathies and of sympathizing agencies;-alternately yielding to the want felt by His exalted nature for silent communion with His Father, and to the desire and duty of appearing in the theocratic centre of His nation. Thus out of the narrowly restricted path of His Israelitish pilgrimage, was formed the far-reaching, much-embracing path of His journeyings. He went about doing good. He transformed the rugged path of constant temple-service into a happy pilgrimage of free and rejoicing love. His time was spent between worship in the great temple of creation, in which He was alone with His Father, especially upon the heights on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and worship in the symbolic temple of His nation. In this journeying life He exhibited the union existing between an unfettered wandering life, passed amidst the scenes of nature and the absence of artificial wants, and the restricted life of that high degree of civilization which floats before the mind of Christian man as his exalted destiny. He revealed the rich inheritance of the believer who has not where to lay his head, but who, whether on the stormy midnight wave, or the burning noon-day journey, can with Him, and through Him, rest on the bosom of the Father, walk in the happy ways of His eternal Spirit, and find His meat and drink in the fulfilment of His will. By His birth, the cheerful pasture-fields of Bethlehem became fields of light, ever basking in the sun of joy. The town of Nazareth is ever the symbol of those obscure corners of the earth, in which many of the kings and princes of the spiritual kingdom, destined to prepare the way of the great Nazarene, have grown up in concealment. The lonely neighbourhood of Nazareth has deep and solitary valleys, covered with the most luxuriant vegetation, and silent retired paths, with rugged, snow-white, rocky walls; holy places, once trodden by the Saviour’s feet, and consecrated by His prayers.’1 Christ left Nazareth at the commencement of His public ministry. ‘A prophet hath no honour in his native town.’ The flame of the truly divine life could indeed be extinguished nowhere, but it would not choose the oppressive atmosphere of antipathy and indifference. Christ settled at Capernaum. This wealthy city, inhabited by publicans, soldiers, and travellers, was the most cosmopolitan dwelling He could have chosen within the limits of Israel’s claims upon Him; the centre of that caravan road of Galilee of the Gentiles, through which flowed the traffic between East and West, between Syria and Phœnicia. So near did the large-heartedness of that loving Prince of the whole race lead Him to the door through which He might already send out His welcome to all the world; while, on the other hand, He sought and found amidst the population of the Sea of Galilee, the most genuine Israelites, the most pious and most liberal among the most unprejudiced. It was at Capernaum and other places on the Lake of Gennesareth that He specially displayed His glory; but they only plunged into deeper darkness, and turned the blessing into a curse.1 What celestial brightness attends those memories of Jesus which hover over the Sea of Galilee! It was on these declivities,2 as also in the miracle of Cana,3 that those ante-pasts of the Lord’s Supper took place, in the miraculous feedings of the multitude, in which Christ, for the moment, raised whole multitudes to a heavenly frame of mind. On the farther side of the lake, He enlightened the darkness of the country of the Gergesenes by His presence; on the nearer, He manifested, by the most touching miracles of mercy, the advent of the kingdom of God. It was from one of these mountains that the sermon which represents the way of salvation as a progressive series of blessings,4 resounded throughout the world. Upon a mountain Christ manifested Himself to His most confidential disciples, in the brightness of His essential glory.5 It was from silent mountains that He often looked with secret grief, but also with the saving pity of a divinely ordained Redeemer, upon deluded Israel, whom He saw as exiled and cast out from their inheritance, and upon His pleasant land, and His unhappy people. With what emotion of heart did He sit upon the Mount of Olives, and behold in spirit the destruction of the temple and the ruin of the nation! He foresaw that His own fate must be met at Jerusalem, yet He wept over the city! He died before her gates, without the camp of the legal Church, outlawed and proscribed, upon the accursed tree. On the Mount of Olives, near to each other, are the two places where the Christian consecration of the earth, its glorification by the deepest woe and the highest ecstasy, took place-Gethsemane and the mountain of the Ascension. The breath of sorrow issuing from Gethsemane hallows the earth as a dark valley of holy suffering, of the terrors of judgment; the spirit of peace and victory issuing from Mount Olivet, makes the whole earth one bright hill of victory, the victory of Christ reaching to heaven. And finally, Golgotha, together with the holy sepulchre, represents the union of these two points, the place of the curse become the place of honour, the region at once of most terrible defeat and most glorious victory, the curse converted into a blessing, the old sad earth into a new and rejoicing world. As we have no certainty of the locality of Paradise, so neither have we of that of Golgotha; the mysterious place has communicated it sacredness to the whole world. notes 1. The relation between the life of man and the life of nature, is seldom seen in that purely spiritual light expressed in the sacred Scriptures. Man is often represented as the product of the region in which he is found; the influences which he receives therefrom being looked upon as his fate. Or nature is made to hold on her way, independently of the way of error and confusion, or of the heavenly way of man. Then, for a change, the opposite extreme is rushed into, and man is made the unconscious creator and conscious arranger and former of nature. By the first notion, man is made the child, by the latter the father, of nature. The distinction between the Father and the Son is misconceived, when man, who can only fulfil his destination as an instrument of the Son, is made a being equal to the Father. The Pantheist makes pretensions to being the first person in the Godhead. But the relation between individual man and the Son is also misconceived, when the former is made the product of his exterior world. Holy Scripture rightly makes man appear in his union with surrounding nature; it perceives in nature the sphere of man, dependent upon his mind and inclination. The earth stands, falls, and is renewed with Man 1:12. Schubert writes of the shores of the Dead Sea (Reise in das Morgenland, vol. iii. 85): ‘The shores of the sea are rich in beauty of outline, as sublime as I have anywhere witnessed, and by no means more desolate than those coast regions of the Red Sea at which we touched during our journey; in some districts, especially on the eastern margin, the vegetation of the ravines reaches to the water’s edge, and forms itself into thickets, even beyond the mouths of the Jordan.’ Of the Sea of Galilee (p. 238): ‘The vegetable world about Tiberias, though robbed of almost all its former ornaments, shows that the borders of this lake, if they were but rightly made use of, are capable of becoming a natural hothouse, in which the growths of Egypt, and even of Arabia, would flourish. The date-palm, though seldom met with, flourishes with the same luxuriance as about Akaba and Alexandria.’ Further on, Schubert calls the district ‘a paradise over whose quiet lake a spirit of heavenly thoughts and memories seems to hover, while the most lovely and sublime of natural scenes is reflected in its waters.’ In a bay ‘where a warm spring falls into the sea,’ he found a ‘thicket of flowering oleander,’ whose ‘rosy glow spread abroad, like a dawn from the deep, over hills and valleys.’ Robinson (Researches in Palestine, ii. 380, &c., vol. iii. p. 499, &c.) expresses himself less favourably of the shores of the Sea of Galilee. ‘The lake presents, indeed, a beautiful sheet of limpid water, in a deep depressed basin; from which the shores rise, in general, steeply, and continuously all around, except where a ravine, or sometimes a deep wady, occasionally interrupts them. The hills are rounded and tame, with little of the picturesque in their form; they are decked by no shrubs nor forests; and even the verdure of the grass and herbage, which, at an earlier season of the year, might give them a pleasing aspect, was already gone; they were now only naked and dreary. Whoever looks here for the magnificence of the Swiss lakes, or the softer beauty of those of England and the United States, will be disappointed. My expectations had not been of that kind; yet from the romantic character of the scenery around the Dead Sea, and in other parts of Palestine, I certainly had promised myself something more striking.’ If, then, we imagine these rounded western heights of the sea-shore in the splendour of their former vegetation, we have the softest and most powerful of minor keys (compare again Schubert, p. 250; Robinson, p. 539). The eastern shore is said to rise to a greater elevation, though not into steep rocky walls and rugged forms. ‘Among the hills of the eastern shore, one is distinguished for its striking roundness of form; a plain runs at the foot of this eastern caldron-shaped hill.’-V. Schubert, p. 253. ‘On the southern part of this lake, and along its whole eastern coast, the mountain wall may be estimated as elevated 800 or 1000 feet above the water, steep, but not precipitous.’-Robinson, ii. 416.1 3. The division of Palestine into Judea, Samaria, Galilee, and Perea, which became more and more marked after the captivity, was caused as much by national as by geographical relations. Even before the captivity, Samaria presented a strong contrast to Judea, which was subsequently increased by the fact that the Samaritans represented a people composed of Jews and heathens, with modified religious tendencies, whose temple-service on Mount Gerizim was opposed to the temple-service on Moriah. Galilee also formed a contrast to Judea before the captivity (Isaiah 9:1); for here dwelt heathens scattered among Israelites, and no purely Israelitish blood was to be found. Besides, the popular mind of the Galileans was more related to the popular mind of the heathens who bordered on, or travelled through it, than was that of the Jews. Finally, Judea enjoyed the double advantage of exhibiting the sphere of the temple, properly so called, and the sphere of education. In both these respects it eclipsed Galilee. To this was afterwards added the fresh disadvantage, that it was geographically separated from Judea by the situation of Samaria. Perea, the region east of Jordan, was separated by that river from these three provinces. This district was bounded on the north and east by Batanea, Trachonitis, Auranitis, and Gaulonitis. All these districts were included by the Romans under the name of Syria. The Roman general Pompey attained possession of the country by the conquest of Jerusalem, 63 b.c. The fraternal war of the Maccabean princes, Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, in which the deep schism between Pharisees and Sadducees bore bloody fruit, had brought him into the country. He made it dependent upon Rome, and united it with Syria; it retained, however, a remnant of independence, in being governed by a prince of its own, the ethnarch Hyrcanus. His favourite, Antipater, however, became, by his own subtilty and the favour of Cæsar, procurator of the country, and left to Hyrcanus the mere shadow of authority. Herod, the son of Antipater, who was at first procurator of Galilee, by the favour of Anthony and Octavius, became, on the flight of Antigonus the Maccabee to Rome, king of Judea, b.c. 37. He governed Judea at the time of Christ’s birth with a despotism which went on increasing till the close of his life. Augustus divided his dominions among his sons: Archelaus became ethnarch of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea; Herod Antipas became tetrarch of Galilee and Perea; Philip obtained possession of the northern part of the district east of Jordan, Batanea, Trachonitis, Gaulonitis, and Panias. The district of the ten cities, or Decapolis, consisted of separate townships, under the immediate supremacy of the Romans, scattered throughout the land, and inhabited by Greeks and Syrians. All the above-named small Jewish principalities fell one after another entirely under Roman power. This was first the case with Judea and Samaria, after the deposition of Archelaus on account of his tyranny (b.c. 6). The country was then placed under the proconsul of Syria, and governed by procurators. Once more, however, it was for a short time raised to the rank of a kingdom, under the rule of Herod Agrippa. At the commencement of Christ’s public ministry, the region east of Jordan was governed by Philip, after whose death (a.d. 35) it was united to the Roman province of Syria. At this time Herod Antipas, the weak, yet cruel despot, who caused the death of John the Baptist, was still ruling over Galilee and Perea. He was banished in the year 39 to Lyons in Gaul. Herod Agrippa, however, the grandson of Herod, who was living in private life at Rome, had already obtained, through the favour of the Emperor Caligula, the former tetrarchy of Philip, and now Galilee and Perea were also bestowed upon him. To these the Emperor Claudius added also Judea and Samaria; so that the whole Jewish country once more formed a single Jewish kingdom. He died of a disease, with which he was visited at the moment of his greatest self-exaltation (a.d. 44). Palestine was now again united to the Syrian proconsulate; and from this time the country advanced, under the threefold scourge of tyrannical Roman procurators, devastating highway robbers, and fanatic factions, towards its final catastrophe in the destruction of Jerusalem (a.d. 70). The region east of Jordan received (a.d. 53) once more an Idumean prince, Herod Agrippa II., who had, at the same time, oversight of the priesthood in Judea. He possessed, besides the tetrarchy of Philip, that of Lysanias also, and bore the title of king. In the Jewish war he united himself to the Romans. 4. The Jews had not suffered the Samaritans to take part in building their second temple (Ezra 4:1). They had consequently set up their own worship on Mount Gerizim, and a mutual and ever increasing animosity had continually separated them from the Jews. Their religious development, from this time forth, could not but greatly differ in form from that of the Jews; they had nevertheless so maintained that essence of the Jewish faith, the expectation of the Messiah, that, in the time of Christ, it was current even among the most ignorant of the people (John 4:1-54) The supposition that they were of purely heathen descent (see Hengstenberg, Beiträge zur Einleitung ins A. T. vol. ii. p. 3, &c.) is certainly opposed by Christ’s conduct towards them (John 4:1-54 compared with Matthew 15:24). The reason adduced, viz., that the heathen colonists say (Ezra 4:2) to the Jews, Let us build with you, for we seek your God, as ye do, does not prove that there were no Israelite elements among them; it is quite natural that the prevailing and domineering heathen element should speak from its own consciousness. The fact that the people, in cases when the Jews were successful, appealed to their Jewish origin, and, when circumstances were altered, affirmed their Gentile descent, speaks more for their being, indeed, a mingled people than the contrary. That no Israelitish priests were found (2 Kings 17:26) among the remnant of Israelites, who gradually came forth from their concealment, and mingled with the colonists, and that the Jews at Jerusalem would not receive the Samaritans into their theocratic national union, for the sake of such a remnant, is but natural. Even in the saying, Matthew 10:5-6, the Samaritans are not comprised among the Gentiles, but placed midway between Israel and the Gentiles. The disciples, indeed, were to confine their mission to those who had the first title to it, viz., genuine Israelites. 5. In Palestine was found every possible section of Judaism. Next to the Gentiles, living in contact with Jews in the ten cities, were the Samaritans; heathens, who were both by birth and opinion judaized. Next to these were the Galilean Jews, who were more or less tinged with Heathenism. Then the obscure Jews of Perea; and lastly, the genuine Judean Jews, who dispersed themselves from Judea throughout the whole world, and who culminated in the super-Judaism of the Pharisees and the two other sects. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 56: 02.047. PART II ======================================================================== PART II THE HISTORY OF THE BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF THE LORD JESUS ======================================================================== CHAPTER 57: 02.048. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I preliminary remarks The remembrance which the Church has preserved, and the testimony she has given to the childhood of the Lord Jesus, form a series of incidents, together displaying, in artless, poetical, and sacred delineation, on one side, the full reality and historic nature; on the other, the perfect ideality, of the individual life of Jesus in its beginnings and earliest events. They form a cycle: they manifest themselves, by the most speaking facts, to belong to the Christology of the childhood of Jesus. This cycle is naturally a circle of most mysterious and tender images, exhibiting the beauties and graces, as well as the terrors of poetry, in the most absolute reality. These images only differ from many of the productions of actual poetry, by surpassing, in their strict conformity to the due proportions of ideal perfection, all that is glaring and enthusiastic in more ordinary poetry, and, at the same time, all the images of the fancy. Their reality has always had the effect of banishing from the centre of Christian doctrine, the mutilated forms of Ebionitism, which cannot believe in the full spiritual glorification of corporeity. In our days, indeed, the history of Christ’s childhood seems to have been almost abandoned to Ebionitism. The practice of removing the ideality of Christ’s life to greater and still greater distances from its commencement, has been constantly persevered in. At first, in accordance with the views of the ancient Ebionites and Socinians, it was not till His baptism that He was allowed to become the Son of God. Then, not till long after His baptism, and after having, as was supposed, first passed through the school of John the Baptist. Again another advance was made, and it was said that it was not till after His death that the image of Christ was produced, as an embellished remembrance of the actual Christ. And, further still, Paul is said to have been the inventor of mature, universal Christianity. A new station is next formed, by the opinion that the perfectly ideal, or, as it is rather thought, idealistic, view of the life of Jesus, given in the pseudo-Gospel of John, did not arise till about the end of the second century. At last, even the present times are passed by, and Christianity is first to become a truth in the times of the coming Spirit. These spouting prophets of a spirit, who is not to kindle but to extinguish the light of the Gospel history, take one step further, and expect, with the Jews, the advent of the Messiah in a new religion. There is now but another advance, the abolition of all religion. Such is the historical progress of Ebionitism. It is part of the notion of Christianity, that, as the incarnate Word, it should be perfect from its very origin. Christianity is distinctly a new principle, the principle of all improvement, and cannot itself meanwhile need improvement. It is the principle of the identity of the eternal Word and human corporeity, of real and ideal life; therefore it rejects every attempt to introduce into its origin, that incongruence between ‘the ideal and life’ which oppresses the ancient æon. It comes forth from the heart of God, as a new and miraculous life: hence a halo of miracles is formed around this central miracle; the rays of the rising sun. To whom are we indebted for the history of Christ’s childhood? It is almost unnatural to let this question take the form of a laboured investigation. Mothers are the narrators of the histories of children. It was undoubtedly Mary who was the evangelist of the youthful history of Jesus, and it is not obscurely that she is pointed out as his authority by Luke (Luke 2:19). It would be but natural that she should have preserved a written remembrance of what occurred in the house of Zachariah. The colouring, too, of a woman’s memory and a woman’s view is unmistakeable in the separate features of this history. When it is once ascribed to a female narrator, we feel that the fact, that ‘wise men from the East’ are introduced without further preface, that the taxing of Herod is designated the taxing of Cæsar Augustus, who was really at the bottom of it, and many other difficulties, are at once explained. Then also we comprehend he indescribable grace, the quiet loveliness, and sacredness, of this narrative. That Mary, who at all events survived the pentecostal effusion of the Spirit on the Church of Christ, should have related to that Church the most important incidents of the childhood of Jesus, and that these communications should have been preserved as holy relics, is so simple and natural a supposition, that it would be superfluous to discuss it further. note The chief considerations which have been advanced against the history of Christ’s childhood, proceed from the above-mentioned Ebionite view of the life of Jesus. Having, however, already refuted this view, we shall not have occasion to enter any further into an explanation of the circumstance, that these communications have been so generally disregarded, in comparison with other portions of the sacred narrative; separate and special difficulties will, however, be treated of in their proper places. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 58: 02.049. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the angel gabriel (Luke 1:1-80) That theocratic energy which was the soul of Israel’s development, that silent process by which God was becoming man, and man becoming the son of God, seemed in the days of Herod the Great, if viewed according to general appearances, to have become almost extinct. But these appearances must have been deceptive. Never was a great and holy energy stunted to death in the midst of its development; and least of all could this most deeply human, this divine-human impulse, which was the energizing principle of the world’s history, which had begun in such reality, evaporate at last into mere ideals and pictures of life. But it was in entire conformity with the nature of this its sublimest development, that the noble energy should concentrate itself in the secret recesses of the most profound and elect minds of Israel; that it should ripen in such minds into the form of an infinite mourning after God, an unspeakable anticipation and longing; and thus, constituting a state of perfect recipiency, should be waiting in silent expectation for a corresponding divine operation, a new revelation. While the nation in general seemed dying away like the body of an aged man, its glowing life had concentrated itself in the vital recesses of this body, and was there awaiting the hour of its second birth. So great an expectation-an expectation which God Himself had been bringing to maturity, by means of the works He had wrought during so many centuries of the world’s history-could not fail of its accomplishment, that positive communication of life which it needed, and of whose advent it was itself a prophecy. This expectation, though silent and secret, was strained to the very uttermost; hence its fulfilment could not but ensue in such sudden and great manifestations of the power of God, as might be compared to violent storms. It is after a long and anxious pause, on a sultry and stormy day, that the lightning generally appears. At last it darts suddenly forth, its wondrous flames unite heaven and earth, the thunder rolls, and now stroke upon stroke of thunder and lightning follow with no ambiguous purpose-for a new tone is to be given to the atmosphere to refresh the earth. It was so with that objective divine operation which Zacharias and Mary experienced, when the birth of the forerunner was announced and promised to the former, and of the Lord to the latter. This great and wonderful operation of God presupposed a matured recipiency in the deepest and noblest minds in Israel. It is in such a state of recipiency that we meet with the venerable priest Zacharias and his wife Elisabeth: they were pious and righteous in the true Israelite sense. Mary appears on the scene as the handmaid of the Lord, the theocratic heroine, ready to surrender her whole life to God, and acquainted, as well as her priestly relatives, with the spiritual nature of Messiah’s dignity and kingdom. A similar state of perfect recipiency, in which the blossom of Israelite desire opened its petals to the sunshine of the new revelation, prevailed among the elect of those days, in general: Simeon and Anna are the representatives of this recipiency. Such hearts, however, as were to be capable of welcoming and receiving the highest revelation of grace in its bodily manifestation, had to be prepared not merely by the bestowal of noble dispositions, but by their development-not merely in the school of Israelite doctrine, but of Israelite experience. They had to be thoroughly unhappy in the truest sense, to be brought to despair of the goodness of the old exterior world, and to experience, in the annihilation of their former ideals, the judgment of God upon its sinfulness, in which they also saw its misery and sadness. Thus alone could they have given up those false notions of a Messiah which were the ruin of their nation; thus alone have known the happiness of receiving, with a poverty of spirit deep as their knowledge of the world, the Prince of the heavenly kingdom, who was to change judgment into salvation, and to build up a new world upon the ruins of the old. The great sorrow of Zacharias and Elisabeth is known. They had no son. A threefold deprivation, since, under the Old Testament, piety had the promise of an earthly blessing, since the solitariness of their life in the hill country would make the time of advanced age the more gloomy, and since they would not behold the delight, the glory of Israel, which in their longing hearts would be naturally blended with the form of the child which was denied to them. The sorrow of Anna is equally manifest. It was as a widow that she took up her abode in the temple, after the death of her husband. The happiness of her life seems to have been buried with him. The aged Simeon was a theocratic Jeremiah, whom his sorrow for Israel, his ardent longing for the Messiah, had made a wandering Jew in a nobler sense. He was not to die till he had seen the Messiah. He must have breathed forth a long last sigh when he uttered the words, ‘This child is set for the fall of many in Israel.’ He had penetrated the hypocritical nature of most of the fathers and leaders of the nation; but he was also acquainted with the ardent desires of those who were quiet in the land, who were to rise again through the Messiah. The sword had entered into his own soul, or he would not have been able to announce a similar lot to Mary. But what was the school of misfortune Mary could have passed through before she received the annunciation? Certainly, mere talents, noble qualities of mind, a childhood filled with pious anticipations, heartfelt maidenly participation in Israel’s prayer for the advent of Messiah, enhanced by the proud yet sad consciousness of a descent from David concealed from the world, do not suffice to explain the secret of Mary’s preparedness to receive the wonderful communication of the New Testament life, in the strength and fulness of its incarnation. As a Jewess, she must have given up the old Israelite world, must have been brought to bury her old ideals by some judgment of the Lord. At all events, this complete renunciation of the world must have been developed during the progress of some great visitation which she had experienced. But in what did her sorrow consist? Had she not borne it with holy womanliness, and concealed it under an ‘anointed face’? She seems to have been early betrothed to Joseph, according to Israelite law and custom. Perhaps she had been entrusted, as an orphan, to the protecting care of her older relation. But when the rich qualities of her glorious mind had attained to the maturity of maidenhood; when her freer and greater spirit, which was all unconsciously approaching to the New Testament standard, awoke within her, with all its wants; she then became conscious of the grave nature of this tie. Joseph did not understand her, in her deepest experiences. She was increasingly feeling the sad condition of the house of David and of Israel, which was so secretly forming into a judgment upon the inner life of her solitary heart. But, like a true daughter of Israel, she anointed her face; from the burnt sacrifice in which she offered up her first dreams of life and of the world to the great Israelite duty of legal obedience, she came forth as the virgin, in whom the new world was to have its beginning, the promise of the Redeemer to work with divine creative power, in whose womb the Gospel could assume flesh and blood. Zacharias and Mary may be regarded as pre-eminently the mature fruits of the tree of Old Testament discipline and education. Divine illumination and divine chastisement had sanctified them, and led them to the very entrance of that Holy of Holies, where they might receive the announcement of the New Testament revelation of God. The theocratic operation which, according to God’s righteous arrangement, such a disposition as theirs could not fail to experience, was naturally the last and highest manifestation of the Old Testament agency of God; of the power of God energizing towards its redeeming incarnation. When, under the Old Covenant, God revealed Himself to the elect of Israel, these revelations were ever made with reference to His last and highest revelation, His manifestation in the God-man. They were the beginnings of His incarnation. Hence these divine operations always took a human form, in the prophetic ecstasy of those hearts that were visited, in the plastic power of their intuition, and especially when their vision attained the highest degree of intensity. The Son of man who was ever in the bosom of the Father as the coming One, or the Son of God who was ever in the heart of man as the desired One, appeared as present to the spiritually illumined, inwardly perceptive vision of the holy seers. This was the angel of God’s presence; the eternal Man in the self-contemplation of God, the God-man about to become such in the ardent desires of Israel’s life, the non-temporal Christ ever present by the Spirit to the minds of the prophets. Hence He is identified with Jehovah, as well as distinguished from Him.1 The high communication in which God finally stilled the universal struggle between His super-mundane concealment, and matured human desire for Him, resulted in two great manifestations of His miraculous agency, an agency at once theocratic and gracious. The first preliminary communication was made to Zacharias. It was a creative agency, which in its revivifying action prepared the life of John the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ. The second and more glorious communication was made to Mary. It deposited in her soul, in the soul of her organism, the germ of the incarnation of Christ. Both these elect vessels received this communication in an ecstasy, in which the creative power of God, as a gracious power, manifested itself to them under the form of an angel, and in which the interaction which took place between their minds, and the divine power which came upon them, caused them distinctly to recognize in this divine power the word of revelation, and formed itself into a dialogue with the angel. They trembled before the power of this manifestation, in which the word of God flowed into their souls as a creative power. They called the angel who brought them the word which laid in them the foundation of a new æon, according to the power of his word, Gabriel, the man of God, the hero of God. This angel of the presence, whom many in Israel had seen under various circumstances, was called Raphael in the sphere of popular life, when bringing deliverance or assistance to the necessities of the individual. But when to the view of the inspired he presented himself personally as the creative announcer of the kingdom of heaven, of the new æon of the world, he was called Gabriel. When, finally, he appeared before them as the victor over the old son, as the destroyer of the kingdom of the old serpent, he was called Michael. It is always the same christological operation, the one image of Christ; but this one image in ever varying relations; the angel of the presence developing his different modes of operation.1 After what has already been said, it might seem to some superfluous to notice in this place the general objections made to the biblical doctrine of angels. Our view, however, of the angel Gabriel would be very erroneously judged, if regarded as antagonistic to the objectivity of the angelic world. Hence it will be necessary, for its further confirmation, that it should be stated in connection with the general doctrine of angels. The doctrine of angels is derived first from the testimony of theocratic spirits, of elect individuals. They saw visions; and inquiry must first concern itself with their testimony. When the narratives of such visions are declared to be myths because they relate this miraculous occurrence, a vision, criticism is entirely overthrown. In the zeal of negation, it is overlooked that it is only the vision of the narrator which has first to be dealt with. Now, mythology has neither the modesty nor refinement to speak of visions in which the inhabitants of the heavenly world appear. In her world, the vision and the sensuous perception are one and the same; the unearthly beings go about freely, and are seen with earthly eyes, for their world itself is a mythological vision. It is quite otherwise with the appearances of angels in the lives of the saints, though the traditions of some of these narratives in the Old Testament show a tinge of the mythological in their setting.1 According to the testimony of the theocratic Church, the saints saw visions. These assurances rest upon the same foundation of veracity upon which their inspired testimony to the principles of the heavenly life, which they planted in the earth, depends. The critic has first duly to estimate the difference between the subjective vision and its objective matter, unless he would rashly and hastily cut the Gordian knot with his sword. He must not proceed strictly to test the objectivity of the vision till he has first treated its subjective dignity with reverence. This remark, that angelic appearances are chiefly found in the form of visions, has not, however, to be set before the critic alone, but also before the orthodox. Never has an angel been seen in the usual direction of the eyes towards the surface of the earth, when the eyes have been in their ordinary sensuous condition. Such a sight seems rather to have depended upon some peculiarity of mind, some special frame, at some great crisis of the world’s history, which may be regarded as predisposing to an extraordinary revelation.1 As the eye that beholds the sun must be endowed with the sun-gazing capacity, so must there be a spiritual disposition in those who behold spirits, an angelic one in those to whom angels appear. This explains the reason, perhaps, why one of the women who visited the tomb saw two angels, when the other perceived but one; why the apostles so suddenly saw angels standing beside them on the Mount of Olives, and other similar circumstances. The capacity for such sight would be different in different men, and in the same man at different moments. It depends upon a frame of mind in which the eye of the body does not stand in its usual opposition to the inner eye, the sight of the heart; in which the polar opposition between the two is annulled in the unity which is the foundation of both. The eye of the body is, so to speak, plunged into the depths of the heart; the inmost heart has entered into the bodily eye; and thus the visionary and ecstatic man has a glimpse of a world in which the contrast between the internal and external disappears, in which the struggle between heaven and earth is extinct. Such seeing, therefore, is no common perception, but a vision. It is certain that the Bible sometimes speaks of angels with dogmatic certainty (e.g., Hebrews 2:2), and sometimes in a symbolical manner. We must consequently distinguish between symbolical visions of angels, and such statements as agree with the notion of an objective angelic world. Even symbolical visions of angels are more or less objective, inasmuch as the ecstasy must always be the result of an influence which must be looked upon as a divine operation. Most numerous are those subjective and symbolical representations of angels, which are found in the history of all times and places. When man receives with delight some great assistance from on high, an angel is present to his mind by means of that plastic power which intuitively thus regards the circumstance. This form is actual in his mind. It is, as formerly remarked, his ‘second sight’ of Christ. Such angelic appearances must occur under the most varied forms. Indeed, education, and even variety of mental perception, will exert their influence on the forms of these representations of angels, though they are not mere subjective fictions, but the results of a divine influence upon the mind. Of a more important character are those great angelic forms who pass through the world, as spirits of vengeance, of pestilence, of death, or similar divine messengers, in conjunction with the powers of the elements. They represent the extraordinary visitations of God, exhibiting them in their true character, as mysterious powers proceeding immediately from God, and in their highest purpose, as sent with reference to the glory of Christ. Thus coming from God, and thus referring to Christ, even the darkest visitation becomes an angel of light, and solemnizes its symbolic incarnation.1 But the most exalted operations of God are those in which the communication of His very life are concerned, in which the whole incarnation of Christ is expressed. These appear to the spectator, as has been pointed out above, as the angel of the divine presence. Hence out of one image are developed various images of the archangel. The archangel surpasses the ordinary angelic world as an image and operation of Christ: Christ stands above the angels. But as operations may become angels in the horizon of the spectators, so also may angels manifest themselves in operations. That Holy Scripture does announce the appearance of actual angels, cannot be denied, nor has anything as yet been advanced antagonistic to this announcement. Some seek to avoid this question by the remark, that the doctrine of angels belongs neither to the dogmatic nor religious matter of Scripture.2 Did then the Scriptures concern themselves to give us information about the physiology of angels? In the end, however, even such a view would not deliver us from this difficult question. Our religious view of life must embrace the whole world; and whether the doctrine of angels is in the Bible or not, we must try to come to a decision about it.3 A multitude of objections to the doctrine of angels has been advanced. We will take these objections in pairs, that is to say, we will arrange them in opposing pairs, as casting light upon or abolishing each other. At one time, it is said that God has no local palace in heaven, and keeps no such heavenly court, after the fashion of Oriental princes, as the idea of angels supposes.1 Then, again, angels are represented as beings existing between two worlds, who, as such, must be lost in the regions of empty space.2 The one representation is evidently antagonistic to the other, and they might therefore be left to annihilate each other. We will, however, consider them separately. If the doctrine of Jehovah’s heavenly palace were really found in its literal sense in the Old Testament, Judaism would be a kind of Heathenism; and the doctrine of God’s omnipresence could not be so decidedly expressed in its view of the world, as e.g. in Psalms 139:1-24. Every unprejudiced mind must easily perceive that in the light of this doctrine, as well as in the whole teaching of Hebrew Monotheism, such words as relate to the special dwelling-place of God in heaven, must have a symbolical meaning. Let us now consider the angels of the highest heaven, or of the citadel of the universe, as beings existing between the worlds. This view of their peculiarity may perhaps be found in Jean Paul, but not in John or Paul. Holy Scripture knows nothing of this abstract inter-mundanism (comp. 1 Corinthians 15:40, Matthew 22:30). Hence, neither the heathen court of angels, nor these modern ethereal angels, are scriptural. The next pair of objections appears in the following form.3 First, it is said angels are incorporeal beings; and an incorporeal being cannot appear. Then it is remarked, that it would be contrary to divine providence, if there were such beings and appearances, since their agency would deprive men of their independence. Therefore an angel is an incorporeal being, and yet again so substantial a one, that he attacks human independence. When, however, the notion of incorporeal individuals is considered by itself, it is evident that a phantom is but produced for the sake of obtruding it upon the Bible. For in the Bible all beings have their proper bodies, conformably to their spheres (1 Corinthians 15:38). This notion, however, could hardly maintain itself in presence of the test furnished by a sound view of the world. For the form of individual personality must be everywhere recognized in creation, as a power which as a speaking monad must, by its very existence, assimilate corporeal matter. But it is said that the existence of angels disturbs human spontaneity. Somewhat in the same manner, perhaps, that moonlight interferes with the regulations for the lighting of the streets. Demoniacal human spirits seem most fearfully to interfere with the independence of thousands; yet they actually exist. Angels, on the contrary, only manifest themselves with extreme rarity to the inner man of the receptive spirit, and not without being more or less bidden by his frame of mind. As the muses visit the poet alone, so do the angels visit only the religious and elect. Again, it is at one time said that the Jews brought back a more particular, definite doctrine of angels from the Babylonian captivity, and that the names given to the angels were the result of the influence of the Zend religion.1 Then it is found strange that the angels, and especially Gabriel, should bear Hebrew names.2 It may be conceded that the Jews, under the influence of the Persian doctrine of Amshaspands, did further develop their doctrine of angels. But from the circumstance that these more developed forms of angels bear Hebrew names, and are represented as speaking the Hebrew tongue, it must be allowed that the development in general, is one quite in conformity with Israelite Monotheism. The fact, however, of a fresh development within the theocratic soil being promoted by a heathen influence, is not equivalent to the implantation of a heathen notion, as the critic supposes when he says, ‘Were these notions false as long as they were confined to strangers, and not true until they were transferred to the Jews?’ The Jews always had their own doctrine of angels (comp. Gen. 19.) If this doctrine was developed under foreign influences, this development nevertheless was organically conformable to the organism of Monotheism.3 Its angels could as little be transformed into Amshaspands, genii, or inferior gods, as the fallen spirit, Satan, could be transformed into Ahrimanes, the evil god. The germ, however, from which they developed their high-enthroned spirits was, as we have seen, the angel of the divine presence. This development may even be regarded as a development of Old Testament Christology, inasmuch as the separate forms of the life of the coming Messiah were therein explained (comp. Isaiah 11:2, Revelation 1:4). The Israelite had no need to introduce the number seven from the Amshaspands into this development; for he was already accustomed to discover the fulness of life in the same holy number: to meet with this number elsewhere, could at most incite him thus to represent the forms of the angel of the covenant. The obscuration of Christology first began with the decay of the conviction that visions of the becoming God-man were dogmatically fixed in these angel forms. It was, therefore, not only allowable, but a proceeding which reformed old errors, when the true theocrats of Israel called the glorious manifestation of the becoming Messiah by the name of Gabriel. The theocratic seer thereby testified at once to his sense for the ideal and for history. His sense for the ideal, in giving the angel a name which designated him as an operation. He called the creative operation of grace, in its divine power, the hero of God, because it appeared to him in the divine-human form. His sense for history, because this divine operation was continually reappearing in Israel; it had its rhythm, it repeated and enhanced its manifestations. Therefore the seer who had seen it, fixed it and named it according to his own experience. This name then became a sign to any other who might or who was to experience it. He might be convinced of communion with his fellow-believers even in this experience and recognition. A theocratic Church could not but designate its heavenly experiences, because it experienced the definite progress of God’s redeeming purpose in a succession of events, and not a nameless alternation of divine things in physical perpetuity. The arguments just cited against the doctrine of angels, as little disturb our faith in these heavenly beings, as the prowling of young bears over a sunny meadow would disturb the light fluttering of butterflies over its variegated flowers.1 Of more importance is the remark, that appearances of angels have become things unheard of in modern times, and thus seem, like ordinary spiritual apparitions, to have vanished before the daylight. It must not, however, be overlooked, that the angels of the old theocracy were only present at special periods, and when new foundations of revelation were to be laid. The modern world is indeed a deeper, broader, and more powerful stream, yet but a stream pursuing its appointed and regular course, an effluence only from the miraculous age of Christ’s appearing. The angels who appeared at His grave, opened at once that grave and our æon. This æon is to last till the end of the world. Then shall the angels again appear within the region of humanity (Matthew 13:39). But the peculiarity of this Christian æon must also be taken into account. Christ appeared, and believing Christendom attained, by His Spirit, to the perception of His glory. There is now a satisfaction for the christological aspirations of man; the capacity for receiving angelic visions is absorbed in Christian knowledge. In this respect the angels may be compared to the stars of heaven, which disappear before the rising sun, while at noonday even the full moon seems but a white cloud. The possibility of the existence of such beings as the angels of Holy Scripture is more and more corroborated by the discoveries of modern science. We see stars of all colours, and of every variety of material condition, traversing infinite space, many of a lightness as ethereal as golden dreams or spectral spheres. The spirits that inhabit them must correspond, in the rapidity and freedom of their powers of motion, to the elf-like nature of their abodes. To those philosophers, indeed, who see in all the starry canopy only ‘rocks of light,’ uninhabited wastes, the whole world of space is but an Ahriman, a dark world from which spirit is excluded. But if heaven is really inhabited, as we may expect according to the analogy of the earth, it cannot but be regarded as a vast realm of spirits. In this vast realm are found those ministering spirits whose objective existence is certainly assumed when they are spoken of in the Epistle to the Hebrews. But we must delay considering the various kinds of angelic beings till we have first considered the frames of mind which can apprehend them. In the stillness of night we may hear the rushing of the distant stream, which we could not perceive amidst the noises of day; and the light in a distant cottage window is seen to cast its gleam through the whole neighbourhood, while the burning of the whole cottage would scarcely have been noticed by daylight. The roar of Niagara is said to be much better heard at a certain distance than in its immediate vicinity. The same distinctions prevail within the sphere of the inner life. Most minds are incessantly and wholly filled, nay, tied and bound, with the bustle of external events. Their eyes can scarcely fix upon anything merely great or beautiful, which passes them bodily, because they seek the one thing needful in too many things, they suffer from the quest after everything. When, however, this quest after every kind of thing becomes the possessing demon of an age, or even its very worship, we cannot be surprised if that deeply contemplative mood, which believes in the passage of spirits from star to star, from heaven to earth, should disappear. When any one has once taken his position in the mill of world-craving selfishness, and has set all its wheels in motion, he could not hear the fall of Niagara, even if it were close at hand. But there are souls that have a higher feeling for infinity, because they have the courage to let go those things among the many which are not in conformity with their disposition. They can even, under certain circumstances, welcome the ruin, the end of this world. It is, however, natural that one in whose eyes the world, with its fashions, passes away, should obtain an organ, or rather that the organ should be developed within him, by means of which he looks into the very heavens, and experiences heavenly influences. When the old world perishes, and a new one is expected from heaven, the noblest hearts are, so to speak, vacant, or rather open, for heaven; no longer filled by the old world, which, with its fashions and bustle, is dead to them. In such a condition, they are capable of hearing the voices of spirits, and of beholding the angels of God. It was in such a frame of mind that the women visited the tomb of Jesus; to them all the glory of the world was buried in that grave. Therefore they had an open eye for the messengers of heaven. Thus also was it that the eyes of the disciples were opened on Olivet, when Jesus ascended to heaven. Earth melted into nothingness when they saw the Lord depart from them; now, therefore, they were able to perceive the messengers from heaven, and to receive their message. The beholders of angels become in their ecstasy, as it were, released from the common interests of earth, temporarily ‘absent from the body;’ and therefore spiritually disposed beings having intercommunion with a higher sphere of life, and that a sphere which bends down towards theirs, as they in spirit rise towards it.1 But when the spirits of different spheres of life have a common interest, which equally embraces both, they actually meet together in one sphere; they now operate upon each other, and, when their influences are mutually felt, they are even capable of being personally visible to each other. When the aspirations of Greece invisibly concurred with the missionary impulses of Paul on the sea-coast of Troas, like two approaching flames, then Paul saw in a vision a man of Macedonia standing before him (Acts 16:9).2 The spirits of Peter and Cornelius so strongly influenced each other, when Peter at Joppa had approached the town of Cesarea, that each was in a vision directed to the other (Acts 10:1-48) If these two cases do not exactly express the relation between the spirits of earth and those of a higher world (though in the case of Peter there is at the same time a communication between Christ and himself, and in the case of Cornelius, the communication between him and the objective angel-world cannot be denied),3 yet they are, on the other hand, specially adapted, as examples easily comprehensible, to exemplify the law of visions which we have laid down. The history of the transfiguration, however, presents us with a more difficult and more eminent example. The relative intercourse between the spirits of Moses and Elias, and Christ, draws them into the Lord’s sphere of life, when He was about to inaugurate his last journey to His death by His transfiguration; and by the powerful rapport between Jesus and His disciples, they also were partakers of this vision. A contrast to this attraction which takes place between God’s heroes from sphere to sphere, causing them spiritually to blend in one sphere, is found in the general rapport between angels and children. The peculiar affinity between the moon and the sea is well known; we understand that a somnambulist may be, as it were, possessed by the influence of light of the new moon; it is known that sainfoin celebrates the influence of the sun by a gentle trembling like a passing spirit; we are acquainted with the infinitely far-reaching influences of light, and are inclined, in all these respects, to believe in the most spirit-like influences, even in matter. But when the immeasurably distant influence of spirits upon spirits-it might almost be said, of the most delicate of lights upon the most delicate lights-is spoken of, then common sense stumps in its clumsiest wooden shoes into the midst of the discussion, and dismisses the matter with the cheap remark: Imagination, enthusiastic illusions, or legends. When the full import of the sympathies, of which a faint notion is expressed when the tendencies of this age are allowed to speak out, is scientifically recognized, we shall be forced to acknowledge that the influences of spirits between star and star must be far more powerful than that of starry light, or of any other attracting or repelling forces. We conclude, then, that when spirits dwelling in different spheres are brought to identity of disposition, when one thought vibrates in them, one interest animates them, they will exert an influence upon each other, and may be sent to one another.1 But every influence of this kind may become plastic in the mind of the ecstatic. As in photography2 a means has been found of fixing and rendering visible the images reflected upon a surface, by objects placed opposite to it; So is an ecstasy a similar means of detaining certain spiritual influences, and translating them according to their actual import in sight and speech, which in truth they already are, though in a latent manner. Objects are always reflecting their images upon opposite surfaces; but photography alone makes them visible and preserves them. So also are spirits ever influencing spirits, though at great distances; but it is only in the ecstatic state that these influences obtain an actual plastic form. From what has been advanced, then, it follows that appearances of spirits from other worlds are, under the given conditions, imaginable, when the visionary mind, freed from its own world, receives from the spirit most kindred to itself in another world, an influence which its own plastic agency translates into form, words, and perhaps also into a name; just as the light reflected from one countenance to another is re-formed into a countenance in the eye of the latter. Since, however, souls are active in their operations, these influences between distances may be regarded as approaches. The spirits, however, of the subtler regions of the universe, whose corporeity must be almost identical with their operations, as far as their delicacy is concerned, must be able in this organization to hover through the world with a freedom which can scarcely be represented by the most refined of earthly comparisons. The kingdom of God embraces in its development various spheres; as the history of civilization does various countries. The spirits of education who promote civilization upon earth are not restrained by the boundaries of nations, they overleap mountains and provinces. It is even so with the spirits of the theocracy; they overpass the barriers of the earthly senses, the limitations of earth. But when the intercourse between them is to become a special influence of heaven upon earth, this ever takes place at a most critical and decisive period, preordained by God. It is then that the Lord sends His holy angels. Holy Scripture speaks of the appearing of angels in the most literal sense. We do not reckon the angel Gabriel among them, not because he is beneath this category, but far above it, as the angel of the divine presence, acting in creative power in the last moments prior to his incarnation.1 note Even the most objective angelic apparition is symbolic, inasmuch as the nearest approach of a spirit ever requires the plastic co-operation of the mind of the spectator. The element of the symbolic enters even into love, as existing between man and man. The beloved object is a vision. On the other hand, even the most subjective vision of angels is not purely subjective; it is an objective divine operation coming in the light and power of a christological image from God to man. [Such an objectiveness as this, however, by no means comes up to that which is implied in Scripture; and it is to be regretted that the author has not more distinctly brought out the difference between the objective appearance of the angels themselves, and the objective operation by which the minds of men were prepared for their visits. For while the minds of those to whom they were sent were no doubt most frequently in a state of preparedness, that state of mind was so far from being the cause, that it was not invariably even a requisite condition of the appearance. See, e.g., the case of Sodom. Moreover, if angels appeared in bodies which could partake of earthly nourishment (as they sometimes did), are we not justified in concluding that these bodies were visible to the merely bodily eye? They were not, of course, sent at random, not sent as idlers to hover before those to whom they had no message; but those fit persons to whom they were sent saw them with the bodily organ of vision; and to prove that these persons were generally in an exalted frame of mind, is to prove nothing whatever regarding the objective appearance of what they then saw. The case of Samuel mistaking the voice of the Lord for the voice of Eli is instructive, in showing us the purely objective nature of such phenomena.-Ed.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 59: 02.050. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III zacharias (Luke 1:1-80) It is a mark of the refined consistency of the theocratic spirit, that the visibly impending event of the incarnation of God should first have been announced within the sanctuary of the Jewish temple; that the Jewish priesthood, in the person of one of its holiest members, and during the performance of one of its sacred functions, should first have been admitted to the knowledge of this great and germinating mystery. After the long silence of the prophetic Spirit, an aged priest was destined to be the first who was again to proclaim the prophetic Gospel of the coming Messiah, and a priest’s son was appointed to close the long series of Messianic prophets, as the immediate forerunner of Christ. The temple seems, indeed, at this time to have been almost entirely occupied by a dead and hypocritical priesthood; but the Spirit of revelation knew how to find the healthy member of the diseased body. The divine communication which Zacharias received in the temple was indeed like a whisper from the pure Spirit of revelation, shunning the false audience of a priesthood plunged in a debased fanaticism. He was, moreover, obliged to carry it in silence, like a secret treasure, to the solitude of his home, to secure it from the profanation of the other priests of his order. The theocracy could not but honour the temple, the hour of prayer, and the true priest, now that it was about to form the eternal and true sanctuary in presence of the symbolical One. Even the angel of the divine presence went thither and showed Himself to the priest, when He was about to put on human nature. We have already spoken of the state of mind which made Zacharias susceptible of the divine revelation. In the melancholy resignation of painfully-felt childlessness, he had left his home,1 with his fellow-priests of the course of Abia, to perform the services of the temple during his week of office.2 By the casting of the lot, the office of burning incense fell to him. It would be impossible for Zacharias to offer this great sign of the united prayer of Israel, without bringing before the Lord the concerns of His people. Hence his soul had undoubtedly attained to a fervency of theocratic prayer for Israel at the conclusion of this symbolical act, and he was about to leave the temple, when the wondrous power of Jehovah’s covenant-grace was manifested to him in the appearance of the angel Gabriel.3 Undoubtedly the ideal Zion and his domestic ideal had been a thousand times already blended in his contemplations. Hence the promise that it should be fulfilled was now blended with the promise of a son in the message of the angel. The angel stood at the right hand of the altar of incense, a good omen for Zacharias. But he was terrified; the revelation found corners as yet unenlightened, and remains of unmelted obstinacy and unextinguished bitterness in his soul, although in the depths of his heart there was a living agreement therewith, his life was radically conformed to it. Hence his individuality stands out. His wife Elisabeth was to bear him a son. He was to be called John, the gracious gift of God;1 he was to be a messenger of God’s favour to his father, and a cause of joy to many. His life was to be great; and he was to be sanctified from his mother’s womb through the holy dispositions of his parents, sanctified by the Holy Ghost. Hence his development would proceed without great deviations in the direct line of the unfolding of the divine light in his life. It was, however, to be protected by the ordinance of the Nazarite;2 he was to pass his life in the abstinence of one vowed to God. This promised one was to turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. He was to go before the face of the Lord, according to the promise of Malachi (3:1), in the spirit and power of Elias, to make ready a prepared people. But in what manner? By turning, on one hand, the hearts of the fathers (of the better Pharisees perhaps) to the children, thus making a way for the divine stranger by opposing the traditions of the fathers; on the other hand, by turning the unbelieving (the better among the Sadducees) to the true wisdom of the just. But how could Zacharias mistrust and contradict the word of the angel, whose message thus met his heart’s deepest aspirations? At such moments, when the bestowal of a long-wished-for blessing, whose want he thought he had long ago got over, is announced to one who is resigned to God’s dealings, and is declared to be now nigh at hand, all the sensibility of his soul is expressed in a sudden reaction. The peace of resignation has become so dear to him. He has felt himself so secure, so free, and proud in that deprivation which he has accepted from the hand of God as his lot in life, and he is unwilling to be thrown back into his former conflicts. Hence it generally happens that there is a remnant of bitter reminiscence still unexterminated in the depths of the heart. He had once felt himself injured by Providence, but he was constrained by his submission to God to oppose, to condemn, to deaden such a feeling. But now, amidst the surprising announcement, the smothered flame of his displeasure bursts forth once more. His various emotions produce a strong passion, a convulsive effort of mind, which seems to repel the promise. Thus did Abraham make objections, when Isaac was promised him; and Moses seemed no longer gladly willing, when he was at length commissioned to realize his youth’s highest ideal, and to redeem Israel. Zacharias too manifests a similar emotion. He had indeed reason to ask, How shall this be? for ‘I am an old man, and my wife well stricken in years.’ But instead of an explanation, he requests a fresh sign. ‘Whereby shall I know this?’-the vision seeming to him an insufficient sign.1 The same divine operation now makes a second and more powerful impression upon him. His doubts are overpowered by the majesty of the divine vision, which appeared to him in a still clearer light. He now recognizes in this appearance the angel Gabriel, who stands before God (therefore the angel of the divine presence); and the reproof which thrills through his soul, for his mistrust of such a revelation, affects his whole being. But it is asked, how could the angel inflict upon him the affliction of dumbness as a punishment to his unbelief? Was not this such a manifestation of passion, it is asked, as should not be supposed to exist in an angelic breast? And was not such treatment unjust, when compared with that which Mary and which Abraham experienced on similar occasions?2 We must first remember that here, as everywhere in the province of revelation, we have to do with facts, whose intention and exact significance is to be known by their results. In the present case, the fact was as follows: Zacharias became dumb as the result of the shock which the vision produced in his mind, and did not regain his speech till John had been born and received his name. He himself recognized in this fact the punishment of his sin; since, without the co-operation of his conscience, he would not have understood the word of the angel, which announced this chastisement. There was also a difference between the expressions of Mary and Abraham and those of Zacharias. He found the sign, which was to be to him the pledge that the wondrous promise would be fulfilled, too small. But even if he had expressed himself exactly as Abraham did, the assertion of critics, that he ought then to experience treatment in no wise differing from that which Abraham experienced, must be attributed to an external and most formal casuistry. It is an old rule, that two persons may perform externally the same action, without that action having precisely the same moral import.3 Can the critic prove that the moral value of the question of Zacharias cannot possibly be different from that of Abraham? Might not one and the same question be, in the mouth of Abraham, an expression of most profound submission; in that of Mary, of purest maidenly solicitude; and in that of Zacharias, a question not free from the reviving elements of unbelief? We cannot help it if the casuist is insensible to the importance of the actual state of the inner life in producing this variety, but we need not long occupy ourselves with his ‘difficulty.’1 It can prove nothing against the historic reality of the late birth here announced, that similar late births were matters of promise in the Old Testament, as those of Isaac and Samuel.2 This circumstance, on the contrary, points to a peculiarity in the divine government which is wont to call not merely the late-born, but frequently also the lost, the exposed, the greatly endangered, or the overlooked among children, and to form them into the chosen vessels of His providence. These form an extensive category, in which may be reckoned, according to legendary history, Romulus and Remus; according to the Old Testament, Isaac, Joseph, and Moses; and according to the New, John the Baptist and Christ. Dumb, and speaking by signs, solemnized, yet filled with sacred joy, Zacharias came forth from the temple to bless the waiting people; dumb, but happy in the certainty of the promised blessing, he returned, after having fulfilled his ministry, to his home. His wife Elisabeth conceived. She lived for five months in strict retirement, a hermitess, already entering into the destination of her son by her own conduct; her soul reposing in the joyful feeling that the Lord had looked upon her, and taken away her reproach among women. It was amidst the noblest of Israelite aspirations that John was conceived, and that the day of his birth approached. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 60: 02.051. SECTION IV ======================================================================== Section IV the virgin mary (Luke 1:1-80; Matthew 1:1-25) It was six months after Elisabeth, the mother of the promised forerunner of Messiah, had conceived, that the second and greater manifestation of the theocratic Spirit of God took place. Mary, the Israelite maiden of Nazareth, the betrothed of Joseph, received the heavenly message. The angel Gabriel appeared to her, and brought her the message that she was to be the mother of the Messiah. This wonderful event is a rhythm of the mutual action which took place between the highest and most glorious influences of the theocratic Spirit of God, and the most elevated and holiest frame of that elect soul, who was to be the starting-point of a new and higher creation. The majesty of that power of God which was bringing grace, and founding the kingdom of salvation, suddenly appears before her mind in a holy hour of prayer as a bright vision. She experiences the first effect of this manifestation; the word of God, from the mouth of the angel, that she is highly favoured of God, the elect among all women, resounds through her soul. Hence, the first word of the message is a greeting from God, in which her reconciliation, her peace with God, and her high vocation are assured to her. The blessed and glad surprise of the assurance of her eternal election penetrates her whole being. But scarcely was this experience vouchsafed unto her, than her soul was troubled to its depths. In the surprise of humility, she was unable to understand the meaning of the salutation: she cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be. She thus confirmed its effect, and made way for the second part of this message. Another and still brighter effulgence of the revealing power of God follows upon this humble fear. It is answered, and assured to her, that the highest blessing in Israel is destined to her, that she is to bring forth the Messiah. The angel already calls Him, and her rejoicing heart also calls Him, Jesus, the help of God, the salvation of God. He stands before her soul in His glory, the Son of the Most High. His form is justly Israelite: He appears as the royal son of David, who is to possess the throne of His father. But His nature is Christ-like: His kingdom is eternal; a kingdom which will develop itself in the infinity of the Divine Spirit is promised Him.1 Lost in the heartfelt aspirations of pure love, she contemplates Him whom she is to bring forth. All the longings of Israel, nay, of humanity, for the divine-human Lord and Saviour, for Him who was to be the honour of the human race, kindle within her heart, and her whole soul is dissolved in desires after Him, under the influence of the divine announcement sent to her from heaven. But she feels that this Being, as the highest thought of God, His express image, His most glorious communication and gift, soars high above her. How can she become the mother of the Messiah-she the virgin? Not desponding doubt, but the enlightened inquiry of a clear understanding, expresses its helplessness in presence of the Eternal by this: How? Mary inquires, with a greatness and purity in which all maidenly bashfulness is absorbed, in which true maidenliness expresses itself in perfect liberty of mind: ‘How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?’1 Then follows the third and most exalted operation of the divine manifestation? The Holy Spirit bears her spirit beyond the limits of the old æon. She is baptized, in full inspiration, into the death of surrender to the dealings of God. Her development has now attained the climax of the earlier humanity. Painters rightly represent Gabriel as presenting to Mary the branch of lilies. The lily branch denotes her own life, in this perfect, inspired frame. ‘The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God!’ Thus that divine operation which she experiences sounds like a saying which enlightens her whole being. The Holy Ghost perfects her frame of mind, and the power of God completes, while this frame continues, that creative work whose result was the germination and production of the flower of the human race from her life, the lily flower from the lily branch. The Word becomes flesh. Mary abides in the glory of God’s wonder-working power. She feels certain that Omnipotence is at hand, when Divine Grace and Truth make a promise. Assurance enters her soul as a distinct word of God: with God nothing shall be impossible. Thus her glance is enlightened to penetrate the sphere of God’s wonder-working power. In this clear vision of the realm of the new revelation, her soul perceives her friend Elisabeth; it is announced to her that the childless and barren one has conceived. Thus had the operation of God appointed and depicted her lot. She must have felt what was before her, while treading this path of miracle: how she might become an enigma to her betrothed husband; lose her honour in the eyes of the world, and be led into the very darkest path-a path of death to a Jewish virgin. But it was the Lord who had called her, and He could testify for her. She said, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to Thy word,’ In God’s strength she quickly decided, ready even to enter upon the darkness of shame, though more painful to a maiden heart than death itself. And thus was she truly the mother of Jesus, of the hero of God, who endured the cross, despising the shame, and saved the world by His death upon the cross. Henceforth God is to be her fame. But the abrupt manner in which her words break off, her deep silence, is very significant. She was absorbed in the contemplation not only of the glory, but of the deathlike sternness of her destiny. Human nature had in its religious development, in its pressure towards the light, under the leading of the Spirit of God, now attained that wondrous height, which formed the centre of its historical, the end of its natural, the beginning of its spiritual course. As its first æon, the æon of natural life, had begun with a miracle, so its second or spiritual æon could not but proceed from a miracle. In other words, it must proceed from a truly new principle, a principle breaking through the old æon, with the superior force of a higher grade. The Gospel announcement of the miraculous descent of Christ from the Virgin was opposed by all contemporaries whose theories of inspiration were infected by an Ebionite mutilation, and sometimes passed over, or but slightly touched upon, even by more orthodox theologians. There is, however, no reason for thus treating this doctrine, though fear of the profanation which this holy mystery so soon incurs from common minds might induce us rather to defend it than to bring it prominently forward. They who do not hold it in its connection with all the essential doctrines of Christianity, and a thoroughly christological view of life and of the world, and they who do not cherish it, in the simplicity of childlike faith, as the most glorious, the central miracle of the world’s history, cannot profit by it. But it is one thing not to bring this dogma prominently forward, and quite another to doubt or reject it. Its positive denial robs every other doctrine of Christianity of its full value. Neither the death of Christ nor His resurrection can be known in their whole significance, if His birth is positively misconceived. In this case, there is a crack in the bell, and its pure, full, penetrating sound is gone. The discovery was thought to have been made, that this doctrine was non-essential, as being insufficient for its purpose. This arose, however, from the assumption, that it was set up by the Christian Church, for the purpose of representing the life of Christ as free from original sin, by reason of His miraculous birth. The sagacious remark was consequently made, that the removal of male instrumentality in the origin of a human being did not suffice to prevent his hereditary sinfulness, since there was still the instrumentality of the sinful mother, and the influence of her sinfulness upon the life of her child.1 This line of argument might indeed be of importance, if the assumption were a correct one. But the question is not, what is the result of a dogma? but, what are we taught concerning one of the great original facts of Christianity? and this sagacious argument looks, by the side of this teaching, something like a child by the side of a man whose knee he barely reaches. This doctrine has been attacked by the remark, that the earlier expressions of the Evangelists concerning it are not borne out by the Gospels, in which, on the contrary, Jesus is often designated the son of Joseph1 (Luke 2:41; Luke 2:48; Luke 4:22; Matthew 13:55; John 6:42). It seems, then, to be required that, in Christ’s life, those duties which sons and step-sons owe to their parents, as such, should be omitted. It would certainly be acting in a strictly dogmatical manner thus, in compliance with the requisition of critics, to sacrifice the due expression of filial respect to a doctrinal form. Nay, it has been required that Jesus should have appealed to His miraculous origin, when the Jews spoke of His lowly condition. This requisition, however, need only be mentioned; its true value cannot be unappreciated by any candid mind.2 But when it is asserted that this doctrine is found in none of the writings of the apostles, except in the Gospel tradition of the childhood of Jesus, such an assertion can only be explained upon the supposition of a most imperfect acquaintance with the signification of those genuine christological definitions which so frequently recur in the New Testament.3 John clearly enough defines the miraculous origin of Christ, when he says, John 1:14 : ‘The Word was made flesh.’ On the assumption of the natural descent of Jesus from Joseph and Mary, he could at most have said, The Word came in the flesh; but that the Word Himself should have become flesh, denotes a creative incident; the miraculous entrance of the all-embracing idea, in the concrete manifestation, the complete identity of the Eternal Word and human flesh, in the element of a new life. No doubt can exist of the import of this deeply significant saying, when we hear Jesus (John 3:6) lay down the rule: That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit; and make (John 3:3) the being born again of the Spirit the condition of entrance into the kingdom of heaven to all men who, as flesh, are born of the flesh.1 The son of Joseph could only have become a prophet of God by being born again, and could not have been the Redeemer born in the flesh; nor could it have been said of Him (ver. 30), He that cometh from above, is above all. The Apostle Paul, too, undoubtedly refers to the same fact, when he represents Christ (1 Corinthians 15:47) as the man from heaven.2 He agrees with John in proclaiming the miraculous origin of Christ. The Christology of both is clear and decided, and raised, even in its first incident, above every Ebionite misconception. Paul represents this man, who is the Lord from heaven, as the second man, in decided contrast to the first man, who is of the earth, earthy. He is the heavenly counterpart to the earthly man, the second Adam; He was consequently made a quickening spirit, as Adam was a living soul (1 Corinthians 15:45). Thus even in His origin He was the second man, as Adam was the first. Had He become man in the usual course of the Adamic generations, He must have been attributed, collectively with the whole race, to the first man, to Adam. But it was that which was new, which was miraculous in His origin, it was His actual origination from the life of the Spirit, which made Him the second man. The statement of the apostle is, under this aspect, not merely an announcement, it is also a proof of the mystery in question. The review of Cerinthus, that it is an impossibility, has of late been repeated with approbation.3 It is said that such a generation would be the most striking departure from every law of nature,4 and again that we must not indeed, even in a Christian point of view, confound the notion of a wonder with that of a miracle. A wonder is the effect of a new principle of life at its first appearance in a pre-existing and subordinate sphere of life, an effect produced by some sort of means. A miracle, on the contrary, is doubly contrary to nature, monstrous, and therefore only a fictitious wonder. On one side, it is deficient in means or historical proof; on the other, in dynamic foundation or ideal proof. It must, therefore, certainly be considered a miracle, that a human being should, in the midst of the Adamic generations, be born without paternal generation; and in opposition to such a fiction, it might always be remarked, that God never works superfluous wonders. It must, indeed, be granted that the first human beings originated without natural generation, but that, when once the way of generation had been ordained of God, the coming of a human being was not to be expected in any other manner. The plant, e.g., begins, so to speak, with a wonder in its origin, in the seed, or in the root; but when its development has once begun, the stock continues advancing in regular progression according to law, till it reaches its destined height. Then, however, something new appears, viz., the blossom, the wonder of the summit, corresponding to the wonder in the ground. The blossom is not to be compared to a miracle, but to a wonder. There is an adequate cause for it, but, at the same time, plant-life appears therein as a new, and often an ennobled and elevated principle. It is not enough to say of this wonder, it might happen, for it is in the very nature of the plant that it must happen. It was thus also that the tree of human nature, according to the profound hint of the Apostle Paul, shot upwards from the dark earth toward heaven,-the wonder in the ground, the root of the race, Adam, corresponding to the wonder of the summit, of the development of the race, entering into a spiritual and heavenly life, the flower of the human race, even Christ. When we consider that the second man appeared during the later stage of human life as the climax of the whole organism, as the counterpart to the first man who was its foundation, we obtain a harmonious and exclusive view, plainly bearing within itself a character of internal necessity. It may be indeed inconvenient to gaze upwards to this exalted height of humanity; uncomfortable to acknowledge that the second man, the principle of the world’s end, has already appeared in our midst; difficult to suppose that humanity has already reached the highest point of its religious development, while its branches still spread abroad in such rank luxuriance; but it is really far more difficult to expose our view of the future lot of the human race to the supposition of an ‘evil’ endlessness, to ignore the unity of the race in its development, and to reject the announcement of the close of this development in its consummation, in the one individuality which presents the phenomenon of the divine life in the human. The flower of humanity has unfolded itself in the climate of God’s presence;1 it has received the fulness of His life, and now pours forth the same for ever, in order to consecrate by its blessing the wild plant, and to ennoble it for life in heaven. As the first man originated, without father and without mother, from that creative agency of God which spiritualized the dust of the earth, so did the second man originate without father, by that effectual power of the Most High which spiritualized humanity.2 Generation is certainly an honourable and noble form of human origin; nevertheless, being in itself only a function of natural life, its result can be only a natural one, i.e., an unspiritualized, undeified human life.1 It is capable of sinking below the level of innocence, and in its rudeness and wildness might lay the foundation of a ruder and more savage form of human life. It does not, however, exclude the influences of the Spirit, and can even, under its consecrations, receive continually increasing light.2 The Franciscans have represented the consecration of origin amidst which Mary entered the world, in the doctrine of the immaculate conception of the Virgin-a dogma which is the true type of a mediæval myth. Mary issued from the theocratic race, which was consecrated by the Spirit, at the time when it had attained its highest development. In her person, the mutual penetration of flesh and spirit, the consecration of matter, had attained its highest power; and it was under such conditions that the birth of ‘that holy thing,’ in which the Word was to become flesh, took place. But the form of generation, even at the climax of its consecration, is not to be placed on a level with the formation of a human being taking place in the pure element of human inspiration, under the agency of the divine power. That inspiration of Mary, under which Christ was conceived and born, is represented as a permanent elevation of mind; hence her song of praise is not introduced, like that of Zacharias, with the words: She was filled with the Holy Ghost. She was continually filled with the Holy Ghost in these glorious days of her visitation. Our due estimation of the uniqueness of Christ’s origin depends on our appreciation of the contrast which such a state of inspiration presents to what is obscure, enslaved, and often selfish in ordinary generation.1 Natural generation not only always entails an incongruence between flesh and spirit, such as must be shown to be annulled in the principle of Christianity, but must result in a particularity in the being begotten, such as must not appear in the new spiritual head of mankind. Not to mention the contamination of disease derived from their natural life, the curse of an evil disposition in their blood inherited in his blood, each descendant receives from his father and mother, through the reception into his own life of a proportion of the several partialnesses of theirs, a character which is both limited and infected with peculiarities; hence he can be but a single member in the organism of humanity, nay, he must be such; and it is with reference to this his destination that his peculiar gift, his province, his virtue exists. But for this very reason, no mere son of Joseph could, as the head of mankind, include the whole race. None but the Son of Mary, conceived by the divine operation, could, as the Son of man, become the spiritual head of humanity.2 With the birth of this second man, the first æon of the human race, that of natural human life, terminated, and its second æon, that of spiritual human life, began. The opponents of the doctrine of the miraculous birth of Christ cannot comprehend this idea, because they do not comprehend the general sublimity of reality, the ascending series of reality, the succession of æons which are ever exhibiting increasingly glorious spheres of life and manifestations of God’s power. According to their view, we are now in the midst of that course of unalterable conformity to law, on the part of nature and of life, which is utterly unsusceptible of modification. The progress of natural laws is like an immeasurable railroad, without beginning or end. We ourselves are in the train, without remembrance of the beginning or hope of the end, and they who should alight would be crushed by the inexorable wheels. Such monotony and necessity is, however, no faithful type of the world of the Christian, nay, not even of the world of the geologist, who has a faint glimmer of the æon, in the relation of the present world to that insular primitive world in which gigantic amphibii, perhaps the ancient dragons and griffins, grotesquely sported among the marshy primitive islands. A second and higher form of life then appeared in place of the first, and geologists allow us a better prospect of a third than many theologians. It is upon the massive and firm basis of a succession of æons that the New Testament develops its plan of the world. This is entirely æonic in its nature. It soars on eagles’ wings towards heaven, and does not travel by the railroad of a mechanical philosophy along an interminable plain. The æon is a period of creation produced by and developing a new principle which forms its rhythm; it is the inner clock, the spring which is in all that is developed in vital progression. This period is at the same time an eternity, a special manifestation of the eternal. The æon begins with a principle which in a miraculous manner breaks through, seizes, and elevates into its own higher life, the former æonically developed sphere of life. Thus Adam was the principle of the first æon of mankind; thus Christ was that of the second. To him, therefore, who can rise to the æon doctrine of the New Testament, the reason of Christ’s miraculous birth will be manifest. Even the heathen had some notions of this miracle, because they had an obscure perception of hereditary curse and inherited blessing, of desecrating or consecrating generation. They dreamed in significant myths of the Son of the Virgin; Hercules and Romulus, Pythagoras and Plato, as well as many others, were esteemed sons of gods. These dreams were types of the Coming One.1 When Isaiah spoke of the Virgin’s Son, whom he represented as a sign from God to his unbelieving sovereign (Isaiah 7:14), he expressed in his prophetic saying concerning the virginity of the mother and the consecration of her Son, who was to be called Immanuel, the mystery of that spiritual consecration of births, whose perfected fruit was to appear in the birth of Jesus. Many relatively virgin, that is, theocratically consecrated births, were to form the ascending series by which the miraculous birth of Christ was brought about. More and more virgin-like were the dispositions in which the noblest daughters of the theocracy became mothers; more and more divinely consecrated were the sons, who might be considered the produce of the most elevated theocratic dispositions; and ever more and more were these, the noblest children of Israel, conceived and born amidst the aspirations and hopes of their mothers to bring forth the Messiah, or at least a preliminary Messiah, a hero of God anointed with the Spirit. This was the consecration to whose working in Israel Isaiah referred, when he made the virgin-mother a sign of deliverance, and fore-appointed for her new-born son the name of Immanuel. At the termination of this continual consecration which took place along the line of Israel, the Virgin and her Son were to appear. notes 1. To avoid a partial view of the origin of spiritual, vital phenomena, it is needful always to distinguish between their historical and ideal origin. Every individual has his historic origin in his genealogy (Traducianism); his ideal origin in the direct realization of the divine idea of his life (Creatianism).1 According to the former, an individual is a result of an infinite series of causes; according to the latter, a new and isolated being, a new divine thought, a singularity, destined, as an individual, to become, as a person, a celebrity. It is the historic origin of Christ with which we have hitherto been occupied. His antecedents begin in paradise. Christ is the seed of the woman, the express image of God, the development of that which had been defined as the image of God in the disposition of the first man. Religion is the first and most general form of the coming of Christ; God manifests Himself in man, man lays hold on God. But this piety on the part of man was at first uncaused, and consequently uncertain. Religion was shaken, obscured, and rendered for the most part passive, by the fall. It retained, however, a fundamental feature of activity. This became dead in Abraham. Man again laid hold on God in His word; God again called man by his faith. This was the second form of the coming of Christ, or the first stage of Christology in fallen humanity, the era of the promise. Then followed the era of the law. In the law, the mediator-prophet traced for the covenant people the first lineaments of Christ’s life;-in the moral law, the lineaments of His deeds; in the ceremonial, the lineaments of His sufferings. The law pronounced a curse upon the transgressor, and thereby prophesied a blessing in the Coming One, who would perfectly conform to it. It was placed over the people, but its essence lay in the life of the people. Nor did this essence consist alone in the prophet who was the mediator of the covenant, but also in the covenant feeling of the people, and the covenant dealings of God with them. Thus was the era of the prophets introduced. This was the era of the commencement of the real incarnation of God in His people. The covenant people shone with the brightness of the increase (Werden) of Christ among them, that is, in the inspired frames and announcements of their prophets. The flower had fully expanded, but now the blossom vanished, and the silent period of the formation of fruit followed. The theocratic life began, as an inner life, to seize upon and penetrate the people to its very core, and the period of popular christological life, especially under the Maccabees, appeared. Finally, the last stage of historic instrumentality occurred, the stage of the concentration of the christological formation in the life of Mary. Without an appreciation of this historic instrumentality, we cannot attain to a clear recognition of the conformity to law manifested in the miraculous element of the life of Christ. We should, however, be entangled in misunderstandings of equal importance, by losing sight of the ideal in the historic origin of Christ. According to His ideal origin, He is not the Son of David, but the Son of God. In Him, the express image of God, the fulness of His being is manifested. The Son of God is, with reference to the Father, the expression, the character (Hebrews 1:3) of His being; with reference to the world, the motive for which it was produced (Colossians 1:15-16), according to the ideal significance of its nature; with reference to the relation between God and the world, the Logos, the Word in which the revelation of God and the spiritual enlightenment of the world is clearly expressed. Christian dogmatism has sought clearly to express the ideality of Christ’s origin, by decidedly holding that the divine Word did not take the person, but the nature of man. See Hase, Lehrbuch der evang. Dogmatik, p. 272. The decisions arrived at are in accordance with Scripture, in so far as they are calculated to exclude human limitation, speciality, and partialness from the individuality of Christ; but inasmuch as they trench too much upon His human individuality, they are akin to Monophysitism. 2. The Evangelist Matthew (Matthew 1:22) refers the passage Isaiah 7:14, concerning the Virgin and her Son Immanuel, to the birth of Christ, with the words: ‘All this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel; which, being interpreted, is God with us.’ For discussions on this passage, see Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. i. p. 174. For its right understanding, it is necessary first to obtain a due estimate of the historical import and occasion of these words. Isaiah is giving a sign that the Lord will deliver the land from the attacks of the kings of Israel and Syria. He gives the sign to the house of David, after it had been hypocritically deprecated by king Ahaz, that the ‘virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name God with us;’ and adds, that ‘before the child shall know to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land that thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of both her kings.’ It cannot be misunderstood that Isaiah is here speaking of a child who was to be born in the immediate future. The rejoicing of the land in this future is denoted by two incidents. First, the virgin, as soon as her child is born, shall express the disposition of the best in the land by the name she will give to her son: God with us! And then, when the child begins to awaken to moral consciousness, all danger will have disappeared. The rationalistic critic, however, insists upon making this immediate reference the exclusive one; and he thus explains the sign: ‘Prosaically expressed, before nine months have elapsed, the condition of the land shall be more hopeful, and within about three years the danger will have disappeared.’ The reference to Jesus, it is subsequently said, is pressed upon the prophet by the Evangelist (Strauss, Leben Jesu, vol. i. p. 180). The ‘prosaic’ explainer should not have forgotten that history is quite peculiar in Israel. First, it is worthy of remark, that the prophet turns from the unbelieving individual, and speaks to the house of David. Then the sign is at all events strangely chosen. The young woman (òÇìÀîÈä) in question is still a virgin, or at any rate has not yet conceived. Now it is fore-announced, (1) that she shall conceive, (2) that she shall bear a son, and (3) that she shall have the theocratic courage to call his name Immanuel. The choice of such a sign must certainly be regarded as Messianic, by those who clearly perceive the difference between Messianic types and prophecies. The theocrat, filled as his mind is with anticipations, unconsciously forms prophetic types; for it certainly accords with the progress of that life which was perfected in Christ, that the sprouting leaf should unconsciously prophesy of the coming flower. The highest kind of types are those typical frames of mind found in the Messianic psalms, and to this class the present passage undoubtedly belongs. Prophecies, strictly so called, are conscious predictions; the more general kind are unconscious, yet nevertheless prophecies in types. First of all, the Alma, the Israelite virgin, who by her theocratic consecration carries virginity into marriage, is significant. This incident is that which is properly typical, the very nerve of the passage; it is ethic virginity, which in its progress brings to maturity the salvation of Israel. The next is a : she shall bear a son. The third belongs to prophecy strictly so called: she shall call him, God with us. The courage of that period shall be manifested by her disposition. Rightly did Matthew perceive the fulfilment of this prophetic and presentient expression, when the Virgin Mary brought forth the Son that had been promised her in a stable, amidst the machinations of Herod, and had the courage, in spite of the circumstances under which he was born, to call His name : the help of God, the salvation of God. (Comp. my work Ueber den geschichtlichen Charakter der kanon. Evangelien, p. 62.) 3. With respect to the psychology of the matter in question, theology is as little bound to explain the origin of Christ in the spiritualization of His mother, as the origin of Adam in the spiritualization of the earth. The striking natural analogies which occur in the usual course of nature are of a morbid kind. Physicians have spoken of a ‘fœtus formation, or growth of a human embryo, in a male or immature female body.’ See Hamburger, Entwurf eines naturl. Systems der Medizin, p. 368. ‘The sufficiency of a single individual for procreation is a law with the lower animals, and cannot therefore be directly denied to the higher. Hence such sufficiency must certainly be an internal property with them:’ p. 369. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 61: 02.052. SECTION V ======================================================================== SECTION V mary and elisabeth (Matthew 1:1-25; Luke 1:1-80) Astrologers, in their superstitious enthusiasm for remote and subtle influences in nature, were wont to say much of the influence of the stars upon the births and fates of men. There are, however, stars which have the greatest influence upon the lives of those who are about to see the light of day, namely, the dispositions of their mothers. In this respect, we are justified in asserting that Jesus was born under the happiest star. Mary’s frame of mind seems to have been a wonderfully elevated one, a continuous inspiration. This inspiration, however, was, in conformity with its circumstances, of the profoundest kind. The saintly pallor of priestly melancholy, and the joyful glow of royal victory, successively lit up her sacred countenance. The experiences of the mother under whose heart the Lord lay were so peculiar, and called forth such states of mind, that the holy vibration of her soul between deepest sorrow and sublimest joy, could not but communicate to His temperament the purest seriousness and the profoundest happiness, blended in the wondrous harmony of a most sacred disposition. Mary had surrendered and entrusted herself to the care of God in the great hour of her visitation. She was afterwards assured in spirit that she was a mother. It was impossible, however, for her to conceal her experience from her betrothed, the carpenter Joseph. At all events, she could not leave Nazareth for months without discovering her condition to him. She might thereby have led him to misinterpret the reason of her journey, and have deceived him. In her peculiar situation, it seemed, moreover, a simple moral duty to initiate him into the mystery; nay, to give him up, in case he could not share her faith. The communication would naturally be a test at a critical moment, a test of his faith. Joseph refused to believe her. He encountered the modest, but unshakeably firm virgin with decided doubt; the first Ebionite. He was, however, far more excusable than his successors, who reject all the testimony of God to the glory of Christ’s origin. If he were to stand by Mary, he must be able to answer for her; for this, however, he needed direct testimony from God. At all events, he would not receive her without such authentication. The only thing he conceded, was an alleviation of the form of separation. According to Israelite law, a betrothed man was obliged to honour his betrothed as a wife, if he desired to separate from her. He might not put her away without giving her a writing of divorcement. In giving this writing of divorcement, he had, however, the choice between two forms. He might therein state the reasons for which he put away his wife, might state her guilt, and thereby expose her to public shame; or he might keep his reasons to himself, and thus put her away without reproach. Joseph was a just man, and decided upon the latter form of putting Mary away. The words, he was a just man, are usually taken to mean, he was a kind one. But this is unconsciously to assume that, in every case, extreme harshness is extreme justice; a false assumption. If Joseph would have put Mary away without reproach because he was just, we learn from this circumstance that he had a tender conscience, and could not dare publicly to accuse Mary as guilty. In the inmost depths of his heart her image found an advocate; it had acquired a veneration which now raised a doubt against his suspicions. Hence he could only say that he would have nothing to do with her; but his feeling of justice prevented him from accusing her. The gloss which would here give to the word just the sense of kind, destroys the whole point of the narrative. The Virgin did not need to entreat from Joseph’s compassion that he should put her away without reproach, she could expect it from his justice; and it was precisely his delicate perception of what was just in this case, which made his justice so honourable.1 Mary then stood alone. Mistaken and rejected by her betrothed, she had the prospect of bringing up her child amidst the scorn of the Nazarenes, which would, in her position, be abundantly bestowed upon her, even if Joseph dismissed her without reproach. The most tender maidenly feeling that ever blushed upon a human countenance, was threatened with unlimited misconception and disgrace. But her heart was firm; she had offered up her life to God; she was sure of His guidance and assistance. Under her circumstances, however, she could not continue in Nazareth. It was the effect of the promise which was gladdening her soul, that turned her desires towards the hill country of Judah. Upon its heights a light was shining for her: her kinswoman Elisabeth, with whose wonderful condition she was acquainted. If there were yet one being on earth who would not misconceive and reject her, it must be Elisabeth, who had been called by the Lord as well as herself. Following, therefore, the impulse of her heart, Mary set out for the hills of Judah. They who have felt the rapid transition from unspeakable sorrow to peace, in a soul which must bring before God, and merge in God’s appointment, its whole world, its very life; they who have, in some decisive moment of their life, felt that nameless and blessed melancholy or godly sorrow, whose emblem is the white rose,-can form some idea of the disposition in which the lonely and rejected Mary, so poor, and yet so rich in the happy secret of her heart, took her journey of about four days towards her longed-for destination. This journey was not perhaps entirely in accordance with the forms of Old Testament decorum; but the reality of the cross she bore, bestowed upon her a New Testament liberty. Nothing can make a man bear more proudly and firmly the world’s misjudgment, than the consciousness of that highest honour, the bearing of reproach for God’s sake. It was under great and heavy anxiety of mind that Mary hastened towards her destination, like a ship, threatened with tempest, setting full sail for the harbour. Upon this journey she would pass the hill of Golgotha. The nearer she drew to the dwelling of the aged priest, the more must the question have arisen in her heart: Will thy innocence and thy faith here find an asylum; wilt thou here find a heart that understands thy vocation and thy way? We are not surprised that her salutation should burst from her overburdened heart at her very entry, and seek out her friend in her house. It was the cry of need, or rather the painful exclamation of excited confidence yearning for love, with which the misunderstood Virgin sought for a welcome from her friend, the urgent demand of the highly exalted suppliant for the sympathy of a consecrated and initiated heart, a heart which could believe the miracle. Certainly a special electric force of sorrow and of faith lay in this exclamation. Elisabeth knew the voice before she saw Mary; she felt the shock of its tones, her child leaped beneath her leaping heart, she understood her friend’s frame of mind, and felt what kind of welcome she stood in need of. The outpouring of the Spirit, in which Mary was living, came upon her soul, and she exclaimed with a loud voice: ‘Blessed art thou among women! and blessed is the fruit of thy womb! And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For, lo, as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.’ To every messenger of God, who has at any time some great message, some instruction, or announcement from God to bring, the misconception which he has generally to endure at first is a heavy trial. It is difficult to maintain the heart’s assurance of a revelation, which has as yet obtained no citizenship in the world, against the antipathy of the world and the reproach of fanaticism. Hence the first echo of recognition, of acknowledgment, which the misunderstood prophet finds in the world, is to his heart like a greeting from heaven, a seal of his assurance, a sacrament. Thus was Mary now raised, as it were, by the greeting of her friend, from the depths of the grave to heaven. The joy of faith, so long repressed by sadness and sore anxiety, burst forth, and she rejoiced aloud in a glad song of praise.1 ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He hath regarded the lowliness of His handmaiden.’ Thus does she begin, and then her song of praise streams forth in announcements which may be regarded as expressive of the form which the Gospel had attained in her heart. All men receive one and the same Gospel. And yet the Gospel is different to each, and takes a special form from the disposition and circumstances of each individual. When the atonement is viewed and represented only in its generality, without taking into account its reference to the actual state of the individual man, i.e., to the manner in which it annuls the special curse of his life, the Gospel is made an abstraction, and is not viewed in the fulness of its results. It is highly instructive and elevating to see how the Gospel, at the very beginning of the New Testament, assumes in each redeemed soul the aspect of a special glory. To Simeon, the atonement becomes the assurance of a happy departure; while the aged Anna forsakes her solitude, and goes about as an evangelist among the pious in Jerusalem. It is with true womanly feeling that Mary says: ‘All generations shall call me blessed.’ But this is not because of what she is, but because of the great things the Lord, whose name is holy, has done for her. She next proclaims the great laws of His kingdom. He scatters the proud. He puts down the mighty from their seats, He exalts them of low degree. He fills the hungry with good things, He sends the rich empty away. He has now helped His servant Israel, remembering His everlasting covenant with Abraham and his seed. As a lowly daughter of the house of David, Mary had often, and more than ever during her journey from Nazareth to the town of Zacharias, experienced the lot of the poor, the despised, the oppressed, and especially of those rejected ones who bear in their hearts the nobility of a higher vocation, of deeper reflection, and greater devotedness of life. She must, during this journey, have looked upon herself as a princess of such rejected ones. But now, through the greeting of her friend, she attained a higher assurance, that the grace of God had very highly exalted and would glorify her. She now saw the whole world glitter in the sunshine of that grace which raises the rejected; that realm of glory to which God elevates the humble and lowly was now displayed before her eyes. She had a presentiment of the Good Friday and Easter Day of her Son. Some have insisted that Mary’s song of praise is derived from that of Hannah (1 Samuel 1:1-28) But the two songs only need to be compared to arrive at the conviction that Mary’s is thoroughly original; although it shows, by certain free reminiscences, that, as a pious Israelite woman, she was acquainted with the song of Hannah, who had been in a condition somewhat similar. It has further been asserted that songs of praise, such as these, are not directly produced among the events of actual life, but are only the artistic reproduction of that life. But here it may be asked, how much poetic power may be attributed to human life? For Christologists who recognize the ideal height of humanity in the history of Jesus, it is certain that the poetry with which human life is everywhere else penetrated, as the ore is by the precious metal, could not but appear here in its purest state. There are countries where the vine grows wild, countries where roses are indigenous, countries where song is the natural expression of joyful emotion; and here we have found that elevated region, where the hymn comes forth in its perfect form, in the midst of actual life.1 Mary remained three months with her friend. That she should have stayed so long, and yet have left without waiting till Elisabeth’s delivery, points to a change in her relations with Joseph. As the absent always become more dear, and the dead perfect, so did the image of Mary grow fairer in his mind after her departure. The impression which she had made upon him was one so pure and holy, that the Spirit of God would increasingly justify it to his mind. He must now have considered himself blameable, nay, harsh, and a conflict must have arisen within him. Such a state of mind was the immediate cause of the revelation now vouchsafed unto him. Even a dream may become the instrument of a divine communication. In circumstances when the daily life of pious men is devoted more to the concerns of the world, the susceptibility of their minds for divine things would be more easily concentrated during the season of night, as the night violet emits its fragrance during the darkness. In this case, dreams become, in critical circumstances, a mirror for the reflection of divine visions. It was also natural that Joseph, the worthy artizan, should receive his revelations in dreams. The directions he received so agitated him, that he awoke, and communicated to him such assurance, such an impulse to set his misconceived bride at rest, that rising from sleep, he immediately sought her out. This seems clearly enough to point to a journey. He arose early in the morning, brought her home ‘to her house’ (Luke 1:56), and treated her till her delivery with reverential tenderness, as one dedicated to a more exalted destiny. Thus did the Lord, in due time, reward the confidence of Mary, and preserve her honour. This fact was, at the same time, a great victory won by the Gospel over ancient precept in the heart of the carpenter. The miracles of the New Testament times penetrated his lower life, and elevated him to true Israelite feeling. In intercourse with Mary, he also found his blessing, his gospel. The childhood of the great Prince of man and the Redeemer of the world was to be passed under the care and protection of an honest artizan. Thus was mere worth ennobled, and the dignity of handicraft honoured in its inner relation to the true purposes of the kingdom of God. The priest brought up the King’s herald, but the artizan protected with his honest hand the great King Himself during the tender years of childhood. It was at about this time that Elisabeth brought forth her promised son. The wonderful nature of this event, her happiness, which proclaimed the mercy of God, spread great joy among her kinsfolk and neighbours. When the child was eight days old, the festival of his circumcision was kept. The guests were anxious to give him the name of Zacharias; but his mother Elisabeth earnestly opposed it. Zacharias was appealed to for decision; by signs he asked for a writing-table, and then wrote the name of John! the favour of God, the pledge of God’s favour. With this announcement his soul was freed from the reproach which had oppressed it, his tongue from the mysterious ethic tie or ban by which it had been enchained. The song of praise which Zacharias now uttered had been so gradually and certainly matured in his soul, that, like Mary, he could not forget it again. His song pointed out the form of his faith; it was the expression of the Gospel as it resounded within his own heart. It was a truly priestly view that Zacharias took of the reconciliation and glorification of the world in the advent of Messiah. The coming Christ appeared to him as the true altar of safety, the refuge of His people. In future, the people of God, delivered from their enemies, would be ever at liberty to perform the true, real service of God, the worship which would glorify Him. This was the delight of his priestly heart. But it was the delight of his paternal heart that his child should be the herald of the Lord, in whom grace was to appear even to those who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. Such is the matter of his song of praise. And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit. The youthful Nazarite grew up to his calling in the lonely hill country. The time was soon to come when he would be shown to and produce a vast effect upon the whole nation of Israel. notes 1. When critics insist (comp. Strauss, Leben Jesu, i. 165) that the angel must have brought to Joseph in a dream a revelation connected with that formerly communicated to Mary, must have reproached Joseph with his unbelief, and have thought it superfluous to tell him the name of the child, having already done so to Mary, they speak unintentionally for the reality of the said communications. For it is not in the nature of a dream to maintain a practical appearance. If, then, a revelation should take the form of a dream, it must renounce the condition of practicality. It must also renounce conformity to the law of economy, and to that prudence of critics which would rather blend several dream-visions in one (Id. p. 261). Criticism would rather have depicted practical dreams. But in so doing it would have destroyed the nature of the dream. Macbeth ‘slays holy sleep;’ criticism, the holy dream. 2. Strauss makes an inaccurate quotation when he says, ‘It is quite clear that εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα (Matthew 1:18) points to a discovery without Mary’s acquiescence.’ The passage runs, εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου,-she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Was this found without Mary’s acquiescence? What justified the author in omitting the closer definition of the sentence? 3. Strauss and Bruno Bauer insist upon pressing upon Luke 1:14 the view, that the leaping of the babe in her womb first revealed to Elisabeth that Mary was selected to be the mother of the Messiah. On the other hand, they combat the notion that the emotion of the mother would, by the effect it produced upon her organism, occasion the leaping of the child. According to this assumption, the text would have run: As soon as the unborn child heard the salutation, it leaped. Elisabeth hears the salutation-Mary’s salutation: can any one deny her emotion? The child leaps: can any one deny the connection of its leaping with its mother’s emotion? Elisabeth views this leaping in the poetic element of her own frame of mind, and this sublime, transparent, healthy poetry is transformed into a supernaturalistic formula, according to which the movement of the unborn child is said to reveal to its mother the dignity of Mary. This text is thus made to say, that the mother understood nothing of the spirit of the salutation; that the fruit of her body understood it immediately; and then that the leaping of this fruit of the same mother who found nothing in the salutation of her friend, was a plain revelation to her that this friend should bring forth the Messiah. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 62: 02.053. SECTION VI ======================================================================== Section VI the birth of jesus at bethlehem (Luke 2:1-52) When Mary already saw the time of her approaching delivery at hand, she had occasion to travel to Bethlehem with her husband. The occasion was a civil duty. According to the command of the government, which had ordained a taxation of the inhabitants of Palestine, Joseph was obliged to betake himself to Bethlehem, the town of his family, to be there registered according to his name and property. Mary was also subject to this registration.1 According to the Gospel (Luke 2:1-2), this taxing was decreed by the Emperor Augustus; it was the first which had taken place in Judea, and happened when Cyrenius was governor in Syria. We here encounter a great and much canvassed difficulty.1 How, it is first asked, could Augustus decree this taxing in Palestine, when king Herod, though dependent upon Rome, still governed the country? And how comes Cyrenius to be mentioned, who, according to Josephus, did not come to Palestine till about ten years later, and that in order to complete the taxing? It is further asked, Why were Mary and Joseph obliged to travel to Bethlehem, when a Roman enrolment required no such change of locality? And finally, Why was Mary obliged to accompany her husband on this journey? We must first repeat, that we consider Mary the authority for the history of Jesus’ childhood. It is probable that Luke had a narrative by her of the journey to Bethlehem, which he introduced into his own work. In this narrative Mary would express herself according to the political views of an elevated female mind, overlooking the immediate authors of a public measure, and referring it to that supreme power which, though it kept in the background, was actually its author. Herod, the dependent prince, disappeared from the view of the narrator, who, from the point of view afforded by mental observation of the state of the world, was contemplating the source of the great political measures taking place in Palestine. Hence, in grand and womanly style, she named the Emperor Augustus as the originator of the decree of Herod, that a census should take place in Palestine.2 Luke, the compiler of the narrative, would not, in his earnest truthfulness, alter this account. He knew, however, that this taxing formed part of a general undertaking, first completed by Cyrenius some years afterwards. He therefore inserts, by way of correction, the words: The taxing itself took place when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.3 Subsequently the word αὐôὴ, whose signification was no longer understood, was read αὕôç, i.e., instead of: the taxing itself-this taxing.1 That king Herod could not but allow the organic movements which took place in the Romish state2 to prevail in his realm, was but natural.3 It was quite in accordance with the character of the times that a registration should take place. But when a king instituted such a taxing, the Jewish national feeling would oblige him to carry it out according to Hebrew genealogical order.4 Is it still asked, Why Mary accompanied Joseph? We do not know for certain whether she was obliged to be personally present at the enrolment; it is probable that, as a virgin, she desired to represent the house of her father.5 At all events, the expression of the Evangelist seems to point out that she was subjected to the same ceremony as her husband. Thus much, however, is quite certain, that there was no law which obliged her to remain at home. She was now more than ever in need of the care of Joseph. But not this circumstance alone would impel her to decide on accompanying him. Her heart yearned towards Bethlehem. This town had of late become the object of her earthly desires. We cannot be surprised if the theocratic life in her bosom should have made the beloved city of her fathers the object of sacred desire to her maternal feelings. A wish henceforth to dwell there might already have been matured in her mind, since, after her return from Egypt she and Joseph were at first resolved upon so doing. The poetic glory of the city of David could have beamed more brightly in no Jewish heart than in hers, especially at this time, when the hope of David’s house was reflected in the happy anticipations and yearning of her mind. If the life of the child were reflected in the life of the mother, wondrous poetic, child-like, and elevated desires would arise within her. Bethlehem was Mary’s desire.1 The travellers had not been long in Bethlehem when the hour of Mary’s delivery arrived, and she brought forth her first-born son.2 According to an ancient tradition, reported by Justin Martyr, the place of the nativity was a cave, still shown in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem.3 It is very possible that this building leant against the side of a hill. Others suppose that it was in the manger of the caravanserai of Bethlehem that the child was born.4 A caravanserai, however, would be a place entirely inappropriate for such an event as a birth. The usual representations would have us seek the new-born Saviour in a stable. The Evangelist distinguishes the manger (or the stall, φάτνη) as a separate place from the inn (κατάλυμα). In Palestine, as in all patriarchal districts, there are huts in which the boundaries between the stable and the room, the dwelling of man and the dwelling of the cattle, are not very clearly defined. In such a hut this noble pair seem to have found a shelter. The contrast between the eternal majesty and lowly appearance of Christ has ever struck mankind, edified Christendom, and exercised a sanctifying influence upon the world. The Prince of heaven, though rich, became poor, to make our poor world rich. That the Son of God should have appeared in such poverty, glorifies, on one hand, His divinity, on the other, human poverty. Divine love appears in its most surprising aspect in this submission to humanity. Humanity, even in a state of poverty, thus becomes sacred. The child in the manger is not exposed to poverty of mind because he is so poor in outward circumstances. His mother calls his name Jesus, God’s salvation for the world. This glorification of poverty is at the same time a glorification of human nature itself. How far has the modern view of the world sunk in the tendency of many minds below this Christian view of life! When poverty is cursed, the honour of free human personality is unconsciously cursed. Christ is a child of the poor traveller, born upon a journey, and, according to common ideas, in extreme want. He was first cradled in a manger. Yet Christ saved and infinitely enriched the world. But it is not only the contrast of the ideal elevation of Christ with the lowliness of this scene of His birth which is thus striking, but also the relations in which the historical elevation of the holy family stands to its first entrance into the history of the world. The carpenter Joseph, under whose care and civil fatherhood Jesus was placed, according to the counsel of God, was descended from the house of David. The Evangelist Matthew has given us his genealogy in a solemn and significant compilation, in a symmetrical arrangement of circumstances, significantly expressing the tragic course of David’s line. After the first fourteen generations, the line attains to kingly dignity. In the next fourteen, it fills the high position of the royal house. In the last fourteen, we see its fall from secular royal dignity; and Mary’s husband, the carpenter, as foster-father of the poor yet royal child, stands at the close of this series.1 Mary also was of the tribe of Judah. Many have indeed believed her to have been of the tribe of Levi, because she is described (Luke 1:36) as a relation of Elisabeth, who was of the race of Aaron. Israelites were, however, allowed to marry into other than their paternal tribes (Numbers 36:2). The mother, therefore, of Elisabeth might have descended from the family of Mary,1 or the relationship might have existed in some other manner. The Apostle Paul decidedly says of Christ, that He was of the house of David (Romans 1:3). In the angelic annunciation, it is said of Christ, The Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of His father David (Luke 1:32)-a promise which, being addressed to Mary, by whom He was to be brought forth, must here be understood in a genealogical sense. And her union with Joseph is in accordance with this. Joseph was of the race of David; a circumstance leading to the conclusion that Mary was also descended from that king. For the marriage between Joseph and Mary exhibits very plainly the patriarchal characteristic of being caused by family relations. It would be far more difficult to comprehend, if regarded as a purely ideal and free one between children of different tribes. Hence it has from the very first been natural to regard the genealogy given by Luke as that of Mary. The sole difficulty presented by this view, is the fact that the names of Zerubbabel and Salathiel appear in both lines. This may, however, be explained by a temporary coincidence of the two genealogies, resulting from the ordinance of the Levirate law of marriage.2 On the other hand, this view is peculiarly adapted to remove many more important difficulties. It offers the most simple explanation of the differences between the two genealogical tables, the turn of expression by which Luke designates Joseph as the merely ostensible father of Christ, and the carrying back of the line of Jesus to Adam. Luke, according to the character of his Gospel, was desirous of giving the genealogy of the Son of man. We cannot then but suppose that he obtained the genealogy of the mother of Jesus. He so far sacrifices to custom as to mention Joseph; but the very manner in which this is done, points out his true relation to Jesus and Heli, the living means of connection between these latter being Mary. If Luke were, in his characteristic vein, announcing the nobility of mankind, when deriving the descent of Jesus from Adam, and the divinity of the origin of mankind, by referring the life of Adam to God, everything would, in such a genealogy, depend upon the reality of the natural succession. Only the historical descent of the mother of Jesus could be of any importance in such a view of the genealogy of Jesus. In accordance with this supposition, even Jewish tradition has designated Heli as the father of Mary.3 It was a sad and tragic circumstance, that the daughter of David, the mother of the King in whom that great promise concerning Bethlehem was to be fulfilled, ‘Whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting,’ should return in so poor and unknown a condition to the cradle of her race. The country was already dependent upon the world-wide power of Rome; the will of its emperor obliged this royal Jewish family to travel under the most trying circumstances, and brought them to the poor inn of Bethlehem, which suffered them to appear in a mendicant-like condition. The child whom Jewish anticipation had adorned with all the splendour of supreme worldly power was born in a stable-like hut, and cradled in a manger, while the despotic Edomite sat upon the throne of His fathers, and governed Israel. But the new-born babe was no pretender; the old world was not His inheritance, but a new and lovelier world, which He brought with Him, in His heart. The tragic shadows falling in a worldly point of view upon the holy family, do but give greater brilliancy to that divine relationship and spiritual glory in which it announced and brought in a new future raised above the curse. The beginnings of this new world play, like celestial lights, with marvellous splendour around the hard cradle of the Holy Child, and glorify His appearing. note As far as the relation of the genealogies in Matthew and Luke to the doctrine of Christ’s descent from David is concerned, it must first be firmly laid down, that this doctrine is entirely independent of their construction. In a genuine and powerful family tradition, the tradition is not supported by the genealogy, but the genealogy by the tradition. Such genealogies may, under special juridical occurrences, become decisive documents, but the tradition satisfies the unprejudiced disposition of the world. If the family of Mary had made legitimist pretensions to the crumbling throne of Herod, our ‘criticism’ would perhaps be justified in taking upon itself the task of a herald’s college and testing the genealogies, and on the discovery of traces of a suspicious kind, in pronouncing them invalid or doubtful. But it must then have a thorough knowledge of the science of heraldry, and a feeling for those embellishments and methods of treatment by which genealogical trees are often somewhat interrupted in their natural growth. Matthew seems to have been such a genealogist, in the highest historical style. The shadow of the curse and the light of the blessing play upon the whole of his genealogy. Luke, on the contrary, is a genealogist of the ideal style. With holy feeling does his genealogy trace the descent of Christ past David and Abraham to Adam. That Christ is the Son of man, the Son of God, and the Son of David, is the fundamental principle upon which both genealogies were written. That it is absurd to admit the idea of mythic genealogies in a Jewish family, is evident from an estimation of the fundamental relations of Israel. The difference between the genealogies in question, has indeed been explained in another manner than by the fact that Luke communicates Mary’s, and Matthew, Joseph’s descent. The hypothesis of Julius Africanus, according to which, both exhibit the descent of Joseph, which receives its twofold character through the parallel descent of two lines, in two Levirate marriages, has obtained much credit.1 Apart, however, from the other difficulties which this view presents, it may be remarked, that it would militate against the great precision always observed by the Jews in their treatment of genealogical relations, to suffer an illegitimate descent to figure in the presence of the legitimate one. On the composition and mutual relation of the genealogical tables, compare in W. Hoffman’s das Leben Jesu, &c., the instructive section, the Genealogy of Jesus, p. 148, which gives an ingenious explanation of the circumstance that duplicate names appear in Luke’s genealogy, a phenomenon which Bruno Bauer has attempted to represent as bearing the impress of non-authenticity. The author ascribes Luke’s genealogy to Mary. ‘A genealogy of Joseph, adduced as a proof of the true human personality of Jesus, with the remark that he was not the true father of Jesus, and after the narrative of the supernatural conception, would have been utterly purposeless both to Jews and Gentiles; and either an extremely perplexing or an insincere act would be ascribed to the author by insisting that among the Jews it was only customary to give the genealogy of the husband. It was not that this was customary, but it was so, when giving that of the woman, to insert in her place in the table the name of her husband, whether he were the actual father of her son or not.’ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 63: 02.054. SECTION VII ======================================================================== SECTION VII the first homage, or the shepherds and the wise men When the first man entered the world, Nature surrounded his childhood in all the glory and bloom of her paradisaic constitution. The appearance of the natural man was solemnized in a natural paradise.2 The spiritual man was also surrounded by a paradise when He entered the world-by a paradise homogeneous to His nature, a paradise of New Testament dispositions. Of these dispositions He was Himself the principle. As the flower must be surrounded by its garland of leaves, and Adam by his paradise, so was the birth of Christ, the bodily manifestation of the Gospel, surrounded by a circle of inspired dispositions and revelations, of reflexes of the Gospel. The centre in which the union of divinity with humanity took place, spread around it a great vibration throughout the mental world; the birth of the Messiah was that heavenly note which called forth wondrous responsive echoes from every Messianically disposed heart. The Child in the, manger was therefore glorified by a circle of Messianic revelations.1 Even on the holy night of Christ’s birth, the shepherds of Bethlehem appeared in the abode of the holy family. They greeted the Holy Child, and then related the marvellous occurrence by which His importance had been made known to them. As they were keeping watch by night over their flocks in the fields, the angel of the Lord had appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord had shone round about them. The words point to a vision of the angel of the covenant; the incarnation of God had itself shed its light upon their souls. The Gospel which the angel of the Lord proclaimed to them, was just the Gospel for these shepherds. He announced to them great joy to all nations: Christ born in Bethlehem; their shepherd-town honoured as the city of David; the Saviour in the manger. Thereupon they heard the praises of the heavenly host. Their hearts were so exalted, their state of mind so raised above the world, that they were capable of hearing the hymns of heaven at the birth of Christ. This one occurrence, however, involves a threefold effect: glory to God is manifested in the highest; earth obtains the peace of heaven; among men the goodwill in which God receives and blesses mankind, has personally appeared.2 It may be said that the ancient festal song of the Christian Church Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, was derived from this revelation from heaven. As truly, too, may it be affirmed that it originated in the night-watches of the poor shepherds; it is the shepherd-lay of the Christian world. Mary kept all these things in her deep, faithful heart, and pondered on them in holy meditation. After this strange homage, however, one still more striking was offered to the new-born child, by the appearance of the Magi from the East. They probably arrived shortly after Christ’s birth, during one of the following nights. This may be inferred from the circumstance, that they entered, as the Evangelist at least seems to say, during the night-season, when the stars were visible in the heavens. Such an arrival at so unwonted an hour, points to a household whose usual domestic arrangements are still suspended by the novelty of a birth. The whole context, too, of the history leads to this conclusion. With their appearance is connected the flight of Mary and Joseph into Egypt. But this cannot well be misplaced after the presentation of Jesus in the temple, if we consider the remark of the Evangelist (Luke 2:39), that the parents of Jesus returned to Nazareth after this presentation, as a genuine one.1 They fell down before the Child, who was the object of their unexampled and peculiar veneration, and offered Him gifts emblematic of their homage, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The guidance which led the Magi to the birthplace of Christ, was a miracle of divine providence. It shows how that love of truth by which noble and candid minds are impelled, contributes, under God’s providence, to lead them with happy certainty to the true aim of their life, even if error should accidentally intermingle uncertain or even false assumptions; nay, how the preponderance of the spirit of truth converts even error into a means of promoting their progress towards the goal of knowledge. The Magi, according to the original meaning of the word, were either Median, or especially Persian scholars. In those times, the Persian view of the world had spread abroad through Syria and Arabia, and ‘Magi was the general name given to travelling astrologers, conjurers, and soothsayers.’2 Wise men of those days were sometimes accustomed to make long journeys to seek the treasures of wisdom in distant lands. Hence it would not be surprising if these Magi came from the most remote parts. They may, however, probably have dwelt not very far from Palestine, especially if they came directly eastward from Arabia to Bethlehem.3 But how came these heathen philosophers to expect the Messiah? In answering this question, too much reliance has been placed upon an uncertain historical notice, while a great, certain, actual relation has been ignored. Suetonius, in his Life of Vespasian (c. 4), relates that an ancient and definite expectation had spread throughout the East, that a ruler of the world would, at about that time, arise in Judea. Tacitus also similarly expresses himself (Hist. v. 13). It is, however, probable4 that both derived this notion from a passage in Josephus (De Bello Jud. vi. 5, 4). Josephus relates of the Jews besieged in Jerusalem, that what most induced them to rebel, was an ambiguous oracle in their sacred writings, declaring that at that time one going forth from their country would govern the world. This, says Josephus, they referred to a native, though it manifestly points to Vespasian, who was summoned from Judea to become emperor. Thus Josephus had merely the Messianic hopes of the besieged Jews in view, though it was not without perfidy that he referred the Old Testament foundation of this hope to Vespasian. It is, however, a world-wide fact, that the fame of the temple had spread through all the East;1 that the Jews, at the time of Christ, had already spread throughout the world;2 and that their religion had gained proselytes among the noblest and most susceptible spirits of the day. Nothing is more easy to account for, than that there should be noble-minded inquirers in Arabia, Syria, or Persia, in whom a receptive disposition had been kindled by the Messianic hopes of Israel, as by a spark from God, and had awakened great, though dim hopes and desires. To such a class of minds belonged also those Greeks who, according to John’s Gospel (12:20), desired to become acquainted with the Messiah. The Magi believed that they had received, in their native land, a sign that the King of the Jews, who had obtained in their view a religious significance, was born. They had seen His star. If we suppose that they looked upon a star as the sign of the Messiah in an astrological sense, we must think of a constellation as directing them. The astrologer, as such, deals with a constellation, while in a constellation the chief matter is the relation in which one star stands to the others.3 If this fundamental principle of astrology had not been lost sight of, such various notions would not have been entertained concerning the phenomenon of the Magi; nor could it have been considered at one time a meteor, at another a comet, at another the exclusive appearance of a new star.4 Nor could it have been remarked that if a constellation of stars were here meant, a star could not have been spoken of. The astrologer has to do with a star which belongs to his hero; the meaning, however, of this star is made known to him by the position it occupies in the constellation. The renowned astronomer Kepler has shown,5 that in the year 747 after the building of Rome, a very remarkable triple conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn took place; that in the spring of the following year, the planet Mars also was added to them; and has declared it very probable, that an extraordinary star may have been added to these three superior planets, as happened in the year 1603. Kepler considers this remarkable conjunction to have been the star of the wise men. Ideler the chronologist further improved upon his view. Wieseler refers to it with the remark, that, according to a notice of Mnter, it is reported in the Chinese astronomical tables, that a new star appeared at a time corresponding with the fourth year before the birth of Christ. All chronological notices referring to the birth of Christ lead, according to Wieseler’s calculations, to the conclusion that Jesus was born in the year 750 after the building of Rome (four years before the birth of Christ according to the ordinary computation), and most probably in the month of February. This conjunction, however, took place in the year 747 and 748, and therefore two years earlier. Hence the Magi undoubtedly looked upon one star of this conjunction as the star of the Messiah. If they consequently judged as astrologers, it does not follow that the result could not have corresponded with their view. It would be a terrible tenet concerning divine providence, to assert that it could not suffer a sincere love of truth to gain its end, if it should accidentally proceed on false or uncertain premisses. Astronomy, e.g., certainly arose from astrology, chemistry from alchemy; and the Son of man Himself came after the flesh, of the race of Adam. This star then actually became, by God’s appointment, the star of the Messiah to the Magi, though the birth of the Messiah did not exactly coincide with this conjunction, and thus proved itself to be raised above this constellation. It was to the Magi a sign;1 to the Church of Christ, however, it is a symbol that all true astronomy, all sincere inquiry, all the efforts of an earnest love of truth, conduce, under the guidance of God, to the highest knowledge, the knowledge of God in Christ.2 The Magi, indeed, as pilgrims seeking the new-born Messiah, fell immediately into a false supposition. They sought Him in Jerusalem, probably at the court of Herod himself. Their inquiries electrified the Idumean, and his excitement soon spread through the veins of all the royal dependants in the capital. The tyrant quickly recovered himself, and formed his diabolical plan. He first assembled an ecclesiastical council,3 and put to them the question where Christ should be born. They referred him to the prophecy of Micah (5:2),4 and named Bethlehem. He then privately called for the Magi. He told them the birthplace of Christ, and requested them to inform him of the discovery of the Holy Child. With crafty prudence, however, he at the same time obtained accurate information concerning the time of the first appearance of the star.1 He perhaps anticipated that he could not make sure of these pious philosophers, who must have appeared to him either as rebuking spirits or as suspicious enthusiasts. The pilgrims went their way. But the circumstance that they suffered themselves to be sent forth from Jerusalem towards Bethlehem, testified to the supernatural assurance with which they had undertaken this journey. Their audience with the king seems to have deprived them of the greater part of the day. His manner and his directions very probably discouraged them. How should they find the King of the Jews in this small shepherd-town? Night closed in upon their wanderings in a strange land; but it brought them consolation, for the star was again seen in the heights of heaven. If it seemed to them as though the star had travelled with them until it reached Christ’s birthplace with them, and that it rested there, this unables us to understand the power and certainty of this conviction. The critic, however, steps forward, and assures us that the stars pursue their own appointed courses. He gives us, by the way, a piece of astronomical information, which might make the high and mysterious understanding between the eyes of the stars and the stars of the eyes somewhat doubtful. But poets, and wise men of the East, and Christians often wander with the stars, and the stars with them. Must such happy beings be forbidden to speak in the language of the happy, that is, poetically? When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. But how did they so quickly find the abode of the child? asks the critic. Nay, but was not their condition peculiar? How does the magnetic needle find the pole? The magnetic needle is not made of wood. Probably the repulsive impression which must have been made by the gloomy Herod upon chosen souls like these, still continued to affect them, and became the more vivid the more it was contrasted with the bright image produced in their minds by the mother of Jesus. The remembrance of Herod’s expressions, his injunction that they should bring him word where the young Child was, might awaken and increase within them a feeling of deep mistrust against him. Was it likely that they would conceal from Joseph the solicitude they felt? Thus their own frame of mind predisposed them to receive a divine revelation in a dream. A vision of the night gave them the direction they needed, and they returned to their homes by another route than Jerusalem. Joseph saw the deep seriousness with which they departed in an opposite direction. The excitement of his mind became the element in which the spark of divine revelation was kindled. The command of God was announced to him, that he must save the life of the miraculous Child committed to his keeping, by a flight into Egypt. note It is only a proof of the extraordinary confusion with which the myth-hypothesis has snatched at similarities in the Old Testament to incidents in the New, that the star of the Magi has been connected with the star of Balaam (Numbers 24:17), and even derived therefrom. That star figuratively denotes the great King who should come forth from Israel, this is the heavenly sign of His birth. Critics are thus obliged to pass over the great difference between a metaphorical and a literal meaning, to catch at an appearance of the mythic. Comp. Hofmann, Weissagung und Erfllung, Pt. 2, p. 57. Though later Jews cherished the expectation that the Messiah would be announced by a star, it does not follow that this was induced (as Strauss supposes, i. 272) by the prophecy of Balaam. The critic in question, however, makes this assumption, because he must otherwise have maintained that the supposed myth had been merely formed to favour rabbinical and popular Jewish expectations. These expectations must therefore be connected with the star of Balaam, which however has, even with Rabbis, another meaning, so that two appearances co-operating may form one greater appearance, from which the mythic appearance aimed at might be deduced. Instead of that constellation of stars which the Magi looked for, criticism is on the look-out for a constellation of appearances, for the purpose of gaining its end.1 ÷ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 64: 02.055. SECTION VIII ======================================================================== Section VIII the flight into egypt (Matthew 2:1-23) During those critical moments in which the life of the world’s new-born Redeemer was endangered, the providence of God, in the centre of operations, co-operated by extraordinary dealings with the highly wrought emotions of the faithful human hearts who surrounded the Holy Child with their reverence and care. The art of the calculating despot had been defeated by the subtlety of presentiment with which God had enlightened noble minds.1 The mind of Joseph was meditating on the impressions of the day during the silence of the night. The angel of the Lord alarmed him by an anxious dream. He showed him the danger impending over the child, and commanded him to flee with Him and His mother to Egypt. At the birth of Jesus, the shepherds were already in the fields with their flocks. Hence spring must have begun. At all events, the rainy season of November and December, and the winterly January, must have been over.2 Since, however, the death of Herod probably took place in the early part of April, in the year 750 a.u.c., and the slaughter of the innocents preceded his death, the presentation of Jesus in the temple could scarcely have happened before the flight into Egypt.3 Unless we make the period of at least forty days, which must have intervened between the birth of Jesus and His presentation in the temple, extend so far over the March of that year as to reach April, and occupy a part of February, so that the shepherds were sent into the fields directly after the wintry season, we must suppose that the presentation took place after the return of the holy family from Egypt. We should, at all events, need a longer interval than forty days, if we transpose the presentation in the temple, the return to Bethlehem, the heavenly warning, which did not take place till then, and the subsequent slaughter of the children of Bethlehem, to a time prior to the beginning of April. All the statements of the Evangelists are most easily connected by the view, that the flight into Egypt took place soon, perhaps within a few weeks, after the birth of Jesus.1 Herod had by this time become certain that the Magi would not return to him. This must have much exasperated a man of his disposition, and have driven him to extremities in his fear of the Messianic Child. He probably, however, formed his designs in secret, as it was in secret also that he had dealt with the Magi. He was too politic a man openly to express his criminal hatred of the promised Son of David. Terrible things then took place in Bethlehem and its neighbourhood. Our notions of the occurrence take the following form. It was spring, and the parents were, for the most part, occupied in the fields. Soon, however, first one, then another, missed one of their children. One disappeared; another was found suffocated, poisoned, or stabbed, and bathed in its blood. In these mysterious and dreadful events, however, one strange feature of resemblance uniformly prevailed; viz., that only boys were slain; and, moreover, only boys of the tenderest age, none over two years old. The number of these unfortunates could not be great; but the suffering and fear were terribly increased by the mystery and inevitable nature of the danger. Whence these terrible assassinations arose, no political writer, and no Jew except the hired murderers, could know. But Christian feeling, which had been warned against the attempts of the tyrant, and knew the meaning of the circumstance, that the slain children were two years old and under, could say with certainty: Herod is the originator of this deed. As Peter by the spirit of prophecy announced the secret of Ananias, so probably did Mary that of Herod, from which this slaughter proceeded.2 Then arose a bitter lamentation upon the heights of Bethlehem. It was as though Rachel, the ancestress of Israel, who was buried at Rama, not far from Bethlehem, had risen from her grave to bewail the woes of her children. As soon as Herod was dead, and therefore not long after the flight into Egypt, Joseph was warned in a dream to return home again. The mental life of this remarkable man had been progressively perfecting in a peculiar manner, since he had come into the singular relation in which he stood to the most important facts and most glorious persons of the world’s history. The noblest reverence for Mary, that ministering to her to which the providence of God had called him, anxious solicitude for the Holy Child entrusted to his protection, filled his heart with a tender awe when he was resting from the toils of the day during the hours of darkness, and made the night-side of his mental life a camera obscura for those divine directions which protected the life of the Holy Child. Through his fidelity to his trust, his character rose to the height of true Christian geniality, he became the night-watcher before the tent of the new-born Prince of mankind. That the angel of the Lord spoke to him only in dreams, is characteristic. But that these dreams were multiplied makes his character not improbable, but remarkable. And why should not even Joseph appear as a remarkable man in such a circle, under the impulse of such events? Even if not naturally such, he could not but become one. And when once he had entered upon such a course, how likely it was that many of the turning-points of his life should be reflected on and decided during the night-season! The Holy Child was the light of his midnights. But why, asks criticism, did not the angel of the Lord, at least, blend the two last prophetic dreams into one? Psychologists, however, assert that prophetic dreams are never dialectic, but often rhythmical. Scarcely, then, had the fugitives arrived in Egypt, than the danger was over, and the call to them to return went forth. They accordingly came again into the land of Israel. notes 1. The passages, Matthew 1:22; Matthew 2:5; Matthew 2:16; Matthew 2:18; Matthew 2:23, in which Matthew speaks of strange fulfilments of Old Testament sayings, will be spoken of in their proper connection. But the remark already made by others, that the facts of the Gospel history are entirely independent of the exegesis of the Evangelist, must be made here. Or does criticism really assume that the Evangelist could not but be an infallible exeget? It is only when criticism makes such an assumption sincerely, and at the same time considers her own exegesis infallible in the points in which it differs from that of the Evangelist, that she can find that exegetical difficulties in such passages can cast a doubt upon historical facts. [The exegesis of Matthew is very thoroughly justified by Mill, p. 317, &c.-Ed.] 2. Tradition has fixed the sojourn of the parents of Jesus in Egypt as near to Israel as possible. The Israelite temple of Onias was at Leontopolis, and the fugitives are said to have dwelt at Matara in its neighbourhood. The statement of the actual history is not affected by this tradition; it is rather the political extent of Egypt towards Palestine at the time of Christ, which should be considered in reviewing this event. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 65: 02.056. SECTION IX ======================================================================== Section IX the presentation of jesus in the temple (Luke 2:1-52) In His relation to the essential appointments of the Old Testament law, Jesus was an Israelite who exhibited a life passed in conformity to the law, under the impulses of liberty. It was not till death that He was released from Israelite responsibilities. Through the law, He died to the law, as Paul and His people generally did, in fellowship with Him. Till His death upon the cross, however, by which His nation thrust Him out into the world, He exhibited His divine liberty under the condition of Israelite religious national duty. Thus also did Mary act with the Holy Child. It never struck her to claim exemption for her child from Jewish duties. She understood too well the signification of the manifestation of the Son of God in the flesh. From her stand-point, however, she could not take a part in the typical customs which the birth of the child required, with slavish devotion and admiration. The circumcision of the child was simply performed eight days after His birth, the time appointed by the law. The sign of theocratic civilization1 had no other import for the sacred body, without spot or blemish, than that it thus became free from blame in the eyes of the Jewish Church.1 There was nothing to ennoble in Him; the angel had named Him Jesus before He was conceived in the womb. Thus He brought the nobility of the true circumcision or civilization of nature into the world with Him. Hence it was the most essential part of the ceremony that this name, Jesus, should now be given to Him. As the ceremony could only bear testimony to His native nobility, His name bore testimony to His true destiny. It has been justly remarked, that the simple celebration of the circumcision of Jesus stands in remarkable contrast to the great festivities with which the circumcision of John was solemnized. John concluded the Old Covenant. In him the rite of circumcision solemnized its last glory. Jesus commenced the New Covenant. In His life the rite was only the performance of a national duty. During the flight into Egypt, the time which must intervene between a birth and the rite of purification had elapsed. Hence, when the holy family returned home, their first business was to present the Child in the temple. There were in this case two religious duties to fulfil. The greater of these was, that the Child, as a first-born son, must be offered to the Lord (Exodus 13:2; Numbers 18:15-16). As a first-born, He was regarded as a sacrifice, whose life belonged to the Lord, and must therefore be redeemed by a sacrifice. God had once inflicted death upon the first-born of Egypt and spared the first-born of Israel; hence they were, in a special sense, dedicated to Him (Exodus 13:2). Therewith also was connected the notion, that the priesthood of the family was the duty of the first-born. Since, however, according to the theocratic appointment, the tribe of Levi represented the first-born of the nation in this duty, the redemption took place with reference to this obligation also (Numbers 18:1-32) In the latter respect, the sacrifice seems to have been appointed to be rendered in money, viz., five shekels, after the shekel of the sanctuary. It was thus that Jesus was now redeemed from the service of the temple, while His mother at the same time celebrated the rite of her purification. If the woman had borne a son, she was to offer a lamb forty days after, or, if she were poor, a pair of turtle-doves or young pigeons (Leviticus 12:8). According to the statement of the Evangelist, Mary brought the offering of the poor. While the parents were offering their sacrifice in the temple, the aged Simeon2 accosted and greeted them as though he had long known and waited for them. He took the child in his arms and praised God. His prayer was indeed a swan’s song: ‘Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word; for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.’ He rejoiced that he could now die happily. He is the noblest type of the Jewish, and especially of the prophetic mind. With deep sorrow does he seem to have lamented the fall of his nation; a sorrow so deep, so tragically painful, that he could not die till his eyes had beheld the Messiah. God had, by the Spirit, given him a pledge that he should not die till he had seen the Christ. It was his joy, but also his sorrow. Hence is he, in the noblest sense, the wandering Jew of the Old Covenant, or rather its wandering Christologist. Now he is released from this fate. He has seen the Messiah; he can now die. His song of praise in the temple has not a Jewish sound. He praises the Saviour, first, as the salvation prepared before the face of all nations, as a light to lighten the Gentiles; he then calls Him the glory of His people Israel. Such words, especially in the mouth of an aged Jew, and spoken in the temple, testify to the most glorious presentiment of Gospel liberty. This is the form the Gospel takes with him. It is great, free, and world-embracing. But it is also very sad. Simeon blesses the parents of Jesus, and announces to Mary the sore conflict of the future. ‘This child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, and for a sign that shall be spoken against.’ ‘A sword shall pierce thine own soul also,’ said he to Mary; adding, with deep sorrow, the words, ‘The thoughts of many hearts shall be revealed,’ as though his eye penetrated the deep corruption of the Jewish hierarchy. It was his gospel that he could fall asleep in the peace of his Lord before Good Friday came. What a character! But how did he find the holy family? A mysterious but powerful impulse of the Spirit had led him to the temple. And how could he distinguish the Holy Child from an ordinary child? asks the critic. But who would judge of the prophetic glance of an aged man such as he was by his own feeble powers of discrimination? Besides, Simeon saw the child with His mother. And thousands in the middle ages learned to know the glory of the child, through the noble form of the mother.1 But why were the parents astonished at the words of Simeon concerning the child? asks the critic again. Truly they already knew all; they knew that the child was the Son of God. If nevertheless they were astonished, it was not because they heard perhaps an orthodox formula, but in free and heartfelt delight especially that God should have revealed this holy secret to Simeon. How often is it considered perfectly becoming to be astonished at the higher mysteries of this world? The prophetess Anna now joins the group. She was an aged widow, the daughter of one Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser. She forms a striking contrast to the aged Simeon. He was led by the Spirit to the temple. With her it was an old custom to continue in the temple, with prayer and fasting. He solemnly chanted forth his dying lay at the sight of Christ; she gained fresh life and courage from the same sight, and began to publish the glad tidings to them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem. So different were these characters, and their believing reception of the Gospel, and yet they exhibited a unity, in which the true Messianic life of Israel greeted the Redeemer in the temple. They who make teleology a reproach to us, and insist that when a butterfly, a hurricane, or even an historical event is in question, we must not inquire concerning its purpose, meet us here with the inquiry, what purpose could there be in bestowing so great a revelation upon these aged people?1 They ask us, for what purpose does this old man, in his second childhood, thus dress himself in festal grave-clothes to chant his swan-like lay, and the aged Anna hasten again, like a bride, through the streets of Jerusalem? note It is worthy of note, that even Neander (Life of Christ, p. 25) feels bound to defend the presentation in the temple. ‘Both (namely, the offering of the redemption-money for Jesus, and the sacrifice of purification for Mary) are striking when compared with the circumstances which preceded the birth of this child,’ &c. The Apostle Paul has entirely done away with anything that might be striking by that beautiful saying, ‘He thought it not robbery to be equal with God.’ If it should be felt a difficulty that Christ displayed His divine life amidst the restrictions of Judaism, it must seem quite as striking that He should display it amidst the restrictions of humanity. The glorification, however, of limitation was part of the purpose of His mission. While supranaturalistic prejudice is ever involuntarily criticising the full and sufficient form of Christ’s incarnation, and hence finding in such features of conformity to the law as occur in His life a kind of voluntary complaisance; rationalistic critics would, on the contrary, often make Him display an antinomian spirit, nay, a spirit of opposition to Jewish ecclesiasticism. This arises from a want of appreciation for the distinction between the essential law and the scrupulous observance in Israel. Upon this distinction depends that glorious alternation between conformity to law, and liberty displayed in the life of Jesus, that infinite dexterity with which His pure walk was ever able to steer between the observance of law and the non-observance of scrupulous additions;-to dance among eggs without breaking them, would but poorly express the difficulty of such a course. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 66: 02.057. SECTION X ======================================================================== SECTION X the settlement in nazareth (Luke 2:1-52; Matthew 2:1-23) The pious evangelist, Anna, may perhaps have spoken almost too much of the wondrous Child in Jerusalem. Archelaus was just the man to renew the attacks of his father upon the life of the Messiah. Augustus had not made him king, but only ethnarch of Judea. Though already warned, however, by an appeal of the people against his succession, he treated both Jews and Samaritans with cruel harshness. The danger to the holy family could not have been so great as to make it unsafe for them to enter Jerusalem; for Herod had not publicly persecuted the Messiah, and still less was this child of a poor mother publicly known as the Messiah. Nevertheless the holy family might have incurred danger by a continued sojourn under the sceptre of this despot. The grave expressions of Simeon concerning the sorrows in store for Mary, might have contributed to the anxieties of the parents of Jesus. Finally, a divine warning again vouchsafed to Joseph in a dream decided them on not remaining in Judea, and Mary was obliged to sacrifice her day-dream of bringing up her child for His high vocation in the city of David, to the divine guidance. Joseph arose and turned aside into the parts of Galilee (Matthew 2:22). They returned into Galilee, to their own city Nazareth (Luke 2:39). Matthew found it difficult for his Jewish heart to reconcile itself to the fact that Jesus grew up in Nazareth. Hence he sought, above all things, to point out the harmony of this strange phenomenon with the Old Testament. It was with this motive that he wrote the significant sentence: He came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth; that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene. Matthew speaks, as it seems, from the point of view of a Galilean, who was abiding on the shores of the lake of Gennesareth, when the parents of Jesus again settled in Nazareth. It was then that the Messiah came into his neighbourhood, then first that He became a dweller in Nazareth. It is the main point with him that the Messiah, who had not yet dwelt in Nazareth, became by this settlement a Nazarene. In his purpose of bringing forth this fact, it is a matter of indifference to him that the parents of Jesus had also formerly dwelt there. But that Jesus should become a Nazarene, seems to him such a difficulty, that he cites the prophets collectively as witnesses to the fact that this was involved in the destiny of the Messiah. They said, He shall be called a Nazarene. Neither an extinct saying of some prophet, nor any single prophetic utterance in general, can be here alluded to, and still less the similarity in sound of the word Nezer (ðÅöÆøÄ Isaiah 11:1), the branch.1 Nothing but a desperate desire to find an explanation at any cost could lay hold on the word Nazarite. It was only at a period when the word Nazarene was applied as a term of reproach to Christians, that the Evangelist, in a free and vivid interpretation of the Old Testament, could say, when contemplating the many passages in which the contempt the Messiah should be held in was declared, that Christ had been designated by the prophets as a Nazarene.2 The full boldness and ingenuity of this declaration will be understood, when we consider that he wrote it for Jewish Christians, who were called Nazarenes, and perhaps also for Jews, who, in their prejudice, applied this name to Christians. He gave even Jews credit for not fastening upon such a sentence, in which all the prophets are said to concur, as a literal quotation from the prophetic writings.3 Though Jewish prejudice against Jesus was subsequently often fostered by the circumstance that He came from Nazareth, it was yet a master-stroke of divine wisdom that He should have grown up in that town. The retirement which concealed Him while He dwelt in one of the least noted districts, and among the least esteemed of the people, ensured the uninterrupted and original development of His unique life. It was as a miracle from heaven that this life was first to be displayed in the midst, and upon the high places, of Jewish popular life. note The often recurring assertion of modern criticism, that Matthew assumes that the parents of Jesus always lived in Bethlehem, before their settlement in Nazareth here mentioned, is supported, first, by the fact (Matthew 2:1), that the birth of Jesus at Bethlehem is spoken of without any previous mention of the journey of the parents. But since he had already spoken of Mary and Joseph in the first chapter, it might have been expected that the supposed assumption, with respect to their dwelling, would have come to light there, if it had really existed; while the fact of his not mentioning Bethlehem till he relates the birth of Jesus, seems rather to testify that he had in view another place than the ordinary abode of the parents. His reason for not naming the latter may be explained by the intention of his Gospel. He would not unnecessarily state anything which might add to the difficulties of Jewish Christians. Hence he does not name Nazareth till the passage in which he is obliged to do so, and where he can appeal to a decided motive, and a divine direction. That Mary and Joseph had formerly dwelt at Nazareth, is, in this passage (Matthew 2:23), a merely accessory circumstance. It is worthy of observation, that the words, He shall be called a Nazarene, must be referred to Joseph, if the passage is interpreted in a strictly literal manner. But since all are agreed that the sentence refers to Jesus, it may be asked whether the change of subject takes place with the quotation, or before. At all events, it is in accordance with the whole passage to believe that the Evangelist had the Messiah in view in the words καὶ ἐλθὼν κατῴκησε, even though he does not formally say so. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 67: 02.058. SECTION XI ======================================================================== SECTION XI the fulfilments (Matthew 1:1-25 and Matthew 2:1-23) That the whole christological development of the ancient æon was fulfilled in Christ as the Prince of the new æon, that He was Himself the actual fulfilment of every exalted aspiration and effort that had preceded Him, is a doctrine announced by each and all of the apostles and Evangelists. But a most intimate relation must prevail between the first beginnings and the perfection of the development of any definite life; it is but natural that the blossom and consummation of such development should be announced by frequent and most striking preludes. All the significant beginnings in the history of any celebrated life, will recur with increased force and ideality during the course of its development, and at length they will celebrate their fulfilment in the perfection of the maturity of this definite organic life. When Christian Rome, in the days of its purely patriarchal rule in the West, poured forth the dawn of Christian civilization over the mass of nations enveloped in the night of heathen darkness, then were fulfilled the great things anticipatively sung by the poets of the Eternal City. When Luther affixed his theses to the castle church of Wittenberg, then was fulfilled, preliminarily at least, the inspired call with which Arminius had invoked the heroes of Germany against the world-wide supremacy of Rome. But the relation and similarity between beginning, middle, and end, are not only displayed in broad, general features, but often far more wonderfully in separate, nay, in very special particulars. Natural philosophers have long known this great law of life; it is beginning to dawn upon historians; even theologians will have to acquaint themselves with it. When this is the case, many of the unfortunate critical remarks on significant references between the Old and New Testaments, will, at all events, come to nothing. When the Evangelist Matthew was led, both by his own turn of mind and his vocation, to contemplate and exhibit, with the greatest distinctness, the fulfilment of the christological beginnings of the Old Testament in the life of Jesus, it could not escape his penetrating glance, that the general fulfilment of the divine-human life in Christ was surrounded by many particular fulfilments, that the corolla was adorned with a rich wreath of flower-leaves. This was not merely his peculiar way of viewing it, still less a weakness of rabbinical exegesis. Even John was acquainted with this vital law, that the prelude reappears in the completion. He saw, e.g., the speaking circumstance, that not a bone of the crucified Saviour, the antitype of the pascal lamb, was broken. In both cases, too, this happened from the same reason: it was during the world’s midnight hour, and under violent excitement of mind, that the sacrifice took place; it was no time for the performance of customary ceremonies or usages. Matthew then found the history of Christ’s infancy rich in such prophetic features. In the birth of the Redeemer, the true Immanuel, of the Virgin, he rightly saw (Matthew 1:22-23) the fulfilment of that prophetic scene in Isaiah (Isaiah 7:14) in which the birth of the son of a virgin-mother, and the circumstance that she should call his name Immanuel, was, as we have already seen, held forth to king Ahaz as a sign of deliverance. The birth of Christ was the fulfilment of this scene in a threefold respect: the virginity of the mother, the heroic courage and redeeming love, and the consecration of the new-born child to be a sign and assurance of deliverance, but also, especially, the entire uniqueness of these three typical incidents were in this case perfect. With a free view of its meaning does the Evangelist quote also the passage in which Micah (Micah 5:1) had announced the theocratic glory of Bethlehem. He, as well as the Jewish scribes, rightly applies it to the birth of Christ at Bethlehem. These words pointed out, not merely as a typical, but as a conscious prophecy, that the Messiah would be born at Bethlehem. Nay, this passage is a key to other passages whose reference is more obscure. The Governor of Israel is here designated as Him whose goings forth or beginnings1 have been from of old, and from everlasting; therefore, as the essential fulfilment. When Matthew was contemplating the flight of the parents of Jesus to Egypt, for the preservation of the Holy Child, and their return thence (Matthew 2:15), not only did the saying of Hosea (Hosea 11:1)-Out of Egypt have I called My Son-wherein God is stating His relation to the infancy of the people of Israel-appear to him highly significant; but also the actual similarity, that the typical son, the nation, in which the true Son was enclosed as the essence of its being, was called out of Egypt, and that now the true Son of God, with whom even the deliverance of the typical one recurred, should be called out of the same country. He even saw the recurrence and awful fulfilment of what was terrible in the history of Israel, when the prince who sat on David’s throne slew the children of Bethlehem in order to destroy that great Son of David, who, according to promise, was to be Israel’s Saviour and Deliverer. This occurrence recalled to his mind the terrible ruin of his nation, and the sad delusion of the reigning house. It had once, indeed, seemed to the prophet Jeremiah, when he saw in the Spirit the children of Israel led captive to Babylon, as though Rachel, their ancestress, were rising from her tomb in Rama to bewail her unhappy children, as though the lamentation of a spirit were resounding in heart-breaking tones upon the tops of the mountains; but Matthew felt that this incident, the slaughter of the children, was sadder than even that, that the troubles of his nation had now reached their climax, and that its faithful ancestress had now more reason than ever to be disturbed in her grave, and to lift up her voice in lamentation for her children. Such, however, is the Evangelist’s spiritual liberty in his view of the relations between the Old and New Testaments, that he forms expressions according to actual circumstances, and reads sayings in the prophets which no literalist, but only a discerning child of the theocratic spirit, could read in them. Jesus grows up in Nazareth-the Messiah, the heir of all the promises, in that despised corner of Galilee-what a heavy cross to Jewish pride! Well, thinks Matthew, I find this despised origin, which obscures the Messiah to the carnal eye, pointed out in the prophets, in the rod that is to spring from the roots of Jesse, and elsewhere, so clearly that I am certain the prophets have, in the spirit of the words, declared that he shall be called a Nazarene. In a word, he meets the Nazarene everywhere in the writings of the prophets. So practical an eye, looking upon the life of Jesus, could not but behold it richly adorned with fulfilments of Old Testament christological notions of every kind. note Having pointed out the general notion of these prophecies, it would be needless to dwell further on that exegetical treatment of the passages in question, which depends upon a misconception of the organic nature of prophecy. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 68: 02.059. SECTION XII ======================================================================== Section XII the development of jesus (Luke 2:1-52) Jesus was, and remained, a Nazarene, till He was over thirty years of age. Hence He passed the greater part of His glorious life in retirement. It is a testimony to the infinite delicacy and secrecy of His divine greatness, to that revealing concealment of true majesty, which can escape the vulgar eye in broad daylight, that no Nazarene was so struck by His appearance as to become the Evangelist of His youth; but it is, at the same time, also a testimony to the dull state of popular life in Nazareth. The only trustworthy information we possess concerning Christ’s development, is probably derived from the reminiscences of Mary. Thus the whole of our Lord’s useful life is covered by a general obscurity; while the one history which Luke has preserved in the narrative of the occurrence of His twelfth year, sheds the only ray which penetrates this darkness, a ray shining, on the one side, as far as the birth of Jesus, and on the other, as His baptism in Jordan. Situate between the heights of the miraculous birth of Christ, and the solemnization of the perfection of His Messianic consciousness by the testimony of God and the recognition of John the Baptist, only such an incident as that communicated could be in keeping; a sun-enlightened peak, corresponding in its brightness and sublimity with those heights, and displaying by its features and style that it belongs to the same mountain chain. The Evangelist Luke first gives us a general sketch of the development of Jesus: ‘The child grew and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon Him.’ He then exhibits this development of Jesus in a most speaking fact. The history of Jesus at twelve years of age represents His whole development. It is the characteristic act of His boyhood, the revelation of His youthful life,-a reflection of the glory of His birth, a token of His future heroic course. It exhibits the childhood of His ideality, and therefore the ideality of childhood in general. When Jewish boys were twelve years old, they accompanied their kinsfolk to the great festivals at Jerusalem, and were called by a great name: Children of the Thorah, of the Law. Hence the parents of Jesus took Him with them as soon as He had reached this stage of life. When the festival was over, they returned among the Galilean company to Nazareth. But the child remained behind in Jerusalem. The parents first missed their Son when they took up their quarters for the night, after the first day’s journey, and found Him again, after three days’ anxious search, in the temple. But how was it possible for them, and especially for Mary, to have been thus separated for three days from the child? A single moment would be sufficient for such a contingency-a moment in which the young eagle unconsciously lost sight of His mother; while she, the dependent wife, who was with Joseph and his relations, followed in the beaten track, and under the supposition that her child would also remain in the company of the Galilean travellers, suffered Him to disappear from her immediate circle. Mary has been reproached with this incident. But this has resulted from want of appreciating its serious, nay, sad, significance Mary was placed under domestic and family ties which exercised a power over her. The bloom of her inner life was of a New Testament character; while, as a Jewess, she was rooted, by both duty and custom, in the Old Testament. Thus was Mary, who once more in after days betrayed, in presence of her holy Son, traces of womanly weakness, and dependence on Joseph’s family (Mark 3:31), carried forward by the rules of the Nazarene travellers; while the child-He knew not how-fell out of the train of boys, and went on, led by the Spirit, meditating, longing, attracted, and carried along by His own infinite thoughts, until He stood in the temple, in the midst of the Rabbis. The separation of the mother and child did not therefore require much time. The pilgrims marched in companies or parties, which were again divided into separate bands. The parents of Jesus had seen the band of boys formed, and supposed that their Son had set off with it, according to custom. This mistake of a moment was sufficient to separate them from Him for three days. It was not till the end of the first day’s journey that they could miss Him, when seeking Him at the common resting-place among His companions. The second day was occupied in returning. On the third they found Him in the temple. They were, however, in the highest degree surprised, nay, amazed, to find the child in such a situation. He was sitting in the midst of a circle of Rabbis, listening to their instructions, and questioning them. A circle of wondering listeners surrounded Him; they were astonished at His understanding and answers. But how could Jesus come into this connection with the Rabbis? We are informed that the pupils of the Rabbis were not suffered to sit in the presence of their teachers till a period subsequent to this.1 This information is, however, regarded as doubtful. They suffered this unknown boy to sit in their midst. He was even permitted to question them, and thus to use an agency which might easily be converted into teaching, and which on this occasion probably became a difficult test to the Rabbis. The Rabbis of our days would not perhaps have suffered this; but the Rabbis of those days had not yet lost all feeling for the prophetic spirit, though they were fast stiffening into the death of formalism. They might well remember the boys Joseph, Samuel, and David, when they met with an unusually gifted boy. Besides, they might have been very glad to obtain distinguished pupils. At all events, these Rabbis suffered themselves to be for the moment carried away by the glorious and marvellous boy. The genius of the new human race overcame these heroes of ancient etiquette. Their better Israelite and human feelings made them for the moment delighted with the intelligent and inquiring boy, and they made Him sit in their midst.1 He listened to and questioned them, giving a wholesome agitation to their scholastically formed and settled opinions by the expression of His vigorous and childlike thoughts.2 It was thus that His parents found Him. Joseph was truly concerned for the Holy Child who had been entrusted to him; but one can easily understand that he would feel, in a still greater degree, a great and decided reverence for the Rabbis in the temple at Jerusalem. How many a time may he not, more or less, have lost sight of the future divine hero in the poor and often silent boy? And now he finds Him in the midst of the doctors of Jerusalem, perhaps unconsciously pressing upon them both strongly and sharply the great questions of the inner life of religion. He was amazed at the sight, as was Mary also. It is quite consistent with the actual relations between Christ and His parents, that they should not have been able to keep pace with Him in spiritual matters. Yet every incident in which they saw Him on the steep path of life suddenly looking down upon them from a dizzy overhanging height, must have the more struck and surprised them, inasmuch as He was so thoroughly humble and submissive, so silent concerning the wonders of His inner life in His intercourse with them. If we cannot but find in the disposition of Joseph a secret complaisance in the boy’s elevation, we may still more imagine what a terror of joy took possession of Mary. But how did she penetrate beyond the court of the women? and how came it that she anticipated her husband, and was the first to speak in presence of the Rabbis? Fortunately these difficulties have, as yet, escaped our critics. How vivid are these touches! The anxious mother is the first to press forward. Joseph, however, has not yet grown to the comprehension of this scene; he maintains a reverential silence. Mary asks the boy: ‘Son, why hast Thou thus dealt with us? behold, Thy father and I have sought Thee, sorrowing.’ And He replies, ‘How is it that ye sought Me? wist ye not that I must be about My Father’s business?’ And they understood not the saying which He spake unto them. The boy asked, with most genuine naiveté, ‘Could you then seek Me? Did you not know that I am at home here?’3 The temple on Moriah is to Him still identical with His Father’s house, the interpretation of the Old Testament with His Father’s word, and intercourse with the Rabbis with His Father’s presence. This place still exercises upon His religious feeling the full power of a heavenly home; and He cannot understand that His parents should have set off, and then, when they missed Him, not immediately have sought Him here. At all events, He expresses the whole theology of His own nature, yet not in the form of matured consciousness, but in the truest type of the dawning notions of genuine childhood. Time had escaped Him in the happy hours He had spent there; but He now listens and questions from the stand-point of His parents. He does not desire to excuse Himself for having forgotten the whole world in His Father’s house; but He allows Himself to be informed of the anxiety they had suffered, because they did not know of His doings in the temple. Mary speaks of His father Joseph, but He speaks of the irresistible drawing of His Father in heaven. It is the dawning feeling of that sonship which was His alone-a feeling still enveloped, however, in the bud of childlikeness, which expresses, without intending it, the great contrast between the earthly and the heavenly father. The consciousness of His heavenly Father’s omnipresence is still enveloped in the bud of childlike devotion, which seeks the Father in His temple; and His gradual self-reflection upon the depths of the divine life within Him is still veiled under the childlike simplicity with which, impelled by sincere confidence and thirst after knowledge, He proposes His questions to the fathers of Jewish theology. But the test of a childlike purity corresponding with the presentiment of His great destiny, lies in the fact that He should, when bidden by His parents to depart for Nazareth, so immediately leave the place where He had plunged so deeply into the nature of His Father, and had, in this experience, comprehended His own; the place of which He had but just said: It is here that I am at home. He entered into their ways of life, and freely followed their guidance. Certainly the saying, He was subject to them, means fully as much as this; and how happy must He be esteemed in His humble obedience! Under the shadow of the temple of Jerusalem, He must either have become a disciple of the Pharisees, or rather, since this was an impossibility, He would have reached His goal too early by opposing the pharisaic spirit. In Nazareth, on the contrary, another of His Father’s houses-the greatness, the sacredness of nature-was opened to Him, for the development of His consciousness. Here He could search the Scriptures without the obscuring glosses of the Rabbis; instead of intercourse with spiritually dead scribes, could commune with the ever-living spirits of the prophets; while Mary His mother, the chosen one, who pondered in her heart all that befell Him, was more to Him than all the priests of the temple. She beheld with maternal delight how He grew in wisdom and stature, and in favour both with God and man. Though she often sank below that high and perfect state of inspiration in which she had brought forth her holy Son, yet, according to the prevailing feature of her life, she must have risen towards Him, when He went down to Nazareth with her. If the child had not expressed His ideal of continually dwelling in the temple, He would have been enslaved by the force of Old Testament customs. If, on the contrary, He had insisted on maintaining this ideal, in opposition to the higher ideality of following the divine will, in the performance of domestic duty, He would have trodden the path of self-will. Both were impossible. His free submission is a prelude to the great prayer in Gethsemane. Jesus there, according to the true meaning of the prayer, once more asks of His Father, whether the ideal of a Messiah free from suffering, and dwelling upon Zion, were a possibility; but He finds the answer in the depths of His own breast, and becomes again, with perfect and free submission, the Nazarene, even to death upon the cross. We have pointed out, in what has been already advanced, the education under which the development of Jesus took place. The notions, that Jesus perhaps picked up somewhat of the far-famed wisdom of Egypt, during His flight thither, while still a sportive child-that He was secretly a disciple of the Essenes,-as well as other similar conjectures, have their foundation in the general tendency of ‘Philisterism,’ to explain the very highest kind of life by mere scholastic reasoning, to attribute the greatest human originality to a compound of the effects of lesser minds. It has been already shown, that the Essenes were anything but genuine Israelites. The Messiah might appear, be crucified, and die in the midst of His people, without their appreciating or observing Him from their schismatic corner. If education is looked upon as an influence upon the life of the scholar, by which his character receives many elements from the circle of ideas and the reflections of his teacher, and by which his views are variously modified, we may unhesitatingly declare of Jesus, that His healthy nature totally withstood all education of this kind. Himself so powerfully and purely original, He was incapable of taking into His nature false or obscure impressions even of theology and history. It was only the objective and the actual which could find an entrance into His mind: what was false rebounded from the elasticity of His heavenly-minded moral nature, and then appeared before Him objectively, as one of the world’s delusions, as a medium for perfecting His knowledge of the world. But if we view education as a means of unfolding the inner nature of the scholar by appropriate influences and communications, as the organic excitement of his development, and as feeding his inner life with such a measure of the facts of the outer world as the exigencies of a healthy vital process of assimilation require, no one enjoyed a richer education and cultivation than Jesus. As Luther once bestowed upon a bird the title of Doctor, because it had taught him confidence, so far rather did Jesus receive from the fowls of heaven and the lilies of the field the most instructive and most cheering of Heaven’s teachings. All nature became to Him a transparent symbol of eternal truth, the developed counter part, the mirror of that divine fulness which was discovering itself within Him; and He found on the hills of Galilee a glorious sanctuary, which compensated Him for the courts of the temple. Even everyday life was a school of instruction to Him. The price of a sparrow in the market was connected in His mind with the highest interests of the human soul. He beheld all things in their twofold relations; that is, according to their import in the world, and their import in the government and mind of God. In the stupidity of the people, in all the misunderstandings and misinterpretations, which the manifestation of His purity could not fail to elicit, the dark side of the world, the deep corruption of the human race, was early made manifest to Him. Very early must He, after a glance at Israel and the world, have turned with a sigh to His Father in the sense of those words of gloomy foreboding: a dark spirit runs through this house. The Old Testament offered Him the same solution which He found in His own mind. ‘The Scriptures testify of Me,’ said He. He found their utterances identical with His own consciousness, nay, even parallel with its development. Their christological development reached its climax in His own life: He was Himself their last word, their key. The progress of His development was a progress through the stages of their life; hence He penetrated their deepest meaning, as proved, e.g., by His explanation of the brazen serpent, of the announcement of God as the God of Abraham, and His masterly quotation of many Old Testament passages against the Pharisees. The Old Testament was to Him the fullest prophecy of His own life. Undoubtedly the journeys which Christ annually made to Jerusalem after His twelfth year, had great influence in the development of His consciousness. The acquaintance of the boy with the doctors seems not to have increased from year to year. His first visit to Jerusalem was sufficient to enable Him to penetrate the whole corruption of the existing temple-system. The life of His mother Mary, however, only needed to be understood as His mind could understand it, to appear as a bright picture of a happy life in God. His intercourse with her was the most refined and noblest means of promoting His development. Her humility, love, and faith appeared before Him in a mature, though not a perfect aspect, and therefore could not but exert a powerful influence upon His soul. She was to Him also in a special sense a type of the elect, of that higher and nobler humanity which the Father had given to Him; hence a type of His Church. Certainly the kindly intercourse between Christ and His mother Mary, was the noblest element of His human education and development. Who can portray the great and deep joy of this connection, the words of mutual help and encouragement which could not but be uttered in the intercourse of these hearts, or the unspeakably acute sorrow which must have burned like fire at a white heat in both, when Mary, in weaker moments, could not understand the faith of her Son, when the Jewess opposed the Christian in her breast? In decisive moments, Christ placed her in a high position. Under the rule of His Spirit, she was held sacred in the youthful days of the Gospel, in the youthful days of the Church. But He could not have given a more touching or lovelier testimony to the character of her mind, than He uttered from the cross in His legacy of love, a love infinitely abundant even in the agonies of death-the legacy by which He made John her son, and her his mother. But though Mary might lead the Lord to the entrance of the Holy of Holies, no intercourse could be so promotive of His inner life as intercourse with His Father. The perfection of His intercourse with the Father, whether displayed in the entire unreserve of face-to-face dialogue, or in those monologues in which His very soul was poured forth, this vitality of prayer casts a bright ray upon the holy night of His childhood, making it clear to us, that in proportion to His development, He could not but be found in His Father’s house, His Father’s bosom, in His love and presence, nay, could not but find His Father in His whole being. His whole life was developed in God-as one prayer of infinite depth-one deep sigh for the world’s salvation-one loud hallelujah for the saving love manifesting itself in Him-one continuous amen of obedience, and surrender to the guidance of His Father. Thus was His development in the life of prayer perfected. It might then well seem, to modest minds, an infinitely difficult task to define exactly the degree of development which such a mind might attain at the age of twelve. The observations of those who have found the boy placed at too great an elevation, have been met by examples of precociously great minds; the remark has also been made, that an Oriental child of twelve would equal a Western one of fifteen in degree of development; but the opponents of the historic Gospel have not given up their objections.1 Though they can hardly recognize a developed Church Christology in the sayings of Christ during the ministrations of His manhood, they find it, strange to say, in the expression: I must be in what is My Father’s. They think that a child of twelve could not have spoken so theologically.2 An unprejudiced consideration, however, of the whole expression, shows that the morning dew of childhood still lies upon every word; such complete naiveté, that a sophist could subsequently adduce it in support of the opinion, that this boy spoke in too childish a manner to represent the Prince of mankind at the age of twelve. How indefinitely obscure is the saying: I must be in those (things, places, or affairs) that are my Father’s (ἐí פןῖς פןῦ πατρός μου)! How childlike is the assumption, that this being in the Father’s sphere was identical with a sojourn in the temple! And how sudden is the transition from the genuine Zionite ideal to unlimited obedience! In such alternations of frame, we recognize a genuine childlike nature, though certainly a nature coming up to the standard of ideal childhood, and representing, in its bounding freedom, the young lion; in its swift obedience, the tender lamb. notes 1. From the present history, we learn that the parents of Jesus generally went together to the Passover at Jerusalem. This certainty is derived from the words: His parents. But it does not follow that Joseph might not have frequented the other great annual festivals. It is probable that Jesus had frequently gone up to the feasts at Jerusalem before His public appearance, and that the intercourse with pilgrims, priests, and scribes, which such journeys involved, was undoubtedly one great element of His development, and of preparation for His ministry. 2. And when He was twelve years old (ὅτε ἐγένετο ἐτῶν δώδεκα), says the Evangelist. Strauss here alternately uses the expressions: in His twelfth year, and Jesus was twelve years old. Neander says he had entered His twelfth year. This inaccuracy must be avoided. If Jesus were born in the early months of the year, He had probably entered His thirteenth year. 3. The text gives us occasion to imagine a distinct grouping of the pilgrim caravans, and indeed such a one as enforced the separation of a boy from his parents on the return journey. This leads to the view of a separate company of boys. 4. Strauss makes the following objection to the early development of Jesus related in the present narrative (vol. i. 313): ‘For, though the consciousness of a more subjective vocation, as of poet, artist, &c., in which all depends upon the individual being gifted with early susceptibility, might possibly very soon manifest itself; yet an objective vocation, in which actual occurrences form a chief factor, such as the vocation of statesman, general, reformer of religion, could hardly become so clear, even in the most gifted individual; because such a knowledge of given circumstances is needed for it, as longer observation and more matured experience alone could afford. But it is to the latter kind that a vocation to be the Messiah belongs,’ &c. The same writer also says, in his article, Vergδngliches und Bleibendes in Christenthum, p. 109 ff., A late penetrating observer rightly finds a main difference between human natures and endowments, in the circumstance that some feel an impulse and vocation to go out of themselves, and objectively to exhibit that which lives within them in works of art or science, in deeds of war or peace; while others, shut up in themselves, strive to make their inner nature unanimous with itself, to exercise, to cultivate its various powers, and thus to form their own life to a rich harmonious work of art. Now Christ belonged in the fullest and highest sense to this (latter) class of natures. Accustomed as we are to be astonished at the rapid turns of ‘criticism,’ we can but be astonished once more. So then, in the former, as well as in the latter work, the author gives the same classification of the great minds of the world’s history. But in the one, he places Christ in the class of those who have an objective, and in the other, of those who have a more subjective vocation. By this flagrant contradiction he gains a double advantage. He can first (presumptively at least) apply the theory of the objective vocation of Christ, as an argument against the development of Jesus at twelve years of age. But then he can afterwards, by connecting Him with the geniuses of the world, bring the Christ of more subjective gifts into a class which, in some measure, secures Him from being mixed up with the often impure ‘heroes of war and politics,’ and thus weaken the reproofs he might have expected. Bruno Bauer, speaking against the early development of Jesus, says, vol. i. p. 65, ‘A twelve-years-old boy is a twelve-years-old boy in every region under heaven.’1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 69: 02.060. SECTION XIII ======================================================================== SECTION XIII the family relations of jesus Joseph, the foster-father of Jesus, must undoubtedly have died between the first journey of Jesus to Jerusalem and His first entrance upon His public ministry,-that is, between his twelfth and thirtieth years. For on that journey he was still accompanying Mary; while in the history of Christ’s public life he is nowhere met with, not even at the marriage of Cana. More definite information concerning the time of his departure is hardly to be obtained. No artizan ever peformed so great things as he. He is the prince of craftsmen; unless, indeed, Christ, of whom tradition says that He worked in wood, and whom even the Nazarenes called (according to Mark 6:3) the carpenter, were so Himself. But we shall return to this question. After Joseph’s death, Mary was not left alone with Jesus. His brethren are often spoken of in the Gospels,1 and in a connection which plainly shows that they formed one family with Mary and Joseph. According to John 2:12, His brethren accompanied Him, together with Mary and His disciples, from Nazareth to Capernaum. They are placed before His disciples, for Jesus had not as yet assumed any public character. Mary and His brethren seem to have accompanied Him in the character of His domestic circle. Still greater prominence is given to this circle in the scene (Mark 3:20), where He is occupied with the multitudes in the full activity of His ministry, and His adversaries are already opposing Him with undisguised malice. His friends, or His family (οἱ παρʼ αὐôïῦ), it is said, went out to lay hold on Him, for they said, He is beside Himself. Undoubtedly, these persons were the same of whom it is said, Mark 3:32, Thy mother and Thy brethren without seek for Thee. In what relation, then, did Jesus stand to these brethren? To answer this question is a perplexing task; since the hints which must decide it are but scantily given in the New Testament. The matter, too, which is difficult enough in itself, has been still further perplexed by various and opposing dogmatic prepossessions. From the midst of this confusion, however, four chief hypotheses appear. The first explanation of the circumstance, supposes that these brethren of Jesus were His own brothers on the mother’s side; sons of the marriage of Joseph and Mary, born after Jesus. The expression, brethren (ἀδελφοί), whose constant use in pointing out family connections, at all events, suffers us to infer brotherly relationship in a narrower sense, favours this view.2 Besides, it is said (Matthew 1:25) of Mary, Joseph knew her not till she had brought forth her first-born son; and (Luke 2:7) she brought forth her first-born son. The remark on the connection between Joseph and Mary, seems to point to subsequent marital association; the appellation, her first-born son, seems to relate to brothers born subsequently. This view is especially favoured by Protestants, in opposition to the Romish veneration of Mary, and declaration of her perpetual virginity. The opposite view understands by the brethren of Jesus His cousins. It arises from the general assumption, that the word brother was often used by the Hebrews in a wider sense, and consequently included the ἀνεψιός, the cousin or relation. It finds, however, a safer starting-point in the passage, John 19:25. Here, according to the prevailing view of the passage, Mary the wife of Cleophas, is represented as sister of Mary the mother of Jesus. We cannot, however, avoid considering the names Cleophas and Alpheus identical, when so pressing an occasion for doing so as this occurs.1 For the same Mary is, in Matthew 27:56, spoken of as the mother of James and Joses. Now, there was among the disciples one bearing the name of James the son of Alpheus, James the son of this Mary. But if Joses were his brother, as appears also from Mark 15:40, we have already two of the names appearing in the list of Jesus’ brethren. We have next to consider the circumstance, that the author of the Epistle of Jude calls himself the servant of Jesus Christ, the brother of James. He is undoubtedly the same who is mentioned by Luke in the apostolic catalogue as Jude the brother of James. This James, however, cannot be James the Great, since he is always connected with his brother John. But if he were James the Less, Jude, as well as James and Joses, is also a son of Alpheus. Now the brethren of Jesus are called James, Joses,2 Juda, and Simon (Mark 6:3). If, then, we here introduce the information of Eusebius and Hegesippus, that Simeon, Bishop of Jerusalem, who suffered martyrdom under Trajan, was a son of Cleophas, we have four sons of Cleophas who bear the same names as the brethren of Jesus. Thus the brethren of Jesus were His cousins. The third view is, that Joseph had been married before his espousal to Mary, and that it is the children of this marriage whom Matthew and Mark call the brethren of Jesus. This view is founded upon apocryphal legends. According to some of these legends,3 Joseph is said to have had a wife named Esha; according to others, Salome; and to have had by her four sons, James, Joses, Simon, and Juda, and two daughters, Esther and Thamar; according to others, Mary and Salome, the mother of Zebedee’s children. This opinion was defended by many fathers and theologians, especially by Origen and Grotius. It has been remarked against it, that it seems to have arisen from merely doctrinal prejudices, viz., for the sake of harmonizing the scriptural account of the brothers and sisters of Jesus with notions of the immaculate purity of Mary. But, at any rate, it explains, in a simple manner, on one hand, the family relationship of these four brethren to Jesus, and, on the other, the circumstance that they nowhere appear in the Gospel in the intimate relation of own brethren to Him, and especially that the names of his sisters are not once mentioned. Finally, the references in the Gospels, of James the Less to his father Alpheus, of Mary the wife of Cleophas to her sons James and Joses, of the Jude who wrote the Epistle bearing his name to James, have caused others to regard the four brethren of Jesus and their sisters as children of Mary the wife of Cleophas and of Joseph, through a Levirate marriage, for the purpose of raising up seed; to the childless Cleophas, the brother of Joseph. Theophylact, among others, supported this view. This would very well explain why only James should be decidedly mentioned as the son of Alpheus, while the rest of the brethren and sisters of Jesus are not so described. But as Schaf rightly remarks, the absurdity and unfitness of a double marriage on Joseph’s part, speaks against this view. In this case, Joseph would have been husband at the same time to the widow of his brother and to the mother of Jesus, for there seems no reason to suppose that he had separated from the latter. Not wishing to bestow too large a space upon this question, we but briefly communicate the result of our view of the family relations of Jesus, accompanied by a statement of the reasons which have determined it. That Mary lived after the birth of Jesus in marital intercourse with Joseph, in the stricter sense, seems to result from the passage cited. It cannot, however, be certainly concluded from it, since it only directly denies the fact of such intercourse having taken place before the birth of Christ.1 The designation of her son as the first-born, seems to be an emphatic expression, by no means intended to point out that she afterwards had other sons. The Evangelist could not here have been thinking of these sons, if she had had them. The uniqueness of this child wholly filled his mind. Christ is the first-born of the new human race, or rather the prince-born of mankind, and of the world. Paul calls Him so (Colossians 1:15), and why should not the Evangelist also thus name Him in a New Testament sense? The evangelical expression concerning the birth of Christ runs thus in Luke :2 ἔôåêå פὸν ץἱὸν בὑτῆò פὸν נסשפפןךןם. With Vater we read αὑτῆò, and translate, she brought forth her son, who was her own, the first-begotten. The Romish Church denies the sexual intercourse of the holy couple, in order to preach the perpetual virginity of Mary. Even Joseph is raised to the condition of perpetual virginity.3 We do not entertain those doctrinal prejudices which require such a view; and for this reason, that the ethic notion of virginity stands higher with us than the physical. The view of virginity which cannot rise above the physical notion, has led to many coarse discussions and definitions. But though in this inquiry we may insist on laying special weight upon Mary’s frame of mind, though we conceive that her state of heavenly inspiration raised her far above the region of matrimonial relations, yet we must not forget that Mary was the wife of Joseph. She was, according to a ratified engagement, dependent upon her husband’s will. But it would be only upon the strongest testimony that we could admit that Mary became the mother of other children after the birth of Christ. No doctrinal grounds, in a narrower sense, prepossess us against this admission, but religio-philosophical and physical considerations, which indeed indirectly form themselves into doctrinal ones, inasmuch as all views must terminate in one christological view. As a wife, Mary was subject to wifely obligations; but, as a mother, she had fulfilled her destiny with the birth of Christ. The sacred organism of this woman, which had once contained the germ of the new humanity, which creative omnipotence had, by a stroke of heavenly influence, made to bring forth the manifestation of eternal life, was independent of the will of man and his fluctuations. And even for the very sake of nature’s refinement, we cannot but imagine that this organism, which had borne the Prince of the new æon, would be too proudly or too sacredly disposed, to lend itself, after bringing forth the life of Christ, to the production of more common births for the sphere of the old æon. A glance, too, into the Gospel history, will convince us that it is very improbable that Jesus had younger brothers and sisters. It is usual for a spirit like His to carry along with it the younger members of a family. From their first breath, they are under the influence of his superior force of character. If, then, Jesus had had brethren younger than Himself, we might expect that they would have surrendered themselves to Him with enthusiasm, and not have given Him anxiety as dissentients. We find, however, exactly the reverse. The brethren of Jesus seem, with relation to Him, to have early taken up the position of decided Jews. Their unbelief, mentioned by John (John 7:3 John 7:6), has indeed been too much smoothed over. That they intended to deride Him, is indeed not to be imagined. They were probably unbelieving in a similar sense to those Jews who wanted to make Him a king (John 6:15), i.e., without submission to His self-determination, without obedience. They could not reconcile themselves to his rule of life, but wanted Him to realize their Messianic notions. Nor would younger own brothers of Jesus, and children of Mary, have brought Mary herself into a dissentient position, and have ventured to give themselves the appearance of acting in concert with His mother, in their desire to restrain Him in His activity. But if we accept the view that these brethren were, some of them at least, older than Jesus, we cannot fail to remember that journey from the Passover in which His parents missed the child Jesus. For they lost Him through their assumption that He was among his kinsfolk and acquaintances (ἐν τοῖς συγγενέσι καὶ ἐν τοῖς γνωστοῖς, Luke 2:44). Here relations are certainly spoken of as distinct from friends and acquaintances, and indeed from boy-relatives; since, as has been shown, we must suppose a separate train of boys. These boys must have been older than twelve, since those who were younger were left at home. Since, then, we certainly know of the existence of brethren of Jesus, and have found occasion to suppose that some of them were older than He, we are obliged to conclude that they were either His half-brothers or cousins, for Mary had, in any case, no elder sons. We now turn to the passage John 19:25, to obtain information concerning the sister of Christ’s mother. It is here said: There stood by the cross of Jesus, His mother, and His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene. According to the usual interpretation, three women are here named, while the sister of Jesus’ mother is further designated the wife of Cleophas. On the other hand, however, Wieseler offers another interpretation.1 He points out, first, that the sentence may easily be so construed as to speak of four women: Mary the mother of Jesus, her sister, whose name is not stated, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene. He then supposes this unnamed sister to have been Salome, the mother of Zebedee’s children. The arguments which he adduces in favour of this view, seem to us decisive. First, it is improbable that two sisters should both bear the name of Mary. Secondly, the statements of the two first Evangelists both lead to this view (Matthew 27:56, comp. Mark 15:40); Matthew saying that the mother of Zebedee’s sons, and Mark that Salome was present at the crucifixion. John must at all events have been acquainted with this circumstance; and who could suppose that he would, in this passage, pass over his mother? But if he certainly has mentioned her, we can understand that he should maintain that same reserve of style with which he mentioned himself as the disciple whom Jesus loved. Thus also he designates his mother only in a periphrasis, by which he avoids pointing out his relation to her and mentioning her name. It is to this circumstance that we owe the information that Salome was a sister of Mary, and that consequently James and John, the sons of Zebedee, must be considered the cousins of Jesus. From this relationship Wieseler explains the circumstance, that these two brethren should unite with their mother in asking for the first places in the kingdom of Christ (Matthew 20:20-28; Mark 10:35-45). Even Christ’s legacy on the cross, by which he delivered the care of Mary to John, becomes, according to Wieseler’s remark, still more comprehensible, when the relationship here pointed out is assumed.2 But perhaps it is of more importance, that this relationship confirms also the relationship of the family of Jesus to that of John the Baptist. It is among the Baptist’s disciples that we first meet with the Apostle John. It is he who has preserved to us the most significant utterances of the Baptist concerning Jesus. As an intimate of John, he was present at his answer to the deputation sent to him from Jerusalem, and this circumstance might have been the means of his becoming acquainted with the family of the high priest. All this does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that the theologic and christologic John must have been related to the Baptist; but when we learn elsewhere that Salome was a sister of Mary, and Mary a relation of Elisabeth, we obtain a view of a connection between these three families which may explain much. We can then no longer esteem the sons of Alpheus as cousins of Jesus, on the supposition that the wife of Cleophas was a sister of Mary. Thus much, however, may be with certainty affirmed from a consideration of the group of women at the foot of the cross, that Mary the wife of Cleophas was very nearly related to the Lord and to His mother. But Hegesippus informs us, after Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. iii. 11), that Cleophas was a brother of Joseph. We have no positive reasons for rejecting this ancient historical testimony. We have already seen that many theologians have founded upon this information the hypothesis that Joseph was own father to the children of this Mary the wife of Cleophas, by having occupied the place of his deceased brother. The objection to this view has already been stated. We may then preliminarily consider these enigmatical brethren of Jesus as sons of Cleophas. They were merely His cousins (ἀνεψιοί), and not His brothers. Nay, they were no blood-relations at all, but cousins-in-law. How, then, did they come under the designation of brethren? In the simplest manner possible. Cleophas probably died while his children were still young. And this would cause Joseph, who was, we are informed, a just Israelite, to take in the widow and her children, and to adopt the latter. Since, however, Joseph died while Jesus was yet young, as many of these adopted brothers of Jesus, who might rightly be named His brethren, as were older than He, would properly become the heads of this Nazarene household. These young Jews might long maintain their own will against the younger brother, with whom they were only legally connected. As elder members of His family, they might even desire to have Him under their direction, though their Jewish pride might already have rejoiced in His fame. Finally, such a Jewish family spirit might have prevailed among them, that even Mary, a dependent woman, might have been so far led away, as, on one occasion, to join with them in desiring to arrest her Son’s course. This took place during the second year of Christ’s ministry. Jesus was already obliged to send His disciples to Jerusalem alone, having first definitely chosen and set apart twelve. He already numbered two of His brethren among them, though the circumstance that they are mentioned last in every catalogue of the apostles, shows that they were, at any rate, among the last who entered the company.1 They might nevertheless have attempted to check His course, as Peter subsequently did, when Jesus was about to enter upon His sufferings. Christ’s reproof of the untimely interference of His family by the words, ‘Behold My mother and My brethren;’ &c. (Mark 3:34), must be compared with the saying with which He rebuked Peter, ‘Get thee behind Me, Satan’ (Matthew 16:23), if we would recognize the identity of the two positions, and, at the same time, comprehend that the brethren of Jesus, though still, when viewed in the light of the subsequent pentecostal season, unbelieving, i.e., self-willed and gloomy, could nevertheless be apostles. They were probably, in part at least, men of strong, firm natures.1 Judas seems, in his unbending firmness, to have been the leading spirit of this Nazarene family, on which account, perhaps, the surname Lebbeus or Thaddeus, the courageous, the free-hearted, seems to have been given him.2 The Epistle of Jude needs only to be read, to recognize such a character in every line. In the school of Jesus, respect was had to the real nobility of peculiar gifts, even though they often manifested themselves in peculiar errors; hence the sons of Zebedee were named the sons of thunder, Simon called Peter, while Jude received the characteristic name of Lebbeus or Thaddeus. It is therefore now clear to us, that the remark concerning the unbelief of the brethren of Jesus is not opposed to the fact of their being included among the apostles, as related by the Evangelist, especially when we reflect that this family spirit of opposition to the Messianic progress of Christ might have reached its climax in the persons of Joses and Simon. But before regarding our conclusions as established, we must glance at those passages in the apostolic epistles which have been thought opposed to them. It seems from the Epistle to the Galatians (Galatians 1:19, Galatians 2:9 and Galatians 2:12), that a James was, together with Peter and John, held in the very highest esteem by the Church at Jerusalem, nay, that he represented, in a peculiar sense, the Jewish-Christian party. Now it has been supposed, that we may infer from the passages in question, that this James, as a brother of the Lord, is distinguished from the apostles. In conformity with this notion, some translate Galatians 1:19, ‘I saw no other apostle than Peter, but yet I saw James.’ This is, however, at all events, a forced view; a simpler one leads to the translation, ‘other apostles saw I none, save James the Lord’s brother.’3 And the Epistle to the Galatians in general, when more strictly considered, offers evidence that this James could be no other than the Apostle James, the son of Alpheus. In its second chapter, the Apostle Paul designates him as one of the three apostolic men who were regarded as pillars of the Church. He appears to have been that apostolic individual upon whom the opponents of St Paul most relied. These opponents denied the apostolical authority of St Paul. They reproached him with having no historical mission (Galatians 1:1), with not being appointed by Christ Himself, as the other apostles had been. They thus opposed his ecclesiastical legitimacy. Now it is in the highest degree improbable, that these early zealots for the succession theory should have opposed to St Paul the name of one who, in the sense in which they rejected Paul, was himself no legitimate apostle.1 The spirit of the Church at Jerusalem had not indeed become so carnal as to number one who was not an apostle among the apostles, merely on account of his brotherhood with Christ. In this case, Joses would also have been an apostle. But if James were an apostle, besides being a brother of the Lord, this latter fact would much enhance his credit, and the Jewish party might lay an emphasis on this appellation with a view of depressing the credit of Paul. On careful consideration, then, of the inner meaning of this contrast, we cannot but esteem the James of the Jewish party to have been the Apostle James. The book of the Acts, too, leads to the same conclusion. In the list of the apostles, Acts 1:13, we find the two well-known apostles of this name. Acts 12:1-25 relates the martyrdom of James the Great. Subsequently we find but one James spoken of (Acts 12:17, Acts 15:13, Acts 21:18). Now it is quite natural, that after one James had been removed from the scene, the designation, the son of Alpheus, should be omitted after the name of the other. But if a brother of the Lord had gradually attained great consideration, it is in the highest degree improbable that he should have meanwhile become an apostle, and still more so, that as an apostle he should have eclipsed this James, the son of Alpheus (whom we besides already know as the Lord’s brother). But it would be utterly impossible that his name should forthwith have become so exclusively renowned, that it should have no longer been found necessary to distinguish him from James the son of Alpheus, if the latter were distinct from him. When, finally, we consider the two epistles which have been attributed to the brethren of the Lord, we find no fresh grounds for the view which distinguishes these relatives of Jesus from the apostles. It has been remarked, that James, in his epistle, does not call himself an apostle, but a servant of God and of Jesus Christ. In answer to this, it is replied, that St John also does not call himself an apostle in his epistle. Probably the choice of the words, a servant of Jesus Christ, may have been caused, in the cases of both James and Jude, by a feeling of humility, which impelled them thus strongly to express their spiritual dependence upon Christ, in contrast with that honourable title which they bore in the Church. The author of the Epistle of Jude ingeniously styles himself the servant of Jesus Christ, and brother of James. He seems to desire indirectly to designate himself as the brother of Jesus, though his heart impels him first to announce his dependence upon Him. The expression ‘of the holy apostles,’ ver. 17, cannot possibly be looked upon as excluding him from the apostles; for he is speaking of the apostles only in a very limited manner, viz., so far as they had beforehand announced to the Church that in the last days there should be dangerous mockers. All the apostles, as such, can hardly be spoken of here; and least of all can they be mentioned in contrast to Jude. That the whole epistle entirely corresponds with the character of Lebbeus or Thaddeus, has already been mentioned.1 Jesus, then, grew up in a remarkable household, which had been fashioned by the storms of life, by want, and by love. Two sisters-in-law of similar names were the matrons of the circle. The children of Cleophas, with whom Jesus lived as brothers and sisters, seem to have manifested the same upright, sensible, and decided kind of character which distinguished Joseph, but to have had but little mental riches or profundity. They were no blood-relations of Jesus. Without imputing direct blame to these relatives, or in any way impugning their sincerity and worth, we may say that the sorrows which the mother of Jesus and her Son may have experienced in such a circle, are written in their secret history. This connection was a sad, yet blessed necessity. Jesus, however, in His dying hour, felt it most suited to his mother’s feelings to give her John for a son. Paul was on the most friendly terms with the Lord’s brother, though his disposition formed the greatest contrast to his own.2 It was the advice of this James which brought about the catastrophe of his life. It was not without deliberation that the early Church received into the canon the epistles of the Lord’s brethren; and even Luther ventured upon a severe condemnation of the Epistle of James. It was certainly from no family partiality that Jesus made these temperate but sincere characters, James and Jude, pillars of His Church. He used them as instruments of spreading His Gospel, for those who were zealous for the law, not only in Israel, but in all the world; well knowing, that there were numbers who could only be reached by such instrumentality. But their special vocation was to watch against all dissoluteness and antinomianism; and these errors they opposed like heroes, Jude attacking the former, and James the latter. According to Mark 6:3; Mark 6:1 the Nazarenes called Jesus Himself ‘the carpenter.’ In Matthew the term is exchanged for ‘the carpenter’s son’ (Matthew 13:53). The tradition of the early Church, however, agrees with Mark in the belief that Jesus, in His youth, practised the trade of His father. Apocryphal writings describe Him as fashioning all kinds of wooden vessels.2 Justin Martyr relates, that Jesus made ploughs and yokes, thereby exhibiting symbols of righteousness, and inculcating an active life.3 This tradition, however, cannot be regarded as an historical certainty. But neither, on the other hand, can we raise any objection to the view, that Jesus should have laboured as an artizan. It has been remarked, that among the Jews no idea of degradation was attached to handicraft; even Paul practised a trade. Such an observation may facilitate our conception of the youthful activity of Jesus. But it must not be forgotten, that even a mind like that of Jacob Böhm the cobbler could, though in an aristocratic age, number noblemen among his pupils. If Christ really worked as a mechanic, He ennobled labour; that He who ennobled even the death of the innocent upon the accursed tree should be degraded by such a circumstance, can be a cause of anxiety only to the weakest minds. We may indeed suppose that it was in an ideal state of mind that He fashioned His vessels of wood, and that yokes and ploughs would become symbols in His hands. The sons of Alpheus, however, who with Jewish pride saw in Him the glory of Israel, who was to be manifested to the world (John 7:4; John 14:22), would hardly have suffered Him to work much. It may also have frequently occurred, that during His journeys to the festivals He passed some time in a circle of chosen ones, or that days and nights spent upon the mountain solitudes of Galilee in profound contemplation and fervent prayer, flew by as but an instant, in communion with God, to whom a thousand years are as one day. The forty days’ sojourn in the wilderness, which represents one single meditation or act of devotion, leads to the conclusion that He had before been frequently in a similar state of unconsciousness of the lapse of time.4 Thus, even in His youth, He was accustomed to the solemn loneliness of night, to the solitary ways of the Spirit amid desert solitudes, in which the heart is so susceptible of the secret influences of the all-present and living God. In the freedom of this course of life, which we claim for the Lord’s youthful years, and which Mary and her foster-family would themselves undoubtedly claim for Him, His bodily activity could not have been very great. His self-consciousness was strong enough to let Him allow Himself to be cared for in temporal things, by those who became through Him acquainted with a blessedness of which, but for Him, they could have formed no conception. If we now finally inquire into the extent of Christ’s worldly means, and consider Him, at one time, as quite poor, because His parents brought the offering of the poor in the temple, or because He had not where to lay His head; at another, as in prosperity, perhaps because He wore a seamless coat, or for similar reasons; we should, above all things, well consider that the glaring difference between poor and rich which prevailed in the old æon had no signification for Him. He knew neither the cares nor the desires which make the poor wretched; in communion with God, and in the abundance of His love, He was the richest of kings. And though He had possessed the richest of inheritances, He would still have been among the poorest, since He could have kept nothing for Himself. In communion with His Father, and His spiritual family whom He met with everywhere, He never felt want. But the riches in presence of which all want disappears, are a mysterious possession, a Messianic treasury, not to be estimated according to rates of worldly property. notes 1. Our view of the family of Jesus is as follows:- (1.) Cleophas was (according to Hegesippus) the brother of Joseph. (2.) Mary was his wife, and therefore sister-in-law to the mother of Jesus (John 19:25). (3.) This Mary was (according to Mark 15:40; comp. John 19:25) the mother of James the Less, and of Joses. (4.) This James, called the Less to distinguish him from James the Great in the apostolic catalogue, must therefore be identical with James the son of Alpheus. (5.) James the Less survived his parents as an apostle. When the Epistle of Jude was written, the other James was already dead. The author of the Epistle of Jude calls himself the brother of James. This designation makes it probable that he was the same Jude whom Luke calls, in the apostolic catalogue (Luke 6:16), Jude of James. Thus these apostolic men, James, Joses, and Jude, appear to have been brothers, sons of Alpheus, and in a civil sense, cousins of our Lord. (6.) According to Matthew 13:55, the brothers of Jesus are called James, Joses, Simon, and Judas. His sisters are only mentioned, and not named. In Mark 6:3, the order is James, Joses, Judas, and Simon; the first three names coinciding with those of the three sons of Alpheus. (7.) According to Hegesippus and Eusebius, Simeon, a son of Cleophas, suffered martyrdom under Trajan, as Bishop of Jerusalem. Consequently, the fourth among the brethren of Jesus is also found among the sons of Alpheus, and there can be no doubt that the sons of Alpheus were the brethren of Jesus. (8.) They were, in a legal sense, not merely cousins, but brothers, if Joseph had adopted them as the orphan-children of his deceased brother. That such adoptions were not uncommon, is proved by the circumstance that Christ enjoined one even on the cross. 2. By the brethren of Jesus, mentioned Acts 1:14, as distinct from the apostles, may be understood Joses and Simon. 3. The assumption that the names of Alpheus and Cleophas are identical, is claimed by Schaf in the corrections at the conclusion of the above-named brochure. He remarks first, that it is striking that it should be John (John 19:25) who uses the Aramæan, and Matthew and Mark (Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18) the Greek form. This difference may be easily explained. The expression, Mary of Cleophas, belonged to the Hebrew family tradition of the apostles; they seldom used it, and had no need to give it a Greek form. It was otherwise with the expression, James of Alpheus. The name James was one which the apostles were everywhere repeating within the sphere of the Church, and which they could not therefore but translate into its general language. The same circumstance explains the author’s second scruple, that Luke has both forms; for, on one occasion, he gives the name according to the form in which it would naturally appear in the græcized apostolic catalogue (Luke 6:15), on the other, he is relating an occurrence, to whose vivid representation it was more appropriate that the name of Cleophas, who is introduced as a speaker, should not be exchanged for Alpheus.1 ÷ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 70: 02.061. PART III ======================================================================== PART III THE ANNOUNCEMENT AND CHARACTER OF CHRIST’S PUBLIC MINISTRY ======================================================================== CHAPTER 71: 02.062. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I determination of the dates According to the statements of the Evangelist Luke, which appear to us well accredited, John was about half a year older than Jesus. To this difference in their ages, the difference in the time of their first public appearance most exactly corresponds. John had only for a short period entered on the exercise of his vocation, when Jesus arrived at the Jordan to prepare Himself by baptism for assuming His official functions. It was not to be expected that these two champions of Heaven (Gotteshelden) would begin their ministry before the completion of their thirtieth year. Reverence for their national institutions would deter them from committing such a violation of law and custom, which required that mature age for entering on any public office.1 But as little could it be supposed that they would delay beyond this highest point of their manly development, past the limits assigned by the law, to enter upon their divine mission. As, on the one hand, they were kept back by the law up to a certain age, and on the other, impelled by the power of the Spirit to lose no time when they had reached that limit, we may believe that they would carefully observe the exact time of entering on their office; just as the racer starts for the goal at the given signal, or a volley is fired at the exact moment. John might perhaps, during the winter season, delay the administration of baptism, but not the commencement of his ministry.1 Matthew does not state the exact time of John’s first public appearance. ‘In those days,’ he says, ‘came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea’ (Matthew 3:1). He does not mean those days in which Jesus first took up His abode at Nazareth, but that later period in which, by having resided there, He was regarded as belonging to that city (Matthew 2:23). Thus much we gather from this statement, that when the Baptist made his first appearance, Jesus was still residing at Nazareth. Luke informs us still more precisely that ‘in the fifteenth year of Tiberius Cæsar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of Ituræa and of the region of Trachonitis, and Lysanias the tetrarch of Abilene, Annas and Caiaphas being the high priests, the word of God came unto John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness; and he came into all the country round about Jordan, preaching the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins’ (Luke 3:1-3). Luke seems to distinguish the early prophetic ministry of John in the wilderness, from his coming forward at the Jordan as the Baptist.2 Even Matthew has in his eye a period of certain days, during which the preaching of John served as a preparation for the rite of baptism which he afterwards performed at the Jordan.3 Mark joins the two points of time in one; for the preaching of John was from the first an announcement that the people were to submit to a baptism of repentance; and John, as to his manner of life and position, was always in the wilderness; the region he occupied as the sphere of the preacher in the wilderness, formed a decided contrast to the region of the temple. Moreover, the wilderness of Judea, which lies between Kedron and the Dead Sea, and in which John first appeared as a preacher of repentance, is in the direction of the wilderness near Jericho, through which the Israelites travelled from Jerusalem to the Jordan, and not for from it.4 To the inhabitants of Jerusalem the two wildernesses might more easily seem to run into one another, because John probably had his proper residence still in the wilderness, even when he administered baptism. At all events, the greater number of the persons he baptized had to go through the wilderness in order to reach him. But a large district is always distinguished by its predominant character, and especially by the strong impression it makes by means of some one striking figure. And thus John was everywhere the Baptist in the wilderness, both in a symbolical and a literal sense.1 Now if John, as we must suppose from comparing his age with that of Jesus, was thirty years old in the autumn of the year 779, he probably began to preach about that time. Meanwhile the winter set in, and he could not enter on the administration of baptism before the mild spring-weather of 780; by that time a movement had commenced among the people, and the season suitable for their great lustration had arrived. Jesus also, having about this time completed His thirtieth year, presented Himself for baptism. After His baptism He passed forty days in the wilderness; subsequently, He spent short portions of time at Cana, Nazareth, and Capernaum, probably occupied in the first quiet beginnings of His ministry. Then came the spring of the year 781; and now He went up to the Passover at Jerusalem for the first time in the capacity of a prophet, discharged His office in the midst of the people, and effected the purification of the temple. Two years before the death of Augustus, about the year 765, Tiberius was raised to share the imperial throne;2 but in the year 767 Augustus died. As John probably appeared as the Baptist at the Jordan in the summer of 780, after introducing the rite in the autumn and winter of 779, we must suppose that Luke has included in his reckoning the previous regency of Tiberius. On this supposition, the year 779 would be the fifteenth year of Tiberius.3 As great numbers had been baptized before Christ presented Himself at the Jordan, we may presume that He was not baptized till late in the summer of 780. But when He purified the temple at the Passover, in 781, the Jews asked Him by what sign He could accredit that act. On His answering, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up,’ they rejoined, ‘Forty-six years was this temple in building, and wilt Thou rear it up in three days?’ The building of Herod’s temple was still in progress, though it was begun before the Passover of 735, and as 46 years had passed since that time, the conversation of Christ with the Jews occurred in the year 781.1 The ministry of John, who probably changed his first station on the banks of the Jordan for one higher up, lasted most likely to the winter of the year 781. While he was baptizing in Galilee, Christ was occupied in Judea. At the time of John’s imprisonment in Galilee, the supreme council at Jerusalem began to watch the rising reputation of Jesus with an unfriendly eye, in consequence of which He left Judea and retired into Galilee.2 In the spring of the next year, 782, John was still in prison, and it was then he sent the well-known deputation to Christ, which, according to Matthew 11:1-2, appears to have been at the close of the first journeying of Christ through Galilee, and therefore before His visit to the feast of Purim, narrated by the Evangelist John. The beheading of John took place not long after, probably between the feast of Purim and the Passover of 782.3 Christ did not publicly attend the Passover of this year, but the following one, in 783. The first feast-day of this year, which began with eating the Passover the preceding night, was a Friday.4 In addition to the chronological datum by which Luke fixes the time of John’s ministry, he has given other historical indications,5 which are contained in the passage quoted above. Of these the first is, that Pontius Pilate was then governor of Judea: he filled that office ten years,-namely, from the end of 778 or the beginning of 779 to the year 789. In Luke’s description, Herod appears as tetrarch of Galilee. This was the Herod Antipas who beheaded John the Baptist. He held this dignity from the death of his father, Herod the Great, till some years after the death of Christ, but lost it in the year 792. In the third place, Philip is named as being then tetrarch of Ituræa and Trachonitis. He reigned from the death of Herod, at the time of the return of the Holy Family from Egypt, to the year 786. Though all these specifications agree with the history of the times as gathered from other sources, yet some critics believe they have detected a great error in the account of the fourth of the Syrian princes, namely, that Lysanias was tetrarch of Abilene. From Josephus (Antiq. xv. 4, § 1) and Dio Cassius (xlix. 32) we learn that, sixty years before the time in which the Lysanias of Luke must have lived, a Lysanias of Abilene was assassinated, and that Cleopatra obtained a part of his dominions; while Josephus says nothing of a Lysanias who reigned about the time of Christ. In this case, according to the demands of a noted critic, the silence of the Jewish historian is to be held decisive against the testimony of the Christian; the inference follows directly, that the latter made an error of sixty years in his account, or held the current designation of that province as the Abilene of Lysanias to be a sufficient ground for assuming that Abilene was then governed by a Lysanias.1 Those who regard the statement, as it stands, as incorrect, and yet think they can escape the consequence that Luke was mistaken, effect their object by reading the passage modified in one way or another. Dr Paulus thinks that the passage is to be read in connection with the preceding clause, thus: ‘At that time Philip was tetrarch over Ituræa and Trachonitis, and over the Abilene of the tetrarch Lysanias.’ This translation is obtained either by omitting τετραρχοῦíôïò after Abilene (with Codex L.); or by reading καὶ τῆò ֻץףבםיןῦ Ἀβιληνῆò פופסבסקןῦντος, and construing τετραρχοῦíôïò with Φιλίππου; or, lastly, by a forced interpretation translating the text as it stands, in the manner specified. But not only the arbitrary liberty taken with the text and its obvious meaning tells against such an expedient, but likewise the circumstance that it is not only destitute of proof, but is in the highest degree improbable, that Philip, besides his own territory, should have obtained Abilene from the Roman power.2 It is therefore much simpler to leave the district of Abilene to Lysanias, though we know nothing further about him, than to make it over to Philip, to whom the history does not assign it-indeed, from whose tetrarchy it plainly distinguishes that of Lysanias.3 Moreover, positive considerations present themselves, as Wieseler in his often quoted work has shown,1 which justify Luke’s statement.2 First of all, it is worthy of notice that, according to Josephus (Antiq. xv. 6, § 4), Cleopatra obtained only a part of the possessions of Lysanias. Wieseler infers, that most probably the remainder was left to the heirs of Lysanias, from the circumstance that at a later period one Zenodorus appears as farming the inheritance of Lysanias (Antiq. xv. 10, § 1). Wieseler concludes that he probably entered into this engagement because the heirs of Lysanias, being minors, were under guardianship. Then, lastly, the territory of Lysanias is mentioned by Josephus as a tetrarchy, which in the year 790 was given with the tetrarchy of Philip, by the Emperor Caius Caligula, to Agrippa. From these several indications the critic just named concludes, that between the years 734-790 there must have been a younger Lysanias who governed Abilene as a tetrarch.3 As the earlier Lysanias is not designated a tetrarch, the fact is of importance, that Pococke describes a coin which names on its superscription a tetrarch Lysanias; and the same traveller discovered an inscription in a temple on the summit of the ancient Abila, 15 English miles from Damascus, which also speaks of the tetrarch Lysanias of Abilene. But the notices in Josephus already mentioned are quite sufficient to introduce the historic testimony of Luke. To the preceding chronological data Luke adds the striking statement, that ‘Annas was high priest, and Caiaphas.’ It has been supposed that Annas is placed first because he was the Nasi or president of the Sanhedrim, while Caiaphas was the officiating high priest in the matter of sacrifices.4 But Caiaphas (according to John 18) evidently appears as the proper judge of Jesus; but he was His judge, not as high priest, but as president of the Sanhedrim.5 Moreover, the Romans, who had less to do with the sacrificing priest than with the presidency of the Sanhedrim, would have thought it of no consequence to remove Annas from the high-priesthood, if that measure had not, in fact, mainly dealt with the presidency of the supreme civil tribunal. Luke seems to mark that degradation of the high-priesthood ironically, when he speaks of a high priest (αρχιερεως) Annas, and Caiaphas; the one, that is to say, had the influence, the other the office. In like manner Annas appears in John (John 18:4): not as president of the council, but as father-in-law of Caiaphas, he had the honour of having Jesus first sent to him. Caiaphas is the high priest ‘that same year.’ At a period when the office of high priest changed hands so often, he figured as the high priest of the year; but in the national feeling the real, permanent high priest was Annas. It was Caiaphas who uttered the official adage, that ‘it was expedient one man should die for the people’-an inconsiderate expression, which evinced neither great political wisdom nor a noble disposition, but which in a higher sense might be regarded as an unconscious prophecy of the atonement.1 According to the before-named chronological limits of the ministry of John the Baptist, he was probably engaged in it for half a year before he had fully aroused the people and called them to baptism. After that, he was about a year and a half occupied in baptizing them. Finally, his imprisonment appears to have lasted about half a year. A doubt has been expressed, whether it was possible for John, in the short space of time allowed him by the Evangelists, to make so great an impression on his nation. But if we bear in mind that the infinitely superior ministry of Christ was comprised in the space of two years and a half, we shall find it very conceivable that two years sufficed John for his vocation. Indeed, John must already in the first half-year have agitated his nation, in order to appear as the Baptist. But would it require more than half a year to set Israel in motion when the message resounded, ‘The kingdom of the Messiah is at hand! Come, purify yourselves, in order to enter it!’ The history of the false messiahs shows that the people were easily set in motion by an announcement of the Messiah’s advent. But, apart from the wonderful effect of this message on the theocratic nation, we need only look back on the middle ages, or into the history of Methodism, to be convinced how speedily a great preacher of repentance, simply as such, can agitate the popular mind. We may here be reminded how the theses of Luther spread like wildfire. En peu d’heure, Dieu labeure, is a French proverb expressive of the agency of God generally. But this will apply with peculiar force to the agency of God in critical periods of the world’s history.2 We must regard those minds as ill endowed who have no perception that God in His kingdom often works by voices, thunder, and lightnings (Revelation 8:5). But in reference to John, we might wonder that the widely extended ministry of such a man left behind so slight an effect, if we did not also recollect that the splendour of his career was lost in that of Jesus, as the morning star before the sun; while in the school of ‘John’s disciples’ only the long shadow of the expiring remains of its Jewish restrictedness has been thrown across the world’s history. John described himself as ‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.’ He exerted an influence suited to his gifts and destiny, which were intended to arouse and prepare, not to fulfil and satisfy. ‘He was a burning and a shining light,’ according to the words of Christ. Does such a fiery signal at the outset of a great history require much time? Certainly much time, says the critic.1 Does the sharp note of an overture, wherewith one stroke announces the character of the piece and prepares the audience for it, require much time? Surely, thinks the questioner, the instruments take a long time before they are in perfect tune. The world’s history pronounces otherwise, and herein agrees with art. It is the office of a historical period to tune the instruments for a new epoch; but when this opens, new operations succeed, stroke upon stroke, like lightning and thunder. Clement of Alexandria calls the Baptist the voice or sound of the Logos. This expression is ingenious; though we must remark that the Logos has His own peculiar sound, and John his own special mode of thought (sein eigenthmlich Logisches) proceeding from the life of the Logos. If we adhere to Clement’s figurative language, we may say that John is to be regarded as a clear trumpet-tone in which the Israelitish feeling for the Messiah expressed itself, and His forthcoming manifestation was announced; or as the clear response which the sound of the incarnate Eternal Word, in His New Testament fulness, called forth in the last and noblest prophet of the Old Testament dispensation. notes 1. Abilene, the territory belonging to the town of Abila, was a district of Anti-Lebanon towards the east of Hermon; it sloped from Anti-Lebanon towards the plain of Damascus. 2. It is as little possible to learn the special tendency of the Baptist from the tendency of the later sect called ‘John’s Disciples,’ as to form a judgment of a believer who is awakened to a new life from the workings of his old sinful nature in his subsequent history. The so-called John’s disciples, who formed themselves into a sect hostile to Christianity, represent John’s old Adam; they form the great historical shadow of the great Prophet-the cast-off slough of a religious genius, thrown off when he put on Christ, and whose violent death in Galilee prefigured the violent death of Christ in Jerusalem. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 72: 02.063. SECTION II ======================================================================== Section II john the baptist John the Baptist, in his manifestation and agency, was like a burning torch; his public life was quite an earthquake-the whole man was a sermon; he might well call himself a voice-‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord’ (John 1:23). But if we attempt to seize the characteristic features of this great phenomenon, we shall be able plainly to distinguish the Nazarite, the prophet, and the religious reformer in a more confined sense, although these characteristics are combined in him in a most living expressive unity. He ‘grew and waxed strong’ in the virgin solitudes of nature (Luke 1:80). In his excursions from the hill-country of Judea, he had become acquainted with the sacred loneliness of the adjacent desert region,1 and here the Spirit of the Lord had spoken to his spirit.2 In chosen privation as a free son of the wilderness, he had accustomed himself to the simplest diet; locusts and wild honey sufficed him. He clothed himself in raiment of camel’s hair, with a leathern girdle about his loins.3 Thus the Nazarite assumed the form of the preacher of repentance. But he also knew the significance of his Nazarite vow; he knew that he had to lead back Israel from the illusions of their formalized temple-worship into the wilderness, from which they had at first emerged as the people of the law, that they might purify themselves in the wilderness for the new economy of the kingdom of God. The Nazarite is a preacher of repentance in the deeply earnest tone of his soul, and therefore in the pensive seriousness of his appearance. It does not, however, in the least follow from this devoted man’s mode of life that he wished to convert others into ascetics like himself.4 He was perfectly aware of the singularity of his position, and knew how, with noble freedom, to appreciate other modes of life, and especially higher spiritual stages. But that the persons who became his disciples must have accommodated themselves to his peculiar habits, lies in the very nature of such a connection. They were his assistants in administering baptism, and must therefore have complied with the pre-requisites of this employment-of this symbolic preaching of repentance.5 But the divine commission which constituted him a prophet was the revelation that the kingdom of God was at hand for His people; that therefore the Messiah, as the founder of this kingdom, was forthcoming, and that he was destined to prepare the way for Him. The Spirit of God had also assured him, that by a divine sign the individual would be manifested to him whom he would have to point out as the Lord and Founder of this kingdom. He had become familiar with the idea and presentiment of this destination while under his parents’ roof; but the absolute conviction which made him a prophet was imparted by the Spirit of the Lord, at the close of his youthful preparation, in the wilderness. First of all, he had the certainty that the Messiah was already living, though unknown, among the people; then at the decisive moment, on the banks of the Jordan, he received a divine disclosure respecting His person. Such, therefore, was the presentiment, the inspiration, the function and divine mission of his life-to announce the advent of the Messiah, and to make a path for Him in the souls of the people. He was, so to speak, the individualized and final prophetic presentiment of the Messiah among His own people. And only thus, as the herald of Christ, is he an organically necessary and historically conceivable phenomenon.1 But the prophet, from his wide, clear survey of the pilgrimages to Jerusalem, had from early life been cognizant of the moral and religious decay evinced in the temple-righteousness of his people. He saw through the corruption of the Pharisees and scribes with all the indignation of a genuine Israelite. The holy zeal of all the prophets was concentrated in the lofty repugnance of his powerful soul, and made him in a more restricted sense one of those men of zeal who appeared in Israel in critical moments, as restorers of the damaged Theocracy: such were Phinehas (Numbers 25:7) and Elijah; and such was Jesus Himself on the occasions when He purified the temple. In this zeal John became an administrator of baptism, or the Baptist. The whole nation appeared to him, as they really were, unworthy and incapable of entering the holy kingdom of the New Covenant, but most of all their leaders and representatives. It was to him a certain fact, that a great general declension had taken place from the spirit of true Judaism, and that even the better sort needed first to undergo a great purification to enable them to receive the King of Israel; and that, after all, the winnowing fan of this King would be needed to separate the chaff from the wheat. The leaders of the people appeared to him mostly as serpents and vipers, in their thoroughly hypocritical natures, and the people in general polluted by the unclean beasts of their evil passions; and thus, according to the law, a great universal purification was required.2 The theocratic zealot, therefore, preached the baptism of repentance for the reception of the coming One. With unparalleled boldness he met the Israelitish community with the solemn declaration, that the whole camp was unclean, and that they must first undergo a holy ablution before they could enter into the new community. Thus he, in fact, excommunicated the whole nation, and prescribed for it a symbolical repentance, as a preparation for entering the social communion of the Messiah. The application which John, in his theocratic zeal, made of the rite of holy ablution to his polluted nation, accounts for the institution of his baptism. It was among the requirements of the law, that the Jewish proselytes were to undergo this washing when they passed over from the camp of the unclean, the heathen, to the camp of the clean, the Israelites. But John needed not this inducement to practise baptism. As restorer of the Theocracy, he recognized its necessity as soon as to his inspired theocratic wrath the conviction was established, that Israel had become a camp of the unclean. On the other hand, he too well understood the difference between symbolical and real acts, to confound with his own baptism the sprinkling with clean water which the prophets (Ezekiel 36:25; Zechariah 13:1) had foretold, and which in a figurative manner denoted the Spirit-baptism of Christ itself.1 But still less could he fail to distinguish that symbolical act of which he was the administrator, from that anointing with oil which in the Old Testament represented the positive bestowment of the Messianic gifts of the Spirit, in distinction from the washing, which was the sign of negative consecration.2 John was perfectly aware that the true essential Baptizer was to come, who would first baptize with the oil of life, with the Holy Ghost, and with fire. It was his own mission to restore the community as members of the old economy, in order to present them pure and set apart for the transition into the kingdom of heaven. What he required of the people was in perfect accordance with this mission. Each individual was to purify himself as an Israelite, to change his mind in earnest repentance, and in consequence to put away the evil of his life, and to practise the virtues belonging to his national calling. Thus would he be fitted for receiving the higher baptism, that of Christ, the real participation of His new, heavenly life. The prophetic feeling of the Baptist did not deceive him. By those warnings with which, like a second Elijah, he stood forth in the wilderness of Judea, he succeeded in arousing and agitating the nation. The verdict of his zealous spirit, in which he described the theocratic commonwealth as polluted, and announced a baptism of purification, was acquiesced in by the people. They resorted to him at the Jordan in crowds. He received them with solemn reprimands, and exhorted them to conversion, and the practice of the neglected duties of mercy, brotherly love, honesty, and righteousness (Luke 3:11-14). But as for those who were borne along with the tide of the excited multitudes, and only came to submit to the symbolic rite as a new instrument of ceremonial righteousness, he calls them ‘a generation of vipers’ (Luke 3:7). They were induced to flee from the wrath to come, not by the Spirit of the Lord, but compelled by a regard to theocratic forms. Their fleeing was therefore pretended. They believed themselves, after all, to be safe from the coming wrath as children of Abraham. Therefore the prophet exclaimed, ‘Depend not on your descent; from these stones God can raise up children to Abraham.’ A spirit who could so mortify the Israelitish pride, who expressed in such strong terms the possibility of the call of the Gentiles into the kingdom of heaven, was no gloomy ascetic, no man of mere statutes. His words of rebuke were pointed quite specially at the Pharisees and Sadducees (Matthew 3:7). Whether they travelled in one caravan to the Jordan is not known; nor does it follow in the least from the language of the Evangelist. But at all events, to John’s spiritual vision they formed, according to their inner motives, a closely connected band, one caravan of hypocritical penitents. These Pharisees, indeed, followed the track of the people in their acknowledgment of John. The first powerful action of the prophet forced them to accommodate themselves to the popular feeling. They were also moved more or less by enthusiastic hopes of the advent of a Messiah according to their own mind. But as soon as the Pharisees stirred in this direction, the Sadducees were obliged to follow in their footsteps, according to their wont, in order to maintain before the people the appearance of orthodoxy.1 But John understood their real character; and yet he could not refuse to baptize them, since he had to treat them according to their profession, not according to the thoughts of their heart. It was this contrariety which kindled his wrath into a glowing flame, and led him to employ the strongest terms of censure.2 He could not deny them the possibility of reconciliation, but still felt himself compelled to announce the judgments which the Messiah would inflict on the wicked. In threatening accents he declared that the axe was laid at the root of the trees. With sadness he felt and confessed that he could baptize only with water the people as they stood before him, a mingled throng of persons eager for salvation, and of hypocritical pretenders. But it gave him consolation that he could announce a mightier One, before whose noble, kingly image his soul was humbled in the dust, with whom he dared not to associate himself, as being no better than a menial or a slave, since he had the feeling that he was not worthy of direct communion with Him.3 ‘I baptize you with water,’ he said, ‘but there cometh One after me who shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.’ Such was the Messiah in his sight; and thus was He to sanctify the people that they might become the people of the New Covenant. The baptism of fire must certainly be distinguished in this place from the baptism of the Spirit.4 This follows plainly from the image, according to which Christ purifies the grain of His threshing-floor with the winnowing fan, and then burns the chaff. But the Messiah, in fact, administers this twofold baptism in His whole career throughout the world’s history. The saving effects of his administration through time will be supplemented by the judgments which result from the rejection of His salvation. This law strikingly shows in the destruction of Jerusalem, as well as in many other fire-baptisms of historic notoriety, how judgment impends over those circles in which the baptism of the Spirit is despised; and so it will continue to the end of the world. It also holds good in the inner and outer life of the individual as he comes into contact with Christ-one of the two baptisms will be infallibly his portion. A man, in meeting with the Spirit of Christ, is either inflamed by the gentle glow of this Spirit, which arouses and purifies, renovates and transforms his life in all its depths; or he begins to burn with a lurid flame of antichristian rancour in destructive enmity against the kingdom and word of Christ. But in the more general contemplation, the fire-baptism may without hesitation be identified with the Spirit-baptism of Christ; and so much the more, because no one receives the salvation of the Christian spiritual life without passing through the fire of Christ’s judgment. That John formed a correct estimate of the supporters of the Jewish hierarchy, is proved by the attitude which they afterwards assumed against him. But equally was his confidence justified, that the Messiah was already living among the people. While many Pharisees had submitted to his baptism for the sake of appearance, Christ submitted in true obedience to this divine ordinance, because He thoroughly understood its significance for the people and for Himself. note John’s manner of life was not a completely isolated phenomenon. It occurred more frequently as a link between the order of the Nazarites and that of the prophets or the rabbinical vocation, and exhibited what was true in Essenism, namely, an abstemious hermit-life, which in its strictness, as contrasted with the general mode of living, was dedicated only to the people’s good. Such a recluse was Banus, the teacher of Josephus; his manner of life resembled that of John. See Vita Josephi, § 2; Neander’s Life of Christ, § 34. Josephus mentions John the Baptist incidentally, Antiq. xviii. 5, § 2: his account of John’s baptism is not at variance with that of the Evangelists. He represents John as requiring the people, in order to gain the divine favour, not merely to put away from them this or that particular sin, but to purify their souls by righteousness, and to join with that the consecration of the body by baptism. The special gist of John’s baptism, its relation to the kingdom of the Messiah, Josephus from his stand-point could not understand.÷ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 73: 02.064. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III the participation of jesus in the baptism of john The significance of John’s baptism, as explained in the preceding section, furnishes the simplest solution of the problem in modern theology, why Jesus submitted to that rite in order to fulfil all righteousness. Antagonistic critics have violently assailed the Apologetics of the Church with the question, How could Christ submit Himself to this baptism of repentance? At length they have distinctly proclaimed the consequence, that Christ, in submitting to John’s baptism, presented a confession of His own sinfulness.1 The explanations of the Church could not be satisfactory as long as the idea of the sacred ablutions of the Old Testament was not clearly understood. According to the Mosaic law, not only the corporeally unclean in Israel, as for example lepers, but also those who had touched unclean animals, or in a similar way had, according to the Levitical typology, defiled themselves, were excommunicated from the camp of the typically pure congregation.2 Readmission into the congregation could take place only after a given period, as was fitting for a case of uncleanness. But every Israelite whose object it was to recover the communion he had lost, was obliged to undergo the appointed religious ablution. And not only those who were unclean in their own life, or had directly defiled themselves, but those who came in contact with them, were involved in that exclusion, and a similar ablution preceded their readmission into the congregation.3 According to this enactment of the law, Christ also was obliged to submit to John’s baptism, as soon as He recognized it to be a purification of the people which John administered as a true prophet by an intimation of the Spirit of God. For He stood in the closest contact with the people who were regarded by the prophet as excommunicated. In God’s sight He was pure; but according to the Levitical law, as restored by the theocratic authority of the Baptist, and made by him into a sermon of repentance, He was unclean through His connection with an unclean people. On the principles of the Old Testament righteousness, therefore, His baptism was required. But the essential significance of the baptism of Jesus was the symbol of an actual relation. By baptism, Jesus was pointed out as the sacrificial Lamb of the world, laden with no other burden than His historical life-communion with the world. Considered in Himself alone, He might have had joy; but His connection with sin-laden humanity was the great reproach of His life, which led to His death. Thus His death became the real completion of the Israelitish baptism, and the foundation of baptism in its New Testament form and significance. John’s baptism in its highest point was a typical prophecy of the death of Jesus; Christian baptism, on the other hand, is a sacramental representation of the same event.1 But when Jesus came to be baptized, John the theocratic champion lost his lofty bearing. He who had reprimanded the members of the Sanhedrim as ‘a generation of vipers,’ exclaimed in tones of alarm to the consecrated Nazarene, ‘I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou to me?’ Thus the splendour of the New Testament broke forth from the verge of the Old.2 But the sternness of the Old Testament flashed across the dawn of the New when Christ said, ‘Suffer it to be so now; for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.’ Here the staves of the Old and New Testament righteousness form a cross. John represents the New Testament in the presence of Jesus; Jesus represents the Old Testament in the presence of John. The two economies manifest their relationship and unity by this junction of their contiguous links. We might say that the two covenants salute and bless one another in this holy rivalry; the one glorifies itself in the other, and from the glory of the first emerges the greater glory of the second. But the determination of Jesus prevailed, for He came not to dissolve the law, but to fulfil it; and He well knew that this baptism expressed that consecration of death for His people which was spread over His life. But by this wonderful humility of Jesus, John was prepared to receive the positive revelation, that this was the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world. At that very instant the feeling must have agitated him, that Jesus was necessitated only by communion with His people to submit to the humiliating ordinance of baptism-that He bore the sins of His people. notes 1. Strauss remarks, that according to Matthew 3:6, John appears to have required a confession of sins before baptism. Hence it would follow, that Jesus by submitting to baptism favoured the supposition that He was a sinner. The whole difficulty is obviated by the representation given above of the import of the baptism of Jesus. But, in addition, it is well to observe, that according to the words of Matthew, baptism and the confession of sins were identical. But the moment of immersion was naturally not suited to allow the persons immersed to utter a verbal confession of sins. If, therefore, the persons baptized were (ἐξομολογούμενοι) confessing at this moment, they were so in the act. But this confession of sins was, as we have seen, according to its nature a social and solidaric (solidarisches) act by which the measure of the guilt or innocence of individuals was not determined. In the infinite reciprocal action of social defilement in which individuals in Israel stood before the law, a separation of the individual from the whole body was impracticable. So, then, every one confessed in his own manner, individualizing and modifying his confession more or less-the collective guilt of Israel. Hardly would so many Pharisees have consented to an individual confession before John. But Christ’s confession was this: ‘So it becomes us to fulfil all righteousness.’ Social righteousness drew Him down into the stream. 2. The ideas μετανοία (repentance), ἄφεσις ἁμαρτιῶν (remission of sins), and ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν (the kingdom of heaven), stand in reciprocal action to one another. The one is as deep as the other, and each has always a significance differently determined on the legal, the pharisaical, the prophetic, and the Christian stand-point. The purely legal stand-point is that of the typical rendering of satisfaction and of social atonement, in connection with an unlimited apprehension of the relations of Being corresponding to this symbolism. The pharisaic stand-point accomplishes the social satisfaction and atonement with a more decided dependence on outward works, without the perception of a higher righteousness. The prophetic stand-point deduces from the social satisfaction and atonement the full feeling of the defect of realizing this symbolism in spirit, and of hope in the Messiah. John pronounces the whole Old Testament righteousness to be water-baptism. The Christian stand-point exhibits, in all the points indicated, the fulfilling of the symbol in full spiritual reality. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 74: 02.065. SECTION IV ======================================================================== Section IV the manifestation of the messiah to the people of israel (Matthew 4:1-25; Mark 1:1-45; Luke 3:1-38; John 1:1-51) Jesus complied with the call of the law when He repaired to the Jordan to be baptized by John.1 But in the consciousness of His own purity and divine dignity, He must have deeply felt that on this occasion He only bore the burden of His people. An appointment of righteousness like this, which made Him the associate of the self-accusers and penitents who presented themselves before the Baptist, must have appeared to Him very ominous of the grave character of His future career. But His heart was already accustomed to sympathize with the sufferings of humanity. Even at an earlier period the fact must have become clear to Him, that all the burden of earth fell precisely on His heart, since His heart exhibited the centre and the depths of humanity. But He also had already learnt to know the exaltation which always follows the sufferings inflicted on a child of God. Hence He must have come to His baptism with great expectations, with the hope of a wonderful declaration by His Father, while He clearly perceived what was humiliating in His baptism, the suffering for His people which it implied. As at a later period He met death with the confident expectation of His resurrection and exaltation to glory with the Father, so also He came to His baptism, which was a prefigurement of His death, with the certain expectation that the Father would testify to His honour in the hour of His ignominy. That Jesus was certain of the divine mission of John, is shown by the decisiveness with which He offered Himself for baptism at his hands. Lately some have wished to make out that He was a disciple of John.1 So He was, for a single moment, when He allowed John to immerse Him in the stream, and thus recognized John’s theocratic commission. But John did not at once fully apprehend the significance of Christ’s person. This is easily explained. He had to testify of one greater than himself with prophetic certainty. Such a task is in itself infinitely difficult, and indeed, without the guidance of God’s Spirit, impossible. That John and Jesus were acquainted in their youth, may be inferred with great probability from the relation in which their families stood to each other. How many times they might see one another at the feasts in Jerusalem, perhaps look on one another with thoughtful interest! On those occasions John might be much assisted by the utterances of Jesus in understanding the nature of the Theocracy, and in estimating the spirit of the existing hierarchy and their method of guiding the religion of the people. But by such intercourse the consciousness must early have been unfolded in both, that though their lives and spheres of action were to be closely linked, yet they were not destined to coincide. Every superior individuality has a strong feeling of an especial sphere of life, by which its outward relation and conduct towards other individuals is determined; and the purer it is, so much the more decidedly does it follow this consciousness in reference to the historic boundaries and position of its life. There is also in the spiritual world a repulsive force as unerring, and even more so than the centrifugal force of the heavenly bodies, which, in connection with the force of attraction, establishes the organism of the universe. It is too agreeable a view, taken from an inferior sphere of life, to imagine that the great champions of God, John and Jesus, had their paths in life ordained by God to be contiguous, and that these, as their strong natures unfolded, so coincided, that they maintained a close private intercourse, or were associated in outward co-operation. Inward fellowship in the kingdom of God does not as a matter of course lead to an outward companionship. Of John we are informed that he was ‘in the wilderness’ (Luke 3:2). He was of a profoundly earnest, hermit-like, pensively pious character, the last and worthy representative of the Old Testament. The whole bent of his mind attracted him into the wilderness. The Old Testament economy had its birth-place in the wilderness, and thither with John it returned to die. Probably a modest reverence, as a rule, kept him at a distance from Jesus; and among other things, he might feel a sad and sombre estrangement from the cheerful gracefulness with which Jesus entered on His great conflict with the world-an inability to value at once the power of His refined agency, and fully to enter into His New Testament spirit. But the reverence he felt for Jesus, the youthful anticipation that in Him bloomed the hope of Israel, and even the blissful presentiment that Jesus was the Messiah, could not, after all, qualify him to be a public witness for Him. As the prophet of the Messiah he knew nothing officially of Jesus; he knew Him not, so long as he was not assured by God. No female influence could ever induce him to be precipitate in this matter, and do violence to his calling; not even the judgment of those eminent women, Elisabeth and Mary. Whoever comprehends the significance of a prophetic, divine certainty, would not desire that John should deliver the reminiscences of his youth to the people in the name of Jehovah, and hastily alarm the land and the people with monstrous hypotheses. When Jesus came to him, he might indicate to Him at once his own expectations. The impression which this exalted friend made upon him had perhaps often overpowered him; at all events, it did so now. His own official dignity fell from him at the feet of Jesus; he started difficulties as to baptizing Him. Still he had not yet that final, objective divine certainty respecting the Messianic dignity of Jesus which he required, in order to bear open testimony to Him; and for this reason, because he had received the assurance that God would accredit the Messiah to him by an infallible sign. This sign was granted him when Jesus came up from His baptism.1 It must here particularly be borne in mind, that the reporter respecting this wonderful transaction, namely, John, did not stand on the height of a decidedly New Testament view. The miracle must have assumed for him an appearance which was conformable to his power of contemplation. Therefore the miracle at the baptism of Jesus is narrated according to John’s phenomenology, and not according to the christological phenomenology. And owing to this, it has been possible for the ancient and modern Ebionites, Socinians, and other advocates of a mutilated Christology, to support their views by the letter of this narrative, and to regard the anointing of Christ with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven as contradictory to the doctrine of the eternal divinity of Christ, and of His miraculous conception by the Holy Spirit.1 As Christologists, we must assert the fundamental position, that there can be no holier place in the universe than the heart of Jesus. For when in our inner contemplation we contrast the Father with the Son, the Father is without time and place, comprehending and filling all things. Hence it belongs to the phenomenology of the Baptist when the representation presupposes a place in heaven over the heart of Christ, whence the Holy Spirit descends upon Him. Jesus had immersed Himself by the prayer of the heart in the abyss of Deity, even while He was being immersed in the stream. Baptism was His solemn consecration to God and to death. By this great public surrender to the Father, His consciousness as the Messiah was completed, His calling decided. He was infinitely moved by the fulness of the divine Spirit, and in the illumination of this Spirit the certainty of His eternal unity in God, His Sonship, and the evidence of His calling and course of life, were completely disclosed to Him. The rose at last requires only a single sunbeam to complete its unfolding. The unfolding of the Messianic consciousness of Jesus was completed at His baptism; but equally so the public certainty of His Messiahship; for this the Baptist had to advocate before all the people. As Jesus rose out of the water praying, the divine greeting from the Father, ‘Thou art My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,’ went through His soul with infinite power, fervency, and splendour. This inner voice was the central point of the miracle. But it penetrated the Lord not merely in a spiritual manner, but resounded audibly through His frame: it so filled Him that all the chords of His life, even those of hearing, sounded simultaneously. According to the law of sympathy, this voice must have echoed in the related but weaker person of John with thrilling power, ‘This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ He also heard the call, because the voice of God caused his whole life to vibrate. Suddenly he beheld a visible sign. He saw the heavens open, and the Spirit descending in an outward visible form (σωματικῷ εἴδει), like a dove, upon Jesus, and abiding upon Him. But we must distinguish, as we have already intimated, the essential component parts of this phenomenon from the form which it obtained in John’s contemplation of it. Three particular signs compose the one great sign whereby Jesus was pointed out to him by God as the Messiah. The first is the open heaven; the second, the visible appearance over the head of Jesus; the third is the voice. We believe that from the christological stand-point the order must be reversed. The voice was the greeting, and responsive greeting of eternal love in the heart of Christ resounding in the spirit-world,-the celebration of the perfected revelation of the Father in the Son, of the divine feeling of Christ in His unity with the Father. Now did He begin as a living fountain of the Spirit of God to spread abroad the breath and life of this Spirit; the Spirit emanated from Him as the scent is shed forth from the full-blown rose. But this first great life-stream of the Spirit in Him began in a solemn inspiration which flashed and lightened through His whole frame. At this moment the first rays of Christ’s glorification broke forth. A mysterious splendour, probably a white mild lustre like the flutter of a white dove on the wing in the sunbeams, hovered above His head. John on his stand-point beheld it gliding downwards. But probably an upward and downward movement of this mild lustre took place; namely, a balancing or adjustment of the life of Christ entering into the phenomenon, with that world of light which lies at the basis of the whole phenomenal world, and as a locality forms the first inheritance of His glory. We understand this balancing or adjustment thus-Christ is the spiritual life-principle of the world, and therefore specially the principle of the renovation of the world of men, and of their sphere the habitable globe. At this moment His human consciousness of God was completed. His inner light-nature broke forth in the feeling of triumph which pervaded Him at this instant. It was the foretokening of His transfiguration on the Mount and at the Ascension, and consequently of the transfiguration of humanity in the new world by His glorification, as well as the transfiguration of the earthly sphere, as that must supervene with the glory of Christian humanity. But when this ray of the world’s transfiguration breaks forth from the life of Christ, the discord ceases which existed between this earthly sphere and the heavenly light-sphere, which as an ideal region forms its opposite in the universe, making up its life. Christ Himself in His corporeal nature had a share in this discord, since this nature, although pure and complete as an organ and image of the divine Spirit, yet was incorporated with actual humanity, and by His whole life-communion with it shared in the darkness and heaviness of its corporeity. As therefore the life-fulness of the Spirit streamed forth from the consciousness of Christ, the transforming power of this life broke through the earthly obscuration of His organism, and by this sacred emanation of His ethereal life-power, the relation to that region of light was called forth. A downward streaming of its light met the upward shining of the light-life of Christ. But after the first festive meeting of these lights, the relation was continued in a more quiet form. The assimilation effected, of the nature of Christ with the region of His glory, allowed the reciprocal acting to retire again into the invisible, till a new enhancement of the same relation caused it to come forth at a later period still more powerfully. This adjustment between heaven and Christ may also be simply regarded as an adjustment between heaven and earth, since Christ is the principle of the earth’s glorification. And whoever is inclined to the Christian expectation, that the earth must one day be changed into a heavenly world of light by the energy of Christ, that a transformation of it into the imperishable is approaching through the palingenesia which the Spirit of Christ effects-let him so conceive it, that in that moment in which the heart of Christ enjoyed the full unfolding of His heavenly consciousness in conformity to the intimate connection of the spiritual and corporeal, the bloom of this world’s glorification glistened on His head. But in the glorification of the world the alternation of day and night will hereafter vanish; the earth will be seen as a star encircled by the great family of stars. In their new light-life the sun will no more quench the radiance of the surrounding stars, while the earth will be free, as a co-enlightening star, from the sun’s overpowering light.1 And therein will also one day appear the signs of the Son of man in heaven (Matthew 24:30); so that, by means of the great transformation of the earth, the stars will begin to be constantly visible to the earth as clearly as sometimes on the high mountain tops the stars blaze like torches on the dark blue expanse of heaven. But it is well known that even now there are moments in the day-time when single stars are visible. Such a moment probably was that, when Jesus and John from their stand-point beheld the great adjustment between heaven and earth. In the undulation of the light-world between the head of Christ and heaven, the depth of heaven was opened. They probably, therefore, saw the stars come forth in the dark blue, and as it were joyously enwreathe the earth, which now, as thus encircled, seemed the holiest spot in the universe. So in this world-historical single moment, that transformation of the world which it establishes and brings about as a principle, was exhibited in a passing but grand foretokening to the actor and the witness of the moment. We have already noticed on what account John necessarily saw this transaction through an Old Testament medium. But it attests the vivid anticipation of the New Testament life in the soul of this great man, that he compared the Holy Spirit to the image of a gentle dove2 gliding down from heaven, as he designated the Son of God by the title of the Lamb. This heavenly power of Christ’s infinitely gentle Spirit-life, which John most wanted in his own life, so full of passionate zeal, but yet in the spirit of humility knew how to value in another. It was exactly those features of Christ’s life in which he was most decidedly surpassed that filled his soul with the profoundest reverence; he therefore designated Christ ‘the Lamb,’1 and the spirit of His life a ‘dove.’ John was now most certainly convinced of the Messiahship of Christ by the testimony of God, and in the blessedness of this new great certainty he could deliberately say, in reference to his former way and manner of contemplating Him, ‘I knew Him not.’ It was now that he first knew Him as a prophet, so that he could with confidence testify of Him in Israel. But this was decisive in a man whose private life was so perfectly identified with his public calling, and who wished to be only ‘a voice’ to proclaim the coming Messiah. Filled with astonishment at the glory of this revelation which had been imparted to him, and at the glory of the personage in whom he now realized the hope of his life, he could say with the deepest emphasis, ‘I knew Him not.’ The conscientiousness and critical judgment of the man were great, like himself,-the last of the old prophets, who spoke not of their own will or opinion, but as they were moved and actuated by the Holy Ghost. Thus was Jesus now made manifest to the people of Israel as the Son of God and the Messiah. For John represented the theocratic majesty of Israel, the true host of the people. But whether on this occasion the two men of God were surrounded by many witnesses or few, was in this case of no special importance. At all events, the bystanders could only share in their experience in proportion as they were qualified by the sympathy of a life and disposition in harmony with John and Christ. notes 1. The objective truth of the testimony which the Baptist has left behind of the mysterious transaction at the baptism of Jesus, may be inferred from the Old Testament colouring which it must have gained in his contemplation of it, the effect of which has led into error minds that were deficient in New Testament depth or ripeness. 2. The effulgence (Verklärung) will come under consideration in the sequel. As to the adjustment (Ausgleichung) between the earthly nature of Christ and His light-world (Lichtwelt), the idea of such adjustment or equalization already exists in natural philosophy, though it is applied with uncertainty to the mysterious phenomena of nature-life. Thus, for instance, Faraday conjectures that the electrical equilibrium of the earth is restored by the aurora borealis, by its carrying the electricity from the poles to the equator. According to others, the aurora borealis is a streaming of light from the earth to the sun, while the zodiacal light is an opposite current which connects the sun with the earth. 3. On the significance of the dove in the Hebrew symbolic, see Strauss, Leben Jesu, i. 416. Von Ammon, i. 276: ‘The dove was universally considered by Jews and heathens to be an emblem of purity and chastity.’ Yet John needed not to take the symbol from tradition; he was great enough to form on his own authority a symbol of this kind, especially in allusion to Solomon’s Song of Solomon 2:14. 4. The voice of God cannot proceed from any particular place, since God is omnipresent. It is a living and definite expression of God; a special word of God, which creates its own voice in the sphere wherein it sounds, as the general word of God has created its sound and echo in the universe. But this voice has a full reality, since it is an expression and operation of God. It is consistent with this immediateness of the divine voice, that God speaks in the language of the persons to whom His word is addressed. Every one who can conceive the difference between Judaism and Heathenism ought to know that the Hebrews never imagined the divine essence to be confined in a dwelling-place above the firm vault of heaven. So also the way and manner in which the speech of God is articulated, and becomes the language of a particular country, must be plain to every one who is not disposed to regard the manifestation of God in the flesh as ‘monstrous.’ 5. The question, whether the manifestation was designed for Jesus, or only for John (see Neander, Life of Jesus Christ, p. 70 [Bohn]), loses sight too much of the peculiar life of this singular moment, in which one of the two prophets could receive no revelation without its also being imparted to the other. Jesus was the centre of the miraculous transaction; but John stood most of all in need of this manifestation in order to fulfil his calling. 6. The message which the Baptist sent from his prison to Jesus must, according to Strauss, imply a contradiction to the confidence of the Baptist, as here described in reference to the person of Jesus. In the sequel we shall consider the question, whether the human weakness in the life of the prophet can be taken as evidence against his utterance in the elevated hours of his divine assurance. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 75: 02.066. SECTION V ======================================================================== Section V the god-Man Christ, from the beginning of His life in His human nature, was one with God, and indeed in the oneness [Einzigkeit] of the Son. His oneness in God consisted in this-that His life formed the pure realized centre of all God’s counsels, the innermost secret of all His thoughts and ways in the world’s history, and that it possessed the infinitely pure and rich nobleness which naturally belonged to the heart of the world. The holy child was the bud in which the world was to open into a divine flower-into a heaven of pure ideal relations which embraced the infinite contents of life in the oneness of an absolutely new form, in the delicacy of a perfected harmony or bloom of all life. But the oneness of the Son of God was in Him the movement of an infinitely pure and delicate impulse of development, in which His nature from the first preserved its identity with the Spirit of God,-the perfect harmony in the reciprocal action between His corporeal and spiritual nature, and between His soul and the world. His life’s impulse was the impulse of eternal love breaking forth from its development. ‘God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself,’ 2 Corinthians 5:19. The eternal self-consciousness of God came forth in the development of the consciousness of Christ into the midst of the world, and in this manner became a manifestation of His being. This manifestation needed first of all to be completed in the human consciousness of Jesus; but its completion coincided with the complete development of His inner life. The starting-point of this unfolding was the refined living joy of a perfectly consecrated, well-organized nature, kept down by the adverse impression of a darkened, deeply disordered world of sinners, opposing the glory of such a life. Its progress from the indistinct feeling of pure life to the highest living certainty was a wonderful presage; it was the beautiful dawn of the new world, the life-poetry of an unfolding consciousness, which in its all-comprehensive, quiet life passed through all the sights and feelings of the longing, imaginative youth of the world. We have been made acquainted with one aspect of this beautiful dawn in the history of Jesus when twelve years old. Through this blessed longing the terrors of the kingdom of darkness must have been acting their part in strange nocturnal sights and shades of horror-such presentiments as Abraham, the father of the faithful, had in glancing at the future of his people and spiritual descendants (Genesis 15:12). But the objective world of God presented itself to this longing as a pure, divine administration, which increased in lustre from the darkest night (Aethernacht) to the clearest noon-day. As long as this richest individual development was burdened with any of the uncertainty which attaches to a period of growth, Christ could not come forth and manifest Himself to the people of Israel as the Messiah. Nor could this development be completed by one-sided human evidence, but only by a wonderful transaction in which the testimony of the Father in the voice which blessed Him coincided with the testimony of His inner life, and the testimony of the ancient Theocracy, which was represented by the Baptist, with the voice of His heart, and finally the testimony of heaven and earth with that of His previous history. This singular harmony of His religious, theocratic, and physical spheres with the expression of His inner life was the most special significance of the miracle at His baptism. He was now made manifest in the world as the God-man from whom it had to expect its salvation. His own word unveils to us the form of the inner life of Jesus. He walked in the presence of God, and bore within Himself the fulness of the Godhead. The pure reality of the world identified Him with the divine administration; He knew Himself to be surrounded, conditioned, penetrated, and determined by God’s Spirit. He was therefore in heaven (John 3:13), in the bosom of the Father (John 1:18), and simply conditioned by the will of the Father (John 5:30). In the looks with which the Father beheld Him-in the design with which He upheld Him-in the fatherly love which begat, saluted, and sent Him, He felt His own oneness, His eternity and divinity. In this consciousness He regarded His own life as a pure manifestation of the Father (John 14:9-10), as a glorification of His being (John 17:4). It was His life-conviction that the very Being of God was manifested through Him in the midst of the world. He thus expressed His divine consciousness-He came from the Father, and He went to the Father. His going to the Father was an eternal act of His consciousness. He was perfectly conscious of the infinitely delicate distinctness of His life, His unique individuality. He felt the singularity of His life which placed Him in the presence of God’s love, as the pure image of the Father. He exhibited the determination of God which lay in His divine consciousness, in perfect, free self-determination. His will might appear as distinct from the will of God, but only in order to be merged in it with freedom. In His feelings, He could feel Himself forsaken by God in His objective administration, but only in order to surrender and sacrifice Himself to Him. In His acting, He could feel Himself excited by the immeasurable activity of the Father throughout the universe to work Himself, but only to work the works of the Father in and with Him (John 5:17). It was therefore His human consciousness, that He was ever going again to the Father as the pure, perfected Man. In this relation the divine consciousness in Christ stands to His human consciousness. The two forms of this consciousness, therefore, in accordance with their nature, make up one living unity. Whoever has not found God, has not found Himself; and whoever has not come to Himself, has not come to God. God becomes one with man, and man with God, in the life of the Spirit. Where spirit appears, there freedom appears. Spiritual personality recognizes its destiny, which is from God, and determines itself in the most living free experience and firm hold of this destiny. Those who fancy that with the beginning of the spiritual life, God vanishes in the power of their self-consciousness, are ignorant of spirit, and not less so are those who wish to see their life vanish in God. The Spirit glorifies man in God, and God in man. But Christ had the Spirit in its infinite fulness; and for that reason God was the eternally glorious object of contemplation to His inner life, and he was conscious of the eternal peerlessness and singleness of His life in God. Thus His divine consciousness was one with His individual consciousness, and in this living unity the one is precisely distinguished from the other by the Spirit. He lived in an eternal, infinitely intimate, reciprocal action with the Father. This reciprocal action was a perfect, ever pure, and beautiful rhythm. In this rhythm of His life, as it is sustained by His unique nature and destiny, He appears as the God-man. The blessedness and power of this life never allowed the Lord to withdraw from the consciousness of eternity. Sin from the first must have been detestable as gloom to His brightness,-as nihility to His power of being,-as the dissonant and deformed to the harmony of His life,-as estrangement from God to His fulness of God. The God-man, according to the power of His freedom, could not consent to sin. And yet it lay in the nature of His being, that He must be more tempted by sin than any other man. Sin as sin was repelled by the divine power of His self-determination; while sin as the old human life continually troubled and agitated, yea, tortured to death, the human delicacy of His nature. Who could be so sensitive as He to the temptations which lay in the sympathy and antipathy of a whole disordered world, whose head and heart He was destined to be? Who could be more susceptible in his individual feelings than He to the attraction of the sympathy of the world, which, with an unceasing syren-song, wished to draw Him down into the depths of its old life? Who could experience as He did the repulsion of the world’s antipathy to the transition from the kingdom of the darkened life of nature to the blessed kingdom of the Spirit? In Him there was the most delicate sense of honour-the concentrated noble-mindedness of all humanity, infinitely sensitive, confronting all the shocks of worldly contumely-the most excitable and tender life-feeling confronting all the sharp pangs of death-the highest capability of suffering belonging to the strongest, and therefore most thoughtful love, confronting the thousandfold forms of human hatred. In one word, we may say that Christ alone could and must feel the entire temptation of the world; and He alone, who perfectly understood and experienced it in the full clearness of His pure feeling and spirit, could completely overcome it. Those that think man becomes acquainted with temptation only in proportion as he is defiled by it, lay down a canon by which man throughout eternity would have, like another Sisyphus, to roll the load of sinfulness in his vain struggles after righteousness. Their moral world is from the first only a modest hell for those who are silently condemned. But every victory of an honest conscience over temptation refutes their system. Christ has converted into historical truth the possibility of the sinless development of humanity, which in Adam, as ideal, formed the paradise of humanity, and thus has founded the new heavens of the world’s reconciliation. The power of Christ’s life to resist temptation lay in His ideal nature. But by His historical nature, by His connection with humanity, He was necessitated to encounter all the temptations of humanity; and His victory over temptation was effected by realizing His ideal life in His historical life. The victory lay simply in this realization. For when He, the Chief of Humanity, came armed on the field of conflict, in order to rescue it from the corruption into which it had fallen, then the whole depth of this corruption must unfold itself and confront Him. The demoniac background which supported this world of confusion was forced to disclose itself simultaneously when the heavenly basis of the ideal human world was laid in the incarnation of God. This was a consequence of the antagonistic historical reciprocal action between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness. In opposition to the God-man, when, as Redeemer of the world, He was manifested by His baptism in the Jordan, the Demon-enemy of man, the Tempter, now made his appearance. note The correct view of the relation between the divine and human natures of Christ is still obscured by various false assumptions. The first of these is the notion that the divine life was limited by the human, and in consequence could only partially (which as divine is in that case not at all) enter into human life. On the contrary, it has been pointed out in the first part of our work, that the essence of human individuality is to be looked for not in its finiteness, but in its definiteness. But this definiteness can be no hindrance to God in His manifestation, since it is a result of His determination. With this false assumption another is connected, that the incarnation of the Son of God is considered in itself a humiliation of His being, while His humiliation only appears in His entering into a life-communion with historical humanity. The μορφὴ Θεοῦ which is attributed to Christ in Php 2:6, is to be regarded probably as the definiteness of the divine nature, in which Christ has the eternal ideality of His being.1 To this essential ‘form of God’ attributed to Christ, the ‘being equal with God’ τὸ εἶíáé ἶóá ָוῷ, corresponds. We can take this plural ἶσα as altogether definite, and then it will mark the various forms through which the Logos passed before He became man; since first of all He was the principle of the creation of the world, then the principle of humanity, and next of the Theocracy, till last of all He became the life-principle of Jesus. The expression, ‘He thought it not robbery to be equal with God’ (οὐ ἁñðáãìὸí ἡãóáôï), does not mean He did not eagerly retain this equality with God, but divested Himself of it; rather, the ἶóá וἶναι ָוῷ remained His, even when He became man. But His divine consciousness was not the consciousness of a possession unlawfully gained by force; or, more exactly, it was no act of outrage, as when a robber or a warrior violently seizes his booty. The feeling of His divine dignity was no ecstasy. It was perfectly matured human life; and so also divine in tranquillity, love, and condescension. His divine life-feeling was the ripest, most tranquil enjoyment of His inner being, no spirit-robbery. So little was He disposed to attain His glory by robbery, that He rather robbed Himself when He assumed the form of a servant, and was made like the sinful race of men, even to the death of the cross. This self-robbery can only relate to the manifestation of life. He robbed Himself when He concealed the divine glory of His consciousness in the sinner’s garb of man, in the servant’s garb of the Jews, in the criminal’s garb of the crucified, and therefore with infinite humility in a threefold dress of the deepest humiliation.1 Another false assumption confounds the identity which is presented in the spirit-life with the monotony of a physical unity, and consequently allows man to vanish into God, or God into man. In both cases spirit is naturalized, that is, denied. As a third assumption, we may specify the hypothesis of the latest moral philosophy, which makes Evil a necessary point of transition in the moral development of the spirit. Perhaps this assumption is taken from the use of cow-pox, which is destined to put a stop to the ravages of small-pox, and has been transplanted into the doctrine of spiritual freedom. At all events, it is only at home in the physical department of life. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 76: 02.067. SECTION VI ======================================================================== Section VI the tempter No reciprocal action is more delicate, mysterious, and important than that of spiritual forces in the ethical department of life. As long as this reciprocal action is overlooked-as long, therefore, as the doctrine of sympathies and antipathies is not more developed than it has hitherto been, there can be no satisfactory development of the doctrine of good and evil in the world. Every spiritual individual must be regarded as a spiritual power, operating not only by speaking and acting, but by his very existence, presence, and disposition, and especially by his will, and thus influencing other individuals in the elements of social life. But the greater the power of the individual, so much more important will be his agency. In the human world these silent forces of individual power and disposition are at work incessantly in every direction. Powerful effects proceed from powerful characters, and form greater or smaller nets in which a multitude of weaker characters are caught. There are spirits that rule in the air (Ephesians 5:12). The history of battles will teach us the mighty power of sympathetic relations. The panic which causes the loss of a battle, is entirely a sympathetic fright. When a little group of gallant hearts, who form the flower of a regiment, flinch and give way, the whole regiment may be lost, and with that the whole army. And so, on the other hand, the heroic self-sacrifice of a single man may rally a whole wavering host, and even, flashing like lightning through centuries, may rekindle in a nation the flame of a holy enthusiasm. The pillars of fire of genuine human heroism are the noble lights of history, which make us feel at ease even while sojourning among spectres, and horrors, and graves. But antipathy is not less powerful than sympathy, and, taken together, they contribute one phenomenon, which may be designated psychical life-communion. Of this phenomenon, sympathy forms the positive and antipathy the negative pole; and the latter consequently is, in its kind, as powerful as the former. It is easier to sail against the wind than to withstand or break through strong antipathies. We call, and there is no echo. ‘My word,’ said the Saviour, ‘hath no place in you,’ John 8:37. We address ourselves to human hearts, and it is like running against heaps of stones. It is a hard matter to be cheerful, and keep up one’s spirits, when soul does not answer soul. Christ withstood the antipathy of the whole world. This conflict especially was His chief labour in Gethsemane and on Golgotha. He trod the wine-press alone. And since His victory, the preponderance of His strong heart goes in triumph through the world, and, amidst fearful reactions of the antipathy of the old world-nature, it causes, by the thunders and lightnings of sympathetic action, all things to bow which are in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth. It lies in the nature of this relation, that evil as well as good can enter into the moving power of sympathy, and as the checking power of an antipathy. Those who have been overcome by the power of evil, strengthen its operation by the attraction of sympathy; but it confronts the good as a magically obstructive and repressive antipathy. Who has not experienced the depressing influence of evil in its silent and most secret operations? In Göthe’s Faust, Margaret makes the discovery that she cannot pray in the presence of Mephistopheles. Every material spark, however small, has its effect: it glows, it gleams, it threatens to kindle a fire. But far more powerful is the operation of a spark of evil. Evil in the heart of our neighbour speaks to us through the mere power of its existence: if he does not express it in words, it is impressed upon us in some most occult way, and can make a language for itself, intelligible to our hearts and imaginations. But there are some minds so very obtuse, that they are not sensible of evil unless it comes before them palpably in words and deeds absolutely immoral. They know no alarm at the demon-like power of evil. Such persons are in truth very poor demonologists. Many others see the boundaries of evil where crime, and vice, or gross immorality cease in their immediate circle; but they have no feeling of the power of evil lying at a greater depth, working in concealment, or acting at a distance. These likewise are weak demonologists. But there are also other spirits, purer, deeper, and of greater moral sensibility,-souls liker Cassandra, who feel the action of the curse breaking forth in the misdeeds of domestic life; or like Thecla, who experience an internal horror when a dark spirit goes through their house. These souls are the true moral philosophers, while technical moral philosophy is sometimes in the hands of ethically callous spirits. Lastly, there are heroes of world-wide reputation with moral feelings of the highest order; souls that can perceive an ethical agency of prodigious power where an ordinary man would scarcely notice anything; souls that would see a conflagration where the latter would hardly detect the smell of fire. Such a distinguished example of moral perception Christ proved Himself to be, when Peter so urgently dissuaded Him from the dangerous journey to Jerusalem (Matthew 16:22). But these heroes, as prophets of the ethical depths of the world, have, with their feeling and penetration, discovered that moral corruption has penetrated through the blood and marrow of humanity from generation to generation. In this fearful discovery Moses and Sophocles meet one another. But a thousand little moralists smile over this theory of the curse, and find, forsooth, that such a doctrine is against morality, though founded on a thousand agonies and griefs of profound and faithful souls. But this pretended morality does not trouble the moral chiefs of the world. In the depths of their ethical life-spirit they listen to the slightest footsteps of seduction in the house of Adam, in humanity. They gauge the power of the ethical antipathies which counteract their prayers, and vows, and godly deeds. But in this survey they arrive at the disclosure of a vast relation, since the spirit of divine revelation co-operates with their own foreboding. They announce the fact, that evil in the human world has not merely sprung up in human hearts; there are other stranger, stronger agencies of evil in this region of the universe; there is a devil.1 The doctrine of the devil proceeds, therefore, from a prophetic and profound ethical knowledge of the world. It might be said that the doctrine of evil demons unfolds itself from the demoniacal depths of ethical foreboding. But it is unfolded with the development of the manifestation of ethical life in humanity; and those points which may be regarded as articulations in the development of this doctrine coincide with critical moments in the history of the human race. But those who look upon this doctrine as a representation derived from Parsism, and engrafted on the Hebrew faith, have not discerned the difference, wide asunder as the poles, between the idea of an evil God and of a fallen created spirit. The evil God is lord over the substance of half the world-indeed, the proper materiality of the whole world belongs to him, and the good God is scarcely able to overpower him. The fallen evil spirit, on the contrary, as he makes his appearance in the book of Job, is a poor Satan, who cannot call an atom of the material world his own; who everywhere can only do just so much as power is granted him for by God, whose supremacy controls him, and who turns all his projects to everlasting confusion. How can any one confound the idea of Ahriman with that of Satan-the idea of the wicked one, in whom evil is one with sin-with that idea in which evil is the punishment of sin, its annihilation through substantial life? Attempts, indeed, have been made to prove that the idea of Satan involves contradictions; but the observations in support of this view have been very wide of the mark-they apply to the conception of Ahriman, not to that of Satan. It is certainly inadmissible that evil can be absolutely identical with a substantial Being, that such an one can become Evil personified, or that ‘persevering wickedness should be able to exist with the most distinguished insight.’ But whence has the theologian learnt that ‘the most distinguished insight’ is attributed to the devil in the Bible? Does not true insight presuppose a harmony with the moral order of the world? Thus insight makes its appearance in the Bible. The theologian is unfortunate in his appeal to it; for all insight is denied to the devil by the Bible. He comes forward, indeed, as a great genius, equipped with a power of understanding refined to superlative craftiness; but his demoniacal cunning appears as moral stupidity, and on all points in which he manœuvred against humanity he is decidedly foiled by the action of the divine insight, especially in the history of the fall, in the trial of Job, and in the history of Jesus. As soon as the theologian has freed himself from confounding Parsism with the pure biblical theology, he will find that no conception is more firmly established than that of the devil. We proceed from this point, that, even before the fall of man, a fall had taken place in a spiritual sphere of the world. A host of spirits, belonging to the train and retinue of a powerful spirit of their own kind, fell with him into sin, and apostatized from God. There is nothing contradictory in this fact. The fall of men proves the possibility of the fall of other spirits. But the manner in which great and highly gifted men have fallen most deeply, and even within the life of humanity have been able to exhibit the demoniacal in evil, throws light on the supposition, that in that pre-human disorder in the spirit-world the greatness in the fall of their chief bore some proportion to the original greatness of his nature. But though the notion of such a region of pre-human fallen spirits cannot be impugned, yet it may seem difficult, not to say monstrous, to admit an agency of these spirits on the human world. The representation, that in ancient times a familiar colloquial intercourse existed between men and devils, has always given offence. How should Satan as such be able to come near men? Here is the proper place for pointing out the significance of the doctrine of the great life-operations in the world, which appear in the antagonism of sympathies and antipathies. Just as the cosmical lights from star to star operate through the wide creation, so, but to a greater degree, do the psychical moods of spirits both good and bad. Thus humanity in its primal innocence had to encounter the action of a fallen spirit-sphere, which depressed the inspiration of its undeveloped ethical life-feeling. The moment of its first trial happened at the moment of such a psychical depressing influence of Satan. Thus the trial became a temptation; and in the elements of this temptation the natural allurements which in every trial operated on man, became a colloquial address of the spirit of temptation. We saw above how the influences of pure spirits can become plastic in the human soul-how they create in its inward tuition an appearance, a language, a conversation. The same holds good of the powerful operations of Satan. The more sensitive, tender, and vigorous a man feels, so much the more every evil influence gains over him, as soon as he wavers in his moral standing, a plastic distinctness which it had from the first in its inner nature, and becomes an appearance, or a discourse, or, in fact, a speaking appearance. The action of the fallen spirit-world on the first human world may be easily explained, even though it be considered as the action of an extra-mundane sphere. But if it be supposed that in Satan’s kingdom spiritual traces appear of a shattered earthly spirit-kingdom anterior to man, this hypothesis gains important confirmation from analogous traditions of a physical kind, which send us back to such a shattered pre-human primitive world. We are led by these ruins, in their relation to the doctrine of Satan, to the supposition that that sphere of colossal serpents, lizards, and other monstrous amphibia had been formed round the centre of an ethically free giant-spirit and his associates, and that this spirit constituted the spiritually conscious centre of his insular world, in the same sense as man, in the present organic form of the earth, exists as the life-principle comprehending and glorifying all organisms in conscious spirit-life. According to this construction of that giant-world in which the amphibious type predominated, we understand why the spiritual chief of that sphere after his fall is designated as the Dragon. According to this, in demonology the complement of the physical ruins would appear, quite naturally, in a parallel of ethical ruins. In this connection Satan may be contemplated as the ethical giant-fossil from the age of the pre-human earth-formation. The creation of the human earth unfolded itself out of the judgment that preceded on the demon-earth. But though that demon-earth has been judged and set aside by the formation of the human earth, yet as smothered Chaos it has in various ways an influence on the tone of the present world’s history. From time to time the tones of that insular antiquity break forth. The billows again roar, and mingle sea and land, and miasmata are exhaled from the swamps. In particular juices of nature the traces appear of the potencies of that far-gone age-poisons, which are, so to speak, the spirit-sounds of that buried nature, which reverberate in the present.1 The amphibia exhibit the animal type which was predominant in the kingdom of that fallen spirit-chief; and the serpent, in the forms under which it has come forth in the new earth-sphere, has become the symbol of his nature and agency. It could formerly pass through the air in various shapes, winged as a dragon; but under the present economy it is sentenced to crawl on its belly, and to eat the dust. Its existence, which was prominent in the former economy, and stood near the demon-chief of the globe, is now degraded to the lowest dust compared with that of the higher animals; and the regions in which the spirits of that condemned original population of the earth have taken their residence, are the wastes, the deserts, and stormy winds, by which the effects of their former power are symbolized. But these fallen spirits themselves have, by their sympathetic influence on young humanity, converted the trial which it had to stand, into a dangerous temptation which it has not withstood. Since that time, the continued action and movement of their tones in the earthly world form the special centre of gravity and demoniacal depth of all evil on the earth. On this account, according to the view of all God’s moral heroes in holy writ, the whole kingdom of sin appears as a kingdom of Satan. We must not overlook the fact, that the actual effects which proceed from the region of these demons are symbolically conceived and represented in a twofold way. First of all, they are made use of with poetic liveliness to describe all evil. On the one hand, evil is called simply devilish, because human evil has been called forth by devilish evil, though evil is as human as it is devilish, and throughout creaturely, in the definite mood of a fallen creature, or rather the positively worthless and pernicious which makes man a sinner, and the demon a devil. It is also called ‘devilish,’ as being the most concrete and powerful expression to designate evil. On the other hand, the devilish is called evil, as if Satan were the ideal chief of evil, identical with evil, although he is only in a historical sense the first, most powerful chief of evil. But Satan is designated simply as the evil one, because the religious feeling takes cognizance only of the destructive ethical side of his life, and stands in no immediate relation to his nature-side. This symbolic in its application to the doctrine of Satan should be thoroughly understood, lest, without intending it, we should make an Ahriman of Satan. The kingdom of Satan naturally stands in constant antagonism to the kingdom of God. It is developed till the completion of its judgment, confronting the kingdom of light. The manifestations of salvation and of the divine life on earth are encountered by the outbreaks and disclosures of the powers of darkness. They come forward in manifold masks, adapted to the circumstances of the times. But the ethical spirit of humanity ever casts a penetrating glance through all disguises, and detects and rejects the old enemy who is a murderer from the beginning. The first man learnt, not in his sin, but in his repentance, that a crafty demoniacal power had ruined him by its temptation. In the last times of the present course of the world, the true Church, in conflict with ‘the beast out of the sea,’ and with ‘the beast out of the earth’ which ‘had two horns like a lamb,’ will discern that it is the dragon who speaks through all the beasts (Revelation 13:1-18) Christ in the wilderness, after His baptism, had to encounter a great critical temptation; He discerned the tempter behind the temptation. note It must here be stated in most explicit terms, that we carefully distinguish between the doctrine of the devil in itself and the view just given, according to which the fall of the devil is regarded as the fall of the moral central being of the pre-Adamite earth. We are desirous not to make this doctrine dependent, in its general form, in the slightest degree on our hypothesis. But it will not escape the unprejudiced reader how very much this hypothesis is fitted to bring about a harmonious religious view of earthly-cosmical relations. Jacob Böhm, in his visionary speculation, seems to have gained an image of this view, but his image was necessarily obscured and distorted by the influence of his gnostic principles. Thus much he saw, that in the present form of the world, a conflict of two forms of the world appeared, and that particularly ‘Man is and signifies that other host which God created instead of Lucifer’s host expelled from Lucifer’s place.’1 But in this Adam three principles were from the first active-‘the kingdom of hell, the kingdom of this world, and the kingdom of paradise,’ although originally his life commenced in the paradisaical principle. The passage, Genesis 1:2, is explained by the adherents of Böhm’s system in the same way, since it is regarded as a description of the ruined world of Lucifer. But that desolation and void may be regarded as the consecrated fermentation of the world in process of formation, over the dark depths of which the Spirit of God moved with creative energy. If we wished to find the contrast between the purely demoniacal and the Adamic earth in the contrast of the insular and continental type, that pre-Adamite world-history, with its fall of the spirits, would come in between the second and third day’s work of creation, Genesis 1:8-9. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 77: 02.068. SECTION VII ======================================================================== SECTION VII the spiritual rest and spiritual labour of christ in the wilderness-the temptation (Matthew 4:1-25; Mark 1:45; Luke 4:1-44) The words of the Evangelist (Matthew 4:1), ‘Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted of the devil,’ have been looked upon by modern criticism as a dark hieroglyphic. But they are explained by the simple law, that every ethical nature, according to the measure of its power and the destiny operating in this power, must maintain on earth the conflict with the powers of darkness, in order to gain influence for humanity, and to become a decided reality. The facts of experience correspond to this law, that to every first inspiration of such a power the tempter unawares stands opposite, as if one power had called forth the other from the darkness of the world to the battle-field. In this manner the divine government of the world fulfils its work. By the uncovering of evil in the course of events, over against the manifestations of good, judgment is executed on the absolute nothingness and baseness of evil. Thus there was a world-historical, and indeed a divine reason, why Christ should be led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. His spiritual rest was exchanged for a great and severe spiritual task in the wilderness: it had for its sequel a temptation which was consummated in a mysterious historical act. But after the victory over the temptation, the spiritual festivity reappeared with fresh and steady splendour. In the Jordan the bright side of sinful humanity had blessed the Lord; in the wilderness He was obliged to endure the action of its dark side,-the tempting operation of its curse. If we are informed that the Spirit led the Lord into the wilderness after His God-man consciousness had been festively filled with that divine joy of His inner life, yet we at the same time receive the intimation that the Lord could not immediately enter with these riches of His heart into the congregation of His people, who formed the contrast to the wilderness. We might indeed look on the forty days which Jesus spent in the wilderness, first of all, as the celebration of the disclosed fulness of His inner glory. He needed to be a long time alone with God, in order to spread before Him the great revelation which had now been completed, to meditate upon it with Him, and to seal it in the quiet consecration of His life. This celebration was at all events the beginning, the key-note, and aim of His sojourn in solitude. It was the holy mysterious poetry of the completed unfolding of all Heaven’s fulness in the heart of humanity, the beautiful blooming time of roses in the soul of the God-man, the still hour of the holy spring night of the New Covenant on which the nightingale of the world sang its first song to its God. But why call this glorious celebration in solitude, so significantly, the temptation in the wilderness? Christ, in the celebration of his Spirit-life, could not turn away from humanity. He could not retain this fulness of life as booty for Himself. It belonged to the nature of this inner glory that He regarded it as God’s mission to the world-as Heaven’s great benediction-as the salvation of the world. The infinite divine joy with which His heart now throbbed, was at the same time unbounded love of man; and thus it became an indescribably strong impulse to communicate Himself to the world, and especially to the people of Israel. The impulse of His life was to enter without delay into the midst of the congregation of Israel. And the people called Him. They called Him by all the yearnings of their expectations, by all the thoughts and images of their ideal of the Messiah. The world with all its ideals called Him. But the ideals that called Him were poisoned by the revelry and intoxication of humanity. The Messianic image of a sinful world-a clever, but in all points distorted caricature-as the confused, dim, mocking image of a chaotically agitated and serpent-like wily prince of this world-contradicted the pure image of God in the Messianic consciousness of Christ. Therefore, no sooner had He after His baptism turned Himself in Spirit to the world, with the greeting of His love, than He received a counter-greeting in a loud siren-song of all the distorted intoxicated world-ideals. He could not advance a step among His people without meeting the caricatured image of the chief of men; without coming upon false assumptions, false words, interpretations and fictions of a false chiliasm perverting the history of the world in a thousand forms, and of a fanatical and carnal idealistic world-vertigo. The contrariety of Christ’s Messianic kingdom to the Messianic ideal of the Jews has often been so explained as if Christ wished to establish a merely spiritual kingdom of heaven-as if He had not inserted in His work the tendency to plant the ideal life, and to advance it to its completion in the actual appearance, and by His redemption really to transform the world. But this ‘anti-judaical’ spiritualism falls itself into the most palpable error, even while intending to correct the error of the Jews. It contradicts the Messianic image of the prophets, who, agreeably to the nature of the case, combine in one view the inner and outer kingdom of heaven; it equally contradicts the Christian doctrine of that transformation of the world which is to be completed at the resurrection; and lastly, it contradicts the most explicit declarations and promises of Christ Himself, who points to His second advent as the transformation of the world. This view also contradicts every well-grounded theory of the world. It belongs to the dualism which splits the world into two halves-so that ideas must form spectres without corporeity, and matters of fact mere animal phenomena without spiritual life. In truth, this spiritualism generally falls back into that chiliasm which it professes to shun. For it must always grant or desire some kind of transformation of the world, and for that purpose it requires both principles and organs. But as it has rejected that transformation by the Spirit and life of Christ, it forms for itself other principles unchristian and antichristian, which are to make up for or to supplement Christian ones, and must seek in false messiahs for the organs of the world’s transformation. But for this dualism Christ has given no warrant whatever by His declaration, ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ These words rather express the fact, that with the appearance of His kingdom, this world vanishes, and the future becomes manifest. The very fact that He speaks of His kingdom shows that He has founded not merely a school, or a congregation, or a church, but a morally organized community, completing itself in ideal universality. The kingdom is His kingdom. But He will surrender it into the hands of the Father; therefore Christ has never given up the expectation that His Messianic kingdom will be a kingdom of outward visibility. As the festival of Easter arises out of Good Friday, so His new world arises from the depths of world-renunciation-His kingdom of glory from His kingdom of the cross. But the expectation that it must begin as an outward kingdom, and therefore outward in its constitution, without being founded in God and in the life of the Spirit,-as a secular kingdom brought into existence by means of craft and force, and so an anticipatory counterfeit of the true kingdom, in which every appearance must proceed from the fulness of the Spirit,-this expectation Christ could never have cherished; for it was the very temptation He combated in the wilderness, and truly a temptation of Satan. The kingdom of darkness can never realize on earth its chaotic tendencies in their naked, wild form. The destruction of human life, to a large world-historical extent, can be effected only when the spirit of the ethical chaos succeeds in wearing the mask of a transformed cosmos. Only in delusive social forms, political and hierarchical, but especially Messianic and chiliastic, can the ‘nameless beast’ win for itself, and maintain for a while, a great appearance. The history of evil on the earth proves this. It often appears in chiliastic, often in hierarchical forms; but in the one case the chiliasm is headed by a hierarchical power, in the other case the hierarchy is animated by the intoxication of chiliasm. The hierarchy that crucified Christ was in reality Jewish chiliasm throughout. In His time it was concentrated in the falsified ideal of the Messiah. Its special sympathetic power was its connection with all carnal, extravagant idealizing (Idealisterei)-with all the fantastic, wild fanaticisms in the world. But its deepest principle was the chief of the demoniacal chaos, who readily disguised himself as an angel of light. When the spirit of a people is hostilely excited in an antichristian tendency against the spirit of Christ and the spirit of the true transformation of the world, in this excitement it necessarily forms a sympathetic union with the spirit of the world in its ungodly tendency. In this sympathy its own tendency coincides with all the tendencies of satanic power; and as this is the mightiest power of the whole community, so it becomes its animating principle. In truth, demoniacal evil can realize its ideal only in forms of light which allow the inward mockery to be seen through them;-only in forms of the Holy through which may be seen the sneer of the internal contradiction;-only in a false scenery of the transformed world, through which the lightnings of the ancient chaos flash in all directions. The Jewish expectation of the Messiah had its ideal realized in the horrible scenes of the Jewish war. This expectation met the Lord in His way, as soon as he wished to turn to the people. It was the assumption that He must found His kingdom on an ungodly carnal mind, on unspirituality and internal corruption, on craft and force, which always accompany fanatical idealism among mankind. In His pure sympathy for humanity, He felt the drawing of this intense perverted longing in the world. But no sooner did He feel this influence than it excited a powerful repulsion in the Holy Spirit with which He was filled. This repulsion drove Him into the wilderness. That sympathetic influence opposed Him like a wall. The spirit of temptation encountered Him all the way between Jordan and Jerusalem. Christ, with His Messianic consciousness, sought a sure entrance among His people, and seemed to find none. How could He escape being grievously misunderstood by the world, when He appeared in it as the Messiah, the Son of God? The more He was impelled by the love of mankind to hold intercourse with His people, so much the more a holy shyness towards men drove Him into the wilderness. He could not directly manifest to men the Sun of God’s fulness which glowed in His heart, without dazzling their weak eyes. An immediate animated disclosure of His inmost soul would have been for them the final judgment. And how could He expose the glorious mystery of His soul to the unutterable profanation which must ensue, if He was willing to disclose His consciousness directly to the people and trust Himself to the world? It was the curse of the world, that the splendour of His inmost soul, unless it were veiled, must destroy the world. He was obliged to secure His sanctuary in the wilderness from the profanation of the temple-goers, His kingly dignity from the insults of the rulers, His Messiahship from the prevalent Messianic delusions, and His love of men from men. Amidst these embarrassments, He concealed Himself in the depths of the desert. He lived among the wild beasts. They alarmed not the Prince of men, and were less dangerous to Him than men. He wandered about, and could not leave the wilderness, because the Spirit always drove Him back into solitude as often as His heart turned towards men; and then temptation again assailed Him with the alluring sympathy of the world. Thus He was withdrawn from the world for forty days. He had taken refuge in concealment, as if in death, from the siren’s song of the world’s ideal. He tasted no food during this period of intense mental conflict. His sojourn in the wilderness forms an appalling spectacle,-the spectacle of a man prostrated in the deepest sorrow, and harassed with the severest conflict. And yet, as we have already intimated, it was not exclusively this mental conflict, involving the interests of humanity, which detained Him in the wilderness. Strongly as the love of man, on the one hand, attracted Him, not less strongly, on the other hand, was He attracted by the love of God. The attraction of the one prepared for Him unspeakable sorrow, that of the latter inexpressible joy. There is a blessedness which is plunged in sadness-a delicate, trembling joy, a solemn festival of the soul in which all the joys of heaven meet and salute all the sufferings of humanity. In this state of feeling we find our Lord. He turned Himself to the Father. In the Father’s bosom He concealed His kingly sense of God-His holy horror at the drunken idealizing of the world. If His sorrow caused Him to fast, still more was this effect produced by the peace of this super-mundane retirement, in which He could spend forty days as one holy festival in the presence of His Father. This preponderance of the rest of God over human labour in His spirit-this glorification of His sorrow in His blessedness, of His love of men in His love of God, was just the preponderance of His freedom over the sympathies of His life, which resulted in His victory. This peculiar state of mind serves to explain the long fasting of Christ. Even in the first days of His fasting, criticism begins to be voracious while it accompanies Him with its meagre reflections. Its doubts cannot disturb us. Christ’s fasting was not legal, nor a result of enactment. He might have lived, like John, on locusts and wild honey without essentially breaking His fast.1 But we can find no difficulty if we take the fasting of Christ in the strictest sense. Often deep thinkers,1 contemplative devotees,2 sorrowing penitents,3 ecstatic enthusiasts, or persons under morbid excitement,4 nave fasted for an extraordinary length of time. But Christ is also in this respect the Prince of men, who in the highest heroic measure comprehends the particular possibilities of this class. In Him the power of the deepest contemplation co-operated with the power of the deepest sorrow, and these with the highest inspiration, in order to sustain a disposition so free from wants and so super-mundane, and which was perfected by means of the highest sympathy which His soul now felt for the entire morbid state of His generation. In truth, His fasting, according to its deepest significance, was the specific, redeeming counteraction against the malady of the world, as far as it consisted in a mad, false idealizing. To that insane chiliastic idolizing of the world which would fain have deluded and fettered Him, He opposed the counterpoise of His perfected sober-mindedness, of which the outward form appeared in His fasting. It should never be forgotten that Christianity was born into the world with a plenitude of the Spirit, which showed the freest exaltation above nature in the fasting of Christ. And this characteristic it retains through all time. In this heroic sobriety of soul it overcame and rescued the Roman-Grecian world in that wild debauchery which would have been its ruin. And thus, hereafter, the Church by the power of a spirit-like sobriety will overcome the jovial banqueting of those who will be eating, and drinking, and amusing themselves at the end of the world (Matthew 24:38-39). But what specially supported our Lord during those days in the energy of His life, was the creative vital power which gave Him copious supplies of nourishment and vigour, and refreshed His inmost soul. He lived by depending on the mouth of God, while He retired with ecstasy into His innermost principle of life.5 In the great movements of His exalted consciousness, the forty days might pass away as a single day, or an hour. It has been observed,6 that in the lives of Moses7 and Elijah,8 periods of forty days occur as fast-times in critical junctures; and the narrative of the sojourn of Jesus in the wilderness has brought to mind the forty years’ wandering of Israel in the wilderness. Some have made this remark in order to find out traces of fiction in the history; others, in order to comfort themselves with the thought that the number of forty days is not to be taken too rigidly.9 But this rhythmical recurrence of forty days in similar junctures of the Theocracy rather points to a more general mysterious law of life. The forty days’ fasting of Moses also forms a contrast to the preceding rebellion of the people, who ‘ate, and drank, and rose up to play,’ and showed their preference for a false religion. Elijah in like manner presented a spiritual antagonism to the hankering of his people after the fantastic pleasure of the worship of Baal. The common labour of man is comprised in the cycle of a week, and his spiritual labour in the cycle of a week multiplied into itself, in a period of about seven weeks of labour. The spiritual labour by which Israel, as a people, were obliged to purify themselves for the temperate enjoyment of the glories of Canaan, required forty years. But why should not the theocratic history, the innermost essence of which is poetry, be carried on, like poetry, in rhythmical relations? In Christ’s life also, this law of life must be fulfilled, according to which the psychical relations stand in living affinity to the earthly relations of time. But when the forty days were fulfilled, then he hungered. He became vividly conscious of His destitution. He hungered not only after bread, but also after man, and after living intercourse with the world. This was the moment in which all the tempting He had withstood was concentrated, and at the same time unfolded, in most distinct single temptations; the moment in which the tempter, whose spiritual influence He had up to that time experienced, came before Him in a more defined form. We are able to distinguish exactly these two stadia of the temptation: the secret whispers of the tempting spirit during the forty days, and its final concentration in the three assaults at the close. Matthew has condensed the whole temptation of Christ into those final assaults. Mark has simply noticed the temptation in its duration of forty days. Luke has specified the two constituent parts of the temptation. As soon as we have ascertained the significance of the whole transaction, no real contradictions can be imagined. But we must now endeavour to set in a clear light the distinction between the two forms of the temptation. During the forty days Christ was tempted in this way, that He was met by the Messianic ideal of Israel in its corrupted chiliastic form, sustained by all the morbid fanatical excitement then existing in the world, and by the powers of darkness. But this temptation was probably not an internal process, as it is often represented in order to explain the history of the temptation.1 Christ could not in an idle manner brood over the possibilities of sin, or imagine them in darkness by spreading out the allurements of the false ideal of the world before His own spirit. On this supposition, one part of His consciousness would have been the tempter, and the other the conqueror.2 Such a self-tempting of the consciousness can hardly be imagined without involving sin.3 The totality of the soul’s life will not allow us to separate the voluntary imagination of the tempting evil from an accompanying movement of evil desire. And apart from this psychological law, another law of life forbids our regarding the temptation of Christ as a fact of His consciousness isolated from His people’s life. It belongs to the order and soundness of the inner life to indulge in no idle brooding anticipations of the future. The soul can and should anticipate the outward experience, but only in proportion as it comes in contact with the spiritual prognostics of the experience, as the collision with experience begins to fall upon its ear; as therefore it is congruous with a human life which must be always prepared and led through the inward to the outward, and with its essential superiority to time. But if beyond this necessity it indulges in arbitrary anticipations, it gets out of its historical rhythm. This arbitrary exercise of the imagination would be in itself sinful, even should there be nothing sinful in the nature of its imaginings. But Christ could not disturb the order of His life in a morbid manner. His battle with the evil one was, therefore, not the result of a fiction. It was a genuine historical collision with him, though a spiritual one. The whole soul of Christ stood firm in the absolute rejection of the temptation, which was not in the least degree the offspring of His own fancy. But not the less was His soul moved and agitated by temptation, in consequence of the sympathy which bound Him closely to His own people and to mankind. In the element of this sympathy He beheld all the images of temptation standing clearly before Him-He heard all the tones of its allurements. Christ’s living impulse to manifest Himself to His people placed Him incessantly opposite to temptation, which was continually meeting Him in new forms. The repulsion with which He continually put it away from Him was His victory. In consequence of this repulsion, Christ must always have remained in the wilderness, unless in some particular moments of His conflict the possibility had not been developed and displayed to Him of entering among the people, and thus fulfilling the mission of His life. The struggle of Christ with temptation was at the same time to secure and determine the complete carrying out of His calling in all its distinguishing traits. And since, on the one hand, in the life of His free love the necessity of manifesting Himself to the people moved Him, and, on the other hand, He felt the necessity of concealing and withdrawing Himself from the people, the plan of His Messianic ministry required to be clearly and distinctly unfolded under the painful reciprocal action of this apparent contradiction. At the end of His conflict He had a fully developed solution of the difficult problem, how He could surrender Himself as the true Messiah to the people, who were carried away by a false Messianic image. The completion of this determination of His calling coincided with the completion of His victory over temptation, and therefore with the completion of the festal repose of His Spirit. But it would be contrary to all general and individual experience if we were disposed to admit that the temptation of Christ was ended and completed in a merely spiritual and ideal form. Actual fact shows us that the moral conflicts of man cannot possibly remain spiritualist combats. The tempting opportunity always meets the susceptible disposition, and converts the ideal conflict into a historical one.1 The solemnity of the divine superintendence demands it, and the thoughtfulness of life and the truth of victory. How many a flaming inspiration of idealist valour has become to ‘rude reality a prey!’ The victory of Christ over the tempter would not have been perfectly certain if the latter had not appeared to Him in historic reality. But how did he appear to Christ?2 We need not explain at length that Satan could not become a man, and assume flesh and blood, like the Son of God. Such a supposition would expose any one to the charge of Manicheism; it would be condemned for its dualism. But if it were imagined that Satan showed himself to the Lord in a spectral appearance, it can hardly be granted that Christ would let Himself be disposed of by such a spectre of hell on the soil of this earth’s reality, and be led through the world in all directions.3 Nothing is gained, if it is attempted to render the supposition easier, by supposing that Satan transformed himself into an angel of light; for never could he appear more detestable and repulsive in Christ’s eyes than under this mask. It is perfectly unchristological to regard these temptations as a series of juggling tricks by the arch-sorcerer, since it supposes that he transported the Lord from one scene of temptation to another.4 Even the pious popular feeling in the legends, which represent the tricks of jugglers as failing in the eyes of innocent children and virtuous maidens, goes beyond this mode of viewing things, which makes the eye of Christ dependent on the illusions of the Prince of Lies. Indeed, if we wished to deal seriously with this supposed illusion, it might be difficult to distinguish it from the beginning of an internal infatuation. The tempter did not approach the Lord with juggling tricks, but in the dangerous power of historical circumstances. The kingdom of Satan was represented by the false tendency of the kingdom of this world, and this lastly by the perverted tendency of the Jewish hierarchy. But that the Jewish hierarchy about this time were in quest of a Messiah according to their ideal, may easily be proved. That deputation which the hierarchy sent from Jerusalem to Jordan, for the purpose of obtaining from the Baptist an explanation respecting his own character, must have returned to Jerusalem, according to the dates furnished by the Evangelists, about the time when Christ’s forty days’ sojourn had really expired. From the account of the Evangelist John (John 1:28-29), it is quite evident that Jesus came back from the solitude of the wilderness just one day after the return of this deputation from Jordan. Now, the Baptist had declared to them in the most explicit terms that he himself was not the Messiah, but at the same time most distinctly announced that the Messiah was come among them without their knowing Him. From a sense of his theocratic duty, he could not content himself on such a subject with simple intimations. If he pointed out the Messiah to his disciples, much more would he mark Him out to the rulers of His people, whatever might be the consequences. If, then, the deputation came to him precisely at the time in which he had recognized the person of the Messiah, he would regard it as an intimation from the Lord to direct the attention of the deputation away from himself to the acknowledged Messiah. If he could not direct them to His place of sojourn in the desert, yet he could so exactly describe His personal appearance, that it would be easy for the deputation to find Him on their way home. But, at all events, it would be a very false conception of this politically excited hierarchy, to suppose that they would take home so quietly the announcement from the lips of the Baptist, that the Messiah was in their midst, without making any further inquiries on the matter of fact. The Jewish hierarchy, filled with deep rancour against the Romans, longed for a political Messiah. As to the existence of this longing, we must not be misled by the hypocrisy with which they delivered up the true Messiah to the Romans, professing the highest devotedness to the Emperor; it is sufficiently confirmed by the later Jewish history. These men therefore left the Baptist under the excitement of this longing, and pursued the traces of the Messiah; and all the more readily they would pass near His retreat on their way home, if, according to traditional accounts, He was sojourning in the wilderness near Jericho. It might not be difficult for them to find out the Man they were so anxious to see, since His inner conflicts were now ended, and His course of life or entrance into the world was now clearly marked out; He was therefore on the point of leaving the wilderness on His return to the Baptist. But if they found Him, they would accost Him with all the parade and impatience of their Messianic expectations. They would present Him with a Messianic programme diametrically opposite in all essential points to that which had been formed in His own mind.1 The same pure divine Prince of spirits who treated Peter as a Satan when he wanted to dissuade from the path that led to the cross, as ordained by His Father-who regarded the ripened thoughts of treachery in Judas as an inspiration of Satan (John 14:30)-and, lastly, who beheld in His own death on the cross a judgment on the prince of this world-must have regarded this historical temptation on the part of the Sanhedrim as the culmination and historic completion of that sympathetic temptation of Satan with which He had wrestled in the wilderness. The hierarchs, accustomed to a life of luxury, must have been astonished beyond measure, when they discovered the supposed instrument of their designs, the great Prince of the world, in the form of a fasting, hungry hermit. The oriental pomp, we might say, the poetry of courtiers, may be detected in the words, ‘If Thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread.’ As little as John the Baptist could have thought of a literal transformation of stones when he said, ‘God is able of these stones to raise up children to Abraham,’ so little could the voice of temptation have required here, in a literal sense, that the Lord should change stones into bread. Such a requirement could have been no temptation for Him. In the soul of Christ least of all could the thought arise, of using His miraculous power in so fantastic a manner. Indeed we can hardly impute such an expectation even to the Jewish hierarchs. It is true, they expected a Messiah whose rule should quickly change the desert into a blooming champaign;1 but in what manner, was a matter of indifference to them. If He had exhibited Himself decidedly in their sense as the Son of God, the wilderness would very soon, by His magical power over spirits, have become an Israelitish camp-scene, in which would have flowed a superabundance of all earthly enjoyments. But still more directly must He have been able, in their opinion, to change the wilderness into a region of delight by the magic art of a world-transforming culture. This, indeed, was the chief element of the temptation, that He should at once begin the desired transformation of the world for appeasing His own hunger, and for the celebration of the commencing worldly pleasure with the transformation of the wilderness in which they and He were then standing.2 But this proposal was a real temptation for Him, since the actual transformation of the world lay within the scope of His ministry, and since the infinite patience of His spirit was required to wait for that manifestation of the glorious fulness of life which always floated before Him as the slow, late bloom and fruit of all the activity of His spirit. Thousands suffer themselves to be misled by this first speech of the tempter to a deceptive false glorification of the world, colouring and covering the curse of the wilderness. Thus ofttimes, by popular delusion, by robbery, by the subversion of social order, by enormous loans and deceptions of all kinds, the deserts are made glad, and the stones are turned into bread. We detect traces of this sorcery in the chiliastic Zion of the Munster Anabaptists, in Wallenstein’s camp, as well as in many other historical caricatures of the world’s transformation. Still the tempter sings this old song,1 and his magic tones are just now sounding again through the world with a marvellous power of delusion. Christ, therefore, in virtue of that great sympathy with which He, as Prince of men, felt the pulse of humanity, heard in the address of the tempter the call of all carnal idealizing of hunger, want, and destitution in the world, the lamentation of all false mendicity, the fawning petitions of all chiliast worldlings, the extravagant requirements of all hypocritical and superficial philanthropists: ‘O command that these stones be made bread!’ The sympathetic rush of all morbid human longings after the enchanted land of an unjust and measureless abundance, and a glory of the flesh overpowering the spirit, broke out in this temptation against His heart, and made Him shudder, since he felt most deeply all the misery of the world-all the glow of its hope, and all the glory of its prospects. Thus He was tempted to create an abundance with the powers of His divine-human life, in contravention of the divine order, and in a self-willed magical manner. But before this delirious excitement He veiled His unique divine-human consciousness. He answered it with a divine word, which had formerly supported the confidence of pious human hearts during their sufferings in the wilderness: ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.’2 In the name of humanity itself, of necessitous man, He rejected the assumption that man cannot realize the ideal of his spirit unless he is living in the splendour of outward abundance. He asserted to the tempter, the dignity of the personality by which man is elevated above the requirement of mere animal existence. Man lives not by bread alone; but the breath of life from the mouth of God gives him his life in the most special sense. By His victory over the first temptation Christ laid the foundation for the genuine transformation of the world, and for the establishment of a real abundance upon earth in the blessing of His Spirit. The two miraculous feedings of the people in the wilderness, which He performed at a later period, would represent, as by a wonderful prelude, this transformation of the earth into the superabundance of heaven. Now began the second temptation. Satan led the Lord to Jerusalem, placed Him on a pinnacle, and said to Him, ‘If Thou be the Son of God, cast Thyself down; for it is written, He shall give His angels charge concerning thee, and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.’1 If Christ had really in an outward sense stood on a pinnacle of the temple,2 Satan would hardly have made the proposal to throw Himself down literally. At least this suggestion would not have been to Him a temptation-a psychical shock. But the actual temptation must have really agitated Him. Probably He was transported in a figurative sense to the summit of the temple-pinnacle by the ostentatious offers of the deputies of the Sanhedrim. No doubt the most flattering prospects awaited His recognition by the Sanhedrim. The most solemn assurances were given. As the prophetic and priestly King, He saw Himself already placed on the summit of the temple. Thence He was to make His entry into Jerusalem with the recognition of the priests. But this mode of manifestation to Israel appeared to Him as a fatal death-leap. It is true the plea was urged, that, according to the word of God, there could be no danger for the Lord’s Anointed; He would be borne by angels, and glide over all obstructions. But Christ foiled the tempter with the words, ‘Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.’3 Thus He opposed a definite word of Scripture, in its true scope, to the false exposition of an indefinite and obscure one. Thou shalt not attempt to draw God into the way of thy self-will, thy pride, or thy enthusiasm. He will not allow Himself to be drawn by thee into a sinful interest; much rather would He let thee fall and drop. If thou wilt tempt Him, the attempt will become a dangerous temptation for thyself. This is the meaning of the command which the Lord held as a shield before His breast, in order to intercept the second dart of the tempter. He rendered the Old Testament precept more pointed, without altering the meaning, by substituting the singular thou for the plural ye. He thus at the same time brought it home to the tempter, that he tempted God when he tempted Christ. It appeared, therefore, to the Lord a monstrous, fatal venture to trust Himself to the deputies of the Sanhedrim, and to give Himself up to the priesthood of His people. Had this been possible, only the corpse of the true Messiah would have fallen from the pinnacle of the temple among the people; the hierarchy would have made of Him a different character altogether from what He was. Let us imagine ourselves present at the moment when Christ saw the inclination of the fathers of His nation to receive Him according to their notions of the Messiah, with all the allurements of the historical and Israelitish good-will which such an offer must contain,-let us recollect that all the sympathies which tradition, patriotism, and piety form in the world’s history must be involved in His temptation to surrender the sanctuary of His inner life to an infatuated foreign power,-and we shall perceive that His heart must have been agitated to its inmost depths when the storm of such influences broke upon Him. How many noble spirits inflamed by patriotic or religious enthusiasm have fallen before the tempter, because they and their vocation have been held in thraldom by criminal, false, historical tendencies, traditions, and authorities! Jesus withstood the temptation in the power of His sober-mindedness, and of that pure fidelity with which He adhered to His Father’s ways. His victory laid the foundation for enabling the kindly and priestly people of believers to make Him known as the Messiah to the nation of Israel, and to all the world. In His triumphal entrance into Jerusalem at the last Passover, He allowed the first bloom of that homage to break forth which hereafter is to be rendered by the whole world. The deputies from Jerusalem, who, probably in the manner we have pointed out, had placed the Lord by their theocratic phrases on a pinnacle of the temple, could easily stand by Him on a mountain height in the wilderness as they made their last attempt to persuade Him.1 But the mountain on which they placed Him was a mountain from which they could show Him all the kingdoms of the world, and their glory; therefore a ‘mountain higher than all other mountains’ (Isaiah 2:2)-Mount Zion, according to its spiritual significance, in the last age of the world. The tempter displayed to Him the prospect of the theocratic government of the world. Probably into this disclosure, plots against the Romans were introduced,-at all events unspiritual, ungodly plots, by which their object was to be attained. And Christ was urged to approve of their hierarchical plan for the conquest of the world. But to Him this demand appeared as a temptation to fall down before Satan and worship Him. And so it was in fact. If the hierarchical or political conqueror of the world avails himself of evil means for his supposed good ends, he acts in reality as a vassal of the prince of darkness, and has bowed the knee to him. The demand for an outward bowing of the knee the crafty enemy would not indeed, in the presence of the Lord, have been very ready to make. But the prospect he opened had an infinite power of sympathetic influence on the heart of Jesus. He cast a glance in spirit over his inheritance-the world. Countless hearts were bleeding, the noblest spirits were waiting for Him, the promise of the Father guaranteed Him this inheritance. All the motives of compassion, love, and holy zeal seemed to oblige Him to hasten to leave no means untried, but at any cost to make Himself forthwith Master of the world. At such a prospect all His feelings for the world must have been aroused and inflamed. But the maxims on which He was to proceed in immediately beginning the conquest of the world, were such as He was obliged to reject. The splendour of the end could in no wise excuse to Him the detestable means of falsehood and unrighteousness. He could not wish to have the beautiful world at the price of homage to Satan. Every representation of the kingdom of God in the world founded on untruthfulness, false appearances, hypocrisy, and force, appeared to Him fraught with most horrible ruin to the world, a most destructive procedure. His wrath against the tempter now flamed high; and with the words, ‘Get thee hence, Satan, for it is written, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve,’1 He drove him from His presence. By this victory, in which Christ renounced all pretensions to the immediate conquest of the world, He has gained the world in God’s sight, and in the depths of His spirit and of His fidelity to God has already begun to take possession of His kingdom. Since He has not sought the government of the world by base expedients, He has been invested with it by the Father. Luke observes, ‘that the devil departed from Him for a season.’ Though Jesus all through His life was tempted in a general manner, yet He had two great master temptations to withstand; first, the temptation of all the demon-inspired pleasure and fanaticism in the world, the temptation to self-delusion in egoistic morbid enthusiasm and in intoxicated arrogance; and next, the temptation of all the demoniac dislike and dread in the world, a temptation to faint-heartedness and despair. The second did not immediately make its appearance when the first was over. But after a certain breathing-time, Christ had to fight with Satan’s temptations to despair. The instruments of this second temptation were men-the representatives of the Jewish world of spirit, and this circumstance reflects light on the instruments of the first temptation. The attitude assumed by the hierarchy against Jesus as soon as He appeared, was so hostile, that we can scarcely attribute it solely to His rejection of the rabbinical rules about the Sabbath. It leads us to conjecture, that the determined conflict between the spirit of Christ and the spirit of this hierarchy had already begun in secret when Christ publicly appeared. If Christ narrated to His disciples the history of His temptation at the beginning of His intercourse with them, we may easily conceive that, in consideration of their weakness, He would avoid placing the heads of the nation as the instruments of Satan in the foreground of His description. Besides, these personages were properly the mere conveyers of a temptation which in its general form He had encountered before their appearance, and which seemed to Him, moreover, in its historical fulfilment, as an act of the element of ungodliness in the world generally, and in hell itself. Hence the symbolic form of the narrative may be explained. When Jesus had gained His great victory, ‘angels came and ministered to Him.’ These words express primarily a spiritual and abiding fact. By this victory over the kingdom of darkness, Jesus was authenticated as the Prince of humanity, and humanity, which in Him had now withstood the severest temptations, appeared in fresh splendour. As a consequence of His moral elevation and the authentication He had received, Jesus was now the Prince of pure spirits, and in Him humanity was represented as a kingdom of spirits exalted over the world of angels. This, Jesus experienced in His own mind: heavenly sounds of congratulation greeted Him after the severe conflict. He received impressions from the world of spirits, and the homage of angels, when, by His victory over all sympathy with evil desires in the world, He had restored the full reciprocation with the joy of the pure spirit-world. And especially in this hour of joyous victory was He able to come into the most intimate spiritual intercourse with angels. But His victory over spirits became historically manifest by the entrance into His service of John and Peter, the noblest angels of the New Testament age. notes 1. The various explanations of the history of the temptation are of very different values. They prove the difficulty of the subject by their manifold contrariety; but most of them contain some elements of truth, which in a living historic view of the transaction appear combined in a higher unity. The temptation especially appears in the grandest manner as an operation of Satan, provided Satan does not appear bodily according to the popular representations, but his operation is conceived as the result of the sympathetic co-operation of the designs of the ungodly spirit of the world with the designs of the kingdom of darkness. We cannot admit that Satan could have captivated the eye of Jesus by the immediate influence of delusive appearances. Meanwhile we must not fail to observe, that the great idealist illusions of the spirit of the world may be considered as juggleries of darkness, the power of which Christ must have experienced mediately, since they have mingled with the noblest aspirations and forebodings of mankind. Hitherto, when the temptation has been explained as an internal occurrence, the objection has arisen, that the essence of the temptation was thus treated as consisting in a free exercise of the imagination of Christ on the possibilities of sin. But this objection is disposed of, when the internal temptation is recognized as an attack of the sympathetic action of the spirit of His nation and of the world on His soul, to which it was necessary for Him to give a decisive repulse. The hypothesis that Christ was tempted by a single deputy of the Sanhedrim, a Pharisee, has been in later times most generally rejected; it had been brought into discredit owing to its rationalistic origin, and the uninteresting manner in which it was propounded and advocated. This does not prevent us from accepting what is true in it, for explaining the history of the temptation. That Christ could regard men as satanic tempters has been shown. The principal thing here (besides the ethical postulate, that every victory over temptation is complete only when it becomes a historical fact) is the chronological hint, that the return of the deputation to the Baptist from the Jordan to Jerusalem must have coincided with the return of Christ from the wilderness to the Jordan; further, the theocratic requirement that John owed to all his hearers, and must have given them, the clearest information respecting the Messiah; lastly, the historical circumstance, that the conflict between Christ and the hierarchy at Jerusalem came on so early in such a decisive manner. That exposition which would treat the narrative as a parable1 has been disposed of by the remark, that in the construction of a parable historical persons are not made use of, and least of all does the maker of the parable introduce himself in the parable. Now we have seen, that the temptation, with all its simply defined historical precision, has an universal world-historical significance, and hence it is easily explained how it necessarily assumed in the representation a parabolic hue, as soon as the Lord, for good reasons, caused the historical elements of the temptation to retire behind the symbolic features which expressed their general meaning. (On this symbolism, see Hase, Leben Jesu, pp. 102, 103.) That explanation which would turn the whole transaction into a dream (Meyer, Stud. und Krit. 1831, Part 2), or into a vision (Paulus, das Leben Jesu, i. 142), we must regard as peculiarly unfortunate. A dream is not within the province of moral responsibility; and world-historical battles and spiritual conflicts are not fought out in the placid repose of a dream (see Ullmann). The state of ecstasy, too, must be regarded as the opposite pole to the state of moral wrestling in God’s champions, though it comes under the same category of true spiritual life. But in the life of Christ the idea of ecstasy is altogether excluded, since in Him the great antagonism between the inmost life in the spirit and common existence which rendered possible the ecstasy of the prophets, is lost in the harmony of perfected life. The most meagre view of all is indisputably that which regards the transaction as made up from a number of Old Testament fragments, as, for example, Elijah’s forty days’ fast, &c. (Strauss, Leben Jesu, p. 446). At all events, we do too much honour to such an exposition, which treats New Testament facts as a piece of mosaic made up of fragments from the Old Testament, as a composition of the merest outward similarities, to which also Jewish tradition must contribute, if we designate it a mythical exposition. Mythical exposition must throughout first point to the Christian idea-and then show that from an aversion to the incarnation and to fact, this idea has turned into the bypath of its spiritualistic embodiment in the myth. These collectanea of Old Testament analogies to New Testament facts have, however, served to draw attention to the rhythmical relations in the theocratic history.2 2. When the first temptation is designated a temptation to ‘the sin of Genius,’ to convert the objects of sense into nourishment for the spirit (Weisse, Die evangel. Geschichte, ii. 22), we may notice the change in the modern spirit of the age, which for some time was for regarding all the pleasures of sense with fanatical untruthfulness as nourishment for the spirit, devotion and worship, but which now has passed into a decided dualism, which goes to the length of regarding as sin the ennobling of the pleasures of sense into nourishment for the spirit. 3. The chronological difficulties which would make the history of the temptation uncertain, can be regarded only as assumed, if it is observed how plainly John the Baptist (according to John 1:28-29), at the time when the deputation from Jerusalem left him; represents the divine attestation to Jesus at His baptism as a fact that had previously transpired. The day after the departure of the deputation, Jesus comes to him, and John exclaims: ‘Behold the Lamb of God,’ &c. This exclamation is a proof that Jesus had been pointed out as the Messiah by that extraordinary event. But even when the deputation came to John, the manifestation of Christ must have taken place; otherwise he could not have said of the Messiah that ‘He stood among them,’ an expression which presupposes the manifestation of the Messiah for Israel. Now, since the forty days’ sojourn of Jesus in the wilderness followed His baptism, and this sojourn was closed just after the return of the deputation, the baptism must have taken place about forty days before their arrival at the Jordan. Negative criticism, in dealing with this chronological difficulty, is just like a man’s standing close under a bridge, and complaining that he finds no passage over, all the while running down the river, and never thinking of turning upwards. ‘The Evangelist does not make the Baptist speak as if six weeks had intervened between the baptism of Jesus and the narrative he now gives.’ Thus Strauss, Leben Jesu, i. 428. This perfectly arbitrary assertion has, not without reason, met with ironical treatment from Ebrard. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 78: 02.069. SECTION VIII ======================================================================== SECTION VIII the plan of jesus It was the blessed result of the temptation which Jesus passed through in the wilderness, that the whole course, as it was to be developed in perfect fidelity to God, was shaped clearly before His eyes, and settled in the choice of His heart. When He wrestled with the tempter, who wished to take from Him the attested evidence of His divine mission, the whole evidence unrolled itself, and He grasped it as a clear plan of His career. The first man passed beyond his former condition of life by transgression; the second by the preservation of His righteousness. When He rejected the satanic plan in all its parts, He gained the most definite and perspicuous counterpart of it, the plan of His future, of His earthly sojourn. May we be allowed to describe this ideal conception of His career, which Christ gained by the temptation, as His own plan? The term is at all events easily misunderstood, and at the best is feeble in relation to the great thought which in this case it must bear; and yet it is not easy to find a substitute for it. Christ gained in the wilderness a distinct survey of His real course through life. But the most powerful, freest self-determination was connected with this survey, which might, therefore, be regarded as His choice. He had chosen His life’s course when He returned from the wilderness. But this choice was not merely dynamic, but a deliberate arrangement of various parts-an internal programme-the ideal delineation of His pilgrimage. If we seek for the most suitable word to designate this ideal draught of the career of Jesus, we shall be led back to the word Plan.1 Not only does reflection form plans, but enthusiasm. Plan, indeed, often stands in contrast to the simple, noble frankness of disposition as a product of calculating design. But the discipline of the Spirit which refines the enthusiasm that pours itself forth irregularly, and which leads to clearness of perception respecting its functions, also compels to the formation of a plan. Not only civil concerns, diplomatic negotiations, and political intrigues rest upon definite plans, but still more the glorious works of art. A perfect work of art is, in its essential characteristics, prepared before its actual execution. Now it would be decidedly at variance with Christ’s life, if we were to admit that He had not reached this ideal formation of His life in His inner man, but proceeded to His work with a blind enthusiasm. The New Testament age begins from the first in a decided consciousness, which is in unison with the highest rapture of inspiration. This is the specific nature of Christianity, that, on the one hand, its enthusiasm is not pathological or pythical, and that, on the other, its clearness of spirit and consciousness is not reflection or enlightening of the finite by the finite. Therefore provision was made that Christ might enter on His career with perfected consciousness and developed distinctness. We have already seen that Christ’s plan could not be that of a political Messiah. Christ would have contradicted His own nature and calling, if He had wished to erect the political transformation of the world on the rotten basis of the corruption, religious and moral, of the ancient world. Even John the Baptist was far above such modern, demagogical ideas, to say nothing of Christ. But if Christ had first of all proceeded in such a false direction, and had been punished in it by failure, and thus thrown into the purely spiritual direction, after such a check He could not possibly have accomplished the pure ideal work of the world’s redemption. We may without any hesitation affirm that this would have been a fatal blow to the doctrine, precluding, that is, its application to moral relations. For a false swing of the pendulum, when it is over, is always followed by a counter vibration which is sure to produce a one-sidedness, even if it does not rebound again into the false. But a one-sidedness, such as might prove an ornament to the life of an Augustin, would form a remediless defect in the life of Jesus.1 And such a one-sidedness there would have been, if Christ had wished to confine His mission and agency for all ages to the spiritual. The institution, of the holy sacrament clearly proves that Christ intended to take possession of the whole phenomenal world. The sacraments represent this taking possession in symbolically significant beginnings. They form the germ of the world’s transformation; and since they constitute what belongs to the essence of the Church, we may regard the Church as the seed-corn of Christ’s commonwealth. It was therefore Christ’s leading thought in the predetermination of His career, that He wished to lay the foundation of a new world deep in the spiritual life of humanity, by spiritual operations. Since He had descended into the depths of the world’s corruption which confronted Him in the temptation, even to the point where He could seize and destroy it in its foundations, He saw clearly that in all-subduing love, in the firmest confidence, in perfect humility, and with the greatest boldness of spirit, He must go down even to hell; that He could find the world’s deliverance only in the most awful world’s judgment, and even in the deepest death of His own life. Thus was He obliged to lay the foundation of His work deep in the foundations, or rather in the abysses, of the spiritual world. The more He thus measured the spiritual depths of His work, the fainter must have been the prospect of bringing it into manifestation in the days of His earthly pilgrimage; but the more clearly must He have seen before Him the whole world-historical descent into hell, which He, and with Him the Church, had to experience in the world, and the more must the future unfolding of His economy in the world have appeared as the bright image of an unchangeable glory, as an infinitely splendid ascension to heaven. But especially it appeared to the Lord absolutely necessary to veil the consciousness of His divine dignity and Messiahship as a great mystery from the profane mind of His nation. The Jews could not hear of the Messiah without being intoxicated with political fanaticism on His account, or with hierarchical fanaticism, incurring guilt towards Him even to death. And yet it was absolutely needful that men should learn to know Him as the Messiah in order to find salvation in Him. Hence it was Christ’s first business to veil or unveil the mystery of His inner life with the clearest foresight of redeeming love, according to the measure of the spiritual necessities of the world. Thus in the wilderness He carefully veiled Himself before the tempter, in the garb of a plain man, a pious Jew. He expressed the glory of His inner life in Scripture passages, in, if we may so say, catechetical words. And when the Jews wished to make Him a king, when the demon of political enthusiasm began to work, He withdrew from the excited multitude and retired apart to pray. When the demoniacs proclaimed the fact of His Messiahship, which they had perhaps become cognizant of by a morbid relation of the soul to His consciousness, He rebuked them. He trusted Himself to no one, for He well knew what was in man (John 2:24). It is an evidence of the heavenly fervour which His heart maintained under all this caution, that He at once made known His dignity to the Samaritan woman; that almost immediately He told this poor sin-laden female that He was the Messiah (John 4:26). To her He ventured to reveal His Messianic dignity, for in Samaria there was not the danger connected with this revelation which in Judea made such a revelation impossible. And herein the power of His self-determination is manifest, which enabled Him to control the ardour of His soul, that He guarded His inner man with so perfect a mastery in humility from the profanation of the Jews. How long did Christ wait before He raised the conviction of the disciples themselves to full certainty that He was the Messiah! But it is a fact of appalling solemnity, that He did not impart the secret of His Messianic glory to the head of the nation, the high priest, till it had been demanded of him as a judicial confession, and the non-recognition of His real dignity had so far prevailed, that this confession was the occasion of His death (Matthew 26:64). Not till then was His secret fully secured from the boundless chiliastic worldliness which confronted Him, when He divulged it in the most solemn manner before the Sanhedrim of His nation, and not till then was completed the veiling of Christ’s life from all the profane spirits and thoughts in the world. With the crown of thorns and the reed sceptre, He came into the midst of the world’s history in a form in which He could be manifest only by His spirit to the best, the elect of men. And still the cloud of Christ’s world historical ignominy ever veils the holy of holies of His nature from the eyes of those who would turn spiritual glory into carnal. But though Christ, at the beginning of His public life, was firmly resolved to use the name of Messiah only with the greatest caution, since the Jews would have cherished a radically false notion of Him, as soon as they received Him under this name; yet, in His divine truthfulness, He could not help designating His unique nature by a corresponding expression. For this purpose He found the phrase the Son of Man, which is employed in the prophecies of Daniel (Daniel 7:13). Jewish expectation had not laid hold of this expression, as of the other Old Testament designations of the Messiah,1 and yet it was as characteristic as any other. It gave prominence to exactly that side in the nature of Christ which was to form the special redeeming counterpoise to the illusions of the Jews and of the world. The Jews expected in their Messiah the Son of God. This Son of God was, indeed, to be also a man, but not in the free universality of the human, but in the sense of pharisaic Judaism, and in the sense of a superhuman royal dignity-a demon-like Jew of extraordinary power. To this morbid expectation, Christ opposed His humanity and humaneness when He called Himself the Son of man. He wished above all things to be known as a true man-as a poor pilgrim (Matthew 8:20)-as a man of the meanest appearance, who might easily be misjudged (Matthew 12:32)-as a child of man who, like every other, was subject to the eternal decrees of God (Matthew 26:24); yea, as one who was looked down upon contemptuously by mankind, despised and rejected; who was to be the most marked man on the scale of human misery (Mark 8:31). Already as such a human being, belonging to the human race, in the reality of His life and sufferings the Lord contradicted the fantastic, orientally exaggerated image of a king, by which the Jew celebrated his Messiah as superhumanly prosperous. But also in the sense of humaneness, of free philanthropy, Christ wished to represent mankind. In the forbearance with which He treated His infatuated adversaries (Luke 9:56); in the universality with which He devoted His saving love to all the lost (Luke 19:10); in the power, lastly, with which He exercised His humaneness in the heroic service of philanthropy in His redeeming death (Matthew 20:28),-He presented the bright image of divine humanity as the soul of the life, in opposition to the Jewish pride of ancestry which would have subjected the human race to Judaism, divesting it as far as might be of its proper humanity. But this expressive demonstration of His being man leads to the conviction, that Jesus in a peculiar sense felt as man. He was not a singular particular man, but the Man simply as the Prince of men. But He was not only the Man simply, but the Son of man, since He was descended from humanity through the Virgin. Humanity had been pregnant with Him in its wrestling after the righteousness of God, in its aspirations it had brought Him forth under the operation of the Spirit. In the power of this descent He represented the second, higher generation of humanity; He is the second man, the man of the Spirit who is from heaven-the wondrous flower which appears as a bright flame of heaven on the top of the old, dark, decaying genealogical tree of earthly humanity (John 3:13).1 Christ therefore expressed the perfected spirituality of His natural human life when He came forward with this name. With this He demands of the hierarchy in Israel, of His own nation, and of the whole world, perfect regeneration by His Spirit (John 3:3). But although Christ adopted the title, Son of man, in order to express and carry out the contrariety between His life and the Messianic expectation of the Jews, and all the chiliastic worship in the world of noble birth and genius, yet He did not thereby wish to contradict in the least the true, prophetic Messianic expectation in Israel. He was perfectly aware that He was announced as the Son of man by the prophets, and also that this name denoted the Messiah. The words He uttered in the Sanhedrim-‘Hereafter ye shall see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven’ (Matthew 26:64)-very distinctly allude to the designation of the Messiah in the prophecies of Daniel. Jesus had therefore consciously selected from among the titles of the Messiah, exactly that which marked Him as the future Judge of the world. But He chose it on this account, because, among the various designations of the theocratic Prince, it was the title that seemed suited to preserve or divulge His incognito among His nation, in proportion as it might be needful. But at that juncture, when the hierarchy were on the point of condemning the Messiah, He found it necessary to bring forward very distinctly the Old Testament use of this name in reference to the Messiah, and by which He was accustomed to appear in their midst, in order that they might not be able to accuse Him of having led them into a mistake respecting His nature by using a non-theocratic name. He did this in a declaration respecting the Son of man, which made it clear that He was the same wonderful Son of man of whom Daniel had prophesied. In the same degree, therefore, as this name served for the concealment of His nature, it also served for unveiling it to all susceptible spirits. It has, in the course of the world’s history, taken under its protection the doctrine of the incarnation of God against all idealist or gnostic attempts to explain away the personality of Christ;-the doctrine of the divine destiny of humanity, against all monkish or materialistic contempt of human life;-and lastly, the doctrine of the universal call of humanity to salvation, against the perversions of the doctrine of election;-with strong and powerful efficiency. In truth, this title of Christ encloses a richness of meaning which is continually unfolding itself with increasing glory, and can fully manifest its hidden splendour only when the Son of man shall summon the world before Him in His judicial glory.1 (John 5:27; Matthew 25:31.) When therefore the Lord was certain that He must veil the consciousness of His Messianic glory before the world, and could only unfold it with the greatest caution,-that the gradual disclosure of this dignity is the judgment of the world, and that its completed revelation will coincide with the final judgment, it was at the same time decided in His soul that He must abide under the law in Israel until the time of His personal glorification. He was, therefore, consciously ‘made under the law’ (Galatians 4:4). He was obedient to human ordinances, as ordinances of God, even unto death, the death of the cross (Php 2:8), in order to communicate His divine-human life to the life of the world, to implant it in the world. In the apostle’s words just quoted the progressive stages of this obedience to the lowest depths are indicated. In the human jurisdiction to which the Lord was subjected, there appears a definite succession of stages in the historic exhibition of eternal ideal right in which He moved, as a peculiar life-element, one with His own life. The first form of historic right appears in the monotheistic original laws of the patriarchs (John 7:22). To these laws He was already bound by circumcision. Its second form appears in the theocratic national law of Israel given by Moses. This law also He acknowledged in His life and conduct (John 7:23), and intimated to the Jews that He was placed under it (Mark 10:19). Further, the historic right took a third form in the teachings of the prophets. These also were held sacred by the Lord, as He plainly showed by submitting to John’s baptism, which He did in order to fulfil all righteousness. These three historical forms of eternal right appeared to Him as the pure lineaments of ideal life-as the several outlines of revelation, which in His life attained their living realization; and so far He distinguishes them, taken together as holy writ, or as the law and the prophets, very distinctly from the later historical stage of order and right,-that is, from the maxims of the scribes, the decisions of the hierarchical government, and the administration of political power. The three former stages of right embrace the theocratical forms of historical right; the three latter, its hierarchical and political forms. But although in these latter forms of right He perceived great and serious misrepresentations of eternal right, and even flagrant contradictions, yet He valued them as regulations of life, to which He at all times rendered obedience in their limited sphere. We can therefore regard these forms as the second half of the stages of historical right. The ordinances of the elders form, then, the fourth historical unfolding of right: He also declares their national authority in express terms (Matthew 23:2-3; Matthew 23:23). The ecclesiastical government in Israel forms the fifth region of historical valid right. To this jurisdiction also He submitted with free recognition as an Israelite (Matthew 5:22),1 even to death (Matthew 26:64). Lastly, the sixth form of historical right is seen in the political authorities that confronted the Lord as an abstract, purely civil power. This power also He acknowledged in its sphere, as a power ordained by God (Matthew 22:21) over the property and lives of those under it. He became obedient to this political right, even to the death of the cross, on the accursed tree which the Romans had planted in the land. Thus, from the stage of ideal right, which He specified as ‘from the beginning’ (Matthew 19:8), from the first stage of which the right proceeds through all the stages, and which forms with them a cycle of seven stages of right, He descended to the lowest stage, and endured the extremest or most horrible destiny of the lowest stage-the cross, with entire resignation to the will of the Father. This obedience exhibits the historical consummation of the Incarnation, we might say, the historically satisfied consummation. But such an obedience Christ could not have rendered, if it had not been from the first His decided resolution. But the sharpness and decisiveness of His historical fidelity appear in all these spheres of right in the most luminous indications. He withdrew Himself from the people who would have made Him a king; for He felt Himself to be a subject-His kingdom was not of this world: this was His political obedience. On the demand of the Sanhedrim, He made the declaration on oath that He was the Messiah: thus He acted as a member of the Jewish commonwealth. He gave a reply to the scribes by answering them out of the Old Testament, and allowed their gnat-straining to pass as long as it did not contradict higher laws. He held the prophetic right sacred, with a strictness which, as we have seen, went beyond that of the Baptist. But he adhered to the Mosaic right with a decisiveness which even curbed the first enthusiastic liberalism of the disciples. He clearly saw that He must confine Himself and His ministry, during His earthly pilgrimage, to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (Matthew 15:24); and it is a very significant fact, that He granted aid to the Canaanitish woman only on the urgent intercession of His disciples. He could not begin His work among the heathen at the risk of destroying His work in Israel-that is, first of all, among His own disciples,-and therefore He let their intercession precede His aid. Just looking at this completeness of the national fidelity, we might assert that He was the most punctilious Jew, the King of the Jews. But He was so, because He was the Christ. His perfected love entered into all the conditions of its revelation arid victory, in the whole historic form of a servant, in which alone it could complete its work with heavenly freedom. The Lord in His ministry paid particular attention to the patriarchal right; in His plan for the extension of His kingdom He placed the Samaritans as theocratic Monotheists before the Gentiles (Acts 1:8), and He gave as a reason for visiting Zaccheus the publican, that he also was a son of Abraham (Luke 19:9). Abstract cosmopolites and legal theorists have no notion of free love in this scrupulous attention to the conditions of historical fidelity. But this attention to conditions in the life of Christ because it was a perfectly conscious act of pure love, and because it was in unison with His life, could appear only as a result of the purest self-limitation and of the freedom of His Spirit. He never could render historic obedience, so as to place Himself in contradiction to eternal right, to the divine righteousness which was His very life. Rather could He only so exhibit His fulfilling of the law, that, by virtue of the ideal feeling of right, He corresponded to the ideal life-point in the historic right itself, to the will of God in Him; and therefore He decidedly rejected every claim in which the historic right contradicted the ideal, or, which is the same thing, in which the lower right contradicted the higher. Wherefore from the first He could not allow the semblance to arise, of being in His inner man an unwilling servant of the existing public constitution. He wished His own historical obedience to be regarded as an act of freedom. Thus He preserved divine freedom even in submission to Pilate (John 18:36), and equally before the disciples (Matthew 26:53) and before the armed band (Matthew 26:55), and especially by His dignified silence before the Sanhedrim. With such an express preservation of His Messianic dignity He observed the Sabbath (Matthew 12:8); He paid the temple-tax (Matthew 17:27); and appealed to the testimony of John the Baptist (John 5:33-34), to the writings of Moses (John 5:46), and lastly, to His correspondence with the spiritual vision of Abraham (John 8:56; John 8:58). If especially we estimate, according to their full meaning, the words which He spoke before the Sanhedrim respecting His judicial glory, they will strike us as an appeal from their judgment to the tribunal of God, and as a summons to appear before His own tribunal at His second coming to judge the world. These protestations of Jesus ought to secure the world from the false notion that He was fettered by its ordinances according to its own want of freedom. But His own life was ensured by the circumstance that He recognized, in the discharge of His historical obedience, the completion of His destiny and the fulfilment of Scripture (Matthew 26:54). It was clear to Him that only in this way of self-renunciation could He attain to the most complete manifestation of Himself as bringing salvation to the world. The entire unfolding of the fidelity of His heart, of the holiness of His spirit, was possible only by means of this most complete obscuration of His glory. But in this sense He also fulfilled the law and His own destiny. His life gave a new shape and meaning to all the forms into which its contents were poured. By His political obedience He shed a lustre on the sphere of civil order, as a sphere of the all-powerful governing righteousness of God; He thereby made the civil obedience even of the oppressed free. He caused the suffering of the oppressed to appear as a suffering of national retribution (John 19:11), and the suffering of the innocent as a seed-time of blessing and honour. In the sphere of political relations, He always kept the domain of God separate from that of Cæsar; and since by this means he set the spirit and conscience at liberty, He sowed likewise the seeds of civil freedom. But His ecclesiastical obedience to the Sanhedrim must have put the final seal to His Messianic manifestation. The Sanhedrim rendered His cause this service, that it made Him attest His Messiahship on oath before the highest ecclesiastical judicature in the world, and it was chiefly owing to their opposition that the whole riches of His life were unfolded. The disputations of Jesus with the scribes laid the foundation for unveiling the New Testament in the Old, and for distinguishing the New Testament form of revelation from that of the Old. His faithful adherence to the prophets contributed to bring forward several features and stages of His life in all their spiritual depth and world-historical importance. Then, lastly, as to His relation to the law, He could not fail to perceive that the pure theocratic lineaments of the law were the outline of a life infinitely rich, namely, of His own, and that for that reason they must necessarily be transferred into the lines of eternal beauty, of the divine-human life, as soon as He filled them up with the contents of His own life. Under His breath all the buds on the thorn-bush of the Old Testament law must unfold, and the roses of the New Covenant expand in profusion. The law pronounces a curse on the transgressor, at the same time it announces a blessing, the blessedness of the righteous. In its negations it describes all the forms of the sinner; but in its positivity and unity it is the sketch of the holy life of the God-man. But in this deep reference to Christ, the so-called moral law-the civil social law of Moses-did not stand alone; the ceremonial, or ecclesiastical social law, was also included. It was a shadowy representation of the life and sufferings of Christ, so that every form of it acquired in the conduct of Christ a New Testament significance. The pilgrimages of Christ to attend the feasts of the law became the journeyings of free, beneficent love; and from the feast of the Passover bloomed forth the Holy Supper. But the types of this law were sufficient of themselves to reveal to the Lord the grievous termination of His life. If He had not been familiarized with the dark side of His future by the serious portents of His sacrificial death in the history of His childhood, by so many a bitter experience of His youth, and by the predictions of the prophets, yet the fearful symbolic language of the sacrificial system would have led to the same result. For He, in whose spirit the Theocracy was consummated, must certainly have known how to interpret the spirit of its signs. The same holds good of the theocratic dignities which were comprehended in the name of the Messiah. He would not have understood the official title of His own being, had He not been conscious that in the actual anointing of His spirit’s fulness all the theocratic offices and dignities were united according to their deepest meaning in His personality, and were to be realized in His vocation. He must have been perfectly aware that His being, as the complete revelation of the Father, was itself prophecy completed; that in His pure self-surrender to the Father, the full meaning of the sacerdotal office appeared, and it became His calling to give Himself for the life of the world; that, finally, His Spirit was the true, eternal King of humanity, and therefore by His Spirit He was to establish His kingdom in the world. Thus, in the consciousness of His Messianic dignity the chief outlines of His ministry were given. But these outlines came out more distinctly to His view by means of the lineaments of the law and the intimations of the prophets. It was therefore evident to the Lord at the commencement of His public life, that he came to fulfil the law and the prophets; that is, to unfold by His life no less than by His teaching the whole ideal contents of those lineaments of the law and intimations of the prophets, according to the spirit from which they emanated. But it belonged to this fulfilment that He interpreted the three theocratic forms of the historic right by the ideal law, and that by the same law He adjusted the three hierarchico-political forms of the historic right-that, generally, He corrected the lower laws by the higher, and thus restored the true ideal order of ordinances in the exhibition of the supremacy and subordination of the various rights. The development of historic right, as it is conducted by the hierarchy or by political rulers (the civil power), appears oftentimes as a tedious gradual inversion of the eternal ordinances of right by which the undermost becomes changed to the uppermost. The rights of Cæsar often supplant the rights of God by being made rights of conscience; ecclesiastical regulations often paralyze the exposition of Scripture by quenching the Spirit; the expositor often obscures the prophets and law of God by false glosses. In this manner a slow and secret revolution is going on in a thousand ways under the surface of the most quiet historic conformity to the law, and an unbounded desolation is effected in the domain of the spiritual life. These insidious revolutions in the history of the world are sure to be done away with by reforming spirits. Thus Christ as a reformer confronted the revolutionary desolation which the hierarchy of His nation especially had caused. Generally, He vindicated in the widest extent the ideal order of the historical relations of right. He held the power of the magistrate sacred as ordained by God, and was subject to it in its sphere; but he would not be fettered by it in the sphere of His prophetic calling. When Herod, His prince, wished to scare Him away by artifice from the scene of His ministry in Galilee, He answered his messengers, ‘Go ye and tell that fox, Behold, I cast out devils, and do cures to-day and to-morrow, and the third day I shall be perfected’ (Luke 13:32). And when the same prince ‘hoped to have seen some miracle from Him, and questioned Him in many words, He answered him nothing’ (Luke 23:8-9). To Pilate He spoke of his sin, and stood in his presence as the King in the kingdom of truth. However, He appears to have acknowledged his judicial right, chiefly because He had been delivered to him by the Sanhedrim (John 18:34; John 19:11). For, in matters of Jewish ecclesiastical law, He regarded the Sanhedrim as the supreme court. But when the Sanhedrim or Pharisaism wished to obstruct Him in His higher dignity, in His prophetic calling, He gave way not a single step. Collisions on this ground He never shunned in the least: this is shown by the frequent cures He performed on the Sabbath. He pronounced a woe on the scribes and Pharisees because they broke the law of the Sabbath by their traditions (Matthew 23:1-39; Mark 7:13). But He also showed how the law of Moses was subordinate to the fundamental monotheistic law of the patriarchs; and, lastly, how it was subordinate to the ideal original law of humanity (Matthew 12:8; Mark 2:27; Mark 3:4), and how even the patriarchal regulations-for instance, the custom of divorce sanctioned by Moses-ought to be determined according to this primeval law, which was at one with the moral nature of man and the immediate expression of the divine will (Matthew 19:9). Indeed, there can be no real contradiction between the theocratic rights as they proceed from the patriarchs, from Moses and the prophets, and the eternal primeval laws, but the former are to be explained by the latter. But Christ could not possibly have restored the ideal order of right with such exact and discriminating certainty, had He not been animated by the spirit of the law. In this spirit He could unfold, arrange, and fill up the law, and therefore change it into spirit and life. The entire ideal contents of all divine and human rights were taken up into His very life. Therefore not a tittle of the law perished; every single declaration of it was found again in His life, in the form of the Spirit. It was evident to our Lord at the commencement of His ministry, that in this manner He must come forward as a reformer of the historical relations of right in His age. The restoration of the ideal stages of right was therefore an essential element of His plan. But this consciousness must necessarily have produced in Him the anticipation of His sufferings, and indeed of His civil doom. Had He not been conversant with the predictions of the prophets concerning the sufferings of the Messiah, and had He come in no other way to this anticipation, yet He would have reached it with perfect certainty from the conflict between the divinely firm decisiveness of His heavenly ideality or holiness, and the petrified rigidity of the hierarchical statutes and social corruptions. In the necessary consequence of the system which stood opposed to Him, the entire depth of suffering which awaited Him might be unfolded to His view. No sooner was His rejection on the part of the hierarchy certain, than the certainty must also have been present to His soul, that they would deliver Him up to the Gentiles. This delivering up, of which He had already found an announcement in the prophets (Matthew 21:42), was the central point of His anticipations, and a chief ingredient in the grief which always pressed heavy on His soul. But then the result of this act of the hierarchy could not be concealed from the spirit of Christ. He foresaw that the Gentiles would reject Him as well as the Jews; and as He was aware that the severest punishment of the Romans, the strongest expression of the world’s curse, consisted in crucifixion, His spirit would always descry as the last object in the path of His sufferings, the death of the cross. As often as in spirit He looked down the precipice of the rejection which awaited Him, His eye found no resting-place short of the abyss of misery and shame on the cross. In such an anticipation, the particular features of His suffering would more easily present themselves the more closely they were connected with the nature of this suffering; as, for example, the spitting with excommunication, the scourging with the crucifixion. But it was simply impossible that Christ could look down into the whole abyss of His sufferings and crucifixion, without perceiving with equal clearness the opposite heights of His glorification. This glorification was assured to Him by faith in the Father, in His righteousness and faithfulness, and by the voice of the prophets as well as by the consciousness of being without a parallel, and by the inner power of life and victory which marked His personal being. But as His death was unparalleled, so likewise must His life appear to Him: deep as was the descent, so high would be the ascent; steep as was the precipice of descent, so would the exaltation be sudden and lofty; appalling to an unheard-of degree as was His judgment, so would His vindication be wonderful and glorious. Thus the mystery of His resurrection would be disclosed to the Lord by this distinct foresight of His humiliation. Lastly, in order to mark His foresight most exactly as christological, we must observe that in His death He must have seen the centre and beginning of the final judgment of the world, and therefore in His victory have looked for the principle, the real beginning of the future resurrection, and, of course, the resurrection of individuals. But not only was His personal glorification present to His soul, but also its world-historical unfolding in the glorification of the Church. His Church must suffer with Him and be glorified with Him. And as it was impossible to separate His own destiny from that of His Church, it was equally impossible to disjoin the efficacy of His death from the efficacy of His resurrection. Hence His death appeared to Him as the beginning of the glorification of His name and of His work in the world (John 3:14; John 12:23). With His death the entire ancient period of the world was brought to its completion, especially its law and its prophecy. He became free from the law on the cross, since a distorted representation of the law crucified Him. Henceforth the entire essence of the law was preserved and enshrined in the life of His spirit; but its whole form, as to its religious importance, was exploded and dissipated. His death, therefore, was purely identical with the abolition of the rights of the Jewish hierarchy, as well as with the annihilation of the ancient value of the temple (John 2:19). His spirit was now released from all Jewish legal restraints; His new life belonged to Him alone in His free glory, but in His love it belonged to mankind. His Church also was called to enter by His death into this communion of His freedom. As Christ’s Church, it is essentially free in Him; and when it submits to legal restraints, it does this in the spirit of freedom, in the unfolding of its life for the world, and in its ardent desire to imbue the life of the world with its own life. As a royal and priestly Church, as the bride equal in dignity of birth to Himself (Matthew 22:2), the Church, which was to be the reward of His sufferings, stood before His soul. Christ’s foresight could not indeed take the shape of reflection or laborious deduction. But still the threads of the essential relations between the events of His future were the already marked track which must have been lighted up before His eye, when the prophetic spirit in Him, as by flashes of lightning, threw one great illumination after another over the field of His future. And it is necessary that we should most clearly perceive these essential relations, if we would properly estimate the full distinctness, the bold relief, of so many separate features in the future as foreseen by Christ. If, for example, we have recognized the cross as the lowest depth in the region of the ancient curse of the world, we conceive that the Lord with His deepest humiliation was already assured of His death on the cross. But His foresight was matched by His resolution to persist firmly and intrepidly in the path of His Father’s guidance-to reject all the enticements to bypaths as satanic voices-in all the sufferings which He was destined to meet on this path, to look only to the Father’s regulative will, and in the judgment which this will ordained for the guilt of the world, to welcome the atonement, and with perfect acquiescence in this judgment, to complete the atonement for the world. But if Christ was so familiar in His spirit with the fearful path of death on which He was to accomplish His work,-and with the glory which awaited Him on that path,-the question arises, How, with a clear foresight of the future, could He lead a genuine human life devoted to the present? In our times there has been a disposition to find manifold contradictions between the separate elements of such a foresight, and opposite moods or states of feeling in the life of Jesus. It has been asked, for instance, if Jesus was certain of His glorification, how could He be so deeply agonized in Gethsemane? or, if this suffering of death still stood before Him, how could He triumph beforehand in His high-priestly prayer? How could He weep at the grave of Lazarus, when He was on the point of raising Him from the dead? All these questions seem to proceed from a mode of viewing things, which is more conversant with the nature of petrifactions than with the nature of the human soul. The human heart, placed between the infinite and the finite, and forming the centre of these two departments of life, has a wonderful facility in evil as well as in good of varying its moods in quick succession-now in ‘heavenly ecstasy,’ and anon ‘exceeding sorrowful unto death;’ and more or less to lose sight of the greatest good fortune near at hand in the misfortune of the present moment, or of the heaviest impending calamity in the enjoyment of the passing hour. Is not all the cheerfulness of human life confronted by the certainty of death? Do not all the tears of the pious flow under the anticipation that a harvest of joy is awaiting them. In relation to this subject, modern criticism has framed a category of impossibilities, which we must regard as a perpetual petrifying of the human heart, begun under the operation of a philosophic abstraction which looks with contempt on concrete life. But the more competent we are to estimate the giant-harp of human emotion and the quick alternation of its tones, the more able shall we be to understand that region in which the human soul appears in heroic proportions, and where the fiercest battle of life is fought out in the most varied situations, under the liveliest play of the strongest emotions. In this freshness and power of human nature, Jesus was also the Prince of His race. It belonged to the healthy state of His human life, that with a genuine human bearing and disposition He could reveal heaven, and conquer hell, and experience in His own mental moods the whole contrast of descent to hell and ascension to heaven. This healthy state of His life may be compared to a finished musical performance. The life of Jesus is, first of all, to be regarded in its rhythm as a complete life. He moves in the measure of the most correct succession of His internal states of feeling; He does not with His states of feeling lag behind the time or measure of reality, and as little does He impatiently hasten before it. Hence His future lies before Him in correct perspective. He cannot possibly derange the order of His life’s course. He could not, on the one hand, as a dreamer in a literal sense, anticipate the particular circumstances of His future experience; nor, on the other hand, could He ever live a day without observing the strict relation of every step to His final aim. From this fundamental law of His life’s course resulted the rhythmical, that is, measured recurrence in the presentiment of His death as well as in the presentiment of His glory. This rhythm of His life was connected with its dynamic perfection. Christ spent every instant as a moment of eternity. He gave to every experience its correct intonation. He often allowed extraordinary phenomena, such as the storm on the lake, to pass over His soul like mere shadows, while an incident apparently insignificant, such as that of the Greeks wishing to see Him (John 12:20), agitated Him violently. But He so correctly estimated impressions, that His counteraction of them was perfectly proportional. This delicately adjusted dynamic gives His life the expressiveness of a vitality and power combining heavenly tenderness and strength: the gentlest tones, the slightest breathings, alternate with such as are the sharpest, strongest, and most startling. Hence Christ estimated every event according to its just importance: the signs of His future must have met Him in all His experiences with constantly increasing distinctness; for every single moment has the significance of a symbol for all the moments with which it forms a whole. Thus to Christ’s eye the dark night of His betrayal began to cast its shadows from the first embezzlement which Judas committed on the common stock. When Peter protested against His crucifixion, He probably saw at that hour a clear prognostic that this disciple would afterwards deny Him. And since every important fact had in the spiritual hearing of Christ the tone of its precise significance, so the hosannahs of the feast of palms could as little efface from His expectations the approaching crucifixion, as the cry, ‘Crucify Him!’ could efface the resurrection. If it be asked, How was it possible for the life of Jesus to represent itself in these refined, ideal, dynamic relations, we must seek the solution in its melodious beauty. The life of our Lord had in all its parts a complete lyric elevation and musical euphony, since He apprehended every fact of experience in God, and set forth every fact of activity with divine freedom. His consciousness stript from every experience the fact of evil, as that which, was opposed to God and must come to nought, and sent it back to hell, in order to receive the fact itself as a consecrated ordinance from the hand of God. Even His last agony and judgment appeared to Him as a cup in the Father’s hand, as a holy cup of the purest gold, which, in spite of the intense bitterness of its contents, He was ready to empty for the health of the world. His life, therefore, was sustained in all its utterances by the beautiful euphony of a bass, in which the pure human heart constantly rested in God’s fulness; and the eternal glory of God revealed itself in the sensibility and distinctness of man perfected in beauty. This melody of the life of Jesus allowed no disturbance to spring up in His inner man respecting His future; but, in consequence of the opulence of His soul’s life, it must needs unfold itself in the most exquisite harmony. It was in the nature of the case, that the soul of Christ could not be governed or wholly filled by any natural mood (Naturstimmung) of human life or by any single exclusive affection. With one pure feeling which moved Him, every other was in unison, as is conformable to life in the Spirit. And when one feeling expressed itself as the predominant tone in the highest degree, the other opposite one came forth in the purest harmonic relation. The two deepest feelings of His soul, relative to His future, were the presentiment of His condemnation and the presentiment of His glory. These two secrets, the one most mournful, the other most blessed, were moving jointly and incessantly in His heart. In the captivating form of a blessed sadness, or of a veiled heavenly cheerfulness, which we may regard as the usual mental frame of Jesus, we see the gently moving counterpoise of those fundamental feelings. The weights often oscillated according to the impressions which Christ received; sometimes one scale sank, sometimes the other. But never did the one feeling completely vanish before the other. In Gethsemane Christ appears dissolved in anguish and sorrow, especially in shuddering horror at the wickedness of the world; and with what touching pathos He here craves for human sympathy! and with what sublimity He raises Himself up! The prayer of His deepest agony on the cross, in which He divulges the crushing sense of being forsaken by God, is at the same time the expression of the highest confidence. And as in this manner the related tones of opposite moods are ever sounding together, we understand how it was that ofttimes the occasions of the Lord’s greatest joy were exchanged at once for the deepest sadness, as, for example, the jubilation on His entrance into Jerusalem; while inversely His bitterest experiences could indirectly call forth the most glorious outbursts of joy, as was shown in the wonderful elevation of His soul after the traitor had left the company of the disciples. Thus Jesus overcame what was dangerous in every single affection by the free, harmonious, collective feeling of His life. But the perfection of this harmony was shown by His walking in the Spirit, and therefore the riches of His life always harmonized as a united whole in His spiritual life. By this power of His inner life, He resolved His prospects into His presentiments, His presentiments into His fundamental dispositions, and these again into the spirit of His life. The same may also be affirmed of His plan. Notwithstanding the clearness of its leading outlines, and the continual unfolding of its several portions, this plan still necessarily maintained the free, flexible form of the spiritual life in which Christ Himself moved. The words of Christ distinctly indicate that its separate lines always met in the primary thought, that He was going to the Father. From this primary thought the separate parts of His plan would always enter into new combinations, just according to the train of circumstances through which Christ passed. What He saw the Father do, that He also did. He therefore always met the objective universe, in which He beheld the Father’s work, with a self-determination in which His own work combined with that of the Father in an act which should issue in the transformation of the world. Thus, then, the life-plan of Jesus, as it was completed during the temptation in the wilderness, consisted in a self-determination, developed according to its fundamental principles, always unfolding according to its individual traits, and renewing itself in the Spirit,-a self-determination according to which He wished to combine His Messianic life with the life of the world. But as He combined His whole being and its world-historical name in general with the world by a definite unfolding of His life, so this especially holds good of the separate blessings of His life. He combined, that is to say, the power of His life, salvation, with the faith of the world in the form of His miracles. But the light of His life-the truth-He presented to the world under the guise of parables. Lastly, He made the blessedness of His life become the inheritance of the world by founding the kingdom of God. These fundamental forms of the revelation of His life we have now to contemplate. notes 1. On the unveiling of the Old Testament economy as accomplished by Christ, see Harnack, Jesus der Christ, p. 5. ‘We must conceive of this “old to be fulfilled,” to which Christ refers, as an undivided whole, since He damaged it in no portion, He neither took away nor weakened any essential part. Hence an unprejudiced exegetical survey sees no reason for dividing the ideas of ὁ νόμος and οἱ προφῆται in a connection where their fulfilment is spoken of, but applies it to their full contents. Nor can we understand by what right each single chief division is to be taken for anything else than the whole law, and for the whole prophetic agency, when that designation (as is almost universally allowed) embraces the entire Old Testament, according to the constant phraseology of the New Testament.’-P. 11. 2. In the teaching of Christ a doctrine of right (a law) is contained, which comprises much sharper and more developed distinctions than is commonly admitted. The sphere that rules all positive spheres of right is that of ideal right, which is similar to the eternal in man, or to the essence of the Son of man. This right has been transplanted into the world in the form of the Gospel. The three spheres in which positive right has its sources, or in which ideal right becomes positive, are the circles of the Patriarchal, the Mosaic and the Prophetic Right. The patriarchal right has become fixed by tradition under the form of the Noachic ordinances, to which some other precepts belong. It is the right which forms the world-historical basis of monotheistic culture. Circumcision is the symbol of this sphere; it marks the religious civilization of the individual. The essential in which the symbol is fulfilled is regeneration, especially the general culture. This stage of right is perpetuated in the general morality of the cultivated world. The Mosaic right is the basis of monotheistic educated society, of which the characteristic is, that every individual is estimated as a person. So especially is the Sabbath made for man-for his personality. In particular, it protects dependent persons in their eternal rights. The essential of the Mosaic right reappears in Christian state-life. Lastly, prophetic right is the development of positive right according to its spiritual nature, in its spiritual infinity; the unfolding of the ideal law in the positive. This sphere has to exhibit the law in life. It is full of blessing and danger. The false prophet must be distinguished from the true. But he is judged according to his relation to the essential principles of the theocratic society, according to the positive divine law. This province of right is perpetuated in the free Church, and in science, art, and literature generally. The three following circles of right, which are exhibited in the maxims of the scribes, in the Sanhedrim, and in political power, are the circles of the interpretation, the application, and the administration of right. The concrete, Christianly grounded, and educated state embraces these circles, as well as the theocratic, in living unity. They appear singly in the region of the Academic Faculties, which express themselves by systems and opinions; in the region of Jurisprudence, according to right as it has been laid down; and in the region of Government, which carries into effect what has been determined by law. The theocratic idea of the state has its highest point in the right of the sovereign to show mercy; on the other hand, its lowest point is seen in the police: this restores the theocratic power in reference to the abandoned class. 3. The difficulties which Strauss has mustered against the idea of the Messianic plan (Leben Jesu, § 65-69) are summarily disposed of by the representation before us of the plan of Jesus. Thus, for example, the passage in Matthew 19:28 is said to prove that Jesus designedly nourished expectations of a worldly Messiah in His disciples, because the promise, that in the Palingenesia they should be judges of the twelve tribes of Israel, could not merely denote in a figurative sense their participation of glory in that state. If the author, by the christological idea of the transformation of the world, had got beyond the dualism between the abstract present and the abstract future world, he would likewise have got beyond this difficulty. But this idea appears to him, in its concrete fulness, only as a ‘monstrous representation,’ p. 521. When it is further said (p. 529), that the views of Jesus respecting ‘the abrogation of the Mosaic law’ are ‘so different from those of Paul, that what the former regarded as not ceasing till His glorious advent or second coming to renew the earth, the latter believed he might abrogate in consequence of the first advent of the Messiah on the old earth,’ we must here especially distinguish between abrogating or taking away (Abschaffung) and raising-a lifting to a higher position (Aufhebung); secondly, between a religious and a national raising (Aufhebung); thirdly, between the centre and the periphery of the coming æon (αἰὼν μέλλων), if we are to take a correct view of the subject. Christ Himself resolved to know nothing of an abrogation (Abschaffung), but only of a raising or elevation (Aufhebung) of it-a realization of the typical law in the life of the Spirit. Paul also, in this sense, found the Old Testament again in the New, and he, as little as Christ, abrogated the outward law, whose religious validity he impugned, in its national perpetuity. Lastly, as regards the new æon, Christ represented Himself as its principle and centre, and could not therefore attribute a religious validity to the law within the New Testament circle of His agency, that is, for the unfolding of this æon. The complete raising (Aufhebung) of the ancient legal conditions cannot take place till the future æon has gained its full periphery, which will be at the second coming of Christ. Consequently the passage in Matthew 5:18 may decidedly be understood to mean that the law would continue to exist in all its types, even to an iota (though in many modifications of form), till it should attain in the new world a complete living reality; or the law would eternally remain, and indeed, as far as it has not yet become life, will it remain as law, so that it cannot vanish entirely in the legal form till the perfecting of the life. It is clear, therefore, that no religious validity of the law before the second advent of Christ, and no special abrogation of it after that event, was appointed. Rather must every ‘jot and tittle’ of the law be eternally realized, according to its original ideality. The relation of Jesus to the heathen must be explained by distinguishing between the economy of His earthly ministry and the economy of His Spirit. The difference in His treatment of the Gentile centurion (Matthew 8:5) and of the Canaanitish woman (Matthew 15:24) is sufficiently established. That centurion was (according to Luke 7:3) a friend of the synagogue, and probably a proselyte of the gate. In his case, therefore, the spiritual conditions were present for the communication of miraculous aid. But in the Canaanitish woman these conditions were very questionable. At all events, it was requisite that the organ of theocratic faith should be fully unfolded in her, before Christ vouchsafed her a miraculous word. Besides, we must not overlook that intercession was made by the Jews when they saw the economical reluctance of Jesus. The history of the ministry of Jesus in Samaria will come later under consideration. 4. Strauss cites (vol. ii. p. 291) the well-known passages in which prophecies of the sufferings of the Messiah are found, and then goes on to affirm, that in these passages nothing Whatever is said of Christ’s sufferings, and closes with the assertion, ‘If Jesus in a supernatural manner, by virtue of His higher nature, had found in these passages a pre-intimation of particular traits of His sufferings,-since such a reference is not the true sense of those passages,-the spirit in Jesus would not have been the spirit of truth, but a lying spirit.’ Exactly in the same way he deals with the predictions of the resurrection, and in p. 323 repeats his unfortunate assertion, ‘If a supernatural principle in Jesus, a prophetic spirit, had caused Him to find in these passages a pre-intimation of His resurrection,-since in none of them could such a reference really exist,-the spirit in Him could not be the spirit of truth, but must have been a lying spirit.’ These assertions need no refutation; we only adduce them as historical notices. Just so the tendency of the critic to decide the question according to the popular representations which existed probably in the time of Christ, in reference to the sufferings of the Messiah, whether the Messiah announced His own death beforehand or not. ‘If in the lifetime of Jesus it was a Jewish representation that the Messiah must die a violent death, there is every probability that Jesus would receive this representation into His own convictions, and communicate it to His disciples, &c.; on the other hand, if that representation had not been current among His countrymen before His death, it would still be possible,’ &c. Lastly, we here class the question, Whence did Jesus, if He foresaw His own death, know for certain whether Herod would not anticipate the priests’ party, or who could assure Him that the hierarchy would not succeed in one of their tumultuary attempts at murder, and that, without being delivered to the Romans, He would lose His life in some other way than by the Roman punishment of crucifixion? We need not rise to the height on which Jesus stands in order to learn how to estimate the true nature of such questions. Who, for example, gave Napoleon the assurance that he would not die of the plague, when he went to Egypt with a presentiment of his future greatness? What assurance had Julius Cæsar in the storm at sea, that he could utter such bold words of confidence, that he would not perish in the waves? There were at that time no means of ensuring against the murderous disposition of a Herod and the stoning by Jewish fanatics; and thus it always remains a mystery in what way great men have been assured. 5. As to the question on the relation between the obscurer predictions of the death of Jesus in John and the more explicit ones in the synoptic Gospels, as Hasert has treated it in his work, Ueber der Vorhersagungen Jesu von seinem Tode und seiner Auferstehung (On the Predictions by Jesus of His Death and Resurrection), the previous question is of importance, to what times those single predictions belong. As these chronological data must first be distinctly explained in the sequel, we must return to this question respecting the said predictions. The gradual development of the foreseeing as well as of the predicting is indicated by the relation between Mark 8:31; Mark 10:33-34, or Luke 9:22; Luke 18:32:1 ======================================================================== CHAPTER 79: 02.070. SECTION IX ======================================================================== SECTION IX the miracles of jesus We have seen that Christ had decided on a mission in the world which was designed to form a great means of communication (Vermittelung) between the mystery of His glorious spiritual life, and the darkened, sickly, disharmonized world, which was not in a state to bear an unconditional unfolding of His glory. As one special form of this intervention for the purpose of incorporating the power of Christ with the world, we have, last of all, pointed out Miracles. By this reference of miracle to the means of communication, so as to place it under the same point of view as the evangelical parables and the founding of the New Testament kingdom of God, it is distinctly indicated that we apprehend miracles, first of all, on a side which forms a decided opposite to that in which it gives so much trouble to the critics who represent ‘the culture of our age.’ The miracles of Jesus appear, indeed, as very great events, extraordinary, unheard-of, and almost incredible, if we compare them with the course of the old dispensation of the world (alten Weltäon); and this is the common view. But if we measure them according to their number, appearance, and importance, by the infinite fulness of the power of Christ’s life, a saving power which restores the whole sinful world even to the resurrection, we must regard them as indeed small beginnings of the revelation of this living power, in which it comes forth as secretly, modestly, and noiselessly as His doctrine in His parables; and we learn the meaning of Christ’s saying, by which he led His disciples to estimate this misunderstood phase of His miracles, ‘Ye shall do greater works than these’ (John 14:12). But Christ’s miracles served in manifold ways to reveal His life-power to the world in subdued forms of operation. When Christ in these separate acts displays His agency, He lets Himself down to the sensuous level of the world, which only by these examples of His deepest universal agency can gain a perception of that agency itself. He places Himself first of all on a line with the wonder-workers, the exorcists of His time, while He has begun the great work of saving the world, and of expelling the evil spirits from the whole world. By healing the feet of a paralytic, He had to prove that He had previously healed his heart by the forgiveness of his sins. By His wonderful single operations, which powerfully affected the souls of men, He gradually aroused the perception of the susceptible for contemplating the great, eternal miracle which appeared in His own life. But for profane minds the Saviour of the world retired behind the wonder-worker. Often has it been attempted to find in the miracles of Jesus an ostentatious display of Christianity. But a time must come when men will learn to regard them as acts of the humility of Christ. Still, much of the wonderful that is from beneath must be set aside, before the wonderful from above is entirely acknowledged as the first interposition of Christ’s eternal life-power for the world. For this power is holy even as the spiritual light of Christ, as His title of Messiah, and as His blessedness in the vision of God; therefore, it veils itself to the captious, while it unveils itself to the susceptible, and even that measure of it which has become manifest in miracle, appears to them as too much. But we must not misapprehend either the one side or the other of the miracles in which this power finds its medium of communication to men. We might speak of these extraordinary operations of Christ’s life without employing the word miracle to designate them, and in doing so, clear the way to some extent for those who always imagine that the facts of the kingdom of God are dependent on the designations affixed to them, or on the later definitions of these designations. If, for example, we should call them, in accordance with the phraseology of the Gospels, spiritual primordial powers (δυνάμεις) or religious primordial phenomena (τέρατα or σημεῖα), we should have the advantage of representing them with these names in their relation to their living origin, the originator of the new dispensation (Æon), and so have designated them as the natural, necessary, and perfectly rational expressions of a new power. But these facts are still, as to their specific nature, rightly designated by the word miracle (Wunder); namely, when the miracle is regarded as a perfectly novel appearance, which as such calls forth a perfectly novel intuition and state of feeling in the beholders-the highest astonishment and wonder. Now if we have to seek for a developed idea of miracle, it must be almost superfluous to remark, that the Protestant scientific contemplation of the extraordinary facts in the Gospel history, to which the term miracle is applied, cannot be restricted to the definitions of the Church dogmatics. It is confessed that in the course of time these definitions have become more and more unwieldy. But while the free examination must be conducted independently of the maxims of dogmatic science, it must equally be set free from the authority of narrow, worn-out assumptions of natural science, as they have been commonly employed by ‘critical’ theologians against miracles. It is false when dogmatic theology speaks of an absolute removal of the laws of nature, of a sheer suspension of them by miracle;1 but is equally false when the philosophic culture of the age pretends to a knowledge of absolute laws, which must make a miracle simply impossible.2 Such laws of nature are to be called physical gods, or rather divinities; they are perfect contradictions throughout. A law is from the first conditioned by the sphere in which it operates. Now, since nature is an infinitely delicate complex of the most different spheres, it is exceedingly difficult to recognize and correctly define a law of nature as conditioned by its sphere. How different, for instance, the law of nature relative to propagation in the class of mammals and in that of reptiles! How very differently does the law of gravitation act in the region of the double stars and in the region of the earth! But as the law is conditioned in its outward appearance by its sphere, by its relation to space, so also it is conditioned by the course of time to which it belongs by its æon. Therefore, in reality, it is always conditioned by the spirit and mind of the Lawgiver. Consequently we cannot fail to perceive that the laws of nature are conditioned by the omnipotent Spirit of the Creator. The Creator is the Interpreter of the law of nature. But surely it cannot be denied that the Creator has spoken by the laws of nature, and He cannot contradict Himself. With this remark, the opponents of miracle think they have said something that should settle the question. Certainly there can be nothing more conformable to law than the course of nature, since the eternal clearness and consistency of the divine will are expressed in it, since it is an expression of the Spirit, and not the Spirit itself. The life of nature is in fact its conformity to law. If it were not conformable to law, not faithful to its regulations, not inexorably decided in its course, it could not continue in existence, it could not present the sublime counterpart of the Spirit. Its conformity to law is the mirror of the divine freedom. But the Spirit of God would have for ever bound Himself, and been excluded from His own creation, if He had not from the first conditioned its conformity to law with infinite nicety. He Himself would not be God if nature were absolute in its laws-if it were God. Nature too would be shifted from her own proper ground if that great miracle, the act of creation, which bears her phenomena so conformable to law, could not break forth in her midst, and manifest the peculiar nature of her being in a miraculous efflorescence. Nature may be contemplated in a twofold sequence: its phenomena may be traced from above downwards, or from below upwards. If we take the first path, we shall continually advance from the regions of more indefinite laws, of fluctuating freedom-like life, into the regions of rigid conformity to law, since we shall be penetrating further into the region of the primal and most general features of nature. The migrating bird may be on some occasions deceived by its instinct; but the lightning is thoroughly certain of its path, and belongs proportionably to a much power region of life. But the further we advance into these low tracts of the most rigid conformity to law, the wider also do the circles of law extend, or so much the more do they bind themselves to fixed conditions, or conceal themselves in the delicate exuberance of variable life. Fire, for instance, is inexorable in its conformity to law; for that reason it generally lies imprisoned in steel and stone. But no sooner do we follow the proper tendency of life in nature, and turn to it from below upwards, than it assumes a quite different form. It appears to us indeed as one of its fundamental laws, that in all its conformity to law it still continues to be nature (Natura), that it is always bringing forth, raising, and potentiating itself;1 and thus from stage to stage it elevates its own laws, forms, and phenomena, and converts them into new ones, and struggles towards glorification in the spirit. It is therefore clear that nature in this direction has throughout a supernatural tendency. She meets on her proud way, as a wonder-worker striving upwards, the wonder-struck theologian, who is as far from free as herself, and performs a miracle entirely the reverse; for he sets aside the laws of the spiritual sphere to seal up the laws of nature by his own gross assumption, since he would make nature the consecrated vehicle of the spirit naturalistic. But nature is also conformable to law, and incessant in the boldness with which he hastens towards the free spirit; she persists in her wonder-working direction. This rests on the simple law, that every power according to its kind can work itself out in nature; that therefore a higher power can break through the sphere of a lower power, set aside its laws, consume its material, and transform life in it. Thus, for example, the lion rushes as a supernatural principle on the gazelle. It appears, mayhap, an event contrary to nature that so delicate a form of nature should be destroyed and annihilated in its noble conformity to law, whenever the right of this higher power, the lion, is lost sight of. The lion devours the gazelle, but in his deed, in his blood and life, the unnatural act becomes a new nature. Had the believers in miracles not allowed themselves to be so prejudiced against nature by the appeal made against them to the laws of nature, they must have found the idea of miracle and its future as plainly indicated in nature as the idea and future of man. A grain of corn contains a visible and distinct likeness of a miracle. The grain of corn, in its innermost being, in its germinant power, is a principle of life. This principle of life is brought into operation through nature. But no sooner does it begin to germinate, than it operates as a supernatural power in relation to the substance of the grain of corn. This its supernatural property begins gradually to operate against nature; it destroys and consumes the natural material which surrounds it, but it removes this old nature-life in order to exhibit it made young again in a new life. Here all the elements of the idea of miracle are present in a symbolic form. Miracle is indeed the well adjusted irruption of a spiritual life-principle into a subordinate life-sphere, an irruption which in its issuing forth as a principle appears supernatural, in its decidedness of action is antinatural, and in its final issue completes itself in natural development. The image of miracle borrowed from the grain of corn is in one respect imperfect: the seed moves in the circle of a sphere which always remains the same, though at the same time gently rising, while the idea of miracles can be made quite clear only by a succession of life-spheres. We must have heard the spiritual music of the life-spheres, if we would speak of the idea of law, of freedom, and of miracle; for all these ideas are referable to spherical relations. But as in the religious department, it is said of the righteous man that for him there is no law; so in the general department of life, the same may be said of the higher life-principles in relation to the lower life-spheres. So the first crystallization is a miracle, since it very decidedly conditions, or in a conditional manner dispenses with, the law of gravitation, which in a lower element-sphere, that of water, prevails unconditioned. The form or law of unconditioned gravity is the globular; but crystallization makes sport of this first iron rule of gravitation in a thousand ways, when it forms its delicately constructed mathematical figures. The first plant was a miracle which decidedly changed the world in which it grew. And so it has been correctly said of the animal, that it is a miracle for the vegetable world. Lastly, in Man the whole of subordinate nature is raised and changed into a specifically higher life-form. He himself, therefore, in this relation to the nature that is subordinate to him, is an eternally speaking image of miracle. In him nature has attained her final aim; she has come in contact with spirit, and in her movements is elevated, consumed, and transformed by his free moral life in conformity with her original destiny. But now the question arises, whether we have reached the top of the scale of life, when we have reached man simply, man who is of the earth. If there is within humanity only one life-sphere, only one elaboration of one life-principle, there may indeed be always phenomena resembling the miraculous which depend on the difference of powers; but this does not establish the existence of such a region of miracles as the Theocracy and especially Christianity delineates, since the deciding new principle is wanting which must form and support it. But if there is really a succession of stages within humanity-if here again a sphere of specifically higher human life towers above the lower sphere, we must here also expect what meets our eye on all the other stages of life, namely, that the new superior principle breaks through the old sphere with wonderful effect, in order to draw it up into its higher life. But Christianity announces this new higher life-stage not only as doctrine, but as fact, and in the idea it finds the completest confirmation of its own. The special characteristic of the first human life in its historical appearance, as it was modified by the fall, was the Adamic discord between the spirit and the flesh, and the predominance of the latter over the former. The special characteristic of the second human life in its historical power, that is, in Christ, is the identity of the spirit and the flesh, and the glorification of the flesh under the supremacy of the spirit. The human spirit itself requires this manifestation of the ideal human life in a distinct and decided principle (Princip.) But it also requires the actings of this principle-its breaking through the sphere of the first human life, therefore its miracles. In these facts must the new life-principle verify itself as the creative organizing power of a new higher world. When persons are accustomed to regard nature as only one sphere, and to allow the world of men to coincide with this one circle of nature, it excites the conception of a boundless Mongolian steppe, in which nothing more extraordinary can occur than the ever appearing and ever vanishing of the same sights and the same faces. But the more familiar we become with the succession of spheres in nature, and with the heavenly ladder of the æons in the history of the world, the more we shall find in the great central miracle-the life of Christ-the necessity established of the several miracles which form its historical periphery. And the more we can estimate the contrast between the heavenly spiritual glory of the life of Christ, and the shattered, old human world, in all its magnitude, the more we shall expect these miracles of Christ to stand forth in bold relief. Thus, then, the doctrine of the miracles of Christ is most intimately connected with the doctrine of His Person.1 Where the former appears mutilated, we may justly infer a mutilation of the latter, and the reverse. The truth of this assertion may be proved from the fact, that the various discrepancies in the doctrine of miracles can very easily be traced back to corresponding discrepancies in the doctrine of the person of Christ. Whoever decidedly rejects the uniqueness of the person of Christ, will not be able to recognize the uniqueness of His works. The difficulty which ‘modern culture’ has with the miracles of Jesus, is connected with a decline in the knowledge of the Son of the Virgin. When the root of the life of Christ is no longer estimated in its wonderful singularity, how can the golden fruit of miracles be sought for on the top of the tree? In fact every one-sidedness in Christology is reflected by a one-sidedness in the theory of miracles. The older orthodox doctrine of Christ did not at all times estimate the full value of His humanity. It often represented His becoming a man as a humiliation, and at the same time lost sight of the individuality of His being. Christ’s humanity often appeared as an organic form, or the more concrete human approach to His divinity. One consequence of this view was, that the miracles were regarded simply as works of divine Omnipotence. On this supposition faith in miracles was, in appearance, infinitely easy. The explanation was always at hand-Christ can do all things because He is God. But not to say that with this view the presence of God in nature was regarded as the sway of an absolute will within the circle of the most exact conformity to law, it was at the same time forgotten that Christ as the Son was aware that His own agency was throughout conditioned by that of the Father (John 5:19); moreover, that He communicated to His own disciples the power of working miracles. According to this view, Christ was not perfectly incorporated with humanity; and the same might be affirmed of His miracles, which would thus form only a conservatory of the choicest plants, transplanted from heaven, and delighting us as images of heaven, but never naturalized on earth. They would only attest the one thought that God is omnipotent, and willing to aid us with His omnipotence. While a one-sided supranaturalism, therefore, makes an exotic conservatory of the miracles of Jesus, the rationalist doctrine of Christ metamorphoses them into a bramble-bush. When Jesus is regarded simply as the son of Joseph, who, at the most, manifested the power of God in a peculiar manner, and fulfilled a mission from God, such a personality is not strong enough to concentrate the miracles of the Gospel history into an overpowering unity, and to make them proceed from Himself as the natural manifestations of the power of His wonderful life. But there they stand; and they must spring forth from the soil of the Gospel history as best they can: from the extraordinary power of Christ; from the ordination of Providence; or even from the favour of chance, from the elements of medical science, from magnetism, from popular credulity, from the embellishments of fiction, and lastly, even from the inaccuracies of the New Testament language. It is natural that such a wonderful soil should bear a thicket of miracles into which the rationalist shepherd is unwilling to lead his flock, since he is afraid they should lose their wool in the bushes, and which therefore he passes by himself as best he can. The spiritualist, alarmed and troubled at the sight of this thicket, warns us, with the looks of honest Eckhart, not to lose our way in the dangerous wood, but rather to adopt a logic which sets the outward and the inward, the letter and the spirit, in eternal contrariety. But if there is a distinct recognition of the great miracle, namely, the uniqueness of the life of Christ, His separate miracles assume altogether a different aspect. They then form so many branches of a lofty, vigorous tree, and appear quite simply as manifestations of His nature, as His works. When we look at the height of the tree, and keep in our eye the strength of its trunk, its branches appear to us, not as the ponderous crown of an oak, but rather as the cheerful, graceful summit of a palm-tree; they seem to us as towering, slender, waving branches sporting in the wind. Should not the tree of life of the new æon be able to bear this crown without breaking down, and put forth the flowers which adorn it from its own internal vital power? Let it not be forgotten how high the tree rises towards heaven, how deep and wide its roots spread through the life of all humanity! When a young alpine stream, under the impulse of its great destiny, hastens down into the wide world, it shows signs of the region of its origin; waterfalls and passages forced through rocks testify of the original freshness of its power. But when Christianity rushes down from the heavenly heights of the God-man into the low-lying tracts of a human world, nature-enthralled and sunk in misery, and in its first irruption carries away with it the great stone of the sepulchre, here, as in the alpine scenery, the second miracle is not greater than the first; rather is it purely natural in relation to the first. If the understanding is here disposed to take offence, the question must be asked, whether it regards the separate miracles as too little or too great in relation to the central miracle? Many persons who have seen the falls of the Rhine have said that they found them small in relation to their previous conception. These persons, at all events, ascribe something, though erroneously, to the reality; while there are others who cannot imagine the half, at all events the full reality. Everything here depends on the estimate formed of the power which calls a phenomenon into life. The greater the power is thought to be, the easier is the conception of the appearance found to be; but the more highly the appearance is estimated, the less adequate is the power. We have turned in our contemplation to the power. In the centre of the world’s history, the principle of principles, the light of lights, the life of the living, and therefore also the power of powers, has appeared to us; the one miracle, which causes many miracles to appear as the natural utterances of a new and higher life-power.1 The miracle of the life of Jesus is one with the miracle of the actual vision (Selbstanschauung) of God. Whoever would explain this miracle to us, must be able to give us the assurance that he is of a pure heart, or that he sees God, or that he surveys the whole world in all its manifoldness as an ideal unity. The saint who beholds God, sees, in the very act of beholding, the nature of His essence; to him the opposition of nature and miracle has become clear in their perfected harmony in God Himself. But whoever has not attained to this elevation, must necessarily regard the nature of God predominantly as a miracle, and accordingly must recognize its miraculous operations as the natural expressions of its essence. The same holds good of the works of Christ, in whom the self-revelation of God has appeared to us. Christ is the miraculous in the centre of nature: out of its relation to Him, even nature is miraculous; but in relation to Him, even miracle is natural. The Christian Gospel miracle must always find its ‘natural’ explanation in the miracle of the life of Christ. Christ Himself exhibits the completed mediation between the unconditioned omnipotence of God and finite conditioned nature-therefore the mediation of miracles. The possibility of miracles is correctly proved in a twofold way: either by an appeal to the divine omnipotence, or to the idea of an accelerated natural process. On the one hand, it is argued, With God nothing is impossible; on the other, God changes every year water into wine, only by a slower process than at Cana. When, therefore, miracle is described as an act of God’s omnipotence, we have named its deepest ground, its possibility; but its actual occurrence is not thereby explained. It is not even explained by representing that the will of the performer of the miracle has become one with the will of God. For our will may become one with the will of God even in the most profound resignation. But in the performance of a miracle, not only does man become one with God in the depths of the divine will in general, but God also becomes one with man in the special act in which man performs the miraculous with supernatural power derived from God. When, therefore, we are confronted by Omnipotence, by the will of the Almighty, and consequently are deeply moved by the infinite great probability of the miracle, the question still returns, Will God perform a miracle which positively encroaches on miraculous nature? On the other hand, a miracle can as little be regarded as a mere extraordinary operation of the performer upon nature, when we speak of an acceleration of nature. There can be no question, indeed, that as, on the one hand, a miracle is rooted in the omnipotence of God, so, on the other hand, it celebrates its appearance in the accelerated process of nature. If therefore we turn to this conception of the accelerated process of nature, we certainly find that nature in its processes performs pure miracles-that it changes water into wine, wine into blood, blood into milk; and this fact shows us how plainly the miracles of the kingdom of God are reflected in similar national phenomena. These thousandfold similarities give us, therefore, again a lively impression of the near possibility of miracles. We think that such a process of nature needs only to be in some degree accelerated, and a miracle will be the result.1 But if it should come to this phenomenon of an accelerated process of nature, we must have at any rate the principle of the process, its germ. All processes of nature arise from principles, which in their ultimate grounds must be regarded as the thoughts and operations of God. If now every common process of nature presupposes a principle, much more must such a one exist for an accelerated process: for a miracle of healing, a decisive healing power; for the change of water into wine, the factor of the formation of wine, ‘the vine with its branches.’2 Accordingly the idea of an accelerated process of nature, strictly considered, exhibits only the course of a miracle when it is already decided in principle, just as the appeal to the omnipotence of God exhibits only the general power of the miracle, without deciding that the miracle shall actually take place. We are now, therefore, placed between two possibilities of miracle, and yet not justified in exhibiting these combined as giving us the actual occurrence of the miracle. Between these possibilities, rather, the question still arises respecting the living centre which exhibits the miraculous power of God in the actual miraculous fact, so that it can pass imperceptibly into the accelerated processes of nature. This centre we found in the life of Jesus. The miraculous reality of His life must, in accordance with its nature, express itself in miraculous operations. In Him the mediation between God and nature has appeared complete and effulgent; therefore He exhibits omnipotence operating in the midst of nature without violating nature in its essence, and exhibits what is conformable to nature in the divine life, without obscuring the divine freedom.3 This indissoluble union between the miraculous One and His miracles must be verified in a twofold way: first, because we see in Christ, as well as in His wonder-working, all the elements that make up the conception of a miracle realized in the most powerful form; and also, because in all His miraculous works we plainly find again the christological characteristic, their relation to the life of Christ. Miracle has above appeared to us as the decided irruption of a mediated (vermittelten) principle of a higher life-sphere into the old form of a lower one, with the tendency to take up this lower sphere into the higher. Now, if we fix our eye on Christ as a principle, He appears to us in this relation as the kingly principle of all universal principles. Every subordinate principle is, no doubt, an original power, a product of God’s creative operation, a marvellous witness of God’s nearness; but Christ as a principle is one with God’s manifestation in the world, with His highest operation, the principle of the creation of a new world. But this principle is in the highest degree conformable to nature, for it is mediated with infinite abundance. Every lesser principle is mediated by some corresponding course of nature; but the life of Christ is mediated by the whole antecedent course of the world. This mediated method of Christ is His nature. Therefore, since the nature of Christ was more mediated or prepared for than any other being, we can discover in His life the genuine stamp of all naturalness, the highest fulfilling of all nature-life. But by nature, according to its power and destiny, is simply the glory or the power of the divine Spirit over all nature-life. His life is therefore so far supernatural in its essence and its operations. It is essentially His destiny to operate supernaturally or metaphysically, to free the creature from vanity, to transform its life of bondage by the life of the Spirit. For this reason, in that antinaturalness by which the higher nature takes up the lower nature, He breaks through the limits of the old course of nature and the world, first of all with the miracle of His peculiar birth, and afterwards by the copious operations of His redeeming power. His life puts to death the life or the nature of the old Adam throughout the world, and especially in this sense are His operations antinatural. These operations have seized human and earthly life in its depths, and in these depths are working out a great regeneration, which is to break forth resplendent from the ashes of the old world. It was in the nature of the case for these operations to disclose themselves in direct, immediate forms; in signs symbolical of Christ’s general agency; in miracles which appeared anti-natural to men, in proportion as the old form of the world was held to be the only normal one, and of eternal validity. But as the life of Christ, notwithstanding its spirituality, or rather in this very spirituality, appears as a perfected, beautiful new nature, so it is also with His miraculous operations. They all issue and complete themselves in quick natural processes, the results of which appear in new, delightful forms of life. Thus His breaking through the old world, by which He advances to the last judgment and the end of the world, will have for its consequences a new world. All these constituents of the conception of miracle must be more or less prominent in the single miraculous works of Christ. First of all, the constituent of mediation. The need of a miracle is a constituent corresponding to the principle for performing miracles, and is the occasion when Christ receives an intimation from the Father to work in unity with Him creatively, that is, to perform a miracle. Indeed, the constituent for effecting the great saving miracle of the world’s salvation is ever present to the Lord. But the occasions for allowing the fruits of this redemption to make their appearance in special operations, and for the signs of the transforming power of this redemption, the omens of the future glorification of the world, to shine forth, are more rare (Luke 4:25-27; John 11:4). There are single moments in which a definite form of the world’s misery and the world’s Redeemer in His historical pilgrimage meet, we might say, one another on so narrow a bridge, and so exactly face to face, that they must fight with one another, or rather the misery must collapse and vanish before the Redeemer. These constituent elements are therefore mediated equally with the life itself. The most general mediating is the faith of those who need relief. This faith is the peculiar organ of susceptibility for the miraculous power of Christ-the divine token, in fact, by which the occasion of working a miracle is indicated to Him. But if any one is disposed to make this susceptibility the special factor of the relief granted, and thus to account for the miracle by the faith of miracles, in such a case he would ascribe to the sufferer a greater faith and a greater power than to Christ Himself. But faith as such is generally no more than a susceptibility, which is distinguished from fanaticism by its knowing with certainty that it is met by a positive operation of God. If, therefore, it is altogether erroneous to make faith in its isolated position a worker of miracles without the co-operating power of God, it is also perfectly monstrous to pretend that there are believers who beget this miraculous help out of themselves, when they stand supplicating before the Lord, when He answers their confidence, and receives thanks for the help given. Even Christ Himself worked not in an isolated position, though He had within Himself a positive miraculous power, but in conjunction with the Father (John 10:41) directing a look of confidence towards Him. But this mediating of miracles appears to us to vanish when we look at the miracles of Christ performed at a distance; likewise in His healing of demoniacs; but, lastly and chiefly, in His miraculous operations on nature. But even here we see traces of mediation gradually emerging from the darkness, as we direct our eye to the inner relations of the world, and estimate them higher than is commonly done in relation to the outward phenomena. When Christ healed the possessed child of the Canaanitish woman, the channel through which the operation reached the child is plainly traceable: it was one of the disposition, sunk deep in the heart of the supplicating mother. Her agitated soul with one hand laid hold of the Lord, and with the other of her child, and thus formed a living affinity-an electrical conductor by which the lightning of healing flashed from the heart of Christ into the heart of her child. In the world of clairvoyance delicate streams of fire and tracks of light have been seen, which were formed between separated human souls, so that they thought of one another vividly, and have been occupied with one another: these are spiritual bridges which love, anxiety, remembrance, and especially intercessory prayer, have thrown across spaces of outward separation, and traverse. These communications correspond entirely with a delicate estimate of the dynamical relations of the world. But not to insist on these, we cannot, at all events, doubt of the living movement of the mightiest powers between hearts which stand in the most intimate and vital relation to one another. But this movement suffices us as a spiritual pathway for the healing powers of the Lord when they have to act at a distance. Thus the nobleman at Capernaum became a conductor of Christ’s healing power for his son; and the Gentile centurion, with his strong faith, was a mediating organ for his servant. But when our Lord had to deal with demoniacs, this mediation lay in a power which, in diseased persons of this class, is generally active with a morbid development, and a more intense energy-a power of psychical foreboding. Of the nature of demoniacal suffering we do not here speak. But it is a fact which occurs among the nervous and insane of our own time, as well as in the case of the demoniacs in the Gospel history, that in their intensified power of foreboding, they are capable of divining the dispositions and intentions which the persons immediately about them entertain. They are in a morbid state of psychical agitation, and in a closer affinity than healthy persons to the psychical movements of the bystanders. Especially nave they an extraordinary sensitiveness for states of mind which are in contrast to their own. As clairvoyantes can be disturbed by the nearness of impure characters, so demoniacs and insane persons often become excited by the approach of saintly characters. They feel the operation of a power which even at a distance comes into collision with their state, and presses punitively on the secret consciousness of the psychical terror with which commonly their state of mental bondage is connected. Thus the demoniac whom Jesus met with in the synagogue at Capernaum could not endure His presence (Mark 1:23), but cried out against Him. That the demoniacs were the first who proclaimed Him as the Messiah, may be accounted for from the activity and perceptive vigour of their intensified power of foreboding; not simply because this power of foreboding brought them into a peculiar relation with the consciousness of Christ, but because it also formed the same relation between them and the secret thoughts of their times. That Jesus was the Messiah, was the public secret of His time, from the beginning of His ministry. John’s annunciation of Him had already taken place; His disciples indulged distinct hopes of the manifestation of His Messianic glory, and the people were agitated by the fluctuations of foreboding that He was the promised One. But the dark antipathy of the hierarchy hung like a threatening thunder-cloud over against this dawn in men’s minds. No one ventured to commit himself by the public and decided recognition of Christ. The insane naturally took the lead; they proclaimed aloud the obscure mystery which they found in the breasts of their contemporaries. Fools and children speak the truth; so here the acclamations of the children soon followed the cries of the demoniacs. In addition to them, Christ was proclaimed by poor mendicants, who had nothing to lose; and by the people in a mass, who in masses always feel strongly. When, therefore, the demoniacs had an excited feeling and foreboding of the dignity of Christ,-when by their recklessness they anticipated the people in the publication of His name, a mediation was thus formed for the miraculous aid of Christ. As borderers on the kingdom of spirits they were raised above the ban of the Sanhedrim by the peculiar sacredness of their calamitous state; and as confessors of Jesus, they were peculiarly the objects of His compassion. But no such mediation of the miracles of Christ appears at first sight to be given in the case of the dead whom He restored to life; yet, on carefully considering the circumstances, we shall find that there is a mediation, or rather a double one. The three dead persons whom Christ restored, even when dead were held by strong bonds in the vicinity of life;-the daughter of Jairus, by the loud mourning of the parental house; the young man at Nain, by the inconsolable grief of his mother; and lastly, Lazarus, not merely by the ceaseless yearning with which his sisters waited for the Lord, but also by the unsatisfied expectation with which he himself had sunk into the grave. Even though dead, therefore, these three still experienced the strong attraction towards life on this side the grave. But as spirits, they understood the voice of the Prince of spirits. The modes of mediating the miracles of Christ in His operations on external nature are hardest to discover. Here also the connecting links have been lost for the most part, because sufficient account has not been taken of the co-operation of hearts. This applies especially to the miracles of food and drink which Jesus wrought. How very much has it been the practice to pass over, in these miracles, the mental states of the persons for whom they were wrought! In many a dissertation on the miracle at Cana, the exclamation, ‘They have no wine! no wine!’ meets us at every turn; and some theological treatises upon it handle the whole question after so grossly material a fashion, so utterly without a surmise of the significance of the spiritual transaction in this history, that one would think they were composed in a tavern, or meant to lay the scene of the narrative in a public-house! But how could these miracles have a New Testament power and significance, if they were not performed in the element of emotional life (Gemthsleben) and of the sphere of faith? We do not intend to enlarge on this remark here, but reserve the development for the sequel. In the stilling of the storm on the lake of Gennesaret, the mediating consisted in this, that first of all the hearts of the disciples, as the firstlings of the new humanity, were laid at rest before the winds and waves were stilled. The cursing of the fig-tree was mediated by that presentiment of the judgment awaiting Jerusalem and the end of the world, which so deeply moved Christ in His last days. It will be understood that the supernatural, which is operative in all Christ’s miracles, must be always and immediately looked for in His divine life-power. This life-power, in the case where Christ performed a miracle, is identical with the omnipotence of God; for He performed such an act only according to the will of the Father, and in unity with Him. It was the overpowering agency of the sovereign principle which was placed in the centre of the world, in order to destroy its corruption and effect its glorification. But the expressions of the power of Christ, as they differ in different miracles, so also the forms they assume are different. To the leprous Christ presented Himself as positive purity, the absolute power of all purification; to the deaf as the ear-forming word; and, to the dead, as the positive life-giving life. And as Christ in such agency becomes one with the Father, so is the disposition in which He accomplishes His miracle one with Him. His word is the fructifying principle with which the receptive faith takes in the victorious life-power which is destined to effect the miracle in its own life-circle. The believers in miraculous power therefore received, in the moment of the performance of the miracle, by a sympathetic elevation of their disposition, a share in the noble-mindedness of Christ, and in this moment of their highest nearness to heaven the miracle became incorporated with their life. But in all cases an old naturalness, either a dark form or a fettering limitation, or an evil of the old world which has become nature, is broken through and taken away by the miraculous agency of Christ. At one time, it is the roaring storm; at another time, it is water in the colourless form which it takes as a defect in contrast with the wine; and at a third time, it is the grave. This character of destruction is most prominent in the cursing of the fig-tree. But, lastly, we also see that all the miracles of Jesus bear the impress of true miracle, because they enter nature with creative, liberating, formative power, and complete themselves as natural processes. The men whom Christ heals or restores to life come forward again, as forms restored to this world, in all their native freshness. To the daughter of Jairus food is given to eat (Mark 5:43). Lazarus soon after his resurrection is found among the guests at a feast. Our Lord causes this subsidence of miracle into natural life to appear even in effecting His own miracles. The blind man whom Christ cured at Bethsaida (Mark 8:22), after Christ’s first operation, exclaimed, ‘I see men as trees walking!’ Visible objects still appear before his eyes in indistinct outline, nor did he perfectly recover his sight till Christ had touched his eyes a second time. The Lord seems carefully to have given prominence to this natural side of the cures He effected, and to have drawn, so to speak, a veil round the strictly miraculous operation by availing Himself more or less of natural operations. Even the word by which He usually effected His work, is not in itself alone to be regarded as a mere unsensuous expression of the spirit. As in its meaning it is a divine thought, so outwardly it is a thunderbolt of the soul’s life-a powerful psychical act, inflaming the hearts and agitating the organs of the susceptible. Such a word of Christ is, in miniature, an image of the creative universal agency of God by which He created the world-that infinite expression of God, which inwardly was altogether His sun-bright thought and will, and outwardly a mysterious, darkly brooding, immeasurably rich fulness of life-that creative basis of the world which now appeared in Him in individual personality. But the nature-side of His miraculous agency was more striking when He touched the sufferers or laid hold of them by the hand. Such contact must have been, in the case of the leprous especially, a revolting operation (Matthew 8:3). With such an one Christ placed Himself in the relation of defilement. He exposed Himself thereby to the danger, according to the Levitical law, of being excluded from the congregation as an unclean person; He even hazarded His life for the sake of curing the leprous when He touched them. This moral operation itself, in its living power to touch the soul, was for the diseased like a flash of lightning from heaven. But it is remarkable, that Jesus never went beyond touching. Though, according to the account in Mark’s Gospel (Mark 6:13), the disciples of Jesus often anointed the sick with oil, and thus restored them to health, yet we are not warranted by this circumstance to conclude that Jesus Himself used such means. The disciples, with their weaker miraculous power, appear to have depended on a more natural act of healing; as, according to the direction of James, the elders of the Church were obliged to do at a later period. In fact, besides touching, imposition of the hands, or laying hold of the hand of the diseased, in which the complete miraculous power of His holy hand was manifested, Christ only employed one physical means repeatedly, one distinctly individual, a natural bodily means-His spittle. The ancients attribute to the saliva a sure healing power, especially for many disorders of the eyes; an opinion which is still held in our own times.1 But Christ appears to make this means the vehicle of a higher power. If the personality of Christ is regarded according to its peculiar significance as the life-giving life, as positive healthfulness, we may venture to expect that every bodily substance or quality which has proved itself elsewhere in any degree curative, will be found again in His life in the highest potency, and, as an expression of that life, will exhibit the highest healing efficiency. But Jesus applied the same means in different ways. He healed (according to Mark 7:33) a deaf and dumb man by putting His fingers in his ears, and then, after spitting on His finger, touching his tongue.2 In the case of the blind man at Bethsaida, the spittle seems to have been directly applied to the eyes of the blind, and followed by the imposition of hands (Mark 8:22). When He cured the man born blind at Jerusalem (John 9:1-41), He spat on the ground and made a paste, with which He anointed the eyes of the blind, and ordered him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam. We have here again an advanced application of the spittle: the paste which He spread on the eyes of the blind, as something more than a momentary application, and the time spent in going to the pool at Siloam, during which it remained, constituted this advanced use of it. The washing in the pool of Siloam, which the afflicted man had to perform, seems to have been only a symbolical act in which, with his faith, his cure was to be completed. At all events, it was otherwise with the spittle. The repetition of its application plainly shows that it was used as a means; and although its application does not do away with the miraculous character of the cures in which Jesus made use of it, yet it shows how He was inclined to conceal, in a degree, His miraculous acts,-to soften the sublime abruptness of their direct operation by a connection with some form, more or less known, of the extraordinary art of healing.3 It was a little thing, an act of condescension, for Him to perform these single miracles; while the people were astonished at them as the highest expressions of His life. This induced Him to make His healing operations approach a natural form, and to clothe them in poor, flat, and strange forms, in order to bring the exalted power that revealed itself in Him into communication with the life of the world. Yet He could not have given His miracles this form, if He had found in it no healing power whatever. For this very reason, this form of Christ’s miraculous cures, the application of His spittle, was peculiarly suited to make what was miraculous in His opperations appear as natural, and what was natural in His life appear as miraculous.1 This nature-side of His miraculous power meets us most strikingly in the history of the woman suffering from the issue of blood, who was healed by the believing touch of His garment. The Lord had not conversed with her; yet He was aware that He had been touched, and that by this contact a cure had been effected, for He declared that ‘virtue had gone out’ of Him (Luke 8:46). Does not the healing power of Christ here appear almost in a pathological form as a suffering? Offence has been taken at this narrative. And yet it only manifests the most delicate feeling for life in a personality most rich in life. The same Master of psychical life, who had a perfectly developed sense for every sympathy and antipathy that approached Him, could not help perceiving the agitation or hurried respiration of a sufferer who touched Him under the highest excitement of pain, and at the same time of confidence, as one needing aid; and when He blessed in His Spirit the sufferer without knowing her as an individual, the contact and the miraculous aid perfectly coincided. It is not said that He did not freely part with this healing power, that He had been robbed of it; for as soon as the Lord felt Himself touched by a suffering, He freely entered into it with His sympathy.2 But when He wished to cause the woman who had been cured to come forward openly on her own account, He rightly declared that virtue had gone out of Him. It was needful to make the matter public: hitherto the cure had been as it were a stolen one, and the woman remained at least suffering from false shame. At all events, Christ’s language informs us that the virtue which proceeded from Him, was to be regarded as a virtue connected with the nature of His life. Hence by this passage we are led to consider a question which in modern times has been often agitated, namely, How far the miraculous cures performed by Christ are akin to the cures effected by animal magnetism. Some have attached great importance to this affinity; others have been apprehensive lest by this similarity the agency of Jesus should be brought too near the profane; others, again, have admitted a greater or less analogy between the two methods of healing. Thus much is certain: if in general the power of magnetism belongs to the flesh and blood of human nature, then Christ also has appropriated this power. But if, on the other hand, all flesh and blood has attained in Christ’s person its complete spiritualization, this also is true especially of magnetism, and of the application of its power. If we have first learned to estimate the ascending lines of powers (over against the descending line of ideas) in the world, and found that these same powers reappear in all the stages of life, but in ever new transformations and higher potencies, then also the relation of Christ’s healing power to magnetism must gradually be made clear. The very term Animal Magnetism expresses that gradation; it marks especially the power of the magnet, as it re-appears in a more elevated form in the animal kingdom. If we follow the hint which lies in these terms, we shall be led to the contemplation of a scale of magnetic power, of which the lowest degree lies deep in the elements, and the highest must be revealed in the power of Christ’s nature. The light of the atmosphere seems to reappear in the earthly elements as electricity. Electricity is no doubt an elevated power in the magnet. Then magnetism comes forward in the animal sphere as a power working soul-like, of which the operations border on magic. Now, when this power appears elevated again in the human region as a peculiar talent in the life of certain individuals, this is no longer mere animal magnetism, but is exalted into the human. But this power experiences a new consecration in the free spiritual activity of a devout worker of miracles, or of a prophet who acts under a sense of the eternal. Lastly, if it comes again to view in Christ, it must appear in His life according to its nature, not only with the greatest fulness, but in perfect unity with the operations of the Divine Spirit. It also appears here altogether as nature, but as completely ideal, as a pure agency, as a perfect vehicle of the Spirit. Thus, then, in Christ the powers of all the stages of nature are elevated and glorified. He is not only in a metaphorical, but also in a dynamic sense, the light of the world; the lightning which hereafter at His appearing will shine from the east even to the west; the unity of those four divergent forms of life or animal images which symbolically represent the great model-forms of life; the Man in whom humanity is concentrated, and therefore in whom every human endowment appears in its fairest bloom; the prophet who stands and acts in the fulness of the powers of God; finally, He Himself, the God-man, who performs a miracle as little as any other man when God has not indicated it, but also then with the complete certainty with which God Himself works it. Thus, then, the healing power with which Christ accomplishes His work is a power related to, and brought into combination with, the innermost life of nature in all its stages, and therefore verifies itself in its operations as the healing power of the diseased human world; and its product is a new nature. Thus, as on the one hand the genuine miracle is to be recognized in all the works of Christ as well as in His life, so on the other hand the christological stamp is found in all His miracles, and again especially in the miraculous momenta of His life itself. The miraculous momenta in the life of Jesus present themselves as a pure linked succession of stages in the unfolding of His christological glory. In His wonderful birth of the Virgin, first of all, life existed as a positive life-power, as pure power; that is to say, an individuality which in its flesh and blood exhibits the completed harmony with the universe, which is born of the Spirit and is one with the Spirit, and, as the power of the Spirit, has power over life. His self-comprehension in human development begins this life of power, and reaches at length the climax of perfect spirit-consciousness with the baptism in the Jordan. Here His individual unfolding in spirit was completed. But, after that, the capability of this life unfolds itself in the soul-life of Christ, and the bloom of this festivity of the soul bursts forth at the transfiguration. Lastly, by the fact of the resurrection the corporeity of Christ was borne aloft out of the region of the old nature and the realm of death into the imperishable; the body was borne aloft in the power of the Spirit, and made thoroughly spiritual and spirit-like, while its life-power and vitality is not only maintained, but perfected in its spiritualization. The ascension is, in the first place, not so much a new miracle as the full verification of the miracle of the resurrection, the highest evidence of glorification or of completed spiritualization to which the life of Christ has been elevated. It becomes a new miracle as it introduces and represents the session of Christ at the right hand of God. But this again manifests itself in three momenta, which run parallel with the momenta of the individual glorification of Christ while they exhibit His universal glory. With the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, Christ gains a universal consciousness in His Church. This universal power of the Spirit over the earth will one day bring its constantly regenerating operation in the souls of men into festive manifestation, when the Church of Christ attains to the full spiritual beauty of His kingdom. After that, His individual resurrection will unfold itself finally in the glorification of the world which ensues on the world’s judgment at the general resurrection. The first moment (moment) of this universal unfolding of the glory of Christ, consists, therefore, in the revelation of His dominion over the spiritual life of humanity; in the second appears His dominion over the souls of men, the completion of the victory of Christ’s sympathy over the sympathy of evil, which is evinced in a great Christian inspiration of humanity; the third moment reveals His power over all flesh. It is undeniable that all the momenta of miracles in which the life of Christ is unfolded are throughout christological; that is, they perfectly correspond to the conception of the life of Christ and its significance for the world.1 When, therefore, we have represented the miraculous acts of Christ as the natural emanations of His miraculous nature, it is evident that they must disclose the same christological nature. And so we find it. In fact, they generally present the most distinct correspondences to the separate christological stages in the development of Christ’s life. It is our business to point out these correspondences, and to render as conspicuous as possible the general ideas which lie at the basis of the miracles of Jesus. If now, with this view, we refer the different kinds of Christ’s miracles to the different stages of His life’s development, it cannot be supposed that Christ performed a peculiar class of miracles only in a particular form of the development of His power; rather it is implied that in every miracle the whole life of Christ was active when we designate them all generally as christological. But the matter in question here is, that we contemplate the general christological nature of the miracles of Jesus in the sharp distinctness of their type, and that we therefore contemplate them as phenomena belonging to the progressive development of His life and work. It is a radical evil of the old æon, that nature has circumvented the spirit of man through his guilt, has gained the upper hand, and stands over him like a menacing giant. According to the ideal relations of the world, it ought to be otherwise. In a life of innocence, the spirit would prove its harmony with nature and its power over it. Instinct, like a prophet, announces this mastery of the spirit over nature, as it appears with a beautiful living constancy in animal life. But for along time fallen man appears to give the lie to these prophecies. The dog falls into the water and swims; but a man falls in and is drowned. But he is drowned, not by his bodily weight, not by the natural relation of his body to the water, but by the consternation which misleads him to sink into destruction by a morbid excitement, instead of balancing himself on the waves in victorious self-possession. When, therefore, Christ walks on the stormy sea, the quintessence of the miracle consists in the perfect divine equanimity of His spirit. He is, first of all, quite free from that corrupt act of swimming practised by the natural man. But His pure vital courage in the water is connected with the vital feeling of His organism, which is the crown of all human organisms. The relation of bodies to the water is infinitely various. There are some swimmers that sink deep, and others that hold themselves high. The Prince by birth of land and sea walks through the waves with His whole figure erect above them. But when man once comes into harmonious reciprocal action with an excited element, his movement in it becomes rhythmical. And so a jubilant feeling must have unfolded itself in Christ’s heart on the exulting waters; and with this feeling those hidden powers of life must have been disengaged and become active, which also are said to appear in the life of the magnetically excited, so that such persons cannot sink in water, but are borne up by it.1 But Christ’s walking on the water, in the co-working of this perfect consciousness of God and His imperturbable repose-of this elevation of soul in the feeling of harmony with the agitated element-and of this rhythmically borne and noblest corporeity,-exhibits the unity of the new human life in the spirit as it attains dominion over nature. In this miracle the Man of the spirit, in His world-historical importance, is borne out of the water of nature-life. It is a symbolical fact which has gained a natural position in an extraordinary rich history of New Testament operations. The more man regains the full consciousness of the sovereignty of his spirit over nature, the more he regains power over the natural feelings of his life,-the more does the dread of nature vanish from his path, and he resumes the full dominion over its forces. But this discrepancy with nature into which man has fallen by his guilt is further manifest in distinct evils with which man is afflicted, particularly in his infirmities and sicknesses. These evils are characteristic marks of the deep corruption of the old æon; they are united most intimately with sin. It would indeed be hyper-Jewish if we were disposed to lay as a burden on the individual, his peculiar infirmity as his desert. Such a view can be regarded only as a popular superstition. It is an insult to the spirit of the Hebrew religion to charge it with maintaining it. And if any one would ascribe it to Christ, it would be in opposition to His most explicit declarations.2 Yet, on the other hand, we must also mark it as hyper-heathenish, if the general connection of all sin with all evil, and the general appointment of all evils to be the punishment of all sins, and if, lastly, the spectacle that a thousand times individuals pay for their individual transgressions, should be denied. Only materialism in morals can wish to dissever the bond of connection between sin and punitive evil. Now, among the people of Israel the feeling of this connection was developed in a very high degree, and partially to a morbid excess. They had experienced God’s chastisements under the discipline of the law, and often had bowed under His strokes with slavish dread. The miserable mental state of the unfortunate was aggravated by the harshness with which they were condemned by their more fortunate pharisaically-minded brethren. And at the time of Christ’s advent almost all the fruits on the tree of human misery in Israel appeared to be ripened. The chronic diseases which are indigenous in Palestine, and countries of a similar climate, such as blindness, leprosy, paralysis, and nervous disorders, were very widely spread. Christ found Himself in the fulness of the Spirit placed in the presence of this misery. He met with many sufferers, who were at once in need of salvation and of bodily healing. By means of the latter, the sense of the former was ripened; and, in their desire for salvation, the state of mind was produced which fitted them for receiving bodily relief, that is, faith in the possibility of miraculous aid. In the fulness of the Spirit and of the peace of God lay the power of Christ to forgive the sins of those who felt their need of salvation, and, by the assurance of the grace of God, to animate their hearts with the glow of a new life. With an impulse of that positive confidence in God which He possessed, He could transport, by His consolations, to a heaven of divine joy those souls that felt themselves cast down to the gates of hell. How could Christ have cherished in His spirit this power to forgive sins in an abstract form; that is, only a power over the spirits of men, and not at the same time a power over their souls and bodily organisms? It was in accordance with His concrete victorious power over evil, that when it met Him in individual cases, He steadily regarded it from the root to the summit. But so also would the diseased, who, under Israelitish discipline, were trained to exercise faith in His aid, expect from Him, according to their entire view of the world, concrete aid, both spiritual and bodily.1 According to the prophetic promises, the Israelite expected in his Messiah a Saviour who would work miracles; therefore the Jew who was anxious for salvation could not have received and retained so firmly the consolation of the forgiveness of sins from the lips of Jesus, if it had not been confirmed to him by bodily aid. It is difficult for the penitent sinner to retain absolution in pure spirituality. The Christian finds the seal of his reconciliation in the renewed peace of his society (Sozietät), especially in the sacrament, by which he becomes one with the Church and with the Lord of the Church. The temporary sacrament with which the contrite Israelite received his absolution from the lips of Jesus, was the miracle. Although this connection between the outward and inward healing was not in all cases equally apparent and marked, yet even in those wherein it was faintest it existed in some measure, so that those who needed bodily aid did homage to the Lord as the Messiah; and Weisse has justly remarked, that faith in the forgiveness of sins, and the effect of it, is to be regarded as a prominent feature of the cures performed by Christ. The case of the paralytic at Capernaum (Matthew 9:1) appears to us the most striking example of this agency of Christ. First of all, he received from Christ the assurance of the forgiveness of his sins. But the pharisaical spirits wished to despoil him of this inestimable gift by pronouncing the absolution to be blasphemy; upon which our Lord ratified it with a heavenly sacrament which they could not gainsay, by saying to the sick man, ‘Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house!’ The words of Jesus, therefore, penetrated as a ray of vital power the hearts of those who believed in His miracles, operating with creative energy, and imparting a healthy vitality to every part of the frame. There is a class of diseases which may be regarded as an exhaustion of the fulness and freshness of the organism, namely, hereditary bodily infirmities. Now it lies in the nature of the case, that such infirmities must soonest give way to Christ’s vital ray which penetrates the life-root of the infirm through their organism. The cure of a man born blind may appear more difficult within the range of common experience than the cure of one who has become blind, but in relation to the conception of miracle it may be considered as the easier. The sun with its fresh rays can most easily stimulate the stunted growth of a plant. The solar ray, which somehow was wanting to the bodily stunted in the very beginnings of their life, now darts suddenly into the root of their life, and completes their first birth with the beginning of the second. Also the lame and deformed appear to stand in a nearer relation to the psychico-electrical powerful agency, to the lightning flash of the miraculous word of Jesus.1 Fevers form another kind of suffering.2 Their cure shows how positive repose and heavenly tranquillity can be communicated with healing power to the sick; or how the fiery conflict of fever against evil can be instantaneously rendered victorious by the warm stream of life which proceeds from Christ. The healing of lepers belongs to the most important3 cures effected by Jesus. The leprosy seemed to seize inexorably on the whole living substance of the sufferer, and to have doomed him to death. But this fearful disease, which in general was so fatal, was sometimes capricious. It would strike out on the surface of the body, and pass off in a white eruption on the skin. This natural process of cure corresponded entirely to Christ’s method of cure; His healing operations proceeded from within outwards. The demoniacs of the New Testament history are, on the one hand, classed by the Evangelists with the other sick; but on the other hand, they are distinguished as a peculiar class from the common sick. That first of all they were considered and treated as sick persons, is evident. They appear as such, according to the symptoms of their malady as nervous, epileptic, insane, raving, and the like. Matthew speaks of the sick who were affected with various distempers and plagues, and then divides these into three classes: ‘those possessed with devils, and those which were lunatic, and those that had the palsy’ (Matthew 4:24). But they are distinguished again from the common sick. Mark says, ‘Jesus healed many that were sick of divers diseases, and cast out many devils’ (Mark 1:34). By these distinctions with which, on the one hand, the Evangelists represent the demoniacs as sick, but on the other, as afflicted by a demon, their conception of the mysterious phenomenon goes beyond the opposition between the supernaturalist and the rationalist views. According to the first, it is asserted, these sufferers were possessed by demons, therefore they were not naturally sick. Then on the other side it is said, they were naturally sick, therefore not possessed by demons. The arguing on both sides may be thus represented: One party maintains, the wind blows into the chamber, therefore the window is not open; the other asserts, on the contrary, the window stands open, therefore the wind does not blow into the chamber. Here we must revert to the doctrine we have stated above, of the infinitely delicate operation of ethical powers. As it is applicable to the doctrine of angels and of devils, so also to that of demons. The popular view of the material, plastic lodgment of one demon or more in the body of a possessed person is sensuously coarse; but hardly so much so as the opposite supposition, that a man is afflicted with a natural nervous disorder, and on that account does not lie under demoniacal influences. There are hereditary nervous disorders, mysterious obstructions of the psychical life; strange dissonances and disturbances enter into the course of life which have this common quality, that they more or less affect the freedom of man’s ethical life. If he could be healthy in this want of freedom, he would go back to the pure instinct of animal life. But such a normal human-animal life would be, in its very naturalness, a frightful monstrosity. Sure enough, man without freedom must become in his untuned, irritable nerve-life, more or less a football of ethical influences, as necessarily as an Æolian harp placed in a current of air must receive and return every wandering gust of wind. But the irritability of such a morbid nerve-life, according to the nature of this life, must be simply boundless. Fortunately, under the category of those who were afflicted with divers diseases, the lunatics are found between the possessed and the paralytic. The nature of this complaint may give us the key for the solution of the whole problem respecting the demoniacs. The lunatic is so excitable in his nerve-life, that even the influence of the returning moon irritates him and aggravates his malady. He is, in short, possessed by the moon, inasmuch as he is possessed by its influence. We will not here inquire what power the spirit of the earth (Erdgeist) exerts over the healthy man in his sleep, but so much is a fact of very ancient experience, that the moon exerts an irritating influence on a certain class of nervous sufferers. With this remark the whole question is in fact already decided. If the moon can exert so strong an influence on these morbidly excitable chords, which in the normal man are designed to return the pure impression of all heaven, we must much more expect that they will be exposed to the strongest influences and invasions of psychical moods, powers, and intentions. The sick youth whom the Lord cured at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration was at once epileptic, demoniac, and lunatic; therefore, a person disordered in his nerves, disturbed by the influence of the moon as well as by that of demons. Yet it is a consideration of great weight, that the excitability of these nervous patients was a consequence of a deeply seated discordance, and therefore was a morbid, gloomy excitability. Hence an elective affinity was formed between this susceptibility and the impure influences of impure spirits. The prophets, as the elect of God, were in the highest degree susceptible for the revelations of the world of light; the demoniacs, on the other hand, presented an inverted prophetic order, which attained its disastrous maturity in the days of the deepest degeneracy of the Jewish nation, when their psychical susceptibility for evil influences was complete. And, accordingly, they were pervaded and domineered over by unclean spirits, by the psychically powerful influences of an evil nature-by demons; but, according to their declaration and the popular notion, they were possessed by them. This condition, therefore, has three factors, which must be estimated conjointly: first of all, the natural substratum of possession, the morbid state of the nerves; then the aggregate power of the influences to which the patient is subjected; lastly, and thirdly, his notion of his own sufferings, which was closely connected with the general popular notion of such sufferings. That natural foundation of possession, the morbid state of the nerves in demoniacs, has many forms and stages. We find, for example, one demoniac like a seer proclaiming the Messiah, while another is unable to utter a word. Sometimes this disorder appears as a stupid frenzy, impelling to self-destruction; the demoniac throws himself now into the fire, now into the water: at another time it is a spectral illusion; the demoniac is so excited that he believes himself identified with a legion of evil spirits. But as the irritability was constituted, the influences corresponded to it. The Gadarene might, therefore, be really forced in his irritability to exhibit a thousandfold different operations of evil. These influences, according to their nature, might proceed from spirits of all kinds, as far as they could exercise an overwhelming influence on his psychical life by a powerful psychical influence, by violent approximation, by vigorous attack, by a peculiar affinity between their power and the susceptibility of the sufferer. The demoniac influences might therefore proceed from devilish spirits, from deceased men, or even from living, powerful, and sinister characters; for in this case everything depends on the power and nature of the influences. Further, they might differ in their degree: disturbances, superficial, transitory and constant, weak and strong, distant and near, or in absolute contact. If there are fallen devilish spirits, as we have found to be natural, we are led to expect that the lower class among them busy themselves in producing disturbed phenomena in the region of human misery. If, moreover, earthly and worldly-minded deceased persons strive to return to a life on earth, it is by no means inconceivable that they should seek to put themselves again in connection with the world they have lost through the organisms of those who are not free. The Jews generally recoiled with horror from Sheol. This aversion to the kingdom of the dead was especially rife in the time of Christ, when the chiliast extravagance was at its height. The degeneracy of the times might show itself also in this particularly, that the boundary line between this side the grave and the other had vanished in a most fearful manner, since the living were in part fallen to the kingdom of the shades, while the demons swarmed in unsatisfied craving for life about the hearths of the living, so that a kind of marsh-land was formed between this world and the next, in which the deformed of both regions mingled together. The demons, indeed, in their influence on the sufferers, could traverse from the most remote distance to the closest proximity. But it is difficult to determine to what degree the oppression of the sufferers by the demons might rise. Yet we cannot get rid of all spirits from the other world, without losing the notion of possession. And characters of an evil tendency belonging to this world might operate injuriously on the life of men psychically diseased. But these evils were carried to their height by the popular superstition. The doctrine of possession was completed in the popular dread. The consequence was, that those who personally experienced demoniacal influences soon surrendered themselves with dismay to their power, and then exhibited it plastically with all the energy of a spectre-haunted soul. If insanity is contemplated in its simplest form, it shows here the characteristic that the insane person makes his fixed idea the demon of his consciousness, and speaks out, not from his rational consciousness, but from this demoniacal one. There is no difficulty, therefore, in conceiving that demoniacs in general speak from the consciousness of the spirits that torment them. But from such a phenomenon, it by no means follows that the foreign spirit in them has lodged itself between their own consciousness and their body, and thus as a stranger speaks out of a strange house. Rather, we only see that the demoniac has slavishly surrendered himself to the influence that torments him. As the prophet, in the most elevated, luminous, and free ecstasy, announces the word of the Lord, without distinguishing it from his own-probably not because his own consciousness has vanished, but because it is identical with the Spirit of the Lord, and acts in subserviency to it-so also is it with the demoniac, in his enslaved and gloomy ecstasy. He himself speaks, though he has made over his Ego and his consciousness to the spirits who rule him. His consciousness has identified itself with the demoniacal influence which he has imbibed from them, and exhibits it plastically and imitatively in a constrained visionary mood. Only from this state of things can the dark but powerful feeling of deranged life be explained, as is shown by the violent excitement of the demoniacs in the presence of Christ. If the consciousness of a demon itself had been fully active in the organism of the demoniac of which it had taken possession, such symptoms could not have been exhibited; and as little could they have been shown if the patient had not really had the feeling, as if a strange spirit stood before the Lord. It is very evident from the nature of this condition, that it must be distinguished altogether from those cases in which a man gives himself up to evil in conscious and specific acts of his own inner life. The Gospel history marks the distinction in the most decisive manner, since, as we have seen, it treats the demoniacs as sick persons, and even as irresponsible, which is plainly shown, among many other things, by the representation of their irregularities as acts which the demons performed with them. The early Church also made a marked distinction between reckless sinners and possessed persons: the former they excommunicated, for the latter they employed exorcisms. The mingling of these ethical characters, as it appears in the most offensive excess, when exorcism was connected with baptism, and as it still often occurs in theological treatises on the condition of demoniacs, serves most decidedly to obscure our discernment of the ethical deterioration of man into the devilish as well as of demoniacal possession. Olshausen has felt the existence of the distinction, but has not clearly carried it out (Comment, i. 269, ed. Clark). ‘The condition of demoniacs must always presuppose a certain degree of moral culpability; yet so that the sin committed by them does not take the form of absolute wickedness (that is, a voluntary consent to the infused evil thoughts), but appears more as predominant sensuality (especially unchastity), which was always indulged with a resistance of the better self.’ Nothing can be made of these distinctions. Of the practical offences of the demoniacs we know nothing, and are not in the least justified in charging, for example, the daughter of the Canaanitish woman with sins of that class. Although it cannot be denied that the condition of demoniacs might originate in individuals from personal offences, from irregularities which opened the door for the demon into the psychical life; yet these sick persons, taken at an average, form a poor little group, which in part even from childhood found themselves under a psychical ban. And so it was with the demons by whom they were tormented. They were regarded by the Jews as inferior devils, or impure spirits that had been forfeited to Beelzebub, since they cherished the notion that they might be expelled by the help of Beelzebub. The most different states and characters are also confounded, when the spheres of demoniacal suffering and of demoniacal acting are not kept distinct. But in order to hold fast this distinction, we must take care to observe that many symbolical expressions are found in the Gospel history, which are borrowed from the sphere of demoniacal suffering, to designate purely ethical relations. To this class apparently belongs the language which John uses of Judas, after he had received the sop from Jesus at the Passover, that ‘Satan entered into him’ (John 13:27). We might also be disposed to adduce here the account given of Mary Magdalene, that the Lord cast seven devils out of her (Mark 16:9), since it is not probable that we are to reckon literally seven distinct demoniacal possessions or psychical enthralments, and from such a reckoning draw a precise and definite conclusion. Add to this, the number seven denotes in a significant manner, not only the extreme generally, but also the extreme of self-activity.1 The seven unclean spirits remind us, by contrast, of the seven spirits of God. And as these spirits denote the one Holy Spirit in His fulness and agency, so the seven devils may denote the impure spirit of the world in its collective power and activity. And as Christ, by having the consecration of the seven spirits, is distinguished as moving freely in the life of the Holy Spirit, so the possession of seven demons might distinguish the ethically culpable, and therefore metaphorical, possession of an erring soul that was completely under the power of the spirit of the world. According to the Evangelist Luke (Luke 8:2), the Lord was accompanied in His journeys by ‘certain women, which had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary Magdalene, out of whom went seven devils (δαιμόνια ἑðôὰ), and Joanna the wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and Susanna, and many others, which ministered to Him of their substance.’ If into such a group of females, containing one, or several, whom Jesus had freed from demoniacal suffering, a convert entered whom Jesus had rescued from the heavy curse of sin, it is very probable that, in accordance with the prevalent Jewish notions, she would express her gratitude by saying that He had cast seven devils out of her.2 This explanation is confirmed by Christ’s parabolic discourse, in which He represents to the Jews the condition in which they were as most perilous, by the phenomena of demoniacal suffering (Matthew 12:43, compared with Luke 11:24). ‘When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest and finding none. Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation.’ This discourse, if we look at the connection, seems to be neither wholly figurative, nor wholly literal. Jesus had just before cast out a demon from a sick man (Matthew 12:22). But when the Pharisees reproached Him as casting out devils by Beelzebub, that demon seemed to come back with seven others and insolently to confront Him, as if in mockery of His former victory. Jesus found in this an image of His whole ministry in Israel. Everywhere He expelled the single demon of psychical suffering from among the people; but everywhere it returned again with the seven demons of blaspheming unbelief.1 The demon appears here with the number seven, and therefore as the demon of free conscious culpability, of the vilest depravity. It is highly significant, and quite in accordance with the Gospel history, to represent those direful demoniacal sufferings as sevenfold less than the wretchedness of demoniacal criminality. From this metaphorical mode of speaking, with which Christ treated of demoniacal relations, it does not follow that He adopted by way of accommodation the general opinions of His time respecting the true demoniacal nature of the sufferings of the possessed. That He shared in these opinions, His whole treatment and estimate of these phenomena testifies, which always remained the same in the private conversations He held with His disciples respecting them (Matthew 17:21). Strauss therefore is quite justified in ascribing these opinions to the Lord (2:7). But from this we are not justified in affirming, that Jesus shared in the sensuous representations of the people respecting the corporeal nature of these demoniacal possessions, as the same writer also maintains. The very connection of the phenomena of demoniac suffering with those of demoniac action, as the Lord understood it, proves that in the possessions He had recognized the psychical element, the relation between suffering and ethical self-activity. We may draw, however, the same conclusion in a special manner from His mode of healing. As far as we can trace and judge of the moral state in the obscure circumstances of the possessed, the chief feature that strikes us is the moral despondency, the abject flinching and trembling before the assailing hostile power, whether this arose from the demoniac fixed ideas of the sufferers, or from individual demoniacal influences. This abject bearing cannot avoid showing itself in some way or other, so as to afford a glimpse of the moral state of the soul, even in cases where the demoniac is born in the soul-slavery of a disordered state of the nerves. At all events, it appears as the first step in healing the demoniacs, that Jesus crushed at a blow this despondency of the demonized consciousness. He crushed it, namely, by the manner in which He addressed the demon. He set spiritual power against spiritual power, the stronger against the weaker. With a lion’s spring He made Himself master of His prey. With one divine, determined wrench, He released the captive soul from its thrall. But this, according to the nature of the case, could only take place by the impartation of His own power to it. His power was shed upon the sufferers when He threatened the demons by His crushing rebuke. The style in which Christ addressed men had always a tone of kingly decision; it was the expression of heavenly power and certainty. By the forcible impression which these brief winged words of command uttered by the Lord made on the souls of men, they have fixed themselves in the Gospel tradition with unchangeable freshness. But it is obvious that Christ, in this method of throwing fire with His words into the soul, made a specific difference between the sorrowful and the despairing. The sorrowful He consoled with all the miraculous tone of a heavenly sympathy: the burdened sinner, for example, He consoled with the words, ‘My son! thy sins are forgiven thee!’ the woman suffering from the issue of blood with, ‘Be of good cheer, My daughter!’ Mary Magdalene with the exclamation, ‘Mary!’ and others in different ways. And here it must be remarked, that the modern philanthropic but enervated treatment of souls has made a great mistake, in placing the despairing in the same category with the sorrowful, and attempting to revive them by consolations. They require a very different treatment: they must be roused to regain their self-possession by words of severity; they need the influences and quickening utterances of glowing, impassioned power. The thunder and lightning of a saintly soul, which can rebuke them as with the flames of divine wrath, restores to them that power which feebler addresses could never give. Indeed, only the pure spirit of Christ can properly discharge this office of rebuke.1 Christ was the Master also in this art of curing souls. Not only did He in this manner restore demoniacs, but all who either temporarily or constantly were unmanned by dejection. Thus He rebukes the disciples when they lost their self-command in the storm; He rebuked the fever of Peter’s wife’s mother (Luke 4:39); and exclaimed in the synagogue to the woman bowed down by a spirit of infirmity, ‘Woman! thou art loosed from thine infirmity’ (Luke 13:12),-He dispersed immediately her despondency, the spirit of her weakness, by His word, and then, by laying His hands on her, healed her bodily infirmity. This last example leads us to consider the manner in which Jesus especially treated demoniacs. How glorious the royal Prince of spirits appears among them with these master-words of rebuking love! ‘He cast out the spirits with a word,’ says Matthew (Matthew 8:16). ‘He straitly charged them,’ says Mark, ‘that they should not make Him known’ (Mark 3:12). To the possessed in the synagogue at Capernaum He cried out, ‘Hold thy peace and come out of him.’ Probably the command, ‘Come out!’ was re-echoed in the soul, as the Lord in such cases injected it as a divine power into the consciousness of the sick man, and the first act of his reawakened freedom consisted precisely in this, that he repeated the word in his own soul, ‘Come out!’ In this state of captivity the possessed was one with the demon, and spoke out of the consciousness of the demon; therefore the Lord also addressed the demon that was in him. But in the moment of his release he became one with the Lord, and the word which the Lord thundered against the demon he himself addressed to him. If we rely on the exactness of the order of the particulars in the account of Mark (Mark 5:7) and of Luke (Luke 8:29), the memorable case here occurred, that the demoniac was was not at once healed after the Lord had spoken the decisive word. Christ had said to him, ‘Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit!’ The demoniac consciousness in this man was now indeed shaken to its foundations; but as he felt himself possessed by a legion of evil spirits, the demoniacal within him was not quite reached by the address in the singular. Christ saw at once how the cure was to be completed. He asked him for his name. ‘What is thy name?’ He answered, ‘My name is Legion, for we are many.’ But from this insolent raving of his demoniac consciousness the contradiction already glanced forth: the prostration of spirit which had shown itself in the very circumstance of his running to meet the Lord. The demons now asked permission to go into a herd of swine, of which we shall speak hereafter. Matthew’s word, ‘Go!’ seems to have been here the authentic and decisive word of the Lord, which echoed in the soul of the possessed, ‘Go!’ The rebuke with which Christ met the crowd, who were waiting for Him at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration, is very characteristic. Here was a spiritual battle to be won again, which His disciples had lost from a want of a more rigorous self-discipline in prayer and fasting. The spirit of despondency which had mastered the whole circle by the unexpected failure, was to be expelled. The Lord was sensible of this psychical obstruction, and removed it by a powerful rebuke. He then made a path for the communication of His miraculous power by strengthening the heart of the father of the unfortunate youth. Then followed the healing word of power. In the crisis of such a cure, the most violent change came over the sufferer in an instant. His consciousness sprang up, so to speak, from the abyss to the heights of heaven. It was natural for the cure to end in a final dreadful paroxysm. The sick man at Capernaum cried out aloud when the divine voice of deliverance pealed like thunder through his soul. In the instance before us, the sufferer became fearfully agitated and fell to the earth as dead; a second miracle was needed, which Christ performed when He took him by the hand and lifted him up. It is scarcely necessary to call attention to the fact, that all these narratives of miraculous cures bear a decided impress of individuality and the noblest stamp of internal truth. But in what degree these cures were complete, we see from the language of the restored Gadarene. When his countrymen desired Jesus to depart out of their coasts, he requested that he might be allowed to accompany Him. Though a legion of evil spirits had before haunted him, his consciousness was now firmly fixed in free devoted surrender to the one Spirit of light, whose power had rescued him and become master of his soul. The whole category of the Lord’s miraculous cures serves to exhibit the dominion of His Spirit over the flesh, since their effect was to re-establish the dominion of the human spirit over morbid corporeity, and its victory over the influences of the powers of evil. The liberation of human spirits, and their restoration to health by the blessing of the Spirit, as it goes on to the end of the world, and has its basis in the power of Christ’s Spirit and in His victory, exhibited its first blossoms in the miraculous cures. But we now enter on a new circle of miracles. We see the first signs of the spiritual glory of Christ, which is to transform the earthly sphere of this lower world. To this class belong, as the clearest and most distinct signs, the great miracles which Christ performed on the mental states of men. As such, we consider most decidedly the miracle at Cana and those of feeding the multitudes. The key to these truly heavenly facts is wanting when the mental state of the guests of Jesus is left unnoticed, and as much attention is lavished on the elements as if we had merely to do with bread-baskets and wine-jars. When Jesus made provision for a circle of friends, or for thousands of His adherents, the question is of the highest importance, What influence He exerted on their souls? Now we know He was never disposed to gain adherents by violent or over-persuasive urgency. The Son makes those free whom His Spirit takes captive. He could only by slow degrees establish the heavenly kingdom of Christian dispositions, because He mingled His life with the life of the world through the medium of the holiest tenderness, or through the tenderest holiness. But a heavenly kingdom of states of feeling He could at once call forth, by virtue of that captivating spiritual power with which His personality operated on susceptible souls. Such souls, by the power of His divine Spirit which inspired them, and by the glow of sympathy which ravished them when once touched, He could raise for some moments to heaven, and transport into a common frame of divine joy, peace, and love, in which life appeared as new, and the world as transformed. Such foretastes of heaven make their appearance throughout the whole Gospel history. But the difference must be lost sight of between transient moods and permanent dispositions, between occasional flights of excited feeling and the constant soaring of the Spirit, when it is thought strange that many of those whom Christ had borne upwards in a favourable hour should relapse into common or even evil tendencies,-that the majority, or even all, at times should fall away. And it would argue ignorance of the spirit of Christ, if we were to expect that He would not venture so boldly to call forth the flowers of the new life, because He knew that these flowers would for a long while have no fruits. But we find sufficient indications of the miraculous elevation of men’s souls in events of this kind, and of the connection of these miraculous transactions with these miraculous states of mind. On the occasion of the marriage at Cana, for the first time in the history of the world a Christian assemblage for festive purpose took place in the presence of Christ. The mother of Jesus is full of great and anxious, and yet joyful forebodings; she communicates her state of mind to the servants of the family, who are imbued with the greatest confidence in the words of Jesus. They fill the water-pots-they bring the beverage at His bidding with perfect readiness. Meanwhile the company are so occupied with their conviviality, that they know not what has transpired outside. But the wine they are now drinking at the height of the feast is pronounced, even by the governor of the feast, to be as good as, or better than, what had been drunk before. In the element of a singular state of mind, in which the wedding guests had become one as branches with the true vine, with Christ as the principle of the world’s transformation, the water becomes changed for them into wine. We have here to do with the operations of a higher ethical ecstasy-with the operations of a very beautiful but extraordinary state of mind, in which the festive Jews find themselves transported, by the power of Christ’s Spirit, from the beginnings of the world to the heights of the transformed world. The drink which they quaff in this state of mind, being blessed to them by the presence of Christ, is to their taste the choicest wine. Thus they enjoy it not in mere spiritualistic fancy, but with the most real gust.1 But how it was with the supply of wine outside of the highly vitalized sphere of the feast, would be a question of the same kind as what transformation (Verklärung) remained in the consecrated bread outside the holy sphere of the actual celebration of the Supper. Also the miracle of feeding a multitude, which, without prejudging, we here consider as having occurred twice, was evidently effected by a state of mind allied to His own in the guests of Jesus. The confidence with which He announced that He was about to feed the thousands, and even the thought of this feeding, was so new a revelation of the kingdom of love and confidence, that the souls of those who had once followed Him as His adherents into the wilderness, were elevated by this event far above their ordinary state of feeling. They sat down at His word, and their doing so indicated an exceedingly high and powerful elevation of their feelings. But it is an acknowledged fact, that impassioned expectation and joy can be propagated electrically and with augmented force among thousands. After the first miracle of feeding, those who had partaken of the food wished to make the Lord king,-a proof that they had celebrated a feast in the highest pitch of theocratic enthusiasm. In those moments the heavenly power of Christ could feed its thousands miraculously. His word alone had already strengthened them afresh, to say nothing of the word in connection with the natural means. Thus the feeding so as to satisfy them is explained,-but not the overplus, the baskets-full of fragments. On this point it makes a great difference, whether we are inclined to see an Old Testament feast of loving omnipotence, or a New Testament one of omnipotent love. This remark requires further explanation. That among the guests of Jesus many were destitute of food, is certain, and the whole multitude were in danger of suffering the pains of hunger. But it appears incredible, if we take into account the Jewish method of travelling and making pilgrimages, that many of these pilgrims should not have carried with them a supply of provisions, greater or less. On these supplies, indeed, the Lord would not wish first of all to reckon. The miracle of feeding and of satisfying which He undertook, was quite independent of such supplies. But it could as little on that account be His concern to fill a multitude of baskets with fragments, over and above what was eaten. Now if such provisions are presupposed, we may be inclined to take the following view of the transaction. Christ feeds the thousands exclusively with the substance of His own bread. But those among these thousands who really had provisions, would hold them absolutely in reserve for themselves. Their hearts therefore remained closed, their private property remained like a fixture by their side; while Christ gives up everything, and the poor among them take their share of the distributed bread. Even in collecting the fragments, their gifts in bread do not add to the amount. Evidently, on such a supposition, the power of Christ is glorified at the cost of the operation of His love; and the dark miracle of the unheard-of, selfish reserve of the multitude hanging on the lips of Jesus, confronts the direct, exalted miracle of benevolent omnipotence. But if we are desirous of commemorating the founding of a New Testament feast, a heavenly bloom of social life, in the miraculous feeding, we must above all things feel how the hearts of the guests of Jesus thawed under His festive invitation and thanksgiving-how they were rendered great, warm, free, and brotherly, so that no one would keep his bread for himself, while he enjoyed likewise that of his brother. Thus we gain two splendid miracles of omnipotent love, which in the warmth of the moment form one-Christ feeds thousands with His little stock by an operation of heavenly power.1 But this feeding, as an operation of love, opens their hearts, and forms a pre-celebration of the final transformation of the world in the blessedness of Christian brotherly love-a pre-celebration of the Christian voluntary community of goods; and thus the second miracle takes place, the miracle of superabundance among the thousands of the poor people in the wilderness. It has been justly observed, that in these miracles we may descry a foreshadowing of the Holy Supper. Certainly the guests of Jesus were communicants as to the state of their feelings, though not in developed and ripened Christian insight. In the communion, wine is always poured out for those who partake of it, which has the power and significance of His blood, and bread is broken, which is received and experienced as the life and action of His body. But in the consecrated circle of the communion a thousand mysterious experiences occur, experiences of strengthening and refreshment, and even of exaltation to heaven, which are intimately allied to those miracles of the Lord which affected men’s states of mind, and allied not merely in reference to their special origin, the living power of Christ’s heart, but also in reference to their final aim, the transformation of the world. Those miracles, as well as the permanent blessings of Christ in the Holy Supper, may be regarded as foreshadowings of the coming transformation of the world. Attempts have been made to throw suspicions on the miracle at Cana by designating it ‘a miracle of luxury.’ Criticism resolves to do anything for the sake of gaining its object, even to put on pietist airs. But the spirit of Christ is perfectly self-consistent when it treats the higher modes of want-as, for example, the worrying perplexity of a new-married couple, whose wedding is likely to end in ridicule and vexation for lack of wine-with the same sympathy as the lower modes. The anointing which Mary performed at Bethany in honour of the Lord, of whose departure she had a presentiment, also appeared a work of luxury; but the Lord protected His female disciple against the attacks of those disciples who thought that the cost of the ointment should rather be given to the poor. Christianity will never allow itself to be changed into a mere hospital or alms-house, but in its spirit and aim always tends to the pure luxury of freeing and transforming the life, apart from the beautiful festive ideal manifestation of the spirit. A sickly spiritualism can accommodate itself only to the coarse natural constitution of the present phenomenal world; the entire new world, on the other hand, which is to bloom forth from the living power of Christianity, and more especially the resurrection of the dead, appears to it as an extravagant luxury of Christian hope. But the Christian spirit cannot despair of the eternal unity between the idea and the life, and therefore expects that all Christian principles will one day celebrate their appearance in the reality, in the full splendour of the idea; and it descries the foreshadowings of this future transformation in the ‘miracles of luxury,’ as they meet it, not merely in the marriage feast at Cana, or in the miraculous feeding of the multitude, but also in that quelling of the storm which Jesus effected, and in the miraculous draught of fishes which He caused. In the history of the kingdom of God there is one class of miracles which may be called miracles of theocratic parallelism,-those, namely, in which the inner relation between the life of the earth and the life of humanity is exhibited in the most striking manner. Those persons who have not perceived, or who deny, this parallelism in the development of the corporeal and spiritual side of the current æon, and the coincidence of the great phases of development both inward and outward, should not venture to say anything about the supremacy of the idea, and about the ideality of the world. The Theocracy corrects their dualism. The majority of the miracles in the Old Testament history belong to this class of parallel miracles. A great phase in the history of the earth or the universe coincides with a great phase in the history of the kingdom of God; and indeed the former is subservient to the latter, just as reasonably as the earth is subservient to man, or as the history of the universe is subservient to the history of spiritual life. Thus, for example, the plagues of Egypt coincide with the event of the redemption of Israel from Egyptian bondage; and the moment in which Israel, pursued by Pharaoh, reached the shores of the Red Sea, was the same in which a singular natural phenomenon dried the bed of the sea. The theocratic spirit justly explains the coincidence of these events as proceeding from God’s ordination; it marks it in true dignity of spirit as an operation, a fruit and consequence of its faith. But like the prophetic spirit, before the moment of the miracle arrived in which ‘the stars in their courses fought’ for Israel, it had an inspired presentiment of it, and therefore announced it beforehand. It need not in the least perplex us when those miracles of parallelism come forward in giant forms. Nature always confronts man as a giant power, and yet bends before his spirit and becomes subservient to him with all her powers. It is a tacit, eternal miracle, that man, this naked, defenceless creature, bound to the earth, shivering in the blast, trembling in the water, dissolving in the heat, standing defenceless amidst a thousand armed warlike hosts of the brute creation,-this child that ‘plays on the hole of the asp, and puts his hand on the cockatrice’s den’ (Isaiah 11:8),-this Daniel in the lions’ den,-that he in the power of the spirit gains even a more decided ascendancy over nature, even releases it from its own captivity, since he brings its essence to light, and compels its action into the service of the spirit. This silent miracle has its great festive hours-world historical Sundays-on which the giant spirit of Nature comes in a critical moment to the aid of the embarrassed divine man as an elephant to its master’s child,-when the course of Nature unfolds the consecrated, holy tendency of its movements, its silent concurrence with the course of the kingdom of God, in clear, grand signs. It is the triumph of Revelation that it has explained these signs, and with their explanation has declared the unity of the course of the world in its successive æons in the life of Nature and of man. These parallel miracles also reappear more strikingly in the history of the apostles; the young Church needed the service of the giantess, Nature, who recognized in the former the beginning and pledge of her own glorification. In the history of the life of Jesus the parallel miracles are less conspicuous, because in Him perfected life was manifested, and therefore the glorification of Nature by the Spirit; the elevation of the parallelism between the life of Nature and the life of the Spirit into a living unity. Besides the wonderful events at the death and resurrection of Jesus, which we shall notice in the sequel, we may regard the stilling of the storm on the Sea of Galilee as a miracle in which that parallelism appears and finds its solution. We cannot estimate too highly the world-historical importance of that hour, when the whole New Testament Church in its embryo life, the entire living power and spiritual quintessence of the Old Testament theocracy, after being rescued from a thousand perils by great miracles-in which therefore the hopes of humanity were enclosed in a paltry fishing-boat on the Galilean sea-were in the greatest danger of being swallowed up by the waves. Here also nature seems to have presented her dark side-she seemed to rave like a demon savage, and to aim at swallowing up the noblest life-life absolute. But Christ did not take the storm on this side: the awful agitation alarmed Him not; it rocked Him to sleep. And when the alarm awoke Him, He found it necessary, first of all, to rebuke the storm in the hearts of His disciples.1 Storm against storm: He rebuked them till they were ashamed; deeply calmed in spirit, they looked on the storm with new eyes. With this alteration in the state of their minds, the storm must at once have seemed to them greatly to abate its fury. Then He rebuked the wind and the sea. But the wind and the waves are not hostile spiritual powers in His presence; so that what He uttered was not so much an address as a prophetic annunciation, and a mysterious symbolic act. The proximate cause of the stilling of the wind and waves lay in the atmosphere; and so far was the miracle a parallel one, and the rebuking word of Jesus prophetic. But the ultimate cause of the extraordinary hushing of the elements lay in the life and feelings of the God-man. To Him it was certain that the apparently monstrous independence thus confronting the human spirit exhibited only an apparent outbreak, in which the actual outbreak of man was reflected and punished; that therefore this independence of Nature must be abolished in His spirit-life, and must be abolished for the world. This abolition He carried into effect by a symbolical act, the essence of which is a mystery of His deepest life. From the depths of His divine consciousness, of His eternity, He caused the fact to come forth in a miracle, that the spirit of solemn repose in His life put an end to the morbid agitations of Nature. He represented in a symbolical act this quiet operation of the Christian life of humanity, the ripe product of which is to be unfolded in the sabbatical peace of the new world.1 The miraculous draughts of fish which the disciples made twice by the direction of the Lord (Luke 5:11 and John 21:1-11), pre-suppose in them neither an omniscience on the part of Christ, nor a universal sciolism (allwisserei) disturbing the divine unity of His life. The means of putting into exercise the extraordinary knowledge which He displayed on these occasions, lay in the hearts of the men who were attached to Him. Would He not notice from a distance the deep, bitter dejection which darkened their souls on account of the total failure of their night’s toil? Nothing in the world could more deeply interest Him than the state of those souls in which He was desirous of implanting His own heavenly life. But when, full of sympathy, He saw (as it were) through their eyes, and sought after the fish, he was certainly a sagacious fisherman who could detect the traces of the fishes in the play of shadows on the watery mirror, or by similar signs, if we are not disposed to admit that He became aware of their existence by the electrical action of an immense living shoal crowded together. A modern poet expresses the thought, that if man ever corresponded to his idea, the birds of heaven would fly to him in flocks. Did the poet fetch this thought from the Gospels, and only believe that he must change the fishes to birds? That fishes are less intelligent than birds, does not incapacitate them for experiencing influences which are beyond our calculation; rather, indeed, for that very reason they are taken more readily by the slightest impression, especially as their life has less of individuality. So there are, for example, kinds which are enticed and taken at night by the shining of a light. The myth of the effect of the harp of Arion on the dolphin points, at all events, to some actual fact,-to an extraordinary movement of fish which was occasioned by the magic of human influence. Yet we are not going to start the question, whether perhaps, in both the instances to which we refer, the fish had made an irregular movement towards the shore on which Christ was standing. At all events, the Lord was certain of His word when He staked His whole authority with these men on the one draught which they were to make; and the less clearly we can understand whence He obtained this certainty, the more sublime do the life-depths appear of the man, as He must be, the God-man, ‘under whose feet (according to Ps. 8) were placed the fishes of the sea.’ Among the facts recorded in the Gospels which especially harmonize with the transformation of the world by Christ, must be reckoned the capture of the fish which Peter had to make in order to satisfy the persons who demanded the temple-tax of Jesus and himself.1 The account of this miracle has been considered the most perplexing in the whole Gospel history. Some have imagined that they have detected the narrator in a palpable contradiction, when they have asked how the fish could bite the hook with a stater in its mouth. Criticism, in raptures at this discovery, has bitten more daringly than usual the hook of this narrative; no temple-tax in its mouth has made it too difficult. Though, according to the structure of a fish’s mouth, the difficulty in question is not so very great, yet it is not said that Peter would find the stater exactly between the teeth in the mouth of the fish. The opening of the mouth may here be supposed to signify the means of getting down to the lower part of the throat. For a fish to have a piece of money in its mouth is by no means wonderful; for ‘there are accounts elsewhere of finding fishes that had coins and other valuables in their body.’2 Nor would it be wonderful if Peter had accidentally taken such a fish with a stater in its body. The wonder (or miracle) lies in this, that Jesus distinctly assured Peter beforehand of such a fortunate capture. We need not call to mind the powerful action of metals as experienced by clairvoyants, in order to render this miracle in some measure conceivable with all its obscurity; and in order to conjecture how Jesus knew this epicure of a fish that gulped down gold, and was so ready to take the bait. When Jesus found Himself reduced to the sheerest necessity, and when a stater was needed to fulfil an obligation, He learned in the mirror of God’s Spirit where it was to be found. He needed only to feel in the depths of the sea in order to obtain the requisite piece of money. But here also too much attention has been paid to the outside of the miracle, and so an obscurity has been cast on the motive. The Lord was reminded by the officers of the temple, through Peter, of the temple-tax. This demand seemed likely to produce a collision, as we may infer from the conversation of Jesus with Peter. According to His essential relation to the temple, He was identical with the spiritual meaning of it; the temple was only a faint outline of that habitation of God which His life exhibited. Or, according to the Israelitish law, the temple was God’s fortress, the palace of His Father, and He was the child of the palace. But as His father’s child, He was, of course, free from the tribute which the liege-subjects had to pay to His residence. If, then, Christ paid the temple-tax, He would not only deny the consciousness of His right relation to the temple, but He might confirm these Israelites in the false assumption that He owed tribute to the temple like a Jew who needed the Levitical sacrifice and atonement. Yet, if He did not pay the tribute, He might seem to the officers as if He slighted the law; thus they might either be set against Him or against the law, to their own injury. Therefore they would be offended not only by the non-payment of the tax, but even if Jesus had paid it without hesitation. Neither on this occasion was a loan or a borrowing of friends to be thought of.1 It is said, ‘Lest we should offend them, go thou to the sea,’ and then further directions are given; as if it had been said, Let us adopt this expedient. Now the stater, in a literal sense, was neither more nor less than a stater though found in the jaws of a fish. The moral effect of the payment would be just the same. But even this Jesus seemed desirous of avoiding. This inner motive of the history is as it were its soul, and must determine its interpretation. Jesus wished, then, to discharge the temple-tax in a shape which allowed its payment to appear as a purely voluntary act. This he attained by presenting a natural object to the tax-gatherers, which with wonderful certainty He had caused to be taken fresh from the sea. According to this view, the expression, ‘As soon as thou openest the mouth of the fish, thou shalt find a stater’, may be poetical, and mean, ‘As soon as thou hast taken the fish off the hook, thou shalt obtain for it the amount which they expect for Me and thee.’ This interpretation would be quite impossible if it were said, ‘Thou shalt find a stater in its mouth.’ These, however, are not the words. But though this interpretation is possible, it is very forced, since the expression of opening the fish’s mouth is a singular one, if it only means taking it off the hook. Moreover, it is said, ‘When thou hast opened its mouth, thou shalt find a stater.’ At all events, thus much is clear, that Jesus could not have intended that Peter was to catch as many fish as would fetch a stater in the market, and then give the amount to the tax-gatherers.1 The disciple, with the first fish he caught, was to have the value of a stater; it might consist in catching a very large fish, or a rare and valuable one, or, lastly, one with a coin in its mouth. In either case the miracle remains the same. It was precisely the design of Jesus to exhibit His free power by the miraculous form of the deed. It was needful, therefore, for this form to appear to the tax-gatherers as a miracle, which it would if Peter informed them in what extraordinary manner he obtained the stater. But the transaction would be more striking and free if he gave them a fish that was worth a stater, and informed them that he had drawn it out of the sea for them at the Lord’s command. The serene energy and the miraculous insight with which Jesus instantly unravelled a complication of legal and moral difficulties-the majesty with which He laid His hand on the great treasury of Nature, that in voluntary love He might pay a tax-make this ‘fabulous specimen of stories about the sea’ appear as the brightest, most delightful gleam of a world of love, of the most peaceful and calm adjustments, and of the richest blessings,-of a world such as Christ found by His Spirit, and as it is destined to appear in the transformation of the earth. But as the first glorification of Christ was connected with the prospect of His crucifixion, so the first glorification of the earth must precede the judgment of the world. We therefore now inquire after that miraculous sign by which the judicial power of Christ’s Spirit was directly made known. But though for all the other constituents of His universal agency we find a multitude of signs, yet for this great and awful constituent only one is given-the cursing of the fig-tree. We need not say a word to show that it could never enter the Lord’s thoughts to punish a fig-tree, or to vent His displeasure upon it. The Evangelists, also, were so far from entertaining such a thought, that it could as little occur to them to guard their account against the misrepresentations of a criticism which would rather find here the anger of an undisciplined child than the symbolical significant act of the Saviour of the world. That the act must have had a symbolical meaning, cannot fail to strike us. W. Hoffman justly remarks, ‘Let us read in Matthew and Mark what subject chiefly occupied Jesus at that time-what He said in the temple on the very day of the miracle: it was an announcement of the final destruction of the Jews, who had remained an unfruitful tree. Whether or not Jesus had already spoken of it on the way, the cursing in any case remains a symbolic act. It signified that, as certainly as the green leafy tree withered at the word of the Lord, so certainly would all the divine threatenings against Israel be fulfilled, though it appeared at that time to stand in such luxuriant growth.’1 In those days Jesus foretold unheard-of judgments-how they would come on Jerusalem, on the land of Judea, and indeed on the whole earth-how they would come in His name, in retribution of their wanton rejection of Him, but also as a necessary purification of the world before the event of the resurrection. As the Prophet of judgment, He walked with profound sorrow among His disciples, filled with the thoughts of the coming judgments, while they could not give up the expectation of a transformation of the world without the preliminary terrors and sentences of judgment. They needed, therefore, a sign. Elijah might have devoted for the purpose part of the city of Jerusalem; Christ selected a tree. Criticism in vain assumes here the air of a forester or a gardener, and declaims about the injury done to the tree. With equal right the Lord might be made accountable for the destruction of Jerusalem. No curse is fulfilled without the co-operation of the sovereign God with the foretelling prophet. The Lord was hungry, and the tree seemed to invite Him by its abundant foliage. He went up to it, if perchance He might find some fruit, if only a single fig, upon it; but in vain: there was nothing but leaves. For it was not a good year for figs.2 Then Jesus uttered the words, ‘Let no fruit grow on thee henceforth for ever.’ The next day the tree was found withered. This miracle was a prognostic of that melancholy drought through the land which began some ten years after, during which the palmtrees disappeared, the fig-trees withered, and the springs were dried up. But how did Christ effect this miracle? When, at a later period, Peters rebuke fell on Ananias like a flash of lightning, the explanation is obvious-that it struck the conscience of Ananias with deadly energy. But by what medium could this word of Christ pass through the tree and blast it in all its parts? In order to form a correct view on this point, we must bring before our minds the general judgment in all its significance. In the general judgment the æonian administration of the Father coincides with the result of the æonian agency of the Son; in other words, the ripeness of the present world for judgment, the ripeness of the earth for the harvest, coincides with the ripeness of the Church. For this reason the Father retains in His own power the time and hour of the end of world; and as He is now controlling the cosmical side of the end of the world as He judged Judea, especially in its relation to the history of the world, so here also He brought to view the first phenomenon of the incipient withering of the glory of Judea. God Himself, therefore, caused the tree to wither; but this was done with a reference to the judgment of Christ, His life and His language. The Father and the Son, therefore, performed this symbolical act in the most living unity. The word of Christ killed the tree, since, having been uttered by the operation of God, it appealed to God’s operation, and accordingly with that penetrated destructively through the nature-sphere of the tree. It was a word from the eternal depths of Christ’s life, in which the Son felt Himself altogether one with the Father. That lightning which will one day blaze from the east to the west, and set on fire all the old world, here blasted a perversely pretentious barren tree, and in its withering formed a prognostic of the final judgment. But to the disciples-who in the future could meet with no greater destruction than the outward, secularized Mount Zion, the barren pretentious Judaism-it gave the promise, that at their word of faith ‘this mountain’ (at all events, a mountain to which He pointed) ‘should be removed, and cast into the sea.’ The Lord, by a symbolical prognostic on a small scale, brought before their eyes that great judgment which was impending over Israel, when its national glory would be broken up and scattered among the nations (like the mountain cast into the sea). The disciples were thus taught that God met their faith in His judicial glory, and by His wonderful judgments would prepare the way for them as His own people to the glory that would be completed at the resurrection. Besides this miracle of the fig-tree, the darkening of the sun at the crucifixion, and the earthquake at the death of Christ, served to reveal the nature-side of the future judgment in awful omens. It was perfectly in keeping with the relation of Christ to the sphere of nature in the old world, that this sphere should be convulsed and darkened by the first presentiment of its future transformation at the hour when He sank in death. As all the operations of Christ first appeared in distinct single miracles, and then expanded their life in great and deep mediations, and finally were consummated in world-historical miracles, so was it with these miraculous signs which announced the last judgment. Their mediation lies in an operation of the Spirit of Righteousness upon the earth, during which more critical phenomena of the last world’s curse are continually appearing; we might say, during which the combustibleness of the earth, and the fermentation in the depths of its life, are evermore unfolding their adaptation for a metamorphosis. But here we are contemplating the judgment of the world only as an introduction to the resurrection, with which it is closely connected, just as the individual resurrection of Christ was introduced by His death, in which He had experienced the judgment of the world in Himself. The final aim of Christ’s work is the resurrection-the introduction of the whole Church of God into an incorruptible and manifested life, penetrated from eternity by the Spirit (1 Corinthians 15:1-58) That resurrection finds its deepest ground, the principle which makes it an organic certainty, in the individual resurrection of Christ. This resurrection of the Lord is unceasingly perpetuated in the Church as a living energy. The life of Christ operates according to its nature in the world, awakening, invigorating, healing, and restoring, since it is essentially eternal life, or positive vivifying life. It is therefore not to be thought something merely figurative, and to refer simply to spiritual awakenings, when the resurrection of Christ is regarded as an awakening of humanity victoriously continued and pervading the history of the world. In the same real comprehensive manner in which He combats sin, He combats death; and with the same superiority which He displays in conquering sin, He completes His victory over death. He vivifies life, since He restores to it its intensive value; He conserves life, since He weakens the powers of death; He lengthens life, since He draws it always nearer the tree of life-nearer to a state conformable to the Spirit and to nature; He renews life, since He imparts to the inner man the power of the resurrection. Now, where do we find the first blossoms of this immeasurable agency of Christ? We find them in the three miracles which He performed, of restoring the dead to life. The restoring of the dead to life is in itself so difficult a miracle that we cannot receive the instances of it unhesitatingly unless we are previously satisfied about the resurrection of Christ. If we are certain of Christ’s resurrection, we have gained the superior principle, of which these miracles are to be regarded as easy developments. In the miracle of restoring the dead to life we must hold fast as the principal point, that Christ, as the Prince of life, rules dynamically over the kingdom of the dead-that His voice can reach and penetrate the departing spirit in the slumber of its transition to another world, in the obscure depth of life through which it falls into the bosom of God. We experience every day the enigma, the apparent contradiction, that a person asleep, and so far not a hearer, can hear a person calling, and we know that he hears quickest when his own name is called. Sharper voices and sounds of alarm can even exert an awakening power on those who are soundly asleep or quite stupified. But no human lamentation awakens the dead. But how intensely powerful, how deeply penetrating and all-pervading, Christ’s awakening voice must be, measured by the uniqueness of His person, by the decidedness of His will, by the certainty of His trust in God, and by the relationship of His life to the innermost life of the deceased! But where do we find the organic medium through which Christ’s voice reaches the spirit of the dead? Thus much is clear, that the body of the deceased in its first state is very different from a mummy or mouldering corpse. There is, so to speak, a fresh-paved way between the corpse and the spirit that has forsaken it. Science also has already arrived at the conjecture, that the last tones of life in the corpse die away much more slowly than has been commonly represented. The corpse is still full of the remembrance of life; hence also, in general, the features of the deceased reappear in plastic beauty, the reflection, so to speak, of that healthfulness which strove against the crisis of disease, and gained the victory at the cost of sacrificing the life, a prognostic of the future life. But when so obscure a track seems to show itself on which Christ reaches the dead with His voice, the question arises, How can the departed return into the dead organism? But the power with which the spirit returns, with which it flies back into the organism in its unity with the power of Christ’s word that called it, is to be regarded as the ray of life which again restores the organism. We must also here recollect that Christ did not resuscitate many dead persons without distinction in this miraculous manner, but only the individuals whose resuscitation was indicated to Him by the Father. Those who have supposed that Christ could not resuscitate the dead without regarding them as means for other objects, and encroaching on their already decided destiny, seem to have proceeded on the assumption that He performed His miracles without reference to the will of His Father. In this case the same remark might be made respecting His miraculous cures of the sick. But it was included in the destiny of the sick, that they were to be cured by Him (John 9:3); so also it belonged to the destiny of the dead, that He was to resuscitate them (John 11:4). In the successive steps by which these resuscitations of the dead follow one another, the power of Christ appears progressively more exalted.1 First of all, He restores the maiden on her death-bed; then the young man on the bier; and lastly, Lazarus in the sepulchre. But we see how in all these cases the Lord first of all combats the lamentations for the dead made by those who were around them,-how He quells the psychical desponding mood which surrounded the dead as if to ward off the approach of life, and then makes His way clear to the spirit of the deceased. ‘Fear not! only believe!’ He says to Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue. Then He makes a selection of those persons who were to be present at the resuscitation, namely, the disciples Peter, James, and John, and the parents of the child. Then He enters the house of mourning, and says to the people who were lamenting the dead, ‘Why make ye this ado, and weep? the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth (Mark 5:39). And they laughed Him to scorn.’ But He put them all out; and thus by alarming the living, made the field free from the alarm of death. The call, ‘Damsel, arise!’ impressed itself so suddenly in its original form, Ταλιθὰ κοῦμι, on the disciples, that Mark, who had a keen sense of the exciting, could not help inserting it in his Gospel. At the resuscitation of the young man at Nain, this preliminary combat of the life-restorer was shown by two signs ‘Weep not!’ He said to the mourning mother, and thus not merely consoled, but raised her into the bright circle of His own state of mind. Then He came nearer and laid hold of the bier,1 and the bearers stood still (Luke 7:14). This demonstration, of which the energy is reflected in the narrative, stopped the advancing procession of the mourners; and then followed the joyful resuscitation. At the resurrection of Lazarus, Jesus sought first of all to raise the dejected heart of Martha. But when Mary and the Jews (the friends of the family) met Him weeping, ‘He groaned in spirit, and was troubled.’2 With mighty indignation He set Himself against the waves of despondency which beat upon her breast; and without delay betook Himself to the grave. Once more there was a strong internal movement of His soul to repel a fresh attack of despondency. All the words which He uttered afterwards had the same design, to prostrate death first in the hearts of the bystanders. This striving serves to explain the form of the prayer which Jesus offered at the grave, and which some have thought strange and repulsive, because they have not taken notice of the internal conflict which of necessity preceded the act of resuscitation, and occasioned the Lord’s uttering aloud His address to the Father. The moment is difficult, serious, and decisive. Jesus cries with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come forth!’ The Evangelist, with the most vivid remembrance of the scene, selects the strongest terms, in order to exhibit the striking effect of that awakening call of Christ. Although the Lord recalled the dead whom He resuscitated to the present life without transporting them to an imperishable life, yet these restorations constitute the miracles by which He most decidedly displayed His majesty. In significance they are of the same order as His own resurrection, and with the future resurrection of the dead. They reveal the power of the Prince of life to abolish death, that is, to bear aloft all individual life according to its innermost nature and destiny from the depths of nature-life into His own ideality, and to exhibit it in that. For as far as the tide of death breaks over individuality with the appearance of destruction, death seems to pollute man in his sacred individuality. Wherefore it is said, ‘Thou wilt not suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption,’ and the resurrection of Christians is one with His own glorification. In the miracles of raising the dead, Christ unfolds the boundlessness of His might over individuals, and of individuals over the change to dust; they are the crown of His miracles. Besides the miraculous acts of Jesus reported by the Evangelists, He appears generally,1 and especially at Capernaum,2 to have performed many other wonderful works. But yet He was very far from allowing His miracles to appear with the profusion of everyday events. He decidedly set Himself against the craving for miracles. The opinion so commonly entertained, about the fondness of that age for miracles, has little to support it. Had it been prevalent in Israel, the people would hardly have reverenced as a great prophet,3 a man without the gift of miracles, John the Baptist. But as to their conduct towards Jesus, the case was different. As soon as the Jews believed that they had discovered in Him Messianic features, as soon as He gave any sign whatever, the craving for miracles which had faintly glimmered in their breasts burst forth into a flame, and they were ever longing for new and greater signs. The modern shyness for miracles has sought with great eagerness after those expressions of Jesus in which He checked the craving for miracles, in order to prove from them that He wrought no miracles, or at least that He regarded them as of little importance. But such a forced interpretation of the words of Jesus may be safely left to the impression it gives of its utter worthlessness. It is very clear from the Gospel history, that the Lord shaped His conduct in the spirit with a constant reference to the belief in miracles prevailing in His time, that is, He treated every particular case according to its peculiar character. But in this unrestricted diversity of treatment, three methods are distinctly prominent in His conduct. In those cases in which He could reckon on unlimited confidence, in the persons who needed His help, He rendered aid without any hesitation; indeed, He often brought them aid quite unexpectedly. But when He found that they were in danger of apprehending the miracle superstitiously, of losing sight of His own personality in the astonishment excited by the fact, or of seeking the miracle only as a common outward help, then He kept Himself aloof, and blamed them. ‘Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe’ (John 4:48). But if this tendency to bring His miracles into the service of selfishness was decidedly apparent, He entirely refused to gratify such expectations. He would not allow Himself to be taken for a bread-king (John 6:26), nor a court performer of miracles (Luke 23:8); and as little would He satisfy the chiliastic Pharisees when they demanded of Him a miraculous sign in accordance with their views of the world. It was in the spirit of diametric opposition between His christological world and theirs, when to meet their desire that He would accredit His mission by a chiliastic sign of the Messiah suited to their notions, He made a reference to the sign of His death (John 2:18-19). The sign with which His Messianic kingdom was to come into the world was His cross; while they were under the delusion that the Messiah must immediately begin His universal sovereignty under a cosmical sign.1 He always pointed to this sign of His death whenever they demanded from Him the cosmical sign of the new æon.2 He declared that only one sign should be given them, the sign of the prophet Jonah. From this declaration it cannot follow in the least, that He had done no miracle, or that His adversaries had never been present at such an act; for the question about which He was treating was the sign which, according to the Jewish chiliastic preconceptions, must at once satisfy the nation that the Messiah was come. The Evangelist Mark explains this declaration of Christ as equivalent to there shall no sign at all be given them. On the other hand, in Luke, Jonah himself, with his preaching, is regarded as the true sign for the Ninevites. But Matthew gives the thought in full. ‘For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly, so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth’ (Matthew 12:40). The three Evangelists have preserved the different sides of the interpretation of a mysterious saying. Mark gives prominence to the negative in the language of Jesus: He would grant no sign to His adversaries in the sense they attached to it. Luke specifies the reason: they ignored the great sign from heaven that was continually exhibited before their eyes in His life; although the heathen Ninevites were awakened to repentance by Jonah, a poor foreigner; and although an Arabian queen was attracted from a distance to Jerusalem by the wisdom of Solomon. But Matthew has preserved the words which occasioned our Lord to speak precisely of the sign of Jonah. Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the fish, apparently beyond recall, and lost to Nineveh and the world: so also shall it be with the Son of man. The Jews required a sign from heaven, but a sign from quite an opposite quarter was to be given them: one rising from the depths of the earth, from suffering and death, from reproach and neglect; first of all in the history of Jesus Himself, then in the world-historical course of His Church. This is the sign of the Christian æon, the crucifixion of Christ, as through the resurrection it has been proclaimed to the world. But this sign is to be a critical one for the world-to many, a sign of death, and to many, a sign of life and redemption. The crucifixion of Christ in connection with His resurrection has become the great sign of the new Christian æon; a sign before which all single miracles appear inconsiderable, like the hillocks at the foot of a lofty mountain. As soon as we are certain of the fact of Christ’s resurrection, we find in all miracles only a gentle prelude to this great hymn of ideal reality. Hence it is evident that we who find ourselves under the living operation of the resurrection, in the midst of the life-stream proceeding from it, in the natural unfolding and expansion of the greatest of all miracles, cannot possibly expect to witness such miracles in detail as Christ performed before His resurrection. Since the Spirit of Christ is in the most vigorous action, making all the blind to see, and removing bodily blindness in its root, He can no longer expend His power in performing a few single miracles of this kind. And so it is with the other miracles of Christ. In the miracle of the reconciliation of the world, which He accomplishes, He lays the foundation for its resurrection. From what has been said, it is also evident that everywhere on the border territory where Christianity comes into sharp conflict with the pre-Christian earthly life, events resembling miracles, or actually miraculous, may make their appearance. Thus the disciples received from the Lord the gift of performing miracles; this gift consisted in a preponderance of the Christian spirit, especially of the confidence of faith, which raised them above the despondency and bondage to nature belonging to their times. By His blessing their faith, He placed them in such a relation to His own miraculous Power, that they could cast out demons in His name (Matthew 10:1; Luke 10:17). By their miraculous deeds, they extended the circle of the first direct operation of Christ upon the world. Also, in the vast extension of Christianity in the middle ages, not merely extraordinary, but even miraculous operations of Christian power, made their appearance, though not invested with the glory of the original Christian spiritual life. And so also the miracles of Christ must return, when the passage of the new Christian æon through the old is completed with the final outburst of the spirit at the end of the days. Then too Christ will give His adversaries the Messianic sign from heaven which they formerly demanded; but at the sight of it, all the tribes of the earth shall mourn. But in proportion as the great miracle of the new world unfolds itself as the effect of Christ’s life, it must become manifest, that His single miracles, not only as immediate evangelical facts, but as the subjects of evangelical announcement, were only single, gentle modes of bringing His divine power into communication with the life of the world. notes 1. A distinct progression in the dogmatic development of the conception of miracle may be observed, which appears accompanied by an increasing obscuration of it. The biblical designations, σημεῖα, δυνάμεις, τέρατα, and ἔργα, jointly rest on the most living, most immediate contemplation, and the most correct estimate of the facts. Miracles as σημεῖα point to the one fundamental power of the principle from which they proceed, and they are referable to it, because they are mediated by a higher nature-a higher spirit-life-a divine revelation of which they testify. But since they extend themselves as δυνάμεις, as so many rays of the original δύναμις from which they are produced, they appear as overpowering, supernatural principles, which, in conformity to their power, display themselves in their irruption through a lower sphere of nature. But this irruption is effected by breaking through the wonted limits, circles, and presuppositions of the old nature-life as τέρατα, as agitating, unheard-of events. But by their course, their operation and results, they prove themselves to be the noblest works of the Spirit, or of pure love. Every miracle has all these sides and designations; but, according to the varieties of susceptibility, some persons see more of one side, and some of another. The heathenish superstitious mind stops short at the τέρας; the strangeness of the miracle frightens him, and when he begins to doubt, the relative anti-naturalism irritates him. The believing Israelitish mind sees in a miracle the σημεῖον, the mediated sign of the forthcoming kingdom of God. The firmly established Christian mind beholds in these miracles the powers that unfold themselves from the divine power of Christ, δυνάμεις, as they begin overpoweringly in their first vigorous operations to form a new world in the old; the perfected Christian mind (like John) sees in them simply the works of Christ, the ἔργα, as they appear to him perfectly natural, and the life-manifestations of Christ’s glory, transforming nature. In Augustin’s times, the opinion that miracles were contrary to nature already existed, but was impugned by Augustin. To him all things were a miracle as far as they proceeded from God’s omnipotence, and all things were nature as far as they were constituted by the will of God, who created nature. But he distinguishes in life itself between miracle and nature, since he contrasts the extraordinary with ordinary nature. ‘Omnia portenta contra naturam dicimus esse, sed non sunt. Quomodo est enim contra naturam quod Dei fit voluntate, quum voluntas tanti utique conditoris conditæ rei cujusque natura sit. Portentum ergo fit non contra naturam, sed contra quam est nota natura-quamvis et ipsa quæ in rerum natura omnibus nota sunt, non minus mira sint essentque stupenda considerantibus cunctis, si solerent homines mirari nisi rara.’-De Civit. Dei, xxi. 8. Augustin has at the same time a distinct feeling of the mediation by which miracle is effected, namely, the resurrection and ascension of Christ. ‘Legebantur enim præconia præcedentia prophetarum, concurrebant ostenta virtutum, et persuadebatur Veritas nova consuetudini, non contraria rationi, donec orbis terræ, qui persequebatur furore, sequeretur fide.’-De Civit. Dei, xxii. 7. The schoolmen elevated the conception of miracle, since they distinguish between mirabilia and miracula. By a miracle, properly so called, Thomas Aquinas understood what goes beyond the order of all created nature, in which sense God alone performs a miracle. In this definition the supernatural in miracle is brought to its strongest expression, but yet the conception is not overstrained; it only wants the satisfying mediation. Aquinas gives, indeed, a kind of mediation, by connecting the contemplation of mirabilia with the definition of miracula. ‘Non sufficit ad rationem miraculi, si aliquid fiat præter ordinem alicujus naturæ particularis, sic enim aliquis miraculum faceret lapidem sursum projiciendo; ex hoc autem aliquid dicitur miraculum, quod fit præter ordinem totius naturæ creatæ quo sensu solus deus facit miracula. Nobis non est omnis virtus naturæ creatæ nota, cum ergo fit aliquid præter ordinem naturæ creatæ nobis notæ per virtutem creatam nobis ignotam, est quidem miraculum quoad nos, sed non simpliciter’ (Summa Theol. lib. i. qu. 110, art. 4). On these definitions, through which the ideal contemplation of the object, though obscure, is sufficiently discernible, the Lutheran theologians especially proceeded at a later period, when they raised the relative anti-naturalism of a miracle to absolute anti-naturalism, and then made this overstrained moment the only definition of the conception of a miracle. Besides the definition quoted from Buddeus, that from Quenstedt may prove this: ‘Miracula vera et proprie dicta sunt, quæ contra vim rebus naturalibus a deo inditam, cursumque naturalem, sive per extraordinariam dei potentiam efficiuntur’ (Systema Theol. p. 471. Compare Hase, p. 202; Hahn, Lehrbuch des chr. Glaubens, p. 23). To this view the philosophy of Leibnitz forms a counterpoise, since it defines a miracle as ‘aliquid cursui naturæ ordinario non autem essentiæ illius entis, in quo contingit (quoniam absolute impossibilia fieri nequeunt) contrarium’ (Dissert. prælim. ad Theodic. &c., § 2, 3. Compare Rixner, Handbuch der Geschichte der Philosophie, iii. 179). In modern times, some Church theologians have attempted to maintain the conception of miracle by dropping the strictly miraculum and retaining only the mirabile. Among these, J. Mller especially reckons Schleiermacher. Certainly Schleiermacher, in his Glaubenslehre, § 47, has made the assertion, that every absolute miracle must disturb the whole framework of nature; on the other hand, he also remarks, that ‘since our knowledge of created nature is contained in its progressive manifestation, we have the less right to hold anything whatever to be impossible.’ The tortuous and obscure expressions of Schleiermacher on this subject proceed from this-that, on the one hand, he recognized Christ as ‘the summit of miraculous agency,’ while, on the other hand, the Spinozist or naturalistic conception of the monotonous rigid sphere of nature confronted him. What Schleiermacher has advanced with special cogency, is the entrance of miracle into nature-its appearance in a natural course; and this is a decided gain, for by it the last element of the conception of miracle is firmly fixed. And if we look back, we find in its history the actual unfolding of all its component parts, though charged with one-sidedness and extravagance in the views taken of it. Augustin advocates the mediation of miracle; Aquinas its supernaturalness; Quenstedt its anti-naturalness; and, lastly, Schleiermacher its new nature. Weisse (i. 369) makes a distinction between wonders and miracles, and understands by the former, exertions of Christ’s power which ‘may be referred to the conception of a peculiar organic endowment,’ and by the latter, such acts of which the conception would be ‘the purely negative of going beyond the common course of nature, of breaking through the laws of this course of nature.’ These miracles-for example, those of feeding the multitudes-must have arisen from a mere misunderstanding of the parabolic discourses of the Lord. This view rests on the ignoring of the new æon, which we have already sufficiently characterized.1 2. Göthe has contemplated and exhibited with the greatest admiration the ascending scale which is presented in the life of nature, though he wished also to recognize the scientific designation of nature in an ascending movement; as the passage quoted by Tholuck from Göthe’s Doctrine of Colours expresses it: ‘As on the one hand experience is boundless, since it can always discover something new, so are the maxims throughout, since they cannot stiffen nor lose the capability of expanding and embracing a plurality, and even of consuming and losing themselves in a higher view.’ 3. As the attenuation of the conception of miracle is connected on the one hand with the attenuation of the doctrine of the person of Christ, so is it on the other hand with the attenuation of the eschatology. Those who, from their narrow dogmatic system, which has been contracted under the influence of philosophy, have rejected the æonian yonder world of space and time, the heavens and the new world-to whom, therefore, the idea of the future transformation of the world is wanting-have with it lost the general Christian view of the universe which alone is suited to prepare the way for the conception of miracle. 4. The human hand is the twofold organ of those activities of the spirit which are exercised and developed in the sphere of ordinary life, and of its dynamico-mysterious activities. It acts as an organ of the psychico-somatic operations of this kind in the function of the magnetizer; as an organ of pneumatico-psychical operations in ordination; lastly, as an organ of the pneumatico-psychical-somatic operations in the whole energy of the life of the God-man in Christian miracles. The physical basis of these operations has in all probability become known by a new discovery. In a work entitled, Ueber die Pacinischen Körperchen an den Nerven des Menschen und der Säugethiere von J. Henle und A. Kölliker, Zurich, bei Meyer und Zeller, 1844 (On the Pacinian Corpuscles in the Nerves of Man and the Mammalia, by J. Henle and A. Kölliker), the important discovery made by Pacini, a physician of Pistola, almost contemporaneously with others, is described and scientifically examined. Pacini discovered first of all, in the sensible nerves of the hand, small elliptical whitish corpuscles; also in the nerves of the soles of the feet. He began to prosecute the discovery in the animal kingdom; but found none in the dromedary, and few in the ox. So far as the discovery has been followed out by the editors of the above-mentioned work, these corpuscles are found (besides in men) in all the domestic mammalia hitherto examined; they are wanting in all birds, amphibia, and fishes. In particular cases some of these corpuscles are found in men, scattered in the nerves of the arms and legs, and in the region of the abdomen. They are found in the greatest number and with the most regular recurrence in the human extremities, and in cats in the diaphragm. In the human extremities, according to the drawing, they adorn the ramifications of the nerves of the skin, as fruit the branches of a tree. This is not the place for a more minute description of the corpuscles. From their general appearance, Pacini has been induced to compare them to the electrical organs of the torpedo, and to describe them as animal magneto-motors, and to refer them as organs to the phenomena of animal magnetism. The authors of the work above quoted make the following remark on Pacini’s discoveries: ‘It must not surprise us if the adherents of animal magnetism, who are not altogether extinct with us, seize hold of these statements with eagerness and turn them to account. Only let us beg them to extend their manipulations to the epigastric region of cats, which, by reason of their ample magnetic apparatus, promise very interesting facts.’ But we need only to recollect the difference between the flesh of cats and human flesh to perceive that this remark is only a joke. This distinction has indeed been firmly maintained in the mediæval fantastic relation between cats and witches, and the new discovery may perhaps contribute to its explanation. It is perfectly natural that the magnetism of the cat should be there for the sphere of the feline vocation, and perhaps serves for the purpose of its holding the magic-bound mouse outside its hole and playing with it. How far below the cat is the torpedo, since with its electricity it immediately strikes and benumbs its victim! This is indeed the rudest first trace of animal magnetism. The magnetizer, on the contrary, stands in the dignity of humanity incalculably higher than the cat in the application of his power, though even in his case the operation on the susceptible is obscure and magical, and the connection of the magnetized with him remains more or less a case of natural attraction (Gebundenheit). Magnetic connections of this kind are indeed, under the more general form, present in life in a thousand different modes, and may form themselves, especially in particular circumstances. But when the same power appears again in the prophetic region, it is transformed by the consecration of the ethical spirit, and operates only as a heavenly power, not disposing to sleep, but awakening,-not bewitching, but setting at liberty. The elementary flash, which even in the life’s manifestation of the torpedo leads to death, is here changed throughout into a vivifying operation of life. The authors of the above-mentioned works find themselves induced to regard these corpuscles ‘as a kind of electrical organs.’ But it is obvious in such a case, that the human electrical organs, in their nature and operation, must contain and exhibit the specifically human in its whole extent. It is in this respect to be carefully noted that these corpuscles are not found in all individuals in equal number and strength. This diversity in their allotment may indeed be considered as the foundation of the most different endowments. As to what concerns furnishing the sole of the human foot with these electrical organs, we are reminded by them not merely of the rhythmical structure of the human body, especially the feet, and the ecstatic dances as they occur among enthusiasts, of the not sinking of somnambulists in water, or of their ability to use the soles of their feet as organs of perception, but also of the ancient miraculous art of healing by means of the soles of the feet. Tacitus, after mentioning the fact that the Emperor Vespasian was applied to by a blind man in Alexandria to cure him by means of his spittle, reports that another sick person (prompted like the former by the god Serapis) requested that he might cure his diseased hand by contact with the sole of his foot; and so it really came to pass. It is unquestionably of great significance that these corpuscles, which have been compared to the Voltaic pile, have been discovered exactly in those parts of the human organism which, from a remote age, have been regarded as the life-points of a mysterious magical power. 5. In reference to the Demonology of the ancients, we have to make the following remarks. The conception of δαίμων or of δαιμόνιον (a word in which the impersonal, substituted for the demon, the demoniacal influence is indicated) embraces generally the representation of spirits belonging to the other world, as far as they make themselves known in this world by operations, fatalities, appearances, and living forms (while altogether opposite, the genius seems to denote the light-image of the other world, the ideal, life-image reflecting itself in the style of the other world, of an appearance of this world, of a man or a place). Also, the peculiar innermost nature of man can consequently come forward demoniacally when it exhibits itself in a dark power which breaks through its everyday life-form, so that the man himself in these moments stands there as a stranger. But when the ideal of his life comes so powerfully into visible manifestation, in this case the conception of demon and genius coincide; although here the genius maintains a peculiar relation to the Spirit of God sending or placing him; the demon, on the contrary, holds a special relation to the breaking of the innermost life through the form of the common life. Now it is not altogether a correct assertion, that the Greeks reckoned among the demons generally only departed human spirits, manes, lemures, and the like. The Greeks had also a superhuman dark kingdom of demons. Göthe has brought this forward in the second part of his Faust, and at the same time given the reason why the Grecian spirit placed these dark spirits, the Lamiæ and Gorgons, in the background of its mythology-‘Phœbus, beauty’s friend, drives away into holes these births of night, or restrains them.’ As this is the manner of the sunny day, so it was also of the Grecian sense of the Beautiful. Yet certainly the Greeks, ‘especially when they spoke of possessions, connected the notion of departed human souls with the words δαίμων and δαιμόνιον.’ (See Riegler, Leben Jesus Christus, i. 836.) As with the Greeks departed souls predominated among the demons, though superhuman demons were not wanting; so with the Jews the fallen angels predominated among the demons, though there was an intermixture of departed souls. That merely the souls of the giants, which probably from the narrative in Gen. 6 have been considered as the children of fallen angels, and the great transgressors before and immediately after the flood, were in this manner numbered with the angel-demons (see Strauss, Leben Jesu, ii. 12), cannot be admitted, since among the Jews the doctrine of the kingdom of the dead (Isaiah 14:9), the injunction not to interrogate the dead (Deuteronomy 18:11), and the assumption of the possibility of their return, were expressed without that limitation (1 Samuel 28:8; Isaiah 29:4; Matthew 14:2). That Josephus in his views attached himself to what predominated in the Grecian view, since he speaks of (De Bello Jud. vii. 6, 3) the demons as the spirits of wicked men, proves, at all events, that this theory did not in the least contradict the Jewish consciousness. The opinion that they were the souls of deceased men, has also been expressed by the earliest fathers who have treated of the subject of demons, namely, Justin Martyr and Athenagoras. ‘Tertullian appears to have been the first who took a different view, since he maintained that fallen spirits or devils falsely pretended in possessed persons that they were the souls of men deceased.’ Since among the Greeks it was the popular opinion that ‘the souls of those who died a violent death were demons,’ so Chrysostom endeavoured, especially in order to redeem the honour of the martyrs, to destroy the old popular representation. (See Riegler, i. 850.) The New Testament does not express itself more precisely respecting the nature of demons. That they are considered as belonging to the household of Satan (Matthew 12:25), does not in the least decide that it does not include the souls of deceased wicked men among the demons. At all events, according to John 8:44, the children of the devil belong as such to his household, although they were found among living men. If we carefully examine the Old Testament view, as it precedes the New Testament, and that of the early Church as connected with it, it is in the highest degree improbable that the Evangelists could mean by demons exclusively either evil angels or wicked deceased men. 6. When the cures of demoniacs as effected by Christ are termed ‘conjurations,’ the difference has not been observed between the agency of a master-mind who effects the expulsion of demons by the energy of his nature with fresh and free words of life, and the agency of a contracted exorcist who is bound to a traditionary hypothesis, to the expectation of the co-operation of higher spirits, and to an unbending formula. Between conjuration and the Christian casting out of devils there is a similar difference, wide as the poles asunder, as between a common anecdote and the facts of the Gospel history. 7. Strauss (ii. 181) collects the outward similarities in the miracles of the sea that are so characteristically different, called by him sea-anecdotes. ‘After they are set in order, each one is connected with the following by a common feature. The narrative of the calling of the fishers of men (Matthew 4:18) opens the series; with this the narrative of Peter’s draught of fishes has in common the saying respecting fishers of men, but the fact of the draught of fishes is peculiar to it. This latter recurs in John 21, where, in addition, there is the standing of Jesus on the shore, and the swimming to it of Peter. This standing and swimming appear parallel to the walking on the sea (Matthew 14:22, &c.)’ The author has forborne to complete his explanation of the significance of these similarities, as the connection of his work required. A gigantic sea-myth seems to have floated before him-a real sea-serpent-which perhaps was not delineated, because the Galilean sea seemed too small for such a mythic monster of the ocean. 8.1 Mainly with reference to Dr F. Krummacher’s review in his ‘Palm-blättern’ (March, 1845) has it become imperatively necessary to discuss the question, whether, according to the rigid supernaturalism of the present day, Christ’s human nature must be regarded as amalgamated with and lost in His divine nature, or whether the modern free-believing theology has a right to assert the distinction of the two natures in Christ, and is justified in indicating the human element as co-operating with the divine in His miracles. Krummacher seems from the first to proceed entirely on the monophysite theory, though quite unconsciously and without any heterodox design. When I speak of the accompaniment of a magnetic fluid (more correctly a super-magnetic power), a spiritual-corporeal affinity (Rapport), and of a plastic human spirit in the miraculous works of Jesus, Krummacher asserts that the immediate and creatively interfering power of God must be entirely passed by. It would be as logically inferred that, by admitting that the Son of God is come in the flesh, the divinity of Christ is denied. Dare we and should we speak of the reality of His flesh and blood, yea, of eating His flesh and blood? It is at least our right, and indeed, even more, our duty, to keep in view the distinctive qualities of His human nature in their union with the great self-determinations of His divine creative power as they appear in the miracles. Or must the article of our faith, that the Word became flesh, remain for all time unopened, undeveloped? Must the human with the divine form a contradiction even in the life of Christ the God-man? Krummacher is disposed indeed to gather from my representation of the gradual unfolding of Christ’s human nature, that I do not acknowledge His eternal divinity. The way and manner in which he arrives at this result I will here expose, in order to give a sample of his critical report on my theology, and with that I shall here close the discussion. I believe that in my work I have shown that the incarnation of God which was historically fulfilled in Christ Jesus, was an eternal one, of which the future completion in Christ was revealed and objectively presented to the Old Testament seers in the Angel of the Presence. From this Krummacher draws the conclusion (p. 155): ‘Lange’s Christ existed before the foundation of the world only as an idea in God, not as a person with God.’ And further on he identifies this Christ with the Son of God, that he may then say, ‘He knows nothing of the Son of God begotten before all time, as the personal image of God.’ Krummacher is very confident in this assertion, for he goes on to say, ‘The expression of our Lord Himself, “Before Abraham was, I am,” is then to be explained in the following manner: “I was before I was an I (ein Ich), already regarded as the Son of man in God, as becoming the Son of God in the ardent longing of men.” ’ In passing, I must here beg the reviewer to be on his guard against the thoughtless use of marks of quotation. Every reader who is familiar with their use would believe that the reviewer, with the words ‘I was before I was an I,’ &c., had quoted an assertion of mine; but he would be quite mistaken. I beg the courteous reader to read my explanation of the passage quoted by Krummacher, John 8:58 -an explanation which had been in print long before I had seen the exposition thrust upon me by the reviewer-and then judge how far he proves himself to be a trustworthy reporter of the meaning of my Christology. In my Dogmatics I teach most decidedly the essential Trinity in opposition to the economical and Sabellian. Krummacher himself derives his information from passages in which the eternity of the Son is plainly enough taught (i. 37, ii. 45, &c.) How comes he then to maintain that I know nothing of the eternal Son of God? I regret to say it: it is because he does not distinguish between the idea of the historical, or, generally speaking, of the personal Christ, and the idea of the Son of God. In all my writings I teach and assume the eternity of the Son of God; but with that I do not teach that the personal Christ has existed from all eternity as such. For He it is who in the fulness of time appeared as the God-man, or the Son of man anointed with the fulness of the Godhead. But Krummacher thinks that I must teach this in order to be orthodox, and does not surmise that in doing so I must go further in heterodoxy than the ancient Archimandrite Eutyches. Indeed, in speaking of a personal Christ, any one would be mistaken if he were inclined to designate the pre-historical Christ, who certainly is ideal, as merely ideal, and ignore His substantial existence. This would be sheer Nestorianism, from which I know that I am most decidedly free. Krummacher indeed asserts, that what stands written in John 17:5 of the glory of the Lord must be taken, according to my view, in an ideal and not in an ontological sense. But from this he absolves me on the next page by the remark, that the unfolding (werden) of the christological life under the Old Covenant, was, according to me, not merely formal, but at the same time substantial. Or what difference should there still exist between the ontological and the substantial sense, in opposition to the conception of the merely ideal on the one hand, and of the historical on the other? It is only needful to be tolerably familiar with my christological view to find that I speak of the ideal Christ as contradistinguished from the historical; but that I hold the eternal ontological being of Christ with a totally different emphasis from that of those theologians who, after the fashion of the older Dogmatic, see in the Angel of the Presence simply a super-earthly peculiar individuality in which the predicates Angel and Uncreated Essence are to be connected in a mysterious manner. But if Krummacher was not familiar with the distinctions between the substantial and the historical Christ, and between the conceptions Christ and Son of God, he must, as a reporter respecting christological investigations of the present day, fall into misunderstandings and misrepresentations. It is to be wished that he had spared himself the pain which must result from such public unfairness. The details I must reserve for a special answer to his attack. In the meantime I consider him responsible for all the scandal which may arise from the controversy thus forced upon me. I do not mean that I was troubled by his announcement, that he would assist the reader to determine whether ‘Lange’s book is to be deemed a step forwards or backwards in theology.’ I could wish with all calmness, for his sake and my own, and more than all for the sake of the subject which the book advocates in a defective manner, that he would clear up this question. But the conflict in which I find myself engaged with a genial, bold, and long-loved preacher of the Gospel, pains me much, not only on personal considerations, but such as relate to the Church. Yet perhaps this controversy is one of the preliminary skirmishes, occurring here and there, of that warfare which the believing, scientific theology must wage with the mass of monophysitic (abstract supranaturalistic) representations in our Church before the way of the future is again quite cleared for the confession of the Church. May our warfare be carried on Christianly and nobly under the inspection of the Lord, and lead to a blessed result! ======================================================================== CHAPTER 80: 02.071. SECTION X ======================================================================== SECTION X the teachings of christ, especially the parables Christ stood in the world with the pure heart, and so with the pure, simple vision, of the Man from heaven. Therefore He beheld God in spirit, His own Father. His course of life was in the perfect light of God, which was concentrated in Him, and made Him the Light of the world. The divine decree shone upon His soul like the clear daylight. But He beheld men in the world erring and perplexed, enchanted in ruinous delusion through the dazzling lights and shadows which sin forms from the light of the eternal train of beings in the universe, and through the spirit and world-destroying influence of selfishness (Egoismus). He saw them lost and walking in darkness; therefore He was continually striving to enlighten them by the light of His Spirit. And since the light easily becomes to those in darkness ‘a deeper night,’ it was always His task to mediate the life of His Spirit, as the light of the world, with the life of the world’s thoughts. When truth takes the form of mediating, it becomes teaching (doctrine). The teacher as such is a mediator between the light that is entrusted to him and the eyes of the spirit which he has to illuminate with this light. He must construct a bridge between the heights of knowledge and the low level of germinating thought. But as Christ is generally the Mediator between God and humanity, so is He also specially, as a teacher, the Mediator between the divine counsels and human thought. He is the Teacher: this is involved in His whole character; this He proves by His ministry and operations. In discharging His office of Teacher, He employs various forms of teaching, as they suited the various relations in which He stood to His hearers, and the inner constitution of these hearers themselves. When He first of all met with men who had not yet entered into close discipleship with Him, the form of His teaching is dialogue, a distinct interchange with those around Him in accordance with social life. In this dialogical interchange He particularly engaged when He had to do with adversaries. Hence it is evident why this form predominates in the Gospel of John; for John made it his special task to exhibit the most important conflicts between the Prince of Light and the children of darkness. The dialogical words of Christ were in the highest degree important, full of life, and therefore abounding in similitudes. But if the men who heard Him entered into more definite intercourse with Him, He proceeded to the use of other modes of teaching. He then spoke to them in parables, in adages or maxims, or in the free spiritual form of thought, in the form of didactic discourse. The relation between the thought and its sensible representation is always different in these three forms of teaching. In the parable the sensible representation decidedly predominates, and the thought retires into the background, although for thoughtful hearers it speaks through the powerful imagery of the parable. In the adage (Gnome) the image appears in living unity with the thought, the one penetrated by the other. Lastly, in didactic discourse the thought predominates, yet figurative allusions sparkle throughout the whole current of the discourse, in a manner suitable to the most living and richest spiritual utterances. We should now have to consider these three forms of teaching in the order stated, if it were not our business to dwell some time longer on the symbols. This will lead us to consider, in the first place, the two latter forms of teaching. Their contrast to the first decides this arrangement. We first of all see by what mode of teaching Christ mediated the truth among the consecrated and initiated, and then how He mediated it among the uninitiated. In the circle of those hearers who had a peculiar susceptibility for His doctrine, and followed Him with personal regard to the lonely mountain district, whom He therefore could regard as consecrated, Jesus taught many times in adages or religious maxims, in apophthegms which presented great truths in sharp, fresh, luminous forms, which oftentimes are more or less symbolic.1 The adage forms a sentence enclosed in itself and rounded off, the form of which is expressed with the sharpness and freshness of life like an accomplished human individuality, and its thought profoundly ideal and rich like the essence of a human personality, and in which this deep thought constitutes with this beautiful form a living unity like soul and body in an animated, speaking human countenance. The entire adage is form, and yet again it is altogether thought; a thought in luminous freshness; as in a precious stone the matter, the form, and the light appear in noble unity. With such jewels or pearls Christ presented the consecrated among His hearers. But to the initiated who had become His friends, Christ spoke in the free form of religious, spiritual expression, in the living dialectic style of instruction. As the spirit is exalted above nature, so is the pure, free utterance of the spirit exalted above the symbolic form. But the living spirit in its energy does not break away from nature in order to indulge in abstract thinking, but takes it into its life, transforms it, and causes it to bear witness of its own essence. And thus the Spirit of Christ shows itself in His teachings; they are intermixed with parables and apophthegms. But these parables rise immediately into the light of the great living thoughts by which they are illuminated and sustained. Thus Christ acted towards the children of the spirit. But He pursued quite a different course with the uninitiated. To such hearers, who were attracted by the power of His personality, or outwardly were for a long time attached to Him, but in whom a disposition of coarse worldliness and an impure interest more or less prevailed, He spoke in parables. Crowds of such men might gather round Him on the sea-shore from among the fishermen and publicans at Capernaum. But, especially at a later period, His adversaries at Jerusalem confronted Him with such dispositions as induced Him to teach in the form of parables. But on what account the Lord taught in parables before such uninitiated men, we shall learn from the very conception of a parable, as well as from His own distinct explanation. We shall also learn it from the effects which the parables continually produced. The parable is a figurative form of representation in discourse, which we must distinguish from other forms that have an affinity to it. All figurative forms rest upon the infinite abundance of comparisons which arise from the similarity and relationship of all phenomena, or rather from the unity of the spirit, which establishes all these similarities. All things are reflected in all things, since they are all allied to one another by their relation to the common basis on which they rest, and to the one object which they aim at, and to the one creative Spirit in whom they live (Romans 11:36). But the special mirror of the whole world is man, since the world appears concentrated in him; and the world is the counter-mirror of man, since his spirit’s inheritance extends throughout its immensity. Hence all comparisons are crowded into human life as their focus. Hence it comes to pass that man surrounds himself, by means of discourse and art, with images; in this manner he surrounds himself with signs of the ideality of the universe and of his own being. But the comparisons which man forms in his discourse may be exhibited in a well-defined series. First of all we are met by the similitude of fleeting appearance, or rather accord, that is, Metaphor. It is formed from the endless play of similarities, from the harmonious relations of the harp of the universe. It proceeds from the intimate relationship of the fundamental tones of life; but the most delicate glances and flashes of similarity are sufficient to produce it. Metaphors are the flowers of speech, the butterflies on the field of the spirit. Their number is legion; for as many million times as the heavens are reflected in the sea, all things are reflected in all, and especially in the spirit of man. Further, we meet with similitudes of a related form of life, namely, Allegories. Allegory represents one thing by another, another by another, in a definite, marked formation.1 But it connects the image and the object not in a purely arbitrary manner, but is conditioned by the similarity of the forms of life. Thus the four horsemen in the apocalyptic vision (vi.) riding on their four horses, one after another, are allegorical figures closely corresponding to the different forms of the course of the world. But if we go beyond the phenomena of life to contemplate the similitudes of the inner man, first of all similitudes of the natural or also of the moral sense come under our notice. They are represented by Fable. Fable is fond especially of representing the reverse side of the ideal, the accidental, the arbitrary and perverted. But how can evil find its like in nature since the substance of all things is good? Evil is certainly in itself null, dark as night, and only like itself. But evil is in the human world in nature-life, and assumes the form of nature-life, and also as disease assumes organic forms and modes in the human organism. By this likeness to nature which evil gains in man, it gains also its similitudes, and these exist most abundantly in the animal creation. In the animal creation very numerous reflections are to be found of human virtues and vices. Hence it is that fable often exhibits unideal human life in idealized animal life, or the animal similarities of man in the human similarities of the animal. When man loses the spirit and becomes like the animal, it is fair that the animal when it represents him should gain his faculty of speech. When Balaam lost the spirit, his ass gained the language of reproof, which represented his overborne conscience. Fable has indeed a wider range than the one we have noticed, but it is its constant peculiarity to exhibit the manifestations of the natural disposition of man. It lies in the nature of the case, that it seizes this disposition in its salient points, in its characteristic traits, and exhibits it with a touch of irony and with a moralizing tendency. It therefore frequently aims at improving the distorted side of the spiritual by the light side of the natural. For, as similitude, it aims at the adjustment of the disposition it represents with the whole world besides. But the ideal value is wanting to it, inasmuch as it wants the nature of man, the self-will, the moral obliquity, or even the moral principle. This value announces itself in the similitude of the ideal being, in symbol. The world in its state of rest, or as pure creation, is a system of divine ideas which proceed from the highest idea, the revelation of God in His Son, to branch themselves out and descend into the phenomenal world in definite ideal characteristics of life. On this truth rests the essence of symbol. Every phenomenon, namely, is necessarily a copy and sign of all ideal life which lies upon the same line with it in the direction of the Invisible. When, therefore, such a phenomenon is combined with the ideal being of which it forms an offshoot in the phenomenal world, a symbol is formed.1 If once a conception of this heavenly ladder has been formed, it will be easy to trace the lines of many phenomena into the Eternal. So a rock in its earthly appearance presents a firm front against the swelling sea, and is an image of firmness against the flood of human instability. In the apostolic rock-man (Peter), and in the Lord, who is a Rock, the ideal essence of it is found again. But the glorification and life’s fulness of this firmness appears in another symbolical application of stone, since it proceeds from stone to precious stone, and from this to the heavenly splendour of the mystic precious stones (Revelation 21:1-27) But the flowing sea is not only found again in the billows of the heathen nations (Psalms 93:4; Revelation 13:1), but also in the sanctified human life of the world, in the infinitely strong and wave-like sympathy of those who unfold their power only in the spirit of the Christian community (Revelation 19:6). The dew-drop, the tear of the earth, points upwards to the pearl, the pearl to human tears, and these to the pearls on the gates of the eternal city of God; glorified sorrow forms the entrance to the residence of eternal joy (Revelation 21:21). But in the same way of symbolic we may go from above downwards, when, setting out from the primary ideas of life, we descend and seek out the phenomena in which they are copied. Thus, for example, we can proceed from the four primary forms of the divine life of Christ in the world to the four Evangelists, and from these to the four cherubic life-images. So clearly and powerfully do those ideal primary lines go through the world; so distinctly does the Divine everywhere resound in significant symbols of the phenomenal world. The grain of wheat, the dove, the vine, and the marriage feast, are symbols of eternal verities in the kingdom of God. But since that Word in which the fulness of God is expressed, became flesh in Christ, so He is necessarily the symbol of all symbols, and surrounded by a garland of most expressive single symbols in which His own being is reflected. These symbolical relations are revealed by the world in its state of rest. But when contemplated in motion, it appears as the theatre of spiritual facts. These also are represented in figurative forms, and their similitude is the parable. This, therefore, is a form of discourse which represents in a sensible manner an universal, world-historical, religious and spiritual fact, by the exhibition of a special, related, or similar fact.1 Such are the parables of the Pharisee and publican, of the good Samaritan and other similitudes, which exhibit in single pictures never to be forgotten the greatest and most general religious and ethical facts. But in general the parable is formed in a situation, in which a single figure meets the teacher wherein he beholds that image of the moral world; and it is expressly designed to display to his hearers their whole spiritual position in the world as in a reflected image. The parable is therefore a practical view, by which the teacher causes his hearers to look into their entire spirit-world and its relation to opposite modes of spiritual life; and it may on this account be called a parable, because it suddenly places before the hearer, or circle of hearers, the living image of the world in which he may view himself. The parable constitutes the highest form of figurative similitudes in discourse. These similitudes, therefore, are seen by us in an ascending line. But here, as everywhere, it is in conformity to an ascending line that the elements of the lower form occur again in the higher, that therefore they are more or less prominent in it. Thus especially the symbolical element in some similitudes of Christ is almost exclusively prominent, and some features of the parable are always allegorical. The message which Christ sent to the Galilean prince Herod, who wanted to frighten Him from his country, is almost in the form of a fable. The fox wished to scare the Lion, and to chase Him from his haunts. From the nature of the parable, it is evident for what reason the Lord chose this form of teaching for His discourses, which was already familiar to the Hebrew mind, but which in Him attained to perfection. The parable, according to its nature, exhibits truth in a coloured light, which becomes indulgence to the weak, excitement to the sensuous, invigoration for purer eyes-which therefore, in every case, mediates the light of truth according to the varieties of mental vision. According to an opinion prevalent in modern times, which may be regarded as the modern view of the design of the parable, it seems exclusively to render the truth intelligible to the understandings of a sensuous people. According to this popular theology, parables are only a popular mode of instruction, illustrations which form a sort of picture-gospel for a docile, child-like, and sensuous people. But our Lord’s own statements respecting the design of parables (Matthew 13:13, &c.; Mark 4:11, &c.; Luke 8:10, &c.) go a long way beyond these pædagogical school views of the subject; even to the length of an awful reference to the judgment of God. According to the Evangelist Matthew, in answer to the disciples’ question, ‘Why speakest Thou unto them in parables?’ He said, ‘Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given. For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath. Therefore speak I to them in parables, because (ὅτι) they seeing see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand. And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which saith, By hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing ye shall see, and not perceive. For this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their hearts, and should be converted, and I should heal them.’ Jesus therefore applies the language in which the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 6:1-13) had described the obduracy of his contemporaries to the Jewish people of his own time. It was evident to the prophet in a former age, by divine illumination, that his preaching would have the effect of increasing the obduracy of his people; as this is always the effect of preaching if it does not make men better. But he saw at the same time that by this effect the design of his preaching was not frustrated, but that in an awful manner God’s design was fulfilled, and that for many persons that would be a judicial decree of God. Such a judicial decree Simeon also found in the advent of Christ (Luke 2:25), and not less so Christ Himself (John 3:19). He was aware of the decisive effect of His preaching, and knew that it would become a judgment-a savour of death unto death-through their own criminality. He sought, therefore, in his mercy to diminish as much as possible this danger in the effect of His preaching, by veiling the truth He announced to the people in parables, which gave to every one an impression of the truth according to the measure of his spiritual and moral power of comprehension, without driving him at once to extremities. Therefore Christ had not the design which the modern view attributes to Him, of imparting the truth to the people by parables in the clearest and plainest form possible.1 And on the other hand, still less could it be His design to propound parables in order to occupy His hearers with purely unintelligible discourses, or positively to contribute to hardening them. Had such a false predestinarian design influenced Him, the parables could not have had an enlightening effect, they would not have been preserved in the Gospels as a perpetual treasury of knowledge for the Church. According to the words of the Evangelist Mark (Mark 4:33), Jesus propounded the truth to the people very simply in parables, because it was only so they would hear it-that is, not merely apprehend, but apprehend and hear it; for which purpose this was the most suitable form. Hence He might have mentioned this reason simply to His disciples. Or He might have especially put forward the compassion with which He sought, by adopting this form of teaching, to ward off the hardening of the people. But this motive the disciples of themselves could more or less have recognized. On the other hand, they would not be so likely to be sensible of the divine judgment, which lay in the fact, that Jesus was under the necessity of treating the majority of His people as ‘standing without,’ and only by means of parable to instruct them in the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. But this fact especially occupied His thoughts. It was His greatest sorrow that He could not lay open His whole heart to His people-that He was obliged to communicate the message of salvation with a caution similar to what a physician would use in administering a remedy to a person in extreme danger of death. When, therefore, He was obliged to treat the greater part of the Jews, who ought to have been prepared to receive in a devout spirit all the mysteries of the kingdom of God, just like heathens, or even as enemies of the true sanctuary, who were prepared to profane the Most Holy (Matthew 7:6); when He felt with deepest anguish the awfulness of the divine retribution in this necessity of veiling from their view His divine treasures, and clearly perceived how close at hand was the judgment of the rejection of this people, it was natural that He should exhibit to the disciples this tragical side of His parabolic teaching, which they could not so easily discern. And when He explained to them more fully His motives for adopting this mode of teaching, we can easily conceive that the disciples would preserve in the most lively recollection the judicial divine motive, which He confidentially imparted to them, because it affected them most deeply, and because it was of the greatest service in explaining to them the later judgments that fell upon Israel. Evidently this reference of the Lord to the judgment of God was present to the minds of all the three Evangelists who report this explanation of Jesus. Nevertheless, their accounts seem almost to divide among them the different elements of the Lord’s declaration. Matthew’s report brings forward most plainly the design of Christ’s condescension to the capacity of His hearers, His didactic accommodation. In Luke’s brief account, the preventive motive, the design of repressing what was dangerous in the effect of the word, is most conspicuous (Luke 8:10): ‘but to others in parables, that seeing they might not see (ἵíá), and hearing they might not understand.’ Lastly, Mark in his account sets forth the judicial sentence of God in the strongest terms. He has so condensed the declaration of Jesus as it is found in Matthew, that the words with which Jesus explains His parabolic form of teaching, and the word which He adduces in illustration from the prophet Isaiah, exactly coincide. This representation is at all events inexact. But in essential points it does not affect the thoughts of Jesus. For the judicial design of God must ever have been present to the spirit of Jesus in some form or other, without disparagement to His own compassion; as indeed in God His judicial determinations are not at variance with His love. Therefore we can only inquire how the awful strictness of God’s judicial administration expressed itself in the spirit and parabolic teaching of Jesus? The solution is given in the words by which He marked the Jews as ‘them that are without.’ He was obliged to veil Himself before them as before strangers or profane persons. This, the spirit of truth required. And though He thus veiled Himself before them with the most vehement sorrow, yet He did it at the same time with the holiest decision, conscious and free. His language on this occasion harmonized with those decisive words (Matthew 7:23), which, with the declaration of the completed estrangement with which the wicked appear before Him, must also express the completed doom. Those persons who are accustomed to regard the parable merely as an idyllic, agreeable mode of conveying instruction to innocent children, of younger or older growth, must be startled at the awful seriousness of this explanation which Jesus gave respecting His parabolic style of teaching. And we must add, that not only is this painful seriousness shown in the choice of the parables, but also in the circumstance that He propounded them without explaining them to the people, and that it was particularly the doctrine of the kingdom of God which He was led to veil in this manner (Matthew 13:11).1 And the doctrine of the kingdom of God was exactly that in which Jesus differed most widely from the views of His nation. On that point He could not but disappoint their expectations. He therefore was obliged to use the greatest caution in His communications to the people on this subject. His crucifixion is a proof that He had not gone too far in His caution; and the destruction of Jerusalem proves that the people were no longer capable of receiving instruction respecting the true nature of the kingdom of God. We can explain the design of the Gospel parables by the effects which they produce in history. They serve to bring the highest and most glorious mysteries of the kingdom of God as near as possible to the sensually-enthralled human race-to represent in pleasant, attractive enigmas, forms of character never to be forgotten, and yet to guard them as much as possible from the profanation which would bring destruction on profane spirits. They operate, therefore, on a small scale, exactly as the world from which they are taken does on a larger. The whole world in its state of repose is to be regarded as a symbol, but in its state of motion as a parable of the divine essence. And as the Gospel parables have in reference to individuals a twofold operation, so also has the world on mankind collectively. It serves to conceal the essence of God from all impure eyes; and this concealment has its gradations continually increasing, so that the most impure eyes and the most profane dispositions lose God behind the world or in it, and sink down into Atheism. But this same world serves to unveil God to the gaze of the devout, so that they see the traces of His omnipresence shining forth with ever increasing lustre; and hereafter their purified hearts shall behold Him in perfection as all in all. Both operations of the world are great, extending over all ages, and designed by God. And yet they are not the effect of a double meaning belonging to the world, but rather proceed from its complete, pure simplicity. The eternal heavenly harmony of the world, ever like itself, is the cause of its producing an effect on every man in conformity to his own character. Thus it was with the parables of Christ-those special world-pictures which were destined to represent special spiritual facts relating to the kingdom of God. From this mediation results the mode in which Jesus accommodated Himself to the people. The rationalist theory of accommodation-namely, the hypothesis that Jesus, in order to gain the people, countenanced their erroneous notions-is shown by the majesty of His truthfulness and by the fact of His crucifixion to be a worthless and degrading view. That theory savours of Jesuitism and a dread of the Cross, and therefore of selfish considerations, to which Jesus was a stranger.1 But, on the other hand, if by the accommodation attributed to Him is understood that perfect wisdom in teaching with which He let Himself down to the popular mind, it is evident that, exactly in this pædagogical accommodation, His skill as a teacher, or, we may say, His special incarnation in the art of teaching, is exhibited. Here it is proper to remark, that Jesus could not feel Himself obliged to correct the popular notions which did not belong to the sphere of revelation, but merely related to unessential historical matters. It would even contradict the organic completeness of His ministry and teaching, if He had taught details that were extraneous to the connection of His work and the exigencies of His position-if, for example, He had been disposed to make disclosures respecting the world of spirits. So He complied with the more or less arbitrary, conventional assumptions and designations which belonged to the popular language, and without which He could not have discoursed intelligibly. But His inclination to substitute more significant terms for such as were conventional proved that He tested the most social types of tradition in His eternal spirit; and, with such an ever fresh consciousness of His truthfulness, it cannot be admitted that He allowed base coins to go through His hands, or false assumptions through His lips. Discourse in parables served first of all to exhibit the eternal in the temporal, and this was for a long time the predominant effect of it. But the more the nature of parables is thoroughly understood, the more will the impression be removed, that we have in them to do with arbitrary comparisons of things essentially different; we shall evermore recognize the essential relation between the similitude and its ideal world. But when the parable in general is viewed in this light, according to the sentence of the poet, ‘everything transitory is only a similitude,’ particular parables then also serve to glorify the temporal in the eternal, as before they glorified the eternal in the temporal So, for example, in the picture of the woman who searched for the lost piece of money, we see the divine valuation of the valuable, how it goes in anxious quest of it through all the world. In the hand of this careful housekeeper we shall see a ray of that sun beaming forth which seeks the lost. In the conduct of the faithful shepherd, who seeks for the lost sheep in the wilderness, and hazards his own life to recover it, we shall recognize the divine foolishness of that love which sacrificed the most glorious life in order to rescue sinners; which therefore does not calculate, and is not rational according to the notions of the earthly world, but whose irrationality is nothing else than the sublimity of the highest reason, which always goes hand in hand with love. Thus therefore the main features of the ideality of the world appear in the parables as it has its principle in Christ, and is to become manifest by the operation of His Spirit; or the first clearest signs of the parabolic character of the world, the primitive forms of the great world-parable in which God unfolds the riches of His Spirit and life.1 It lies in the nature of a parable that it can be contracted or enlarged, and that it is sufficiently flexible to allow sometimes one side and sometimes another to be prominent. So we find again in the Gospels several parables with various modifications.2 But these modifications cannot be regarded as fresh constructions of the same parable without displacing the proper point of view for judging of the parable. For in its formation we have to do, not with a beautiful, elaborated fiction, but with a life-image of the truth. When, therefore, a parable of Jesus corresponds to this object in its first draught, its later enlargement cannot be considered as a completion of it, but only as a modification which is designed to exhibit the truth pointed out in a new relation, in a fresh light. As little can it be admitted that tradition has remodelled the parables. They were impressed too powerfully in the remembrance of the apostolic Church as organic totalities for that to be possible. Yet we may conclude from the free individuality of the Gospels, that each Evangelist, according to the whole spirit of his conception, might allow some integral parts of a parable to retire, and place others more prominently in the foreground.3 The relationship of the parabolic form of teaching to unfigurative, didactic discourse appears in the parabolic discourses. We must not confound these with the parables properly so called. They are characterized by having the parabolic element mingled with the explanation in the flow of a continued discourse. The parable is therefore not given in its pure, exclusive form, detached from other matter; but its essential elements, its single images, form the leading thoughts of the discourse. This form of discourse embraces all single forms of imagery in living unity: flashing metaphors, ornate allegories, touches of fable, magnificent symbols, and parabolic figures form the splendour of the beautiful banks through which flows the deep thought-stream of parabolic discourse, and are reflected in its depths with all their colours and forms. And so this form is a copy of the great combination between the images of the divine in the world and the world-transforming thoughts of the Spirit of God. If we now look back and compare the parables of Jesus with His miracles, they will appear to us like those, as forms of the communication of His divine fulness to the poverty of the world, as mediating forms. But they are related to one another, not only according to their destiny, but according to their nature. The miracles of Jesus are visibly great single similitudes of His universal agency-similitudes in facts. His similitudes, on the other hand, disclose themselves as miracles of His word, when we recognize in them the ideal relation of essence between the eternal and the temporal. The miracle is a fact which comes from the word, and becomes the word. The similitude is a word which comes from the fact, and impresses itself in the fact. The common birthplace of these ideal twin-forms is therefore the world-creative and world-transforming Word. At the close of this examination we had to give a distinct representation of the parables according to their living connection. But the doctrine of the kingdom of God, which Christ announced and founded, forms this connection; and since we have to discuss this doctrine in the next section, we shall form the most correct estimate of the parables, if we contemplate them under the point of view just named, in their organic connection as similitudes relating to the founding of the kingdom of God. notes 1. Neander also has treated of the parables separately, with a reference to the thought that forms their basis, the founding of the kingdom of God. 2. Since art has to do with the ideal contemplation and representation of life, so imagery, as the reflex of the ideal in discourse, must be related to art. But in this relation metaphor reminds us of music, allegory of painting and the plastic art, fable of the drama (which by the ancients was also distinguished as fable), symbol of lyric poetry, and, lastly, parable of epic poetry and tales. Music is the image simply; it elicits from objective life the spiritual music of its infinitely powerful relationship to the heart. The plastic arts allegorize throughout; they exhibit ideal appearances in which homogeneous appearances in life are reflected. The drama is not only related to fable in this respect, that it causes the characters it exhibits to operate and exhibit themselves by speech, but also in this, that it allows their reciprocal action in general to come forth from the noble or ignoble nature-side of their life not yet elevated into the spirit. In lyric poetry, on the other hand, the meditating spirit always exhibits symbolically an ideal image of the world and of human dispositions; the lyrical element rises above the complexity of the drama. Epic poetry and tales, lastly, exhibit spiritual life-images in their practical movements like the parable. But the two lines of representation are distinguished in this respect, that the didactic images serve the practical object of discourse, while the artistical images represent life in a state of rest and enjoyment. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 81: 02.072. SECTION XI ======================================================================== Section XI the kingdom of god As we have already remarked, it is an absolutely false assumption, that Christ entirely rejected the Jewish expectations of the reign of the Messiah; or at least that He designed to establish a merely spiritual kingdom. In contrast to this notion, we must point to the fact that the spirit of the Gospels throughout favours the promise which was given to Mary, that the Messiah should rule for ever as a king on the throne of David (Luke 1:32-33), and similar expectations (Luke 1:69). The announcement with which John opened his ministry, that the kingdom of heaven was at hand (Matthew 3:2), was immediately repeated by Jesus (Matthew 4:17).1 And we cannot overlook the circumstance, that all the disciples of Jesus entered into His communion on the distinct understanding that He was about to found a kingdom (Matthew 18:1). But had Christ really purposed to found only a spiritual kingdom-in other words, not a kingdom, but a school-He could hardly with truthfulness have induced the men who came to Him with that expectation to join themselves to Him. Still less could He have yielded His assent to their supposition, as He really did (Matthew 19:28).2 Rather, He was conscious of being in the strictest sense the King of humanity, and of founding a kingdom, that is, a realm of God, to come hereafter into actual appearance, and completing itself in a visible community. Only in relation to the founding, the spirit, and the nature of this kingdom, He was obliged to hold Himself aloof from the expectation of the Jews. But it is indeed a false notion to imagine that all the Jews cherished a fully developed, carnalized, equally rude and low expectation of this kingdom. The expectation was originally a religious one, and therefore more spiritual or carnal according as the persons who cherished it had a higher or lower stand-point. Probably it was as multiform as in Christendom the idea of the nature of the Church. There could be no devout man in Israel who did not possess, in the Jewish shell of his idea of the kingdom, a christological kernel. Only thus was it possible for the Lord to engage the disciples as heralds of His kingdom (Matthew 10:7). He needed not to annihilate their expectation, but only to purify and transform it by the fire of regeneration. In this process of purification all were obliged to go through a great fire, and a Judas through his own criminality became dross; all the rest incurred the greatest risk. But they bore uninjured the certainty that Christ founded the kingdom, though fully purified by the flames. After the resurrection (Acts 1:6) and ascension (Acts 3:20-21) of the Lord, the confidence of the disciples bloomed afresh, that He would establish His eternal kingdom by their means; it was imperishable. Nevertheless the doctrine of Christ concerning His kingdom, differed, as we have said, so far from the prevalent conceptions of His people, that He saw Himself obliged to bring it near to them under the veil of parables. We can plainly distinguish a threefold cyclus of such parables. The first exhibits the kingdom of God in general, in its development. In the second and third, the essential forms of activity by which God completes His kingdom are pointed out. The second cyclus, namely, includes the parables respecting the mercy which founds and fills up the kingdom of God; the third contains the parables of the judgment, by means of which it is completed in its purity. Jesus delivered the parables respecting the kingdom of God in general, for the most part, to the multitudes on the shores of the Galilean sea; not all at once, but on different occasions.1 The first of these parables describes the sower scattering his seed on land consisting of very different kinds of soil, and of which the crop is regulated by the quality of the soil on which the seed is cast (Matthew 13:1-23; Mark 4:1-20; Luke 8:4-15). The general groundwork of the parable is the truth, that the culture of heaven is reflected in the culture of earth. God’s corn-field, mankind, is reflected as to its chief relations in the corn-field of mankind, the earth. The sower who makes his appearance in this parable is not some petty husbandman who cultivates a small enclosed piece of ground; his field is large, of various quality-an image of the earth, or rather of humanity. So we see that humanity is as distinctly and comprehensively cultivated by its sower, as the earth by man. ‘The word of the kingdom’ is everywhere expressed in its most general form. This is the first leading thought: the whole of humanity is God’s corn-field. But the second thought shows how God treats mankind justly and equally in the distribution of His seed. The seed of the word falls everywhere; the same seed falls on the stony ground and on the wayside that falls on the good ground. But the soil is very different. Even in a smaller piece of ground the difference exists. Besides the good ground, there are corners of the field trodden down-places where there is a want of soil above the rock, and places where there is a rank growth of thorns. On these differences the produce of the sowing depends. Only on the good ground does the seed thrive for the harvest. These relations are exhibited more fully on a large scale. Many cultivated tracts of the earth are trodden down, spoilt, gone wild; and there are in proportion only a few choice districts and cultivated grounds. And so it is in humanity, both on the great and small scale. In this lies the third leading thought of the parable. On the largest scale we see the different soils in the different religions. In Heathendom we see the trodden wayside: the seed of God which falls on this ground is immediately-since the heathen do not understand it (μὴ συνιέντος)-taken away by the fowls of heaven, by the wicked one. Corrupted Judaism exhibits the stony ground: here the seed sprang up quickly, but withered under the sun of tribulation, under the rays of the Cross. The ground where the good seed is choked by the thorns of worldly lusts, is the Mohammedan world. The good ground is Christendom. But even within the pale of Christendom there are again the same varieties of susceptibility; hearts which have been hardened by the repeated tread of evil, so that the seed of the word not received only rests on it outwardly, and is taken away by the first temptation of the evil one;-superficial souls, who received the word with a sudden enthusiasm, but remain unchanged in their radical disposition, and therefore easily fall away;-souls which are deeply involved in the cares and pleasures of the world, and therefore cannot surrender themselves to the highest. On these soils the seed thrives not. But yet the husbandman gains a clear profit from his sowing, a joyful harvest. The earth yields its increase, and so does humanity. God obtains His harvest from the good ground in humanity. The plan of the parable might easily have led to conceive of these differences of susceptibility in a fatalist sense. But this is not the Lord’s design. First of all, He obviates such a misinterpretation by changing men of different soils into men of different fallings of the seed. He speaks of that which is sown on the wayside, instead of the wayside on which it is sown; of that which is sown on the stony ground; and so on. According to this construction, men are the seed in various states; there is a life in them, and a human life according to the kind of men. Then it is said of the man of the good ground, ‘This is he that heareth the word and understandeth it;’ the activity of his spirit is rendered prominent. And when it is said, in conclusion, that the good ground bore thirty, sixty, or a hundred-fold, not merely the difference of the natural capacity, but likewise the free appropriation and application of the word is pointed out. In the definiteness of these numbers are represented the definiteness and harmony of the blessings, the living powers, of the kingdom of God. Thus God obtains His world-historical harvest in humanity on the good ground of chosen and faithful hearts. He therefore conquers the negative hindrances to His kingdom, those of the manifold defective and blunted human susceptibility. But His kingdom has also positive hindrances to overcome. This is shown by the parable of the tares among the wheat (Matthew 13:24-30; Matthew 13:36-43). The general symbolic of this parable consists in the delineation of the positive tendency to degeneracy and running wild which is shown in the life of the earth, and presents hindrances to its culture; and just so in the life of humanity. As in the ground, the noxious plants threaten to choke the noble cultivated plants; so in the life of humanity, the seed of corruption threatens the seed of salvation. Three leading thoughts proceed from this truth. This is first evident: the heavenly sower is opposed by a dark sower, his enemy; a noxious seed is placed in opposition to the good seed and threatens to choke it. Thus, therefore, not merely human weakness, unsusceptibility, and culpable defect are opposed to the kingdom of God. as in the first parable, but a kingdom of conscious wickedness whose point of unity is Satan, as the enemy of Christ, as the life-principle of all antichristianity. His sowing time is the night, when people are asleep. Under the protection of human weakness, the work of devilish wickedness flourishes. The seed which the enemy sows in the consecrated field, in which the wheat has already been sown, is darnel, a weed resembling wheat, but a positive weed, since it grows up between the wheat and endangers it. ‘The good seed are the children of the kingdom; but the bad seed are the children of the wicked one.’ Not men as men form the contrast, for Satan is no Ahriman who can form men, but men as they are become identical with the spiritual seed received into their inmost being. The wicked, therefore, are here described as the weeds as far as they are identical with the ‘offences’ (τὰ σκάνδαλα, Matthew 13:41) which check the growth of Christ’s good seed. Evidently these offences are the religious and moral heresies in the Church. They have in common a life-germ of demoniac origin, and an antichristian bias. They are collectively and separately the wheat-like darnel. The element of truth which in them is decomposed into falsehood, the form of doctrine which they assume, and the enthusiasm with which they are carried away-all this makes them have the semblance of the wheat of pure doctrine, and of the Christian life that is the product of that doctrine. But this darnel owes all its vital power to the fact, that men identify themselves with it until they exhibit it themselves, and therefore realize the antinomian principle (ἀνόμια) which lies in heresy. The greatest danger in the appearance of the darnel arises from its not springing up merely in one patch of ground, but growing through the whole corn-field, scattered in every part. In this manner it apparently threatens to destroy the whole crop, and this it is which so alarms the servants of the proprietor. Then we are introduced to the second leading thought of the parable. The servants wish to pull up the noxious plants; but their master orders them to let them grow with the wheat till harvest. The excitement of the servants proceeds first of all from their anger at the wickedness of the enemy: they wish to punish him by destroying his crop; and next, their zeal is roused for the cleanly state of the field, that it may be throughout free from blemish. Lastly, their fears are excited lest the darnel should choke the wheat, or even adhere to it and change it into darnel. But the master is superior to their excitement, for he sees that these zealous servants would be as dangerous to his crop of wheat as the enemy. In their passionate zeal they are not in a state to distinguish stalk for stalk between darnel and wheat, particularly as in the green shoots they are so much alike, the less they are developed. There is therefore great danger of their doing great damage to the crop of wheat in their attempt to weed it. But their master knew of a certainty that the wheat would remain wheat, and in time overtop the darnel; and the nearer the harvest approached, the more distinctly it would contrast with it, so that at last the wheat would be most easily separated from the darnel. In this feature of the parable the great thoughts of the Lord respecting His kingdom are contained. The servants of the sower have in history proved it a thousand times by the fact, that the darnel and the wheat cannot be distinguished with sufficient exactness. How often have the purest doctrines been execrated as noxious weeds; how often have the children of the kingdom been condemned as darnel and committed to the flames! In such cases the servants have assisted the enemy himself: their hatred of men has been kindled by his; his unbelief has inflamed the unbelief in them which imagined that the seed of Christ could be destroyed; they had lost the repose of spirit and the clearness of vision which beheld the glory and righteousness of their Lord. These zealots in the wheat-field commit violence, contrary to the express commands of their Lord. He knows that the false heart will always form false doctrine, and false doctrine will always find a congenial soil in false hearts, which assimilate themselves to it, and thus the noxious plant must complete its history. It must ripen till harvest,-then the entire worthlessness and noxiousness of its seed will be discovered. How otherwise could it be perfectly judged at the last judgment? But to the Lord it is equally certain that pure doctrine will always find true hearts; that it will be ever retained and flourish in congenial dispositions till the day of harvest, when the whole crop will be ripened in the life of the children of the kingdom. The precious seed and its precious operations, and the precious souls,-that is, the precious seed of Christ in the Gospel, the precious seed of the Spirit in the Church, and the precious seed of the Father in the creation,-will ever meet together and form a wheat-field, which, though outwardly intermixed with darnel, yet remains true to its destiny, and will certainly reach it. There is one more consideration which the parable could less definitely express. That seed of light and the opposite seed of darkness both find a susceptible soil in humanity. But it does not follow that some hearts have originally only a disposition for the darnel and others for the wheat. In this relation the most numerous intermixtures, fluctuations, and transitions take place, and it is not well to pass a final judgment during this stormy season of development. Even erroneous doctrine and the truth itself, during this intervening period, are found in such an intermixture, not in themselves, but in the heads and opinions of men, that even in doctrine the wheat and the noxious plants cannot be perfectly and in all their parts separated from each other till the end. The harvest-time is here that terminus where heresies have set themselves as completed scandals, as principles of destruction against the truths of the Gospel, the principles of salvation, and where men who advocate the contrary to these principles have at length become identified with them, so that judgment must follow. From this significance of the final judgment, we may understand in what sense Christ has required His servants to tolerate the darnel-crop during the present life. In the law of the Old Testament theocracy the punishment of death was inflicted on false prophets. Religious zeal might erroneously transplant this law and apply it in a manner most detrimental to the very essence of this economy, by concentrating all the elements of this theocratic typical process against the false prophets. This took place when such zeal placed on an equal footing mistaken opinion with erroneous teaching, and erroneous teaching with fixed heretical dogma, and this with actual social outrage, and outrage with a capital offence, and this with the offending soul; and, accordingly, at one stroke instructed, refuted, excommunicated, tried, condemned, and everlastingly damned the real or supposed heretic. In this way, forsooth, has the Old Testament typical law been expounded and practically enforced by the hierarchy of the Christian Church. In opposition to the horrible judicial arrogance of such servants, whose minds have been darkened by the fear of the devil and the hatred of men, the Lord requires the toleration of the darnel in His wheat-field. But this toleration cannot signify an absolute impunity to evil; but only a holy keeping apart of the momenta we have mentioned. The passing error should only be corrected, for it is sufficiently ripe for that (James 5:19). Distinct erroneous doctrine should be refuted, and its teachers punished by admonition; for this purpose are the angels of the Church there (1 Timothy 4:1-6). Fixed antichristian dogma must be excluded from the Church, with its promulgators, for it has become a scandal to the consciousness of the Church (Galatians 1:9). The offender against the laws of social order must be judged (Romans 13:4), and he who is chargeable with a capital crime must atone for it with his life (Matthew 26:52). But no one must be condemned and rooted out of the Church as a noxious plant; for only at the last judgment can this judgment be passed by holy beings, by the impartial angels, and the judgment of Christ Himself. Thus Christ wills toleration as an infinite energy of patience, which must come forth for ever new in His congregation, from the purest reciprocal action between the spirit of righteousness and the spirit of mercy; and with this, the last principle of this parable is announced. There is coming such a complete separation of all impure and pure elements, of all that is Christian and antichristian in humanity, as certainly as harvest-time follows seed-time; and that harvest-time comes as a sudden great epoch at the completion of the development of the seed. Then will men be treated in judgment like the principles with which they have identified themselves. This identification on the Part of the good is a complete one, for a man can become altogether one with the light; but with darkness he cannot altogether become one, for identification with evil, in which evil men become individual scandals, is an incomplete, a crying contradiction, an internal laceration, and fiery torment, which in itself is a judgment, and to which, as an outward judgment, the fire of hellish relations corresponds, into which the wicked will be thrown, and in which they will burn. That the noxious plants are gathered into bundles before they are burnt, points to the bringing together of the bad by their separation from the good, as it forms one part of their judgment. But the good form a wheat-harvest, in which all will become living bread for all, a world of ideality, in which all will be upheld and borne by all in the eternal brightness of life-the pure produce of the development of humanity. One great fact of the kingdom of God is here depicted, when it is said, that after the separation of the darnel from the wheat, the righteous shall shine forth as the sun. The release of the pure Church from the pressure which, by the mixture of its members with the antagonist members, weighs down their souls, must have the effect of giving them an infinitely powerful and delightful elevation. The Lord adds to this promise the words which always arouse the attention to an important communication, ‘Whoso hath ears to hear, let him hear.’ The third parable (Mark 4:26-29), represents in a very striking manner the gradual development of the kingdom of God in time. This kingdom is bound to a rhythm, the succession in time of the development of nature. No sooner is the seed sown, than the growth proceeds of itself agreeably to nature, without incessant toil and anxiety on the part of the husbandman. He cannot bring on the harvest before its appointed time; he must quietly wait, and so it certainly comes to him. But it comes when the seed has gone through all its forms of existence, till it appears in the last stage of ripened corn. First the green blade shoots forth, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear, and last of all the ripe grain. This beautiful parable shows that the kingdom of God, not only in its widest extent, but in the individual soul, requires time and patience for its development, and that the seed of God grows quietly and surely, day and night, wherever it is in the right soil. At the same time the important thought is presented, that we ought rightly to estimate all the forms of development in the kingdom of God-the green field of hope in its youthfulness, as well as the time when the Gothic spires rise towards heaven as do the high-pointed, but not yet full ears; and the time when the stalks become heavier, and the heads droop, as the time of harvest, when all is shining in the golden light of joy. After the development of the kingdom of God in time, its development in space, its spread in the world, is depicted in the parable of the grain of mustard-seed (Matthew 13:31-32; Mark 4:30-32; Luke 13:18-19). The kingdom of God in its beginning is the smallest of all seeds; but in its unfolding it is the greatest of herbs, a real tree, so that the birds of heaven come and make their nests in its branches. In its beginning, therefore, it is remarkably small; in its development, remarkably large-its extension in space is wonderful. And thus the kingdom of God has actually been extended. The earthly appearance of Jesus was the wonderful small grain of mustard-seed but the plant which sprang from this germ is ever spreading itself throughout the whole world. The same thing is true of the seed of the kingdom of God in the breast of the individual: a single word of God, which lies, as it were, buried in the depths of the soul, spreads itself by degrees as a tree of life through his whole inward and outward life. This certainty and power of expansion belonging to the kingdom of God indicates also a preponderance of power by which it overcomes all earthly opposition. This specific preponderance of the life of Christ over the whole natural life of the world, is expressed in the parable of the leaven (Matthew 13:33; Luke 13:20-21). The leaven is simply and invariably a match for the dough. Let only a small quantity of it be mixed in three measures of meal, and as it were buried deep in it, yet it will penetrate and leaven the whole heap, and change its nature into its own nature. With the same certainty Christianity gains the mastery over the natural life of humanity, as it is buried both in the nature-fulness of the world and in the nature of a single individual whose inner man is affected by it. This perfectly certain, victorious power of the Christian principle is here depicted; not merely its imperceptible, quiet, gradual operation, though this quiet, imperceptible delicacy of its action is contained in the parable. But at the same time the parable declares the circumstance, that Christianity with this preponderance must christianize humanity. As, on the one hand, the leaven is different from the dough, so is Christianity from the natural life of men. Therefore it cannot allow this life to retain its old character. And as, on the other hand, the leaven bears an intimate relation to the dough, so does Christianity to the essential life of man, and therefore can and must mingle with it. But that is a higher potency of the dough. On the certainty of this fact rests the confidence of the woman who kneads the leaven into the meal; she knows that owing to its superior power it must transform the dough into its own nature. In like manner Christianity is a higher potency of humanity, and on that rests the confidence of the Church, which, with its weak hand, performs the same office in spiritual things as the woman in earthly things, when it infuses the life-power of Christ into the blood and life of humanity.1 But this preponderance of the Church is no natural necessity for individuals in the world, so that they would become Christians without knowing how. They may be outwardly christianized by that leavening influence of Christianity without becoming Christians in their individual inward life. For individuals in the world, Christianity remains continually a mysterious, hidden treasure. At the best, they are aware of its existence as a hidden, far-distant treasure, celebrated by report. Whoever finds it may esteem himself fortunate in the highest degree; for in this discovery God’s highest freedom co-operates with the highest free agency of man. When a man has found this treasure, he recognizes it as the highest good of his life; he gives up everything in order to gain the divine good of individual, vital Christianity. Thus the world-historical Christianity becomes individual. These relations are pointed out by the treasure hid in the field (Matthew 13:44) and by the pearl of great price (Matthew 13:45). The two parables resemble one another in this point, that they show how Christianity must be first found by the individual; how it becomes his portion in concentrated unity. as the highest good of life, and desired as an absolute, new, and heavenly life-treasure, so that the man is ready with joy to resign his ancient life-treasure, in whatever imaginary good it might consist, and at the same time his own self-will, with which he clung to that treasure. This surrender is represented under the image of purchase-money, in part allegorically, and in part symbolically. It is only allegory when it is said that man gains the pearl of great price by the surrender of his earthly comforts; for this surrender cannot be considered as the payment of the purchase-money, but only as the removal of obstacles, as the fulfilment of conditions: yet the description is, in its internal sense, symbolical; when man surrenders himself and his old life-image to God in faith, he gains, in the vital exchange of love, a participation of the life of God. He gains Christ, the treasure hid in the field, the pearl of great price; and if he possesses the most precious pearl in its unity, he no longer seeks the inferior pearls in their multiplicity, which, compared with that pearl, are valueless. But though no one receives the treasure of Christianity otherwise than on the condition of a pure surrender, yet there is a great difference in the way and manner by which individuals obtain it. In one case the superintendence of grace which makes a man the happy finder is conspicuous in all its nobleness. Most suddenly he lights upon the treasure in the field, and from a poor day-labourer becomes a wealthy Man 1:1 In the other case his discovery is the final result of a long, conscious striving. He was a merchant whose attention was directed to precious pearls, and who gladly laid out his property on the choicest goods of life; who perhaps sought his satisfaction in the pleasure resulting from high morality, the cultivation of the fine arts, of literature, and of science. He was seeking for goodly pearls; he finds the one pearl of great price. This merchant is also a finder to whom the highest blessing of Heaven, grace, is propitious. But his long seeking, the mediation of finding by a higher striving, is made more conspicuous. On the other hand, the favour of Heaven came suddenly on the first finder, although he was unconsciously a seeker, a man who was digging the field for the sake of bread. As the free saving agency of the grace of God in the reconciliation of man is set forth in the parable of the treasure hid in the field, so is the noblest striving of man in it by the parable of the pearl of great price.2 The last parable in this cyclus is that of the net cast into the sea, and enclosing all kinds of fish (Matthew 13:47-50). When full, it it drawn on shore. The fishermen sit down and gather the good into vessels, but cast the bad away. The explanation of this parable shows, that the judgment is represented under a new point of view. The judgment had already been spoken of in the parable of the darnel and the wheat; but the leading thought of that parable was the necessity of tolerating heretical spirits, and the judgment itself appeared principally as a separation of offences and their perpetrators. But here the distinction between the good and the bad, the elect of humanity and its refuse, is represented unconditionally in the contrast of the good and the bad fish. The net is the Church in its widest extent, as the institution which, in its consummated operation at the end of the world (ἐν τῇ συντελείᾳ τοῦ αἰῶνος), embraces the whole world, and has continually embraced it according to its ideal significance as the glory of Christ’s kingdom. The judgment here appears from the point of view which regards the correct estimate of the essential worth of individuals. The righteous form collectively an essential heaven; the wicked, an essential hell; and the separation is made accordingly. Here also the judgment of the wicked is marked by their being cast into the fire where is wailing and gnashing of teeth.1 All the parables in this cycle show to what extent Christ deviated from the Jewish representations of the Messianic kingdom, and combated them. According to the Jewish preconception, the heavenly sower had cultivated and sown only a small field in the wilderness of the world, the people of Israel, who bore the best fruits in the fidelity of their observances. This corn-field, according to the false notion of the Jews, was pure enough; but all round there grew a crop of noxious plants, the heathen world. At the most, there appeared in those opposed to the one Jewish sect but one kind of noxious plants; but when this appeared distinctly in the shape of individual opinion, they inflicted stoning in order to exterminate it. Neither the metamorphoses of the kingdom of God as depicted in the third parable, nor its extension, as in the fourth, suited their system. The doctrine of the vital operation of the kingdom of heaven as portrayed in the parable of the leaven, agreed not with their system of traditions; still less could they admit, in their self-righteousness, that each one among them must enter the kingdom of heaven through a special act of grace in his individual experience. The judgment, they imagined, would consist in the exaltation of the Jews and the punishment of the Gentiles; this momentous separation was, in their opinion, completed long before outwardly. Thus, in one word, the whole difference was decidedly exhibited between the completely pure original Christianity and totally decayed Judaism in all these doctrines of the kingdom. It was only in parables that the people could endure such severe Christian truths. By means of the three last parables of the first cycle, the two following cycles are already announced. If here, in the parables relating to the agency of mercy, the traits of judicial righteousness come forth at first gently, but afterwards more powerfully; and if again, in the parables relating to judgment, the traits of redeeming grace and love are constantly to be found, we are not to be surprised. For these fundamental forms of the divine administration are not antagonistic to one another. Bather we may affirm, that one is a necessary complement of the other, and that they build up the divine kingdom in living co-operation. This twofold aspect of the parables we are about to consider, may in some instances make it doubtful whether we are to place them in the second or in the third group; in such cases, we must pay particular attention to the leading thought of the parable. It accords with Luke’s peculiar predilection, that he has collected most of the parables that illustrate the administration of mercy. These parables the Lord was especially induced to bring forward, when, towards the close of His ministry, He came into frequent collision with the Pharisees, and had to censure their unloving disposition. The first of these parables is a noble portraiture of mercy, which very properly opens this cycle; namely, the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37). By means of this parable, Jesus explained to the scribe, who wished to tempt Him, who was his neighbour. The, man who, according to our Lord’s representation, falls among thieves between Jerusalem and Jericho, is a Jew from the metropolis. His neighbours in the Jewish sense are the priest and the Levite, who heartlessly hurry by him as he lies half-dead. The Samaritan who travels the same way is, according to the Jewish prejudice, not his neighbour, and he dare not promise himself any help from him. But generous pity moves his breast as he sees the Jew lying there half-dead, The latter must be glad, that in such a plight a Samaritan salutes him, lifts him up, binds his wounds, and pours in oil and wine. He readily consents to be placed on the beast of the reputed unclean stranger, and to be taken by him to the inn. He must acknowledge such a deliverer to be his neighbour, and, ashamed and overcome by his noble-mindedness, must also become the neighbour of his deliverer. With wonderful skill Christ has so put the case, that no choice is left to the scribe, but he must himself condemn his Jewish prejudice. No feature of the parable is impossible. An orthodox Jew from Jerusalem might fall among thieves. There are priests and Levites who would be heartless enough to pass by him without sympathy; it is very possible that a Samaritan might pity and help him. And such traits of character are frequently to be found in real life. But the reality is always a judgment on that hatred of heretics which eradicates universal philanthropy and the love of our neighbour. It is not a Samaritan whom the priest allows to be in his blood, but a Jew. The priest, with cold selfishness, is conscious of his elevation above this layman, although he was of the same confession. The Levite also prides himself too much on his peculiar temple-purity. Even the Jewish innkeeper is not altogether free from the charge of heartlessness, for he allows the Samaritan to pay for his Jewish brother. How striking and how awfully true are these traits of inhumanity, as it begins to operate in regions where fanaticism leads to the hatred of those of a different faith! Such fanatics cannot be content with striking down the Samaritan, and leaving him in his blood. They rob one another, and strike one another half-dead; and their very priests and Levites leave the unhappy man who has been attacked by robbers lying in his blood; and all this within the circle of one and the same fanatically excited confession. Thus the Jewish nation, in the last war before the destruction of Jerusalem, was overrun by robbers and fanatics, the same persons being often both. No consecrated institution holds men together any longer, where love has grown cold, and is even regarded as a sin. In the circle of such heartlessness, every person is an obscure separatist, and every family a sect in opposition to the great universal Church of grace and mercy, and scarcely is the nearest, to say nothing of those at a distance, regarded as a neighbour. But calamity comes forth, on the one hand, with giant steps, and plunges the fanatic into misery; on the other hand, mercy conducts the differently minded, and makes him an angel of deliverance for him. Thus the holy, inalienable humanity of benevolence and compassion breaks down those barriers of religious and national animosity, by which man in his selfishness can fancy that he does honour to God by his nation or his creed, while he has become worse than a heathen in his disposition. And as far as this humanity exerts its influence, and establishes a higher intercourse between calamity and mercy-as far as this pure unselfish human love reaches, it is manifest that man, simply as such, is neighbour to man, as far as he is man, as far as he can receive and return love. The good Samaritan is in all his features an image of the freest and richest mercy; and this has given occasion to find in this parable an allegory of the love of Christ. Christ too was, in the eyes of the pharisaical Jews, an unclean person, a heretic; and He it was who rescued prostrate, half-dead humanity from sin, while the priests and Levites never vouchsafed a glance at the deep wounds of their race. Thus the first parable delineates the mercy of love in its most general form, embracing all opposites, and overcoming all obstacles. The parable of the man who made a wedding feast, in the first form in which Luke presents it (Luke 14:16-24, compared with Matthew 22:1, &c.), is also, as we have already mentioned, predominantly a parable of mercy. The insulting behaviour of the persons who were first invited, who betrayed by their paltry excuses their contempt of the invitation, called forth, of course, the anger of the householder. But this anger revealed itself again as the ardour of an invincible love: he was angry, and sent forth his servants to invite other guests, till his house should be full of the poorest and meanest. And he resolved, in accordance with justice and honour, that ‘none of the men that were bidden shall taste of my supper.’ The banquet of this noble-minded personage represents the blessedness of the Christian spiritual life. Jehovah is the giver of the banquet. He had long before invited guests. The Israelites had been prepared for the great banquet, and had been invited to it. But the latter summonses must be distinguished from the first invitation; now the feast was ready. These summonses coincide with the advent and ministry of Christ. But now the invited, as if preconcerted from the first, began to make excuse. The excuses of these persons are excused in a foolish manner,1 contradictory to the spirit of the parable, when the text is explained thus: that the first and second wished to settle their purchases; and when, as to the third, it is observed that the newly married Israelites, according to the law, were free for a year from military service (Deuteronomy 24:5). These excuses must from the first appear as worthless, and indeed contain their own refutation. For temporal and worldly business does not in itself prevent man from being a guest in the kingdom of heaven, but bondage of the will, the tumult of the passions by which he is impelled, and the confusion of a worldly mind, as it appears in all imaginable forms. This confusion is shown in this, that the two first, having made their purchases, wished to inspect them at night-time, when all field boundaries are obscure, and all cattle are black; and that the third has been made a vassal by his wife, which means more in the East than in the West. The earthly mind in its various forms makes men unsusceptible for the spiritual life of the kingdom of heaven; particularly as delight in earthly possessions, represented here by ‘the piece of ground,’ and in the love of power is symbolized by brandishing the goad over five yoke of oxen; and lastly, as slavish sensuality and surrender to men in love and fear, perversities which the hindrance arising from marrying represents. The subtle forms of opposition to the Gospel as they met the Lord in Pharisaism and Sadduceeism are everywhere animated by these various elements of the worldly mind. The offence against the giver of the feast consisted in breaking the word of promise made to him, and that his kindness was treated with contempt by worthless excuses precisely at the most joyous event in his life. But yet he gratified his ardent desire to make a festival. We cannot hesitate to understand by ‘the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind,’ whom he caused to be invited in haste from the streets and lanes of the city, in the first place, the ‘publicans and sinners,’ in contrast to the Pharisees. And when the servant is sent out of the city to invite the people who were lying about in the highways and hedges, this must apply to the Samaritans and heathens in contrast to the Jews in general. The hedges may refer to the extreme borders of Judaism, and to its being fenced in, as it were, from the Gentiles who were situated on the borders of the Israelitish territory. But here again, in the outward contrast an inner one is reflected. The Pharisees and Jews are in this case only the representatives of the worldly happy and the worldly-minded throughout the world; the publicans, Samaritans, and heathen, on the other hand, represent the poor in this world, the souls who are longing for the blessings of the kingdom of heaven. These poor persons, who could scarcely conceive of so high an invitation, the giver of the feast causes to be earnestly invited, yea, compelled to come in. Yet we must not impute to them a spirit of resistance against entering the house of the Church, which is to be overcome by force, as fanaticism has interpreted the passage; but simply the hesitation of joyful surprise in humble minds, who deem themselves unworthy of such an invitation. Thus the house of the divine liberality is filled with guests who can celebrate the feast of love and of the spirit; the worldly happy remain without. The love, generosity, and mercy which are depicted in this parable are shown in the next place as redeeming grace, which is not only applied to the suffering and the poor, but equally to the lost. It is thus exhibited in the parables of the lost sheep, the lost piece of money, and the prodigal son. In all the three parables, that overflowing, wonderful, self-sacrificing inspiration of love is delineated, which to the earthly mind must appear as foolishness. The shepherd risks the ninety and nine sheep in the wilderness, and even his own life, in order to rescue and recover the lost sheep; and his rejoicing on having found it far exceeds the pecuniary value of the sheep. And the very pains with which the woman who had ten pieces of silver seeks to recover the lost piece, and the joy with which she tells her neighbours of its fortunate recovery goes far beyond the bare value of the coin. But the father, who sees his lost son returned, prepares a feast such as he had never prepared for the elder son who had remained at home with him. So wonderful, even to the miraculous, is love, that even the angels of God, in all their number and glory, can ‘rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.’ Yet is this apparently foolish love, divinely wise grace. Mercy also acts with ail the motives of wisdom. It came, in the person of the Son of man, to seek what was lost. When anything that God has made is lost in His world, a violation of the divine order is involved, against which not only love but also wisdom enters the lists. The beautiful completeness of his flock is lost to the shepherd, to make up the number one hundred; and the woman also dwells upon the round number of her savings-that she had exactly ten pieces of silver. The deficiency is so painful, especially in the father’s house, where one of two sons is wanting.1 Therefore the consideration of the whole guides mercy when it seeks for the single lost one. The divine regard for the symmetry and beauty of the eternal temple causes the divine love to exert itself about this or that stone in the structure. But there is also consideration of the individual, of its life and value. A lost sheep is indeed, as lost, a very poor creature; but the shepherd values it as a sheep of his flock; he gives it not up to the wolf; he pities its unhappy life in its wanderings and distress. The lost piece of money lies in the dirt, tarnished and useless; but still it is a coin composed of a noble metal, and stamped with the image of a prince. But the value of the lost son which remains to him in all his degradation, consists in his being the nearest relative of his father, that his being is derived from his father’s being. Thus grace seeks to deliver the lost sinner, partly on account of the relation in which, according to the divine destiny, he stands to God and to the eternal family of God; but also on his own account, because he is an unhappy being, because in his nature (Substanz) he has an unchangeable value, and because he is originally of divine descent. The parable of the lost son is a gospel in the Gospel. It has been said, that here is reconciliation without mediation through Christ, and so it has been erroneously assumed that every parable must exhibit the whole rule of faith; the parable of the lost sheep and its shepherd is already forgotten; and in this of the lost son, it is not understood what is meant by the father’s running to meet him with agitated heart, and falling on his neck and kissing him. The divine salutation in the heart of the returning sinner, the first blessed feeling of grace, is here exhibited in the most beautiful manner.1 Every stroke is to the life. The youngest son loses his inheritance, by separating through mere selfishness his own property from his father’s, withdrawing from his father into the paths of worldly pleasures, and squandering his property in the indulgence of sensual lusts. He is punished by famine, by the want of the peace of God in the land of vanity, and by the lowest degradation, that he, an Israelite, must prolong his life in a most dishonourable existence, as swine-herd of a heathen, a most servile and disgusting occupation-till at last he must vainly wish to live upon the swine’s fodder, and therefore sank into a depth of misery, which made the lot of the most unclean animals an object of envy. But by these means his awakening is brought about. This is expressed with admirable beauty: ‘he came to himself’ (εἰò ἑáõôὸí הὲ ἐλθ‏í). He reflected on the happy lot of the hired servants at his father’s, and resolves, ‘I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants!’ The hired servants were not the offspring of his father. If we are not disposed to consider them as merely allegorical figures, which is precluded by the fact that their happy condition made so deep an impression on the prodigal, their tranquillity denotes the tranquillity of creation, particularly of the irrational creatures, which formed so lively a contrast to the miserable state of the distracted sinner, and admonished him to turn from his evil courses. The confession, ‘I have sinned against Heaven,’ is very significant; by every sin a heavenly nature is violated and disturbed. Compassionate grace could not be depicted in a more striking manner than is shown in the conduct of the father. The lost son brings the confession of his guilt before him; but grace has expelled the gloomy element in his repentance; the petition, ‘Make me as one of thy hired servants,’ has died in his heart. He cannot affront the father with this monkish or slavish sigh of distrust. But the father reinstates him joyfully in his filial dignity: orders his servants to put on him the best robe, and a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: he must be seen again in the full array of sonship. Then he commands them to kill the fatted calf, and to prepare a feast, because this son who was dead, is alive again; he was lost, and is found.1 He therefore prepared for him a feast of restoration with the highest joy, devotion, and distinction. The elder son forms a difficult element of this parable. It seems a contradiction that he should be contrasted with the lost son as remaining at home, and should yet be irritated with his father for showing compassion to his brother. But if we closely look at it, traces of the same lost condition will gradually show themselves in the secret recesses of his soul, with which he upbraided his younger brother. In his legal good conduct he is outwardly unblameable, but inwardly he is not more in harmony with his father. He is not of one mind with him in mercy; he no longer knows his father’s property to be his own; he is not dutiful to him; he even refuses to go into his father’s house, where the feast for the return of his brother is celebrated, so much is he offended at the festive sound of the music and at the dancing. How strikingly is this feature apparent in the conduct of the Jews when the Gentiles became Christians! They went with heathenish rancour out of their Father’s house in which grace celebrated their redemption-feast. And for a long time the elder son cherished a secret embittered feeling against the Father; for he fancied that he had served Him so many years, and never transgressed His commandment, but the Father had never yet estimated his conduct according to its merits. It is evident that he had no inward delight and joy, from his morose external correctness of deportment. A fearful truth lies in the words, ‘Thou hast killed for him the fatted calf; yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I should make merry with my friends.’ He never found a real feast of soul in his legality. But, in truth, he fain would have made merry without idea and occasion, as his brother had done in a foreign land; this now comes out with his chagrin. With a feast of the spirit he had nothing to do; this is proved by his ill feeling towards the feast for his brother. His last words are full of bitterness and falsehood. ‘But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf (Luke 15:30). He was unwilling to call the returned prodigal his brother, though obliged to recognize him as his father’s son. He exaggerates and misrepresents his irregularities, and describes the expense of the feast as an excessive indulgence of the prodigal, and wastefulness. He even depreciates his father’s character; and his own degeneracy, which had been hitherto concealed under outward propriety of conduct, now comes to a head. Thus mere outward righteousness is always brought to shame when it sees the feast of grace. It cannot endure the sight of sinners being saved by grace. In the tumult of envy which this spectacle arouses, all the selfishness, coarseness, and depravity which had been hitherto concealed, break forth. The history of the Jews in the days of the Apostle Paul proves this; and the history of the hierarchy in Luther’s time on the large scale, while on the small scale it has been repeated a thousand times. Thus, for example, a feeling of chagrin may be observed in many sanctimonious rationalist writings respecting the conversion of Augustin, and his high reputation in the Christian Church. The elder son is a character that perpetually recurs in the history of the kingdom of God. But it was not within the scope of the parable to narrate the sequel of his history. His fall first became visible when that of his brother was retrieved by grace. This grace also calmly confronted his perversity with soothing and admonitory words. The divine mercy is as much illustrated by the closing words of the father, with which he admonished the elder son, as by the joy with which he hastened to meet the younger. The parable of the prodigal son is plainly reflected in the parable of the Pharisee and publican (Luke 18:9-14). The two forms which stand in presence of the grace of God in such different frames of mind, again make their appearance. But the elder son here develops himself fully in his self-righteousness, and the younger stands before us in the attitude of ripened repentance. This advance, however, is not the only difference of the two parables; for a turning-point is here introduced, since a man is depicted as praying with such complete success as to obtain the redeeming grace of God. We must here connect several parables with one another as representations of the life of prayer, by which man becomes sure of the grace of God and of all its aids. The parable already mentioned forms the beginning. From the connection we gather that the publican is the principal person in it, as is also shown by the structure of the conclusion. Christ spoke this parable ‘to certain which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others.’ It has been remarked, that, since a Pharisee is introduced in this parable, Christ could not have addressed it to the Pharisees, for in that case the form would have been unsuitable. But on this hypothesis, no publican could have ventured to be present at its delivery, nor any priest or Levite at that of the parable of the good Samaritan. Since the figure of the Pharisee was not chosen to put into the shade any individual of that sect, or the sect itself, the question appears to be unimportant, whether the Pharisees were present or not at the delivery of this parable. The parable recognizes, indeed, that the Pharisee had the pre-eminence of dignity and conformity to the law, before the publican: he is with propriety placed first. It is not his zeal for the law in itself that brings him into a disadvantageous position, but the delusion that by this zeal he was righteous in God’s sight. With emphasis it is said that he stood thus in the temple and prayed by himself.1 He thanked God that he was not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican; and then he tells what he really is-he fasts twice a week, and gives tithes of all that he has. This shocking poverty of the feeling of life, which would make out of two useless excesses of a religious and civil legality the true riches of life, and even a righteousness before God, shows his character. The keynote of his prayer is contempt of other people; and the worst thing in it is, that he condemns the publican personally while celebrating his own reconciliation with God. The publican was an Israelite as well as he, and had an equal right to enter the temple. But, bowed down by the consciousness of his sinfulness, he did not venture to go far into the sanctuary. The sanctuary reproved him as the visible majesty of God, and perhaps the Pharisee himself appeared to him as a cherub who threatened to hinder his entrance into paradise. He would not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, not even his hands, but smote upon his breast, saying, ‘God be merciful to me a sinner!’ The judgment of Christ follows this contrast: ‘I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other; for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.’ Thus, then, man obtains grace in the way of sincere humiliation before God, and of believing prayer; not in the way of legal performances. But, owing to his spiritual slothfulness no less than to his pride, he is always inclined to enter the path of self-righteousness, and thus to estrange himself from the grace of God and from true spiritual life. This striving of man to realize righteousness in his religious and civil performances sinks him a thousand times into the most unspiritual Pharisaism, which sharpens his performances in mere external things, while spiritual death gives the most ghastly signs of its having seized on the inner man. And a thousand times the poor publican stands agitated by the feeling of his guilt, and burdened by the condemnatory sentence of the Pharisee, and in the internal sentence that he passes on his own soul, sees the day-spring of God’s grace. Thus both the Pharisee and the publican are world-historical forms; they walk immortal through all ages of the theocracy and of the Christian Church. While this parable shows how the sinner obtains grace by means of prayer, the parable of the unjust judge (Luke 18:1-8) represents how Christians who are in a state of acceptance with God obtain at last, in times of severe trial, His merciful aid by means of persevering prayer. Here, therefore, the unjust judge represents the image of God, as in another parable the unjust steward denotes the pious man. In both cases these delineations are manifestly to be regarded as allegorical, in distinction from symbolical ones. God can only according to outward appearance seem like the unjust judge when He allows the pious to suffer long under the oppression of the world and the attacks of the evil one, when, as in the instance of the sufferings of Christ, He seems to continue inexorable in the deepest sufferings of the innocent. But, according to His nature, He is always the merciful One. Parables in which such bold allegorical strokes occur, peculiarly require an explanation, such as is given here and at the close of the parable of the unjust steward. Olshausen has justly referred to the often-recurring outward appearance of the inexorability of God, in which He only expresses His own unsearchableness in order to explain the figure of the unjust judge. According to him, the oppressed widow is to be regarded as an image of the persecuted Church; and her adversary who oppressed her, an image of the princes of this world. The explanation which Jesus appends to the parable favours this interpretation. He calls attention to the words of the unjust judge. As the poor widow was always importuning him to extend to her the protection of the law against her adversary, he said to her, ‘though I fear not God nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.’1 ‘Hear,’ said Christ, ‘what the unjust judge saith. And shall not God avenge His own elect, which cry day and night unto Him, though He acts towards them with lofty reserve,2 and therefore inscrutably? I tell you that He will avenge them speedily.’ The closing words, ‘Nevertheless, when the Son of man cometh, will He find faith on the earth?’ express the same thought in the strongest manner. God will not only respond to the prayers of His elect, but will so far surpass them, that the appearance of the Son of man, with which the redress of their wrongs will take place, will be incredible to the majority. In this parable, therefore, the whole praying life of the Church is marked as the condition on which the entire mercy which God cherishes for His Church in His Spirit will be manifested. The appearance of not hearing, of unmercifulness for a long time, confronts the supplications of the Church; but when the hearing comes, the unfolding of the mercy will be so glorious, that it will be met by the appearance of unbelief in those who had implored it.3 But though this parable, according to its precise interpretation, is a living image of the Church in all ages, it is equally an image of individual believers. The destitute soul is reminded of the full power of constant access which God grants it in the privilege of prayer. In the way of prayer it can be certain of the superabundant unfolding at a future time of God’s mercy. A kindred parable, but presented in the form of a parabolic conversation, we find in Luke 11:5-8. Here the Lord describes a person who knocks in the middle of the night at his friend’s door, to seek his assistance on a pressing occasion. Another friend, travelling by night, has turned in for a lodging, and he wants three loaves to entertain him; so he comes to his friend with a request to lend them to him. Will this friend, in such a case, call to him from within,1 ‘Trouble me not; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed?’ ‘I say unto you,’ says Christ, ‘though he will not rise and give him because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will arise2 and give him as many as he needeth.’ Both friends have excellent motives which clash with one another. The one entreats under the pressure of a sacred obligation which friendship, and indeed hospitality, had imposed upon him in a most urgent form. For the other, it is hard to disturb his little ones in their sweet sleep so suddenly and alarmingly, especially by the opening of the house-door. But still he does not consider it well to set his own motive against that of his friend. The unabashed urgency to which his friend is impelled by the requirements of love forms an exciting power which overpowers him and makes him quite alert to render aid. And if he were not his friend, yet he could hardly withstand him. How much more, then, will God, in His deep, heavenly repose, faithfully and graciously hearken to the supplication of man in his midnight distresses-that supplication which in its purity always proceeds from the holiest solicitude of love, honour, and duty! The experience of God’s great clemency which redeems and rescues the sinner, can only be completed when the life of love again awakens in his breast and begins to gush forth. It will therefore express itself in reciprocal love and gratitude, and in their preservation. This truth the Lord exhibits in the short parable of the two debtors (Luke 7:41-42). Both were in debt to the same creditor. The one owed him five hundred pence, and the other fifty; and since they could not pay him, he frankly forgave them both. Simon the Pharisee, to whom Jesus had addressed this parable, was obliged himself to decide, that he to whom the creditor forgave most would love him most. Jesus then declared to him, that the sins of the woman who had occasioned this conversation were forgiven, since she had given proof of greater love; ‘but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.’ It plainly follows from the connection of the parable, that the forgiveness of sins is to be considered not as the consequence, but as the ground of love to the Lord. But the leading thought of the parable is this, that from the fulness and power of a man’s proofs of love we must draw conclusions respecting his love, and through that, respecting the reconciliation from which alone it can proceed. Where the love is great, the reconciliation is great; where there is little love, the reconciliation is slight; that is, the reconciliation scarcely exists, or is not yet begun. And the more the love of man unfolds itself, so much more deeply he enters into the blessed kingdom of love and mercy. But the more he gives himself up to an unloving disposition, the more he loses the right state of mind for mercy and the hope of it. Christ shows in three great parables, that if men would obtain mercy, they must exercise mercy. In the first, the parable of the unjust steward (Luke 16:1-8), we see the blessing of mercy; on the other hand, in the two others, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and of the servant who owed ten thousand talents (Matthew 18:23; Matthew 18:35), the curse of unmercifulness is depicted. In the exposition of the first parable, we must, above all things, not overlook the key which the Lord has given, since this parable is more difficult than the others. This remark applies particularly to the words, ‘The children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light.’ The unfaithful steward must be regarded as one of the children of this world, since he deceives his lord. And the debtors are, at all events, people who live in the same worldly element as the steward; they become parties at once to his unfaithfulness. Of his master we know nothing that sets him above the region of the children of this world. It strikingly indicates his worldly mode of viewing things, when we are told, in Luke 16:8, that he actually commended his unfaithful servant. It is true, he praised him only for his cleverness-that by the exercise of a great though unrighteous liberality he had made provision for his own maintenance. Now thus the children of light ought to be wise in their way, in accordance with their own character. Money is almost an imperishable idol, the Mammon whose worship will not vanish even among Monotheists;1 for which reason Christ calls money by the name of the idol. But He calls it still more definitely the Mammon of unrighteousness; not only because it passes through so many unrighteous hands, but because it never purely corresponds to its proper destiny, an ideal standard of value for worldly things and relations. Money (Geld) should express the essential value (Geltung), and thus secure righteousness in commercial transactions; but in its actual use it is often a caricature of its destiny-a false standard of value, and therefore a medium on which a thousand false estimates and returns, and therefore deeds of unrighteousness, depend. But the children of light should always feel about money as if something alien and unsuitable belonged to it, and therefore should devote it most willingly to making friends with it-friends who may receive them, if they now suffer want, into everlasting habitations. It would not be consonant to the spirit of Christ’s doctrine, if we were so to understand these words, as if the pious could by works of mercy purchase a reception into everlasting habitations, or that this reception is dependent on the generosity of the perfected in the other world. In this parable we find ourselves placed in the kingdom of free mercy. According to this view, the leading thought is: Sanctify temporal possessions, which generally become a burthen to men; make them an organ of blessing by your liberality; make them the channels of your mercy. If you so devote the temporal to mercy, you will make friends for yourselves, who will give you in exchange the eternal for the temporal, and receive you into their everlasting habitations. Here in the everlasting habitations of the Church, and in the other world in the everlasting habitations of the perfected kingdom, you will be welcomed as belonging to the family. Whoever devotes his powers to mercy, living and dying, he will fall into the arms of mercy. Olshausen has developed the leading thoughts of the parable in an ingenious manner, so that all the parts obtain a definite meaning. The rich man is the world, or the prince of this world. Opposite to him stands another, the true Lord,-God as the representative of those who receive the destitute into everlasting habitations. The steward stands in the middle between the two. ‘He labours with the property of the one for the objects of the other.’ We are here reminded of the better sort of publicans, who had an entirely different position from that of the Pharisees. They were outwardly, indeed, very much mixed up with the world, but their inner man was inflamed with a longing after the divine. The Pharisees, on the contrary, were ‘outwardly in close conjunction with the divine, as the representatives by birth of the theocracy; but their inner life was attached to the world, and they made use of their spiritual character for temporal objects.’ But the parable, by certain definite features, requires the exposition of Olshausen to be in some degree modified. According to Luke 16:13, the rich man is Mammon himself-the allegorical Plutus-the spirit of gain, or the worldly mind so far as it amasses wealth in the spirit of selfishness. Every man of wealth or property is a steward in the kingdom of this Mammon. But the pious man of wealth does not serve him faithfully; he embezzles, according to worldly notions, the treasures which he ought strictly to employ for self-interest, since he employs them in the spirit of liberality and sympathy. Lastly, he is too much for the calculating genius of gain, who purposes to dismiss him from his service; that is, the steward by his liberality puts himself in a wrong position to the spirit of gain in the world; he is in danger of being reduced to poverty. But this knowledge of his situation does not frighten him back into worldly covetousness. He wishes, indeed, not to starve, nor would he like, in order to live, to be a bungler in a trade that he had not learnt, or to practise the fawning servility of a mendicant. So he goes confidently and boldly forward in his way; he takes still bolder steps in disregarding his lord’s interests, for he contributes to the kingdom of love and mercy. The parable makes it manifest, how in the Christian Church the rigidity of selfish acquisition ever more becomes relaxed in the service of love, and how the Christian spirit contributes to a brotherly communion in the enjoyment of goods.1 The practical application made by Jesus calls this unfaithfulness of the pious against Mammon, faithfulness in little, the least that can be required of a Christian. ‘If ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous Mammon, who will commit to your trust the true [riches]? If ye have not been faithful in that which is another man’s, who shall give you that which is your own?’ Here the thought is more decidedly brought forward, that money is not to be managed according to the mind of the wealthy world of Mammon, but according to the Spirit of God. Lucre is dangerous as well as unessential for the Christian. If he succumbs to the spirit of the world in this little thing, the true riches cannot be entrusted to him, and he cannot come into the possession of the eternal goods intended for him. This saying struck the Pharisees, and was designed to strike them; but we are not at liberty to suppose that this parable was a mere allegory on the Pharisees and publicans. The rich man in the next parable, at whose gate poor Lazarus was laid, forms a counterpart to the unfaithful steward. Recently some have attempted to maintain that this parable is founded on Ebionitish views. We are not to suppose that the rich man had to atone in eternity for his sins in the present life; nothing of this sort is to be found in the Gospel. It is not said that he had not given relief to Lazarus; rather, he was punished because he was rich and had lived prosperously in the present world. On the other hand, nothing is known of the good conduct of Lazarus; rather, he was admitted into heaven simply because he had been poor in this life. To the rich man special praise has been awarded, because he wished to send a messenger to his brethren who were yet alive from the kingdom of the dead, that they might be warned by his fate. This last circumstance tells against the preceding remarks. The rich man, at all events, admits that he might have escaped the place of torment if he had been suitably warned, and that his brethren might yet escape it. Did it ever enter his thoughts, that they must divest themselves of their wealth? He says nothing of the sort, but rather that they must repent (Luke 16:30).1 Criticism has indeed not altogether overlooked this circumstance; just so the description that the rich man ‘was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day.’ It is indicated with sufficient clearness that Lazarus had not to rejoice in any sympathy on the part of the rich voluptuary. He lay at his door (‘laid at his gate’), covered with sores, and desiring (ἐðéèõìῶí) to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. Yea, even the dogs which came licked his sores. The expression ἀëëὰ καὶ, ‘but also,’ with which the mention of the dogs is introduced, makes them appear not as friends, but as sorry rivals of the destitute. The dogs here spoken of are such as in the East run at large in the towns and greedily seize whatever food they can find. The abundant fragments of the rich man’s luxurious table attracted them in great numbers. They gathered round Lazarus and licked his sores. He was obliged to share his scanty fare with these greedy dogs, among whom it was his lot to be thrown.2 Lazarus dies; so also does the rich man. The funeral procession of the former was a guard of honour from the other world: the angels carry him into Abraham’s bosom.3 The interment of the latter was an earthly ceremonial; with emphasis it is said, ‘he was buried.’ The rich man had charged his memory with the name of Lazarus.4 He was surprised in the other world, in Hades,5 to see this man in Abraham’s bosom, while he was tormented in the flame. And this is exactly the finest, keenest master-stroke of the parable, that the rich man is disposed to treat Lazarus with an unconscious continuation of his earthly arrogance even here, and with contempt. Lazarus must come down to him into the fire, and cool his tongue by applying the moistened tip of his finger; perhaps only in this slight manner, because he had seen the poor man in the impurity of his sores. Lazarus must undertake the errand to his father’s house, and convey information to his brethren as an apparition from the other world. Lazarus here, Lazarus there. Thus he regards him with the same eyes as before, and with the same estimate. Lazarus must be his errand-boy. The arrogance with which he intrudes into Heaven from Hades he foolishly grounds in part, even in the presence of Lazarus, on his descent from Father Abraham. But even in Abraham’s presence he is not teachable. He contradicts his assurance that Moses and the prophets gave sufficient instruction about time and eternity for men who are willing to hear. ‘Nay, Father Abraham, but if one went to them from the dead, they will repent.’ His anxiety for his brethren’s house implies a covert censure of Moses and the prophets, that they were not sufficient to bring persons to repentance; and a bitter reproach of the divine economy, that it neglected him in his religious need, and had suffered him to perish unwarned. The declaration with which Abraham closes the conversation is justified by the events that followed. Even the resurrection of Christ made no impression on the hearts of those who had not been willing to learn the awful importance of eternity from Moses and the prophets. Lazarus throughout the whole parable does not utter a word. Hence it has been inferred that we know nothing of his disposition, and that, according to the Evangelist, he was transported to heaven on account of his former sufferings. But not to say that, as Neander remarks, he is not the principal person in the parable, and that from his relation to Abraham we may conclude that he bore his sufferings with pious resignation, his silence in his present situation must be regarded as most impressive. He is silent before the gate of the rich man, where he calmly lies, a beggar of princely pride and unblemished honour. He is silent also in Abraham’s bosom (whence the rich man would recall him for his service in hell), a humble, blessed child of God, without self-exaltation, in the bosom of glory. If we duly estimate the great virtues of silence, we shall see that of Lazarus come forth conspicuously. This parable would have been better understood if the powerful impression of a transaction between the spirits of heaven and those of hell had not led men’s minds away from the leading thought. Olshausen justly remarks, that this conversation is to be regarded only as a living reciprocal action between the two domains of life. His remark is also worthy of notice, that the description here given relates not to eternal salvation and damnation, but to the intermediate state of departed souls from death to the resurrection. ‘In our parable, therefore, nothing can be said of the everlasting condemnation of the rich man, inasmuch as the germ of love, and of faith in love, is clearly expressed in his words.’ We cannot indeed but acknowledge in him the feeling of sympathy for his brethren; but, in the whole form which it takes, there is a mixture of the most impure elements, namely, of ill-will and unbelief, and even of superstition. The disclosures which Olshausen finds here respecting the relations of the intermediate state must be admitted; namely, ‘(1.) That departed souls are congregated in one place; (2.) that they are separated according to the basis of their character into the good and the wicked; (3.) that after death a transition from the good to the wicked, or the reverse, is impossible.’ But, as we have already remarked, information respecting the detail of things in the other world is not the essential design of the parable. The key to it lies in the declaration of Father Abraham: ‘Thou in thy lifetime receivedst (ἀðëáâåò) thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.’ Of the mere life-position of the rich man in this world on the one hand, and of the poor man on the other, nothing is said, even remotely; but of the way and manner in which the rich man conducted himself in his prosperity, and the poor man in his adversity. The one had enjoyed his good things.1 He had seized upon them as his felicity, and by this enormous delusion had laid the foundation for his future sinking into the fiery torment of unquenchable desires and ever-devouring circumstances. The other received his evil things, his grievous lot; and by his resignation to the divinely decreed suffering, he became capable of blessedness. Reposing in Abraham’s bosom, he could find a heaven in that calm retreat; while the other, in his fearful agitation, would fain have set heaven and earth in commotion. These destinies, so distinctly marked, considered in their parallelism, would show the judgment of the Gospel to be far exalted above the reproach of Ebionitism. But these destinies intersect one another, and for this reason,-because the rich man kept his earthly goods for himself, without mercy towards the poor man; because he turned that abundance itself into a curse which should have been a blessing to the other; and because the poor man in his indigence had borne with resignation the misery of the world together with the misery of the rich man. The true poor man is merciful in the manner in which he bears unenviously and quietly in God the burden of the world, its discordancy; wherefore he will obtain mercy. The false rich man, who receives his property as booty for his sensual indulgence, is without mercy by the very manner of his luxurious living; retributive justice confronts him in eternity with its punishments. Dives and Lazarus are world-historical personages. The rich man, by worldly luxury, allowed himself to be seduced into unmercifulness, and thus incurred heavier guilt, since he had experienced the liberality of God in his abundant possessions, and was therefore bound to exercise liberality. But much heavier is the guilt of him, who in the spiritual life experiences the mercy of God, and after such an experience treats his neighbour in spiritual relations with unmercifulness. This criminality is depicted in the parable of the unmerciful servant. The king who would take account of his servants (Matthew 18:23-35) is evidently an image of God in the administration of His strict justice. When he begins to reckon, there is one who owes him ten thousand talents. In the presence of eternal rectitude, the very best servant of God is a sinner burdened with an immeasurable debt. The servant is unable to pay. So man cannot possibly wipe away his own sin. His lord threatens the debtor to sell him with all his family, according to the ancient law of debt, in order to recover as much as possible. Thus the punishment which strikes the sinner, falls also on those who belong to him. But the debtor, in his terror, pleads for a respite; and his lord yields to his prayer, takes compassion on his family, and remits the whole debt. It deserves special notice, that the debtor asked for a respite; it did not amount to a frank admission of his insolvency; he could not leave the legal standpoint. He shows the same temper also in his conduct immediately after towards his fellow-servant, who owed him a hundred pence: ‘He took him by the throat, saying, Pay me what thou owest;’1 and without being softened by his entreaties, ‘cast him into prison till he should pay the debt.’ His hard-heartedness is represented in sharp, bold strokes. This took place on his going out from the chamber in which his lord had just forgiven him his immense debt As he had thrown himself at his lord’s feet, just so his fellow-servant fell at his, and in the same words as he had used to his lord, besought a respite. And the claim was so trifling. By these traits is depicted the legal harsh demeanour of a member of the theocracy, or of the Christian Church, towards his brethren who are in debt to him. His fellow-servants were sorely grieved at such conduct, and told their lord. They plainly recognized another higher right-the right of mercy. Their lord now called the unmerciful servant into his presence and reproached him for his baseness. He handed him over in wrath to the tormentors, and to a painful imprisonment, till he had discharged his whole debt. But how could he exact from him the debt which he had already remitted? According to our civil law, to revoke the remission of a debt is not permissible. But in the legal relation in which this king stood to his servants or slaves, it was allowable for him to impose a heavy fine, or to exact the debt he had remitted. He had remitted the debt because he besought him (ἐðåὶ παρεκάλεσάς με). But the real suppliant gives the assurance that he believes in mercy, and therefore that the spark of mercy is in his own heart. If this debtor had supplicated in truth, he would have given a guarantee that he also practised mercy. His having been the recipient of an act of mercy, bound him to the exercise of mercy. This his lord plainly reminded him of, in the words,’ Shouldst not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?’ Therefore the act of remission was nullified by his own fault. If the old debt had been remitted, he had now incurred another, greater one; had he incurred no new debt, the old one remained. According to this law which he had set up against his fellow-servant, the law of inexorable legality, he is now handed over to justice. His lord first treated him according to the law of justice, for the sake of the truth of justice. Then he treated him according to the law of mercy, or of supplication; for supplication as an expression of faith in mercy is a prophecy of mercy, and so its germ. But since he had practically repudiated this law, his lord returns with him to the first law, and holds him a prisoner in this stern hard world of exacting, avenging, inexorable justice, until he has paid all-for ever, if he does not learn to believe in the kingdom of mercy. The latter proviso we must make, for his lord had not changed his own nature in itself; but towards him he is the strict judge, not only for the sake of justice, but of truth; and this conduct is at the same time concealed mercy. We are not to suppose, from the particular traits here given, that a pardoned sinner in the stricter sense is depicted, who by his decidedly unmerciful conduct towards his fellow-men again falls back into his old state of condemnation. Christ distinctly assumes that he to whom much is forgiven, also loves much. But the possibility is certainly expressed in the parable, that a man may lose the beginnings of a life in grace by unmercifulness, or that he may decidedly disturb and obscure the continuance of his life in reconciliation with God, by more or less rash single acts of natural or legal hardness. And in this reference, the parable is a solemn warning. But if we keep in view the meaning of the words, that the lord took account of his servant, and remitted his debt, the whole life in Christianity is marked as a life in the kingdom of mercy, and therefore mercy as the highest duty. The Christian has, by his profession, from the first acknowledged himself to be a heavy laden debtor to God;-the central point of his prayers is supplication for forgiveness-his whole faith is grounded on the remission of sins; therefore his duty to show mercy to all who need mercy, and are susceptible of it, is expressed as the great and prime duty of his life. But it has happened a thousand times that the professed servant of God has come from his Lord’s presence in the ordinance of the Church, after absolution, and immediately, according to another rule of action, the purely legal, has treated his fellow-servant with the greatest harshness while the absolution was still sounding in his ears and should have found an echo in his heart. And thus he often comes from baptism, or from the communion, or from prayers; and a thousand times he is in danger, as he comes out, of forgetting the remission of his own great debt, and of seizing his neighbour by the throat for a small one. And if he falls into this temptation, it proves that his supplication was not of the right kind, and therefore that he has not really obtained absolution. His whole transaction with the merciful Lord was rendered nugatory, because his supplication was no real reflex and witness of eternal mercy. We need only take a glance at the history of the Church, or even at our own lives, in order to see what a fearfully clear and reproving mirror of a thousand instances of spiritual unmercifulness, under the banner of eternal mercy, is held up in this parable. And as in the rich man the unmerciful practices of men of the world are condemned, so in the parable of the two debtors the unmercifulness of professed Christians is condemned. And as the former suffered torment because in his unmerciful selfishness he had extinguished in himself the true capacity of enjoyment, so the latter came under the tormentors of the legal world, in the gloomy circumstances of self-tormenting both in this world and the next, and of endless quarrelling with humanity, because he did not thoroughly believe in forgiveness, and therefore could not forgive. This law is distinctly expressed in Christ’s closing words (Matthew 18:35). But the unmercifulness of the latter is the greatest. The former closed against his neighbour the treasures of temporal means; the latter closed against his own heart the treasures of mercy. Thus we see in a succession of pictures the agency of the love of God, which has its central point in Christ, as it establishes and extends the kingdom of God in its two great forms of life, in the glory of grace, and in the fervour of mercy. Every parable is a special world-image of this agency of love; each one exhibits a new revelation of its spirit and operation, as it is reflected in a new glorification of the world; and so the representation of the widest circle of its agency stretches forward to the most decided manifestations of its world-glorifying operation. In this series we see grace constantly approaching the fulfilment of the time when it will change itself into the form of judicial righteousness, in order to complete the erection of the kingdom of God, or in order to free the finished structure of ideal humanity from the rubbish and scaffolding which surround it. The world of the merciful Samaritan is the world of merciful love in its widest extent. It embraces heaven and earth, the good and the evil. Hence it oversteps all the limits of nationalities and confessions, and chooses the strangest instruments among foreigners, dissidents, and heterodox, in order to put to shame and to conquer the unlovingness of national and confessional pride. It operates in a thousand forms on earth. Children and women, even heathens and savages, are active in its service. It is the healing balsam which streams forth from human hearts in their philanthropy and sympathy. Its symbolic representative is the good Samaritan; its real chief in its quiet world of wonders is the Crucified. If we see in this image the great labour of love, the second world-scene shows us the festival of love; we are taught its special object. It has prepared a great feast for humanity. Men are to assemble in its hall for an eternal feast-a feast of the highest divine communion, spiritual joy, and blessedness. The feast is announced in the morning of the world against the world’s evening; the first invitations have already been issued. And the glory of this love is most of all verified in not allowing itself to be perplexed by the despisers of its feast among the invited-that even in its wrath towards them it remains true to itself: it sends out messengers and seeks new guests among the poorest and most forlorn. And throughout all ages of the world this is the boldness of love, that it still makes efforts for winning hearts for the spiritual life of heaven, notwithstanding that the most honourable, consecrated, and dignified administrators of its outward ordinances often appear estranged from this life, and even in a state of awful death. But not without labour does love convert into guests of heaven those who ofttimes would fain have appeased their hunger with the food of swine. A new world opens. We see grace go forth on its sacred errands to seek out the lost. The great history of reconciliation is unfolded before our eyes in the parables of the lost sheep, the lost piece of money, and the prodigal son. The anxiety of the good shepherd, who is ready to lay down his life for his sheep, shows us the impassioned, self-sacrificing, uncalculating devotedness of the love of the Redeemer. The painstaking housewife is the lively image of a whole world of beautiful redeeming solicitudes in the heart of Christ and His Church. The restoration of the prodigal son, which the father celebrates by a feast in his house, is the history of numberless experiences of grace, and of its welcomes in the hearts of believing penitents, and an image of every evangelical jubilation in Christendom which sounds forth from time into eternity. But the life of Christ in us must verify itself under trial. The parts are shifted. Before, man was for a long time irresponsive to the call of his God; now, God appears to be irresponsive to reconciled men. We see humanity in its genuine christological life of prayer turned towards salvation: the work of God’s faithfulness in the trial and distress of His people, the glowing operation of His purifying power in their earnest supplications, is unveiled to us. The innermost life of humanity is disclosed; its wrestling after the righteousness of God and the completion of His kingdom, in the praying publican, in the persistently supplicating widow, and in the friend made over-importunate by necessity. Then, in the parable of the thankful debtor, we see the community of believers in the overflow of their love; they love much because many sins have been forgiven them. We see how humanity in its choicest specimens gratefully gathers round its Redeemer. And now the Christian spirit begins to transform the old world of selfish acquisition, the ice-bound kingdom of Mammon, into a new genial world of brotherly kindness, of benevolence, and of the common enjoyment of God’s blessings. But we see how, against this bright side of the new world, a dark night-side is presented; the world of secular and spiritual unmercifulness that constantly becomes more intense, represented by the rich man and the unmerciful servant. With these parables we approach the representation of the judgment as it is given in the third cycle of parables. Already, in the earlier parables, our attention has been directed to the judgment by single traits; as by the priest and Levite, by the despisers of the great feast, and by the elder brother of the prodigal son. But as the kingdom of God in its absolute power and glory embraces the whole world, those persons who reject His mercy are still within the range of His government, and fall into the hands of His justice. Yet, while His justice visits them with its judgments, it remains one with His mercy. But as it is the office of mercy to found and to build the kingdom of God, so it is the office of justice to purify and to complete it. The parable of the day-labourers who each received one penny, notwithstanding the unequal times of their labour in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16), must stand at the head of the parables of this group; for it shows how the justice of God exercises a rewarding retribution which is wholly animated by the munificence of grace. Grace determines and gives a brilliancy to the hire of these labourers, and equalizes it. The parable shows us, therefore, how the administration of God’s justice is perfectly one with that of His love. A proprietor hires labourers for his vineyard: the first, about six o’clock in the morning, at the beginning of the day; others, at nine o’clock (about the third hour)-people whom he finds standing in the market-place, detained there by the attraction of earthly things, loungers in the region of worldliness; others, again, about noon; a fresh set, about three in the afternoon; the last, an hour before sunset, or about the eleventh hour. These latter answer to his inquiry, ‘Why stand ye here all the day idle?’ ‘Because no man hath hired us;’ and at his bidding they go immediately into the vineyard. Here, then, we have a series of conversions exhibited according to the measure of their earlier and later temporal beginning. Some of these labourers have grown up in a life of piety, and from the first have been active in it; others have been called later; many have stood all day idle in the market-place, and enter the Lord’s service not till the evening of life. Now, according to the relations of earthly justice and rewards, it would be natural to expect that the payment of these labourers would be reckoned according to the term of their labour. So the Jews probably expected that the heathen who should be converted in the world’s evening, would receive a smaller reward than themselves. Also in modern times it has been maintained by rationalist theologians, that the neglected opportunities of the sinner in the time before his conversion can never be repaired-that the loss of time follows the converted man himself into eternity in an irreparable shortening of his felicity. But this parable seems to have been specially constructed to explode such an erroneous opinion. It belongs to the majesty of grace, that from the bosom of its eternity it can restore the otherwise irretrievably lost time. Hence also the circumstance is explained, that God could allow the heathen to go on in their own way thousands of years without losing sight of them, and similar mysteries. The power of grace shows itself in the reward of the labourers as the parable depicts it. The proprietor agrees with the earliest labourers for one penny; to the next he made the indefinite promise, that ‘whatsoever was right, that they should receive;’ and with the last he appears scarcely to have made even this condition.1 And when evening was come, the lord of the vineyard desired his steward to call the labourers and give them their hire, in such order, that he began with the last and ended with the first. Now when the labourers who were hired in the early part of the morning saw that those who were hired at the eleventh hour received a penny, they expected much more, and murmured when they also received only a penny. Manifestly the parable expresses first of all the equal position of the earlier and later converted in the state of blessedness. But if the parable merely represented this truth, that salvation would at last be equal for all the converted, although they entered at different times into the service of the kingdom of God (as Neander thinks), the most striking features of the parable would be to no purpose. Rather it is clear, that the labourers hired last enjoyed the distinction of being first paid. And since in proportion to their time of labour they could not expect much, one penny was for them extraordinary good fortune. The first labourers, on the other hand, not only received their penny last of all, but embittered their own joy in it by expecting more. The outward equality of their pay, therefore, became an inward inequality in favour of the labourers who were last hired. How are we to explain this circumstance? Manifestly we must regard the labourers who were first hired as saved persons. For the one equal payment denotes the salvation to be imparted equally to all. But there is originally a difference in men’s capacity for salvation, and in proportion the fulness of salvation must be different to different persons. Now these first labourers appear to be delineated as more legal, calculating natures, whose capacity for salvation was not of great extent. They bargained with the proprietor for a penny. Labouring in his vineyard had become irksome to them-the chief point in the recollection of their labour is the burden and heat of the day. And they think it strange, that the others should be placed on an equality with them in point of wages. Since they ground their complaint on the principles of daily wages, the proprietor points out to them, that even on these principles they had received what was due to them. As to the last hired, on the other hand, the lord of the vineyard appears to take into account that they had not the opportunity till late of entering into his vineyard, and possibly they had a battle with themselves to exchange towards evening their indolent mode of life for hard work, and yet went briskly to their task without a stipulated reward. At all events, they appear now as, in proportion, the more richly rewarded, for this reason, that the amount of the reward must have surprised them. Thus a great fact in the kingdom of God seems to be reflected in their relation to the labourers who were first hired. The kingdom of God is the kingdom of spirit, in which the power of time and the relations of nature are abolished-in which a thousand years are as one day, and one day as a thousand years. In this kingdom it can be, then, of no decisive importance, in what outward temporal extent any one has lived for the kingdom of God, in what number and measure he has accomplished laudable works in its service. Rather the point of importance is, with what energy he can surrender himself to eternal love, and in what abundance he is able to receive it. And it is frequently found that the spiritual service of one convert forms a strong contrast in its energy to the formal service of another in its outward extent; as, for example, the conversion of the woman who was a sinner contrasted with the religiousness of Simon. In this contrast, one hour of human conversion and of divine reconciliation may have greater weight in their spiritual importance, than many years of life which have been spent under the reciprocal action of a well-considered human piety, and a proportional scanty flow of divine blessings. The differences of the measures of blessedness in the kingdom of God are adjusted, therefore, not according to the calculations of a mercenary disposition, or according to the outward measure of religious service, or according to the rules of human industry, but according to the relations of power and energy in the spiritual life. But viewed under these relations, it may be asserted as a maxim, that a man’s capacity for spiritual blessedness is smaller in proportion as he is more disposed to make stipulations with God, and greater in proportion as he is bold and large-hearted in joyful surrender to the free love of God. According to these relations of the energy of love, the determination of the dynamic inequalities is regulated, which allows the justice of God to enter into the circle of equality which embraces all the saved as saved. The justice of God is, according to its nature, not an outward forensic justice, deciding according to outward laws,-but it is a spirit, and therefore decides spiritually; it is one with free grace, and therefore gives to man in proportion as he can apprehend it as this free power of love. The parable expresses this truth in the words which the lord of the vineyard addressed to one of the dissatisfied labourers: ‘Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst not thou agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way. It is my will to give unto this last (θέλω δοῦíáé) even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with my own? Is thine eye evil because I am good?’ The concluding words are also explained by the intention of the parable: ‘So the last shall be first, and the first last; for many are called, but few chosen.’ According to Neander1 and others, this addition does not suit the parable, but is only outwardly attached to it, since the parable should express simply the equalization of all the converted in heavenly felicity. But we have seen how the parable also gives prominence to the dynamic inequalities within this equalization, and how deeply they enter into its main scope. According to this view, the parable terminates quite naturally with the words just quoted. It is a fact, that many of those who were called early into the kingdom of God were last in what related to spiritual fulness, and that many of those who were later called, appeared in this respect the first. But how can this relative fact be expressed in one sentence which states the matter quite unconditionally-The first will be last, and the last first-since Abraham and the elect of the Old Covenant generally belong to the early called, and, on the contrary, among the later called even the majority will present themselves as the inferior organs of glory? First of all we have to answer, that it belongs to the nature of an apophthegm to express a manifold conditioned thought in an unconditional form, since it must influence by the paradoxical emphatic expression of its chief element. But the warrant for this lies in the symbolical nature of the apophthegm; and so in this instance, the last which will be first are those who appear before the Lord with the slightest pretensions; while inversely, the first are those who by their undue pretensions became the last. This sentence was most strikingly fulfilled in the time of Christ: the Jews, who were the first in their pretensions, became the last; while the last, the Gentiles, advanced to the rank of the first. But even among the Gentile Christians the same phenomenon was repeated, and the ultimate reason is, that many are called, but few chosen. Even because only a few are chosen, so, many of the early called, as they grow up from childhood, in all confessions, according to their internal capacity for salvation, occupy of themselves decidedly a subordinate situation in the organism of the kingdom of God. But the few chosen also enter into their high position although their calling in time reached them later; for they meet the infinite energy of the love of God with a corresponding energy of a yearning and trustful disposition. Thus the kingdom of royal love obtains its organization, because the relations of eternity, or of the spirit, overcome the relations of time. Those who find love in justice, move towards the centre; on the contrary, those who only see justice predominating in love, move towards the circumference. But the circle of equal blessedness encloses them all; each receives his penny. In the parable we have just now considered, the administration of God’s justice is exhibited in its refined and lofty spirituality, in its peculiar glory. This contemplation is continued in the parable of the ten servants among whom the ten pounds were divided (Luke 19:11-28). The former parable shows us how the divine justice requites labour outwardly unequal with an equal reward. In the latter, we see how the faithful employment of an equal number of pounds, on the part of different servants, is followed by an unequal success, and consequently by an unequal reward. But in the former case an internal dynamic inequality was plainly apparent, notwithstanding the equality of the reward; and in the latter we see how this inequality, which is here exhibited in its full extent, is equalized by every labourer’s receiving a reward which exactly agreed with his gains. And this constitutes the peculiarity by which the divine justice is infinitely exalted above the human, that it can exhibit the essential life in law, and equally in law the essential life; that it does not do away the great inequalities of life in the equality of right; and that it faithfully preserves the pure equality of right in the inequalities of life-that it can be justice and grace at the same time, in the one majesty of its administration. As to what relates to the form, it has been thought that in this representation the Evangelist has committed the mistake of confounding two parables together, and that to restore their integrity they must be separated, be that one depicts the relation of a king to his rebellious subjects (Luke 19:12, Luke 19:14, Luke 19:27), and the other the relation of a rich lord to his servants.1 But the blending of these two parts into one living unity constitutes the very pith of the parable. The kingdom of Christ is a realm which first of all was imperilled by a rebellion of its legitimate citizens, the theocratic nation; and its Ruler must gain the kingly power by travelling to a distant land which would place Him in a position to assume it on His return. Now, what was the first duty of His faithful servants whom He had left behind among the rebellious citizens? Should they take arms in order to make an attempt to gain possession of the kingdom for their Lord?1 But this is precisely what this prince was obliged to forbid his servants. In this critical interval they were to administer his property in a perfectly peaceful agency, to make use of their abilities, and to employ the time in promoting his interests. Could our Lord have more impressively told His disciples that in the interval between the ascension and His second advent they were not to think of a worldly exhibition of His kingdom, or of vindicating His royal dignity and identifying His word with the laws of social life, but that they were only faithfully to administer the real goods, namely, the spiritual, which He had left behind, in their unassuming evangelical offices, in order to form a basis for the outward appearing of His kingdom by means of its spiritual riches? But at a future time, when He returns with kingly power, they will also surround Him in royal splendour-be placed over the cities of His kingdom, and assist Him as warriors to execute judgment on the rebellious. Such being the leading thought of the parable, we can understand why the Lord delivered it to His disciples exactly at the time when He was going with them to Jerusalem, and they were expecting that the kingdom of God would directly appear. Luke takes particular notice of the close connection of this discourse with the occasion of its delivery (ver. 28): ‘And when He had thus spoken, He went before, ascending up to Jerusalem.’ Now, if we look at the several particulars of the parable, we meet with traits of great significance. The certain man to whom the parable relates is a nobleman, a person of high birth; namely, Christ the chief of humanity. But as in that age Jewish persons of rank frequently resorted to the Emperor at Rome in order to get themselves invested with princely dignity in Palestine, so this noble personage went into a distant land in order to obtain a kingdom and to return home; an evident reference to His ascension, and His return at a future time for the manifestation of His kingdom. The nobleman, before setting out, calls his ten servants, commits to their care ten pounds,2 and says to them, ‘Occupy till I come!’ The great number of his servants indicates the dignity of his house; the number ten is the round number of the world’s course. Each servant receives only one pound: by the equality as well as the smallness of the amount, we are led to think not of the gifts of grace entrusted to them considered in themselves, but of the official calling in which they find their expression. Every disciple of Christ is like the rest in his calling; and such a calling appears very mean in contrast with the splendour of the world. But his citizens hated this nobleman, and sent a message after him with the declaration, ‘We will not have this man to reign over us.’ We are here reminded of the embassy which the Jews sent to Rome to remonstrate against the government of Archelaus;1 and we are thus shown how Christ, in the contemplation of His theocratic claims to the throne of David in the sense of eternal duration, might wish to bring it into comparison with the way and manner in which the partizans of Herod at Rome canvassed for the earthly throne in Israel. The fulfilment of this part of the parable was first of all shown by the refusal of the Jews to receive the tidings of Christ’s glorification after His ascension and the day of Pentecost. But in a wider sense all unbelievers in the whole course of time belong to these rebels. When the nobleman returned, invested with kingly authority, he commanded the servants to whom he had given the money to be called before him, that he might know how much each had gained by trading. The first came forward and said, ‘Lord, thy pound hath gained ten pounds.’ And he said unto him, ‘Well, thou good servant, because thou hast been faithful in a very little, have thou authority over ten cities.’ The second came forward and said that he had gained five pounds. He was put over five cities. In this description the gain is first of all to be estimated. With the pounds are gained pounds; that is, from a few messengers and witnesses many others are made; His people, who are called to testify of Him, become numerous. But next, the difference in the gains of the different servants is strikingly exhibited. With one pound one had gained ten pounds; another, only five. If this difference lay entirely in the difference of industry, the servant would scarcely pass muster with the gain of only five pounds; but other causes appear to have co-operated, namely, the diversity of talent, and especially the talent of energy, in order to account for such a difference in the result. Then the recompense comes under consideration. Since the kingdom of Christ has now become a monarchy, His faithful servants become royal governors over its cities, and according to the measure in which they have gained with the sums entrusted to them. In the success, of their activity in the kingdom of the Cross, they had developed their qualification for their activity in the kingdom of glory, and the measure of it was fixed. The juxtaposition of the two faithful servants is sufficient to illustrate these truths. But another comes, saying, ‘Lord, behold, here is thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin; for I feared thee, because thou art an austere man; thou takest up that thou layedst not down, and reapest that thou didst not sow. And he saith unto him, Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee, thou wicked servant. Thou knewest that I was an austere man, taking up that I laid not down, and reaping that I did not sow: Wherefore then gavest not thou my money into the bank, that at my coming I might have required my own with usury?’ Now follows the sentence: ‘Take from him the pound, and give it to him that hath ten pounds.’ The servants object, be has already so much; but their lord answers, ‘Unto every one that hath shall be given; and from him that hath not, even that he hath shall be taken away from him.’ The wicked servant allowed the pound entrusted to him to lie unemployed. It is characteristic, that he had laid it aside wrapped up in his napkin; he had used neither his pound nor his napkin; in cold indolence he had neglected, concealed, and denied his calling. From the reason he alleges, it is evident that he had no attachment to his lord, that he could not regard his master’s business as his own. We cannot, as Olshausen has done, look upon his excuse as indicating a noble nature, which was merely held back by the timidity and scrupulosity of the legal standpoint from putting out his pound to interest. Christ reproaches him as a wicked servant, and condemns him out of his own mouth. His excuse was therefore hypocritical. Devotion to his lord was wanting. He stood on the egoistic, and hence on the slavish standpoint. He undervalued his calling and the talent entrusted to him as a matter of insignificance, which, as he thought, was not worth considering whether he could gain or lose by using it. Trading with the sum entrusted to him seemed everything; the sum itself as nothing; and accordingly he reasoned thus: If I gain large profits with the pound entrusted to me, I shall gain no advantage from it-my lord will take it all; but if I suffer loss, I shall be made responsible for it without mercy. Hence it will be best for me to lay the pound by for him, and take care of myself. Thus the man of a slavish spirit calculates in the Lord’s service. He feels not how great the gift of his calling is; for surrender to the love that has called him is wanting. He thinks that everything in religion depends on his working. But he is afraid of becoming a saint, since he cannot regard as his own gain what he is to gain for God. On the other hand, he is so very much afraid of failures in Christian endeavour, and on that account postpones his conversion, as many Christians in ancient times deferred their baptism. Wherever a slothful servant of Christ looks upon his calling in relation to the harvest of the world, which Christ will expect from him, as a troublesome, contemptible sowing, and on that account neglects it, this parable obtains its fulfilment. But Christ passes sentence on the servant according to his own showing. Exactly because he expects great things from the improvement of every gift and calling entrusted to man, must every one make the best use he can of his pound. The very least which the slothful servant could have done, would have been to put his pound in the bank; without any great exertion on his own part, he would then have secured at least the usual interest of the money. He might give back his calling to the Church, who would then transfer it to some one else (place the pound in another person’s hands for trading with), and the Lord would then receive the profits which He might expect from a faithful application of it.1 Instead of this, he retained the calling, but neglected it, and thereby inflicted an injury on his lord’s affairs. As a punishment, his pound is taken from him and given to him who had ten pounds. All the rights of the Christian calling which the unfaithful neglect, will one day revert in the world of perfect reality to those who have been faithful in their calling; and precisely those who have the richest blessing of power and fidelity will obtain the richest reversion. This expectation is thoroughly certain, since it is a settled matter that the correct relations of power and being in the kingdom of God, and therefore the relations of rank in those who sustain them, must one day appear in a perfect, clearly expressed organism. Whoever has the reality, to him also will be imparted the glory of the appearance; but whoever is destitute of real life in the calling of Christ, from him will be taken away the outward calling to exhibit it. After this sentence passed on the slothful servant, sentence is also passed on the rebels. They are already defeated by the glorious return of the lord; he now causes them to be brought and slain before his eyes. In this is contained the announcement, that the sentence of condemnation on the enemies of Christ will take place at His return before His throne. The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) has such an affinity to the preceding, that by critics of different schools2 it has been regarded as only another recension of it, or as the original from which the other is taken. But notwithstanding the affinity of its leading features and thoughts, it is distinguished from it by a marked peculiarity. As to its position, it is connected with the parable of the ten virgins, which immediately precedes it, by the thought that the delay of Christ’s return is a probation for His disciples, and at last will suddenly come upon them with a dangerous surprise; and by this same thought it is clearly distinguished from the parable of the pounds. In both parables, Christ’s servants are individually tried by the great distance which separates Him from them. But in the former it is the distance of space, here it is the distance of time, which forms the ground of their trial. There, it is questionable whether the candidate for the throne will return from a distant land invested with regal power; here, the master of the household is a long time away from home, and his servants, owing to the uncertainty whether he will ever return, and the long destitution of his personal appearance, are tempted to slothfulness and the neglect of what is entrusted to their care. According to this view of the parable, the first thing that strikes us is the relation of the lord of the servants to the kingdom. He is not described as a person of high birth, but simply as ‘a man travelling into a far country.’ He has three servants. If in the number of ten servants the relation of the disciples of Jesus to the whole course of the world is made apparent, here the three servants mark the work of the Spirit which is committed to the circle of the disciples on earth; for three is the number of the Spirit. And if in the one pound the equal discipleship of all Christians, in its humble aspect in the eyes of the world, is represented, so here the trust committed to the disciples appears to us rather in its essential importance.1 According to this proportion, one of these servants had a sum three hundred times greater than in the former parable. Poverty-struck as the calling of the apostles and evangelists may appear on the secular side, thus splendid is its inward spiritual side; however faint the outward lustre of the calling, great are its golden contents, the gifts of grace; for we can understand by the talents nothing else than the gifts of grace bestowed on the disciples. The calling of the disciples is equal: each has only one pound. But the gifts of grace are various: to one servant five talents are entrusted; to another, two; to another, one. On this rest the inner differences of Christian discipleship, and hence it is explained that one with his pound could gain ten pounds, while another gained only five. This diversity in the gifts of grace which Christ dispenses in the kingdom of redemption is regulated by the diversity of natural gifts which God has dealt out in the kingdom of creation. The master, on his leaving, fixed for each of his servants the number of talents according to their ‘several ability’ (κατὰ τὴí ἰäáí ה‎םבלים), it is said in the parable. What in the domain of human natural life was intellectual power, in the kingdom of Christ, when purified and consecrated by grace, becomes ‘wisdom and knowledge; what in the former was a power of the soul, here becomes a holy flame of love; and thus every gift, from being a mental natural talent, is converted into a spiritual talent of the kingdom. After the distribution of these gifts of grace, the master straightway departs (Matthew 25:15). The ascension and Pentecost nearly coincide, and, according to the inner nature of things, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit is the immediate consequence of Christ’s ascension. Now a long period elapses; a dangerous term of probation for the servants. The reckoning takes place at the final return of their lord, and it then appears that the two first servants have dealt faithfully with their talents. Each of them has gained as much as was entrusted to him; consequently the spiritual capital entrusted to the believer is exactly doubled by its faithful application. But why only doubled, while the capital of the calling, the pound, has realized ten times its own amount? The calling operates on the broad, wide world, where an apostle in fulfilling his vocation might gain half the world, or bring a whole generation under his power. But the gift of the Spirit operates within the kingdom of the Spirit; hence it will gain just so much life as is specifically related to it. For every positive power of the kingdom of God, a proportionate receptive power exists in the spirit life of the world destined for the kingdom of God. Outwardly this simple gain of the essential gift of the Spirit may appear less than the tenfold gain of the official calling; but according to the scale of importance in the kingdom of God, it stands perfectly equal to it. For the mental gift, in its faithful application, is exactly that which imparts to the calling its destined productiveness. In truth, it is the greatest gain when it is granted to a Christian to reclaim five talents of human mental gifts from their wild growth and perversion for the life of the kingdom of God; hence an abundance of new offices of life arises. The reward, also, which is here granted to the faithful servants, points to the profoundest relations of the kingdom of God. They were faithful over a little;1 now they are placed over much. And this exaltation is thus expressed-the rewarding Lord says to each, ‘Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!’ He admits them into the fellowship of His own life of joy-the fellowship of His perfected rest. The former parable makes the reward of God’s servants for their fidelity in their temporal calling to consist in the glory of their heavenly calling: they were placed over many cities. Here, their fidelity in their human spirit-life, as it was peculiarly conditioned and diversified, is rewarded by their being raised to the sabbatical rest of the unconditioned spirit-life of their Lord. There, they received their reward in a new, heavenly investiture; here, their temporal striving is rewarded with the most entire rest from toil. There, heavenly labour is the blessing on fidelity to their earthly calling; here, heavenly repose of spirit is the consequence of temporal activity of spirit in divine things. In the former case, those who had maintained their fidelity become God’s vicegerents; in the latter, they become members of His family. Thus one parable describes the outward side of their inheritance; the other parable, the inner side. But the servant who had received only the one pound appears very similar to the slothful servant in the former parable. He calls his lord a hard man, reaping where he had not sown; and says, that for fear of him he hid his talent in the earth. He returns it to him unimproved. Manifestly he also was induced by an undervaluation of his gift to hide it in the earth. That in this manner he gradually lost the life of the divine Spirit and sunk the life of his own spirit deep in the earth, the parable could only express by showing how he never properly made the entrusted talent his own, since he brings it again to his lord as his (‘Lo, there thou hast that is thine’), with which he had nothing to do. But his lord rebukes him as a ‘wicked and slothful servant.’ His condemnation is then expressed as in the former parable. His talent is taken from him and given to him who had ten talents. This is designed to teach, that the faithlessness and apostasy of God’s wicked servants produces on His faithful servants a most salutary reaction, a stimulating effect, by which their life acquires an extraordinary elevation.1 But the unprofitable servant is here not merely punished by being deprived of his pound. He is cast into outer darkness, where is wailing and gnashing of teeth.2 When he kept back a gift of the Spirit from the kingdom of God, after he was pledged to employ it, the necessary consequence was, that he became an enemy of this kingdom; hence the severest punishment was inflicted upon him. Finally, if we notice the circumstance that the servant was guilty of this unfaithfulness with the smallest sum, we shall see, on the one hand, the connection of the religious self-determination of man with his gift. This servant had, in proportion, the least religious capital. But on the other hand, we also see the full manifestation of freedom in the unfaithfulness of the servant; for he too had his talent, and could have gained a second with it. It was therefore his guilt that he so conducted himself as if he had no vocation for the kingdom of God, and by this guilt he incurred his condemnation. Thus we see how the three parables, which exhibit the rewarding justice of the Lord in such great acts of allegiance, by degrees bring forward more distinctly its punitive administration. This punitive administration gradually comes forth in the following parables in all its majesty. Especially we find parables which announce beforehand this punitive justice; we might designate them parables of warning and threatening justice. The constant nearness of the divine judgment is continually announced to men by the prevalence of death. The nearness of death, when it makes itself perceptible to sinners, is everywhere an omen of threatening judgment. This is shown in the parable of the foolish landholder (Luke 12:16-21). This man was rich; his fields were crowned with an abundant and splendid harvest. He found that his barns were too small, and resolved to build greater, in order to stow in safety his fruits and his goods. And then he would ‘delude his soul’3 to look upon this store for many years, to eat, drink, and be merry. Here God Himself makes His appearance in the parable. ‘Thou fool!’ He said, ‘this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things be which thou has provided? So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich towards God.’ Judgment overtook him. The death of such a man is in itself a judgment, because it exhibits with one blow all his labour as vain, his whole calculation as false, his striving as folly, and meets his self-will with an inexorable counter-working fate, but especially by the result, that it places him in his nakedness and destitution before God. Thus God’s judgments incessantly proceed through the whole world in the most appalling forms and visitations. But the threatening omens go before the judgments themselves in all the signs of death. In these circumstances, in which death stands for judgment, he is the antipodes of the good Samaritan. He likewise knows no limitations of confessions or nationalities. As the former (the good Samaritan) restored the half-dead to life, so the latter hurries them to the grave. The administration of salutary severity stands as a complement over against the administration of salutary kindness; and the ministers of justice join themselves to the ministers of mercy. But the same man, who is threatened by the impending judgment because his heart is set on earthly things, calls also for punitive retribution, since by this vain striving he becomes an unfruitful tree for the kingdom of God. This truth is exhibited in the parable of the barren fig-tree (Luke 13:6-9). This fig-tree was in a very favourable position. It stood in its owner’s vineyard, under the care of a faithful gardener. And yet, for three years in succession, it brought forth no fruit. Then the owner said to the vine-dresser, ‘Cut it down, why should it impoverish1 the ground on which it stands!’ But the vinedresser interceded for the tree on which sentence had been passed. ‘Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it and dung it: if it bear fruit, well; and if not, after that thou shalt cut it down!’ In the theocratic symbolic, the people of Israel, in consequence of its early awakening to the knowledge of the true God, were in its prime the early fig-tree among the nations (Hosea 9:10). But now, in consequence of its being stiffened in the unspiritual observance of traditions, it had become an unfruitful fig-tree. Its unfruitfulness was the more unnatural, because it enjoyed such distinguished care in the garden of God. Already, at the first appearance of Christ, a judgment had been manifested on the people, for they were not capable of receiving Him. But He, whom the faithful vinedresser resembled in spirit, implored a respite for them. This respite took place in the time of Christ’s ministry, and was then on the point of expiring, without the fig-tree’s promising to reward the last labour bestowed upon it. Therefore the doom that had already been pronounced by the Judge was coming on with hasty steps. But the Christian Church was also such a fig-tree in the garden of God in its outward form, and in a wider sense the whole human race, and indeed, in the most varied appearances, every Christian and every individual man. The spirit of justice which presides over the earth, continually presses forward the developments of human life with accelerated speed, to judgment. But the spirit of mercy exerts a force in an opposite direction, and is ever keeping back the threatening judgments.1 This makes the time of salvation always more precious and more momentous. Long-suffering counts the days of the granted respite, and the greatest facts in which the power of Christ’s love and the monitions of His Spirit are manifested, announce most of all as warning prognostics that judgment is nigh. But at last the threatened judgments make their appearance. Man can suffer them. This is shown in the following parables, especially the parable of the marriage of the king’s son (Matthew 22:1-14). Here that feast appears, which was before exhibited in its relation to mercy, in its opposite relation to judgment. The greatest blessing of earthly life is, that man is invited in it to the feast of God’s felicity; and it is his heaviest loss in life, if he has neglected this invitation. But his punishment does not consist in mere destitution. The destitution of essential life, of life in life, must, according to its very nature, become a tormenting fire in the centre of life-a death in life. A king makes a great feast to celebrate the nuptials of his son; the guests invited are his subjects. Evidently the king is God Himself, and His son is Christ, as He is on the point of uniting Himself with His bride the Church. That the persons invited, if they accept the invitation, belong themselves to the life-form of the bride, is not a point for consideration; for Christ is perfectly certain of His Church as a whole, although individuals of the invited guests should be wanting. Indeed, believers themselves, in their individual capacity, are to be regarded only as wedding guests who partake of one joy with the Bridegroom. Since the guests are the king’s subjects, they would be obliged to comply with the invitation, although he had summoned them to compulsory service. Thus motives of the highest honour, of the highest love and joy, and of the highest duty, combined to induce the persons invited to appear in the most joyful manner at the great festival. Their refusal is therefore something quite monstrous, and in its threefold aggravation is to be regarded as a rebellion. To the first invitation they gave a simple refusal, without alleging any reasons for it: ‘they would not come.’ Their lord condescends to request them by a second set of messengers. He represents the abundance of the feast, the embarrassment of his household if the oxen and fatlings should be killed in vain, and that all things were ready. How strikingly in these traits is the earnestness, the ardour of love in the preaching of the Gospel, depicted! But the persons invited turn away with contempt, and go their way to their usual avocations. Some even proceed so far as to insult and kill the servants who invited them. The king hears of this, and is wroth; he sends forth his armies and destroys those murderers, and burns their city. This is the first act of retributive justice. It has been said that no reason has been given why some of these ungrateful guests killed the servants of their prince who invited them.1 Certainly no motive is alleged for their conduct; nor can any be given, any more than for the fact in the department of spiritual life, that the indifferentism with which the earthly minded man refuses the invitation to the blessed feast of reconciliation with God, can change itself into a positive demoniac hatred against that invitation and its bearers. It is, indeed, an awful thing, that by the guilt of those who are invited, an avenging sword and a dismal conflagration must proceed from the marriage feast of the King of humanity, by which the despisers of the feast perish with their city,-that therefore the greatest gift of God to humanity is rejected by many with a rebellious spirit which can only be put down by the most fearful judgments. In the description of the burning city, there is certainly an obscure allusion to the destruction of Jerusalem; yet we must not overlook the fact, that all the features are symbolical in the most comprehensive sense, so that, for example, the burning city may reappear in Constantinople taken by the Turks, and often in the history of the world; last of all, in the mysterious conflagration which will accompany the last judgment The parable now more distinctly falls in with the representation in the similar parable contained in Luke. We see that the marriage feast of the king’s son cannot be rendered nugatory. ‘The wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy,’ the king says to his servants. He therefore sends them into the highways with a commission to invite whomsoever they can find. The servants execute their errand in the most comprehensive manner; they invite good and bad, and thus the house is filled with guests. We here see how powerfully the preaching of the Gospel is carried on in the world according to the will of the Lord, and how the free invitation addressed by Him to all is at special times more strongly urged by His servants. The most righteous in their ecclesiastical and civil relations are too bad (οὐκ ἄξιοι) if they are self-righteous; the most unworthy, on the other hand, are good enough if they seek righteousness in redemption. Grace, indeed, would not be grace in its divine majesty if it could not redeem, and wished not to redeem, the most unworthy. Therefore the contrast of good and bad which was formed in the old-world ζon makes no difference, if only the good acknowledge with penitence the evil in their lives, and the bad lay hold of goodness in Christ as the destiny of their life. But the emphasis with which this majesty of grace must be announced, in order to put an end to all doubt and despondency, may be badly managed by some servants, as soon as they carry it on in an antinomian spirit-as soon as they accommodate the doctrine of faith to the earthly mind, and grant admission into the Church or absolution with undue facility. In a similar manner, false hearts may misinterpret the Gospel by falsely hearing it, and wish to unite the service of sin with assurance of salvation. But with this a new fall of man is originated worse than the first, just as in the case when unbelief rejects the Gospel. Wherefore the judgment of God pervades the kingdom of grace, and with more intense severity, because the conscious service of sin which will find its way into this kingdom is of all offences the most heinous. Men cannot indeed unite the peace of reconciliation with sin, but they may make the attempt both in doctrine and life; and then always, as an outrage against the holy pure spirit of mercy, must call forth the greatest judgments. The parable exhibits this fact in the king’s going in to take a view of the guests, and finding one among them who had not on a wedding garment. This image has been explained by a reference to the Oriental custom of furnishing a splendid garment for the guest who came to the feast of a man of rank.1 On the other hand, it has been remarked that it is not certain that this custom was prevalent in the time of Jesus.2 Then again it has been urged, that Oriental customs are characterized by their constancy;3 and as a proof, the narrative of Samson’s wedding feast has been adduced (Judges 14:11-13). Samson promised to his thirty companions, whom the Philistines managed to bring with an evil intent to his wedding, thirty sheets and thirty change of garments, on the condition of their explaining his riddle. He might not like to make such a present to the perfidious guests; but since established custom seemed to require it, he imposed on them the task of earning the gift by his riddle. But in our parable a king is speaking before a multitude of poor people, whom he had most graciously invited. It is therefore presupposed that he would not let them want the festive garment.4 Therefore this man, in the imagery of the parable, is a vulgar, coarse-minded being, who knew not how to value the king’s kindness, or to enter into the spirit of the feast-who did not esteem the master of the feast nor the occasion, nor even respected himself. But according to the spiritual meaning this guest cannot be considered as a self-righteous person, ignorant of the righteousness of faith; for this class has already been sentenced under the image of those who ungratefully refused the invitation. That this man appears among the guests in the house of mercy, marks him as one of those who assented like the rest to the doctrine of justification by faith, and tried to regard the consolations of salvation as belonging to himself. But his delinquency consisted in his not entering into the spirit of the feast, into the holy and sanctifying import of reconciliation. As far as he was concerned, the wedding feast would become a coarse carousal, the Gospel would be mere absolution, and Christian orthodoxy a cloak for sin. But the king’s glance detected him even among the genuine guests. He asks him, ‘Friend, how comest thou in hither, not having a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. The king commands the servants to bind him hand and foot, and to cast him into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Thus the parable becomes once more a parable of judgment. The judgment is first of all to be regarded as an internal one. A greater self-delusion cannot exist, than when a man attempts to confound the experiences of grace, of which the essence is to eradicate sin, with the actings and thoughts of sin. This wicked course has for its consequence the most mischievous derangement of the life of the soul. But an outward judgment follows the inward. First of all a fearful repulsion arises between the pure spirit of the Church of Christ and the impure spirit of the hypocrites, and often the latter, when suddenly unveiled, retire as the most mischievous adversaries into outer darkness. But then the special punishment attends them: the servants bind their hands and feet. In their actions and course of conduct they are much more completely ruined than other reprobates. So deeply diseased and prostrated are they, that they have destroyed in themselves the capability of self-respect, and in the Church the possibility of believing in their return; and moreover, by the worst entanglement in the curse, they have utterly deprived themselves of the free movement of their life in the world. Here again the saying holds good, Many are called, but few chosen. Even in the body of professed believers in the righteousness by faith, individuals are to be found who are destitute of the fidelity of the chosen. The chief contrast of this parable, as exhibited in the despisers and guests of the marriage feast, is shown on a small scale in the parable of the two sons whom their father wished to send into his vineyard (Matthew 21:28-31). The first answered to his father’s command to go and work in his vineyard, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards repented of his refusal and went. The other replied to the same injunction, ‘I go, sir,’ and went not. The Lord propounded this parable to the members of the Supreme Council at Jerusalem, who questioned His authority for purifying the temple, and called on them to decide which of the two sons did the will of their father. They answered, The first. Upon this they were obliged to listen to the denunciation, ‘Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.’ The publicans and harlots had first of all renounced the service of God, the one by their position in life, the other by their sinful course. But the spirit of repentance which moved many of them in the time of Christ, was a proof that they repented of their inconsiderate haste. Many of these erring ones became labourers in the vineyard of the Lord. On the other hand, the heads of the Jewish people appeared, by their whole bearing, to be giving a constant assent to the call of God; while their conduct towards the Messiah was a constant decisive negative, which was consummated in the crucifixion. In this parable also, notwithstanding its definite immediate application, we cannot fail to perceive its general symbolical nature. The high priests and elders might indeed have reminded the Lord that the people of Israel were God’s true vineyard, and it cannot be disputed that they as official labourers continued to work in it. To this representation Christ assents: He causes them to appear in a new parable (Matthew 21:33-41; Mark 12:1-9; Luke 20:9-16) as labourers in the Lord’s vineyard. Here therefore the vineyard is an image of the kingdom of God in its universal theocratic form,1 while in the former parable He described the kingdom of New Testament life breaking out of the shell of Judaism. The owner of the vineyard is God. He has completed the whole according to the ideal of a vineyard. The vines are planted; a hedge surrounds the plantation; and it is furnished with a wine-press and a watch-tower. The word of God, as the principle of consecrated life, forms the plantation; the social communion, as the exclusion of those who are not members of the kingdom (under the Old Covenant represented by circumcision and the Passover, under the new by baptism and the Supper), forms the hedge;2 the wine-press denotes the holy suffering by which the spiritual wine is pressed from the grapes; and the tower, the sacred discipline, the office of watching and punishing, in the Church. This vineyard the owner let out to Vinedressers and went into a distant country. In the fruit-season he sent his servants to receive the rent. But these servants were ill-treated by them. According to Mark, one servant was sent first of all, whom they beat and sent empty away; then another, whom they stoned and wounded in the head, and handled him shamefully; last of all, one whom they killed outright.3 The owner then sent a greater number of servants, whom they maltreated in the same way. These Vinedressers are manifestly the rulers of the Jewish nation, as far as they represent generally the prevailing tendency of the people in general. At their hands the Lord might expect to receive the proceeds of His capital, the genuine fruits of repentance. But they shamefully maltreated His prophets, and killed some of them. Christ makes two divisions of these messengers, in order that the sending of the son may appear more suitable as the third and last. The owner last of all sends his own (his only, his beloved) son to them, saying, They will reverence my son. He still wished to regard them not as rebels and robbers, but only as misguided men. But when the son came, they said, This is the heir! This expression is highly significant. By employing it, Christ reproaches His enemies as well knowing that He came from the Father, and was filled with the life of God. The Vinedressers were perfectly aware that to Him the vineyard really belonged, and on that account resolved to kill Him in order to get possession of His inheritance. ‘And they took him and killed him, and cast him out of the vineyard’ (Mark 12:8; Matthew 21:39). The meaning of these words strikes us at once. They were fulfilled to the letter. These Jews slew the Messiah before the vineyard. They put Him to death as an excommunicated person by the hands of the Gentiles. Jesus again caused the Jews to pass sentence on themselves. To the question, ‘When the lord of the vineyard cometh, what will he do unto these husbandmen?’ they say to Him, ‘He will miserably destroy these wicked men, and will let out his vineyard to other husbandmen, which shall render him the fruits in their seasons’ (Matthew 21:40-41).1 Thus the judgment on the wicked administrators of the Old Testament theocracy is announced. But the same spirit of judgment which presides there, pervades also the New Testament theocracy, and executes also in it the decisions of eternal righteousness. But its judgments will come forth especially at the close of the New Testament economy. Then all false, unspiritual Christians will be rejected, while the faithful will enter into the kingdom of perfection. This is shown in the parable of the wise and foolish virgins (Matthew 25:1-13). But especially will all faithless overseers of the Christian Church experience a heavy sentence; this is taught by the parable of the wicked servant (Matthew 24:45-51; Luke 12:42-46). There are times of darkness in the history of the kingdom of God, times which are full of severe temptation for believers. Such a time was that of Christ’s crucifixion (Luke 22:53). The Lord has particularly illustrated the characteristics of a midnight of this kind by the parable of the ten virgins, which is constructed on the Jewish mode of celebrating weddings. The bridegroom went out at eventide in nuptial array, and with great pomp, to fetch his bride from her parents’ house and bring her home to his father’s. The bride watched for him, surrounded by the bridal virgins, who were provided with festive lamps, in which oil nourished the burning wick, and which were often carried on a wooden pole, so that they resembled equally torches and lamps. It was the office of these virgins to go out and meet the bridegroom on his approach, to congratulate him, and then to accompany him in a joyous procession with their lamps to his father’s house, where the wedding was celebrated. On these occasions the bridegroom sometimes kept them waiting till late in the evening, and thus the bridal virgins were subjected to a trial. Their lamps might burn out if they were only scantily supplied with oil, so that they would suffer disgrace, especially if they fell asleep, and thus did not notice early enough the deficiency of oil in their lamps. The characteristic of this nocturnal trial, which the Lord has also exhibited in another parabolic discourse, consists in this: that the waiting virgins lost the festive disposition and earnest attention; that they did not continue in that watchful and joyous state of feeling which the occasion itself and the near approach of the bridegroom ought to have inspired. The significance of this danger is obvious. It is midnight for the Church of Christ when the diffusion of a worldly spirit has so gained the ascendancy as to produce the appearance as if the history of the Church were subject to the common course of the world and nature; as if the kingdom of heaven would not be completed at the judgment and the transformation of the world; as if Christ would not come again. Believers at such a time would be more than ever tempted to lose the feeling of being in the midst of the development of the wedding of the Christian reconciliation and purification of the world, and gradually to renounce their calling of contributing to the festivity of the work of their Lord. But more than once in the midnight of the progress of Christianity the cry is made, ‘The Bridegroom cometh.’ Heavy judgments and great awakenings testify the near approach of the Lord, and His spiritual advent expresses in continually stronger manifestations the approach of His glorified personality, as it takes place at an equal ratio with the transformation of the earth. But the members of the Church of Christ, through spiritual slothfulness, may sink into a state in which every great incident in Christ’s approach will become a heavy judgment. Such a judgment is exhibited to us in the fate of the foolish virgins. The ten virgins, taken all together, do not form merely some part of the Church, as Olshausen thinks, but the whole Church, as indeed is indicated by the number ten. But they signify the Church in one peculiar relation, namely, as it ought to exhibit the glory of the bride with her abundant splendour; the Church, therefore, in its destiny, as full of spiritual joy and blessedness, waiting with the full brightness of her Lord’s inner life, to maintain His honour in His absence, and to meet Him triumphantly at His advent. The sleeping in this parable is indeed a questionable thing; but it is not the special point of criminality, otherwise the wise virgins would not be represented as sleeping at the same time as the foolish ones. It is distinctly said of all of them, ‘While the bridegroom tarried they all slumbered and slept.’ For a while they lost the consciousness of the importance of their position, and of the commencement of the wedding. But this situation was critical, especially since they could not notice whether the oil in their lamps was too quickly consumed. The point of importance in this parable is the oil, the spirit of the inner life.1 The foolish virgins awaken, as well as the wise, at the cry raised by the most wakeful spirits in the Church, ‘The Bridegroom cometh!’ They also are provided with lamps, and begin, like the others to trim them, that they may burn clear. But now it is found that oil is wanting to their lamps; they are gone out. The wise, on the contrary, are provided with a sufficiency of oil; and in this consists the essential difference. The parable therefore exhibits the contrast between the unspiritual, dead members of the Christian Church, and those who are spiritually alive. This difference exists at all times. But it always becomes more important as time advances, and at last appears in all its fearfulness, and is the basis of an essential decision and separation in the judgment which awaits the Church. All the members will wish, at last, to take a part in the imperial glory of the Church. They all have lamps-the forms of faith, the confession of the Church, and their outward position in it. But then the question will be, whether this form speaks the truth, or deceives; whether it is filled by the eternal contents of the Spirit of Christ or not. The foolish virgins have not the Spirit of Christ; they want the burning lamps, the proofs of love and the songs of praise. But it belongs to the more allegorical finish of the parable, when the foolish virgins say to the wise, ‘Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out;’ and when these answer, ‘Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you; but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.’ On the one hand, the earnest longing after the communication of the Spirit is the first beginning of the spiritual life itself; and on the other, the spiritual fulness of one Christian cannot be diminished by impartation to another. Nevertheless, this representation has also symbolical features. The feeling of a deficiency is now awakened in the foolish virgins, and yet they wish to retard the completion of the wise. But these must now attend to their calling, to begin the festive life of the kingdom in the communion of their Lord. The separation is come to maturity. Still a prospect seems to open to them of reaching their destination, since the advice is given them, ‘Go to them that sell, and buy for yourselves;’ since the wise ones counselled them to seek for the spiritual life in the regular way of Christian meditation and of Christian endeavour; in the faithful employment of the instituted means of grace. But while the foolish virgins went to buy, the bridegroom comes. The wise virgins become partakers of the feast, and the door of the festive hall is closed. At last the foolish virgins come and cry out at the door, ‘Lord, Lord, open to us!’ They receive the answer, ‘Verily I say unto you, I know you not!’ This is manifestly a judicial sentence. Olshausen maintains, that from the connection it results that the sentence, ‘I know you not,’ cannot mark eternal condemnation. ‘Rather,’ he says, ‘the foolish virgins were only excluded from the marriage supper of the Lamb’ (Revelation 19:7). But it is very uncertain, when Olshausen says, ‘These virgins had the universal condition of salvation, faith (from their calling κύριε, κύριε, ἄíïéîïí ἡìῖí, Revelation 19:11), but they wanted the requisite for the kingdom of God which proceeds from faith, sanctification (Hebrews 12:14).’ The objective fact which he has here in his eye is the difference between the first and second resurrection-between the preliminary judgment of the world, which is to be succeeded by the glorification of the Church of Christ on earth, and the last judgment, which will be followed by its transformation into a heavenly state of existence. But this constitutes no reason for seeing in the parable only the preliminary judgment. That the foolish virgins said, ‘Lord! Lord!’ and craved an entrance to the feast, did not qualify them as believers. Had they been believers, they would also have been welcome guests. Even the rejected at the last judgment will excuse themselves, according to Matthew 25:1-46. Yet it is not to be lost sight of, that there is a difference between the description of the judgment as it affects the foolish virgins, and as it affects the finally rejected. Therefore, although no particular preliminary judgment is here spoken of, yet the thought of a transient judgment seems to predominate. According to the whole structure of the parable, we may venture to see in it all the preliminary judgments of the Lord, even to the last judgment. And such is the actual fact. As often as the Lord comes to His Church in a new manifestation of His Spirit, a separation is made between the dead and the living members of the Church. Only the children of the Spirit form a joyous procession with Him to His marriage supper. This was the case for the first time, when at Pentecost the Lord returned to His Church by His Spirit. The wise in Israel went in with Him to His feast; the foolish remained without. This will one day be signally verified when the palmiest times of the Church begin, her true glorification in the world. The unspiritual, perfectly dead part of Christendom then set themselves, in some form or other, in marked opposition to the glorified Church. The final judgment was not yet passed upon them; but it is not said that they would necessarily be restored in that judgment. That will depend upon how the last judgment will find them. As to what relates to this judgment which will come on the Church, the Lord finally has expressed in the most striking manner the climax of evil in the Church, by the parable, already mentioned, of the wicked servant. It is remarkable, that it was Peter who gave the Lord occasion to deliver it. The Lord exhorts the disciples to watch (Luke 12:35-36) like servants who wait for their lord when he returns from the wedding. They are to have their loins girt and their lamps burning. They must wait in earnest expectation of their coming Lord, and not incur His displeasure by self-indulgence, and by allowing, like dark spirits, their lights to become dim and go out. Christ closed this exhortation with the words, ‘If he shall come in the second watch, or come in the third watch, and find them so, blessed are those servants’ (ver. 38). But then this cheerful earnest image is changed into a threatening one: ‘And this know, that if the good-man of the house had known what hour the thief would come, he would have watched, and not have suffered his house to be broken through. Be ye therefore ready also: for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not.’ The thief easily deceives the householder in the night, if he does not know at what hour he will come. If he only knew this, nothing would be easier than to hinder the thief. Therefore the uncertainty of the hour of the coming of Jesus Christ is the great danger which always threatens the careless among His disciples; and the more they surrender themselves to their carelessness, so much the more dangerous and obnoxious to them will be the coming of Jesus Christ, as to a householder the breaking in of a thief.1 This parabolic representation contains two most important thoughts. The Christian must indeed consider, that the very next moment may put him in a fearfully difficult position, which will urge him to a decision for his life, and become a judgment for him, if he has not carefully watched beforehand, so as to understand the meaning of this hour when it comes. Christ’s language, which He so often repeats, respecting the uncertainty of that hour, shows us most clearly how distinctly the certainty was present to His mind, that after the tardy course of the periodic time of the Church’s æon, the final catastrophe which is to introduce a new epoch will come with fearful and startling rapidity. Peter having asked the Lord whether He had uttered this parable in reference to them, the disciples alone, or to all, the parable we have mentioned follows (Luke 12:41-48). It appears at first not in parabolic compactness, but in a discourse which gradually assumes a distinctly parabolic form. The Lord said, ‘Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?’ This question distinguishes in their spiritual importance between the class of spiritual stewards and those whom they provide for in the Church. But who is the servant? The decision is difficult, but it is given in the following words: ‘Blessed is that servant whom his lord, when he cometh, shall find so doing.’ Whoever, therefore, at His coming is occupied in dispensing spiritual food to the household, as it becomes him, the doctrines, the consolations, and the encouragements of the Gospel, him his Lord will mark as the servant originally called by Him, and will attest him to be such by placing him over all His goods, and thus making him a prince in the kingdom of the Spirit. But if that servant, who in his real character was distinctly present to his mind as evil (‘that evil servant,’ Matthew 24:48), should say in his heart, My lord delayeth his coming, and should begin to beat the men-servants and maidens, the younger members of the household, and to eat and drink, and give himself up to inebriety, and therefore changing his calling to furnish food to his fellow-servants into the stand-point of a despotic judicial taskmaster in the house, the lord of that servant will come in a day when he looketh not for him, and at an hour when he is not aware, and will pass upon him the sentence of theocratic zeal; he will cut him in sunder,2 and will appoint him his portion with the unbelievers, or with the hypocrites. And thus will he make it evident that he was not his true and accredited servant; for in the kingdom of Christ, according to its essential spirituality, the office must coincide with the interior life and the conduct. The general rule by which the Lord inflicts those severe punishments is next given. The servant who knew his lord’s will and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, will suffer many stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things worthy of stripes, shall suffer few stripes. For every man has an immediate feeling of the will of his heavenly Lord, which he ought to cultivate; and as punishment is due even when a servant does not know what his lord wills, so in a like sense is a man punishable when he does not know what God wills.1 But the punishment of the servant who wilfully transgresses his Lord’s will, will be great. By this rule a greater punishment will be inflicted on a bad Christian than on a bad heathen, and a greater still on a bad clergyman; and so the scale rises up to a bad bishop, and that servant who holds the highest position in the Church with the greatest unfaithfulness, will on that account be punished most severely. The punishment of being ‘cut in sunder,’ expresses the fearful contrast which is formed between the greatest, most careless, judicial arrogance, and the sudden endurance of the most horrible doom. Such a doom falls everywhere on the clerical office, where it falls asunder by a schism into dead parts, where by divisions it loses its authority and power. But as to what concerns the despotic functionary in the Church of Christ, his punishment is more precisely determined in Luke: ‘his portion is appointed with unbelievers.’ He was an unbeliever who made himself a lord of the Church, because he did not thoroughly believe with his heart in the return of his Lord, and therefore neglected and ill-treated his fellow-servants, and gave himself up to a life of self-indulgence. But, according to Matthew, he receives the punishment of the hypocrites, since in his unbelief he assumed the credit of the greatest and most ardent zeal, while he maltreated his fellow-servants. The punishment of the ‘evil servant’ is therefore this, that he is cast into the abode of the lost, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. The two last parables distinctly point to the great representation of the last judgment, which Jesus has given, not in a parable, but in a discourse pervaded by parabolic traits (Matthew 25:31-46). We have seen how the parables relating to the kingdom of God rise in one straight stem, and then branch out into parables of mercy and of judgment. Last of all, the lofty summit of this parabolic system appears in the parabolic representation already mentioned of the last judgment. And here, in the crown of the system, we see the blossom of the parable fully expand, and the resplendent flower break forth of a clear representation of the appearance of the kingdom of God in its New Testament glory; while, by the abundance of its symbolical traits, it shows that it forms the crown of the parabolic system. Nor will the circumstance that this representation is destitute of the compact parabolic form, prevent us from considering it, since it forms the natural organic head of the cycle of parables; in fact, it is the key by which Christ teaches us to unfold what is hidden and veiled in all the parables of the kingdom. We see here how mercy is to form the decisive rule by which the Lord will pass sentence, and consummate His kingdom. The Son of man appears in His glory, and all His angels with Him, and He sits on the throne of His glory. Thus is the revelation of Christ’s consummated kingdom of glory depicted. All nations are assembled before Him.1 All men come under the judgment of the Christian rule of life; and as a shepherd divides the sheep from the goats, so Christ divides men. He places the sheep on His right, and the goats on His left. Therefore on that day the human race is so matured in the works of separating contrast, that it needs only the coming forth of Christ, only a signal from Him, to complete the separation which had matured in life. Now the merciful are saluted by Christ as the blessed of His Father. In His judgment they have brought the required aid to Him in all His sufferings: they have fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty, taken in the stranger, clothed the naked, visited the sick, sought out the prisoner. But these merciful ones are also the humble; they cannot recollect that they have acted as such angels of mercy on earth. And these humble ones are also the truly Christ-like. For what they have done to the least among them whom Christ calls His brethren, they have done, in His judgment, to Himself. They had, therefore, in their eye not merely the physical in the sufferers, with an unspiritual sensuous sympathy; but they cherished and raised the inner man in them, their Christian destiny and christological dignity. The noble marks of the divine lineage in the unfortunate have attracted and moved them as a life related to their own, and by their charity they have brought them nearer to Christ. ‘Inherit the kingdom,’ Christ says, announcing their reward, ‘prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’ They enter into eternal life as the blessed of the Father, as those who were pervaded by the blessing of the Father. The kingdom of a chosen humanity perfected in the Spirit of Christ, in humility and love, and raised above death, has been founded in them from the beginning, and its completion will be carried on among them in the development of the world, and above them in the administration of the Father. Now this inheritance exists in its bloom, and receives them as the phenomenal world, corresponding to its inner nature. But the wicked will be rejected as the unmerciful, who, in all the relations of misery, have no heart for the destitute. But they reveal themselves, moreover, as the self-righteous, since they are not disposed to convict themselves of negligence in the duty of mercy. But lastly, it contributes to their severest reproach, that they entirely ignored the golden threads of the christological relation which go through all human life, that they have not regarded in man the calling to Christ, and therefore not Christ in humanity. Christ sends them away from Himself as accursed. The word here is no mere term of reproach, but the description of a reality. They are pervaded by the curse as a petrifaction by the stony material (κατηραμένοι). Therefore they will be thrown into the æonian fire, prepared for the devil and his angels; and they will be sent into the æonian punishment. The æonian fire began from the fall of Satan to develop itself in him and in his associates; and in this development a great spiritual torment, a great community of destruction, ripened in humanity. This must separate itself under the sentence of the Lord in the last crisis of the Christian world, as a tormenting fire-æon, from the blessed light-æon of perfected humanity. The Christian development of the world, according to its whole epic course, cannot pass over into a heavenly nature in an idyllic continuity, but must close with a catastrophe-must complete itself in a fiery paroxysm of world-historic magnitude. As in a man with a mortal disease, the departing life at last breaks loose from the stiffening body in a fiery conflict, so at last the world of light will separate itself from the world of the curse-the kingdom of the new humanity perfected in love from the æon of fierce discord, and of an old humanity devouring itself in the doom of egoism, which falls back into the pre-human spirit-regions of the demons. This will take place when the kingdom of Christ in this world has, in its last development, most nearly approached to the kingdom of Christ in the other world, and when, in consequence of reciprocal attraction, this world passes over into the other, and the other into this, so that the barrier falls, and Christ appears in the midst of His people here, or His people appear before His glorious throne there; both in one and the same event. The cycle of the parables of judgment forms also a succession of world-historical pictures, in which retributive justice exhibits the successive great acts of its administration. The parables of the labourers in the vineyard, each of whom receives a penny, of the pounds, and of the talents, reveal the administration of rewarding retribution, and at the same time show how punitive retribution accompanies it as its complement. The first world-picture shows us the action of the energy of the Spirit in the founding of the kingdom of God. The divine justice appears in its unity with grace, since it is altogether spirit; therefore it does not miss its reward, according to the external mode of valuing human work. Human conversion corresponds to it in its spirituality; it raises itself above the loss of time, and can receive and experience from God the blotting out of the guilt of this loss. The second world-picture shows us how the external might of the offices of the kingdom appointed by God gains the world. The nobleman in his appearance is poor, and his servants are poor; but he gains the whole kingdom and puts down the rebellion; while they gain for him the single component parts of his kingdom, according to the measure of the internal energy of the life of their calling. The third world-picture shows us how recompensing justice gives every servant of God a spiritual gain in the kingdom of God, and how it corresponds exactly to the faithful application of His spiritual gifts. But we see punitive justice by the side of the remunerative acting in a threefold manner: the servants of a mercenary, outwardly calculated mechanical service were punished by the disappointment of their outward expectation; the servants of spiritual sloth, by being deprived of their gifts; and the actual rebels against the government of a prince who is identical with grace, by the severe punishments which their own unmercifulness demanded. Then the scenes of judicial justice, in its predominant agency, are announced by the phenomena of its menaces and warnings. We see Death as the messenger of Judgment stalking through the world, and hear in all the paths of mortality the footsteps of the approaching retribution. A whole world of manifestations of divine grace is further shown us in the history of the respited fig-tree, as a numerous group of revelations of long-suffering, in which already the most alarming omens of judgment are disclosed. Then follow the images of the judgment itself. We see how first of all judgment strikes man in general when he despises the invitation of God to the spiritual feast of the divine life in His kingdom, and likewise when he would profane this spiritual feast, and change it into the common carousal of a sinful life. These crimes of despising and desecrating the Eternal appear in an aggravated form as crimes of dishonesty. The unchristian changes into the antichristian, and calls forth a judgment of the rejection of whole communities, as is represented in the parable of the criminal Vinedressers. These special acts of penal justice point to the general judgment as they come forth more distinctly at the end of time. Judgment begins first of all at the house of God. We see in the parable of the foolish virgins, how the dead part of the theocracy, as well as of the Christian Church, is shut out from the festive communion of living believers; and in the parable of the wicked servant, how the hardened individuals among the overseers of the Church must suffer the heaviest retribution. Out of this judgment of the Lord on the Church the judgment on all nations finally unfolds itself. But as rewarding justice is always complemented by punitive justice, so this again is also accompanied by the former, which is constantly unfolding the divine affluence of its grace. For God changes not towards man, but man changes towards Him; and in this change a separation according to their opposite tendencies is produced, which is constantly widening, till at last a separation which reaches to the bottomless pit is consummated in the last judgment. Hence the completed condemnation of the ungodly is the completed redemption of the godly. The separation of the æon of light and the æon of the curse in the last crisis of the history of humanity, forms therefore the completion of the Christian kingdom of God. In this manner Christ has delivered to His people the doctrine of the founding of the kingdom of God, in parables which form themselves into a system with wonderful fulness and distinctness. The very name of this institution characterizes its nature. It is the kingdom of God1 in opposition to the kingdom of this world-the completed theocracy. While the ancient theocracy exhibited itself in the individual inspired flashes of the prophets, and thus its peculiar function consisted in momentary flowings forth of eternity into time, this kingdom of God is a firmly established kingdom of human spirits, in which God Himself rules as King, and His Spirit as the supreme law of life, and the union of human hearts with God in His royal supreme will is its peculiar life-element. This kingdom is also, according to its nature, equally the kingdom of heaven;2 an ideal state, or a state of ideality, of the purest distinctness and action of all relations in the unity of a heavenly, consecrated life. That which makes heaven to be heaven is the perfect elevation of all its phenomena into its idea, or its ideality. But its idea is its consecration to God. In that, therefore, consists the holiness of heaven, that it rises into this divine consecration. The kingdom of heaven is consequently an institution pure and consecrated as heaven itself. Hence the Lord can recognize the kingdom of heaven in no state of inferior purity. But this institution is also termed ‘the kingdom’ simply (Matthew 13:19, &c.), because in it the perfected human society, the eternal organism, is realized in the essential relations of humanity. This organism culminates, and has its point of unity, in a head animating all the members, that is, in Christ, and hence this kingdom is also called the kingdom of Christ (Matthew 13:41; John 18:36, &c.) But since this kingdom has been prepared by the theocratic plan of the entire world-history, and since, according to this great historical development, it has appeared first of all in a prefigurative form in the Old Testament consecrated kingdom, it has been also named after that typical kingdom in its greatest splendour, and thus is called the kingdom of David (Mark 11:10). The head of this kingdom is also its principle. Its first, unrecognized appearance in the world is the person of Christ Himself. This kingdom flourishes in His heart, in His Spirit, and begins to unfold itself in His works. The King of truth is the soul of the kingdom of truth; therefore on His appearance the proclamation is made, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand!’ But the historic goal of this kingdom is the completion of the Christian æon, the appearance of the glory of Christ in the perfected manifestation of the glory of His Church, and the glorification of the Church by the appearance of the Lord. The leading outlines of that completion of the ancient æon, upon which the new æon of the kingdom makes its appearance, are the following:-The life of Christ, as the vital principle of humanity, has completed its regeneration. The palingenesia is effected in the core of humanity to such a degree that a new humanity exhibits itself in perfect beauty as a splendid organism which shines forth in eternity, and from which the image of God is reflected (Matthew 19:28). The earth itself is drawn upwards in this palingenesia. Its ethereal light-image has become complete with the new humanity, and issues forth as a heavenly star from the cloud of its humiliation (Matthew 5:14; Luke 12:49).1 The appearance of Christ is accomplished in this way, that the interval between this world and the next is removed by the completed victory of the Christian spirit (Matthew 24:14). The kingdom of God, therefore, is in constant development between these two points of its life-between its principle, the invisible life of Christ, resting in the depths of heaven and of humanity, and between that glorious appearance of the transformed human world resting in the depths of the future. The question now presents itself, by what means is the life of Christ changed into the life of humanity? The first means by which the life of Christ becomes the life of the world, is the word of Christ, the Gospel (Matthew 13:3; Matthew 13:19). It is secured to the world by a perpetual ordinance of Christ in the evangelical office of teaching.2 But the teaching of Christ is from the first quite identical with His life, and therefore His life exhibits itself in a second means, in His collective heavenly doings (John 2:18). But His course of conduct and His works are secured to His Church by the calling of His witnesses (Acts 1:8). But Christ’s doings are completed only in His sufferings and death. His death is the redemption of the world (Matthew 26:28). And His death is continually incorporated with the world by the confession of His people (Matthew 16:24-25). And as Christ has completed His work in His own eternal Spirit, so also it can be completed in the hearts of His people only by the same Spirit (John 16:7). With His Spirit, His life and sufferings first become a peculiar possession of His people in their unity, power, and depth, as a full divine work, and by the life of His Spirit they become His Church. By His Church, then, the life of Christ is transplanted into the world (John 17:18). But how is His Church to be recognized? In this way, that they exhibit His life in their life (John 13:35); that they miss His visible presence with consciousness and earnest longing, and hope with firm confidence for His return (John 14:27-28); and that, in the certainty of His spiritual presence, they express this intermediate state by celebrating the communion according to His institution-the present and future communion by the rite of holy baptism, the past communion by partaking of the holy supper (Matthew 28:19; Luke 22:19). In the holy sacraments the Church comprehends all the means, as given by the Lord, by which the kingdom of God in it and by it is established in the world-the word, the doing, and the suffering of Christ, His Spirit and His future appearance. In the moments of true communion the Church for an instant enters into that appearance it shines in an anticipated lustre of the kingdom (Mark 14:24-25; Luke 22:29-30). By the continual use of these means the Church is constantly advancing towards its manifestation, urged on by the power of Christ’s life; and this movement is healthful in proportion as the means co-operate in living unity, and as it is carried on with a reference to both points. Consequently, the progress of the Christian palingenesia is always arrested where the sacraments are administered, without the living word, or where the word is proclaimed without the exhibition of its power of manifestation in the sacraments, or where the word and the sacraments are administered disconnectedly, because the spirit that unites the two elements is not sought by prayer. But if, on the one hand, the manifestation of the kingdom of Christ is prematurely exhibited in a State where the ecclesiastical power is supreme, this is a too active manifestation, that goes beyond the truth and loses itself in illusions, in which the vital principle of the palingenesia must more and more be lost And if, on the other hand, the word of Christ should be made a mere scholastic term, so that the sense of the need of communion, to say nothing of longing after the manifestation of Christ and His glory in humanity, is continually diminishing,-this is a spiritualism which cannot be recognized as the spiritual life of the Word made flesh, and is not capable in the least of effecting the regeneration of the world. Therefore, where there is no well-developed Christian communion, no guarantee can exist that the Christian life will be active in its vital principle; and where the communion goes beyond its destination, and is changed into a State organism, it is a sure sign that it operates no longer deeply and with perfect fidelity as the spirit of regeneration. The communion in its ideal form is therefore the constant living medium between the throne of the invisible Christ and His future appearing. And thus through Christian fellowship His life mingles itself in its separate elements with the life of the world. His word is the law of the kingdom and of life to it. Were it governed by an inferior law, it would not be the communion of Christ. But it makes His word not immediately the political life-law of the world. If it attempted this, it would change Christ into a Moses, and Christianity into Judaism, instead of being the medium of imparting His life to the world. But it feels that the latter object is its vocation, and proves it, since by ingrafting Christ’s words on the morals and laws of the world, it constantly keeps in view its final aim that the world may become the kingdom of Christ. And in the same way it imparts the mysteries of its doctrine, as well as its whole life. If it were to subtract anything from the original fulness of Christianity, it would damage the institution which it was appointed to maintain, and evermore adulterate it with the heathenism of the natural worldly mind. If, on the other hand, it were disposed to make this institution predominant in the world at the cost of human freedom, it would change Christianity into Judaism. Rightly to bring the institution of Christ into harmony with the freedom of the human mind and conscience, is a task infinitely difficult, and yet blessed in itself and in its consequences. It results from the magnitude of this task that the kingdom of God can only by slow degrees attain the maturity of its manifestation in the world, and that the exact time of its future cannot be computed (Mark 13:32). Further, it results from its free spiritual character, that the kingdom of God cannot be exhibited prematurely in heavenly purity (Matthew 13:30), but that, nevertheless, its sanctification must be aspired after, according to the measure of its vital principle, its spirit, and its aim. Hence the firm planting of the kingdom of God is effected by a continual movement, which, on the one hand, always exhibits the entire fulness of the divine mercy, in the reception of all who stand in need of salvation (Matthew 18:21-35), and on the other hand, the entire severity of the divine judgment, in the constant exclusion of all by the ecclesiastical discipline, who would bring scandals into the Church. On the other hand, this movement has not its full energy, or rather it is depressed by hindrances in the same proportion as admission is effected with carnal rigour or facility; or as the exclusion with similar carnality, is carried to the length of political persecution, or is neglected to the loss of the social sense of honour in the members of the Church. But all defects in the progress of the Church, between the manifestation of mercy and of judgment, will be corrected and rendered complete by the great administration of mercy and of justice by the Lord over the Church. They will be rectified: the Lord receives the merciful Samaritan in a thousand forms into the communion of His people, and ejects the guest without the wedding garment, as well as the evil servant, with a fearful doom from the communion. They will be rendered complete: the Church itself, like the world, is an object of the completed judgments and mercies of the Lord; and in a mysterious reciprocal action between the formation of the Church for the world, and the world for the Church, the time advances, when with mighty throes the epoch of the final decision suddenly comes. On the one hand, mercy celebrates its manifestation in the living images which are filled by it, and become its perfected organ, its everlasting feast in the kingdom of love. Then, on the other hand, justice celebrates its glorification, since the condemned exhibit its administration, and must justify it in their own persons in the kingdom of inflexible wrath and vengeance. But justice and mercy are never separated, although their æons, when completed, separate from one another in humanity. Justice reveals itself to the Church of the saved in the holiness of love. But the multitude of the reprobate is involved in the darkness of a corresponding æon, by a compassion which has veiled itself in punitive justice. But the kingdom of God is then completed, when in this manner Christ has communicated His blessedness to the new humanity. The Church is united to Him as His bride. It is therefore wholly participant of His life, and enters into the inheritance of His glory. And if a region is situated opposite this Church, in which the despising of His life is punished by an æonian spiritual agony, it is shown by this how men are struck in its depths by His rays, and shaken to bow the knee in His name, and in the relation of their life to Him to occupy the right position in the kingdom of spirits (Php 2:10-11). ======================================================================== CHAPTER 82: 02.085. PART IV ======================================================================== PART IV THE PUBLIC APPEARANCE AND ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION OF CHRIST ======================================================================== CHAPTER 83: 02.086. SECTION I ======================================================================== SECTION I the public testimony of the baptist to christ before the jewish rulers WHILE Jesus was fighting in the wilderness with the temptation which met Him under the form of the distorted Messianic hopes of His age, and in this victorious conflict developed the course of His Messianic work, the same hopes induced the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem to send a deputation to John the Baptist. John had made a powerful impression, not only on the people in general, but also on their leaders, the Pharisees, many of whom, as we have already noticed, were so carried away by the popular enthusiasm as to submit to his baptism. Gradually a more distinct judgment had been formed in the Sanhedrim respecting the unquestionable importance of so extraordinary a theocratic undertaking. They had arrived at the conviction, that a man who, on good grounds, could venture to subject the nation to such a purification, which implied a previous excommunication, must be either the Messiah Himself, or one of His forerunners who was announced as Elias by the prophets, or the prophet promised by Moses (Deuteronomy 18:15; John 1:25). But if the Baptist by his course of action, set forth such extraordinary claims, it was an official duty on the part of the Sanhedrim to take cognizance of it, and to come to a clear understanding with him. Accordingly this body resolved on sending a deputation to him, which consisted, as a matter of course,1 of priests and Levites. To the priests was entrusted the sanctioning of religious purification, which included the observance of the laws relative to ablutions,2 so that those who were sent on this occasion might be regarded as duly qualified commissioners. They were very properly accompanied by Levites, who served in part as an honourable escort, and in part to act, if need be, as a hierarchical police force, should John not be prepared to show his credentials.1 And now, if the deputation accomplish their object, the Baptist must be recognized as one of the great prophets of the Messianic advent, or exposed as a false prophet. But the Jewish national spirit in the high council would be completely misunderstood, and its members would be turned, against their own will, into Roman senators, if we supposed that they were averse to the announcement of the Messiah under every condition. Yet such a judgment has been rashly formed, from the circumstance that, at a later period, the Baptist was not acknowledged by them, and that Jesus was absolutely rejected; while it should be borne in mind that it was precisely by chiliastic-political motives that the Sanhedrim were determined to this course of conduct (see vol. i. p. 385). It could not therefore be the primary aim of this deputation to dispute the claims of the Baptist; it may rather be supposed that they were actuated by chiliastic excitement.2 From the account of the Evangelist John, we see that the deputation must have intimated to the Baptist that he would very likely announce himself as the Messiah. The Sanhedrim, as we have seen, must have regarded his baptism as a phenomenon of the commencing Messianic æon, and in a character who spiritually moved and carried with him the whole nation, they might find a claimant to the Messianic dignity.3 Now it is evident that a question which assumed the possibility that the Baptist might be the Messiah was a great temptation to him. And thus John was tempted at the same time as Jesus. The Evangelist has indicated the force of the temptation by the words, ‘He confessed, and denied not, but confessed, I am not the Christ’ (John 1:20).4 But the Baptist likewise gave a negative to the question whether he was Elias. How could he do that, since it was undeniable that Malachi had announced the forerunner of the Messiah under this designation? This declaration of the Baptist seems also to clash with the language of Christ, who at a later period told His disciples that in the person of the Baptist they might see that Elias who was to precede the Messiah (Matthew 11:14; Matthew 17:10-13). But Zacharias, the father of John, distinctly understood by the revelation of the angel that this identification of Christ’s forerunner with Elias was to be taken in a spiritual sense (Luke 1:17). And in the knowledge of this fact lay the reason of the Baptist’s negative to the question. He was actuated, doubtless, by the same motives as those which induced the Lord in the wilderness to reject the Messianic programme of His time as it was presented to Him. In the same proportion as the image of the Messiah or of the King was distorted into a carnal one, would be the image of His forerunner; or even in a still higher degree, inasmuch as this misrepresentation was carried to the length of expecting the return literally of the ancient prophet Elias. When, therefore, the Jews asked him, Art thou the Elias of the Messianic advent? the question probably meant, Art thou that Elias who was translated to heaven, returning at the founding of a new æon? And taking it in this sense, John answered, ‘No!’ and in saying that, he did not deny that he was the Lord’s forerunner in the spirit and power of Elias, for that was testified by his whole life, by his daily ministry. Under similar circumstances, Christ expressed Himself even with more caution and reserve. He avoided the misinterpretation of His Messianic calling, without the risk of fostering the opposite error, that He disowned all claim to be regarded as the Messiah.1 Lastly, the Baptist answered in the negative the inquiry of the deputation, whether he was ‘The Prophet’ (ὁ προφήτης), namely, that particular prophet whom the Jews, according to the promise of Moses, expected before the beginning of the new era. For this he had still greater reason, because such a representation of this Prophet had not become a general definite expectation among his nation. The genuine children of the theocratic spirit referred the passage to the Messiah Himself (Acts 3:22). Now, if the Baptist also received this exposition, as must be admitted, the question in this sense would be a repetition of the first question, which he had already met with a negative. But others expected, according to the same passage, that one day Jeremiah would return and take part in the renovation of the theocracy. By others, again, Joshua was pointed out as the person to be expected.2 It is quite plain that John could not give assent to preconceptions of this kind. But though some persons in Israel had regarded the Prophet simply as the forerunner of Christ, John could not admit that this was the meaning of the official inquiry addressed to him; hence he gave a most decided negative also to this question. Thus, then, John repelled three tempting questions, which were animated by the same spirit as the three temptations which Christ conquered in the wilderness. It has been thought surprising that the deputation asked the Baptist whether he was ‘the Prophet,’ after putting the question to him whether he was the Christ or Elias. If it were possible to consider the Prophet as identical with Christ, or with Elias, in both cases the question had already been settled. But probably the deputation already entertained one of those views which were developed more distinctly in the latter Jewish traditions; probably they understood Jeremiah by ‘the Prophet,’ and in that case the question was perfectly necessary. But even on the opposite supposition, if they held ‘the Prophet’ to be identical with Elias or with the Christ, still they knew not what the Baptist on his part thought on this point. Hence this third question was unavoidable, and its insertion marks the diplomatic exactness of the authorities, and indirectly the historical fidelity of the whole narrative. But if we view the series of questions in relation to their final object, we shall find that they are very carefully arranged. Was John, for instance, the Messiah, then his warrant for baptizing was placed beyond all doubt; was he the second Elias, it would stand equally firm; was he, lastly, ‘the Prophet,’ still its validity would be allowed. When the deputies from the Sanhedrim pressed the Baptist to declare at last who he was, he answered them: ‘I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Esaias’ (40:3). As Christ veiled His Messianic call in the most spiritual designation, which was diametrically opposed to the carnal enthusiasm of His nation, by calling Himself the Son of Man, so the Baptist chose the most delicate and spiritual characteristic of the forerunner, as he found it in the prophet Isaiah. That voice of one crying in the wilderness was primarily the theocratic presentiment, incorporating itself in prophecy, of the return of Israel from exile, as it would be accomplished under the spiritual guidance of Jehovah. But the Baptist rightly saw the highest fulfilment of that passage in the Israelitish presentiment of the advent of the Messiah, which had formed itself into a voice in his person.1 Yet the Jewish mind was not in a state to discover the deeper and more spiritual references of the Old Testament Scriptures, and on that account this interpretation was not received in the schools of the scribes. Hence the deputation took no notice of the positive declaration of the Baptist, and now asked him in the form of a reprimand, ‘Why baptizest thou then?’ This ministration appeared to them an unallowable undertaking if he could not substantiate his claim to either of the titles adduced.2 But John felt his ground; he answered firmly, ‘I baptize;’ but when he added, ‘with water,’ he passed a judgment on his baptism which he set in opposition to the judgment of the Sanhedrim. To them, this ritual observance appeared of extraordinary importance; to him, on the contrary, it appeared of extraordinary insignificance, because the vastly superior agency which the Messiah would shortly exert was always present to his thoughts. But while he depreciated his own baptism, he also justified its use, by announcing to the deputation that the Messiah was already nigh at hand. Even now He is in your midst, and ye know Him not-even Him who cometh after me, and yet was before me.3 So mysteriously and yet so distinctly did the Baptist speak of the Messiah, while he also had a feeling of the discrepancy between the expectations of His people and the character of Him who was about to appear. The Messiah had become a public character for His people, and therefore had come into their midst, when He accredited Himself to the person who was appointed by God to announce His appearance. But when the Baptist designates the personage who was to come after him as ‘He who was before him,’ he expresses the essential priority or princely dignity of Christ, His essential precedence to himself in the kingdom of God. Such a twofold relation exists even in the case of a common herald. The herald outwardly hastens on before the prince, but the prince possessed his dignity before him, and made him a herald, and, according to the privilege of his rank, the prince preceded him. The herald is the outward forerunner of the prince, but the prince is the spiritual forerunner of the herald. But if the Baptist had the full impression that in his calling he was entirely regulated by the higher calling of Christ, that his dignity was derived from Christ’s dignity, and if he declared that Christ had this priority in the theocracy, he expressed at the same time the essential priority of Christ in the eternity of God; for the one is not without the other. We have not here to examine how clearly and comprehensively he thus developed, theologically, the eternal existence of Christ. But without doubt he was already more certain of the eternal existence of his own inferior personality in God, than many theologians are certain of the eternal existence of Christ. John knew that Christ in His spiritual essence had exerted His agency throughout the Old Testament dispensation, and was undoubtedly the King of Israel. Hence he declared that he was not worthy to loosen His shoe-latchet. He was willing to vanish, with all his works, before the glory of the Lord, and with this feeling he dismissed the deputation from Jerusalem, who were so destitute of the fitting presentiments as to regard his water-baptism as the greatest event of the times. We have already seen how extremely improbable it is, that the deputation should not be anxious to have an exact description of the outward appearance of a personage whom the Baptist had thus magnified, and how much it accorded with the duty of the Baptist to give them such a description. Hence we may confidently assume that the deputation returned with highly raised expectations, after receiving such an account of the person and presence of the Messiah. It is an important circumstance, that this conference took place at Bethany, on the other side Jordan, where John was then baptizing; so that the deputation must needs return home through the wilderness, in which John was tarrying. In the meantime, it was quite a matter of uncertainty what judgment the Sanhedrim would form in the sequel respecting John. That judgment would now depend on the question, what relation the Sanhedrim would assume towards Jesus. As soon, therefore, as a collision took place between the spirit of that body and the spirit of Christ, as, according to the view we have taken, must have happened at the close of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness, the Jewish authorities would come to a rupture with the Baptist. But since the people, and even many members of their own body, had already done him homage, it suited their policy to conduct themselves towards him, and to express their opinion respecting him, with the greatest reserve. Yet they were not able to conceal the contradiction which existed between their earlier personal homage and their later official reserve. The Lord could reproach with unbelief towards John, men who at one time resorted to the Jordan (Luke 7:33). If, therefore, the Evangelists appear to contradict one another when in one place they report (Matthew 3:7) that many Pharisees came to John, and in another that the Pharisees and scribes were not baptized of him (Luke 7:30), a real and striking fact is exhibited in a very characteristic manner. The ambiguous position which the Jewish rulers occupied in relation to the question whether John was a prophet, was founded on the constant embarrassment they felt, owing, on the one hand, to John’s decisive testimony to Christ, and, on the other, to the decisive opinion of the people in favour of John. Hence Christ, towards the close of His career, when they questioned His authority, probably to execute the purification of the temple, with the most wonderful sagacity proposed to them a counter-question, and showed that He saw into the very depths of their evil conscience,-the question whether the baptism of John rested on divine authority, or was an arbitrary human institution (Matthew 21:24). They confessed their inability to answer the question-a confession most disgraceful to the tribunal they formed-rather than they would express a decision either for or against the Baptist; a proof how completely they were non-plussed by the question of Jesus. The fact that the Jewish rulers never ventured to form an official judgment respecting the Baptist, confirms in a very significant manner the account of the Evangelist John, that the Baptist had, by a solemn testimony, directed the people through their rulers to Christ, and that Christ expressly appealed to this testimony (John 5:33, &c.) But since John testified so publicly of Christ, he linked His fate with his own; and Herod Antipas probably considered the outrage he committed on the stern preacher of repentance as greatly favoured by the circumstance that his authority had not been supported by the Sanhedrim. notes 1. Von Ammon, in his Geschichte des Lebens Jesu (i. 261), remarks, ‘Full freedom of opinion and of public speaking prevailed among the Israelites as long as the fundamental doctrines of the law were not endangered, as we find also among Christians in the time of Paul at Corinth (1 Corinthians 14:29). If, on the other hand, a Chakam or Rabbi indulged in attacks on the Mosaic theocratic constitution, the Lesser or Greater Sanhedrim, and the high-priestly board especially, was authorized to interfere constitutionally, and to call the innovating teacher to account respecting his authority for such proceedings (Vitringa, De Synagogâ vetere, p. 866). This was done by the Great Sanhedrim in the case of Jesus, and previously in reference to the Baptist.’ 2. The fact of the testimony of the Baptist to Jesus is disputed by the latest critics. Weisse even thinks that true faith in the divine revelation in Christ requires most peremptorily a deviation from the letter of the Gospel narrative in reference to this testimony. Strauss adduces a series of reasons for setting aside this testimony. First of all, the later sending of the Baptist to Christ. This we shall consider in its proper place. A real difficulty brought forward also by others is the question, why the Baptist still continued to baptize, and why he did not rather join himself to Jesus? But this question has weight only as long as the significance of John’s baptism is not clearly understood. John could not venture to cease purifying the old Israelitish congregation for the Church of the Messiah, as long as any unbaptized persons resorted to him. His attachment to Christ, therefore, was evinced by remaining at his post, and by fulfilling the vocation given him by God as the labour of his life. As all the other Israelites who were believers in Christ were not called to join themselves to Him as disciples in the more special sense, so neither was this the case with John. Rather would he have been unfaithful to his christological calling, had he relinquished his baptismal office. It is further alleged that John, on his ‘contracted stand-point,’ was unable to form a conception of that higher one which Jesus occupied (i. 377). Here again the author constructs a psychology at his own hand. This time he sets out on an assumption of ethical pitifulness, owing to which men on lower stand-points cannot help making mistakes when they look up to a man who stands higher than themselves. We are here reminded of the self-denial with which Farel implored Calvin to remain at Geneva,1 and the earlier judgments of Erasmus on Luther, and other similar facts. Even Bodmer’s behaviour towards Klopstock and Wieland’s judgment on Göthe (Weisse, i. 271, and Ebrard) may be here adduced. In the history of modern philosophy, the author might indeed believe he could find vouchers for his canon. But the assumption was quite false, that the ethical ability of humanity is to be estimated according to that individual philosopher. Further on we meet with the well-known quick evolutions of sophistical dexterity (p. 379). ‘According to Matthew 11:2 and Luke 7:18, John sends two disciples to Christ with the doubting inquiry whether He was the ἐñìåíïò, while according to the fourth Gospel he directed likewise two disciples to Him, but with the definite assertion that Jesus was the ἀìíὸò ָוןῦ, &c.’ The reader can supply the et cetera in the well-known style of this writer. As to the relation of the Baptist to Jesus generally, Strauss defines it in a manner which has drawn forth the following remark from Kuhn (das Leben Jesu, i. 223):-‘In order to convict the synoptical representation of a legendary character, it is assumed that the Baptist and Jesus were not acquainted with one another at an early period; in order to set aside St John’s representation as unhistorical, the very opposite is assumed, that the two men were well acquainted with one another in early life. This I call a splendid specimen of critical art, which (as Lichtenberg playfully tells Philadelphia), to speak without bragging, goes far beyond the miraculous; indeed, so to speak, is absolutely impossible!’ As to the supposition that the Baptist and Jesus were early acquainted with one another, Strauss thus expresses himself: ‘John allows the Baptist to make rather the opposite assertion, but only because another interest, the one just noticed, preponderated in his mind.’ 3. Bethany on the other side Jordan is to be distinguished from the Bethany not far from Jerusalem. Origen, as Lcke remarks, has altered it to Bethabara, against all, or almost all, the manuscript authorities.1 ‘It may be admitted that the place, as was often the case, had two names of similar meaning-Beth-abara, αΜΕιϊ ςΒαΘψΘδ Passage-house or Ford-house, and Bethany, perhaps from áÌÅéú àÃðÄéÌÈä Ship-house.’2 Lcke, Commentar, i. 391-395. We may be allowed to conjecture that the name Bethany, Ship-house, which belonged to the palmiest days of Israel, had fallen into disuse when a boat to ferry passengers over was no longer employed, and persons were obliged to wade through, which in favourable seasons was possible in several places, and so the name was changed to Bethabara or Passage-house. This latter designation might perhaps be founded on the recollection that the place in former days, when likewise there was no ferry, was called Bethbarah (Judges 7:24), as it is supposed that this was only a contraction of Bethabara (see Robinson’s Palestine i. 536; Von Raumer’s Palestina, p. 250). ======================================================================== CHAPTER 84: 02.087. SECTION II ======================================================================== SECTION II the testimony of john to the dignity of christ, uttered to his disciples The day after John’s temptation Jesus returned to him from the wilderness, where He also had overcome the last and most violent onset of His great temptation. Both were animated by a lively feeling of victory; and John more than ever was in a state of mind to understand the suffering Messiah, since his own soul was now enjoying the blessedness of a verified renunciation of the world. But a presentiment of His victory on the cross seemed to glorify the whole being of Christ. In this state of mind, and in the beauty of the priestly spirit, He came to the Baptist. How He greeted him-what He announced to him-and in general what passed between them, the Evangelist does not inform us. But he narrates the impression which Jesus at that time made on the Baptist, and which the latter probably communicated, in whole or in part, to his disciples in the presence of Jesus. With deep emotion he exclaimed, ‘Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world!’ The same prophet who, in the voice of one crying in the wilderness, as spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, recognized the serious image of his own life, now beheld with equal clearness the tragical image of the Messiah’s life in the suffering Lamb of God bearing the sins of men, as spoken of by the same prophet. The recognition of the one is closely connected with that of the other. The Baptist might indeed have thought, when he used this expression, of the sacrificial lamb in the Israelitish worship, as it must have been present to the prophet’s mind. But no doubt his expression is founded immediately on the language of the prophet. As he had derived from the prophet the information respecting himself-that he was to be heard as a voice in the wilderness-so he had learned respecting Christ, that He was the Lamb of God described by the prophet, ordained by God, and consecrated to God, and therefore that He must accomplish His redemptive work by unparalleled endurance. At all events, the presentiment of atonement flashed through his soul in this expression. Those who feel themselves placed in a dilemma by this language,-who say, either the Baptist must have propounded a doctrine of atonement dogmatically defined; or he must, at the most, have intended to say that Christ, as the meek One, would remove the sins of the world;1 or, forsooth, with this critic, he could not have uttered the sentence had he not spoken as a dogmatic,2-such persons fail to understand the whole type of prophetic knowledge and illumination. We must, first of all, survey in general the region of the spiritual dawnings of great spirits, if we would distinguish between the momentary flashes of illumination vouchsafed to the prophets and their average knowledge. Respecting the nature of such a difference as it is exhibited in the department of general intellectual life, some great poets of modern times can certainly give us information. They would inform the critic how very often the pregnant language of a man of genius exceeds his everyday insight. Of a prophet this is doubly true; and if John was ever to be the complete herald of Jesus, and therefore the herald of His sufferings, which he was to be, the moment must contribute to it in which he met the Messiah in the identical mood of triumphant renunciation of the world.3 Under these circumstances, the Baptist developed his testimony. ‘This,’ said he, ‘is He of whom I said, After me cometh a Man who is preferred before me, for He was before me.’ In these words he declared that Jesus was identical with the Messiah, whom he had designated in similar terms to the deputation from the Sanhedrim. The words just mentioned form, accordingly, the official testimony of the Baptist, which is found in its original form in his address to the deputation (ver. 26), while here He repeats it before his disciples. But what the Evangelist John had already communicated respecting this testimony, was his own account respecting this second declaration.1 Then he tells his disciples how he arrived at the knowledge of this most important fact. ‘And I knew Him not; but that He should be made manifest to Israel, therefore came I baptizing with water.’ He next utters his testimony respecting the extraordinary event on which his knowledge of the Messiahship of Jesus rested. ‘I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon Him. And I’ (he again affirmed) ‘knew Him not till then.’ Whatever he might at any time have otherwise known of Him as a relation or a friend-all that constituted no prophetic certainty, no divine assurance, of the Messiahship of Jesus. But now he says that he was certain of it; that is, so certain of it, that as a prophet he could testify of Him in Israel.2 For the same Being who had sent him had also given him this sign, that He on whom he should see the Spirit descending and remain would be another Baptizer-One who would baptize with the Holy Ghost. This sign was therefore given him in the same prophetic state of mind in which he had received his own commission. So that, in the same ecstasy in which he had received the divine assurance that he should be the forerunner of the Messiah, he received also the certainty that the want of the fulness of the Spirit marked the difference between himself and the Messiah, and that the Messiah would be manifested to him by the fulness of the Spirit resting upon Him as the real divine baptism. This sign appeared to him over the person of Jesus; wherefore he was now made divinely certain as a prophet. ‘And since I have seen this’ (the Baptist concludes his declaration), ‘I am decidedly convinced that this is the Son of God.’ In these words he expressed in what sense he announced the priority of Jesus to the deputation from the Sanhedrim. On that day he must have expressed himself publicly with the most elevated feelings concerning Jesus. In recollection of that event, the Evangelist writes (ver. 15), ‘John testified of Him (continually). He exclaimed aloud, This was He of whom I spoke: He that cometh after me is preferred before me; for He was before me.’ notes 1. Strauss justly asserts (i. 367) that, according to the fourth Gospel, the Messianic idea of the Baptist has the marks of atoning suffering and of a heavenly pre-existence. But the first objection raised against the truthfulness of such a representation amounts to this-that such a view of the Messiah was foreign to the current opinion. The prophet, therefore, is made dependent on the current opinion, which, moreover, in relation to the Messiah, differed as much in Israel as in Christendom. The second difficulty is presented in the question, If the Baptist knew the mystery of the suffering Messiah, which the disciples of Jesus never knew, how could Jesus declare that he stood low among the citizens of the kingdom of heaven? (Matthew 11:11.) But the greatness of John was the greatness of his personal elevation on the Old Testament stand-point; the greatness of the least in the kingdom of heaven was a generic greatness, or a general elevation on the New Testament stand-point. The least Christian was so far above John and exalted over him as his stand-point was higher-he stood, as we may say, on his shoulders. But it is well to observe, with Hoffmann, that, on the one hand, in John the glimpses of his higher knowledge were not a ripened and developed insight, and that, on the other hand, the disciples of Christ, before His ascension, could not be considered as decided citizens of the kingdom of heaven in its New Testament spiritual glory. Christ discerned the littleness of the great John in this, that, in his Old Testament zeal, he was in danger of being perplexed at his own quiet spiritual working without violent action, while the greatness of the least Christian consisted in understanding this course of Christ in the spirit, and exhibiting it in his own life. If John, as is admitted, in his reference to the Lamb of God, was supported by the passage in Isaiah 53:1-12, his word is a voucher that this passage was referred to the Messiah by the enlightened Israelites of his time. On the meaning of that passage, let the reader consult the admirable discussion by Lcke, Commentar, i. 401-415. The expedients which have been adopted to make the passage in question non-Messianic are at once rendered nugatory, if the principle be first settled, that every prophetic expression in the Old Testament must find its ultimate aim in the Messiah and His kingdom. But this principle results from the whole constitution of the Old Testament prophecy, and nowhere does the Messianic character appear more conspicuous than in the prophecies of Isaiah, without any distinction of the different parts of the book. If we apply this principle to our passage, the sufferings of the servants of God must, at all events, according to the spirit of the prophet, find their highest fulfilment in the person of the Messiah-even should the prophet set out in his contemplation from his own person, or from the elect portion of the theocratic people, or from any historical type whatever of the Messiah. 3. That the πρῶτός μου ἦν (vers. 30, 15) must denote no mere abstract pre-existence of Christ, results indeed, first of all, from the religious weakness of this conception; secondly, from this, that this earlier existence could be no sufficient ground for the earlier authority of Christ in Israel. Rather the predicates, ‘the earliest’ and ‘the only one,’ are always identical when Christ’s priority is spoken of. Christ was before John in Israel, because He was above him in eternity; He had the precedence in rank, because He was his essential Chief (Frst). Hence this testimony of John finds a distinct correspondence in Malachi 3:1, as Hengstenberg has shown in his Christology (iv. 186), and probably there was a conscious reference to it. But, after all, John found the reason for his assertion in the entire Messianic character of the Old Testament. The Messiah as a spiritual form was ‘before’ him in Israel, precisely on account of His eternal glory in God. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 85: 02.088. SECTION III ======================================================================== SECTION III the first disciples of jesus On the next day after the Baptist and Jesus had again met and greeted one another, the former took his station, as usual, on the banks of the Jordan, with two of his disciples by his side. He saw Jesus, as He was walking about, on the point of taking His departure. The Baptist understood His intentions, and fixed his eye upon Him wistfully.1 As the best singers may utter their first notes tremulously,-as a Cicero turned pale when he ascended the rostrum,-as the sun descends with blushes; so it might harmonize with the exquisitely delicate human feelings of the Shepherd of men, to begin His vocation of collecting men around Him with the most tender, virgin-like modesty. John understood the heart of Jesus. Hitherto none of his disciples had been moved by the inspired testimony of the preceding day to attach themselves to Him; the faithful harbinger of the Messiah was therefore induced to repeat the solemn words, ‘Behold the Lamb of God!’ He felt in the delicacy of Christ’s personality all its capability of suffering, and its suffering destiny. But this time his words forcibly struck the two disciples who stood by his side, and they followed Jesus. Jesus understood the sound of their footsteps, and turning round, He said to them, ‘What seek ye?’ This brief expression depicts their eagerness and His clear perception. They ask Him, ‘Teacher, where dwellest Thou? where is Thy abode to-day?’ From this we may infer that the way on which they stopped Him was the first part of His road-a part which, towards evening, He would leave behind. ‘Come and see!’ said the Lord. They came and saw where He dwelt, and abode that day with Him. Thus the simplest conventional intercourse led to the most important results. Of infinite significance was the question of the sympathetic traveller, ‘What seek ye?’ How full of feeling and promise the question in return, ‘Where dwellest Thou?’ uttered in a tone of earnest longing; as much as to say, We too would fain abide there. And lastly, the answer, so rich in promise, ‘Come and see!’ It was about the tenth hour, according to the Jewish reckoning, or four o’clock in the afternoon. The narrator tells us that Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of the two who heard John and followed Jesus. By this form of expression, he leads us to guess who the other was. From the earliest times it has been admitted that it was John himself. It is quite in his style to suppress his own name, or to use a periphrasis.1 Moreover, the conference of the two with Jesus is so vividly in his recollection in its minutest particulars: how they saluted Him by the title of Rabbi, their decisive interlocution, and the hour of their visit to Him-all was indelibly impressed on his memory. They abode with Him that day; but not without going out in order to fetch Simon Peter, the brother of one, and friend of the other.2 Andrew first found him, and announced to him, ‘We have found the Messiah!’ The expectation of the Messiah prevailed generally among the people; but the circle of John’s disciples, to which Peter belonged, lived in the expectation of His speedy advent. They were certain of His very speedy appearance, and lived in a state of intense listening and watching for the signs of it. Therefore, after announcing the Messiah, Andrew led his brother to Jesus. No sooner did Jesus behold him, than He said, ‘Thou are Simon, the son of Jonas (the Dove), thou shalt be called Cephas (the Rock).’3 For the Hebrew, who knew the relation between the dove and the rocks, in which the dove in Judea loved to build her nest, and between the chosen people and the dove,4 which might appear as its symbol, these words contain a great contrast full of promise. Thou art now the son of the shy dove of the rock; in future thou shalt be called the protecting rock of the dove.5 Jesus might know many things about Peter the Galilean fisherman through John the Baptist and the two first disciples, but His own first piercing glance would decide the judgment He passed upon him; and the name which He now gave him He might afterwards confirm, as it was confirmed in the sequel by history.1 On the following day, when Jesus was about to leave the Perean valley of the Jordan in order to go into Galilee,2 He found Philip. The circumstance that he was from Bethsaida on the Galilean Sea, and a fellow-countryman of Andrew and Peter, brought him into the society of Jesus, and at His call he became His disciple. On their way to Galilee-at what place the Evangelist does not tell us-Philip found Nathanael. It has been assumed that this meeting occurred in the neighbourhood of Cana, since Nathanael, according to John 21:2, belonged to that place. We should certainly imagine that the mysterious scene under the fig-tree to which Jesus alludes, points us to the home of Philip, since the Jews were fond of reposing under the fig-trees which adorned their homesteads,3 or resorted to them for meditation and prayer; and since it is most natural to regard the spiritual vision with which Jesus looked on that scene as a consequence of His coming within the immediate sphere of Nathanael’s life. But yet there is no certainty on either point. Or Nathanael, while walking under a fig-tree in a lonely path,4 might indulge in such musings as our Lord would regard as a token of his deep Israelitish sincerity. But how far the feeling and mental eye of Christ, particularly at this time, when He was collecting His first disciples, reached into the distance, and discerned states of mind, which, as earnest longings after the Messiah, indicated a germinant discipleship, and formed a second-sight for His own spirit, we cannot at all determine. No sooner had Philip found Nathanael than he announced to him his new good fortune, the salvation of Israel: ‘We have found Him of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus the son of Joseph, the man of Nazareth’ (John 1:45). Philip himself seems to have felt the contrast he announced; but it does not trouble him. He brings it forward; he lays an emphasis upon it; and is astonished that the Messiah, the son of Joseph, is the man of Nazareth.5 Nathanael at once sceptically seizes on the contrast, and asks, ‘Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?’ Nazareth was therefore, at all events to the man of Cana-who in these words passed so severe a judgment on his neighbours in the mountain district of Galilee-too insignificant, it stood spiritually too low, to expect that from it would come forth the great Prince of His people. It cannot be maintained that Nathanael gave his answer in a proverb. But the proverb which has been formed from these words, from the history of its origin, has become ironical, and means: Out of Nazareth the best thing can come unexpectedly. But as Nathanael was prompt in his judgment and doubt, he was equally prompt in willingness to put his judgment to the test, and to correct it. ‘Come and see!’ Philip replies. Nathanael knew what was due to the vivid conviction of his friend, and to God, who performs the greatest miracles. He therefore goes with Philip in order to see with his own mental eye. And as he approached, Jesus said to those around Him, ‘Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!’ An ‘Israelite indeed’ means, therefore, ‘a truthful Jew.’ Every noble nation finds the firmest foundation of its nationality in truthfulness and fidelity.1 But the Jew, before all others is entitled to this, since in Christ is the deepest life of his nation.2 Nathanael does not disown the eulogium; he affects no false modesty; but he cannot account for its being bestowed, and asks the Lord, ‘Whence knowest Thou me?’ Then the Lord utters a word that startles and agitates him: ‘Before Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee.’ Nathanael now felt that Jesus had beheld a secret of his soul, probably his Israelitish longing after the Messianic kingdom, or after his spiritual reconciliation, such as no man could have detected with his bodily eye-a process of his inner life, in which the faithful Israelitish disposition had been exercised. But by this divine master-glance Jesus had been verified to him as the Messiah. ‘This is an Israelite indeed,’ Jesus had said of him. Nathanael now offers Him homage in a truly graceful manner, by making the acknowledgment-‘Rabbi! Thou art the Son of God! Thou art the King of Israel!’ that is, Thou art the King of the Israelites who are without guile; Thou art my King! Nathanael had believed in Him on account of the sign which Jesus had given him. But Jesus promised him still greater signs in the future, which He expressed with great certainty and solemnity: ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, from this time ye shall see the heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.’3 It is not improbable that this remarkable form of the promise of Jesus has a relation to the state of mind which rendered Nathanael noticeable to Him when under the fig-tree. If he had been praying in those words of the prophet, ‘Oh! that Thou wouldest rend the heavens, that Thou wouldest come down! (Isaiah 64:1)-give me a sign-send me an angel;-this form of the promise of Jesus would be clearly explained. We leave this point undetermined, but certainly the language of Jesus had a reference to Nathanael’s state of mind.1 In these words the Lord cannot possibly refer to the special angelic appearances which occurred in His own life. Rather His language is apparently symbolical. The promise begins to be fulfilled from the time then present (ἀðʼ ἄñôé). The open heaven is the revelation of the fulness of the Godhead disclosed in Himself. And as Jacob in a dream saw the heavens open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the ladder which connected heaven and earth, so now must the real angels of God become manifest in the life of Christ, and exhibit an everlasting movement of mediation, reconciliation, and reunion between heaven and earth. The prayers, the intercession, the works of Christ, and His sacrifice ascend; the visitations, the blessings, the miraculous gifts, the helps, and assurances of peace from God descend. Thus all the longings of Nathanael and his associates must be fulfilled. Nathanael’s name does not occur in the later complete lists of the apostles. But in these generally Bartholomew2 appears next to Philip. Hence it has been conjectured that Nathanael appears again among the apostles in the person of Bartholomew; and since the name Bartholomew is properly only a surname, and means the son of Tholmai, the conjecture is thereby confirmed. At all events, it is not probable that so distinguished a character as this Nathanael, whose call John has narrated with so much interest, should not be admitted among the apostles; and the circumstance is very conclusive, that in the days immediately succeeding the resurrection we find Nathanael among the most confidential disciples of Jesus (John 21:2). John the Baptist, as a faithful forerunner, rendered the Lord the most essential service, by preparing for Him disciples of such worth as John, Andrew, and Peter, and by inducing them, directly or indirectly, to join themselves to Him. But we see how the Lord displays the hand of a master in attracting souls, in winning over to His spiritual communion and enlisting in His service the choicest spirits, while He is regulated by what the Father works for Him in the minds and hearts of men, and by the opportunities presented in His working for the Father. With a quick eagle-eye He recognizes the spirits that are destined for Him; while these hasten to Him with all the decisiveness of satisfied longing, in proportion as they understand the call of their much-loved King in His word. They spread abroad the tidings of His advent among those who are like-minded, with the joyful exclamation, We have found the Messiah! This corresponds to the morning hour of the New Covenant, since all its spiritual conditions are silently matured. It is like a mutual agreement of long standing, ripened in the profoundest depths of the life of which vulgar souls (Philister) have no conception, that the Lord so quickly recognizes His noblest disciples, and that they attach themselves so soon to Him with the most cordial self-surrender. notes 1. The opinion that by the tenth hour (John 1:40), according to the Jewish mode of reckoning, we are to understand four o’clock in the afternoon, has been called in question by Rettig in his exeg. Analekten, in the Theol. Studien, und Kritiken, 1830, Part. i. According to Rettig, John here, as well as in the passages 4:6, 19:14, employed the Roman computation of time, which begins at midnight, so that the tenth hour would mean ten o’clock in the forenoon. Lcke has invalidated this view by the remark, that John could have no reason for adopting the Roman computation instead of that with which he was familiar, since the Asiatic churches, for whom he wrote, used, in common with the Jews, the Babylonian mode of reckoning, namely, the natural day from sunrise to sunset divided into twelve equal parts. As to the passage in John 4:6, A. Schweizer, to obviate the remark that it was not customary to go to the wells at noon, has justly observed, that the woman could hardly have been with Jesus alone so long if the common time for drawing water (six o’clock morning or evening) had been intended. Besides, it may be easily admitted, that a woman of such a character would avoid meeting with other females. The discrepancy that Mark 15:25 gives the third hour as the beginning of the crucifixion, while according to John the sentence of crucifixion was ‘about the sixth hour’ (John 19:14), may be explained, apart from unimportant various readings, by supposing that John made use here of the Roman mode of computation. 2. The first connection of Jesus with Andrew, John, and Peter, which is here narrated, forms no contradiction whatever to the account given by the synoptic Gospels of the later calling of the two pair of brothers, Andrew and Peter, John and James, to a more definite following of Jesus (Matthew 4:18; [Mark 1:16; Mark 1:19]). In the relations of the disciples of Jesus, according to the Gospels, there appears very distinctly an internal and essential gradation, which finds its expression also in their outward calling. The believing disciples of the Lord, as such, were not always called to be His constant associates and messengers, and these, again, were not destined to be apostles in the strict sense. Twelve such apostles Jesus chose: besides these, He had a circle of seventy messengers; but the collective body of disciples at the time of His ascension contained at least one hundred and twenty men (Acts 1:15). It is therefore in perfect correspondence with this gradation, if the first calling is distinguished from the first delegation, and this again from the setting apart of the twelve apostles. And even in this latter circle we find again a special selection, that of the three most confidential witnesses of Jesus. Strauss (i. 549) is justified in finding in the words of Christ, ἀκολούθει μοι, ‘the junction of a permanent relation;’ but he has not taken into account that the junction of a permanent relation is to be distinguished from the junction of a peculiar relation. And the circumstance that the first disciples were in constant attendance on Jesus did not make them His evangelists, any more than the female disciples became evangelists, though they constantly accompanied Him. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 86: 02.089. SECTION IV ======================================================================== SECTION IV the marriage at cana (John 2:1-11) On the third day, says the Evangelist, without defining the time more exactly, there was a marriage at Cana. We cannot well find this more exact definition in the nearest preceding datum, because one such special reference has to be given. The general statement, ‘on the third day,’ leads us to expect that the first and second have been enumerated. And so, in fact, we find it. The Evangelist reckons from the day when Jesus returned from the wilderness to the Baptist, which followed the day on which John the Baptist at the Jordan had borne that great testimony to Jesus. At that time Jesus was still concealed, although He stood in the midst of Israel. But from this time, the Evangelist wishes us to understand, He became manifest in a quick succession of mighty works of the revelation and recognition of His glory. On the next day after the testimony of the Baptist, Jesus returned from the wilderness, and the Baptist publicly and solemnly pointed to Him as the Messiah of Israel (John 1:29). The following day John repeated this demonstration, which induced Andrew, John, and Peter to join themselves to Jesus as His first disciples (John 1:35). But on the third day the spiritual power of the Lord gained two new followers of importance, Philip and Nathanael (John 1:44). This is reckoned the third day since the return of Christ from the wilderness, and the same day on which the marriage feast at Cana in Galilee began, which soon led to a fresh glorification of Jesus.1 On the day, therefore, when this marriage feast began, Jesus set out from the first travelling station in the Jordan valley, in order to go to Galilee. As it took Him two days to reach Cana, the marriage feast when He arrived had already lasted two days. The men of Galilee who had now become His disciples, and had no more to do with John in Perea, were naturally His fellow-travellers, not only as disciples and friends, but as going homewards. They came with Him to Nazareth, where they did not find the mother of Jesus, as she was now at Cana beyond Nazareth, at the marriage feast with her friends.1 Thither Jesus was now invited with His disciples.2 The mother of Jesus was certainly well aware of the significance of her Son’s visit to the Baptist, and met His return home with joyful anticipation. Doubtless the family circle at Cana, where the marriage feast was held, shared in the same sentiments. It so happened that the duration of the feast had been prolonged,3 and that the bridegroom, in the glow of excitement, had suddenly issued invitations for an additional number of guests-invitations which were totally unconnected with the first formal arrangements of the feast, and which as a bold outgush of Christian presentiment went far beyond the calculations of the Jewish mind. But soon the true friend of Mary and of the Lord had to repent of this open-heartedness as an act of imprudence. The wine began to run short; and with the approaching deficiency the festive mood of the worthy couple seemed likely to be extinguished. The Jewish mind, which also regulated conduct in the strictest legal manner, caused those who were thus depressed to feel their perplexity as a fearful burden. The mother of Jesus was initiated into the domestic trouble. ‘They have no wine!’ Thus Mary deplored confidentially to her Son the distress of the family. Some explain the words as meaning that Mary meant to call upon the Lord to perform a miracle at once. Others imagine that she wished to intimate that it was time for Him and His disciples to take their departure.4 Sagacious expositors! Might not a religious disposition generally, to say nothing of female tenderness, lead her to lament to the benevolent Lord a want of her own or of others, without prescribing to Him the way and manner of rendering help? And in this, indeed, Mary’s female excellence was conspicuous, that she vented her sorrow in such a spirit, resigned and not prescribing. The Lord answered her, ‘That is My concern, not thine, O woman!’ Or, in other words, Let Me alone, leave that to Me, thou troubled, tender-hearted one!1 He added, ‘My hour is not yet come.’ His hour was His own time, as the Father determined it, for acting or suffering by the occasion and in His own mind, in opposition to the hour which was marked out for Him by the approval of men.2 Therefore this reference to His hour was a consolatory assurance to His mother that He was certain of the right moment for the right result. Hence also Mary could intimate to the servants, who knew that the wine was running short, and in their position would be most of all uneasy, that they had only to do whatever Jesus told them. This language by no means implied the promise of a miracle, of which she herself knew nothing yet, but the tranquillizing power of an unshaken confidence, which expected that at the right time He would certainly obviate the difficulty as a trustworthy adviser and helper. Now there were standing in the house six water-pots of stone, containing two or three baths3 apiece. They were set apart for the purpose of the Jewish rites of cleansing. These vessels Jesus commanded the attendants to fill with water, and then to draw the liquor from them and take it to the governor4 of the feast. They did so. But their doing so leads us to infer the existence of a wonderfully elevated tone of feeling in the whole household. If even the servants exhibited such unreserved confidence in the words of Jesus, we may admit that the festive feeling had resolved itself into a deep devotion to His person, and a blessed experience of the fulness of His Spirit and His love. The whole company were now gradually raised above their ordinary state of feeling, as at a later period the three disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration. In the element of this state of feeling Christ changed the water into wine.1 The governor of the feast tasted the new beverage without knowing whence it came. It was another, more generous wine than that which he had drunk at first, as he testified to the bridegroom with unfeigned pleasure. Thou hast reversed the ordinary custom, he said to him: every man at the beginning sets forth good wine, and when they have drunk enough, that which is inferior; but thou hast kept the good wine till now.2 We cannot suppose that the governor of the feast wished to find fault openly with the earlier wine which had been furnished by the bridegroom. When, therefore, he praised the new wine as the good, he bore testimony to it as a peculiar and most generous kind of wine, and to the elevation of feeling with which he drank it. Thus Christ transported a circle of pious and devoted men to heaven, and gave them to drink from the mysterious fountain of His highest life-power. He showed how in His kingdom want vanishes in the riches of His love-water in the wine of His wonder-working divine power-the common pleasure of conviviality in the intoxication of delight which is connected with the first enjoyment of the vision of His glory. It was no nectar, but a divine beverage, into which the water was changed. The work, therefore, was the signal of His world-transforming heart-power; and thus the beginning of His miracles, the first sign by which He manifested His glory. His disciples were already devoted to Him by faith; but now their faith gained such a new impulse, that John could describe it as a new era in their life of faith in the words, ‘And His disciples believed on Him’ (John 2:11).3 notes 1. According to Wieseler (Chronol. Synops. 252), the beginning of the Passover (the 15th of Nisan in the year 781)4 which Jesus, according to John 2:12, attended a few days after the marriage at Cana, fell on the 30th of March. If now, Wieseler remarks, He came, according to the Jewish custom, on the 10th of Nisan to Jerusalem, and if we reckon three or four days for the journey thither, He must have set out from Capernaum not later than March 21. Moreover, some days must be reckoned backwards, which he spent at Capernaum. Add to this the undetermined sojourn of Christ at Cana; but which was probably only one day, at the most two days; and then, lastly, the three glorious days of the first victory of Christ after His return from the wilderness. It is, indeed, not necessary to suppose, with Wieseler, that His stay at Capernaum occupied the remainder of March. Let us also reckon some days after the return of Christ from the wilderness to the marriage at Cana, as the aforesaid critic has done (see Wieseler, p. 252). Thus we need not go beyond March into February in order to reach the moment when Nathanael probably was reposing under the shade of the fig-tree. Probably the deputation to John was planned in the Sanhedrim, in consequence of the fresh influx of pilgrims for baptism, which commenced in the spring of the year 781. 2. From the History of the Life of Jesus by Von Ammon, we learn many interesting particulars respecting the wines of the ancients, especially those of the Hebrews. One fact especially is brought forward, that the Jews had inspissated and spiced liqueur-wines, like the Greeks and Romans,-vinous substances which required to be mixed with a large quantity of water. After these preliminary observations, Von Ammon remarks, that Jesus changed these water-pots into wine-vessels, in order to show ‘a delicate attention to the newly-married couple.’ The wine He presented to them was better and stronger than the weak and diluted liquor which in their straitened circumstances they had previously offered their guests, yet not unmixed, but less abundantly watered; on account of its agreeable and superior vinous quality, it found great favour with the master of the feast. ‘But what happened in the interval, whether the water-pots were empty and soon filled up to the brim, we do not know,’ &c. Such theology as this veils from our inquisitive gaze the mysteries of a public-house, but leaves us with strange forebodings. 3. According to Dr Von Baur, in his essay on the composition and character of John’s Gospel, in Zeller’s Theol. Jahrbcher, the history of the marriage at Cana is to be viewed as an allegory, in which the relation of Christ to John is represented. ‘Why should this not be granted, if water with perfect propriety is to be taken as the element and symbol of the Baptist, that by the wine is to be understood the high pre-eminence of the Messiah above His forerunner, and by the change of water into wine the transition and advance from the preparatory stage of the Baptist to the Messianic agency and glory?’ On the mental prejudice, which is not in a state to grasp the historic reality of evangelic ideas, see the First Book of this work, vol. i. p. 96. Certainly the allegorists understand things after a very peculiar fashion, who regard reality as so trivial that history will vanish at once from their view wherever they can see a conceit glimmering, while they perform a splendid counter-miracle to that of Cana, namely, that of changing the wine of evangelical reality into the water of vapid conceit.1 4. Among other things, it has been objected to the miracle at Cana: ‘Moreover, miracles are always beneficial because they remove a natural defect; but what the Lord is said to have done at Cana did not aim at the removal of a natural evil, but only to reanimate an interrupted pleasure’ (Strauss, ii. 211). Maier in his commentary on this passage (John 2) justly points out, that the same critics bring into comparison the other miraculous narratives in the Gospels, of which they deny collectively the objective truth; therefore they assume a point of comparison which on their stand-point does not exist. This belongs to the long catalogue of those self-contradictions of the critics, who put us in mind of the history of Susanna. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 87: 02.090. SECTION V ======================================================================== Section V the first messianic attendance of jesus on the passover, and the purification of the temple (John 2:12-25) From Cana Jesus directed his course to Capernaum, accompanied by His mother, His brethren, and His disciples. There were various reasons for going down from the mountain district to the sea-shore. Most of the new friends of Jesus lived near the sea; and as they had not yet given up their wonted occupation, their presence at home might be required not only by their families, but by their business. Thus, for instance, Peter was a householder in Capernaum (Matthew 8:14). It was natural that the Lord should give His company to His friends, as they had accompanied Him, when they had to leave their own home. At Cana a fellowship had been formed between His first natural family and the new spiritual family which now belonged to Him. This fellowship was celebrated by their travelling together, when the Lord’s spiritual associates surrounded Him full of admiration and hope. But the approach of the Passover formed a special reason why Jesus and His followers should go to Capernaum. Probably a large company of pilgrims set out from that place, and already pilgrims began to flock thither. And as it would be a point of consequence to Him to move in a circle which would give full scope for His exertions, He would greatly prefer going up to Jerusalem in the centre of such a caravan. Though Jesus stayed only a few days in Capernaum, this time was sufficient for an opportunity of manifesting His Messianic spirit and calling. Among the excited crowds in that city, whose attention must have been directed towards Him by the testimony of His devoted adherents in the first festive joy of their faith, He must have performed a succession of miracles. For when, after a longer stay in Judea, He first of all visited Nazareth, the people there were disposed to blame Him for bestowing His blessings on Capernaum in preference to His own town, and therefore more eagerly expected from Him miraculous performances (Luke 4:23). Those miracles have not been reported in detail. The chief narrators of the synoptical accounts were not yet among the followers of Jesus, and the few disciples whom He had already gained were probably very much taken up with household matters in the short interval between the two great journeys. This was probably the cause that no more distinct testimonies have been given of these events. The most memorable act of Jesus in Jerusalem at this time was the purifying of the temple. John relates it at once, in order to indicate that by this act the Lord had entered on His public ministry in the very centre of the theocracy. He found in the temple-that is, in the precincts of the sanctuary, in the court of the Gentiles1-the dealers in oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers sitting at their tables. These malpractices had gradually arisen from the wants, usages, and notions of the Jewish nation. Those persons who attended the festivals, or generally the Israelites who offered sacrifices, required animals for that purpose; and thus a cattle market was held. Besides this, according to Exodus 30:13, the Jews paid a temple-tax, and in the temple coinage, a half-shekel according to the shekel of the sanctuary; hence the money-changers were needed.2 Probably this temple-market was originally in the neighbourhood of the outer court, and gradually brought within it. But how can the circumstance be explained, that the strict pharisaical Jews in the time of Jesus could allow such a desecration of the temple to creep in? This circumstance may be explained from the spirit of Pharisaism; and we must first enter into its meaning, in order fully to understand the indignation of Jesus. In the same degree in which Pharisaism looked with increasing contempt on the Gentiles, it valued the sacrificial animals, since they had a relation to the temple, more highly, and at last esteemed them as the nobler of the two; for, according to the later Jewish theology, an Israelite might be defiled by intercourse with Gentiles (see Acts 10:12, &c.) They stood, in this respect, on a level with unclean beasts, while the sacrificial beasts served for purification. It was, therefore, quite in accordance with the spirit of Pharisaism when these animals were allowed to expel the Gentiles from their court. But, on the other hand, it was quite in accordance with the spirit of Christ when His zeal was roused against such a disorderly proceeding. He combated the false temple-service in the temple itself, because it desecrated the temple and marred its most peculiar design. His mode of proceeding is remarkable. He makes ‘a scourge of small cords.’ This scourge He wields, not against the men, but against the oxen and sheep, and against these animals naturally, not merely symbolically.1 It is a mark of His superiority that He drives the cattle out directly, as if they had run of their own accord into the temple.2 In the same way He overturns the tables of the money-changers quite simply, since He proceeds in a straightforward manner, and takes for granted that no tables ought to stand there, and thus scatters about the money of the exchangers. But he did not like to overturn the dove-cages, because they contained living creatures; nor could He scare the doves away, because they sat in the cages;3 so He commanded their owners, ‘Take these things hence,’ and then gives the cause of His zeal both in reference to them and the rest: ‘Make not My Father’s house an house of merchandize.’ When Jesus had accomplished this act of zeal, His disciples remembered that it was written, The zeal of Thine house hath eaten me up.4 The Jews5 could not deny the theocratic fitness of Christ’s act; they must have allowed it to be a purification of the temple. But they desired to know what authority He had for performing it. Certainly, every Jew might come forward as a zealot against illegal abuses in the national life.6 But the greatest zealots generally justified their proceedings as prophets and workers of miracles.7 And in the present case the Jews believed that they were bound to make peculiarly strong demands, since the Lord by His act had rebuked the whole nation, and the Sanhedrim itself. They demanded, therefore, a sign to legitimate His proceeding. Jesus replied to them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again.’ The Jews understood His words of their visible temple, as their answer proves: ‘Forty and six years was this temple in building, and wilt Thou rear it up in three days?’1 John repudiates this interpretation with the explanation, ‘Jesus spake of the temple of His body.’ This explanation was not immediately disclosed to the disciples, but first became clear to them at the resurrection of Jesus; and this fulfilment of so remarkable a prophecy contributed to strengthen their faith. In modern times, it has been thought needful to correct the exegesis of John, or of the disciples generally, in the explanation of this passage, by remarking that the destruction of the temple must mark the destruction of the theocracy which the Jews merited, but its rebuilding, the higher restoration of the theocracy by the work of Christ; and it is supposed that the three days may be regarded as the concrete designation of a short time.2 It ought, at the same time, to have been perceived that the Old Testament theocracy could be really destroyed, and was destroyed, only by the rejection and crucifixion of Christ, and that His resurrection founded the real restoration of a new and higher theocratic order, a higher temple.3 The exposition of the Evangelist is distinguished from the aforesaid modern one in this, that he seizes the fact in question, of the destruction and rebuilding of the true theocracy, clearly on its innermost substance, in its special life-principle; while the same fact floats so dimly in its outward extent before the modern exposition, that it never succeeds in estimating the substance of the fact in its real significance, and in comprehending it in its unity with this outward extension. The saying of the Lord was certainly not easy to be understood by the Jews; with their judaizing disposition, they persisted in supposing that He meant the material temple on Mount Zion. From this carnal conception there was only a single step to the slanderous misrepresentation which we find again in the mouth of the false witnesses at the judicial examination of Christ. But for Christ the temple had from the first its spiritual existence in the theocracy; and that He referred to this, the better disposed must have surmised. But the best disposed also found in the fulfilment of this surmise that His personal life was the quintessence of this theocracy, and therefore His body was properly the temple. The three first Evangelists narrate another perfectly similar purification of the temple, which the Lord performed on the last Passover He attended. In the present day, it is generally assumed that this event could not have happened twice. But for this assumption there is no sufficient reason. Rather there is great probability in favour of the opposite supposition, which adheres to the account in the Gospels. It is difficult to suppose that Jesus would allow so crying an abuse to exist without animadversion up to the time of His last visit. He combated it at once. But let it be supposed that He combated it with permanent success, and we must admit such a single great result of His agency in the Israelitish cultus as could not easily fall to His lot according to the whole remaining bearing of the Jewish theocracy towards Him.1 If, then, the old irregular practice soon revived, the question would be, whether Christ could have endured the repeated observation of a public scandal, peradventure for the reason that His first denunciation of it had been of so little avail. It is, we allow, possible that the one remembrance of the disciples might have added to the one act of Jesus some traits taken from other similar acts.2 Yet the difference of the two accounts is not to be mistaken. The act in both cases is the same; only that, on the second purification, Jesus, according to Mark (Mark 11:16), would not allow the vessels to be carried through the temple. But the saying with which He accompanied His act in the two cases is wholly different. The tone of the saying in John is quite mild: ‘Make not My Father’s house a house of merchandize.’ The second saying in the synoptic Gospels is marked by great severity. ‘It is written, My house shall be called a house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.’ This sentence is a vigorous blending of two prophetic passages, Isaiah 56:7 and Jeremiah 7:11. ‘Is this house, which is called by My name, become a den of robbers in your eyes?’ the Lord asks His people by Jeremiah, for this reason, that the people came to His house in an ungodly state of mind, many of them murderers and adulterers. Jesus availed Himself of this language in its freest application. On the other hand, in Isaiah 56:1-12 the announcement is made, that the Gentiles should be fellow-worshippers with Israel in the temple; and in this sense it is said, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.’ This was the design of the court of the Gentiles, to represent the living germ of Universalism in the Old Testament religion and Church quite palpably and visibly in the arrangements of the material temple. Hence Mark reports the words of Jesus most correctly in their full extent: ‘My house shall be called of all nations a house of prayer.’ And it was quite in keeping with the whole character of the transaction, that Jesus should bring home to the pharisaic spirit, at the second and more unsparing purification of the temple, the ultimate ground of His conduct. He now declared, without reserve, that He meant to advocate the right of the nations, of the Gentiles, to the temple, against the pharisaic spirit, which would have dislodged the Gentiles from their lawful position by the pressure of their sacrificial traffic. The consequences of the two acts were also essentially different. At the first purification, the Jewish party left it still undecided whether the proceeding was right or not; Jesus only justified His zeal by a sign of prophetic spiritual power and authority. At the second purification, matters took quite a different turn. The space which had been left free by the expulsion of the cattle was occupied by the blind and the lame whom Jesus healed, and by pious children who chanted their hosannas in His praise; while, on the other hand, the chief priests and scribes retired with renewed animosity to conspire against His life. Thus the first great public act of Jesus was one of the most beautiful zeal, of reverence, and love; it was an act of inspired wrath, in which He contended for the divine honour and the spirit of devotion against the profane disposition that desecrated the sanctuary, and by which, at the same time, he asserted the rights of humanity against the spiritual arrogance which treated with contempt the claims of the Gentiles, who, though still at a distance, were called to salvation. He came as the Lord to His temple, according to the prophecy of Malachi (Malachi 3:1); the outward, special purification of the temple was an emblem of the great universal temple-purification which He accomplished by His whole work of redemption. This act was miraculous in its religious, moral, and psychical operation; only the physical element, which completes a miracle in the stricter sense, was wanting. It was a miracle, as an act of extraordinary spiritual illumination and power, as an act of religious and moral majesty which operated on the people with irresistible power,1 alarmed the traffickers, paralyzed adversaries, agitated the popular mind, and elevated the souls of the pious, though it filled them with anxious forebodings. Such a foreboding seized the souls of the disciples of Jesus, and brought to their recollection that solemn expression in the Psalms which represented zeal for God’s house as a consuming fire terminating in death. John does not relate the other miracles which Jesus performed in Jerusalem at the Passover. But he alludes to them when he says, ‘Many believed in His name, when they saw the signs (σημεῖα) which He did’ (John 2:22). But Jesus was too deeply conversant with the essential quality of human nature in its sinfulness and weakness, to be able to trust Himself to those men, who in the first fervour of their emotions had declared themselves for Him. He knew them all, that is, He knew the Adamic type of man fundamentally, so that He needed not that any one should give Him information respecting the peculiar character of the generation among whom He lived. This collective body stood before Him as one man; and what was in man He already knew, He was aware of it, He saw through him. And owing to the inconstancy of the Adamic man in his noblest flights and aspirations, it was evident to Him that He could not immediately reveal and trust Himself to His admirers without being unfaithful to Himself and His cause. For the sake of their salvation, He was obliged meanwhile to conceal Himself in many ways, and to impart and trust Himself to them under the laws of the holiest reserve. This important feature in the plan of Jesus appears in John as well as in the three first Evangelists. notes 1. If, in accordance with the Gospel tradition, we admit the repetition of the purification of the temple, it will be easily understood that the second must be by far the most important for the synoptists, since it was witnessed by all the disciples, and therefore occupied a conspicuous place in the Gospel tradition. But then John found that the first only required yet to be reported, and he reported it in preference to the other, since according to the whole composition of his Gospel the admission of the second was more out of his way. 2. Against the reference of Christ’s words, ‘Destroy this temple,’ &c., to His death and resurrection, several remarks have been made, which may all be settled by one answer. It has been forgotten that the terms employed first of all ought to sound as if Jesus meant only to say, ‘Demolish this material temple, and in three days I will rebuild it,’ since He wished to intimate something deeper under the covering of this paradoxical expression. Hence (1) He must say λύσατε, though this was not a proper expression for the crucifixion of His body; hence (2) He says τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον with a reference to the temple, though He had in His mind the theocracy, and His own body as the organ of the theocracy; hence (3) He says ἐγερῶ, though in a strict sense He did not raise Himself, but was raised by the Father (yet so, that His resurrection was at the same time an act of His own life, according to John 10:18). Also, the remarks, that the Jews had as yet done nothing which indicated the design of putting Jesus to death, and that they could not have understood such an intimation as that given by Jesus, may be obviated by the rejoinder, that here the most distinct relation exists between the outer and the inner, the general and individual relations of the theocracy;-first of all between the temple, the body of Christ, and the theocracy;-then between the desecration of the temple, the crucifixion of Christ, and the destruction of the ancient theocracy;-lastly and thirdly, between the purification of the temple, the resurrection of Christ, and the establishment of the New Covenant. To this we must add, in conclusion, the relations of time. The Lord required only a few moments to cleanse the temple-He required three days for the resurrection-He required a short time in order to exhibit the new temple in His pentecostal Church. Therefore Bruno Bauer’s requirement (Kritik der evang. Geschichte des Joh., p. 82) is satisfied; the second, deeper meaning of Christ’s words lies really in the direction of the first meaning. That three days may signify a short space of time, Hosea 6:2 has been adduced to prove; and it has been justly remarked, that the expression generally has something proverbial, since Jesus did not remain three days in the grave in a strict sense, but rose again on the third day. 3. ‘This multitude of persons, who might be certain of the protection of the priesthood, would not let themselves be ejected from the temple by a single man, without any ado.’ This dictum belongs to the well-known standing canon of a critical foregone conclusion, which always treats as improbable the manifestations and operations of spiritual majesty. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 88: 02.091. SECTION VI ======================================================================== Section VI the conversation by night with nicodemus (John 3:1-21) Among the many men in Jerusalem who received the first impulses to faith through the miracles of Jesus, were already some persons of distinction, Pharisees, and even members of the Sanhedrim. Nicodemus is a representative of these friends of Jesus, and his visit by night to the Lord is a proof how much reason Jesus had not altogether to trust Himself to believers at this stage. As the noblest mystics proceeded from the monks of the Catholic Church, from the Dominicans especially, and the great Reformer Luther from the Augustinians, so two great witnesses of the most living Christian faith, Paul and Nicodemus, were supplied to the kingdom of God by the Pharisees, a party noted for their sanctimoniousness and bondage to the letter. In the person of Nicodemus, Christ at the very outset of His ministry conquered not only a Pharisee, but a ruler of the Jews, a member of the Sanhedrim. It has been a very common hypothesis in schools of theology, but without any foundation, to regard him as a spy, who at first came to Jesus with a sinister design. The sincerity of his inclination towards Jesus is, from the first, decided; a genuine germ of faith already begins to combat his own pretensions and prejudices; otherwise he, an old man, could not resort to a young man, and, though a distinguished member of the council, ask questions of the Galilean Rabbi as a scholar, thus putting his whole reputation in peril. We also see how this germ gradually increased in power, till perfected in the ripe fruit of faith, after passing in its development through distinct stages. But that the germ in its first form was feeble, Nicodemus plainly indicates, not only by his coming to Jesus by night, to which, no doubt, considerations of fear determined him, but also by the tenor of his language. In general, it has been assumed that John has not fully reported the conversation of Christ with Nicodemus. But if we grant this, it cannot be admitted that he has given only a fragmentary abstract, so that we cannot fully depend on the connection of the separate parts. The abstract must preserve the connection equally as well as the discourse in its full extent. Nicodemus salutes the Lord in terms of reverence which seem to include, and which in a certain sense do include, a perfect recognition of His divine mission and prophetic dignity. ‘Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come from God; for no man can do these miracles that Thou dost, except God be with him.’ This salutation appears altogether so suited to form a point of connection for the teaching of Christ, that it has often excited astonishment that Christ’s answer so entirely passes it over, or rather appears to treat it as quite unsatisfactory. With powerful pathos the Lord replies to this courteous and honest salutation by the momentous declaration, which has become the fundamental maxim of His Church, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born from above,1 he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ Between the salutation of the guest and this counter-salutation of the Lord there is evidently a chasm;-but the chasm is obviously an original one, it is an element of the transaction. This absolute contrariety is indeed the most important feature of our history, positively designed by Jesus, and of decided efficiency. Nicodemus met Him with a homage in which the consciousness of his high position was not concealed, so that it almost assumed a patronizing character. ‘Rabbi, we know what we have to think of Thee,’ he said, as if he wished to assure Him of the favour of a powerful party. But, along with this patronizing language, which lay in the indefinite plural ‘we know,’ the acknowledgment seemed to be uttered in a lower key, ‘Thou art a teacher come from God.’ But this conviction Nicodemus grounded altogether on an inference from the Old Testament orthodoxy-Thy great miracles are the proof of Thy higher mission. And how feeble the conviction was that was so grounded, but which Nicodemus seemed to regard as a great acknowledgment, is proved by the choice of night for his visit. There was an unconscious contradiction between the pathos of his recognition and the expressions of reflection and fear which alternated with it. The great Master of the human heart saw at once that He could not win this aged man, who by honours and dignities, by the views and habit of his outward and inward religious life, was firmly rooted in the soil of legal worldliness, by the tedious method of theological controversy; but that he must be won by the shattering stroke of His first rejoinder-that He must loosen him by a wrench in his position, though not pull him from it compulsorily. Nicodemus presented himself to Him, as if he were a trustworthy member of the kingdom of heaven. He wished already to know who Christ was, and the design of His mission. His theology of the new age was, as he imagined, complete in the main outlines, and with it the commencement of the new age itself. And thus he was willing to guarantee for many that they were already adherents of Jesus. This disclosure of his views made the Lord feel the deep contrast between the old world-view of Nicodemus and the fundamental principles of His own new world, and He suddenly placed this contrast before the mind of the theologian. With a solemn asseveration, He gave him the assurance that the new world He announced, the Messianic kingdom, was a completely hidden mystery for all who were not thoroughly transformed, new-born again from above; that no one was in a condition even to see this kingdom, to say nothing of entering it, unless such a new birth had given him new eyes for this new world. The Lord knew that He must risk and could risk the future of Nicodemus on the agitating operation of this announcement. The answer of Nicodemus proved that the words of Jesus had, in fact, moved him in his inmost soul. Nicodemus knew indeed the language of the prophets respecting circumcision and the renewal of the heart;1 he might also be familiar with the circumcision of the Jewish proselytes as new-born children.2 This, therefore, was certainly clear to him, that Jesus, by His requirement, could not literally mean a second bodily birth. But it was also evident from the words of Jesus, that He did not recognize the being a Jew or the passing over to Judaism as a new birth; nor even the pharisaic righteousness by which Nicodemus assuredly believed he had gained the renewal of the heart, like thousands on his legal stand-point. And since Nicodemus could not at once sacrifice his distinguished position in life and his honoured old age to the assurance that they contributed nothing to his understanding the kingdom of God, that he needed a new birth, therefore he could not or would not admit that Christ’s words could have for him an allowable spiritual meaning. He therefore wilfully took them in a literal sense, not from contractedness of mind,3 but from irritated sensibility. In order, by a manœuvre of rabbinical logomachy, to hold up Christ’s requirement as extravagant, he answered, ‘How can a man be born when he is old? can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?’ Christ would not allow Himself to be moved from the composure of His sacerdotal dignity. He repeated the solemn asseveration, and set a second time the might of His heart against the rabbinical dialectics of the aged man. But He at once wrests from him the objection he had made, by the distinct requirement, ‘Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.’ It is evident that Jesus here opposes as the second birth, the birth of the Spirit, to the first natural birth of the human mother. When in this sense He joins water with Spirit, we are led to think of the connection, so frequent in the Gospel, of water-baptism and Spirit-baptism. John met the Pharisees with the condition, ‘If ye would enter the kingdom of heaven, after submitting to my water-baptism, ye must also receive the Spirit-baptism of the Messiah.’ Christ again insists on this condition; with the necessity of His Spirit-baptism He also asserts that of John, or at least of the water-baptism introduced by John. But this requirement has been thought strange in the mouth of Jesus, since it has been supposed that His Spirit-baptism would be sufficient. In order to remove this impression, water-baptism must be regarded as the symbol of repentance, while Spirit-baptism represents the life of faith.1 But the water signifies not only individual, but also social repentance,-the entrance into the true theocratic society. And this society was constituted by Christ to be the historical foundation and main condition of the operations of His Spirit. Thus, as the first natural world was formed under the movement of the Spirit which hovered over the waters, so also must the second world, that of the new life, emerge from the water of baptism to repentance, which forms the new sacred community, and from the administration of the Spirit in this Church. No one is born again simply of the Spirit, for the Spirit presupposes in His operation the historical community which has been collected round the name of Christ, acknowledges His word, and is distinguished from the impure world by its public common repentance or purification. A man must first become a historical Christian before he can become a spiritual Christian. With his entrance into the new society by baptism, he dies to the old world and renounces its worldly mind, devotes his old life to death, and enters into the historical conditions which must confirm the new life in him. Thus he is born of water. But this birth is not a special birth per se; it is not completed till he becomes a new man in his whole inward being and life-principle, through the Holy Spirit, who is the life-element of the new community; he becomes a child of God because the life of Christ becomes his own, a free fountain of life in his breast. But the reason why this renewal must be a total, and therefore a new birth, Christ explains by the canon, ‘That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.’ Kind never ceases to be kind. (Art lässt nicht von Art.) From the stock of the old humanity, whose life has the predominant characteristic of carnality, the preponderance of sensuousness and of carnal desires above the free life of the Spirit, in which all the affections of the senses should rise up pure, only carnally-disposed men can proceed-only such in whom the dark nature-side of life predominates in a destructive manner, morbidly, and contrary to their destiny, over the luminous Spirit-side. Therefore, if the adamically constituted man is to be truly a new creature, he must become new in his kind of life, and be born of the Spirit. Since Christ represents this new birth as indispensable, in doing so He marks the relation in which the man who is not yet filled with the life of Christ stands to the kingdom of God. He attains it not by his theological science, nor by his logical deductions; he has it not in his religious energy. It is a new creation from heaven, which must bury his old life in its consecrated stream in order to give him a new life-a mystery of life, in which he must become a subject of the formative power of divine grace, like an unborn child. The more he anticipates this creative power, yearns for it, and humbly receives it into his life, so much nearer is he to the kingdom of God. After the requirement has been positively laid down, the Lord proceeds to explain the possibility of its fulfilment by an analogy. Wind is akin to spirit-a natural symbol of its existence and action. And perhaps at that very time, while they were thus conversing together, the night-wind might be making itself perceptible by its murmurs. At all events, the Lord took His comparison most appropriately from the nearest, freshest life. ‘Marvel not,’ He therefore said to him, ‘that I said unto thee, Ye must be born from above. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth!’ Here, then, is a powerful, actual life, which goes beyond your knowledge. Thou canst not deny the existence of the wind, nor its irresistible action, nor its omnipresent movement round the globe. For it rushes sometimes here, sometimes there; it makes itself known to thee by its loud tone, its voice. And yet it is to thee a twofold mystery,-first in its origin, then in its movements. ‘So is it,’ said the Lord, ‘with every one who is born of the Spirit.’ He might have said, ‘So is it with the Spirit;’ but since he who is born of the Spirit is one with the life of the Spirit, the expression actually chosen is equally correct, while at the same time it is more full of meaning.1 The life of the Spirit comes out from a depth, and length, and height which human intelligence cannot fathom; and thus, even in the man whom it apprehends, it appears as a holy divine mystery! The same life of the Spirit goes to an immeasurable distance over land and sea; and so is the child of the Spirit with his destiny. His way goes upwards (Proverbs 15:24). But however full of mystery is the life of the Spirit and the spiritual life, it makes itself known in the most powerful facts, and its attributes are-Freedom; manifestation of power in all degrees, even to irresistible might; infinite fulness; and vivifying operation. The wind everywhere is begotten from a life full of mystery, as if from itself; so is the Spirit, it is free. The Holy Spirit also begins its operations with the gentlest whisper; but this can become the mightiest tempest. But in its fulness it is as immeasurable as the atmosphere, for it is the life of God moving itself. And as the wind is an indispensable principle of life in the material world, so is the Spirit in the spiritual world. The moving winds form the vital element of the globe; the moving currents of the Spirit are the vital element of the kingdom of God. But as the wind places itself in opposition to the water, in order to form a world, and as without the antagonism of a solid world it would only be an enormous hurricane; so the Spirit manifests itself in living reciprocal action with man’s definite life, and with the divine word as the life of history; and those persons who turn history into unsubstantial shadows, make the Spirit to be No-spirit (Ungeist). Nicodemus indeed had at first doubted the necessity of his new birth; but now he had received an obscure impression that so it must be. Christ’s first address had impressed upon him the difference between the legal righteousness of one outwardly circumcised and the new life of one born again from heaven, and his own capability for the kingdom of heaven. The delineation of that glorious spiritual life brings gradually to his consciousness his own painful deficiency, which moves him as an obscure aspiration has distinguished him from the common Pharisees, and driven him to Jesus. But he trembles at the thought, whether it be possible that such a spring-storm of an awakening spiritual life could pass through his aged breast, and exclaims, ‘How can these things be?’ Then Christ answers him, ‘Art thou a teacher of Israel, and knowest not these things?’ He was not only a teacher in Israel, but the teacher of Israel, since he now wished to instruct Israel respecting the divine mission of Christ, and placed himself at the head of those who were cognizant of the Messiah.1 He wished to know the fundamental relations of the kingdom of God; and now it became evident that he did not even know the doctrine of regeneration, and therefore not thoroughly the spiritual meaning of circumcision. Now Christ confronts the bewilderment of Nicodemus with His own divine certainty; the right relation between Himself and Nicodemus is firmly settled. The solemn asseveration, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto thee,’ is repeated a third time, and then follows the declaration, ‘We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen, and ye receive not our witness.’ The plural of Christ is opposed to the plural of Nicodemus; He also has those who share in His knowledge. Perhaps He had in His thoughts not merely John the Baptist, but rather His disciples and the whole world of future believers.1 Nicodemus stands answerable for a visible party, which subsequently was for the most part dissolved; Christ for an invisible party, which is ever coming more powerfully into life. And with Him and those who belong to Him it is not a matter merely of intellectual knowledge, but of spiritual intuition, of experience; therefore they are not merely speakers concerning eternal things, but witnesses out of eternity. This certainty with which we meet you, and which you must feel in our testimony, will you deny it? Thus Christ introduces the disclosures which He wishes to make to him respecting the kingdom of God. He continues His gentle censure with an expression which probably means, If I have told you truths already naturalized on earth (in the Israelitish community), and ye believe Me not, how will ye believe if I tell you the new revelations of heaven?2 The doctrine of regeneration is a truth which, as we have seen, was brought forward with sufficient distinctness in the Old Testament to be regarded as one already naturalized in this world; it is, besides, a mystery that concerns the earth, for regeneration has to do with earthly-minded men, with earthly humanity and earth. And this a heathen ought painfully to surmise-not to say that a teacher in Israel ought to know, at least believe when it is announced to him. But if he will not believe when it is announced most solemnly by an acknowledged Prophet, how can he receive those heavenly mysteries embracing earth, but not yet naturalized on earth, which become first intelligible in the light of regeneration, since they are the causes and effects of regeneration? How can he become acquainted with the concealed side of the spiritual life, the ultimate whence and whither of the spiritual wind, when he will not understand the manifest side of the same life, the sound of that wind? This reproof of Christ excites the curiosity of His aged scholar for the announcement which He has yet to make to him. To these heavenly doctrines belongs, first of all, the doctrine of the Son of God; next, that of atonement; then that of redemption; and, lastly, that of the judgment. ‘No one hath ascended up to heaven but He that (continually) cometh down from heaven, the Son of man, who is at home in heaven (as His native place).’ These mysterious words express the divine glory of Christ as it is exhibited in His threefold relation to heaven. But these relations are spoken of because He wishes to announce to Nicodemus those heavenly things which no one else can announce to him. And the reason why no one else can announce them is, because Jesus alone has attained the heavenly stand-point and range of vision, the elevation required for looking into all the depths of the divine counsels. But He has attained it, because in heavenly love and condescension He continually descends from the heaven of His divine blessedness and glory, into all the depths of human misery, and even goes down into hell. By His descending in love He has His heavenly elevation in knowledge. And thus His Spirit floats upwards and downwards between heaven and earth, since according to His heavenly nature and His consciousness He is continually in heaven, and since in the identity of His consciousness of God and of the world He has the eternal consciousness of heaven.1 The first clause, therefore, marks His heavenly intuition and knowledge; the second, His heavenly loving, suffering, and doing; the third, His heavenly being and inner life. His heavenly being is an eternal present;2 His heavenly loving, suffering, and doing, is a constant constructing and administrating3 throughout His whole history; His heavenly intuition is a decided acquisition, resulting from that life and administration.4 This was the first profound heavenly truth of the New Covenant which Nicodemus needed to learn: that the fulness of divine revelation and knowledge is laid up in Jesus; that it proceeds from His divine existence, and His heavenly self-sacrifice and work; and that He is the Christ. The second great truth had been already announced by the declaration that Christ descended from heaven. It is the doctrine of His atoning sufferings. ‘And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.’ Under this image He represents the atonement, since it strikingly marks the nature of the atonement, in the mysterious lifting up (ὑψωθῆναι) represents the descending and ascending of the heavenly Lord in their unity.1 Moses, by Jehovah’s command, erected a sign of deliverance for the Israelites who had been bitten in their march through the wilderness by poisonous serpents.2 It is remarkable that the sign of deliverance was the serpent itself; the brazen image of a serpent, hung upon a pole. The looking at this serpent, which was no real serpent, but one without life, and yet lifted up on high, saved the terror-struck people.3 Thus the human race are to be saved. It has been troubled by poisonous serpents, harassed to death by seducers, slanderers, corrupters. But it must be saved by beholding the elevated image of that spiritual serpent, by the operation of the great transgressor nailed to the tree, the Crucified, whom the world has cast out as the curse, or even as the evil demon himself. That serpent-image was no serpent, but the reverse of all serpents, the banner of sanctification. So is this image of a transgressor no transgressor, not the demon of the curse, but living salvation against all the destructive and satanic existences on earth-the Saviour. With the believing contemplation of the brazen serpent, the terror-struck lost all their fatal alarm, became death-defying and calm in spirit. By the contemplation of the Crucified, men are freed from the fatal dread of death, and are ready to surrender themselves to the judgment of God. But with the surrender to judgment, faith in the atonement is gained. There, the serpent-image was to express the fact, that God, by the faith of Moses, destroyed the rage of the serpent’s brood; here, the image of the Crucified expresses the truth, that God in His death has cancelled the sins of the world. And as there God’s help had descended so low as to operate under the form of a poisonous reptile, so here everlasting salvation had condescended to reconcile the world under the most accursed form, that of the Crucified. And this is indeed the central point of the type. The Israelite bitten by the serpent obtained, by the contemplation of the sanative serpent-image, a presage of the deliverance which the glory of God provided from the deadly evil, and thereby gained a miraculous vital energy; the man bitten by the serpent of sin and of satanic evil, obtained, by the contemplation of the redeeming holy image of the transgressor, the confidence that God condemns sin through sin, and in its condemnation establishes deliverance and reconciliation. So rich are the relations between the brazen serpent and the crucified Saviour. Nicodemus was, indeed, by no means in a condition to understand clearly the language of Christ; but this language might convey to him a strong intimation, that Christ could only bring the salvation to the people which he expected from Him under a form of dreadful suffering. Thus he received in an obscure form, but more exciting to his reflection, the second revelation of heaven. We learn in the next place how the atonement is exhibited in its more general form as redemption. ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.’ Thus the whole work of atonement appears in the light of redeeming love;-God as the most Merciful One in His love; Christ as the given and self-surrendering Redeemer; the world as the object of love to be purchased at the highest price; the believer as one who is redeemed for the blessedness of love, and who in believing gains the principle of an imperishable, blessed life. By means of this third revelation of heavenly things, Nicodemus would learn the extent of redemption; how it proceeds from a love of God embracing the whole world; that it embraces all men, and not merely the Jews, as the pharisaic spirit might imagine. But as redemption does not reject believing Gentiles, so judgment does not spare unbelieving Jews. Judgment makes no difference between Jews and Gentiles, but between believers and unbelievers. This is the last great heavenly truth which he has to learn. Christ therefore came into the world, not to condemn the world, at least not in the sense in which the Jews expected Him to be a rigorous judge of the Gentile world. Rather the world is to be saved by Him; and whosoever truly believes in Him is not condemned. He has in Christ received the life of righteousness, and incorporated it in his inmost soul; therefore sin is ever more condemned in him and expelled, while he himself is purified and redeemed in his own being. But a man can refuse to believe in Christ; and if he does so, judgment has already been passed upon him in his unbelief. In its principle, the unfolding of his condemnation has already begun, since he has excluded himself from the kingdom of light, love, and reconciliation. He has not believed;-that means, in the solemn perfect form: he has chosen, he has made up his mind. But he has not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God, that is, not in the highest perfect revelation of God to the human race,-not in the highest act of love,-not in the light principle of the ideality and glorification of the whole world, and of the ideality of his own being, nor in the expression of the eternal personality of God and of humanity, in that personality which makes heaven and earth one. Therefore this faith, as well as this unbelief, is throughout of an ethical nature, determining the worth of a man in God’s sight. Faith in Christ has the worth of righteousness in judgment, because it consists in the surrender to righteousness which verifies itself in judgment. Unbelief towards Christ, on the other hand, is the judgment of man respecting himself, that he cannot lay hold of and accept the heavenly moral system in its clearest expression and principle in the life of Christ. By it a man rejects his citizenship in the ideal world of Christ, and adjudges himself to an entirely opposite system full of condemnation. Hence unbelief has the demerit of all the bad qualities which it contains dynamically in itself and can originate. But how can this fearful decision be formed in a man? It is at all events the result of a persistence in evil-doing. Thus there arises ‘the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.’ Condemnation therefore proceeds from aversion to the light, and this is perfectly identical with aversion to Christ. It is an aversion to the ideal clearness of the intuition of the world (Weltanschauung), to the apprehension of life in its pure eternal relations. Now light is this ideality of the world, and Christ is the light, because in Him the world discloses itself as the kingdom of spirit. This aversion could not be formed in man if he did not really hold fast the darkness, the confusion of the world in his consciousness and of consciousness in the world,-if he did not seek in religious and moral self-bewilderment a protection for his evil works, his outward deeds, and the deeds of his heart. This therefore is the condemnation: it is already there: its commencement has been made. But all men do not prefer the darkness to the light. Respecting this contrast, the Lord finally lays down a general canon: ‘Every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God.’ He who does evil is bewildered himself and bewilders others, and therefore cannot love the principle which would extricate him, that is, the light. So when the clearness of the light meets him, his life appears in its criminality as a perversion of life. Thus the light punishes him; therefore he hates the light, and chooses darkness. But it is altogether different with the man who does the truth as it manifests itself to his inmost soul. He follows the impulse of eternal clearness, and therefore cannot help coming to the light. His works are children of the light; they must enter into their element, into the light. Good is itself a part of eternal revelation: it is done in God; therefore it cannot remain hid, it must become manifest. This close is thoroughly suited to form the last words with which Jesus dismissed Nicodemus. If we imagine that the Lord went with Nicodemus to the door when he left, and uttered these last words to him under the darkness of the evening sky, we shall probably feel what a striking, powerful, and admonitory farewell they contain. Nicodemus by his nocturnal visit had apparently ranked himself with those who, with an evil conscience, seek the darkness for their evil deeds. For this the Lord rebuked him; but He also blessed the thirst of his upright soul for light, and therefore dismissed him with words of most distinct hope and promise, as if He had said to him, ‘Thou art nevertheless a child of the light, and wilt surely be led into the light by the impulse of thy uprightness. Yes, thy present act of feeble faith, which the night conceals, shall become manifest in the light, because it is wrought in God, when thou thyself shalt one day come to the light, both in the clear day of the Spirit, of revelation, and in the clear day of the world, of publicity. We shall meet again in the light!’ When at a later period Christ hung on the cross, Nicodemus with his faith and work of faith came decidedly to the light. Christ’s promise then obtained its complete fulfilment. But here Nicodemus, on his leaving, took it with him as a fruitful seed-corn in his heart. notes 1. ‘The whole scene with Nicodemus is treated by Strauss as a fiction which owed its origin to the reproach that the success of the Gospel was confined to the lower classes, which left a sting behind in the souls of the first Christians. But Neander has shown, with historical as well as Christian penetration, that the Christians of that first age rather gloried in the fact that the common people were exalted to such dignity by Christ.’ Thus Tholuck, p. 124. The explanation of Strauss (i. 661) belongs to his peculiar view of the poverty-stricken character of man, and especially of the Christian, and proceeds on the assumption that the poor primitive Church, which was unable to win any proselytes from the higher classes, created imaginary proselytes, though certainly on a less noble principle than that which instigated the poor schoolmaster, in Jean Paul, to write a Klopstock’s Messiah because he was too poor to buy one. The only place where one really misses the mention of Nicodemus is Matthew 27:57. Why, it is asked, is not Nicodemus mentioned here as the helper of Joseph of Arimathea? But it is at once evident that the reason of this special mention of Joseph alone is, that it was he who begged the body of Jesus from Pilate, and he who had made ready the tomb for its reception. 2. According to Baur, in his Essay on the Composition and Character of John’s Gospel, Nicodemus is to be regarded as the representative of unbelieving Judaism even in his faith, and on the other hand, the woman of Samaria as the representative of such Gentiles as were susceptible of faith. A person must read this statement of Baur’s, to be convinced how far the passion for making an allegorical scheme out of the living reality of the Gospel history can lead to the most unfortunate distortions of that history. Not to say that we are here offered nothing but the moonshine of spiritualistic fictions for the sunshine of the highest ideal reality, the allegorist never once reaches the pure realization of the living poetical contents of these evangelic representations, but covers them all over with his stiff rationalist constructions, with much the same effect as covering a beautiful painting with large dull patches of one colour. We do not meet with even the ordinary freshness of colouring of the simplest kind on the tablet of Nicodemus, but only a dirty grey. ‘Faith on account of σημεῖα, such as is ascribed to Nicodemus, it is said, is related to true faith as the outward to the inward, or the carnal to the spiritual; and hence it is nothing but a further description of the faith that relies on σημεῖα, when Nicodemus, however fairly we may estimate his want of understanding, appears as a teacher in Israel, to whom, in his incapacity of rising above sensuous experience to spiritual conceptions, all susceptibility for true faith in Jesus was wanting.’ Here at last the author of the fourth Gospel must be allowed to justify himself. He unquestionably places Nicodemus among the friends of light; our critic places him on the side of darkness. On the other hand, the poor Samaritan woman is to represent the whole Gentile world though she refers to ‘our father Jacob;’ and moreover is to exemplify the susceptibility for faith which asks not after signs, though her faith originates entirely from the wonderful insight of the Lord into her life. 3. The section from John 3:16-21 has been considered, after the example of Erasmus, by most theologians in modern times as a carrying out of the conversation of Jesus with Nicodemus, which we are to ascribe to the Evangelist himself (compare Lcke, i. 543; Tholuck, p. 123; Adalb. Maier, p. 302). In the first place, it favours this view, that the conversational style is entirely dropped from ver. 16. Moreover the expression μονογενής occurs only in discourse that is strictly John’s own-for example, John 1:14, John 1:18,-not in the discourses of Jesus. Besides, many expressions betray the later consciousness of the writer which look back to the completed history of Jesus; such as the past tenses, and among these, especially ἠγάπησαν and ἦν, John 1:19. But the first reason alleged would lead to the supposition that the conversation communicated by John must be artistically carried out, but could not merge into an explicatory discourse of the Lord. But this assumption would be arbitrary and false, since it is rather in accordance with the character of Christ’s ministry for vivid developments of His teaching to arise out of conversations immediately preceding. As to the expression μονογενής, and the Evangelist’s colouring of the representation, there is no reason for denying that this expression might have been formed by the apostle in reporting his recollections. Yet neither is it inconceivable that John might have taken this expression as originally used by Christ on this occasion, and incorporated it with his theology. The passage in John 3:19, apparently, may be referred most decidedly to a later stand-point. According to the common conception of the evangelic history, it seems as if at the time of this conversation no such decision, involving condemnation, as Christ here characterizes it, had taken place. But if we contemplate the history of the temptation according to our view of it, and likewise take into account the unfavourable attitude which a part of the Sanhedrim must have already taken openly in reference to Jesus-since only such an attitude can explain the visit by night of Nicodemus,-the condemnation had already begun. The light had already manifested itself in the world; it had already called forth a decision and a separation, though at first only as germinant. On the one hand, the majority of the Jewish rulers, who as the deciding authorities are called οἱ ἄνθρωποι, had already chosen the darkness. On the other hand, the upright had begun, although timidly like Nicodemus, to come to the light. Christ could therefore point to the condemnation as a fact already existing. Therefore the reasons on account of which some would separate this section from the conversation itself, are not decisive; while we, on the contrary, have cogent reasons for maintaining the unity of the two parts. Lcke remarks, that everything is wanting by which the transition from the conversation to John’s own reflections would be outwardly marked; on the other hand, the γὰρ (John 3:16) seems to mark most distinctly the continuation of the conversation. Besides, it is to be observed that the conversation would be in its structure a fragment if it ended with John 3:15, and that it would break off just where it had begun, and announced an important conclusion. The ἐπουράνια, namely, which are announced in John 3:12, are partially communicated in John 3:13-14; the continuation follows from John 3:16-36. This complement belongs, therefore, altogether to the conversation. But one most decisive circumstance has been altogether overlooked. In John 3:15 there is no special reference to Nicodemus-no farewell; it is all general. On the other hand, John 3:20-21 contain a most touching farewell; which marks distinctly the relation of this man to Jesus, as we have already noticed above; since Jesus rebukes with a gentle censure his coming by night, and invites him to come to Him for the future in clear daylight. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 89: 02.092. SECTION VII ======================================================================== SECTION VII the last public testimony of the baptist to jesus (John 3:22-36) From Jerusalem Jesus betook Himself with His disciples to a district in the land of Judea, which is not more distinctly specified. Here He tarried with them and baptized. On this latter point the Evangelist explains himself more particularly in chap. 4:2, and remarks that Jesus Himself baptized not, but His disciples. Therefore they baptized by His authority.1 John the Baptist was at the same time still discharging his office. But he was baptizing at Enon, near Salim; ‘because there was much water there,’ says the Evangelist. According to the old geographical tradition which we find in Eusebius and Jerome, this town was situated in the Samaritan territory.1 But the circumstance that the Baptist should baptize on Samaritan ground has appeared so strange, that it has been preferred to place these towns lower down, within the bounds of Judea, or to consider places with names of a similar sound-Silchim2 or Seleim, and Ain, which, according to Joshua 15:32, lay on the most southern border of Judea-as those which are here specified. But Silchim is not convertible with Salim, though we might allow Ain to be used for Enon. Besides, it is improbable that John, so short a time before his imprisonment, should have stayed here in the south of Judea. We must therefore turn to those places fixed by tradition, if we would know anything more exactly about Enon. But if we were induced to give up the site of Enon, as stated in Jerome, by remarking that there might be, and actually were, places in different parts of Palestine which were called ‘Fountains’ or ‘at the pools,’ yet it must be observed that here in the text, as in Jerome, Enon and Salim are closely connected. When therefore ancient tradition points out two places which are quite contiguous, as the Gospel history asserts of two like-named places, and when that tradition maintains that these places are the same which are here mentioned, we must let the matter rest. And in this instance it is nothing to the purpose to remove the place into the Jewish territory, in order to make the representation more readily explicable that John baptized there. The view must be justified rather on the ground of the judaizing mind of the Baptist That large-hearted theocrat, who addressed to the Pharisees that bold word of Universalism, ‘God can of these stones raise up children unto Abraham,’ was able as a prophet to occupy a stand-point on which he could regard the Samaritans as a part of the Israelitish family. It would be committing a great mistake to confound his theocratic strictness with Jewish narrow-heartedness, and evince a blunted sensibility to the mental elevation of that ardent strictness. How could that mightiest thunderer in Israel, Elijah, be an inmate so long with a Phœnician widow, if in that zealous spirit there had not been lodged the germ of the most wide-hearted humanity? Thus Jonah was sent to preach repentance to the heathen Ninevites. But our text appears to contain several indications that John was now baptizing in the Samaritan territory. Probably the Evangelist had this contrast in his thoughts when he wrote the singular clause, ‘Jesus came’ (from Jerusalem, in the centre of Judea) ‘into the land of Judea,’ and baptized there. He also assigns a reason for the remarkable choice of a place by the Baptist, in the words, ‘because there was much water there;’ and when he goes on to say, ‘and they came and were baptized,’ it seems as if he meant-‘it succeeded, though it seemed hazardous,-persons presented themselves for baptism even here.’ Also, the fact, that a Jew1 disputed with some disciples of John about the baptism of purification,2 appears to indicate that this Jew had some objection to make to the validity of the rite administered by the Baptist. Probably he gave the preference to the rite which the disciples of Jesus administered, because it was performed in the land of Judea. But, lastly, it might naturally be expected that the man who was destined to devote his life to God as the forerunner of Christ, the great restorer of all Israelites, and in truth of all nations, would at least take the first steps in his office, to pass beyond the bounds of an exclusive Judaism. But if any one made objections to this bold enlargement of his sphere, he would probably answer, in a tone of rebuke, I find much water here, and much water I require for the purification of this people. Thus, then, Jesus and John for a short time were occupied near one another in the administration of baptism. The Evangelist adds to his account the explanatory observation, ‘John was not yet cast into prison.’ This at least determines the correct chronological relation between the beginning of the history of the ministry of Jesus, according to John, and the first occurrences in the same ministry which are narrated in the synoptic Gospels. It has been already remarked, that the synoptists pass over the beginning of it. But it has been thought surprising that Jesus and John should thus stay and baptize in each other’s vicinity. It may be here asked, especially, why John did not enrol himself among the disciples of Jesus? This has already been answered. In this case, John would have relinquished the Messianic service which had been specially assigned to him. This must have made him certain, in his position, that Jesus did not require him to be an outward follower. But the other question is more difficult, Why did Jesus allow His disciples to baptize close by John? At the first glance it might seem as if the great act of purifying was thereby divided. But this act was of such significance, that possibly ten zealous theocrats might have administered it in different parts of the land, without breaking up its unity; just as now it is administered by thousands of the clergy throughout the world, and everywhere has the same meaning of incorporation into the Church of Christ. Besides, we cannot but suppose that the disciples who here surround the Lord, and probably consisted of some of John’s disciples, whose numbers might be increased by Jewish adherents of Jesus, were accustomed to adopt this method of preparing the way for the kingdom of Christ. And it might be important to them to perform their old work with new joy and mental elevation in the presence of Christ and under His authority. The relation of the baptism of John to the baptism of Jesus has been often discussed. Tholuck1 distinguishes the baptism of John from this first baptism of Jesus, and this again from the baptism of the Christian Church, which Jesus instituted before His ascension, and which began after the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. According to Tholuck, the first baptism was into the future Messiah; the second, into the Messiah who had actually come; the third, again, had a character of its own. We may certainly speak of different forms of baptism; but it is not practicable to see in them, at the same time, different kinds of baptism. It is here of the first importance to determine the peculiar significance of baptism. The essential character of baptism lies not in its various relations to the appearance of the Messiah, but in its symbolically representing the purification (the καθαρισμός) of the defiled for the pure host, the community or society of the Messiah. Hence there is only one proper baptismal rite from the beginning of the tabernacle to the end of the world-the water-baptism of the theocratic community, as a symbol of the Spirit-baptism by which this community is converted from a typical into a real community of God. The Spirit-baptism of Christ is, after all, the only proper baptism, when we speak of the essence of baptism and not of the rite. On the other hand, water-baptism is the only proper baptism, when we speak of the rite and not of its essential significance. Hence Lcke2 is justified in maintaining ‘the essential identity of John’s baptism with Christ’s water-baptism;’ only it easily creates a misconception to designate the latter baptism as water-baptism. The relation of symbolical to essential baptism is represented in a threefold manner. On the one hand stands the baptism of John-water-baptism connected with the promise of Spirit-baptism. On the other hand stands the proper baptism of Christ-the Spirit-baptism connected with the sacramental sealing by means of water-baptism. Between these two appears the third form of baptism, the transitional form-a water-baptism which was supplemented by the beginning of the Spirit-baptism. The baptism of the Christian Church may appear in all these forms.3 That water-baptism which some disciples of Jesus administered for a while under His inspection in Judea, may be regarded as a transitional form. Christ permitted His disciples this kind of ministry, while He supplemented it by His own. But why, then, did the disciples suddenly abandon their administration of baptism? For this we must suppose, since, till the founding of the Christian Church at Pentecost, we hear no more of baptism. On this striking fact Lcke makes the following remark (Commentar, i. 559): ‘Must not the reason of this have been, that definite faith in Jesus the Christ, as involved in baptism, appeared so seldom in the lifetime of Jesus, and so much the less, as Christ, in reference to His adherents, attended more to their selection than to increasing their number?’ But yet, during the whole period of Christ’s ministry, individual confessors of His Messiahship were always coming forward, who, according to Lcke’s supposition, must have submitted to baptism. This difficulty can only be explained from the far too little understood social significance of baptism. Baptism constituted a distinct contrast between the old impure, and the new purified community. As long as the Baptist and Christ were not checked in their ministry, the Israelitish social body (Societat) might be regarded as a community making a transition from impurity to purity. But no sooner was the Baptist, the primary organ of purification, imprisoned, and the guilt of his execution laid on the tetrarch of Galilee, and mediately on the whole land, than the state of the case was altered. Whither should the baptized in Galilee be directed and conducted? The circumstance that the baptism of Jesus was questioned in the Sanhedrim (John 4:1) might render doubtful the admissibility of further baptisms. The nation, as a nation, could no longer be baptized when the representatives of the nation gave positive indications that this act appeared to them objectionable or suspicious. But as Jesus not long after was treated by the Sanhedrim as an excommunicated person (John 9:22), it would have been in the highest degree against the truth and social sense of honour, if He had introduced baptized persons into that social body which had excommunicated Him. But as little was it the time when, in contrast to the impure host, He could have formed a pure one into an outward Christian society. He must now go out of that camp bearing His reproach (Hebrews 13:13), and, by the baptism of blood which He endured, a people were collected who were ready to go with Him out of that camp, and to present themselves opposite to it as His Church. Hence baptism was now soon suspended till the completion of his work. Through the ministry of Christ, the baptism of His disciples gained a fuller meaning and made a more powerful impression than the baptism of John. For it so happened that the confluence of the people to Jesus became greater, while that to the Baptist declined. This mortified John’s disciples; and, moreover, at last the reproaches which that Jew mentioned by the Evangelist seems to have cast upon them, aroused their jealousy. So they hasten to him and vent their complaints. ‘Rabbi, He that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all men come to Him.’ They avoid mentioning the name of Jesus-a suspicious sign! They seem to wish to suggest to their master, that Jesus, on the other side Jordan, had allowed Himself to be reckoned as one of his disciples. At all events, they would fasten upon Him an abuse of the witness borne to Him by John: now that He has the attestation, they mean to say, He requites the Baptist by commencing His own ministry, and renouncing his acquaintance. Undeniably an envious thought of this kind oozes out in their discourse. And now the full greatness of the Baptist is shown in contrast with the littleness of His disciples: in them only the most superficial of his once flourishing school were left to him, while he had dismissed the best to the school of Jesus. Solemnly, and with an inspired sacerdotal presentiment of his approaching tragical exit, and of the incipient glorification of Jesus, he yet once more bears his testimony to Him: ‘A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven. Ye yourselves bear me witness that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am sent before Him.’ He then describes the glorious position of Jesus. ‘He that hath the bride, is the bridegroom.’ To Him belongs the Church of God in its noble first-fruits as well as in all its future members, the community of those who are susceptible of life from God; in Him it recognizes its beloved Lord who brings to it the life of God. Since the Church of God hastens to Him as a bride, it marks Him as the bridegroom. But the friend of the bridegroom is free from envy; rather he rejoices with cordial sympathy. The happy and jubilant tone of the bridegroom’s voice moves his friend’s soul to greater joy. ‘This my joy,’ the Baptist says with unconscious dignity to his little disciples, who in their poverty of soul would importune him not to give up his reputation unenviously to his greater successor-‘is now fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease.’ His eye then brightens into prophetic clearness, that he may once more behold and announce the Messianic glory of Jesus. ‘He that cometh from above is above all,’ he exclaims. ‘He that is of the earth, is earthly, and speaketh of the earth. He that cometh from heaven is above all.’ How the one, the Adamic man, rises out of the poor earth. He is in his origin earthly-minded, and cannot perfectly rise above himself. Even his illumination, and the very expressions of his rapture, are still affected with earthly obscurity, in contrast to the clear intuition of Him who comes from heaven in the royal perfection of the new life, and who is decidedly above all. Conformably to this inspired hymn, in which he expresses with the deepest humility the whole contrast between the Adamic and the Christian æon-between the men who are of the earth, among whom he reckons himself, in contrast to Christ, and the man from heaven-he turns to his disciples in their littleness with the admonitory declaration, ‘And what He who cometh from heaven hath seen and heard, that He testifieth. But though He announces heavenly things with an intuition clear as heaven itself, no man receiveth His testimony.’ The critic here reminds us, with annoying literality, that this contradicts the preceding account (ver. 26): ‘All men come to Him.’ This is indeed a contradiction, but it is a contradiction of the noble-minded master against his little-minded disciples. For them it was far too much-they saw all men run to Jesus; for him it was far too little. Manifestly he would have gladly sent them also to Jesus; and if they were not willing to go, he would gladly have got rid of them. ‘He that receiveth His testimony,’ he then adds by way of encouragement, ‘hath set to his seal that God is true.’ From what follows, it is evident that the Baptist uttered these highly important words in the most original sense. For thus he proves his own expression: ‘He whom God hath sent, speaketh the words of God.’ He speaks the words of God simply; that is, all God’s words, which the various prophets had spoken in parts, He utters together in the living unity of His word, in complete revelation. ‘For God giveth not the Spirit in limited measure,’ since He now gives it to Him in its perfected clearness. Christ has it in its fulness. Whoever therefore repairs to Christ, proves that he recognizes His words as the words of God-that therefore all the words of Christ agree with all the words of all the prophets; but not merely with these, but also with all the exigencies of his spiritual life produced by God. And herein lies the strongest confirmation of the truthfulness of God in its highest manifestation, which consists exactly in the agreement of all His words and operations. It is a beautiful verification of the truthfulness of God, that the leaf of the plant agrees with its flower, and the flower with man’s sense of the beautiful. But the highest glorification of the divine truthfulness is revealed in this-that the positive revelation of God in Christ agrees with the word of God in faithful hearts, with the faith of the elect. But this agreement of faithful hearts with the words of Christ must be quite perfect, since He has the fulness of the Spirit, so that no deficiency of the Spirit can form breaches and divisions between Him and His people. ‘Yea, the Father loveth the Son’ (the seer proceeded to say), ‘and hath given all things into His hand.’ Thus the Baptist crowns his Messianic knowledge with the most luminous recognition, and then closes his exhortation as the forerunner with a sentence which is altogether worthy of the great zealot. ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that obeyeth not (ἀπειθῶν) the Son shall not see life (no, not from afar), but the wrath of God abideth on him.’ Such a man refuses to conduct himself aright towards the principle of life, and central point in which the whole world finds life, light, love, and salvation, and gains its pure ideality; and thus he takes a disturbing, hostile, false position against this Prince of life, against God, against the world and his own life. Wherefore the whole government of God must reveal itself to him as an overpowering, destructive, and fiery reaction of the righteousness of God; the wrath of God remains over him, its weight evermore pressing on him more powerfully and crushingly. This denunciation of the Baptist may be regarded as the last utterance of the Old Testament-the final peal of thunder from Sinai in the New Testament. notes 1. Schneckenburger, in his very learned work on the Antiquity of the Jewish Proselyte Baptism, and its connection with the Baptism of John and Christian Baptism (Ueber das Alter der jdischen Proselytentaufe, und deren Zusammenhang mit dem Johanneischen und christlichen Ritus), combats the view which deduces John’s baptism from a baptism of proselytes before the Christian era. His view is as follows (p. 184):-‘(i.) The regular admission of strangers into Judaism, as long as the temple stood, was by circumcision and sacrifice. A lustration followed the former and preceded the latter, like every other sacrifice, which, like all the other lustrations, was esteemed merely as a Levitical purification. (ii.) This lustration was not distinguished in outward form from the ordinary lustrations, but was performed like those merely by the proselytes on themselves. (iii.) This lustration by degrees, yet not demonstrably before the end of the third century, took the place of the sacrifices which had been discontinued,’ &c. The above-named learned writer has laid too great a stress on the difference, that the proselyte did not undergo the lustration by means of another person, but performed it himself. Even in John’s baptism of the persons to be purified, the Baptist did not dispense with the self-purification, but on the one hand, before baptism, represented the excommunicating, and on the other hand, after baptism, the receiving Church.1 The fundamental idea in which all the lustrations were one-namely, that they were intended to purify men symbolically for their entrance into the fellowship of the pure community-ought to have been placed in the foreground of the disquisition. If the people of Israel were obliged to wash their clothes at Sinai (Exodus 19:10); if Aaron and his sons, before putting on their priestly vestments, were to wash themselves before the door of the tabernacle (Exodus 29:4); they were obliged to undergo, as to its symbolical meaning, the same purification as the leper when he was purified. But that purification the person to be purified performs on himself, because it relates to the merely probable, or to the daily leper defilements which would not necessitate the defiled to a sojourn without the camp, to which a number of leper defilements belonged (compare Leviticus 15:1-33, Leviticus 17:1-16, &c. This, on the contrary, the priest performed before the camp, since he sprinkled upon the leper seven times with water (Leviticus 14:7). We have here also a lustration which the priest performed on a Jew in order to his being received again into the congregation; and therefore, even according to Schneckenburger’s distinction, a kind of baptism. It is a very remarkable fact, that the Jews who (according to Numbers 31:19) had, in fighting with the Midianites, come in contact with the corpses of the slaughtered Gentiles, were obliged to remain without the camp seven days, and to be purified by being sprinkled with water. In the same manner, they were obliged to purify their captives whom they kept as slaves, and also their booty; they were even to pass through fire whatever could bear it, such as gold and silver, and other metals. Moreover, the passages are to be noticed which relate to the reception of Gentiles into Israel (Joshua 6:23; Joshua 9:23; Ruth 3:3), as well as the seven times washing in Jordan prescribed to the Gentile leper Naaman (2 Kings 5:10), which corresponded to the sevenfold sprinkling of the Israelitish lepers. Also the washing of Judith (Jude 12:8) may here be noticed. Thus much is evident from the Old Testament, that the Jews themselves who had come in contact with Gentiles, to say nothing of the Gentiles, were obliged to undergo a lustration. For this reason the sprinkling of the Gentiles promised by the prophets (Isaiah 52:15) denotes their solemn and actual reception into the theocratic community. From this significance of the Old Testament lustration, we can understand why Peter regarded the deluge as a baptism of purification for the human race preserved in the family of Noah (1 Peter 3:21), and why Paul also looked upon the passage of the Israelites through the Red Sea as a baptism (purifying them from contact with the Egyptians), 1 Corinthians 10:1, compared with Hebrews 10:22. As to the Jewish testimonies on this subject from the times of Christ, Schneckenburger (p. 103) quotes a passage from Philo (ed. Mang. ii. 658), on which he decides as on another: In these passages reception into Judaism is spoken of; so it appears that no doubt respecting the existence of proselyte baptism can any longer be entertained. But, in fact, Philo here appears to characterize the three conditions of reception into Judaism-circumcision, ablutions or baptism, and sacrifice-in descriptions for the uninitiated, in the same manner as the ancient Christians in the disciplina arcani treated and described the Christian forms of consecration as mysteries. Accordingly, ὁóéôçò would be a periphrasis for circumcision, καθάρσεις for baptism, and ἐíõñïí for sacrifice. The passages which the author (p. 79) quotes from Arrian1 and (p. 127) from Cyprian, obtained their full significance only if, as has been remarked, the various Jewish lustrations are viewed in their common significance; and in connection with this discussion, the talmudic and rabbinical accounts which have been adduced, appear as witnesses that those ablutions which the proselytes had to undergo, after the time of Christ, certainly gained an increased consideration, yet without becoming for the first time a rite of consecration.2 2. In modern times the Section John 3:31-36 has been held to be a further simplification by the Evangelist, in which he has developed the testimony of the Baptist. As to the supposed contradiction between John 3:26 and John 3:32, which has been urged in favour of this view, the explanation already given is sufficient. When, further, doubts are entertained about attributing to the Baptist the profound christological expressions that follow, it appears to be overlooked, in reference to this passage, as in other cases, that we have to recognize in the Baptist not merely an expounder of the Old Testament, not merely a zealous preacher of repentance, but a prophet, who, like Isaiah and Ezekiel, in inspired utterances could express profound insight into the nature of the Messiah, which far transcended his common matured views. And it is well to bear in mind that we have here before us his last testimony to the glory of Jesus. But the close of the discourse is altogether conformable to the Old Testament stand-point of the Baptist-the wrath of God is denounced on the unbelieving. The circumstance that the Baptist speaks in the present tense, as Lcke remarks, favours the opinion that the Baptist is here continuing his own discourse. Lcke admits that the Evangelist mingles his own train of thought with the discourse of the Baptist. But we believe that in this section there exists the unmixed stream of thought of one in a state of mental transport. No doubt the Evangelist’s phraseology has contributed to the form of the representation. But if here John the Baptist speaks like the Evangelist, it is right to recollect that possibly the Evangelist might, in some measure, learn from his former teacher to express himself like John the Baptist. The hypothesis that this section originated in the desire of the author of the fourth Gospel to exhibit a more favourable testimony of the Baptist to Christ than history furnished, in order to make an impression on John’s disciples, is, to say the least, in the highest degree unworthy of him; and it is almost needless to remark, that a Christian, apart from inclination, could hardly be so simple as to hope that by such a fiction he could make the disciples of John uncertain of their own tradition. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 90: 02.093. SECTION VIII ======================================================================== Section VIII the conversation of jesus with the samaritan woman (John 4:1-42) Jesus had carried on His ministry in Judea with success probably for more than half a year, when suddenly the hostile feeling of the Pharisaical party compelled Him to quit the region that had been so highly favoured. The Evangelist only slightly hints at the cause of this interruption. The Lord had been informed, and indeed was well aware (ἔγνω), that ‘the Pharisees had heard that Jesus1 made and baptized more disciples than John.’ He had been denounced, and the denunciation had taken effect. But as soon as the ill-will of the Sanhedrim offered opposition to His ministry in this theocratic form, He withdrew, as we have seen, for the sake of social order and truth. But that He at once left Judea, was a consequence of His now modified position. Not only the foresight with which He avoided hazarding His life till the decisive moment, but also the holiness of His consciousness, which abhorred all intermingling of the kingdom of heaven with a corrupt hierarchy, drove him from the public scene of action in Judea. And there was besides another serious motive.1 John was just about this time cast into prison by Herod (Matthew 4:12; Mark 1:14). This imprisonment was, it is true, the act of the ruler of Galilee, but it gave, most probably, great satisfaction to the Sanhedrim. To that body the disturber of their repose seemed now put out of the way. But there appeared immediately, as they thought, a greater one in his place (John 4:1).2 Hence by the imprisonment of John the Sanhedrim appeared to be excited, and inclined to remove the second hated preacher of repentance, of whom they knew that He did not suit their plans. Jesus had gone up to the feast at Jerusalem in the month of March. When He returned it was about seed-time, as may be inferred with probability from John 4:35, and therefore in November or December.3 He took His way directly through Samaria, as He often did, without troubling Himself about the scruples of the Jews, who preferred making the journey between Judea and Galilee through Perea. But this time he had a special reason for going through Samaria: because He was probably already near the Samaritan border.4 He must (ἔäåé) therefore, under the circumstances, take this route. A place in Samaria, in which He stayed a short time, claims our attention on three accounts: for its name; for its local and historical relations; and for a memorable relic of former times, Jacob’s well. It has been generally supposed that the city of Sichem5 was the place where Jesus sojourned, but it is remarkable that the Evangelist calls it Sychar. According to different derivations, the place obtained the nickname of the town of the drunken, or the town of falsehood.6 But a third derivation makes the name a title of honour, the town of the sepulchre;1 and since this designation has the support of Jewish tradition,2 it is to be preferred to the former, which rests on mere conjecture. If John had wished to intimate that Jesus was not ashamed to connect Himself with the citizens of that centre of Samaritan life, which by the Jews was called the abode of drunkenness or falsehood, he would have brought it forward more distinctly. But indeed he could without difficulty make use of a more significant designation, deviating from the common appellation, if it were already known, since he was fond of significant names. Yet it was also possible that the Sychar of the Evangelist was distinguished from Sichem proper as a suburb. According to Schubert’s route,3 travellers come first to Jacob’s well, where ‘a few houses are standing close;’ then they reach Joseph’s grave, ‘in a hollow of Mount Gerizim;’ and then, ‘farther westward in the valley, the modern Sichem.’ The city of Sychar, as fixed by the Evangelist, lay near the parcel of ground that Jacob, as the Israelitish tradition reports, according to Joshua 24:32, gave to his son Joseph. The district in which the modern Sychem is situated, is, according to K. v. Raumer,4 compared by Clarke to the country about Heidelberg. ‘The city of Nâbulus’ (the former Sichem), says Robinson,5 ‘is long and narrow, stretching close along the north-east base of Mount Gerizim, in this small, deep valley, half-an-hour distant from the great eastern plain. The streets are narrow; the houses high, and in general well built, all of stone, with domes upon the roofs as at Jerusalem. The valley itself, from the foot of Gerizim to that of Ebal, is here not more than some 500 yards wide, extending from south-east to north-west.… Mounts Gerizim and Ebal rise in steep, rocky precipices immediately from the valley on each side, apparently some 800 feet in height. The sides of both these mountains, as here seen, were to our eyes equally naked and sterile; although some travellers have chosen to describe Gerizim as fertile, and confine the sterility to Ebal. The only exception in favour of the former, so far as we could perceive, is a small ravine coming down opposite the west end of the town, which indeed is full of fountains and trees; in other respects, both mountains, as here seen, are desolate, except that a few olive-trees are scattered upon them.’1 The same travellers found the noted Jacob’s well, 35 minutes’ distance from the town. The well had evident marks of antiquity, but was now dry and forsaken. According to Maundrell, the well was dug in a hard rock, was about 9 feet in diameter and 105 feet in depth. It was full of water to the height of 15 feet. But, according to Robinson, the old town probably lay nearer this well than the present. Yet he remarks this could not have been the proper well of the town, since there was no public machinery for drawing water. As the woman came hither and drew water, we must suppose that either she lived near the well, or that the inhabitants attached a particular value to the water of this ancient Jacob’s well, and now and then took the trouble to go and draw from it. The well was held in great veneration from the tradition connected with it; the Samaritans were proud of this inheritance of the patriarch Jacob. Jesus was weary with travelling when He reached it, and so sat down at the edge of the well. It was about midday. The disciples were gone into the city to buy food. Jesus therefore accustomed them to combat and lay aside their Jewish prejudices. There came a Samaritan woman to draw water. Jesus said to her, ‘Give Me to drink!’ These few words were of infinite significance and efficacy. It was the beginning of that agency of Christ’s Spirit which broke down the ancient partition-wall of grudge and hatred between the Jews and Samaritans, who afterwards were to enter the Church of Christ. It shows how an inoffensive, humble request does wonders. But not only that the Lord made his request to a Samaritan woman, and to a woman alone, but lastly, and more especially, to a sinful, erring woman, exhibits him in the full freedom and grandeur of His love. For, as to the first point, it would have been an offence to any Jew, for the Jews avoided all intercourse with the Samaritans; as to the second point, every Rabbi would have taken offence, since, especially for Rabbis, it was unbecoming to converse alone with foreign women; and, thirdly, it would have been an offence to every Pharisee, for it was a pharisaical maxim that the fallen were to be treated with severity. Thus, then, this brief request of the Lord at one and the same time displayed His spiritual glory in three directions. The woman was at once struck with the extraordinary character of this address. She recognized in the language, or in the dress and in the whole bearing of the Man, to what nation He belonged, and could not forbear expressing her astonishment: ‘How is it that Thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria?’ Although the woman might vaguely be sensible of the condescension of this wonderful Jew, yet she seemed disposed to gratify her national feeling at His need of help. She lays great stress on the circumstance that He, the supposed proud Jew, is the petitioner, that in His need He is now depending on her benevolence. Her tone leads the Lord to bring forward the opposite relation: that she is the needy person, and that He is the possessor of the true fountain of satisfaction. Oh! hadst thou known to value the gift of God, this singular opportunity, and who it is that offers thee to drink, thou wouldst have asked of Him, and not in vain: He would have given thee living water, water gushing from the fountain. He shows that her answer was quite beside the mark. She made a difficulty of granting the smallest request; He wished from the first to be bountiful to her in granting the highest object of desire. Thus the way of salvation is opened for the heart of a poor creature lost in vanity, but, as it appears, impelled by a deep ardent longing. The woman takes the figurative language literally: ‘Sir,’ she says, ‘Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; from whence, then, hast Thou that living water? Art Thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?’ Still she would persuade herself that He is the needy person, although she cannot get rid of the impression that He is no ordinary man. But since she fancies that He presents Himself to her in Jewish pride as ready to confer a favour, her national feeling rises still higher; she stands before Him as a daughter of Jacob, and will not allow Him to depreciate her Jacob’s well. If one on this occasion spoke to her of superior living water or spring-water, she first of all assumed that he must draw it from the depths of this well. But since Jesus had no vessel for drawing, He seemed disposed to extol perhaps some fountain in the neighbourhood, in preference to the water of this well. But for that He was bound to show a higher authority than that of their father Jacob. Probably it belonged to the orthodoxy of the Samaritans, that the water of this well was superior to that of the neighbouring fountains, and they fortified themselves in this opinion by the authority of the family of Jacob. However sinful the woman was, she strictly adhered to the preservation of the tradition. But Jesus now brought her to institute a comparison between His fountain and her well. ‘Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life.’ This is again in the Lord’s wonted manner; it is the decisive word, uttered with the greatest confidence, and rousing the soul of the hearer from its lowest depths. She cannot deny that the water of Jacob’s well, however excellent, cannot quench the thirst for ever. But now she requests the Lord to give her a draught of that water which will quench her thirst for ever. This promise must surely have awakened in her a misgiving feeling of her wants-of the wants of her eternity! Still more the promise, that this mysterious water would be converted in the person who partook of it into a fountain from which streams would flow in rich abundance throughout eternity! The critics make the remark, that in John’s Gospel the Lord always speaks so high, everywhere too high for the understandings of his hearers. It is true He everywhere speaks equally high, down out of high heaven itself, as the Baptist says. And how could He speak lower? But it is manifest that He speaks here as clearly as possible. Nicodemus receives the promise of the Spirit under the image of the blowing wind, of the fresh vitalizing wind which brings the fresh vernal life; the Samaritan woman receives it under the image of a wonderful fountain flowing for ever through an eternal world, and able to quench all her thirst, even her deep, obscure longings. And they both hear Him with a successful result; as all do who hear Him with susceptibility. To this promise the woman answered, ‘Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw.’ She can now no longer suppose that He is speaking of earthly water, though she has no clear perception of the heavenly water. At all events, the presentiment of a wonderful satisfying of her unsatisfied life is awakened in her. It is indeed strange that she says, ‘Give me that water, that I come not hither to draw!’ But perhaps the visits of the woman to Jacob’s well were connected with the impression of a meritorious sanctity in them as a kind of religious service. At least, according to Robinson, there must have been wells at Sichem which lay nearer the town. In that case she might easily surmise that her journeys would come to an end as soon as she obtained such satisfaction. At all events, her answer is not to be understood as said in ridicule; it rather seems to express the awakening of an unlimited confidence in this wonderful personage. The answer of the Lord has been thought strange. Suddenly breaking off from what He had been conversing upon, He commands her, ‘Go, call thy husband, and come hither!’ This apparent digression in the discourse has been thus explained: The woman now required to be led back to her own life-to be conducted to self-knowledge and repentance. And as it was necessary for Nicodemus to get an insight into his entire spiritual ignorance before he could be benefited by higher communications, particularly respecting the person of Jesus, so this woman needed to be made sensible of her own unworthiness. But although the Lord had this result in view, yet He might not have used the requirement, ‘Call thy husband!’ as a pretext in order to lead her to a confession of her criminal course of life. Rather a second motive was combined with that first; and caused Him to ask for her husband. It has been remarked, that it was a rule laid down by the Rabbis, that no man should converse for any length of time with a female, particularly with a stranger, and that Christ had this rule in His eye. Lcke, on the contrary, starts the question, ‘If He had any regard for this, why did He not earlier break off the conversation, or indeed why did He enter upon it at all?’ Certainly Christ, according to rabbinical notions, would not have ventured to enter on such a conversation with the woman. But at this moment a turn occurred in the conversation which made the presence of the husband imperative according to a right superior to the rabbinical, when the wife stood (generally speaking) under the rightful authority of a husband. Hitherto the conversation had been the free intercourse of persons brought transiently into each other’s company, and as such raised above the exactions of a punctilious casuistry or scrupulous conventionality. But now, since the woman had shown herself disposed to become a disciple of Jesus, to enter into a nearer relation to Him, it was proper that her husband should now be present. According to Jewish regulations, a wife was not permitted to receive special religious instruction from a Rabbi without the sanction of her husband; indeed, such a condition is involved in the very nature of the marriage relation. The Lord therefore at this moment required, according to the highest, most exact social rights, that the woman should call her husband, though He already knew that she was not living in lawful wedlock.1 The woman replied, ‘I have no husband.’ Upon that the Lord rejoins, and surely with a penetrating look, ‘Thou hast well said, I have no husband; for thou hast had five husbands, and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband; in that saidst thou (too) truly.’ Confounded, the woman replied, ‘Sir, I perceive that Thou art a prophet.’ She admitted that he had hit the mark; that He had by one stroke depicted her life. And that she had been conscience-struck by the words of Jesus, is plain from the sequel; she declared to the people in the city, that Christ had told her all things that ever she did. We pass over the trivial remarks, by which this wonderful insight of Christ has been accounted for as merely accidental, or represented as a glance of absolute omniscience, and impossible. For it is obvious that we have here to do with the insight of the God-man’s deep knowledge of the soul and of life. That a woman has a husband, or is not a virgin, or that a woman is living in a criminal connection-this might perhaps be found out by any other person well versed in the study of human nature. But Christ could read the whole guilty history of the woman in her appearance. And as the forester concludes respecting the age of a tree from the rings in the wood, so Jesus found the different impressions of the psychical influence of the men with whom the woman had stood transiently in connection, again in her appearance. For it must be granted that every life-relation of this kind will leave a trace behind that is discernible by the eye of the highest intelligence. But especially must the images of these men have been strongly reflected in the psychical life of a woman who had been involved so deeply in the sexual relation. Perhaps, also, she had acquired from one a bigoted, from another a fickle disposition, and from another, again, other traits of character which were distinctly apparent.1 It was sufficient, however, that Jesus read the history of her life in her being, in her soul. He expressed her guilt, but also her misery. She had probably passed through a succession of divorces, of which, at all events, she had shared the criminality, and now lived in an immoral relation, either because her last marriage had not yet been dissolved, or because she had disengaged herself from the obligations of social morality. She was a great sinner, but also unhappy; in spite of all the confused restlessness of her soul in which she had been connected with so many husbands one after another, she had no husband. The words of Jesus had struck her conscience. She admitted her guilt in a dexterous manner, by making the admission to the Lord that He now spoke like a prophet. ‘But great is in her the impression of prophetic knowledge.’ It appears, in fact, that she comes to the following question not merely to ward off Christ’s reproof, but in the earnest spirit of religious inquiry. She brings forward the most decided point of controversy between the Jews and Samaritans, on which she wished to learn the prophet’s judgment: ‘Our fathers worshipped in this mountain.’ In these words she referred to the adjacent mountain Gerizim, on which the Samaritans formerly, in the time of Nehemiah, had erected a temple, and on which they even now offered their prayers, though about the year 129 John Hyrcanus destroyed the temple. ‘But ye say,’ she continued, ‘that Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship.’ That was the point in dispute. But Jesus shows her the reconciliation in the distance which would consist in a decided elevation of both parties above the ancient antagonism: ‘Woman, believe Me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither on this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem worship the Father.’ Then this division will be made up in a higher union. But in the mean-time He declares that the Jews were in the right in opposition to the Samaritans. ‘Ye worship,’ He says, ‘ye know not what;’ that is, the object of your worship, your God, is no longer an object of true knowledge for you, since you have given up the continuance of His revelations, the constant guidance of His Spirit until the appearing of salvation. ‘But we,’ He adds, ‘know what we worship; for salvation is of the Jews.’ The true Jews worship the God of a continued revelation. The proof lies in this, that salvation comes forth from Judaism. Therein it is shown that their worship, in the best part of the nation, in their chosen, is clear, true, knowledge. This knowledge is matured in the life-power and form of salvation. But now He leads the woman beyond the difference between the Jews and Samaritans, after He had humbled the proud Samaritan in her, as a little before He had humbled the sinner. He announces to her a new religion, the commencement of which already existed in the true worshippers. Spirit and Truth are the holy mountains of worship for them, the temples in which they stand to offer prayer. And such worshippers God seeks; His Spirit forms them; and with them alone He enters into an everlasting living communion. And this in conformity to His nature. Since He is spirit, the infinitely free, conscious, omnipresent life, so the worshipper only reaches Him when he worships God in spirit, in the inward self-movement of his own life in God, in the eternity which is exalted above space and time. Only this worshipping in the spirit is real worship at all, the worshipping in truth; a worship in which man so becomes one with God in His all-comprehending life, that Gerizim and Moriah and all the mountain heights of the world are embraced by His prayer, as the being of God embraces them. And as life in the Spirit in union with God makes praying in truth the highest act of life, so on their side this energy of worship, in which man consciously comes before God as the eternal conscious Spirit, leads to life in the Spirit. The woman begins to reflect on the profound words of the Lord, which affect her whole Samaritan view of the world, and dart the first rays of spiritual life into the murky twilight of her bigotry. Should she give her full confidence to the noble stranger? The question is now respecting the highest spiritual surrender, which she can make only to the Messiah, the expectation of whom is now become alive in her soul with the excitement of her deepest feelings and anticipations. The true-hearted one turns again to the subject with earnestness of spirit: ‘I know,’ she says, ‘that Messiah cometh; and when He is come, He will reveal all things to us.’ Adalbert Maier justly remarks, ‘If the Messianic hope of the Samaritans, who received only the Pentateuch, was founded on Deuteronomy 18:15, they must have expected in the Messiah principally a divine teacher who would, like Moses, announce to them the divine will and lead them into truths hitherto concealed.’ He adds, it is in accordance with this that the woman says, when Messiah comes, He will tell us all things; also, the appellation of the Messiah which has been common among the Samaritans, that of the converter (äÇùÑÈäÅá, äÇúÈäÅá), accords with this expectation. We know not what anticipations might move the woman in the last words. At all events, it must have been a feeling of noble longing with which she sighed for the advent of the Messiah, for the Lord surprised her with the declaration, ‘I that speak unto thee am He.’ He was able to announce Himself as the Messiah, in the outlying world of Samaria, because their minds were not pre-occupied with the proud Messianic conceptions of the Jews. The woman longed after the Revealer of heavenly truth; and now the Converter stood before her! Meanwhile the disciples returned from the city, and marvelled that He talked with the woman. But they maintained a reverential silence; no one asked what He sought of her, or why He talked with her. But she left her water-pot, hastened to the city, and eagerly said to the people, ‘Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did; is not this the Messiah?’ She publicly proclaims her discovery, and the people are excited;-a multitude hasted from the city to Jesus. But neither the water-pot, which stands at the well as a witness of the mental emotion of the woman, who had left it in such haste, nor the elevated mood of their Lord, can draw the disciples’ attention to the spiritual transaction; they urge Him to eat. To them it seems the time for taking their repast. Then He says, ‘I have meat to eat that ye know not of!’ And now they express to one another the conjecture, that some one had brought Him food. By this sensuous perplexity they occasioned the utterance of that beautiful saying, ‘My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work!’ That was His pleasure, His life, His food! Thus a glorious noonday scene is exhibited to our sight. The disciples bring earthly food, and wished to arrange the meal. But their Master has forgotten thirst, and forgotten hunger, in order to save the soul of a poor woman. And the woman herself has already experienced the mighty influence of His Spirit; she has forgotten Jacob’s holy well and her water-pot, and shyness before the people, and even the inclination to palliate her course of life, and hastens to the city to spread the knowledge of Him. Jesus goes on to address the disciples: ‘Say ye not, There are yet four months,1 and then cometh harvest? Behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest.’ They saw the Samaritans coming: that was the harvest which their Master saw commencing, and hailed. Then follows the general remark, that in the spiritual field, the sower and the reaper rejoice together;-the reaper, for he receives his reward, and gains the precious fruit, the souls of men; but also the sower, for the reaper brings the fruit into eternal life, so that in the world of everlasting life the sower can celebrate with him the common spiritual harvest feast. And so it must be, the Lord means to say; for in this relation the proverb, One soweth, and another reapeth, first obtains its full essential verification. The expression is primarily used in reference to earthly relations, to signify the fact, that often one must labour by way of preparation for another, or labour vigorously without his seeing himself the fruit of his labours. But that is in a higher measure true in the spiritual field. Here, very often the sowers go very far before the reapers, and die without seeing any fruit. These are the noblest and severest sorrows on earth; herein the whole bitterness of that saying is felt, ‘One soweth, another reapeth.’ But the rich eternity, the world of eternal life, equalizes this disproportion. And thus in our case the word is true in the highest sense, He would further say: ‘I have sent you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labour; other men have laboured, and ye are entered into their labours.’ Taken in their connection, we cannot consider these words as having any reference to the later conversions at Samaria (Acts 8:5); and perhaps some would understand them in the sense that the Lord was now sowing the seed, and that they would one day reap the harvest. But this exposition is not admissible, because Christ would in that case mix two images together-one in which He now was reaping the harvest with His disciples, and the other according to which He, as the sower, preceded them, the reapers. But it is evident, and conformably to the Lord, that He gathers in His harvest with the disciples in living unity. Evidently He is speaking of a harvest to be gathered at the time then present, and His disciples must here regard themselves as generally, after the commission they had received, as the reapers. For these reapers the earlier sources of the seed must now be sought. A sowing certainly had taken place in Samaria, first by means of Moses, whose Pentateuch was in constant use among the people, then by the Jewish priests who had converted the heathen population in Samaria to the rudiments of Judaism; but perhaps, last of all, by John the Baptist, who had baptized at Enon near Salim, at all events not far from this region. If we assume that John the Baptist had kindled afresh in Samaria the expectation of the Messiah, we must regard the expression of Jesus as one of mournful recollection. He who had sown the seed would be rejoicing among the reapers in the eternal life of the other world. This mournful consolation was probable, for John had been apprehended a short time before in this district. But if we refer the words of Jesus to those oldest sowers of the divine seed in Samaria, they will appear to us in all their sublimity. Jesus is struck with amazement, that that ancient divine seed in Samaria, of which the sowers were hardly known, which seemed to be lost and buried in half-heathenish superstition, should now spring up suddenly for the harvest; and it testifies to the singular depth, we might say the exalted gratitude, as well as the love of His heart, that at this hour He is mindful of those ancient sowers, and rejoices in their joy to eternal life. In this state of feeling He says, ‘More than ever in the present case is that proverb verified.’ The Evangelist informs us that many people of that city believed on Jesus, in consequence of what the woman had communicated to them; how He had exposed to her what she had done; how He had laid before her the register of her criminal life. Hence these persons invited Him to tarry with them, and He abode there two days. For the disciples, this tended decidedly to promote their general philanthropy; it was a preparation for their future universal apostolic ministry. But now many more Samaritans believed on Jesus, and with a very different decisiveness, for they heard His own word; and they declared to the woman that their faith no longer stood on her report, which now seemed to them as insignificant (as λαλιά) compared with what they heard from Jesus Himself. They themselves had now heard Him, and knew that this was in truth the Messiah, the Saviour of the world. A quiet blessing rested on that harvest, which the Lord with His disciples had reaped in Samaria. It did not extend over the whole country. Hatred against the Jews formed too great an obstacle (Luke 9:51). Nor was it the design of Jesus to include Samaria generally in His ministry, since in doing so He might have seriously injured or ruined His ministry in Judea1 (Matthew 10:5). But the harvest was at the same time a sowing which, after the day of Pentecost, ripened into a fresh harvest, and from Sichem came forth one of the most distinguished apologists of the ancient Church, Justin Martyr.2 notes 1. Jacob’s ‘parcel of ground’ is situated on a plain to the east of Sichem (Robinson’s Biblical Researches, ii. 287). In going from Judea to Galilee this plain is passed through from south to north, and the valley of the city of Sichem, which runs between the mountains Gerizim and Ebal in a north-western direction, is on the left (Robinson, ii. 274). Hence Christ might send His disciples in that direction to the city, and wait for them at the well: by so doing He would remain meanwhile in the ordinary travelling route. This ‘parcel of ground’ was a constant possession of the children of Israel in North Palestine from the days of Jacob. According to Genesis 33:19, the patriarch bought it of the children of Hamor. At a later period (Genesis 34:1-31) Simeon and Levi took possession by force of the valley and Sichem, the city of Sichem the son of Hamor. To this event probably the expression in Genesis 48:22 refers, which the Septuagint distinctly explains of Sichem.1 But perhaps the language of the patriarch is figurative, and means, ‘I gained the parcel of ground which I gave to Joseph by my sword and bow;’ that is, by fair purchase, not by the sword and bow of his violent sons. According to Joshua 24:32, the bones of Joseph were buried here on the conquest of Canaan, and the ground became the inheritance of the sons of Joseph. Abraham himself made the first acquisition of the theocratic race in Canaan, when he purchased the field of Ephron, with the cave in Hebron, for a burial-place (Genesis 23:1-20) This was the first possession of Israel in the southern part of the land. 2. On the history of the hatred between the Jews and Samaritans, see Robinson, ii. 289. The religious archives of the Samaritans consist of a peculiar text of the Pentateuch,2 and ‘a sort of chronicle extending from Moses to the time of Alexander Severus, and which, in the period parallel to the book of Joshua, has a strong affinity with that book;’ besides ‘a curious collection of hymns, discovered by Gesenius in a Samaritan manuscript in England’ (Robinson, ii. 299). A knowledge of the religious opinions of the modern Samaritans has been derived from Samaritan letters, which, since the year 1589, have been received at various times in a correspondence carried on between the Samaritans and European scholars. Since the Samaritan religion was only a stagnant form of the ancient Mosaism in traditionary ordinances, which wanted, together with the living spirit of Mosaism, the formative power, the ability of advancing through prophecy to the New Testament, it is not surprising that the expectation of the Messiah among the Samaritans appears only as a stunted copy of its first Mosaic form. With this remark we may set aside what Bruno Bauer (Kritik der evang. Geschichte der Johannes, p. 415) has inferred from the Samaritan letter against the existence of a Messianic expectation among the Samaritans. In the Hatthaheb, whom they designated as their messiah, they could only have expected the appearance of the Deity returning to them. But the hope of an appearance of the Deity, or the transient revelation of an ‘archangel,’ must never be confounded with the theocratical expectation of a revelation of the Deity transforming the historical relations of the people. It is in favour of the originality of the Messianic expectation of the Samaritans, that they gave the Messiah a peculiar name. Robinson’s Samaritan guide showed him and his fellow-travellers on Mount Gerizim twelve stones, which he said were brought out of Jordan by the Israelites, and added, ‘And there they will remain until el-Muhdy (the Guide) shall appear. This,’ he said, ‘and not the Messiah, is the name they give to the expected Saviour’ (ii. 278). Baumgarten-Crusius, in his Commentary on John (p. 162), remarks, that he could cite it as the last word of Gesenius on this subject, that he had explained this Messianic name el-Muhdy, the leader, as equivalent to the earlier name Hathaf or Tahef, which, according to the explanation of Gesenius, denotes the restorer of the people in a spiritual and moral sense. In this question, as Von Ammon1 justly remarks, the fact is of great importance, that Dositheus,2 in the first century of the Christian era, could act the part of a false Messiah among the Samaritans, and likewise the influence which in a similar manner Simon Magus managed to gain among them when he represented himself as the great power of God (Acts 8:9-10). In addition to the above-named, Baumgarten-Crusius mentions also Menander. Very important is the fact brought forward by the last-named theologian, that the apostles (according to Acts 8:1-40) found so early an entrance into Samaria on the ground of the Messianic faith. It was indeed very possible that the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well made use of another term for designating the Messiah; but the term here given may be referred to the presumed ministry of the Baptist in Samaria.3 3. The coincidence noticed by Hengstenberg and others, of the five husbands of the Samaritan woman with the fivefold idolatrous worship which, according to 2 Kings 17:24, was practised by the five nations from Assyria, and the relation of the sixth husband, who was not the legal husband of the woman, to the mixed Jehovah-worship of the Samaritans, is an ingenious combination of the ‘coincidence of the history of this woman with the political history of the Samaritan people,’ which, according to Baumgarten-Crusius (Commentar z. Joh. 153), ‘is so striking, that we might be disposed to find in this language a Jewish proverb respecting the Samaritans applied to an individual of the nation.’ But thus much is clear in the simple historical construction of the Gospel, that Jesus makes the remark to the woman in a literal sense respecting the husbands whom she formerly had and the one whom she then had. For, had He wished to upbraid the national guilt of the Samaritans by an allegorical proverb, He could not have made use of the accidental turn which the conversation took by the guilty consciousness of the woman in order to appear as a prophet; but He would have felt Himself still more bound to have further developed the obscure proverb. Add to this, the Samaritan people practised the five modes of idolatrous worship and the service of Jehovah simultaneously, while this parallel is wanting in the history of the woman. At all events, an allegorical representation of the relation must have treated quite differently those historical relations. According to prophetic analogies, it must have been said inversely, Thou hast lived at the same time with five paramours, and now thou hast not returned to thy lawful husband; thou dost not yet fully belong to him. But allowing the simple fact of the narrative to remain intact, there lies in the aforenamed reference of it certainly no more than a significant, striking correspondency of the relations of this woman to the religious relations of her nation. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 91: 02.094. SECTION IX ======================================================================== SECTION IX the prophet in his own city of nazareth (John 4:43-44; Luke 4:14-30; Matthew 4:12-13; Mark 1:14; Matthew 13:53-58; Mark 6:1-6) The land of Galilee has received its name from a district on the northern borders of Palestine, in the tribe of Naphtali, which was very early so called.1 This circumstance, that the whole land of Galilee received its name from that region which latterly was distinguished as Upper Galilee from Lower Galilee, is of importance for this section, as well as for other passages in the Gospels. Probably the original Galilee, in the mouth of the Jewish people, was emphatically called Galilee; and according to the Israelitish mode of expression, persons might go from Lower Galilee to Galilee, as any one might go from Geneva to Switzerland, or from Berlin to Prussia.2 According to Josephus,3 Lower Galilee was divided from Upper Galilee by a frontier which went from Tiberias to Zabulon. According to the direction of this boundary line, Nazareth belongs to the province of Lower Galilee, while the Cana designated Kana el Jelil by Robinson as our New Testament Kana most probably belongs to the province of Upper Galilee.1 Most decidedly Capernaum is situated within the borders of Upper Galilee. From what has been said, it may be explained how Matthew could write that Jesus, ‘leaving Nazareth, came and dwelt at Capernaum,’ and that then was fulfilled what was prophesied by Isaiah of the Messianic visitation of Galilee of the Gentiles.2 In the same way the difficulty may be disposed of which is found in the Evangelist John, when he writes, that Jesus, after spending two days at Sychar, ‘departed thence and went into Galilee,’-to Galilee, for He Himself had testified, ‘that a prophet hath no honour in his own country;’ and when the Evangelist, notwithstanding these words immediately preceding, observes, that Jesus was very well received by the Galileans.3 From Samaria Jesus turned His steps to Nazareth, His wonted residence, where His mother still lived with His relations. But here He found, even from the first, no very agreeable reception, and a momentary admiration of His personality (Matthew 13:54) soon gave place to a decided aversion. They rejected Him, and Jesus then uttered these words, which have become a perpetual proverb: ‘No prophet is accepted in his own country’ (Luke 4:24). The Evangelist John, according to the plan of his work, might not narrate the incident; yet he slightly hints at it, since he has assigned the cause why Jesus did not take up His abode at Nazareth, but went to Galilee Proper (Old Galilee), in his own words. Matthew also at first only mentions the circumstance (Matthew 4:12-13), that Jesus left Nazareth and settled in Capernaum. But afterwards he recurs to the incident which occasioned the Lord’s making this change in His residence. That this is the same incident which we find related much earlier in Luke, can admit of no doubt. Matthew was induced by his peculiar arrangement to bring it in so late. He has formed no connection of events which forces us to consider his narrative as referring to a later period. Mark does not mention the change of residence; but he also narrates the same incident which is reported by Matthew (Matthew 6:1) in a combination of events, indeed, which is to be taken as an indefinite connection. But the Evangelist Luke gives to the history its correct chronological arrangement, if we except the inexactness already spoken of, which we find in all the synoptic Gospels; namely, that the return of Jesus from the wilderness is not distinctly separated from His later return from Judea. Luke is obviously occupied with this latter return. According to Matthew and Mark (Matthew 4:12; Mark 1:14), it was caused by John’s being cast into prison; according to John, there was this in addition, that Jesus could not carry on His work uninterruptedly in Judea. That the synoptists could not mean the return of Jesus from the wilderness, is plain from the circumstance that John was not then cast into prison. But they might also not mean the second return of Jesus from Jerusalem, which John 6:1 presupposes; for this time He soon hastened over the Galilean Sea, near the east coast, while the former time, according to the three first Evangelists, He spent a longer time on the west coast. John, too, about this time had been already put to death. The synoptists therefore have reported the same return of which John gives us an account in the fourth chapter. On the way to Nazareth Jesus everywhere appeared as a teacher in the synagogues of Lower Galilee, and His fame always went before Him1 (Luke 4:14-15). Accompanied by the disciples He had already gained, He entered His own town. Here He laid His hands on a few sick persons and healed them, as Mark tells us. But he immediately remarks, that the unbelief of His countrymen constantly counteracted and repressed the joyfulness of His spirit, so that, according to the truth and delicacy of His divine life, He could not do many miracles in this spiritual sphere. Thus, already troubled in spirit by their obtuseness, He entered on the following Sabbath into their synagogue.2 Here He gave an address. ‘After the custom of the ancient synagogue, persons in whom confidence was placed, even though they were not Rabbis, might give addresses in the synagogue. They stood while reading the word of God. The servant of the synagogue presented the roll, and then the reader, when he finished the section, gave an address. A passage from the prophets was joined to a section from the books of Moses.1 Jesus therefore stood up to read the prophetic section which was in order, according to the synagogue-service. This happened to be the prophet Isaiah; and for this Sabbath the section which He found on opening the roll was the remarkable prophecy of the Spirit’s anointing of the Messiah, Isaiah 60:1. Thus it came to pass that, according to the regulations of the synagogue, He was obliged to read the words, which He certainly could not have read by an evasion of these regulations, without arousing the displeasure of those old acquaintances who already undervalued Him2-‘The Spirit of the Lord is in and upon me: hence He has anointed me (and officially appointed me). He has sent me to announce glad tidings to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted3-to announce deliverance to the captives, and sight to the blind; to set at liberty them that are bruised-to proclaim the acceptable (the beautiful, great jubilee) year of the Lord.’4 After the solemn delivery of these words, which He not only read from the roll, but also uttered from the depths of His inner life, He rolled up the book, gave it to the servant, and sat down. Everything that He said and did made so powerful an impression on the hearts of the persons present, that all eyes in the synagogue were fastened upon Him. And He began to speak to them respecting the glad tidings. This day, He said, is this Scripture fulfilled in your ears. His compassion flowed forth to them with the holy words of Scripture and in His exposition of them, for they appeared to Him as those poor, and blind, and bound, and bruised ones to whom He was sent. And it seemed for a while as if their cold hearts would be thawed. They began to testify to the power of His Spirit, and wondered at the gracious words that streamed from His lips. But the ignoble feelings that mastered them soon produced a reaction against the salutary impression, and destroyed it. The unconscious self-contempt in which the earthly-minded man moves in his state of torpidity, does not allow him easily to arrive at the joyful belief, that close by his side, out of his own circle and the poor materials of his present condition, a higher life may possibly break forth, and even a heavenly messenger proceed. He is therefore tempted to put down the highest experience of this kind by the mean, the common, to disown the prophet, although he feels his spiritual power, because he appears in the form of a peasant, to whom he can as little attribute spiritual life as to himself. To this temptation the inhabitants of Nazareth succumbed. The first indication of altered feeling was shown in their beginning to look upon His peculiar gushing spiritual life as a strange, far-fetched scholastic learning, and initiation into the qualifications for miracle-working. They asked, Whence hath this man all these things? What is this wisdom (what school) which has been given to Him? and whence is it that such mighty works are performed by His hands? Is He not the carpenter, son of Joseph the carpenter? We know quite well how His mother is called, they would again go on to say, asking in jest, Is she not called Mary? And then they would proceed to count His brothers on their fingers-James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas; and even His sisters they cannot leave out in the reckoning. In this manner they were scandalized at Him; that is, they took an offence at His parentage which was fatal to them. As soon as Jesus remarked this change, He said to them, ‘Surely ye will repeat to Me the proverb, “Physician, heal thyself!” ’ He explained His meaning. They seemed at first to desire to see such deeds as, according to the generally spread report, He had performed at Capernaum; they seemed to expect that He would unfold all His powers of healing in His own city, and thus as it were heal Himself in the persons of His countrymen, in order to induce them to do Him homage more decidedly; in fact, He ought first of all to free Himself from the meanness of His own family relationships, if He expected them to regard Him as the Saviour of the nation.1 But He specified to them plainly the obstacle that withheld Him from working miracles there; namely, the sad fact that a prophet was held in no esteem in his own country, among his own kin, and in his own house (Mark 6:4). And then He justified His reserve by great examples in the Old Testament. The first example was this: there were many widows in Israel during the great famine in the time of Elias, when the heaven was shut up for three years and six months;1 but to none of them was Elias sent as a preserver but to a Gentile, the Sidonian woman at Sarepta. The second example was the miraculous cure of the Syrian captain, Naaman. There were indeed many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, but none of them were healed by the prophet, excepting the Syrian. So far the Jews had already in ancient times rejected the salvation which their prophets would have brought to them, and left it to strangers. The people of Nazareth must have felt the force of these examples. But they seemed to regard it as intolerable that He should compare them to the unsusceptible and the neglected, and even to idolaters among the Jews of former days, and that He should compare Himself with those great prophets. They were also offended at His taking histories from the Old Testament which seemed so very favourable to the heathen. Thus they gave themselves up to the ebullitions of an anger which, without their perceiving it, confirmed most completely the judgment He had expressed. In a paroxysm of rage they expelled Him from the synagogue, which amounted to excommunication; they thrust Him out of the city, which was equivalent to outlawry, the deprivation of the rights of citizenship. They even wished to deprive Him of life, and for that purpose led Him to a height on the edge of a precipice in order to cast Him down headlong. But at the critical moment the Lord displayed an operation of His personal majesty, which more than once in hazardous circumstances paralyzed His enemies and preserved His own life. He retired from among those who had hurried Him before them to that spot-so suddenly, so quietly, and yet with such dignity, that, awe-struck, they involuntarily formed a passage for Him. He therefore walked freely through them.2 He quitted His beautiful home as an outlaw. From its heights He had often surveyed the rich extent of His inheritance,-towards the magnificent plain of Esdraelon; towards ‘the round top of Tabor,’ and the opposite mountains of Samaria-the long line of Carmel; towards the Mediterranean, first of all to be seen far in the south on the left of Carmel, then interrupted by that mountain, and again appearing on its right; towards the beautiful northern plain and the northern mountains of Galilee, among them the mountains of Safed overtopping them all, on which that place is seen, ‘a city set upon a hill;’ farther towards the right, ‘a sea of hills and mountains’ backed by the higher ones beyond the Galilean Sea, and in the north-east by the majestic Hermon with its icy crown.1 From this sanctuary of His childhood He was now expelled. The inhabitants of Nazareth therefore commenced the rejection of Jesus, which afterwards became almost universal; since Judea, and even the whole earth on a larger scale, was the home, the Nazareth of this Prophet, which disowned Him in His poor human appearance. He was now separated by the ban of His countrymen from the consecrated home of His noble mother, to which, during His official life, He was always so glad to return. This probably occasioned His relatives afterwards to leave Nazareth. But the disfavour of the people of Nazareth could not prevent the Galileans from receiving Him with great joy; for the beautiful festive-time of enthusiastic welcome, with which His people had met Him, was not yet come to an end. notes 1. Both Neander and Von Ammon place the expulsion of Jesus from Nazareth after His reception by the Samaritans. But the ingenious supposition of Von Ammon, that ‘the hospitable reception given to Jesus by the Samaritans contributed greatly to His unfriendly reception at Nazareth,’ is destitute of proof. 2. By means of the above distinction between the provincial and the political and geographical meaning of the name Galilee, the difficulty which expositors have found in John 4:44 might be obviated. The Evangelist, as well as Matthew (Matthew 4:12), under the strong influence of the provincial mode of expression, presupposes a contrast between the home circuit of Jesus and Galilee, and forms his phraseology in ver. 44 according to this contrast. In this way the different ingenious, attempts to explain the passage in question are disposed of. See Lcke’s Commentar, i. 613. That Jesus, by His own country in which He had no honour, could not mean Judea, although He was born in Bethlehem, is sufficiently evident (apart from the favourable reception He met with in the land of Judea) from the matter-of-fact relation which lies at the basis of the declaration of Jesus. It was not because the prophet is born in a certain place, but because he has grown up in it, that his countrymen are accustomed to regard him as their equal, and thus he becomes unimportant to them. Besides, the Jews did not know much about the birth of Jesus at Bethlehem. Tholuck explains the difficulty by considering the γάρ as explanatory of the following clause, and translating it by ‘namely.’ J. Chr. Hofmann explains the γάρ in a peculiar manner (Weissagung und Erfllung, p. 88). He supposes that Christ, in consequence of the Sanhedrim’s regarding both the Baptist and Himself with the same rancour as if they were one, was induced to avoid, for the present, notoriety and a crowd; and hence it was best that He should go to His own home, for a man whom God has called to a great service is nowhere so little esteemed as in his native place. But had it been possible for this motive to have determined Christ to go into Galilee, His plan, as the text directly shows, would have been altogether defeated. 3. ‘The town of Nazareth,’ says Robinson, ‘lies upon the western side of a narrow oblong basin, extending about from S.S.W. to N.N.E., perhaps twenty minutes in length by eight or ten in breadth’ (Biblical Researches, ii. 333). Hofmann remarks (Weissagung und Erfllung, ii. 65), that the radical meaning of the word ðÅöÆø, according to Isaiah 14:19; Isaiah 60:21, seems to be a or , and draws the inference, ‘Since Nazareth lies in a basin surrounded by hills, &c., it might have its name from this, since it was placed there like a sapling in a hole.’ Hengstenberg, in his , expresses the opinion that Nazareth was marked by this name as a weak sapling in contrast to a stately tree. ‘There was so much greater inducement to give this name to the place, because the symbol was before the eye in the vicinity. The limestone hills of Nazareth are covered with low bushes (see Burckhardt’s , ii. 583). Therefore the name might mean, the place of shrubs, or a shrub. Yet, on the other hand, what Schubert says of the vegetation of the vale of Nazareth (iii. 170) seems to contradict this. As to the locality where they were about to cast Jesus down, Robinson remarks: ‘From the convent (which is said to cover the spot where the Virgin lived) we went to the little Maronite Church. It stands quite in the south-west part of the town, under a precipice of the hill, which here breaks off in a perpendicular wall forty or fifty feet in height. We noticed several other similar precipices in the western hill around the village. Some one of these, perhaps that by the Maronite Church, may well have been the spot whither the Jews led Jesus that they might cast Him down headlong.… The monks have chosen for the scene of this event the Mount of the Precipitation, so called; a precipice overlooking the plain of Esdraelon nearly two miles south by east of Nazareth. Among all the legends that have been fastened on the Holy Land, I know of no one more clumsy than this, which presupposes that in a popular and momentary tumult they should have had the patience to lead off their victim to an hour’s distance, in order to do what there was an equal facility for doing near at hand’ (Researches, ii. 335). But it is not to be denied that the text of the Evangelist allows us to reckon upon a distance between the city and ‘the brow of the hill’ (ὀφρύς). ‘They thrust Him out of the city,’ it is said, and led Him or drove Him unto, &c. Then the question is, whether we are to read ἕως ὀφρύος or ἕως τῆς ὀφρύος? The manuscripts here differ. Lachmann reads ἕως τῆς. If, in this definite sense, some one commanding mountain height is sought for in Nazareth, a precipice near the city, appearing similar to many others, would not suffice. Then it may be asked, whether the vale of Nazareth is reckoned as belonging to the mountain on which the city was built, so that the whole mountain range is spoken of, or whether we are to translate ἐφʼ οὗ on which, so that that particular hill is meant which overhung the city. If we decide in favour of the first supposition, then that precipice overlooking the plain of Esdraelon belongs to the mountain range of Nazareth. Robinson has shown that the legend in question is of late date as a historical tradition, and of no value. It is another question, whether it has not been formed as a hypothesis, and as such is again to be considered? That ‘casting down headlong,’ which they intended to perpetrate, would at the same time represent the symbolical expulsion from their borders. Now, since He had come thither from Samaria, the men of Nazareth would point Him the way He came if they led Him in the direction of the rock of the legend. That precipice of the legend is, according to K. von Raumer (Palästina, 134), 80 feet to the first ledge, and to the bottom, 300 feet. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 92: 02.095. SECTION X ======================================================================== SECTION X the nobleman of capernaum (John 4:45-54) When Jesus, under these circumstances, after His expulsion from Nazareth, came to Upper Galilee, the Galileans received Him, having seen all that He did in Jerusalem at the feast. Especially Jesus met with a favourable reception at Cana, where the miracle by which that place had been distinguished was held in lively remembrance. In Cana He appears to have remained some time; long enough, at least, for His coming to be known at Capernaum, and for Him to be sought out by one who needed His help in that place. This person was a royal officer (τις βασιλικός), and therefore in the service of Herod Antipas.1 Anxiety for his son, who was dangerously ill, made him hasten into the hill country; and as soon as he came to Jesus, he besought Him urgently that He would come down to Capernaum in order to heal his son. There was need for the utmost expedition, for his son was at the point of death. But it was totally out of character with the vocation of Jesus, that He should be a bodily helper or physician for any one till a spiritual relation had been developed between the person needing help and Himself; least of all could He be at the bidding of persons of rank, who possibly might believe that they might venture to make use of Him, on an emergency, as a wonder-working physician, without declaring themselves as His adherents, and resigning themselves to His agency. In addition, this royal officer expected that the Lord would leave His fixed circle of operation to effect this cure. But what most of all trenched on the dignity of Jesus, was the importunity of an excitement which would have taken Him away as perforce, or, at least, wished Him to make a hurried journey to Capernaum. But Christ met all excitement of this sort with the greatest placidity and composure; He met it with His strong peace in God, which taught Him that God does not rule over men with confusion and excitement, and that hence man, even under the strongest movements of the soul, ought to preserve the clearness, repose, and dignity of his spirit. The waves of agony must break their force on the rock of his elevated rest in God. In this spirit He answers the father calling for help, in order to put him on the track of confidence: ‘If ye do not see signs and astounding miracles,1 ye will not believe!’ This reply has been thought a hard saying; and it has been said, that the man’s trustful coming to Jesus makes it appear unreasonable.2 But it is not borne in mind, that, in general, the dispositions of the persons to whom Jesus was about to render aid, required to be prepared for a genuine corresponding reception of it; and, indeed, often by a conversation which led them to self-knowledge by taking a humiliating turn. But here it was in the highest degree necessary to set the excited royal officer in a right spiritual relation to Jesus. Had Jesus not purified his request, and had He hastened immediately with him over the mountains, He would have made Himself more intelligible to modern criticism; but He would not then have appeared as the chief of men divinely commissioned, but rather as a submissive retainer of the nobleman. Therefore the sharp word of Jesus, which asks the man whether he belonged to the great multitude of those who sought in the divine covenant earthly help and demoniac terror, must test and stimulate his capability of faith. But now Jesus cannot separate his faith from his anxiety for his son, and feels that his persistent supplication is an expression of his faith. ‘Sir,’ he exclaims, ‘come down ere my child die!’ The father’s call for help evinces how close he stood in spirit to his suffering son, and how close at the same time to the helpful spirit of Christ. Now Jesus calls to him in His impressive manner: ‘Go thy way!’ Probably there was a pause here which for a moment sunk the man into the abyss, and by the pain of denial and hopelessness made him ripe for the highest exertion of miraculous power which he was to witness. In his own thoughts he must already have gone home unaccompanied by Jesus as a helper. ‘Go thy way!’ was said first of all; but then, in his dejection, the heavenly words were heard-‘Thy son liveth!’ And in the very same moment in which this life-ray of deliverance darted into the father’s heart, it darted to the heart of his distant son. But how near this father was to his son in his internal relation was known to Jesus alone. ‘And the man’-the Evangelist writes with an admiration which is felt in the text-‘the man believed the word that Jesus had spoken unto him, and he went his way.’ And as he was now going down, and therefore had not quite reached Capernaum, his servants met him, and brought him the news, Thy son liveth-he is restored! But now he wished not merely to indulge in the joy of the cure, but to be certain that he was indebted for it to Jesus.1 He therefore inquired of them the hour when his son began to amend; they answered, ‘Yesterday, at the seventh hour, the fever left him.’ Probably the nobleman had left Capernaum in the morning. If we assume that Cana el Jelil, situated in the north-east, was the place to which he travelled, we conceive that it must be late in the afternoon before his interview with Jesus came to a close. But then he could not reach Capernaum on the same day. It is also possible that he started at a different hour of the day. In this way, at all events, De Wette’s surprise that he should pass a night on the road is shown to be without reason. Probably his servants met him early in the morning of the following day. The hour which the servants reported to the father on his way home as the joyful crisis of his son’s illness, was the very hour in which the Lord had given him the assurance, ‘Thy son liveth.’ This circumstance made him certain that he had received the miraculous aid of Jesus, and the faith now developed in him was so powerful that it communicated itself to his whole house. And so it came to pass that Jesus a second time, immediately on His return from Judea to Galilee, performed a miracle.2 notes 1. On the relation of this narrative to the history of the miraculous aid which the centurion at Capernaum obtained, see the first volume of this work, p. 173. By a more exact computation of dates, it is proved that the centurion of Capernaum belongs to a quite different period. To this must be added the other points of difference (see Lcke on this passage, Commentar, i. 626). The leading difference is the great contrast between the mental states of the persons seeking help, especially between the spiritual physiognomies of the two figures, while the most dazzling likeness of the narratives for the juvenile eye of criticism, as we have already remarked, lies in the royal dress of the men. See Ebrard, p. 280.1 2. By an argument of Bauer’s, in which he has almost outdone himself in his own style of demonstration, the following result is obtained in his Essay, p. 83:-‘Because σημεῖα and τέρατα are related negatively to faith, they lead not to true internal faith, but to an outward false faith.’ One needs to be convinced with one’s own eyes of the desperate contrivance by which this kind of criticism in such a way prolongs its existence. It is, moreover, false when Bauer maintains that Christ uttered so harsh an expression respecting faith in σημεῖα and τέρατα: according to the text, He rather rebuked that unbelief which is first disposed to turn to faith with the requirement of miracles, and which on that account desires to see the σημεῖον as much as possible in the definite form of τέρας. And that He rebukes this unbelief, and yet performs a miracle in His own great, unostentatious manner, perhaps invisibly, contains evidently no contradiction. Bauer finds also that there is in the narrative (of which the Evangelist must have taken the historical materials from the synoptic Gospels) no contradiction, for here the ground-idea of miracle has indeed risen to the greatest height; but on this highest stage of its ascension, on which the miracle surpasses itself, it is at war with itself, it turns over into its opposite, it annuls itself. How far? Because here the performance of the miracle is believed before the miracle is seen, and without seeing it. But it is only necessary to be transported into the scene of any Gospel miracle at pleasure, in order to find that on every occasion faith in the word of Jesus precedes the miracle, and that the special miraculous operation is never seen. The question, What value at all could miracles have, if they already presupposed the same faith in the person of Jesus which they must first of all produce? we are willing to leave standing as a snow-mannikin of sophistry in our path, at the risk of those who are children in understanding being frightened at it. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 93: 02.096. SECTION XI ======================================================================== SECTION XI the residence of jesus at capernaum.-the man with an unclean spirit in the synagogue. peter’s wife’s mother. peter’s draught of fishes. the calling of the first apostles (Matthew 4:12-22; Matthew 8:14-17. Mark 1:14-38; Mark 3:9-12. Luke 4:31-43 (Luke 4:44); Luke 5:1-11) Jesus had already proclaimed in the synagogue at Nazareth the Gospel, the glad tidings, that now the time was fulfilled-the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven, was at hand. This announcement He repeated in the synagogues of Galilee, which He now visited one after another repeatedly, when He required of His hearers to recognize the importance and the demands of this great time, to renew their minds, and to receive the tidings of the new kingdom with the self-devoting heroism of faith. But He delivered this announcement to His people as a blessed certainty of His own spirit, filled with the kingdom of heaven. Never had such words been heard, such sounds of sorrow and of joy, of love, of peace, and of new life. All who heard Him were charmed, if they were tolerably free from prejudice, and extolled Him. Everywhere, at this beautiful time, He was greeted with an enthusiastic welcome, and the gloomy sign that He had been expelled from Nazareth was withdrawn into the background. The joy of greeting the Chief of the new age was in a peculiar degree granted to the city of Capernaum, which lay between the borders of Zebulon and Naphtali,1 on the western side of the Lake of Gennesareth, not far from the entrance of the Jordan into the lake, and formed a flourishing station on the line of traffic between Damascus and the Mediterranean Sea. In this city Jesus took up His abode, in the sense of making it the centre of His excursions and journeys. Hence it is distinguished by the Evangelists as ‘His own city’ (Mark 9:1). Here He seems generally to have resided under Peter’s roof. He had no house of His own.2 Probably His own family at a later period followed Him in this change of residence. The distinction which was by this event conferred on Capernaum reminded the Evangelist Matthew of the prophetic words of Isaiah (Isaiah 9:1-2): ‘The way of the sea beyond Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles; the people which sat in darkness saw a great light, and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up.’3 Matthew with his profound insight may possibly oblige those persons to acknowledge the Messianic import of the passages quoted by him, who have no taste for his more delicate apprehension of the ‘fulfilment’ of the Old Testament references in the New Testament. That district was the most despised in the Jewish land-far from the visible residence of the theocracy, in contact with the Gentiles and mingled with Gentiles-it now became the theatre of the revelation of the glory of the Lord. Jesus appears to have spent about a week in Cana and the neighbourhood after He had been expelled from Nazareth. There He made His last appearance on a Sabbath. Here we find Him first of all, according to Luke, in a synagogue. Everywhere His word operated powerfully; so it was here. He taught in the might of the full truth of the divine word; not like the scribes, with their lifeless formulas and phraseology. His individual word was identical with the essential power of the Word,-an emanation of the Logos, and therefore an act of original freshness, creative, transforming, wonder-working. As He was acting with this power in the synagogue at Capernaum, suddenly an extraordinary event occurred. A man in the assembly cried aloud, ‘Let us alone! what have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth? Thou art come to destroy us; I know Thee who Thou art, the Holy One of God!’ This raving man was known: he was mastered by the agency of an impure demon; and since his consciousness was identified with that of the demon, he felt in the holy agency of Jesus, with the most vivid repulsion, an attack on his demoniacal condition, and therefore, as he now felt himself, an attack on his very existence. The Saviour appeared to him as a destroyer. But Jesus had compassion on the maniac. He addressed him imperatively with the word of power, ‘Hold thy peace and come out of him!’ This convulsed the poor man; he fell down in the midst of the assembly; loud shrill tones escaped from him; but it was the final paroxysm. The demoniacal power let him go; and the last frightful scene, in which the demon seemed ready to destroy him, inflicted no injury upon him. Universal astonishment seized the spectators. The synagogue was broken up; the service was abruptly closed in the most animated expressions of praise. They said one to another, and the question runs round, What is this? Whence has He this word of power, this new doctrine, that with authority He commands the unclean spirits, and they obey Him? The fame of this miracle spread through all Galilee. From the synagogue, His disciples-most probably the four, Simon, Andrew, James, and John-accompanied Him to the house which belonged to Simon and Andrew (Mark 1:29). Simon was already married, as we learn from this history; and it is a remarkable fact, that we are distinctly informed respecting this chief of the apostles, that his married state continued during his apostolic ministry (1 Corinthians 9:5). Peter’s mother-in-law lay ill in bed of ‘a great fever.’1 From this circumstance we infer that Jesus now for the first time entered into Simon’s house-not earlier, or He would have cured her. But they inform Him at once of her illness. He went in, stood over her, and uttered the curative, menacing words which thrilled through her life, as if He would have rebuked an evil demon in the fever (ἐðåôìçóå פῷ πυρετῷ, Luke 4:39). He took her by the hand, and she rose up, and was so free from fever, so well, that she could at once minister to Him as her guest. The day was a festival for Simon’s house. The family felt that there was not a house in Capernaum so highly favoured and honoured as their own, and she who was restored to health at once proceeded to prepare a festive entertainment for the holy guests who had brought such a blessing on herself and the family. On that day Capernaum was in a state of wonderful excitement. When the evening came, and the sun was setting,1 they brought many sick and demoniac persons to Jesus, sufferers, in short, of whatever kind; so that it seemed as if, in the throng of sufferers, and those who accompanied or carried them, or those who were spectators, the whole city was gathered before the door (Mark 1:33). Jesus healed the sick one after another, since He laid His hands on every one of them. But many exciting scenes occurred among the demoniacs whom He cured. They agreed in a psychical intensifying of their power of foreboding, in which the universally spread expectation that Jesus was the Messiah became a certainty; and so, amidst the furious paroxysms that attended their restoration, they cried out and addressed Him as the Son of God. But the Lord would not win the acknowledgment of His people by such signs and witnesses. He who only by compulsion, or rather out of condescension to the weakness of the Jews, appealed to the testimony of John,2 could not support His cause on the testimonies of so morbid and spectral and bedimmed a sphere of life. He threatened them, and would not allow them to speak. On that evening the distresses of the city of Capernaum weighed Him down like a heavy burden. In the representation of this extraordinary scene, the Evangelist Matthew is rightly reminded of the words of Isaiah, ‘Himself took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses’ (Isaiah 53:4-5).3 A great day of festivity and of labour had thus been passed by the Lord,1-a long day of victory in His conflict with the kingdom of sin and death; and His life was put in the greatest commotion. With such emotions of triumph He gladly hastened into solitude; for it was not beneficial to the people to continue in a state of such violent excitement; and for Himself, it was a necessity to refresh Himself in solitude, deep in the heaven of prayer, in communion with His Father. So the Spirit impelled Him early the next morning, when the day had scarcely dawned (πρωῒ, ἔννυον כבם, Mark 1:35; γενομένης δὲ ἡμñáò, Luke 4:42), to retire into a desert place. But with the earliest morning the throng of persons seeking for help and healing again assembled before Simon’s house. Jesus was away, but Simon was pressed, and had to seek Him out. In this errand, it seems, not only the household and the disciples of Jesus, but also persons belonging to the crowd, joined him; and when they found Jesus, the disciples declared to Him that He was anxiously sought by all, while the rest entreated Him that He would not leave the city. Thus the citizens at Capernaum acted the opposite part to the men of Nazareth. The latter had thrust Him out; the former wished to detain Him, and, if possible, to confine Him to a constant residence with them. They probably made very urgent appeals, but Jesus would not be fettered by them. ‘I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also,’ He declared, ‘for therefore am I sent;’ and turning to the disciples, He said, ‘Let us go into the next towns.’ But before He took His departure, which the Evangelists have already mentioned in general (Mark 1:39; Luke 4:44), Jesus fulfilled the wish of those who had sought Him out, in order once more to grant the blessing of His presence to the expectant multitude. The Lord directed His course to the sea-shore, probably in order to secure freedom to His movements. Then the people crowded round Him greatly, in their longing to hear the word of God from His lips (Luke 5:1). He was still surrounded by the first most moveable and susceptible hearers; and, as suited such an audience, He preached first of all in the most general sense the Gospel of the coming of the kingdom of God, of the beginning of the great jubilee, and exhorted the people to a true change of mind,2 the fundamental condition of entrance into His kingdom. But His labours in teaching were interrupted by the over-pressure of those who were themselves afflicted with diseases, or who carried the sick. The Evangelist Mark gives us a very graphic representation of this over-pressure in a passage which doubtless belongs to this period (Mark 3:9-12). Since the sufferers in the crowd had an interest in being close to the Lord, in order to make known their sufferings, or secretly to touch Him, so an involuntary pressing movement of the whole circle of living beings that surrounded Him, towards Him as the centre, took place; and in this way His discourse was subject to perpetual interruptions by the multitude. Hence the Lord was obliged to restore the equipoise between His working of miracles and His teaching, and to secure the delivery of His discourse, by taking refuge on the water. As the throng was constantly increasing, and with it that popular excitement was created which He always shunned, because it ever tended to a chiliastic vertigo, He looked out for the two ships of His friends, which lay there on the shore. But as soon as they perceived that He wished to get into a vessel with them, they bethought themselves that they might again follow their vocation as fishermen to which they originally belonged: they quickly cleaned their nets in order to cast them into the sea. The Evangelists have designedly brought forward this circumstance. We see how these disciples are still zealously occupied with their earthly calling; how they did not yet imagine that soon they must decidedly give it up, in order to devote themselves exclusively to the service of Jesus. But Jesus desired Simon, into whose vessel He had entered, to thrust out a little from the shore, that He might be at a short distance from the land. And now He turned again to the people, who were detained on the shore by His spiritual power, as He was detained by the intense longing of the people after His word. The expectation of the fishermen therefore, who already had taken their nets in hand, is frustrated by this direction of Christ’s spirit, in a similar manner as at Jacob’s well, when ‘they prayed Him, saying, Master, eat.’ Seated in the ship, the Lord speaks once more to His hearers, before He leaves them, of the great kingdom of salvation which had begun. In this style of preaching we feel the entire living freshness of a heart overflowing with compassionate love to men. But Jesus also does justice to His disciples; they must provide for their families. He therefore commands Peter to launch out into the deep, and to let down his net for a draught. The disciple had just then no great expectations of success. ‘Master,’ he exclaims, ‘we have toiled all the night and have taken nothing; but at Thy word I will let down the net.’ We perceive here a secret trouble in the disciple. After a beautiful day for the city of Capernaum, he had passed an unfortunate night. His desire to improve the toil of the night for the concerns of his family was defeated, and defeated when the glory of the preceding day had promised a richer success than usual. Yet now, at the encouraging words of Christ his spirits revive. So he throws out the net with confidence, and soon it swarms with fish; it threatens to break when they would draw it back again. They beckon to their partners in the other ship, probably that of James and John, and to their servants (ver. 10); and these come and help them to make sure of their draught. And so abundant is the draught that the two ships are filled with it, so that they began to sink. At this transaction Peter is overpowered, and he falls on his knees before Jesus, exclaiming, ‘Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!’ This draught had filled him and all his companions with astonishment and affright. Peter understands fishing better than the theological critic who cannot understand the reason of his excitement.1 He sees something greater in this event than in the miraculous cures of which he had been previously a witness. For it allows him to look all at once from the land of toil and trouble through wide-opened gates into the paradise of a perfect superabundance. How rich is he suddenly, and how would it be if Jesus remained near him with this assistance! This thought thrills him; but while it thrills him, he is in dread, and feels most keenly that such miraculous success cannot thrive with him.2 This is expressed in his petition; the most glorious feeling in the most unsuitable words: ‘Lord! depart from me!’ The divine glory of Christ so deeply humbles him, that the whole feeling of his sinfulness was aroused in him; and his prosperity in temporal things so overwhelmed and ashamed him, that he was alarmed at the thought of its constant enjoyment. Christ grants the extraordinary petition, not according to the letter but the spirit of it. He had wished to provide for the families of His friends richly for a longer time, for they were now to draw with Him. ‘Fear not,’ was the consoling word; ‘from henceforth thou shalt catch men.’ Thus, then, they still wash and mend their nets. As soon as it is said, Aboard! they thought only of the fishing, and threw their nets into the sea. Henceforth they must throw their net into humanity. The friends now know that they can altogether trust their Lord with their temporal and earthly wants. They feel that they and theirs are safely provided for in His service. And how great is His promise, that they should draw men in such miraculous draughts out of the sea of the world for the kingdom of God, as they had now made a miraculous draught in their old calling of fishermen! A greater calling He could not give them. They recognise it as such; and forthwith they are resolved; they bring their ships to land, forsake all, and follow Him. It would probably make a great sensation in Capernaum, when these young men so suddenly gave up their employment, to which they seemed to be so entirely devoted, though it was still not forbidden them occasionally to resume their old avocation. It was known how painful such a sacrifice was to an Israelite. It was known that these men had just been mending their nets. And now they suddenly leave everything, in order to go with Jesus through the land. The astonishment at the power of Jesus which effected this change, is reflected in the narrative of the calling of the four first apostolic disciples, as we find it in Matthew and Mark. Especially might Matthew, although probably already moved by the appearance of Jesus, be struck even then with the marvellousness of this total change of life, since a less noble calling, that of a publican, fettered himself. Thus in him and others this history, in all its peculiarity, has been distinctly stamped for evangelical tradition as a peculiar history. It is as if Jesus had now for the first time found those men on the beach, and as if one word from Him sufficed, with an almighty irresistible power, to make them become His followers. And, in truth, this history presents in a new light the relation of Jesus to these disciples, in the first place, as to their giving up their old calling, and next, as they were now called by Christ to become changed into the first fishers of men, or apostles. notes 1. That the history narrated in Luke 5:1, &c., is identical with that reported in Matthew 4:18, &c., and in Mark 1:16, Ebrard proves (p. 234) briefly and conclusively by the simple remark, that in both narratives the subject-matter is, how Jesus induced these disciples to give up their vocation as fishermen, and how they could not give up a second time their employment, after they had already given it up. The same theologian has proved (p. 236) in a masterly manner, that the history narrated in John 1:41, &c., does not exclude the calling of the four disciples at the sea-side. 2. As to the situation of Capernaum, see Tholuck, Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount, p. 54. Robinson combines the various notices of the Evangelists on the landing-place of the Lord, on that return, when He walked on the sea (Matthew 14:34; Mark 6:45; Mark 6:53; John 6:17), and arrives at the conclusion that Capernaum was situated in a tract on the western coast of the lake, called the land of Gennesareth, and that Bethsaida, in the vicinity of Capernaum, was probably in the same tract. This district, from which the lake must naturally have taken its name, Robinson finds, according to Josephus, De Bello Jud. iii. 10, § 8, and other notices in the New Testament and the Talmud, situated in a fertile plain extending along the shore, from el-Mejdel on the south, to Khân Minyeh on the north (Biblical Researches) ii. 404). According to Josephus, this district was well watered, particularly by a fountain called by the inhabitants Capharnaum. ‘Josephus here mentions no town of this name,’ says Robinson, ‘but the conclusion is irresistible, that the name as applied to the fountain could have come only from the town, which of course must have been situated at no great distance.’ Capernaum, ëôø ðçåí, means, as Winer remarks, according to Hesychius, Origen, and Jerome, consolationis, village of consolation; perhaps better, ’s village, but not village, as has been also conjectured. In relation to the mental and religious character of Capernaum, a remark of Von Ammon may here be quoted, that the place was inhabited by Jews and Gentiles, and in Jewish writings is noted as the residence of free-thinkers and heretics. It would have been a striking contrast, if at that time Tiberias in the esteem of the Jews had been regarded as a peculiarly holy place, as was the case after the destruction of Jerusalem. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 94: 02.097. SECTION XII ======================================================================== SECTION XII the first journey of jesus from capernaum through galilee. the sermons on the mount. the healing of the leper (Matthew 4:23-8:4; Mark 1:31-45; Mark 3:12-13; Luke 5:12-16; Luke 6:12-49) With His four companions, Jesus travelled from Capernaum through Galilee, hastening from place to place, from one synagogue to another. Everywhere He proclaimed the glad tidings that the kingdom of God had commenced: and He proved the great announcement by His deeds; for He healed the sick, and removed every infirmity and disorder of the people which met Him in His progress. On the bright path of the Prince of Life, every form of suffering which encountered Him vanished like a dissolving view. He became highly celebrated. His fame spread far and wide through all Syria at this time, in the first outburst of joy on account of the great salvation. A general impulse was diffused abroad, to bring the sick to Jesus, as if everything diseased had been tracked and hunted out for the purpose. But especially He healed ‘many that were possessed, and those which were lunatic, and those which had the palsy.’ But He had not merely to do with crowds streaming to and fro, but many groups of travellers followed Him, His Galilean adherents especially, but also those who were well affected towards Him in Decapolis, in Jerusalem, and Judea generally, as well as Perea. The Evangelists have not given us many particulars of this journey, but only three facts of importance: the sermon on the Mount, the sermon on the mountain-plain, and the healing of a leper. As to the two sermons, it is in the first place doubtful whether they are to be distinguished from one another, or identical, and only differing in the manner of being reported: in the former case, whether they belong to the same period of Christ’s ministry or not; and lastly, for what reason, if they belong to one time, they belong to this place according to Matthew, and not to the beginning of the summer of the year 782, in which Luke seems to place them. In our times the two discourses have been generally considered as identical, that is, as two different evangelical reports of one and the same discourse of Jesus;1 so that, by some Matthew’s report,2 by others that of Luke,3 has been held as the least authentic; by a third class, no great authenticity has been ascribed to either.4 It certainly cannot be denied that the similarity of the two discourses in the leading thoughts is so great, that we may be induced to believe that they are to be regarded as the same discourse, only differently reported. Truly the fundamental thought of both is the same: the representation of the exaltation of the depressed and the humble, and the depression of those who are falsely exalted, the self-exalted,-which begins with the year of jubilee. The similarity appears most strikingly as to form in the beatitudes. But in all of them the differences are so great, that they cannot possibly be set to the account of the Evangelists, unless the right can be established generally to ascribe to them a faded, ‘washy’ (verwaschene) representation of the Lord’s evangelical ministry. The number of the beatitudes is not the same in the two discourses, and the construction of single sentences is different. The Evangelist Luke presents a contrast to the beatitudes in a parallel series of woes. The contrast is, indeed, found in Matthew as to the substance, in the delineation of pharisaical righteousness and its consequences, but the form in Luke is totally different. Add to this the difference of the locality and of the auditory which the Evangelists state for each discourse. According to the Evangelist Matthew, Jesus delivered His discourse seated on the top of a mountain; according to Luke, He came to a level place on the side of a mountain in order to preach to the people. There, He, at the sight of the multitude of people, withdrew to the circle of His disciples;1 here, He came down with His disciples from the top of the mountain, and places Himself in the midst of the multitude, in order to speak to them. Thus, therefore, we have evidently two different addresses or discourses, which are formed of the same materials, before us; and before we turn to the hypothesis of ‘faded representations,’ we have first of all to try our good fortune on the method of estimating the most living peculiarities of the Gospels. But here the two discourses immediately appear to us as highly characteristic. The Sermon on the Mount (properly so called) manifests throughout the character of a discourse such as Christ would not deliver to a promiscuous audience. This remark applies particularly to the delineation of the Pharisees and scribes and their righteousness, and to the description of the striking contrast between His doctrine and theirs. He could not have yet spoken in this manner to the Jewish people in general, without endangering His work to the utmost by a disregard of consequences. And if in this discourse we also admit that the Evangelist might give some particular passages in a different connection than they stood in the original, and have inserted some others, yet the discourse, in its whole structure, has too original and harmonious a character for us to ascribe it in essentials to the Evangelist.2 The Sermon on the Mount appears to us, consequently, as a discourse of Christ which has throughout an esoteric, confidential character. But in this character it corresponds entirely to the account of the Evangelist repecting its origin, according to which the Lord delivered it to His disciples in the mountain solitude, withdrawn from the people; though the Evangelist, by the inexact observation at the close, that the people were ‘astonished at His teaching,’ which is only to be referred to the second mountain discourse of Christ, has in some measure weakened that more exact statement. In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord exhibited to His confidential disciples the leading doctrines and characteristics of His kingdom, in opposition to the doctrine and religion of its opponents. But by the disciples we need not necessarily understand only the four already distinctly called, but rather the circle of His confidential adherents generally. Even a Matthew might properly find himself among them, though his calling to the apostleship did not take place till a later period. While this discourse has a marked esoteric character, on the contrary the discourse in Luke is throughout popular in its concrete vivacity, symbolic phraseology, and conciseness; it has altogether an exoteric character, and so it exactly corresponds to the connection which the Evangelist Luke has given to it. Christ delivers this discourse standing among the multitude, though His eye rests with a blessing on His disciples, who form the choicest part of the audience. If we now propose the question, in what relation the two discourses stand to one another as to the time of their delivery, from various indications we arrive at the conclusion, that the discourse to the people (Volkspredigt) was delivered immediately after that to the disciples (Gemeindepredigt). First of all, in reference to the order of time, we may be guided by the history of the centurion at Capernaum. As this in Matthew follows close upon the discourse to the disciples, so in Luke it follows close upon the discourse to the people. Thus the two discourses are brought very near one another; they occur within the same time of one journey of Jesus through Galilee. Let us now add to this, that a multitude of people stand waiting below the mountain while Jesus delivers His first sermon to His disciples, and that when He has come down from the mountain with His disciples, He delivers the latter sermon to the people; and if we thus account for the material resemblance of the two discourses, we gain in this way a perspicuous, comprehensive view of the whole question. We see how Christ, first of all, in the mountain solitude initiates His confidential disciples into the mysteries of His kingdom, and then, on His return to the people, propounds the same doctrine in its leading features, but in a form more suited to the popular apprehension.1 We must now examine to which of the Evangelists the preference is to be given in reference to determining the time. In this respect Matthew furnishes important elements for determining the question. First of all, we take into account that the longer discourse so shortly preceded his own calling. It is not at all probable that he would have placed the great events which occurred so close to that calling in a chronologically false position. Add to this, the contents of the second discourse presuppose a circle of hearers for the most part wholly susceptible; a larger than which Jesus rarely had in His second official summer. But the most significant circumstance is, that the contents of the discourse in both forms very distinctly refer back to the leading thoughts of the first announcement of salvation made by Jesus, namely, to the thought that the great, real jubilee year of God had commenced. If we would thoroughly apprehend the import of the twofold discourse, we must set out from its relation to the jubilee year in the legislation of the Old Covenant.1 The law speaks respecting the year of jubilee as a deeply typical determination of the eternal ideal divine law which is to overrule the historical relations of earthly social rights, including those of person and property. In it is plainly reflected the correct relation of God’s proprietorship and that of the holy national community, founded and invested by God, to the proprietorship of the individual, and the personal right of the individual in contrast to the relations or duties of servitude. The year of jubilee was the Sabbath of the holy community; hence it was founded on the sabbatical year which brought about a great Sabbath2 of the Holy Land, which also was for the advantage of the community. The land was to be once every seven years free from the discipline and coercion of cultivation; it was not, as commonly, to be sown and cleared by reaping, but to produce freely whatever it carried in its bosom as its own genius pleased. It was to be quite as free from the checks on its own luxuriance which the self-interest of the possessor might commonly impose, and to pour forth its abundance as a pure divine property, and be for the common benefit of all, masters and servants, Jews and strangers, man and beast. Every seven years, therefore, the splendour of a theocratic Arcadia, of a glorified paradisaical world, was to shine forth in the Holy Land. But by this rest (or Sabbath) the principle was expressed, that the ground and soil of the earth must ever be a middle property between common property and private possession; that it could never become absolute common property, Church, State, or communal property, but also never absolute private property. So, then, in the seventh year the claim of the community, and especially of the poor in it, also of foreigners, and even of the beasts within their range, to the free abundance of the land, was celebrated. But as nature in seven years completed its cycle through toil to rest, so the holy national community completed its cycle in seven times seven years. For society is nature multiplied by itself-nature elaborating, spiritualizing itself. The fiftieth year (not the nine-and-fortieth) must therefore be the sabbatical year of the congregation of Jehovah, the year of jubilee, or trumpet-year. Its beginning was to be signalized by the great feast of atonement; therefore, from the remission of debt before God must proceed the remission of debts in society. The opening of this great festival was to be announced by trumpets; and from this custom its name is explained.1 In this year, every inheritance which an Israelite had sold from necessity reverted again to him, and upon this reversion the purchase-money was to be calculated.2 Also, the servitude into which the Israelite, by his poverty, had been subjected to his brother, a wealthier Israelite, was to cease with this year;3 it could never amount to slavery. Thus with the year of jubilee the bondsman became free, and he who had lost his inheritance regained it. The ideal fundamental relations of the holy nation, in which the eternal kingdom of God was reflected, sprang out of the complications and privations of a severe reality, and the community rested from its own hardships as the holy congregation of the rich and equally portioned heirs and heiresses of Jehovah.4 Thus the Divine Spirit in Israel had withdrawn the three most essential goods of life from the will, the absolute possession of the individual, as well as the right of prescription and perpetual exchange-the produce of the field, the holy soil of the land, and the personal freedom of the individual. These goods were reserved for the Lord, and hence must always revert to the holy congregation of God. From the right of goods, a twofold right of eternal possession was distinguished, both downwards and upwards. There was, upwards, an eternal divine possession, or possession of the holy community, which could not become the possession of individuals. To this belonged the fields of the Levites (Leviticus 25:34). But there was also, downwards, a perpetual private possession, which was not included in the great reversion of the year of jubilee. To this, without doubt, belonged especially money1 and moveable goods, besides the dwelling-house in an unwalled town, if it was not redeemed within the first year after the sale. Yet from this the houses in the cities of the Levites were excepted. They could be sold like the landed property of other Israelites, but must revert like that, since they were the landed property of the Levitical individual (Leviticus 25:29). Further, the heathen who had become the bondsman of a Jew was regarded as private property; he might be held in perpetual slavery. Moveable goods, wealth, are incorporated with the individual; they belong to his personal dignity. But this slave, as a heathen in the typical ritual, had not yet attained the enjoyment of personal dignity; yet he was not treated as a thing, as among the heathen, but as a man theocratically under age.2 Lastly, as to the unwalled house in a city, it was separated by the walls from the fields of the country (Leviticus 25:30-31), and the individuality was measured by this boundary. The unenclosed house belonged, with the fields, to the divine community and to Jehovah; the house in a walled city fell to the individual, and belonged again, like himself, to the Lord. In these fundamental distinctions of an ideal right of property, are underlaid, without doubt, the ideas of the eternal right of the kingdom of God. They form the typical ground-plan of the rights and regulations of the Christian social age, the realization of the kingdom of heaven upon earth.3 They stood so high above the reality, that they could not easily in Israel become a fixed civil usage. But they answered this valuable purpose, that the people, when better disposed, could always use them as a directory. Moses foresaw that the people would not grant the land its Sabbath, and foretold that in the future desolations the land would obtain its rights, and enjoy its Sabbaths (Leviticus 26:34-35). And his prediction was fulfilled first of all, according to 2 Chronicles 36:21, in the misconduct of the people before the Babylonish captivity, and in the punishment which followed. In the last days before that catastrophe, the people, it is true, made an attempt to realize the theocratic rights of persons, but in vain (Jeremiah 34:1-22) But in proportion as the actual state of things contravened the law, the prophets perceived that the year of jubilee must first of all be exhibited in its spiritual relations, before it could be realized in the earthly ones. They saw in spirit that Jehovah Himself must establish, and would establish, a great year of jubilee,-that He Himself, as the great creditor, must proclaim remission for His debtors, and release His captives, and thus would establish the time of a great general restoration of the children of God. Thus arose the visions of the most delightful longing, hope, and promise, in which the age of the Messiah is depicted as the great jubilee of Jehovah, in which the Messiah appears as the messenger of God who sounds the trumpet of the jubilee; as in the passage of Isaiah (Isaiah 61:1-2) which the Lord read and expounded in the synagogue at Nazareth. Just as He there announced the kingdom of heaven as the beginning of the spiritual and everlasting jubilee, so He appears to have preached the kingdom of heaven variously in this figurative representation, which was admirably suited to move the Israelites in their inmost souls, and was, indeed, from the first an ideal of the new heavenly age. This is testified by the last words of the message of Jesus to John-‘the poor have the Gospel preached to them.’1 Just so, this equalizing which is to bring the kingdom of God as a year of jubilee for both poor and rich of the old world, is a fundamental thought in the two discourses of the blessedness of the poor in the new world. On the first great journey of Jesus through Galilee, not only the groups of His adherents in a narrower sense increased, but also the multitude of sufferers, and began to press upon Him more and more. When He saw the crowds thus increasing, He felt Himself obliged to withdraw from their excessive intrusion, since He never would expose the holy action of His life to being overpowered by a host of carnal proselytes and their mean interests. He went therefore to the mountain, the Evangelists narrate here in the same sense as John on another occasion; the mountain (τὸ ὄρος), namely, in distinction from the high plains or terraces on which the people stayed.2 He withdrew into the mountain solitude exactly overhanging the encampment of the people.3 This we gather very distinctly from the representation of Luke (Luke 6:17).4 But into that loneliness He took only His confidential disciples with Him: ‘whom He would’ (Mark 3:14). It is very possible that not only the later twelve apostles formed this circle, but that also many others of His more confidential disciples surrounded Him. On that account Mark and Luke might transfer to this place the more distinct separation of the Twelve, which took place somewhat later in their being actually sent out, especially since these Evangelists do not particularly report that later sending. At all events, it was a confidential circle that surrounded the Lord, as is indicated by the significant and historically certain fact, that He stayed and sat down sociably in their midst. On the other hand, surrounded by thousands of people, He could not well preach to them sitting. ‘And He opened His mouth,’ says the Evangelist. He felt the world-historical importance of this moment, in which Christianity was first expressed in its grand outlines by Christ, and that in contrast to Judaism. It was the moment of breaking open the greatest seal of the world, the moment of the revelation of a new religion, of a religion that transcended Judaism. He opened His mouth and revealed the mystery of this new religion, the Christian in a circle of persons animated with the strongest attachment to Judaism.1 This discourse of Christ is called the Sermon on the Mount in a literal sense, but it may be likewise so called in a symbolical sense. Christ stands on the summit of spiritual human life; His soul is filled with the beatitudes of His holy and perfected divine-human life. From this elevation He addresses poor man in error and confusion, in the depths of an unhappy life, in order to call him up, to lead him, to draw him to His own stand-point; for His word is not only the word of light, but also of power. We may call this discourse the Summit-sermon in order to distinguish it from the following, which was delivered on an elevated plain or lower mountain-terrace, and hence may be designated the Plateau-sermon. We may contemplate the Summit-sermon as an organic unity which unfolds two principal parts in a most significant contrast, and closes with a third practical part. If we look at it as a unity, the doctrine of Christ appears to us in it in its main outlines, or, more definitely, the representation of the righteousness of Christ as it is unfolded in His disciples, or as the announcement of the spiritual jubilee year, as it consists in rectifying inequalities in the kingdom of God. If we consider it in its two chief component parts, it exhibits the contrariety of the doctrine of Christ to the doctrine of the scribes and Pharisees, or, more definitely, the true righteousness of His disciples in opposition to the false righteousness of His adversaries; or also, the contrasted equalizing which is brought by Christ’s jubilee-the exaltation of the poor, and the humiliation of the rich. If, lastly, we fix our attention on the threefold division of the discourse,-the first part depicts the gradual progression of Christian righteous men, how it rises from the depths of poverty of spirit to the summit of blessedness in the vision of God (Matthew 5:1-19); the second part depicts the descent of the pharisaically righteous, how they begin their way of error with deforming the law, and end it by giving that which is holy to the dogs and casting pearls before swine, and in return are torn in pieces by them (Matthew 5:20; Matthew 7:6); the third part gives directions how to avoid the false way down-hill, and to choose the true way up-hill,-it announces, therefore, the true method of the spiritual life. In this threefold division, those distinctions are shown to us, according to which the great equalization is effected which the year of jubilee brings. Especially, therefore, is this discourse to be considered in its unity. We see here the beginning of the New Testament law of life breaking forth from the husk of the Old Testament law. For only by the specially strict law of Jehovah in a narrower sense could be appointed poverty of spirit and the disposition of divine mourning connected with it be produced-the longing after righteousness. We see, then, how in this new legally progressive unfolding the old law celebrates its glorification, since here all its literal appointments are spiritually fulfilled. Then the Lord shows how this new life completely loosens itself from the withered husk of pharisaical maxims by which it was covered, and we are taught the element of Christian practice (Askese), of spiritual good conduct, in which this fruit ripens into the complete purity and blessedness of the inner life. Therefore the Sermon on the Mount in its unity is an organic representation of the appointed forms of life according to Christianity. In this relation it has, not without reason, been compared with the giving of the law on Sinai. As the first comprehensive announcement of the Gospel, it forms the most expressive contrast to the announcement of the law from Sinai. There, the prophet of the Old Covenant received the revelation from the hand of Jehovah by the mediation of angels, therefore with feelings which elevated his life far above the ordinary state; here, the Prophet of the New Covenant utters the revelations of God from the depths of His own innermost life, from the matured moments of His most habitual and yet highest spiritual condition. There, a law is announced which confronts the people with threatenings on tables of stone-accompanied by thunder and lightning, the phenomena of Omnipotence which stands in harmony with the righteousness of God, and therefore accompanied by the signs of armed, threatening, and warning righteousness. Here, a law utters its voice, which begins to write the power of the Spirit of Christ in the hearts of men, and whose vivifying power makes itself known in the promises of salvation by which it is accompanied. And while there, Moses shattered the first tables of the law in displeasure at the idolatry of the people, and then brings a second, perfectly similar, stern repetition of the law; so here, Jesus brings the first form of the Sermon on the Mount, which is only comprehensible by His initiated disciples, in a second concrete and more comprehensible form, out of tender regard to the weakness of the people. But His law remains in all its features a gospel, as His Gospel preserves in all fulness the legal precision. This, therefore, is the unity of the Sermon on the Mount; it is the Gospel of the law, or the law of the Gospel. The origin of this law is a human heart, the holy heart of the Lord; the tables of this law are human hearts, the susceptible hearts of believers; all its written characters are life-forms of the real world. If we look at the Sermon on the Mount according to the antagonism which animates it, its peculiar theme lies evidently in the twentieth verse. The righteousness of the disciples of Jesus is delineated in opposition to the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees. The one rise upwards as copartners of the shame and glory of Christ, till they stand near Him in the light of glorification; the others descend into the depths of grossness, till they are trampled under foot by the dogs and swine of the spiritual world. The close of the discourse shows how men have to walk in one way, and to avoid the other. If we let this closing word come forth in its entire significance along with the preceding words, the division of the three parts is plainly shown, according to which we wish to consider the discourse in particulars. The beatitudes form the chief materials of the first part. These beatitudes are certainly nine, if we number them mechanically; but if we keep in view the main point, the successive steps, it will be seen that the old reckoning of seven beatitudes is perfectly well founded. While the beatitudes, as far as the seventh, exhibit a definite succession of steps in the Christian life, the eighth relates to the pursuit of the Christian after righteousness in general, and to his holy sufferings arising from it in the world, as both begin when he takes the first step in the inner life. He must suffer for righteousness’ sake on all the stages of his development; and this is a blessed suffering. But that he suffers for righteousness’ sake is identical with suffering for Christ’s sake, which is extolled in the ninth beatitude. Here only the life which at first was depicted in its general spiritual form, appears in its concrete Christian distinctness and beauty, and it is manifest that Christ is the historical, perfected life-principle of Christian righteousness, and of its unfolding through all its stages. As to what regards the relation of this delineation of the inner life, we have to contemplate it in accordance with its evangelical character, not as an outward legal prescription of the Lord respecting the conduct of His disciples. Rather His lawgiving is a creative act. When He describes the righteous, He calls them into life by His word; a new world is drawn forth, not from the gloomy fermentation of the elements, but from the night of internal judgments and divine sorrow. This world exists upon His word. We see, therefore, the holy mount surrounded by steps, and all the steps covered by souls rising from the depths to the heights. They are, these ‘poor in spirit,’ these ‘mourners;’ they live, and that in the spirit. In their unfolding we witness the noiseless formation of the new heavens in the quiet recesses of the hidden world of the affections, and even in the abysses of an unutterable sorrow, by which the Christian life makes its way through the opposition of the old world life. Life in the spirit is the fundamental character of all Christians. The Christian begins his Christian existence with feeling himself poverty-struck in spirit: he is conscious of an infinite want in his spirit, with an equally powerful craving after satisfaction. But he feels this want so strongly in the spirit, because he lives in the spirit. Without life in the spirit there is no Christianity whatever; no theological science, no moral culture, no church ceremonial, can supply the place of life in the spirit. In spiritual life, that is, in that life in which the spirit of man comes in contact and is united with the Spirit of God, the various stages of righteousness and blessedness are all identical. It lies in the nature of the spirit that it exhibit itself in the whole circumference of its constituent elements. Therefore the poor in spirit on the first stage must also be in the germ a peacemaker; and in the blessed peacemaker of the seventh stage there is still poverty in spirit in its essential contents, though transformed into a most blessed humility. Nevertheless, the succession of stages is a necessary, organic, and perfectly definite succession. Every step has its own character, controlling and determining the whole inner life, and the Christian in his inner life must experience all these phases of his spirit’s constitution to verify their eternal value, and to exhibit them on the summit of his development in perfect unity. It is the foundation of an organically determined development, that man begins his new life in the spirit in the feeling of his woeful destitution of all the highest goods of the spirit. This poverty embraces the whole new life of the spirit as a germ, and breaks forth in a twofold direction in polar unfolding. In poverty of spirit, man comes to himself, and now he necessarily comprehends in his inmost soul his most intimate relation to God. Then the root of his new life is formed in pure, holy sorrow, which in its nature is a divine sorrow, a mourning on account of separation from God, a pining after home. But in this divine sorrow his relation to other men becomes a new one; the old fierceness and hardness of his natural egoism is stripped off, and the stem of his life is formed under the smooth spiritual control of gentleness with which he now meets his fellow-men. That sorrow is nourished by this gentleness, and, striking its roots deeper, becomes an ardent longing after the righteousness of God. This gentleness, under the holy longing after righteousness and its satisfaction, is developed into tenderheartedness, which recognizes his neighbour as miserable, and is interested in positively rescuing him. Lastly, that hungering and thirsting after righteousness before God is satisfied under the exercises of mercifulness and the acts of self-denial which accompany it, and purity of heart is its fruit, the lily-blossom of the perfection of the life turned to God; and so at last this mercifulness ripens to the highest vitality in power to bring the peace of God, and to establish peace upon earth, and therefore in the perfection of the life turned to men. But this double threefold development of the Christian is a conflict against the world for eternal righteousness, and therefore is connected with the severest suffering; it is a suffering for God. But it is equally a suffering for holy man, a suffering for Christ’s sake,-indeed a dying with Him on His cross. These phenomena of the spiritual life consist neither in well-disposed natural states of the affections, nor in imperfect strivings of the will; they are neither moral virtues, nor legal habitual acts of a laborious, striving self-determination. They are rather, as constituents of the proper spiritual life, such dispositions as on the one hand may be contemplated as operations of God, as new states of the spirit, and, on the other, altogether as the ripe, free, ardent, decided acts of human striving; therefore spiritual determinations in which man, striving and free, lays hold of the divine life as he is laid hold of by it. Now, if the Lord pronounces men blessed in these spiritual states, it is not merely a promise of blessedness. They are already blessed, although they have not attained the full consciousness of this blessedness. The deepest divine sorrow exists under the influence of the peace of God, and is more blessed than the highest worldly enjoyment. But this blessedness is to be perfected;-the promises express that. To the poor in spirit the whole kingdom of heaven is allotted. Since he is poor in spirit, he is poor in the infinity of the divine life; therefore he is craving, poverty-struck, with a consecrated hungering after the Eternal,1 and on that account, because the infinite fulness of the Divine Spirit has already enkindled him, and thus he is nobly covetous of the highest, he is become a spiritual mendicant, so that the whole world can no longer satisfy him. In his eager anticipation, that fulness has already touched him and penetrated his inmost life; hereafter the complete effulgence of that fulness shall enter his spirit. But as his poverty in spirit is formed and unfolded before God and the world, so also is his reward, or the inheritance that is promised him. To mourning absolutely-that is, the highest, pure, divine mourning sorrow for destitution of God-corresponds consolation absolutely; therefore, consolation from God in the heavenly refreshment and encouragement of his life. For this mourning proceeds from the disgust man feels with pleasure in vain things: the mourner absolutely is impelled by the presentiment of the eternal, serene, divine life, the peace of God; and hence this peace is to greet him in a spiritual rejuvenescence of life, and will hereafter become altogether his portion. But the disciples of Jesus inherit the earth as the meek. The holy land of the world, now in the course of transformation, and hereafter to be wholly transformed, gains immediately for them a fresh splendour, and will be one day their heritage, the earthly basis for the appearance of their glory,1 not only because meekness, as the mightiest spiritual life, must lead to victory over the rude, impassioned men of violence, and because God makes up to the patient his injured rights by abundant recompense, but also because the meek is already filled with the ideal of the transformed earth, and therefore cannot eagerly contend about the provisional forms of the earth and earthly phantoms; since he has chosen paradise in the earth, while others have chosen in it the accursed ground, therefore, in fact, only the curse which is to be withdrawn from the earth.2 Here it becomes evident in what a rich sense the rights of the Jewish year of jubilee find their essential realization in the consummation of Christ’s kingdom. Therefore the disciples of Jesus appear as renouncing their claims in the old world, not because they have no sense of the beauty of the world, but because the resplendent image of the pure divine world ravishes and ennobles them, and has raised them above the lower desires of transitory things. But above all things they yearn after the prime fundamental condition of all divine life-righteousness. All their longing, every desire of their life, is tinged and controlled by this highest spiritual aspiration, and is drawn into the ardent revolution of this aspiration; therefore, their very breaking of bread easily becomes the supper for the remembrance of the death of Jesus, and their bridal festivity a symbol of Christ’s relation to the Church. But since in all things they long after righteousness, all the fulness of life to their life’s satisfaction is to be given to them in and with the righteousness of God; they are to be satisfied absolutely-altogether calmed with the reconciling righteousness first of all, but also with all heaven, which is in its train, until they are satisfied in their infinite longing, and express it in never-ending praise. This satisfaction is already announced in their hunger and thirst; for the most ardent desire after righteousness is the most ardent motive to be released from the bondage of creature-desire, the cessation of the desire of human nature-life, by entrance into the Christian ideality of the world, in which man enjoys everything in the spirit. The pain suffered for eternal righteousness leads the higher longing of life into the quiet tribunal in the breast in which earthly wishes die, there to be examined and tried; and thus it is glorified as the joy of sorrow, rests in God, comes forth from this tribunal, and in the transformed sorrow of life’s deepest depths has recognized its choicest part, the blessedness of the cross. With this divine satisfaction of their life, the disciples of Jesus have become rich in the presence of suffering humanity; and as in these riches they exercise mercy, so also they obtain mercy. In the soothing balm which now streams forth from their benevolent heart into the wounds of their neighbours and of the world, they have gained the sense for the rich, divine balm of healing mercy which streams into their own sick life, their life’s wounds, in order to complete their restoration; and in the gentle influence of God’s Spirit they feel assured of finding mercy both with God and man-in distress and death-that even after they lose their health and sink strengthless, everything must be transformed for them into a sheltering bosom of God’s love-into a holy grave filled with the healing and reviving power of God. The perfection of their life in its upward direction consists in purity of heart. The heart is first pure in positive power, in the firmness of the eternal spirit, when it desires, grasps, and retains nothing worldly as worldly, and nothing of its own as its own; when it seeks and finds all things only in God, and only God in all things. In this state of the perfected spirit no desire disturbs its Christian ideal or holy relation to God and the world; and therefore the heart has become a pure mirror in which the glory of God is expressed most clearly to a spiritual eye that can see God. This seeing of God is to be accomplished as the most intimate knowledge and experience of God’s administration and nature, as it is revealed through all the world; therefore it is mediated by the spiritual contemplation of Christ, in whom the organic life-principle of the world is revealed, in whom the image of God has appeared. The possibility of God’s being seen is conditioned by this revelation of God (which at the same time is the glorification of the world), by the being of Christ. Moreover the possibility of the heart’s becoming pure is conditioned by the believing contemplation of the positive purifying divine purity in him.1 According to this promise, the heart’s becoming pure must be essentially allied to the elevation of the spirit to the sight of God. Hence it follows that the cognitive power of man, his power of spiritual vision, has its innermost nerve in the life of his heart. If he is foolish in his thinking, so is he foolish in his heart,2 and out of the corruption of his feelings arises the corruption of his thoughts. If a man is wise, he is wise in his heart: the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. The highest form of knowledge is therefore not the abstract apprehension of philosophizing thought, but the spiritual seeing in which all the faculties (Qualitäten) of the spirit discharge their functions, priest-like, in the most living unity-a seeing in which the whole life becomes knowledge, and all knowledge perfect life-the eye one with the heart, and indeed one in the clearest beholding of God, as it proceeds from union with God in the purity of the heart.3 The human heart was originally consecrated to be a place for the spaceless, a measure of time for the timeless, a uniqueness of the revelation of the eternal God; therefore it can never become a tabula rasa of infinite desolation and worthless insensibility; as it has died altogether to the world, it has become alive in the eternal God. Now, since man, according to the measure of this purification becomes a peacemaker and a messenger of peace for the world, an angel of the Gospel, or a Christian genius of the world’s peace resting in reconciliation with God,-so he also obtains an inheritance that corresponds to this life. The kings and judges of the earth were from the beginning destined to rule as peacemakers in a higher sense over the earth full of contentions, and to quell the hellish strife of the passions; and in accordance with this destination they are called in a higher sense, children or sons of God.1 But the kings and judges of the ancient world mostly contradicted their destination, and in the best instances exhibited only more or less strong symbols of the essential heavenly life of their calling that could be first realized in spirit in the life of the disciples of Jesus. These therefore undertook in the most real sense the office to judge and to rule on the earth by the word of God in the spirit of His love; and for this ever more, as the end of the world approaches, will the honour be awarded them, that they have become the true chiefs of the human race,2 its perpetual assessors of peace,3 and the most genuine sons of God in the world’s history. They were once the most real, most absolute mendicants,-mendicants emphatically, as the poor in spirit; and to this character it corresponds that they have now become the most special chiefs of humanity, illustrious chiefs in the kingdom of the spirit, sons of God, and are recognized as such.4 Thus the rewards of the disciples of Jesus rise with their virtues. In their spiritual position before God they were first of all comforted, then filled, lastly illuminated and glorified in the vision of God by His sun-like splendour; but in the presence of the world, they gained the inheritance of the new earth, they experienced the healing of all their life’s wounds, and attained those spiritual honours which are the reflection of their inner life and outward conduct in the award of God and the acknowledgment of men. But as that Christian deportment towards God and towards men unfolded itself in a constant polar reciprocal action-so that, for example, mourning before God became meekness towards men, and from mercy towards men came purity of heart before God; so likewise their rewards unfold themselves in this reciprocal action. As the comforted ones, Christians have begun to understand the true enjoyment of the earth, and the images in it of the Eternal; as those who see God, they have gained that power of light which is reflected in their countenances, so that they can overpower the demons of strife on earth. But because on the whole path of this spiritual life they have been persecuted for righteousness’ sake, theirs is the kingdom of heaven. But why again the kingdom of heaven, as well as in the case of the poor in spirit? For this reason: the kingdom of heaven is the all-comprehensive expression of the divine requital, and because it develops itself in a distinct contrast from the deepest secrecy as the work of God in the heart to the highest glorification of the life and of the world. As the poor in spirit, they already possess the kingdom of heaven in its foundation, for the work of God has made its beginning in their hearts. But they scarcely know themselves how rich they have become. As the rich in spirit, they have been driven and persecuted through the world; but by this means they have become conscious that to them belongs the kingdom of heaven, and indeed that they exhibit, reveal, and spread it in the world by their life; and at last they know perfectly that their life is one and the same with the kingdom of heaven, and that the kingdom of heaven, in its complete manifested glory, becomes their inheritance. But this was the historical, the satisfied form of their holy life, that they suffered for Christ’s sake and with Him. He was the life-principle of their whole spiritual life and condition; therefore their inheritance gains the complete historical form; they enter into the kingdom of Christ’s glory, in which they associate themselves with their predecessors the prophets in one grand choir, and in the perfected relations of blessedness receive their full reward in the personal assembly of the redeemed. The spiritual relations of the kingdom of heaven, therefore, perfectly coincide with its individual relations; the name of Christ is one with righteousness; and as the suffering for righteousness was a suffering of persecution for Christ’s sake, so the spiritual gain of the kingdom of heaven is an individual entrance into heaven, and a reception of the reward in the circle of the blessed prophets. Thus has the Lord marked out the ascent of His disciples to the summit of their felicity. This heavenly way forms a contrast to the world’s way of death; and hence the conflict and persecution experienced by believers. Therefore they should not think this experience strange; they must go through this necessity of conflict. The Lord points this out to them by two similitudes. They are the salt of the earth. Salt, as the most living mineral substance, as the highest, sharpest life-spirit of earthy minerals, seasons the earthy nutritious matter, and checks the corruption of animal substances; and so the children of the Spirit of Christ, in the power of this Spirit punishing what is evil, vivifying and transforming what is naturally good, are the seasoning, conservative, and transforming life-power of human society.1 But since salt is the noblest mineral, which can improve even bread and flesh, vegetable and animal life, it becomes the least valuable when it is decayed, and loses its seasoning power; it then sinks below dead rubbish, and can only serve as the most worthless mineral, to be cast out of doors to mend the road. Such deterioration is indeed not possible in pure earthly salt; and as little is it possible in the pure spiritual salt, the life of Christ. But as there is in nature an imperfect salt, which, on account of its earthy mixture, can decay and become worthless,1 so it is also possible with the spiritual salt which the disciples exhibit before the world. Just as Christ calls them the light of the world on account of the illumination which they receive from Him, although much that is dark in their minds requires to be removed; so here He calls them the salt of the earth because the sharp, spiritual power that He imparts to them must form the governing principle of their life, although still much that is earthly is in their spiritual nature, by which they may be again corrupted, and then most awfully be cast away. The disciples therefore are to preserve their salt-power and sharpness before the world. And while as the salt of the earth they are to preserve the world from moral corruption and hellish ruin, they must likewise plant in it the highest, heavenly life as the light of the world. They are not to imagine that they can remain hidden any more than a city that is set upon a hill.2 Still less should they aim at concealing their luminous spiritual life. A lamp is lighted, not to be put under a corn-measure,3 but on a stand, that it may give light to all that are in the house. So should they confidently let their light, of which the first ray is poverty in spirit, and therefore humility, shine before men; and if people at first revile in them the mystic source of their light, the name of Christ, yet they will at last learn to value the beneficial effects of their light, their good works, and glorify the Father in heaven. This is the practical close of the discourse on the beatitudes. But now the Lord must display to His disciples the world with which they will come in conflict in its worst form, in the positive descent from the mountain, from the pure legal standpoint, therefore (so to speak) from the consecrated heights of Sinai, as it was exhibited in the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes. And since His disciples, like the Jews generally, were wont to identify the law of Moses and the maxims of the scribes, the hallowing of that law and the righteousness of the Pharisees according to those maxims, so they were in danger of being perplexed at the doctrine of Christ as soon as they perceived its contrariety to the maxims of the Pharisees. Hence Christ first of all determines the relations in which, on the one hand, He stands with His doctrine to the Old Covenant, and in which, on the other, the Pharisees and scribes are to the same. This is the relation of Christ to the Old Covenant. He came not to destroy the law or the prophets.1 Generally He came not to destroy, but to fulfil.2 In His institution the perfection of all the legal institutions and ordinances of the kingdom of God lies in their unity; just as in the flower, not the half, but the whole substance of the plant is brought into splendid exhibition. In His life this fulfilling of the Old Testament seed was completed in its chosen part or centre. But as to its circumference, the unfolding of this fulfilment continues to the end of the world.3 And before heaven and earth or the old world-form are dissolved, not an iota, not a tittle4 of the law will be dissolved or destroyed; nothing of it will be destroyed till all which it has determined has become a reality.5 Whatever was fixed as law can only be removed by its being changed into a principle of life by the spirit. But when a false spirit, as Spiritualism, would remove such a legal appointment by a pure negation, without renewing and elevating it into an evangelical appointment, the supposed expunged iota or the misunderstood fragment of the mutilated law will make its appearance again in large or even flaming characters; it will take vengeance on those who in a perverse spirit misinterpreted or rejected it. And thus will the law for ever enforce its claims till every part of it has come to pass or become life-until this mature life-birth of the realized law makes its appearance as a new world, and the enclosing shell of the old world is broken through and destroyed. Therefore he is not a reformer, but a revolutionist, who relaxes or destructively repeals one of the least enactments of the law, or perverts it by a false interpretation,6 without restoring or preserving it in an evangelical form. And whoever misleads others to this nullification, such a person will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, because his spirit has the smallest compass, because he cannot come to the life of the law without giving up the fulness of its enactments and confining himself to a few abstract principles. But whoever strives above all things to keep the law in its power and full extent, and teaches accordingly, shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. This is the greatness of the reformer, that he collects together all the riches of the enactments of the law, and unfolds them in the fully comprehensive, though not directly explicit, enactments of the Gospel.1 But such revolutionists who disannul the true law we have had to seek for a thousand times in a quarter where we should least suspect them to exist-among the men of prescriptions. The righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes leads not to the kingdom of heaven, but downhill to the abyss. And this is shown first of all in their disfiguring the true law. While, therefore, in Christianity the glorification of Sinai, the fulfilling and bloom of the Old Covenant, must be recognized, we see in the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes a dissolution of this covenant.2 This heavy charge the Lord establishes in the sequel. From His showing, it appears that the old law might be annulled in different ways. This annulment had been brought about slowly, by a succession of criminal acts, the offspring of false tradition. We cannot say who did it; it was effected by the general spirit of the interpretation (ἐῤῥέθη); but this tradition was carefully taken up by the ancients, or at least by those who were like-minded (ἀρχαίοις). The first corruption of the law was shown in this, that it was not developed according to its spirit, but was limited to its literal meaning. Thus the Jews had understood the law, Thou shalt not kill, by the addition of the civil enactment, Whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment, in stiff literality, without ascertaining its spirit and applying it to the life; therefore they had deprived it of its spirit and annulled it. But the law must be developed if it is to remain true; it operates falsely as soon as it is only enforced according to the letter. This we see in the first example. Christ develops this first law according to its spirit. Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause3 shall be in danger4 of the district court;1 for he has exalted himself against its right to be judge over him, and thereby made an insolent attack on the rights of this court. But whoever says to his brother, Racha! thou detestable one! thou accursed one!2 he is obnoxious to the judgment of the Sanhedrim, since he has designated his brother as one excommunicated from the congregation-a judgment which belongs only to the Sanhedrim. But whoever says to him, Thou fool! thou wicked, abandoned reprobate! he is obnoxious to the heaviest divine judgment in Israel, which sentences to be thrown into the hell of fire, to be executed and thrown into the valley of Gehinnom, and to be burnt as a corpse with the corpses that are thrown there,3 according to the same law, because, without right or reason, he had condemned his brother to this penal court. Therefore the unauthorized judge rightly incurs the same judgment which, contrary to love, he inflicts on his neighbour. If he treats him as a criminal, he exposes himself to the criminal court; if he condemns him as a heretic, he is obnoxious to the tribunal for heresy; and if he gives him up as a reprobate past recovery, he is obnoxious to the highest religious tribunal in which the punishment of damnation is reflected. It is therefore manifest that Christ does not merely intend to represent an uncharitable disposition as damnable, by an arbitrarily marked hyperbolic punishment: He rather exhibits uncharitableness from the first in its subtle, social offences, as to make it punishable according to the spirit of the law in a social sense. The aggravations of guilt are quite definite, and with the same definiteness the succession of courts of justice to which the person guilty of uncharitableness would be amenable. The meaning of the succession of courts of justice was, in short, this: It is criminal when a man stamps his brother, in unauthorized private passion, arbitrarily as a criminal; it is heretical when he stamps him as a heretic; and damnable when he dooms him to perdition. These sharp distinctions must serve to show how far the law, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ goes beyond the limited exposition, the murderer alone falls under the judgment of the criminal court: how soon the uncharitable would be lost with the first expressions of his uncharitableness, if he were judged by God and man according to the standard which his own uncharitableness has set up. That severity, therefore, which too hastily judges a brother, always exposes itself to its own sentences, and that according to its own rules. So sharp is the law in its development, since it demands the greatest gentleness of love, the placable spirit which the Lord characterized by a single case. ‘If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there recollectest before God-where the admonitory and punitive Spirit of God looks sharply upon man, and where the pious easily becomes conscious of a hidden fault-that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way, and be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.’ So very much is reconciliation with God conditioned by the spirit of reconcilableness towards man. The point in question is, indeed, not an outward and literal, but a spiritual fulfilment of this rule; as, for example, it was in this sense a custom among the early Christians for the members of a family to beg forgiveness of one another before they went to the holy supper. ‘See to it,’ the Lord adds, ‘that thou agreest with thy adversary who hastens a suit against thee whilst thou art on the way to the judge; quickly come to terms with him, that he may not hand thee over to the judge, and the judge cause thee by his officers to be cast into prison.’ If there is the right to bring to judgment, it will operate in the form of judgment; there will be no release till the last farthing is paid, till the debt has been discharged according to law. Thus man must cherish a deep, holy solicitude, lest he should in any way violate love. This spirit of mildness and reconciliation is the spirit of the law, Thou shalt not kill. Also a second command, the law, Thou shalt not commit adultery, the Jews had deprived of its due force by not developing it according to its meaning, but, on the contrary, misinterpreting it. The Lord restores this development: Whoever looketh on a woman with the design to lust after her, he has already committed adultery with her in his heart.1 So easily may guilt be contracted if we are not on our guard. The law of marriage requires a holy caution, which shows itself particularly in two respects. A man must pluck out his right eye, if he is seduced by the eye to commit this transgression. This probably is to be understood of the pleasurable gazing on beauty. The pleasure of beholding which leads to ruinous desires must be entirely renounced, though it may be the most ardent enthusiasm, the pleasure of the right eye. And so a man must cut off his right hand, if by this hand he is seduced into transgression. This probably is to be understood of friendly intercourse. It must be entirely given up, if a man cannot overcome and destroy the temptation in it by faith, even though it were the most powerful attachment.1 But not only had the Jews injured the law of marriage by the want of development, but likewise in another way: that political concession which Moses had annexed to the promulgation of the eternal law itself, in order gradually to pave the way for the true sanctification of marriage, they neither recognized nor practised according to its true and holy intent, but had represented it with lightness as a trivial matter. Moses found the practice of divorce, as a natural result of his people’s hardness of heart, to be a custom which he could not put a stop to by legislation, because the actual marriage very often did not correspond to the ideal true marriage. As long as the actual marriage was frequently at variance with the ideal of marriage, so long it was needful for the concession to continue. But it must be regulated and checked by the law, in order that many marriage-contracts might not be contaminated by the preceding unrestrained divorces, and that the law might promote the continual tending of the actual marriage towards the ideal. Therefore Moses introduced a check on the unrestrained practice of divorce by ordaining ‘a writing of divorcement.’2 But instead of seeing a limitation of divorce in this statute, the Jews saw an encouragement of it. Hence Christ pronounced the decision, ‘Every divorce which is not occasioned by adultery (whoredom) is itself adultery, inasmuch as the divorced is beguiled to regard herself as free, and to marry again; and so also he violates the marriage who espouses the divorced.’ Adultery, therefore, is committed when the divorce of the former marriage ends in a new one. A similar manner of obscuring the law by a misinterpretation of its decisions, is shown in the way the Jews decided on the law of oaths.3 Moses looked upon the oath in civil matters as an unavoidable instrument of justice.4 But in general he counterworked the taking an oath. This he did in three ways. In the first place he interdicted the false oath as an abuse of the name of God (Exodus 20:7; Leviticus 19:12); then he insisted on regarding as sacred, and on fulfilling, a vow made with an oath;5 and thirdly, he decided that persons were to swear by the name of the Lord.6 In this way of counterworking the taking of oaths, Christ advances to the full accomplishment; and certainly in opposition to the Jews, who had made out of the Mosaic regulations a very easy theory of oath-taking. Christ forbids the spontaneous swearing of the individual absolutely, that is, asseverations by oath in a literal sense. The person swearing appeals to some object as a witness; he constitutes that object an avenger or a pledge for the truth of his deposition. But in this lies the wrongfulness of the common voluntary adjuration. How can a person constitute anything as a pledge for the truth of his assertions when all things belong to God? If he swears by heaven, he presumes to pledge the throne of God. Just so, he acts against eternal right when he would pledge the earth, which is God’s footstool; or Jerusalem, the chief city of Jehovah as the great King of the theocracy; or even his own head, his life, which altogether, even to every hair, in all its several relations, is under the control of God. Only his own consciousness can he pledge. But this is done when he makes his simple assertion in yea and nay serve for an oath, when he strengthens the common Yea or Nay by a solemn Yea! or Nay! and therefore speaks with a collectedness and certainty which may be regarded as the consciousness of one taking an oath who speaks in the presence of God. Whatever goes beyond that, the Lord says, is from the evil one, at all events, proceeds from the corruption of the world. When the State makes a form of adjuration, because it cannot dispense with it for the sake of the general body, the Christian should then drop his yea and nay, but should know that his yea and nay signify the pledge of his moral person for his word before God; and that of themselves no adjurations can have greater force which do not become him, and which obscure the true essential oath-nature of veracious speech (James 5:12). It is no contradiction of this statement respecting the law of oaths when Christ admitted the validity of the oath before the Sanhedrim, for He rendered it on His part by the solemn yea, which to Him was always equivalent to an oath. And when the Apostle Paul appeals to the truth of Christ within him (2 Corinthians 11:10), or to his conscience in the Holy Ghost (Romans 9:1), or calls God to witness,-in these assurances there appears to us precisely the glorification of the oath, namely, the avowal of his Christian elevated consciousness, in which the truth of Christ, the witness of God and his conscience, are one. For his consciousness is exactly that over which the speaker has power, which he can pledge by his assurance as a witness. From this it may be inferred that the pure oath in God’s sight, in the life of the believer who has united himself with God, is no oath in the common sense, and hence it was not mentioned by Christ. But when it is said, God swore by Himself (Isaiah 45:23; Hebrews 6:13), this is the expression of the perfect self-consciousness of God, which is one with His personality, and the most solemn assurance that in the power of His self-consciousness or personality, He makes an everlasting covenant with His children as personal beings related to Him. Again, another perversion of the law takes place when it is falsely applied; when, for example, a regulation for public State life is extended to private life. So it was with the strict law of retaliation (Lex talionis), ‘Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’1 The Mosaic legislation expressed this law of sheer retaliation most vividly in these words. Moses gave this right of retaliation the form of revenge, in order to intimate that it should set aside revenge and be a substitute for it. Indeed, private revenge he expressly forbids (Leviticus 19:18). And that legislation itself was not wanting in the living explanation and application of this enactment. The enactment was orally made (Exodus 21:26), when any one smote his servant or maid in the eye, and the eye perished, or when he smote out a tooth of either, he was to be punished by letting the injured party go free. But the Jew brought this right of retaliation as a right of revenge into his private life; exactly contrary to the intention of the law, which was to guard against revenge. Therefore the Lord developed the law in His declaration, ‘Resist not evil:’ you are not to assert your right by personal individual violence, but by the greatest patience and forbearance promote the rule of public justice, appeal to and announce the eternal justice. This precept the Lord illustrates by concrete specifications which are to be explained together, not literally, but spiritually: ‘Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, offer him also the left:’ let him feel by thy equanimity and willingness to suffer that thou art not agitated about thy right, but with firm joyfulness abidest certain of eternal justice, which protects thy dignity. Let not the civil tribunal be thy highest confidence. If any man will sue thee for thy coat, and seek to take it from thee in that way, let him have thy cloak also, though it may be of greater value.2 Let him quietly dispute with thee about thy property, and rather let all go as a poor beggar, than oppose in court a quarrelsome disposition with the same spirit, or lose thy Christian equanimity by a false judgment Do not continue disputing in an earthly court of judicature, but give an unequivocal sign that thou art certain of the eternal court of judicature. And though the supreme earthly power does thee injustice, when a person more powerful than thyself compels thee to go a mile as a messenger,3 outvie the coercion of this world of violence by the alacrity of a spirit which proclaims the victory of love over force by going two miles with him. And when, lastly, any one employs the most powerful weapons against thee, gentle entreaty, as a needy person, or a borrower, grant him his request. Here in a wonderful manner culminates the enactment, Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. The highest, strictest justice is, according to its innermost meaning, this tender love which, in the deep humiliation of a man before his fellow-man as if he were a king, beholds a claim to which he must respond by the tenderest compliance. It is due to one’s neighbour, it is due to one’s self, to limit these maxims in actual life, or to apply them with wisdom. But the preservation of personality which opposes ill-usage must never become revenge; the preservation of property must never become a fondness for litigation; the preservation of free self-determination must never become a fierce wrestling with superior power; the preservation of domestic economy against beggars and borrower must never become a heartless ‘turning thyself away’ (Matthew 5:42); but in all these cases, the spirit of the highest love must dictate and animate the protective measures. Thus the Christian spirit, by cheerful submission to suffering, moderation, compliance, and willingness to serve others, is to spread abroad a spirit of life which overcomes the endless litigations of the old world, which always threaten to become an endless complication of revenge, and allows the bloom of the most rigid public retribution to appear in the manifestation of the free kingdom of love. But how these precepts are to be fulfilled, in the spirit, not in the letter, that was shown by the Lord, when before the Sanhedrim one of the officers smote Him with the palm of his hand (John 18:22). The calm reprimand which He gave to the man, showed that He was not afraid of a second blow, and perhaps was the occasion of His being smitten still more (Matthew 26:67). The last obscuration of the law is the worst, namely, the positive falsification and perversion of a legal enactment. The bigoted pharisaical spirit had referred the Mosaic command, Thou shalt love thy neighbour,1 exclusively to the Jews, and then deduced from it the poisonous false converse, and hate thy enemy. To this vile perversion (Leviticus 24:22) the Saviour opposes the true development of the law of love to our neighbour. Our enemy is exactly so far our neighbour, that he more than any one else agitates and occupies our thoughts; therefore he is especially commended to our love. Precisely on those who curse us must we more urgently invoke than upon others the blessings of illumination and mercy, if their curse is not to kindle in us the curse of hatred. Towards them that hate us, we have most of all to take pains not to damage, but to benefit the bedimmed human life in them; and lastly, for those who slander, threaten, and actively injure us,2 our intercessions are especially demanded, since they are constantly giving us fresh impressions of their unhappy state. These are the mournful images in which our neighbour must always continue to be commended to our love. It is God’s plan so to rule over His enemies with sunshine and rain: the children of His spirit must imitate Him in this love of enemies. This is the special test of the spiritual life of a genuine believer. But if we merely love our friends, and kindly salute our brethren, this is merely an exercise of the natural affections as they are found among publicans and heathens, without any self-conquest; no victory and no blessed fruit of the spiritual life. After the Lord had shown how His Jewish opponents had deformed and relaxed the law of God1 by their maxims, He points out how they corrupted religious life by their sanctimoniousness and hypocrisy, and precisely ‘in the three chief modes of practical religion, in the performance of which the arrogance of pharisaic piety was pre-eminently displayed, and which the Church of Rome has specially comprehended under the name of good works, almsgiving, fasting, and prayer.’2 Pharisaism imagined that it rendered the highest obedience in these principal relations of religious life, which ought to exhibit the right demeanour of a good man towards his neighbour, towards God, and towards his own life, while in reality, by forced service and false appearances, it corrupted these works, and sank down to the poorest and grossest unreality of the heathen. These hypocrites, first of all, made out of righteousness3 a dead mechanical service of almsgiving, and out of this mechanical service a parade of pretended holiness. When they gave alms, they caused trumpets to be sounded before them in the synagogues and public places. The trumpets which the Lord refers to were probably the loud and shrill beggars’ litanies, which are always the offspring of mendicity wherever pharisaic beneficence carries on its operations; and so they have their reward-the foolish praise of blind admirers. But the Christian ought to give his alms with the greatest quietness and absence of parade. His left hand is not to know what his right hand doeth (Matthew 6:3). No scrupulous counting out of one hand into the other is permitted before the almsgiving, and no vainglorious clapping of hands after it. The deed is performed as a pure impulse of the heart by the beneficent hand under the protection of its inward truthfulness, and never is it published to the bystanders. Whoever thus performs his good works in secret is seen by his Father in heaven; and in the public blessing which He causes to come upon him, it is manifest that He has recognized and rewarded his liberality. Equally did these pretended religionists desecrate prayer. Since the Jew everywhere performed his prescribed devotions, as soon as the appointed hour of prayer arrived, wherever he might be, ‘the hypocrite could so contrive that exactly at that time he should be in the streets.’4 In such public situations these men preferred to pray in order to be seen by the people. But in return, this show was their only gain. The Christian, on the contrary, prays according to another rule. He prays in his chamber1 with closed doors; for he has to do with his Father, who Himself acts in secret, and from His secrecy beholds him who is praying in secret. And this prayer, this most secret of secret things, as it were lost in invisibility, is blessed by God as a living spiritual work, and becomes manifest in the most glorious open effects. But not only by their hypocritical pretensions and gloomy slave-like service did the hypocrites desecrate their prayers, like the heathen, they made them, in their delusion, mere babbling: the more words, forms, litanies of devotion, so much greater merit and acceptance with God. The Christian dare not and cannot so pray; for he knows that He to whom he speaks, who already knows all that he has to say, and whose Spirit meets the words in his own spirit, anticipates his wishes, and changes his prayer to praise. The Lord now points out to His disciples how they ought to pray, by communicating to them what we call the Lord’s Prayer. This does not appear to stand here in its right place, since it interrupts the progressive delineation of pharisaic corruption. At all events, Luke has specified a more suitable occasion for it. He narrates (Luke 11:2) that the disciples had seen their Lord praying in private, and that at the close of the prayer one of them availed himself of the opportunity to request Him that He would teach them to pray, as John had taught his disciples. It has been supposed that the time when the Lord communicated the prayer to His disciples is more correctly given by Luke than by Matthew.2 But since Luke does not everywhere keep to the exact order of events, since particularly he gives this history in a connection that rests on no exact chronological datum, we may well admit that the place where the disciples saw the Lord praying was the top of the mountain, the summit, where He first honoured them to live in the most cordial intercourse with Him, and so to see Him praying; and as soon as we make that point clear, this occurrence becomes very probable. The most distinguished of these disciples were themselves of the school of John, and prayed in forms which John had taught them, and which probably referred to the kingdom of the Messiah and the baptism of the Spirit as future divine institutions. As soon, therefore, as in this confidential intercourse they saw the Lord’s method of prayer, it occurred to them that in their method of prayer they were still the disciples of John, and now the forms of prayer they had received from him must appear to them as unsatisfactory, perhaps as quite unsuitable. Hence the boldest in their circle was induced to represent this circumstance to the Lord, with the wish that now, as they had become His disciples, they might be taught to pray according to His method. Here, therefore, the request of the disciples is clearly accounted for. If, on the other hand, we suppose it was made by them half a year later, perhaps in the summer of 782, the time to which the general position of the prayer in Luke may point, it might then appear as rather too late; and the exact reference of the disciples to the circumstance that John also taught his disciples to pray, would be without any adequate reason, since Jesus, in a great variety of ways, had already explained His relation to John. But if the Lord’s Prayer was dictated in the manner we have specified on that Galilean mountain-top, in all probability it originally preceded the Sermon on the Mount. It formed the transition, so to speak, to the instructions which Jesus here imparted to His disciples. But the Evangelist, who wished to exhibit the whole discourse of Jesus in uninterrupted connection, placed it here, where the subject under consideration was the right method of praying, in opposition to the pharisaical. John the Baptist, in accordance with his general character, would attach much greater weight than Jesus to training his disciples in outwardly fixed religious exercises, since he could not impart to them what constitutes the life of all true exercises of devotion, the baptism of the Spirit. Christ, on the contrary, taught His disciples to pray from the first by a different method, since He carried them on imperceptibly in the way of evangelical guidance to life in the Spirit. He taught them, in truth, to pray without ceasing. Yet He did not deny their pious request, and so they received, at their little but living request, which itself was a beginning of most spiritual praying, that great, infinitely deep prayer, the form of prayer which they preserved as an invaluable jewel, and have handed down to the Church. We may regard this prayer as the most concentrated form of all Christian spiritual life. Just as the Eternal Word, generally, was made flesh in Christ, or as the whole æthereal fire which animates our planetary system has found its expression in the sun; just as in the diamond all the elements, particularly water and light, seem to sparkle in concentrated unity; so is this prayer a form in which all the elements of the Christian spiritual life are united. First, all the doctrines of the fundamental relations of the Christian life, and of the correct order and sequence of its component parts, are to be found in it. Then it is also a compendium of all the divine promises which invite man to Christianity, and lead him to find in it his complete redemption. On the other hand, it presents the arranged pure expression of all true human prayers as they issue from the flames of all human sighs, from the purified glow of all human aspirations.1 Therefore it is, at the same time, the combination of all Christian vows, in which the promises of God have become one with human sighs, and the work of the regeneration of the Christian completed. And as this whole Christian life rests on the life of Christ, so at the same time we may see in it a regular series of the redeeming facts of Christ’s life. Lastly, the course of the Christian’s life, and, in fact, the world-historical development of the Church, is expressed in it; for the Christian’s pilgrimage begins with calling on the Father, and closes with redemption from death. The Church of God is born into the world with calling on the name of God, and the general judgment at last brings its complete redemption. The invocation of the prayer manifests the pure and perfect spirit of prayer, which is one with the spirit of perfect religion, and with the spirit of the highest knowledge. Father, prays the Christian in the spirit of a child. But this child-spirit is not without the feeling of humanity and brotherhood, in truth a fraternizing with all good spirits; therefore it is said, Our Father-Father of us all. And great as the Father and as the praying family is the Father’s house: the spirit of devout Christian Theism, in its elevation above all Polytheism, Pantheism, and Deism, expresses this by the addition, Who art in heaven! Present in all heavens, not merely, according to the meagre representation of modern Pantheists, superintending the earth, or rather only struggling into consciousness Himself: transforming all worlds into heavens, not, according to the representation of the more profound ancient Pantheism, inundated and darkened by all worlds: in all heavens One, not, according to the erroneous fancy of Polytheists, divided into numberless powers: in all heavens comprehending also the earth, not, according to the false notion of the Deists, withdrawn into a heaven beyond the visible universe; He Himself is in all heavens; the supreme consciousness, the perfect personality, the Father who hears His praying child when he calls upon Him. So is He our Father in the heavens! After the invocation follow seven petitions, in which the primary relations of the kingdom of God, as well as of the Christian life, appear in orderly sequence and in the most living form. In seven spiritual acts and priestly dedications of life the child of God consummates the one spiritual act by which he calls down his Father with His heaven to earth, but which causes him to be drawn upwards by the Father out of all distresses, sins, and evils, into heaven. But this is the order of the spiritual life and of prayer: first of all, man must bear in his heart the cause of God, then the concerns of his own life and heart in God. If he merely, or first and chiefly, directs his regards to himself, then he loses God, or shrivels his sense of God into Pietism. In this case he is more conscious of his own devoutness than of his God. But were he to lose himself in God, and not also apprehend his own life in God, then would he not recognize God with a pure, child-like feeling, as the Father who loves and protects His child; he would give himself up as a Pantheist to the illusion of a Deity absorbing his life, or at all events allow his life to dissolve in Mysticism. In the life of a healthy piety, man apprehends God in himself and himself in God, by the Eternal Spirit which is given him in Christ; but he puts the life of God before his own life, for by the beholding of God in Christ must his own life be glorified. The Father Himself is the true heaven of all heavens; He therefore must come upon earth, in order that earth may become heaven. The faith of the child of God sees Him coming; but he also sees what is disposed to obstruct His advent, and stands ready to meet it with dark threatenings, though powerless. Therefore the most ardent longing is unfolded, and hastens its flight towards Him. It calls to the Father that He would come with His heaven in the three first great petitions. God is indeed on earth already, as in heaven, with His essential presence and superintendence, but not in the knowledge and acknowledgment of men-not with His name. The essence of God cannot be desecrated, but His name may be desecrated; just as the sun itself cannot be darkened, but the clear image of the sun in the earthly water-mirror, since it is broken and vanishes when the wind agitates the stream and obscures its clearness by the mud of its bed. In the turbid religions of earth the name of God is desecrated. In the true religion, which in its concentration is one with the person of Christ, the reflection of God’s glory, the express image of His essence, this name must become glorified to humanity, that it may confess to the Heaven of heavens, Hallowed be Thy name! But in proportion as humanity acknowledges and hallows this name in the reception of the right knowledge of God through Christ, this heaven lowers itself to earth. The kingdom of God which is in the heart of Christ is unfolded in the life of a holy community in which the perfect kingdom of God is exhibited-a kingdom in which the domain, the laws, the Ruler, and His administration, make up together one spiritual life, in which the King has His throne in every heart, and every heart has in its King its most glorious inheritance. This kingdom is in progress, but is confronted by the resistance of a kingdom of darkness. God must prepare its way, and the Christian will prepare its way in God. ‘Thy kingdom come!’ But if heaven descends to earth, then must earth become heaven. How will it become heaven? Not by satisfaction being given to the millions of morbid human desires and all the false aspirations of sinful human hearts, which would be doing the will of the world: by having everything removed which strives against and withstands the will of God, so that every heart is offered to Him, all life becomes subject to Him. Thus will the earth become a beautiful heaven when humanity in its life shall be entirely one with the life of God’s Spirit. Thy will be done, as in heaven so on earth. Thus the Christian in praying has given glory to God. The name of God has so cast its rays upon him that he has forgotten his own name; the kingdom of God has overwhelmed him with its fulness, and humbled him, so that his own glory has become nothing; the will of God has seized him like the glowing last day, and has consumed him as a burnt-offering with the innermost part of his own life-his self-will. Thus he has given God His due, but he himself seems vanished from the scene. The world itself appears a sacred pile of ashes under this devouring fire of the will of God, seizing and penetrating all things. Yet the God of the Christian does not consume his sacrifices, but transforms them, by consuming the evil in them. Thus then the believer comes forth purified from the divine fire, and now brings his own concerns to God. In the three first petitions, zeal was perfected for the honour of God, for the heavenly name of the Father, for the kingdom of the Son, for the perfected will of the Holy Spirit. In the four last petitions, on the other hand, the blessedness of the Christian is completed which proceeds from the view of this honour done to God, the higher world-life of men wherein they stand before God as eternal individuals. Three is the number of the Spirit; four is the number of the world-life. The man who rightly sinks himself in God, finds himself again in Him as a God-loved child, with his whole life borne and sustained by Him by means of his daily bread. Daily bread appears to him as the noble central point in that great operation of God’s hand which always preserves him. But what preserves and animates him? The whole divine agency appears to him as daily bread, a single agency in all, whatever promotes his outer and inner life. It is not, therefore, simply earthly bread, such as a mortal father provides for his mortal child, that is here spoken of, but the bread of God with which the Eternal Father daily nourishes the life of His eternal child and satisfies his heart, as this bread consists of bread and wine, light and air, men and solitude, friendship and love, God’s word and light, according to the varying needs of every soul. For the Christian daily bread becomes a nourishment of the spirit by thanksgiving, and the nourishment of the spirit becomes daily bread by the intensity of the enjoyment; the two always becoming more one by the unity of his outer and inner life.1 And in this spirit he feels all his own peculiar wants, he understands human necessity, and the divine provision for his trusting brethren, and the morbid indigence of the starving world. But with a bold soaring of filial confidence he sets himself free from all the infinite anxiety of his own heart and of the world by taking refuge with the Father. Our bread-the essential (or what corresponds to our nature as the essential nourishment of life), the super-substantial, the bread of heaven, the bread of men and Christians2-give us to-day. Thus first of all his present time is glorified. But in the next place, not the future but the past troubles him. The Christian cares first of all for yesterday, then for to-morrow. It is true he stands, in general, already in faith in the atonement; of the blotting out of his transgressions he is assured, and absolved from the sentence of final condemnation. But he well knows that he has been infinitely indebted to God with his sins and shortcomings, and will ever be indebted, and with him all his brethren.1 His own past casts a dark shadow over his life. The longer he stands before God, with so much greater force all his own debt affects him; the debts also of his brethren press upon him as well as his own sins.2 And even the sins by which his brethren had injured him, he now feels as his own trouble before God. The spirit of reconciliation in its unity with the spirit of reconcilableness agitates his soul, and his readiness to forgive his neighbour is to him a sign of the grace which will forgive him much more. On this point it cannot be supposed that ‘our reconcilableness gives a measure for the divine,’ still less that it can be a meritorious means of obtaining it. But reconciliation is reconciliation once for all; it is a spirit moving in every direction. If the offerer of the petition does not find the moving of the spirit of reconcilableness in his own breast, he cannot comfort himself with the divine reconciliation. What, then, he feels and performs in this respect is to him a sacramental sign of the great reconciliation in God. Thus he lays down forgiveness for his neighbour, which his neighbour perhaps cannot yet understand, on the altar of God. He really pledges himself in the most solemn manner to forgive all offenders, as he feels that he needs forgiveness; so that his prayer would be an imprecation on his own life, if it were not the most certain dedication of it in commemoration of the general atonement. He therefore seeks the transformation of his whole past, and of the past of all men, through grace. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors! And now he turns confidently to the future, with heavenly composure, but also with the holiest earnestness. His heart still trembles at the recollection, how a thousand times he has grievously transgressed through light-mindedness. He now knows the whole danger of the past, and has an impression that the path of his future will be haunted by the spirits of darkness. It has become evident to him that man tempts God a thousand times by his pride, and that, according to God’s justice, the temptation which he has practised must be abandoned, if he is to be humbled. He sees that, according to the everlasting right, most men under the effect of the old curse-destiny enter a tragical course in some peculiar sentence of temptation, or even of death; thereby they come to the real redemption from the curse which oppresses their life. And in the life of the Lord, the certainty makes him tremble that they might be led into such courses in the deepest temptation, not merely for themselves, but also for others, since in the tragical or retributive leading of Providence, everywhere men with men-the most innocent with the most guilty-are swallowed up in one catastrophe. But it is for him a most awful phenomenon, that many men mar again their tragical course to redemption in the catastrophe, and so get another fall, under great temptation, and plunge into deeper ruin. This danger, which threatens his own life and that of all his associates, terrifies him. It cannot indeed surprise a Christian, that throughout his whole life he should meet with a succession of temptations; and this general character of his pilgrimage he cannot wish altered, since only thus he fights out the battle of his life so as to test it. But he knows that the most inconsiderable temptation would be his ruin, unless he took refuge in God. And what might be the issue if all the destructive materials of temptation, if all the powers of darkness, were permitted in a concentrated position to attack him in all his weakness, and completely to agitate and imperil him? He knows not what he may unconsciously have been guilty of in this respect, or what may impend over him on account of others. But the mere possibility horrifies him, as the prospect of the crucifixion agonized the Lord in Gethsemane. And so, in sympathy with that future agony of his Lord, and from regard to thousands of his brethren who all in some way or other are in peril, and to the millions who still recklessly rush onwards into darkness, an irrepressible sense of his own and all human weakness rises within him, and he entreats God, Impel us not thither; do not, in retribution,1 carry us away into temptation! A profound sense of the justice of God, which plunges sinners who tempt God into critical situations, catastrophes, and judgments, is expressed in this entreaty, Hurry us not away into temptation! After this prayer, a profound sense of the mercy of God can discharge itself in the petition,2 Rather bear us upward to Thyself in redemption from evil.3 He has confessed all his weakness to God, and entrusted Him with his whole temporal future. He has become assured, in his weakness, of God’s redeeming omnipotence, and of its victory which annihilates the domination of all the powers of darkness. Over the evil one, and over evil and all the consequences of evil-all ills, over distress and death, his joy in God now soars aloft. He knows that all present ills are to be changed into angels of redemption, and that with the last ill, death, full redemption must come. Therefore now, with eagle’s wings, his hope flies to meet the coming redeeming Lord above all the troubles of time, and transports him in spirit to His own heaven. And in this hope he embraces also the whole still threatened and oppressed community, the entire suffering humanity, in its misery, supported by the promise of Christ, ‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me’ (John 12:32). And, rejoicing in spirit, he sees how redeeming Omnipotence carries upwards the whole heavenly humanity from the distress and anguish of the old earth and the bonds of darkness, from death and the flames of judgment, in triumph. In this anticipation of blessedness he utters his last petition.1 Thus the entire present and past, with the temporal and eternal future of the Christian, obtain through the prayer a heavenly transfiguration. The prayer here loses itself in a solemn silence which in its nature is an inexpressible act of adoration, a glorification of God resounding through the life. The doxology which has been added later2 to the Lord’s Prayer, translates this blessed silence into words which may be regarded as its correct interpretation. The words of this doxology express that the fulness of God, that His majesty, is the basis, the soul, and the aim of the prayer. The essence of this majesty of God spreads itself out in a threefold manner on the deep foundation of His eternity. The world is His kingdom, for He rules over it with absolute control; and thus everything which the Christian implores must proceed from His fulness and His appointment. The world is His work, for with absolute power He establishes and sustains the world; therefore the petitioner stands in the contemplation of His power. His very prayer is an effect of it, and all which is asked for must be obtained by its operation. Lastly, the world is the theatre of His honour, for with absolute clearness He reveals Himself in the world, and through it in its constantly increasing transfiguration, and all prayers, as well as all the fulfilments of all prayers, tend to His glory. Finally, the Amen is the seal of the prayer, in which the Spirit of God harmonizes with man, and the spirit of man with God; it is the announcement of the fulfilment of the prayer, and therefore a prophecy of the world’s transformation.3 The Evangelist Matthew appends to the prayer a comment on the fifth petition: ‘For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses’ (Matthew 6:14-15). We learn from the Evangelist Mark (Mark 11:25) the true relation of this explanatory remark to Christ’s doctrine concerning prayer. Christ urged in that connection, that the disciples before every prayer, just as before every sacrifice, under the enlightening, purifying effects of God’s presence, should call to mind the ill-will which might be in their heart against any offender, and effect a reconciliation in their hearts with him, that the curse of hypocrisy might not fall on their prayer. They were bound to make it clear to the last that the spirit of the need of reconciliation before God was identical with the spirit of reconcilableness towards their neighbour, and to recognize in the absence of the one, the absence of the other, and in the presence of the one, the presence of the other. The Lord next proceeds to give a representation of the third positive corruption of religious life. It shows itself first in legal, then in hypocritical fasts, and in works of worldly-mindedness which proceed from the operation of worldly sorrow and a false renunciation of the world. The hypocrites put on dismal looks at their fasts; they disfigure their countenances, exchange cheerfulness for gloom, to make a show before other people; their renunciation of the world is therefore in itself false; it is, in fact, a hankering after the praise of the world. But the abstemiousness of a Christian, when he finds it needful for the discipline of his outer and the furtherance of his inner life, ought to be a festival of his soul, and to proceed from the elevation of his soul above the lower necessities of the world; therefore he ought to fast with anointed head and fresh-washed countenance, with cheerful appearance and demeanour.1 His painful, free renunciation remains a mystery to the world, but it is manifest in a rich recompense from God. What the Spirit of God takes from him, it gives him back a hundredfold. From the pain of his renunciations, his higher life acquires fresh vigour. Upon this follows a longer warning against avarice and worldly anxiety, the connection of which with what goes before has been mistaken by many persons.2 And yet it might be understood by a glance at the conduct of the Pharisees, which the Lord had described. These men were, on the one hand, persons who fasted with a sad countenance; and on the other hand, such as were greedy of gain, amassing riches, and even devouring widows’ houses.3 Therefore in their hearts that fasting and this avariciousness must have a most intimate connection, or form a decided polarity. The history of monastic life is also an important voucher for the deep-lying connection of these passages. In it are seen the intensely dismal looks of a pseudo-Christian unworldliness; in the enormous accumulation of wealth and property in monastic institutions, the other pole is shown of the same perverse tendency. Discontent with the world (Weltgroll) always turns into eager desire after the world (Weltgier), since from the first it is animated and excited by a hidden germ of it. And when the monastic spirit has once realized its worldly greed, it is then preeminently a collector of ‘treasures upon earth;’ it appropriates a dead estate, and lays upon it its oppressive dead hand1 (Mortmain); while the merchant, the banker, and every man engaged in secular concerns, does not, at all events, collect his treasures so absolutely for himself as to withdraw them entirely from the general social system. But if we see in the Sermon on the Mount a confidential discourse, in which Christ communicates to His disciples the main outlines of His doctrine and of His kingdom in opposition to the Pharisaical system, we shall understand how strongly He charged upon them as a sin this amassing of treasure, and how this crimination itself might arise from a presentiment of the corruption which, in future times, the monkish and hierarchical covetousness would bring into the Church. He has warned His own people, particularly in relation to their apostolic mission in the world, with peculiar earnestness, of this tendency to suffocate men professing to renounce the world by dead monastic property,-the Protestant Church, by immense endowments,-the ecclesiastical office, by the management of small or perhaps gigantic and princely pastoral possessions, and altogether by striving after secular wealth. The treasures which are accumulated on earth imperceptibly escape from their foolish collector; they are consumed or taken away from him by moth, rust,2 and thieves; therefore, by the vegeto-animal, by the chemical, and by the moral principle of destruction in the lower transitory world, or, on the one hand, because by the lapse of time the property wears itself out and becomes valueless, and, on the other hand, by worldly fraud, it is soon snatched away from the possessor. But the treasures in heaven are beyond the reach of the destroyers; these are what men ought to acquire. The treasure should correspond to the heart in the wants of its eternity; it must therefore be a treasure embracing eternity-the divine life itself. For by the treasure the heart is polarized, it is in the treasure by its aims and desires. The heart reposes, therefore, in the eternity of heaven when its treasure is in heaven; on the contrary, it always suffers the death-pang of transitoriness when it has its treasure on earth, in earthly things. But how can it come to pass that the heart of an immortal being cleaves to the transitory earth? By the deceit of the inner eye, the sight of the spirit. Just as the eye of the body is light, the organ of light in affinity to the sun, enlightening the body, the individual sunlight of the body,1 transporting the body into the light of the world; so is the judgment of the spirit the inner light which mediates to the soul the light of God’s eternal world, the knowledge of its ideality and holiness, or of the eternal relations, rules, and laws of its being. If now the eye is simply in close junction2 with the soul, animated by the spirit and consciously directed to its proper object, then the whole body is luminous; it occupies its right place. But when the eye by inward thoughtlessness has lost its power of perception, and by a distracting vagrancy, so to speak, is become evil and false, the whole body is awfully darkened, it stands in night, and becomes a night-piece for others to contemplate. But this blindness of the spirit has a dreadful result. When the inner eye, the discernment of the soul, the understanding, becomes double-sighted and confused by the divided state of the heart, and thus a darkening power for the soul, how great then must be the darkness of all nature and the world in which the soul finds itself involved, not merely the sphere of its inclinations and desires, but also its experiences, means, and objects! The whole of God’s world becomes a midnight for one thus darkened, so that, groping in the dark, he seizes on the perishable as if it were the imperishable. It is true, the covetous man does not imagine that he is doing homage only to the earthly, but he wishes to connect the two, the service of God and the service of Mammon.3 But he cannot persist in this divided allegiance, but must neglect, hate, and despise one of the two masters, and that will be the lawful one. The servant of Mammon is therefore, as such, necessarily a despiser of God. After this solemn declaration, Christ lays open the fatal source of covetousness, which consists in heathenish anxiety. With the most glorious expressions of filial confidence, He dissuades from giving way to a baleful anxiety. But this anxiety is a distinct, over-hasty, irregular, conjectural brooding over the possible necessities of the future, by which the heart is disturbed in its distinct obligatory consideration of the requirements of the present, since its aims are divided.4 Anxiety reckons falsely, for it is founded on a false estimate of life. In order to unlearn the pernicious reckoning of anxiety, men must reckon correctly according to the thoughts of God; they must reckon in the following manner: He who gives life that is so valuable, will also give the nourishment for it that is less valuable; He who gives the body, will provide the clothing that is less important; He who feeds the fowls of heaven that live in the open air of heaven, that neither sow nor reap, will provide food for His human family, who yet, with all their anxiety, cannot add to the essential measure of their life, in any of its relations, so much as a cubit;1 He who so gloriously adorns the lilies that grow wild in the fields, that neither toil nor spin, will much rather clothe men; He who so urgently holds out to man the kingdom of God and His righteousness as the highest object, will give in addition to him, as he may need, all lesser things, which vanish in the comparison. And as a man is certain of his existence to-day, in its full, clear, sharp reality, with all the troubles of the day, so ought he still more to commit himself confidently to God for the morrow, which rests entirely in the bosom of His providence, and the troubles of which he cannot and should not know. A man must expect that the following day will take care of its own, and will bring with it its peculiar earthly troubles and its peculiar heavenly aids. Thus he should reckon according to truth with the unlimited cheerfulness of trust in God, and not gloomily according to an erroneous fancy, as the heathen are wont to reckon, because for them there is no treasure in heaven. But it ought to be the first care of the present day to seek first after the kingdom, and most decidedly to seek after the righteousness of this kingdom. Let the Christian thus seek to live according to righteousness, and it will be found that in doing so he provides for all the affairs of life, and that he will receive all the good things of life according to his need. Along with the obscuration of man’s vital energy towards God, which shows itself in anxiety, is ever more developed the last corruption of religious life in pharisaical righteousness, since on the one side it unfolds a fanaticism which always judges harshly of others, while on the other side it falls into an increasing carnal administration and waste of holy things. And as that monastic disposition has a polarized connection with anxious worldliness, so also this judicial fanaticism is connected with this desecration of holy things.2 The Lord opens His representation of that propensity to judge with the dehortation, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged!’ God always lets man, in His administration, experience the consequences of his own principles, of his own doings.3 As he judges, is he judged; therefore, for example, the Jew who has always condemned the heathen as a child of darkness, has been covered through all ages of the Church with the ban of contempt, and is now regarded by the converted heathen as an unenlightened half-heathen. And as a man attributes goodness to others, is it measured to him; therefore, for example, the secret order which has made Christian toleration from the first its watchword, has always enjoyed a decided toleration in the modern European States. But this is the way with the fanatic: he sees the splinter in his brother’s eye, and is not aware of the beam in his own eye. In the little faults of his brother which bedim his eye, he sees a dangerous hurt, he calls upon him to submit to his rude attempt at curing it, while he himself is in a far worse state of blindness. And this blindness is shown in the profanation and waste of sacred things. He gives what is holy, the priestly food, the sacrificial meat,1 to the dogs; for example, the assurance of the forgiveness of sins, the Gospel absolution to the most impure men,-he deals out what is holy without regulating it by the conditions of the law, of church discipline, and of repentance. He throws pearls, as if they were acorns,2 before swine; before the most brutish, the most stupid men, sunk in sensuality, he casts the most precious pearls-perhaps the honourable distinctions of orthodoxy, good churchmanship, and a title to heaven, or the communication of the most glorious mysteries of the kingdom of heaven and of Christian experience; he distributes, therefore, Christ’s noble treasures without protecting these goods by the instrumentality of the Spirit, of instruction, and of consecration.3 But when the adherents of pharisaical righteousness have gone such lengths, they have made the whole descent from the pure heights of the law to the very abyss of corrupt injunctions. And now judgment begins to break forth fearfully. The impure spirits and profligates, as scoffers at religion, tread the wasted treasures under their feet; at last they turn round malignantly upon their unspiritual and unintelligent leaders, they make a revolution (στραφέντες), and in the fanaticism of unbelief they tear in pieces the depraved servants of the sanctuary. Just as the disciples of Jesus, in their mountain-ascent along the path of true righteousness, come at last by the inner ways of the spirit to the bright height of Christ, to the company of the prophets, to the vision of God; so these, in their descent to the valley along the way of false righteousness, in dead outward observances, at last reach the abyss among brutalized men, where the ruin of their disordered nature is completed. After the Lord in these two divisions of His discourse had pointed out the great equalization which takes place in His kingdom, in the third part He gives instructions how to avoid the false way, and to proceed in the true way. The first condition is a most decided striving of the spirit after true righteousness, especially in prayer. His disciples were to attain the right mark by asking, by seeking, by knocking; that is, by a progressive, continually more distinct, more urgent, and more humble craving for eternal righteousness with God. They could not possibly seek this righteousness with God in vain. Christ so expresses Himself on this subject, that we feel He could not sufficiently inculcate it on His disciples. It is invariably so, He means to say: he who asks receives, he who seeks finds, to him that knocks it will be opened, as a rule, because these strivers follow an internal motive; but how much more does this hold good in the striving of human souls upwards! This certainty the Lord illustrates by a comparison. No father would meet the request of his child with trickery, and hand him a stone for bread, a serpent for a fish; he gives him the good thing that he needs. So fatherhood does credit to itself among sinful men. How much more must the child on earth be certain that his Father in heaven will not disregard his holy importunity! Then follows the exhortation: ‘Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.’1 These words appear not to stand in the right connection with the following. But this appearance is deceptive. It arises from this, that the exhortation forms a section by itself, and that its relation to the rest is so little developed. But it sketches the second means of attaining true righteousness, that it consists in right conduct towards men; while the first section represented the first means, in right conduct towards God. Hence the form of transition is explained, ‘All things therefore’ (πάντα οὖí). What man seeks with God, that He finds with Him. And so he will at last find with men what he expects from them, if he trusts them, and therefore attests and proves it. He trusts God for divine things, and seeks them with Him in a divine life through religion as a petitioner. He is to trust men for human things, and must accordingly seek them with them by evincing to them the pure human of humanity. He is to seek the peace of God by praying, and the peace of his neighbour by bringing his peace to his neighbour. In the former case he must feel himself within the heart of God by the feeling of his own need; in the latter, within the heart of his neighbour, by the feeling of his own wishes. If a man makes it the law of his life to hold himself in living unity with his fellow-men, to transport himself everywhere into their situation, to feel and advocate their interests in his heart, then he is under the attraction and on the path of that love in which the law and the prophets have originated on their human side, from which they set out, and in which they meet. True human noble-mindedness of this kind always stands in intimate communion with that thirsting after holiness which is manifested in importunate prayer. This is Christian endeavour constituted in its polarity. We are next taught the polarity of Christian avoidance, the two means of right negative conduct, of right precaution against the destructive path of error. The first rule is, that we do not allow ourselves to be carried away by the immense sympathetic attraction of the erring multitude, who are running to destruction through the wide gate and on the broad way, but that we keep ourselves free from that demoniac sympathy, and, sober-minded, free, and independent, proceed to life with the comparatively small company through the strait gate on the narrow way. The figurative exhortation of the Lord is founded on the spectacle of the egress from a city. The main body of the people go out by the principal gate on the broad highway, and bear away with them whatever is not independent. The wise, the independent man, finds a very small door in the wall which leads him by a difficult steep path to the heights where he finds the true enjoyment of life.1 As we are here first of all put on our guard against the mighty seductive influence which proceeds from the great crowds of the erring, so also by the second rule we are put on our guard against the company of false prophets, small, but operating with demoniacal powers. We may be easily deceived by them, since they come in sheep’s clothing; since they present themselves with the appearance of a correct creed and Christian zeal as members of the Church, while inwardly they are ravening wolves, actuated by a selfishness (Egoismus) which could sacrifice the whole Church to its interests, and propagate principles which must destroy it, as the irruption of wolves destroys the flock. But the Lord gives a palpable mark by which they may be known, namely, their fruits. Men do not gather grapes off thorns, nor figs2 off thistles; but as the plant, as the tree, so is the fruit. Thus, therefore, were the disciples to judge of the tree by the fruits, by the practice; that is, in this case especially, by the pretensions, doctrines, projects, and institutions of the false prophets, they were to judge of their character as well as of the purity of their knowledge. They were to judge by the sour, biting fruit of the sloe, by the unrefreshing, harsh dogma of the thorn; by the tenaciously, bur-like clinging, the obtrusive proselyte-making of the thistle. But deceptive marks might be confounded with the undeceptive. On this point Christ lays down the distinction: ‘Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord! Lord! shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.’ Only the most prejudiced aversion to the genuine confession of Christ can adopt the interpretation, that Christ Himself intended here to depreciate such a confession. But the mere confession is not an infallible sign; and if it becomes formal and garrulous, if a man is lavish with his expressions of homage, Lord! Lord! he makes himself suspected, and forces observers to examine more narrowly how far the will of the Father in heaven is fulfilled by him. In truth, it is possible for a man to prophesy formally or with reference to the cause of Christ, to express in glowing language Christian sentiments and feelings, or on the other hand to cast out demons, to correct morbid states of mind in individual cases, or in numbers, by impassioned energetic words, and to perform other works of power, without his having really entered into communion with Christ’s life, or made a decided surrender of himself to Him. And many such ardent but impure operations will in the day of retribution be placed in the right light; Christ will declare to pretentious prophets and wonder-workers of this sort, ‘I know you not! Depart from Me, ye who are prompted by lawlessness as your calling.’ The discourse delivered on the mountain-summit closes with a parabolic address, which depicts the decided opposition that exists between the true hearers of Christ’s sayings who fulfil them, and the light-minded who let them slip. This practical declaration, suited to the popular intelligence, formed probably the close of the plateau-discourse which Jesus addressed to the assembled multitude, and which we now have to consider. The Lord now quitted with His disciples the lofty mountain solitude where He had communicated to them the first principles of His doctrine and of His kingdom, and returned to the multitude who were waiting for Him on a plateau of the mountain-slope. In this circle also He wished to announce the equalizing principles of the kingdom of heaven, and for that reason delivered an address which repeated the former discourse in a modified form, adapted to a popular audience. The fundamental thought of the spiritual jubilee stands out in this discourse more forcibly than in the former. His auditory represents to Him the ancient community, with its inversion of all the eternal relations of right in temporal as well as in spiritual things. But in the spiritual foreground He finds His disciples in the poor, the hungry, the mourning, the despised, as they form the contrast to the rich, the full, those that laugh, those that men speak well of, who might also be then present. But of the outwardly afflicted as such He does not speak, but of men who, for His name’s sake, were hated, reviled, and excommunicated, specially for the Son of man’s sake, after whom they called themselves (Luke 6:22). In this one suffering for Christ’s sake, that threefold suffering has its climax which the Lord pronounces blessed, as in the Sermon on the Mount. The seven beatitudes find their unity in the eighth, which is identical with the ninth. That Christ could not bless the outwardly poor abstractly considered, even not in the apprehension of our Evangelists, must of itself be understood as reasonable. Or, ought He then to have seen the weeping in those that were actually defiling their faces with tears, and given them the consolation that a future hearty laughing in a literal sense would be their blessedness? There are, to be sure, critics who are on the look-out for such absurdities. But, on the other hand, Christ did not mean exclusively and simply, spiritually poor, hungry, and mourning. There are, indeed, spiritually poor persons who are outwardly rich and temporally poor, who stand before God in the self-deception of internal riches: both classes at once find themselves placed here, if we attribute a divine spirit to the discourse of Jesus, or to the account of the Evangelists; namely, the outwardly rich find themselves among the poor, and the outwardly poor among the rich of the Gospel. But there is also a region where this dualism vanishes, where the inward want coincides with the outward, the inward sorrow with the outward unhappiness, a region of holy unhappiness that will lead to the highest salvation, and this is the preparatory school-the seminary of Christianity. To this seminary of His disciples, in which the earlier agency of the unsearchable God, who breaks the hearts of His chosen ones, had prepared the way for the new work of the compassionate Redeemer, who was to heal just such hearts, Jesus turns Himself; and He knew that they immediately understood Him, since they had already eaten their bread in the tears of divine mourning, and were ripe for the Gospel. An Ebionitish poor man, who fancies that his poverty in this world gives him a right to the riches of the future world, is a spiritually proud beggar; such an one cannot be here intended. Nor the carnally-minded poor of any kind whatever, who are rich in resentment, envy, covetousness, and generally in the indulgence of their passions. But where distress of whatever kind is transformed into calm, gentle, pure longing before the throne of the divine fulness; where want does not produce rapacity, but has for its effect pure hunger, the painful feeling of destitution, inward and outward; where the weeper drops a true, genuine human tear, in which the eternal Sun is reflected and transforms it into a pearl,-there is Christ ready with the Gospel: and that such sufferers are ripe for Him is shown by this, that they willingly receive Him, adhere firmly to Him, and allow all men to hate, cast out, and reject them, for His name’s sake. They are blessed together, and are now to know, experience, and enjoy it from the lips of Christ. And as their distress was greatly hallowed, so also is their blessedness: to these poor is promised the kingdom of God,-to these hungry ones, fulness or satisfaction,-to those that weep, laughter.1 In truth, although isolated, they are driven out from the world, under the heaviest burdens of the cross, into the night of shame and death for Christ’s sake: it is they who immediately exult with heavenly delight, who already begin here the choral dance of a blessed community enclosed in God, and yonder, in the new world, celebrate the great jubilee with their associates, the prophets of the kingdom of God, who before them had experienced the same destiny. But opposite to them stand the fortunate ones of ancient time, who occupy a lower place by the equalization of the spiritual jubilee;-obtuse rich men, outwardly and inwardly at ease, comfortable in their superabundance, who enjoyed their comfort, and have changed it into discomfort; the overfilled, whose hunger reappears in a demoniacal surfeit; laughers, from whose merry jubilee already sounds forth the woe of an endless discord. These men form the class of those who are praised by all the world, the celebrities of the day, who are at once conceivable to the extremest superficiality of the worldly mind, and are intelligible from a distance; they are the heroes of the hour, celebrated as were formerly the false prophets, whose names are known no longer. In these men Christ does not find His seminary, and the woe which He pronounces upon them is the authentication of a fact; it is one with their situation itself, a progressive inward and outward world of endless woe. Yet His disciples are not to stand proudly aloof from that circle. In these relations they must rather show that they are Christians. Hence the Lord now proceeds to deliver exhortations which express the high demonstrations of love, particularly in the love of enemies, which the Christian spirit can render, and ought to render. These exhortations the Lord has not here connected with an express criticism on the pharisaic maxims, for the people at large were not yet ripe to bear such an exposure. But a tacit criticism lies in the very words themselves. First of all, the Lord gives directions for right conduct in love. Love conquers all enmity, since it encounters its evil weapons with the weapons of light. It meets enmity in general as energetic love; and in particular, deeds of hatred with deeds of beneficence, and so on. Then follow directions how men are to endure, to exercise patience in love. The fundamental law is this: in the Christian spirit of glory a divine power of endurance is to be unfolded, which rises above and puts to shame all the persecuting power of hatred. The two first directions we are also taught in the former discourse; the third, ‘Of him that taketh away thy goods, ask them not again,’ will indeed establish a Christian law of superannuation which must put an end to the innumerable contentions which proceed from lawful protestations against inveterate and ancient wrongs in political, ecclesiastical, and civil relations. Then follows the establishment of lofty precepts by the canon, ‘As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.’ But if a man knows himself, he must find that, after all, he expects and requires from his neighbour those high proofs of Christian love; consequently he ought to render them. In this way, he must prove himself to be a child of the Divine Spirit. For the canon, that we love those that love us, already exists in the natural constitution of man. ‘What thank have ye?’ the Lord asks,-what gain, what spiritual victory, what blessing of God, is there in such a love which is to be found even among sinners, the servants of sin? He does not here hold up the publicans as an example; perhaps less out of regard to the presence of publicans among His hearers, than to the popular odium against them. Sinners also, He says, do good to those who do good to them, and lend to those who return the loan. On such grounds, therefore, they would always find themselves in the kingdom of natural selfishness, not in that kingdom of love in which man overcomes himself. When a man enters this kingdom, when his love begins to embrace his enemy, and his lending begins to change itself into a free gift, into a permanent benefit, then he becomes like God, who evinces His goodness even to the unthankful and to the evil, and his reward is great. It is his satisfaction that he has favour (χάρις) from God. He will then find the highest blessedness in being one with God in His world-embracing love. His chief characteristic is mercy, as the Father is merciful. He judges not: he judges not the individual; and judges not absolutely. He condemns not: he establishes no tribunal of condemnation in his zeal for what is holy. He leaves judging to the judges and tribunals appointed by God, and condemnation to the Judge of the world, whose justice is ever identical with His mercy. But not only in what he avoids, but in what he does, he evinces this mercy. He forgives, he cheerfully absolves, when he is injured in his personality, and has anything to absolve. He gives: he gives to his neighbour whenever he has something to bestow, cheerfully in the most abundant measure; and so everything comes back to him marvellously,-the absolution as well as the gift; and full measured returns fall into his bosom, ‘pressed down, shaken together, and running over.’ Upon this the Lord closes His plateau-discourse with corresponding parables. The first shows so plainly with what caution He treated the people on account of their submissive relation to the Pharisees: ‘Can the blind lead the blind? Shall they not both fall into the ditch?’ That befell the Jews under the guidance of the Pharisees and scribes, and the latter with the former. At the destruction of Jerusalem, they fell together into the ditch of an unheard-of ignominy and misery, into the foulest, deepest quagmire of the world. Without doubt Christ had these blind ones in His eye. For ‘the disciple is not above his master,’ He adds. If he is perfect, he is exactly as his master; the disciples of the Pharisees are Pharisees themselves. The same subject is continued in the second parable. The pharisaic spirit is precisely that judicial spirit which always busies itself with the splinter in his brother’s eye, while he never detects the beam in his own eye. The third parable treats of the tree, how it must be known by its fruit. As the tree bears the fruit which is peculiar to it from its own sap and pith, so man brings forth the fruit of his life from his heart; it comes forth in the words of his mouth from the overflow (περίσσευμα), the over-pressure or spiritual productiveness, of his heart. And these ever acrid words of the Pharisees and scribes-these fault-findings, and provisoes, and maxims, and conditions, and curses-are they not as distasteful as the sloes on the thorn-bush? Who would take these fruits for the proper life-fruit of the theocracy-for the figs, the choice traveller’s food-for the grapes that cheer the heart of man in the kingdom of love? The Lord now impresses on the people, that if they would call Him Lord! Lord! they must also keep His words; in this way they must decide for Him. This is enforced in the parabolic words with which Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount is concluded, which exhibit the contrast of the wise man who built his house upon a rock, and of the foolish man who built his house upon the sand. This prophetic parable is fulfilled everywhere in individual life, in the contrast between the true believer and the pseudo-believer or unbeliever. But it is fulfilled on the large scale in the contrast between the carnal and the spiritual Church, into which Israel was divided in reference to the words of Jesus; and without doubt Jesus consciously pointed here to the unfolding of this world-historical contrast. The true disciples of Jesus are represented by the wise man. They have dug deep, in order to lay the foundation of their house. They have laid it in the depths of bearing the cross and renunciation of the world, on the solid rock of God’s faithfulness and Christ’s conflict and victory. And the great world-storm has come with winds and torrents of rain, and in beating on the house has proved its stability: it is firmly fixed, a strong fortress. On the contrary, the foolish man built his house on a loose unstable soil, on sand. Thus built the carnal community in Israel: they also heard the sayings of Christ, but kept them not. It was rendered evident by the critical storm that their house had no foundation. When the great world-storm beat upon it, and shook its foundation, immediately it fell; and the fall of that house was great, a world-appalling event. Just as this similitude was fulfilled in the contrast of the spiritual and the carnal Israel, so must its fulfilment everywhere be repeated, where the contrast of a spiritual and a secularized church comes to maturity. But the similitude is fulfilled generally by individuals, either on its joyful or its dreadful side. It is perhaps difficult to ascertain how far, by evangelical tradition, shorter passages have been transferred from the discourse in Matthew’s Gospel to that in Luke’s or inversely. The possibility of such transferences is shown by the passages in which the second discourse agrees verbally with the first. But it is not to be overlooked, that not only has the second the peculiar colouring of Luke’s mode of compiling and exhibiting the Gospel history, but that it also forms a complete unity-the unity, too, of a discourse which perfectly corresponds with its object. It is evidently a discourse to the people, in which the references to the Pharisees and publicans, as they are found in the former discourse, are with the highest wisdom couched in more general terms, as was suited to the spiritual stand-point of the people, without giving up a particle of the truth. The disciples of Jesus, therefore, received with the twofold discourse of the Lord at the same time a living specimen of His heavenly wisdom in teaching, which is one with the highest courage of the preacher, and which they so much needed in after times. The discourse of Jesus also here again made a powerful impression on the people; for He taught them as one who had authority (the living power of teaching), and not as the scribes. Having ended His discourse, He quitted the last declivity of the mountain, and the people streamed after Him. We cast a glance back at the consecrated height, and inquire what point it might have been which the Lord thus rendered illustrious. The Latin tradition has designated the ‘Horns of Hattin, between Mount Tabor and Tiberias, as the Mount of Beatitudes.’ In respect of its position and configuration, this mountain may well represent the site of both discourses. It lies in a south-westerly direction about two German miles from Capernaum. As Jesus was now engaged in travelling through Galilee, He might easily come to this precise point on His way back to Capernaum. In its form, the mountain is a low ridge or saddle with two points or horns. The mental contemplation of that evangelical mountain-scene might easily transfer the confidential discourse of Jesus to one of those points, and the public discourse to a grassy spot on the mountain-ridge.1 But Robinson has plainly shown that there is no evidence to support this tradition, which is found only in the Latin Church. The first written notice of it is by Brocardus, in the thirteenth century, who also mentions the same mountain as the scene of the feeding of the five thousand; which only renders it more obscure. Yet there are no positive reasons against the supposition that this mountain was the hallowed site where the two discourses were delivered. It would, indeed, be remarkable in the highest degree, if exactly on this spot Jesus had uttered the words, ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth (or land),’-the same spot, namely, where the power of the Christian Crusaders was broken by a terrible defeat inflicted upon them by the Sultan Saladin, in the battle of Hattin, on the fifth of July, a.d. 1187, so that in consequence of it they lost the Holy Land. Exactly at the last moment the combatants retreated to the summit of Mount Hattin; and here they were overpowered by the Saracens, after they had a short time before assembled round the cross.2 At all events, in this very district so many great battles, renowned in the history of the world, were fought, where Christ pronounced His true disciples blessed, as the meek, the merciful, and the peacemakers. Neander supposes, without sufficient reason, that Jesus delivered this discourse on His return from one of His journeys to the feasts. And even then it is not sufficiently accounted for, when he supposes that the mountain was in the vicinity of Capernaum, and that Jesus, after passing a night on the mountain, and had given another discourse in the morning, returned thence to Capernaum. We might suppose this, according to Matthew’s representation, though even Matthew places the healing of a leper between the Sermon on the Mount and the entrance of Jesus into Capernaum. But this incident is fully narrated by the other Evangelists, in a manner which we cannot fail to perceive is a complementary representation. On the way back from that Galilean mountain, Jesus (according to Luke 5:12) came to one of the cities which He intended to visit, and, though in its immediate vicinity, was solicited by a leper that He would heal him. The man was full of leprosy (πλήρης λέπρας), and according to the law dare not come near Him; he therefore cried to Him for relief from a distance, but then ran and fell on His knees before Him, exclaiming,’ Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean!’ And Jesus had compassion upon him, and His compassion impelled Him to put out His hand and touch him with the kingly word, ‘I will,-be thou clean!’ And as He spoke, the leprosy was seen to depart from him. The white appearance of the leprosy broke out upon him. the sign of healing (Leviticus 13:1-59, Leviticus 14:1-57) The man was cleansed; but Jesus in the fervour of His compassion had touched him, before he was cleansed; and this might be interpreted, according to the Levitical statute, as having defiled Himself. He ventured to take upon Himself this appearance; for thus He appeared to defile Himself on the great scale with sinful humanity by coming into the most intimate contact with it until it brought Him to death, while in fact He sanctified humanity by this communion. But because it might appear that he had become unclean according to the statute, while the leper had become pure, He must withdraw from Him. He sent him away from Himself with a strong emotion,1 since He charged him to take care that he told no Man 1:2 how he had been healed, but to go and show himself to the priest, and bring the offering of purification ordained by Moses, in order to obtain the legal attestation to his restored purity.3 But the man violated the command when he left Him, and announced in the city what had happened to him. He proclaimed it far and wide; probably he also mentioned his having been touched by Jesus. The consequence of this publication of the cure was, that the Lord could no longer carry out His intention of going freely and publicly into that4 city, since He felt Himself bound to spare the legal spirit of the people. In order, therefore, to occasion no disturbance in the social relations of the city by the Levitical scruples which the law of purification brought with it, He turned back and sought a desert place, perhaps in order to perform a sort of Levitical quarantine, not according to the spirit of the law, but according to the interpretation which might be put upon it by Levitical casuists. He devoted this time to solitary prayer. But while He on His part paid respect to the morbid legal spirit of the people, the spirit of His evangelical freedom continued to operate among them, among whom the narrative of the leper, of the miraculous cure he had experienced, was spread abroad. This was shown by the result, that the sufferers did not trouble themselves about the circumstance of His having touched the leper, but thronged to Him from all quarters to seek His aid. Thus the period of the retirement of Jesus passed away, and He returned back to Capernaum. notes 1. In the above representation I believe that I have satisfactorily explained the original difference of the two Sermons on the Mount in connection with their remarkable affinity. This affinity is accounted for, (1.) from the fact, that the announcement of the year of the spiritual jubilee is at the basis of the two discourses; (2.) from the inducement Jesus had to communicate to His disciples in a more restricted sense, as well as to the wider circle of disciples, the main outlines of His kingdom in a similar form as far as possible; (3.) from the blending of some elements of the second discourse, particularly the conclusion, with the first, which takes place in Matthew’s account. That original difference, on the other hand, is explained from the necessity which influenced the Lord, in the discourse to the people, to have regard not only to the pharisaic element in the larger circle of disciples, but also to the judaizing hearers who were more estranged from His own spirit; and it is proved on this supposition by the fact, that the discourses, as pure, compact, organic structures, exactly correspond to these definite different objects. We see, therefore, in this relation of the affinity and diversity of the two discourses, not the repetitions of a ‘poverty-struck’ speaker, but the management of the most richly furnished and skilful master-spirit, to whom it might appear quite suitable to pour forth the fulness of His spirit in reiterated allied forms of speech, since he could not have the interest of a common speaker, to veil the proper measure of the actual amount of thought in its contractedness by the act of rhetorical transformation. 2. That a view of the world so inadequate, paltry, and external as the Ebionitish-of which the leading tenet was, that whoever had his position in this life would go destitute into the next, but whoever renounced earthly riches would thereby acquire heavenly treasures-must be foreign not only to Christianity, but to Judaism, and therefore likewise to the transition from Judaism to Christianity, ought to occur at once to every one who possesses some familiarity with the New and Old Testaments. The true Israelite could not adopt this tenet, since he regarded himself as the son of Abraham, his opulent and yet pious ancestor, not only in a bodily but in a spiritual respect, and since he held sacred the promises of temporal blessings which were given so abundantly to the pious in the Old Testament. But Christianity could still less begin its course with so paltry and preposterous a maxim, since from the first it came forward in diametric opposition to all sanctimonious performances, penances, monkish austerities, and misanthropic renunciation of the world, as meritorious in God’s sight, and immediately numbered not only the poor but the rich among its professors. How an element so heterogeneous, originating in a totally different view of the world, could find its way into the centre of the transition of one religion into the other, is simply inconceivable. But, from the first, Ebionitism showed itself to be a barren border-land of expiring Judaism and Jewish Christianity, in which the theocratic religious feeling was mingled, as in the kindred Essenism, with the elements of a dualistic and pantheistic heathenish view of the world and asceticism. It has been also attempted to find in the Apostle James traces of that supposed Ebionitism which some have fancied they have discovered in the second Sermon on the Mount especially. But this supposition is contradicted by the passage in James 1:10. Here the fact is recognized, that the same person may be a Christian and a rich man; and such an one is not exhorted to throw away his riches, but to humble himself in spirit, and to be rightly conscious of the transitoriness of these outward possessions. It is evident, moreover, from the passage in James 2:1, &c., that in the Christian societies to which James wrote, there was danger of giving preference to the non-professing rich men who entered their assembly, and of slighting the poor, which would not have been the case had these societies adopted Ebionitish views. Or would any one suppose James agreed in this view of the world with those societies whom yet he corrected? But when he inveighs against that sinful preference of the rich to the poor, it is throughout in an ethical, never in a superstitious tone. He never reproaches the rich for being rich, but that they are in general opposers of Christianity (James 2:7)-that they placed their trust in riches-that they defrauded the labourers-that they wasted in luxury what belonged to the poor, but oppressed and despised the pious (James 5:1). A similar ‘Ebionitism’ to this of James often lets its voice be heard again in our times, though in general it does not appear with a religious and moral purity of spirit like that of James; and very soon the second Sermon on the Mount, like the Epistle of James, might easily come into special honour, although grievously misinterpreted and abused. But this is evident, that the criticism in question, with the protection with which it has favoured the rich, man in the parable, as generally with its hunting out Ebionitism in the New Testament, has already perceptibly fallen behind the progress of the spirit of the age. Compare on this point the admirable remarks of Schliemann, die Clementinen, &c., p. 377. Also the general proof, that it has been charged most unjustly on the ancient Church, and from the beginning was regarded in the Church as heresy, p. 409, &c. 3. As to the relation of the parallel passages which occur to the first Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, in the second in Luke, and here and there in the latter, as well as in Mark, the apparent confusion in which, to some, they are involved (see Strauss, i. 614), is in part explained by the foregoing remarks, and indeed (i.) by the difference pointed out in the two discourses, to which (ii.) the circumstance is owing, that Luke could introduce in other places those exhortations of Jesus which belonged especially to the disciples. This is particularly the case with the Lord’s Prayer, Luke 11:1-4; with the exhortation to prayer, Luke 11:9-13; with the parable, Luke 11:34-36; as well as with the warning against heathenish anxiety, Luke 12:22-31. It is, indeed, very conceivable that several of the sentences of the first Sermon on the Mount which recur in the other Evangelists, were repeated by the Lord in other connections; as, for example, the sayings in Mark 9:50; Luke 12:34; Luke 13:24; Luke 16:13; Luke 16:17-18. But single passages might also be first brought by the Evangelist into another connection; as, for example, Luke 12:58. As to the passages in question, particularly in relation to Strauss (i. 606) and Schneckenburger (Beitrage, p. 58), it will be seen how far this connection, even in a spiritual relation, can be marked as insufficient, or be placed partially under the category of ‘lexical connection.’ 4. The Sermon on the Mount, as the pure, spiritual, fundamental law of the New Testament kingdom of God, may be compared with other forms of religious and moral legislation. The comparison of this new form of the eternal law with the Mosaic, as well as with the pharisaic maxims, lies in the representation of it, therefore in the sermon itself. It appears, namely, as a harmonious development of the former (not as a correction of it, which would be altogether against Christ’s express declaration); as a cutting, decided antagonism against the latter. On the relation of the statements of the Sermon on the Mount to heathen morals, Tholuck has adduced many illustrations in his excellent Commentary. Stier, in his Words of the Lord Jesus, i. 172, has made some striking remarks on the false application of the Sermon on the Mount to political relations; as, for example, by the Quakers and other sects, and more lately in the evangelical Church, in reference to the political law of marriage. 5. It has been a controversy of long standing, how far the Lord’s Prayer is an original creation of Jesus, or a composition from materials already known. Tholuck has discussed this question at length in his Commentary, under the title of ‘Sources from which the Lord’s Prayer may have been derived,’ p. 322. According to Herder, Richter, Rhode, and others, the prayer must have been taken from the Zendavesta. This hypothesis is regarded by Tholuck as exploded. It belongs, indeed, originally to the category of those hypotheses in which the difference of national mental character in the ancient world, and especially the characteristic differences of the religious systems, was utterly misunderstood. The case is different as to the derivation of this prayer from the old Jewish and rabbinical prayers of the synagogue. Tholuck himself remarks that the collections of prayers, of which the Jews still make use (called îÇçÀæåÉø), contain striking prayers, borrowed both in thought and expression from the Old Testament. ‘And why might not the Saviour have collected and combined the best petitions of those well-known prayers?’ (p. 323). But he finds, in conclusion, that only similarities can be pointed out, which give no ground for supposing ‘that the Lords Prayer originated from the rabbinical prayers.’ Von Ammon, in his of the Life of Jesus (Geschichte des Lebens Jesu, ii. 76), reverts to these similarities very fully. The address, in Heaven, he says, is frequently found in the Mishna. But it has been justly remarked that Christ needed not to take this address from the Mishna. As to the first petition, it is noticed that in the Kaddish, one of the oldest morning prayers of the ancient synagogue, it is said, Thy name be highly exalted and honoured (hallowed). As to the second petition, the Kaddish has again éîìéê îìëåúéä regnare faciat regnum suum, followed by the words, His redemption bloom; may the Messiah appear. Manifestly the first petition in the Lord’s Prayer is reduced from an indefinite feeling to a clearly defined thought, and the second is essentially altered. This represents the kingdom of God as one still coming; the Jew, in his prayer, assumes that it is one already existing. The sentences adduced in reference to the third petition-His name be glorified on earth as it is glorified in heaven; and fulfil Thy will above in heaven, and give Thy worshippers rest of spirit on earth-are manifestly very different from the third petition. The analogy to the fourth petition taken from the Gemara is very interesting. Thy people Israel much, but their insight is little. Therefore, may it please Thee, O God, to give to every individual what he needs for life, and as much to every body as is necessary for it. These words may certainly be applied to the exposition of the fourth petition. Had the Lord already found this formula, it might be said that the fourth petition bore the same relation to it as a finished creation to a world in process of formation. For the fifth petition the author has only quoted this sentence from the Mishna: God blot the sins against his neighbour only when the transgressor has reconciled himself with his neighbour; also the petition from a Jewish liturgy of an undetermined date, us, O Father, for all have sinned. As to the sixth and seventh petitions it is said, ‘In the seventh and tenth petitions of the eighteen blessings, the subject spoken of is expressly the many afflictions and scatterings of the Jews in their dispersion, and then the hope of their near redemption, when the trumpet shall sound to bring them back to their own land.’ This manifestly presents no definite analogy. Also an ascription of praise similar to the doxology is found, according to the author, ‘not only in other Jewish prayers, but also in the eighteen blessings.’ He looks upon this as a reason why the critical examination respecting the doxology in Matthew should not be considered as finally settled. In the relation of the prayer of Jesus to the rabbinical similarities adduced, we see at least the common participation of the two forms in a theocratic religion. Moreover, the Lord’s Prayer is related to these similarities, in their scattered state, as a piece of pure gold to a piece of ore containing gold but in very small quantities. We cannot here speak of a mere collection, nor of a mere composition, nor indeed of a mere reproduction. For, apart from the scattered state of these similarities, definite parallels are altogether wanting to some petitions, and even the more definite analogies are here found in a new form. But we see from the comparison that the fundamental thoughts of the ancient Jewish devotion are concentrated in the purest gold form in the devotions of Jesus, while in the rabbinical synagogues they are lost in discursive expressions, so that the Lord’s Prayer is as exactly related to these similarities as Christianity itself in general is related to Talmudism. 6. ‘Legally, fasting among the Jews on the great festival of Atonement was from evening to evening (Leviticus 16:29), and traditionally (Taanit. iii. § 8) in autumn, when the rainy season had not begun and the sowing seemed in danger. But since the conservatives (Stabilitatsmänner) or rigorists held it to be meritorious, they fasted twice (Luke 18:12), or even four times in the week (Taanit iv. § 3); they appeared in the synagogue negligently dressed, pale, and gloomy, in order to make the meritoriousness of their maceration visible to every one.’-Von Ammon, p. 81. 7. On the disease of leprosy, compare the article relating to it in Winer’s R. W. B. 8. Since the bad tree, δενδρον σαπρον (ver. 17), had been already characterized by thorns and thistles as plants which belong to that class, we cannot understand by it either a tree that bears no fruit, or an old half-dead tree which often bears good fruit, but rather a degenerate or wild-growing tree. See V. Ammon, ii. 103. According to this, the expression is significant, and testifies that Christ recognized a depravation in nature (corresponding to the ethical evil in the world) which showed itself specially in the nature of thorns and thistles. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 95: 02.098. SECTION XIII ======================================================================== Section XIII the return of jesus from his tour through galilee. the centurion of capernaum. the candidates for discipleship. the second discourse on the sea-shore. the crossing the sea to gadara, and the return home (Matthew 8:5-13; Matthew 8:18-34; Matthew 9:11; Matthew 13:1-58. Mark 4:1-41; Mark 5:1-21; Luke 7:1-10; Luke 8:14-15; Luke 8:22-39; Luke 9:57-62) On His entrance into Capernaum, Jesus found Himself anxiously expected by one who needed His help, and who, on account of his extraordinary faith, has obtained everlasting renown in the Gospel history as The Centurion of Capernaum. We can hardly imagine, as has been already observed,1 a greater contrast between two characters than that which is presented to us between this centurion who sought help for his sick servant and that nobleman who came to the Lord on behalf of his son.2 That nobleman wanted the Lord to take a journey of some distance to Capernaum; he seemed impetuously to seek in Him merely a Saviour for the body; and as his humility did not at once show itself, so it seemed to the Lord that his faith was at first doubtful. The centurion, on the contrary, from the very first appears remarkably strong as well in the humility as in the faith which he exhibited. And this great spiritual difference between the two men is quite in accordance with the treatment which they received at the hand of Jesus. Whilst He was at first very slow in responding to that nobleman, and expresses His doubts respecting the sincerity of his faith, He is here at once willing to come and to help; and soon He has occasion loudly to extol the faith of this Gentile, and to hold him up before the Israelites as an example which might well put them to shame. Thus throughout the spiritual features of the two narratives are quite distinct. It is evident that Luke gives the more exact account of this transaction. We learn from Matthew that the centurion’s servant ‘lay sick of a palsy, grievously tormented.’1 Luke tells us that he was ‘ready to die;’ and we learn likewise from him that this centurion’s servant was dear unto his master. The first Evangelist tells us in general terms that he applied to the Lord for help; from the third Evangelist we learn that he was encouraged to do so by others, and that he made use of an honourable embassy to send to the Lord. He engaged the elders of the synagogue at Capernaum to go to meet the Wonder-worker, and desire Him to come down. These pleaded his cause very earnestly, and sought to give additional weight to it by adding, that he loved the Jews, and had built them a synagogue; from which we may well conclude that he was a proselyte of the first degree, that is, a Proselyte of the Gate. But immediately afterwards the heart of this lowly man was struck with remorse at having given this honoured Deliverer of men the trouble of coming to his house. He immediately despatched a second embassy to Jesus, with the declaration that he was not worthy that Jesus should enter under his roof, or even admit him to come into His presence, and entreating that He would cure his servant by a word of power spoken at a distance. He might, perhaps, have heard of the healing at a distance which had fallen to the share of the nobleman’s son, and very likely had explained the wonderful character of this deed according to his own fashion. At any rate, he had a reason to give for his petition, in which was contained the most delicate and hearty fealty to the Lord. He founds his petition upon the remark that he himself was a man holding authority under a higher power. But yet he had to command his soldiers who were placed under him. This, in military language, he amplifies in a lively manner: ‘I say unto one, Go, and he goeth, and to another, Come, and he cometh.’ Then he comes back to his beloved servant: ‘And I say unto my servant, Do this, and he doeth it.’ He had an idea that just in this manner Jesus must act in the kingdom of the powers of healing, or of the genii of recovery and of help, and all the more, since that in His kingdom he had no superior. According to his declaration he considered Him as the real Caesar in the kingdom of the wonder-working powers of life, that is, in the kingdom of spirits. According to his view, all the genii of life were bound to obey the word of this great Caesar; by a word, then, He could send as His servant a genius of healing power to his own sick servant. This sublime and thoroughly original view of faith, coupled with as great a humility, astonished even the Lord Himself, and turning to His followers, He exclaimed: ‘I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel.’ He seized this opportunity to widen the view of the Gospel horizon for His disciples, by giving them the assurance ‘that many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven.’ Perhaps a later occasion gave rise to His expressing also the contrast (Luke 13:28-29): ‘But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ Jesus dismissed the embassy with the command to return to the house;1 that it should be done according to the faith of the centurion. On their return they found the sick servant already restored. The miraculous aid wrought by this word spoken at a distance was accomplished through a twofold drawing of sympathizing and awakened hearts, through a well-prepared road of warmest sympathy. An invisible highway, as one might say, for the victorious health-giving eagles of the great Emperor. Very soon the Lord was again surrounded by those who sought His help and desired to listen to His words. But it was not His intention at present to tarry again in Capernaum. He desired to carry His help also to the country lying on the other side of the sea, to that region of Northern Perea where the Jews lived in the midst of Gentiles, and much mixed up with them,-namely, in the district which belonged to the union of Decapolis, or the ten cities. The opportunity for making this journey was in the highest degree favourable. The faith of the heathen centurion had made an impression upon the disciples, so that just now they would have the least difficulty in entering into His plan of visiting such a mixed neighbourhood, where even the Jewish life was obscured by such mingling with Gentile life. But not even yet would the Lord forsake altogether the chosen people. Instead of that, again for the second time (Mark 4:1) He taught from the ship the multitude assembled on the sea-shore. He spoke to the people as one who was taking His leave of them, which must have heightened still more the effect of His words. But we find that His discourse now takes a new character. The crowd which surrounded Him had gradually very much increased; but it had now become of a very mixed character. Even in His second Sermon on the Mount, we saw Him make a marked difference between susceptible disciples and suspicious worldly followers.2 As hearers of this description now form a considerable part of His audience, and these being joined by a number even of disaffected, unfriendly listeners, the Lord feels that He must veil the real life-giving meaning of His discourse under the form of parables. This time He feels that it is now already quite clear that He is strongly opposed by a hostile spirit in His audience. Therefore He preaches in parables. It would seem that on this day He did not deliver all the parables which Matthew has grouped together in Matthew 13:1-58, but only some of them. The interpretation which, according to Matthew 13:10, He gave to the disciples He might have given them in the vessel immediately after delivering the parable, whilst He gave the people a longer pause to think over what He had said to them. The Parable of the Tares, on the contrary, according to Matthew 13:36, supposes another scene, and from its contents, likewise a later time. According to Mark’s narrative, Jesus spoke not only the Parable of the Sower on this day, but also the Parable of the gradual Development of the Seed, and finally that of the Mustard-seed. This discourse forms an entire whole. First, then, Jesus impresses upon His hearers that, in the sowing of His word, He does not find in them all the same susceptibility to receive it. He pointed even then to the noxious birds which already were devouring the seed fallen by the way-side, to the hostile principle by which He was counteracted, and which was ever increasing in strength. He showed them how that much that He should plant would perish in precipitate levity, and much in sluggish despondency. But He also expressed His assurance that He found amongst them some good ground. And now He comforted these thus ready to receive Him by assuring them that His seed in their life should not result immediately in flowers and fruit, but should first gradually develop itself. But to those who were in danger of being perplexed at the smallness of the number of His real disciples, He gave the true explanation of the marvellous increase of God’s kingdom in the parable of the mustard-seed. When the even was come, the Lord hastened to cross over to the eastern shore of the sea. But now some individuals, struck with especial veneration, stepped forth from the outer circle of disciples, and wished to bind themselves to full and unreserved discipleship (Matthew 8:19-22). The Evangelist Luke removes this occurrence to a later time, when Jesus was preparing for His last journey into Jerusalem (Luke 9:51-62). But it is easy to be seen that he was led to do so by the transaction which here occurred between Jesus and the two Sons of Thunder. Whilst it was his intention to exhibit the mastery of Christ in dealing with various kinds of minds, we may say of the four different temperaments he has made a psychological combination. But it is not likely that just at this time, when His cause appeared to be so doubtful, scribes of the character of this enthusiast should have wished to join themselves to the Lord with the expression of an enthusiasm which promised too much, and was therefore little to be relied upon. This moment, on the contrary, when Jesus was about to cross over into the country of the Gadarenes, was peculiarly favourable. The influence of Christ with the people was now at its height. Even the proposed expedition was rich in promise; only there was against it the scruples of an orthodox shrinking from contact with Gentiles. Therefore a scribe, who felt himself attracted by the prospect which discipleship to Jesus seemed to open, might easily make some merit of his being now ready to follow Him. Besides the Lord’s dealing with the sorrowful one who wanted first to bury his father, there certainly also belongs to this place His dealing with the hesitating one who desired to take a formal farewell of those who were at home in his house. As it is clearly an adherence to Jesus for an unreserved outward following of Him which is here spoken of, so it seems to be in fact a question of future claims to the apostolic office. And we are all the more driven to this conclusion, since a more indefinite adherence to Jesus would not readily have occasioned such a particular discussion concerning the outward proof of discipleship, and since, very soon after this occurrence, we learn that the Lord separated off His first circle of disciples. Perhaps, therefore, it would be well more accurately to ascertain the individuals here spoken of. But, first, we must put aside those apostles who had been already enlisted at an earlier period, thus: Andrew, John, Peter, James the elder, Nathanael or Bartholomew, and Philip. Now, if we recognize James the younger and Judas Lebbeus or Thaddeus to be the Lord’s brothers, who did not, we may believe, give in their adhesion to Jesus in so public and sudden a manner, and if, according to the supposition of ancient Church history,1 we leave the possibility as yet undisputed of Simon the Zealot being a third brother of the Lord, then certainly the names of Judas Iscariot, Thomas, and Matthew would come under consideration as the three candidates here spoken of. The first of these aspirants offered himself to Jesus as His follower with the forward and enthusiastic word, ‘Master, I will follow Thee whithersoever Thou goest!’2 But the word seems to inspire with no confidence the Master in the knowledge of souls. His answer is serious and full of warning: ‘The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have dwelling-places;3 but the Son of man hath not where to lay His head’ (either to sleep or to die)! Was it with these words, may we imagine, that Jesus replied to the offer of Judas Iscariot? We only know of him that he was the son of one Simon (John 6:71), apparently a man of Kerioth, of the tribe of Judah (Joshua 15:25). He might very likely have been a scribe, discharging his office in Galilee. Some people have thought the Lord’s answer to this candidate very strange.4 But that He might very possibly have spoken of foxes in a figurative sense, is shown by the message which He sent to the Galilean prince Herod (Luke 13:32). Many have marvelled how Jesus could have received amongst His disciples such a man as Iscariot. The passage before us might give us a key to this How. Here is a man who comes forward and enthusiastically declares that nothing shall separate him from Jesus, that he will and shall follow Him everywhere. Could Jesus altogether give the lie to the expression of such an enthusiastic self-surrender from so important a man? But that He meets him with a tone designed to test his character, and which seems to betray a feeling of mistrust, is evident. He means to say to him, that in connection with the needy Son of man, one should not, one might be sure, look for any earthly gain. The foxes even are better off than one could outwardly be with Him; they, at all events, have their holes. As concerning the birds of the air, we do not wish to attach any importance to the fact that, but a short time before, in the parable of the sower, He had spoken of birds in an evil sense, of the seed-destroying birds. But the expression, ‘the Son of man hath not where to lay His head,’ might very well have been spoken here in an especial presentiment of that moment when, in dying, He should have no pillow on which to support His head. Yet it certainly is remarkable that Jesus neither positively rejects this candidate, nor yet does He receive him with joyful sympathy. The second candidate is desired by Jesus Himself to follow Him. But he meets this request with words of sorrow and dejection: ‘Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father.’ Now, we can hardly imagine that this disciple wanted still to devote himself to the care of his aged father, so as not to become a follower of Jesus until after his death.1 It would have been senseless his promising to follow the Lord at such an uncertain period. Besides which, it would have been unfeeling to describe the care of an aged father by such an expression. The father of this man was therefore dead. His grave stood ready. But as Jesus was on the point of setting sail, this man must at once decide which he would do: either he must forego his personal attendance at the funeral, or else he must give up his departure with Jesus. But the melancholy, irresolute man could not bear to make the decision. He therefore begged for permission first to do the funeral honours to his father: perhaps he hoped thereby to effect a delay in Jesus’ departure. But the Lord met the grief of this honest man for the death of his relative with rebuking and encouraging decision: ‘Let the dead bury their dead; but go thou and preach the kingdom of God.’ Thus, in spite of his wavering, Jesus does not reckon this man amongst the spiritually dead, of which there were enough in Capernaum who remained at home to attend to the funerals there. In his sorrowful irresolution, he sees the valuable kernel of faithfulness, as perhaps in the flaring enthusiasm of the first aspirant He may have discerned the smoke of egotistical self-deceit. When, afterwards, the Lord was journeying towards Judea to go to the grave of Lazarus, Thomas uttered those mournful words, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him!’ And again, after Jesus’ resurrection, he could not again get free from the idea of His death, His grave. It would therefore have been quite in accordance with his character to have at first encountered the Lord in this manner, and if the Lord had even already now proclaimed to him the advance of victorious life over the graves of the dead. Concerning the third aspirant Matthew is altogether silent. This one said to Jesus: ‘Lord, I will follow Thee; but let me first go bid them farewell which are at home at my house.’ This request Jesus gently reproved in His reply as a mark of indecision: ‘No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.’ Soon after His return from the country of the Gadarenes, Jesus called Matthew from the receipt of custom. Immediately he rose up, left all, and followed Him (Luke 5:28). But he now prepared a great feast, at which he entertained the Lord in company with several publicans, of whom he now seemed to be taking leave as of his former professional comrades. Hence that third disciple reminds us of Matthew. Perhaps he would fain have made this great supper at once, before the departure for Gadara, in order immediately afterwards to follow the Lord. But Jesus could not approve of such a farewell feast, at which the young ploughman would have looked back unduly upon his old course of life, instead of looking forward, keeping his eye fixed on the plough, intent on serious labour in God’s field, which requires decided self-surrender and renunciation of the world,1-a farewell feast, therefore, calculated to hinder the work of the kingdom. Later, however, when circumstances so ordered it that this feast opened up for Jesus Himself a most appropriate sphere of labour, and when the disciple had proved by his deeds his determination to follow Him, then He gladly took part in such a feast. It is not said whether, notwithstanding, this third disciple followed Him. At all events, He was not yet decidedly received into the inner circle of disciples. Thus the disciples of Jesus were gathered together, apparently increased by the new companions whom Matthew mentions, and they at once proceed to depart. Jesus determined to set out just as He was. The vessel which bore Him was accompanied by other vessels. It, together with them, formed the little fleet of Christ’s increasing company. His fame now fills the whole country of Galilee; the anticipations and hopes of the disciples soared bright and vast away over the Galilean Sea. But a great trial was soon to shake this rising enthusiasm. A sudden mighty hurricane1 broke upon the sea and brought the vessels into danger. The billows dashed over the ship in which the disciples were; the water in the ship got higher and higher, until, as Mark tells us, it was near being full, or getting overloaded; and even the disciples, accustomed as they were to the sea, began to lose courage. It seemed to them that there was something especially fearful in this sudden storm. And if they thought now of Jonah’s voyage, when a storm of wind beat over the ship because he was flying from God, then the apprehension might have seized them, that perhaps there was an accursed thing in the breast of one of their companions in the ship, perhaps in that one who had entered last just as they were about to sail. But why should they commence any inquiry of this sort, when they could have recourse to the Master? They turned to Him in this trouble of their souls. They found Him lying in the hinder part of the vessel asleep on a pillow, as in the peaceful rest of childhood: the howling storm awoke Him not! And even the disciples’ cry of anguish, ‘Master, save us, we perish!’ filled Him with no alarm. With perfect composure He rebuked first the disciples for their faint-heartedness, then He rose up, and with His garments fluttering, full of majesty, confronting the storm like a second storm from heaven, He cried out into the din and whirl the holy word: ‘Peace, be still!’ He had uttered the word from the heart of God. The wind ceased, a great nocturnal calm was soon again spread over the sea. And as the night was restored to serenity and brightness, and seemed fain to array herself with festal splendour amid the glittering lights of the sky and the mirroring sea, so also peace and joy were restored to the souls of the disciples. But a great awe of Jesus had taken possession of them. ‘What manner of man is this,’ they inquired of one another, ‘that even the winds and the sea obey him?’ Thus it is likewise with the ship of the Church, in which the disciples of Christ traverse the world’s sea: it cannot go to the bottom, even if the spurious characters existing among disciples themselves should arouse the most dangerous storms, for He Himself is ever with them in the ship; His righteousness outweighs unrighteousness within the circle of His disciples. The direct mastery which Christ here exhibited over nature2 does not militate against the fact, that Christian humanity again obtains this mastery in the indirect way of the use of means; rather it points out just the creative juncture [Moment] in which humanity becomes again fully conscious of her spiritual superiority in God over menacing nature, and consequently the juncture in which the foundation is laid of the whole Christian era, so far as it develops itself into an overcoming of nature by the use of means. For it is quite certain that even the subduing of nature by the use of means to the service of man supposes the ever-increasing development of Christian enlightenment. This, perhaps, is most especially to be seen when steamers burst, and steam-ships, with all their appliances for subduing nature, blow up in the air. In such a case, something has always been wanting somewhere in the right conjunction of immediateness with the use of means, perhaps in prayer or sobriety of spirit. The voyagers landed in the neighbourhood of Gadara, the chief city of Perea, which lay to the south-east of the southern extremity of the Lake of Gennesaret; it was built on a hill, and was for the most part inhabited by Gentiles. Immediately on His arrival, Jesus was induced to cast the spirit out of a demoniac; and this healing stands out as the greatest of all His miraculous cures of this nature.1 In relating this occurrence, the Evangelist Matthew differs in two particulars from the other Evangelists. Both differences are, no doubt, to be explained from one cause, and testify to either a greater or a less degree of accuracy in his account in comparison with that which the other Evangelists had received. But we assume that the Gospel, in its essential substance, is in its form before us from Matthew himself, and that Matthew, just in this circle of facts which cluster round his call, is deserving of particular attention. Besides, the circumstance is to be considered that he was a tax-gatherer on the western shore of the lake, so that the opposite shore must have been well known to him. Hence, when Matthew speaks here of the country of the Gergesenes, whilst the others speak of the country of the Gadarenes, we may assume that he points out more precisely the place where they landed, giving it the name which it may have had from a town not so well known as Gadara.2 Besides this, the Evangelist mentions two demoniacs as having hastened out to meet the Lord, whilst the others only speak of one. It would be altogether unpsychological to suppose that the Evangelist had the peculiarity of liking to make two individuals out of one. As little can we imagine that the number two arose out of the name of Legion, which the demoniac gave himself. For it would not only suppose a most entire misunderstanding of the narrative, but also the most pitiful endeavour in the compilation of the Gospel, if we were to assume that the plurality of the possessing demons was meant to be thus in some measure confirmed through the duality of the demons. Also it is surely quite impossible to suppose that Matthew, who was so well acquainted with the localities in the neighbourhood of the lake, should have brought hither that demoniac out of the synagogue at Capernaum, and have joined him to this demoniac of Gadara.1 Rather, we have here surely to recognize more exact precision in the introduction of the second demoniac, of the same kind as when he observes that the shore of Gadara where Jesus landed, was more precisely described as the country of the Gergesenes. The one difficulty bears evidence for the other, and both bear evidence for the originality of the Gospel. Jesus therefore cured two demoniacs in the country of the Gadarenes; but that characteristically important one which caused His speedy return was only one of the two. Thus the first Evangelist, according to his habit of grouping together several incidents, has represented both cures as one fact. All the Evangelists have considered it characteristic that this neighbourhood should have so decidedly turned its dark side to the Gospel. The road from the sea to the nearest town was insecure. Rocky fissures extended through this region, which were used as sepulchres. In these caves dwelt two demoniacs, terrifying the passers-by. Jesus healed them; and one of them under most remarkable circumstances. This possessed man, who stands forward more prominently, would no longer allow himself to be kept at home. They had often tried to bind him. He had even been placed in chains and fetters, but he was always free again: the fetters were broken, the chains snapped as if he had rubbed them asunder, his clothes he tore off, and fled into the desert, which resounded with his cries. His paroxysms were so fearful that he raved against himself, wounding himself with stones. This savage being rushed then towards the Lord immediately on His landing. There was something self-contradictory in his behaviour, as we have seen above, which is explained, on the one hand, by the foreboding sense of Christ’s superior might, which came upon him in his demoniacal power of apprehension, and, on the other hand, by the ungovernable defiance which the demons inspired. This contradictory circumstance, that he hastened to the Lord and fell down before Him, and yet cried out to Him, ‘What have I to do with thee?’ quite agrees, therefore, with his condition.2 Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the sick man. We have seen what delayed the cure. The possessed man, in accordance with his distracted consciousness, felt as if a legion of spirits were within him: therefore with this consciousness Christ had to deal. The demons now besought Him that He would only not send them into the deep, but allow them to go into the herd of swine. Those who have not caught aright the difference between the great Shepherd of men and the well-conditioned swine-keeper in the country of the Gadarenes, imagine here that Jesus ought to have forbidden the demons to work this mischief, that it was a violation of the Gadarenes’ rights of ownership to have granted their request, and that this proceeding can be only falsely defended by referring to the sovereign right of Christ’s Godhead. It is quite true that the demons acknowledge in Him this divine fulness of power; but yet we explain His decision on the ground of His human consciousness of right: yes, on the very ground of His perfect unassumingness with reference to legal rights. He had not to administer justice nor the laws, nor to undertake the guardianship of swine in the country of the Gadarenes; and therefore He permitted that to take place which He could not have forbidden without mixing Himself up with local affairs of justice. Consequently modern lawyers who bring an action for damages in consideration of these Gadarenian swine, and who would thereby make the Gospel history also answerable for what the Prince of the Gospel once did, have to take the part of that wild legion of malicious demons.1 But now follows what is indeed a very obscure history. Even defenders of the Gospel narrative have been almost tempted to see here some mythical traits. But yet it seems to us that we should rather speak only of highly mysterious features in a circumstance clearly enough delineated. It has been explained above, how first of all we are to understand demoniacal operations among the demons, according as they took hold of the consciousness of the possessed sufferer; perhaps in such a way as generally a fixed idea becomes the central point in the consciousness of a crazy person. We therefore consider these demoniacal operations on their natural side as proceeding from a frame of mind spiritually powerful, and physically diseased. Now it is quite certain that such states of mind, according to the measure of their powerfulness, pass over from men to men, particularly to the weak, or that they can make an agitating impression upon those men. But here the question forces itself upon us, how far animals also may be susceptible of such impressions. Now, first of all, it is quite certain that they, especially dogs and horses, are very susceptible of physical impressions from man. The dog has a great disposition to receive into his animal condition, and to exhibit, human peculiarities. The horse has a great disposition to physical terror from impressions-one might almost say to ghost-seeing.2 But as for the pig, he seems, in his dull, obstinate nature, to represent quite the opposite pole to the aforesaid noble animals. Nevertheless it is capable of receiving terrifying impressions; and such a shock once received by the whole herd of swine, manifests itself sympathetically. It hurries along a whole herd in wild senseless fury. Now, if we return to the demoniacs, we must first of all again bear in mind that the healing of demoniacs was each time accompanied by a final paroxysm. This paroxysm appeared generally to be in proportion to the grievousness of the complaint. Here, therefore, in this moment, when the demoniac called Legion knew that his last attack was come, we may expect a most frightful paroxysm. It certainly is contrary to the meaning of the Gospel narrative to suppose that he rushed into the herd of swine: the herd was a good way off from them, Matthew says. And even the final paroxysm of a demoniac would hardly exhibit itself in so very strange a manner. Yes, this form of healing would be opposed to his own consciousness. Besides, the outward entrance of a man into a herd of two thousand swine, by itself alone, considered as a material influence, would not have called forth the results here recorded. The real matter is therefore set forth in the following simple mysterious form. The demoniac has a final paroxysm. And if he before made the place unearthly by his fearful cries, the thousand voices of the demons which were being driven out of him now make themselves heard in the most horrible howl. His outcry is like the shrill, confused savage sound of a wild hunt. This roar acts like an electric shock upon the herd of swine, which is feeding at some distance off on the slope of the hill overhanging the sea. The terror which comes upon them seizes the whole herd like a storm; and with senseless, stupid excitement, they rush down from the steep mountain side into the sea; in their flight, perhaps, deceived by a rush-covered bank, which makes them hope to find a refuge in their most congenial home, a swamp. Thus they perish.1 Without doubt, this obscure occurrence is not without its significance. One explanation is, that the Gadarenes deserved to have been punished for their un-Israelitish breeding of swine; but against this it has been urged, that though certainly the Jews dared not eat swine’s flesh, yet that they were not forbidden to trade in swine. Only, this last distinction does not exactly hold good; for the breeding of swine must in any case have been opposed to the feeling of Jewish purity. But also it is not to be supposed that immediately on His crossing over to the eastern shore of the sea, Jesus could have found nothing but simple heathenism and Gentile ways. The herd of swine characterized, therefore, the mixed neighbourhood, where perhaps even the Jews gained their livelihood by swine, in furnishing them to Gentiles. Under these circumstances, the occurrence was very significant, even if we cannot say that Jesus here inflicted a punishment on the Gadarenes; still less, since He did not Himself order the accident, but merely permitted it to happen as a decree of God. When such an accident as this took place at the very entrance of Jesus in that neighbourhood, it showed how far removed was His course of life from the lawlessness with which it has been often charged.1 Yes, this occurrence, happening at a time when the Old Testament laws concerning meats were about to end for the kingdom of Christ, threw a wondrous streak of light at the end of their existence across the centre-point of these laws, by bringing out in strong relief the ideal significance which might have been couched under the prohibition to eat swine’s flesh. The remark has recently been made with truth, that the aversion which ancient civilized nations had to eat horse flesh, proceeded apparently from the fact that the horse is peculiarly disposed to receive within himself human influences, and to come into a certain friendly relation with man.2 The horse so often becomes inspired by the physical disposition of his rider, even by his heroism, that one might indeed venture to say, that he who feeds on a riding horse, eats likewise something of the life of his rider. A lap-dog is entirely intervoven, as it were, with the reflection of his mistress’s humours and fancies. Hence, no doubt, arises the deep-seated aversion to eating the flesh of such an animal, in which can be imprinted such varied reflections of humanity. But as concerning swine, they seem to have a susceptibility to receive dark impressions of wild sylvan terror, which caused their flesh to appear unclean to the ever-watchful spirit of the theocracy.3 But for mature Christian nations, this disposedness of swine’s flesh to disease no longer carries with it in general any weight; but just as theocratical humanity was passing out of the legal into the Gospel period, it would seem that the spirit of the ancient theocracy was, by a singular occurrence, to appear justified in the severity of its prescriptions intended for the nonage of God’s people. At all events, this fact may be considered as a great primary phenomenon concerning the relation between the demoniacal dispositions of men and the psychical nature of animals, and especially of swine; and let those who have no better explanation to give, refrain at least from all such glosses as do no more than throw a certain gloss of tolerable respectability over the Gospel narrative, impoverishing the great reality of the fact recorded, in order that the wisdom of the day may find no difficulty in the passage, i.e. may be relieved of this riddle likewise. The keepers of the swine beheld the terrible disaster, and flew to the city to proclaim it there. The city here spoken of seems to have been a small provincial town near the sea. On hearing the frightful news, the people from the villages and hamlets hasten out to meet Jesus. They see the evidence of the misfortune which the swine-keepers announced, in a most gratifying sight; for they see the demoniacal man healed, and sitting quietly on the ground at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. From some quarter his clothing has been promptly provided; and by his speech he shows that he is restored to his right mind. They now hear the full particulars from those who witnessed the transaction. But immediately a great fear falls upon them, and with courteous entreaties they implore the mighty Stranger to leave their neighbourhood. The destruction of two thousand swine outweighs with them even the deliverance of a man whose misery had disturbed the whole neighbourhood. At any rate, the fear of faith certainly as yet outweighs with them the joy of faith. The working of the spiritual glory of Jesus has, therefore, for the present, agitated quite powerfully enough this neighbourhood, and a stronger exhibition of it they could not have borne. Besides which, He forces Himself nowhere. He therefore agrees to their courteous rejection. But in return, when about to depart, He takes care that the healed man should stay behind, to be a witness amongst them of this deed of His. This man seems to have been deeply grieved that his countrymen should banish his Deliverer; at all events, He was dearer to him now than his home. Therefore, when Jesus was entering the ship, he begged to be allowed to remain with Him. But Jesus charged him to return to his own house, and proclaim to his family how that God had had mercy upon him. And this charge he fulfilled most energetically: throughout the whole neighbourhood of the ten towns he declared what had befallen him, and together with the praises of God he proclaimed likewise the name of Jesus. Thus in the dark country of the Gadarenes, during a very short sojourn, Jesus had changed an inhuman wretch, driven hither and thither, and absolutely controlled by the darkest sentiments of the country, into a faithful and zealous preacher of God’s delivering grace, and of the salvation which had been set forth in him. And this great blessing of His Spirit He leaves behind for a people who had been punished through the judicial severity of His appearance, and who were fast chained to earthly interests.1 notes 1. That the centurion of Capernaum (centurio, commander of a company) was a Gentile, may clearly be gathered from the narrative. But as concerning the corps to which he belonged, many have expressed the opinion that there was at Capernaum a Roman garrison, and that to this he belonged. By others, again, this has been doubted. Compare Kuinoel on this passage. As Herod Antipas was by the Romans the acknowledged prince of Galilee, the garrison at Capernaum probably belonged to his own military, in which case the centurion was attached to this Galilean corps. Herod Antipas had many Gentiles among his subjects, and, no doubt, therefore among his officers as well. 2. Concerning the locality of Gadara, compare Ebrard, p. 248; concerning Decapolis, or the ten cities, see Winer’s R. W. s. v. 3. It is self-evident that the many other difficulties which recent critics have found in the foregoing Gospel narrative,-for example, why the demons were so foolish as to drive the herd of swine down a precipice, and thus deprive themselves of their lodging,-it is self-evident that these difficulties are set at rest by our view of the demoniac state. The examples which Strauss, vol. ii. p. 37, brings forward are interesting, concerning the manner and means by which, in former times, exorcists sometimes made the demons give them a sign that they were gone out. [Westcott, Characteristics of the Gospel Miracles, p. 73, gives a tabular view of the various phrases which express the idea of possession, and serve to bring out some of its characteristics.-Ed.] ======================================================================== CHAPTER 96: 02.099. SECTION XIV ======================================================================== SECTION XIV the return of jesus to capernaum from his journey to gadara. the throng of people. the paralytic. the calling of matthew. more decided conflicts with the pharisees and with john’s disciples. a succession of miracles (Matthew 9:1-34. Mark 2:1-22; Mark 5:21-43. Luke 5:17-39; Luke 8:40-56) In Gadara Jesus had met with a fresh repulse. He therefore returned again to His own city (Matthew 9:1). Matthew seems to lay stress upon His being thus sent home, but also on the fact that His home was in Capernaum, where he himself most probably dwelt. Here they still received Him with open arms, as if they had been looking out towards the eastern shore in anxious expectation of Him. On His arrival a crowd is very soon again collected, and surrounds the dwelling into which He has entered, probably Peter’s house, with whom He was accustomed to lodge. The crowd increases, blocking up the entrance, so that those seeking help cannot approach the door, whilst Jesus is either talking to those immediately around Him, or else preaching to the people from the house. But now something extraordinary occurred, which Matthew mentions with admiration (καὶ ἰδού, Matthew 9:2). The roof of the chamber or hall in which Christ was, opened, and upon a litter, borne by four persons, a paralytic man was let down and laid at the feet of Jesus. The men who bore this sick man had not been able to gain an entrance by the door of the house in consequence of the crowd. Then they had hit upon this expedient, either gaining the summit of the house by an outside staircase, or else by the roof of a neighbouring house, and then removing the bricks from the platform at the top of the house where Jesus was, until the opening was effected.1 This was indeed a breaking through of faith in its most literal sense, and only to be explained as proceeding from the most fearless confidence, which seemed almost to border on impertinent presumption.2 Antecedently, it is not likely that the lame man allowed himself to be thus dealt with against his will; rather his courageous faith seems first to have given rise to this undertaking. Yes, from the way and manner in which the Lord took this affair, we might conclude that he had been the real leader of this bold expedition; thus resembling General Torstenson, who once gained a victory whilst he was being carried sick and lame in a litter.3 But now, when the man lay there on his litter before the Lord, and looked Majesty Itself in the face, he might perhaps have been frightened at his own boldness. It seems as if he now could not bring out a single word. But well Jesus saw that it was not merely the longing of a sick man for health, but rather the longing of a conscience-stricken, salvation-craving soul for pardon, which had thus been able to burst open for him this spirited and high-soaring method of refuge. He saw in the deed of this bold little company their common faith, and He said to the sick man: ‘Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee!’ But He immediately knew in His spirit that He had spoken this word in a mixed company. Around him were seated Pharisees, and scribes or lawyers, some of whom were from the immediate neighbourhood, others from a distance (Luke 5:17). These changed colour at this word of Jesus. They probably looked at one another with signs of horror; perhaps even murmuring together. And though none dared speak aloud the word in which they all immediately agreed, yet Jesus read in their souls the sentence: ‘This man blasphemeth.’ They had, perhaps, already been in quest of some such word from His lips, and now in every look and gesture was to be plainly read: We have it! But the Lord must have deeply felt the significance of this juncture, when a narrow circle of opposers in the midst of those who revered Him first condemned Him in this brightest moment of His spiritual activity. But that which had stirred up these men of ordinances was in reality the fact, that He had absolved this man not through any medium, but of His own self, whilst in their opinion the man should have first brought the appointed sin-offering to the temple to perform the ceremony of repentance, and have waited until he heard his absolution from the mouth of the priest, who pronounced it in the name of Jehovah. They imagined they could draw this inference, that Jesus set aside the temple-service, and encroached wantonly upon the high prerogative of Jehovah. This was all based on the supposition that this man must have sinned in the Levitical sense. That any one without Levitical guilt could feel himself a sinner, and in need of the forgiveness of sins, was just what they had no conception of. Their want of this conception must have most deeply troubled the Redeemer.1 He immediately blamed them aloud and openly, because they had judged Him with gross error, secretly and with cowardice in their hearts. And then entering with the loftiness of a king into their ways of thought, He gave them a theological riddle: ‘Whether is easier to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee! or to say to such an one, Arise, and walk?’ Then perhaps He made a pause, and left them to guess. They still gave Him no answer, although, according to their habit of thought, they might have imagined the first to be easier, because a man could pronounce the word without any one being in a position to judge of its effect in the spiritual life. In the omnipotence of His divine certainty, Christ thus stood triumphantly opposed to their senseless impotence. It was not, however, His triumph that He cared for, but God’s cause, and so, first fixing His eyes upon His opponents, and then turning to the paralytic, He said in one breadth: ‘But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house.’ The man understood Him. He arose, took up his bed, and departed, glorifying God. He went forth in the sight of every one, before them all (Mark 2:12). The royal authority of Christ, His triumph, opened through the crowd a way for the pardoned sinner, which before had been closed against him. In His feet Christ had given a visible proof of what He had just before wrought invisibly in his heart, and all the unprejudiced spectators were struck with the fear of God: they were filled with joy, and joined the happy man in glorifying God. That promise of the prophet (Isaiah 35:6), that in Messiah’s time the lame man should leap as a hart, had now been literally fulfilled before their very eyes. We have not to inquire how far the healed man’s state of sickness was connected with his sins. That it was connected with his consciousness of guilt is evident; and this idea is agreeable to pious minds. The truly religious man will ever refer his sufferings to his sins, even if he has not immediately through those sins drawn upon himself these sufferings; and in his sufferings he will ever consider it to be his first need most particularly to reconcile himself with God in respect to his sins. Yet it is even possible that this paralytic might have drawn his suffering upon himself immediately through his sins. But even if this were not the case, in his religious frame of mind his sin must have been to him his greatest suffering; and it was upon just this frame of mind that Jesus fixed His eyes first of all with pity and healing sympathy. Therefore we have no need to enter at length into the profane and foolish remarks which have been made here concerning this master-word of the Saviour, that is, the Prince of healing art, whose healing begins from the very fountain of life.1 We may venture to trust the penetration of the master-mind of Christ, as well as the clear certainty of the fact of the healing, to believe that in this case the most definite absolution was the previous requisite of the healing. At all events, to this high-soaring paralytic his absolution seems to have been the first object. Immediately after this cure, Jesus again helped another man to walk. For He went forth by the sea-side, and after He had taught and dismissed the assembled multitude He called upon the publican Matthew, whilst sitting at the receipt of custom, to follow Him. It was as if the pharisaical spirit, by its positive enmity to His mercy in the healing of the paralytic, had led Him now in this formal manner to call the publican to be amongst the number of his disciples; just as afterwards in like manner the Apostle Paul was induced, in consequence of the unbelief of the Jews, to turn himself all the more decidedly to the Gentiles (Acts 18:6). And the Evangelist himself seems to have perceived the significance of the moment in which he was called (Matthew 9:9). For Jesus saw that He must display a decided opposition to the enmity on the part of the Pharisees against His free compassion, and so, by calling this publican, He gave a great sign that He was turning Himself with especial hope to the publican body. After what has gone before, there can hardly be a doubt that Matthew had already previously stood in a nearer relation to Jesus, even if he could not have been the disciple who was nearly ready to follow Him before the passage across to Gadara. For not only does the scene of the calling presuppose such a friendly relation, but also more especially the circumstance that the new apostle is able at once to introduce to the Lord a number of publicans who honour Him likewise. But yet what the Evangelist has particularly wished to stand out prominent is, that it was the determination of the disciple now to follow Jesus at once, and that this determination was in consequence of a startling and mighty summons from Jesus. Also, it is difficult to see how such a call to the apostolic office could have been partially followed, or how a tax-gatherer’s business could have been gradually given up.1 There lies no difficulty in the fact that Matthew the Evangelist speaks of his own call in the third person. Putting out of view the fact that he herein follows the example of other right-minded historians,2 he had here the especial motive of wishing to set forth in the strongest contrast, how Christ turned Himself from those Pharisees, and went forth to call a man, named Matthew, who was sitting at the receipt of custom. By the introduction of the first person this contrast would not only have been weakened, but would have been made indistinct. But as it is evident that the three first Evangelists relate the same account of the calling of a publican under the same circumstances, the question here arises, how the riddle is to be solved, that Mark and Luke call the newly called one Levi, whilst the first Evangelist designates him as Matthew? Now it is obvious to conjecture, that the Lord might have given a new name to Levi when receiving him amongst His apostles, just as He had done to Simon and others.3 He named him Matthew, perhaps because he was come to Him above the others as a gift of God. Therewith might have been connected the fact, that the name of Nathanael, which is almost identical with that of Matthew, was changed into Bartholomew.4 Now, when the second and third Evangelists related the calling of Matthew, it was likely that they should assign to him his earlier name, as it was reported to them, because it might be of interest to the Church. But Matthew loves best to call himself by the new name which the Lord has given him. But besides that, in his Christian modesty, he dwells too little upon himself to mention his earlier name, or to bring out so prominently as Luke does the circumstance, that he made the Lord a great feast. But otherwise he does not conceal this fact.5 He began his disciple’s course and closed his publican’s life by making a joyful feast to the Lord. It was certainly with the heartiest concurrence of Jesus, that at this feast, not only He should associate with Matthew, but that His disciples also should associate with many of Matthew’s old companions, publicans and sinners. Sinners of course are spoken of in the Jewish sense; they appear apparently to have been men who were under Levitical excommunication, or who might be considered Levitically unclean, either on account of their intercourse with Gentiles or with unclean persons. In the condition of the publican already there subsisted a transition to the condition of those who were fallen from pharisaical temple-righteousness. In company, then, with such a group, Jesus brought His disciples to a social meal. Here was a bold step; but not too bold for Him who felt how wide amongst this class of men the doors were opened to Him of a longing for salvation, and how clearly and prominently it behoved Him to set forth and to show by outward deed that it was His desire to save sinners, and therefore that He was even willing to associate with them according to the measure of their readiness to receive Him. That the Pharisees and scribes could not but soon know of this event, is clear. But it was also immediately seen what great offence Jesus had given them through accepting this invitation. They took His disciples to task because He ate with publicans and sinners. The fact of their always coming to His disciples with their complaints, not only shows the involuntary fear with which His majesty inspired them, but it also exhibits the cowardly, perfidious disposition which generally belongs to zealous superstition, ever hunting after heresy,-the disposition, namely, to calumniate the bearers of a better spirit, chiefly behind their backs, and in this way to seek to alienate their followers from them. But the disciples faithfully report to their Master, and Jesus gives His answer direct to His opponents openly and freely: ‘They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick!’ If they were at all willing to allow that He was a prophet, then, according to their own supposition of a contrast subsisting in the nation between righteous men and sinners, they could not but have expected that this prophet must bring back sinners again to their proper position, and therefore that they must form the chief centre of His activity. Thus He convicted them according to their own hypothesis. And yet they were not to be won by this argument, since they were imagining a Pharisee under the notion of a prophet, and therefore also a despiser and condemner of the publicans par excellence, just as narrow-minded Christians can never see anything but an excellence of their own one-sidedness in the man whom they expect to help them. Therefore Christ spoke His sententious word not only in their sense, but also in His own. The matter now stands thus, He means to say, that you can be in no need of Me, with the fancied soundness which you possess by virtue of your temple-righteousness; while those, on the contrary, who are in a fallen condition with respect to the superstitious righteousness of the common people may be in want of Me. To the first, it was their temple-righteousness which was a snare in the way of their conversion; whilst to the others, the open condemnation by which they were oppressed was a salutary agitation. In single cases, however, a greater and even a radical freedom of spirit might be brought into play, as well as a deeper trait of humanity, if a Jew would enter into greater intimacy with Gentiles, particularly through the publican’s office, just as, on the other hand, it was plain enough that the spirit of illiberality and inhumanity had participated in the rejection of Gentiles, publicans, and sinners. The Lord strengthened His remonstrance by reminding them of the prophet’s words: ‘I will have mercy and not sacrifice’ (Hosea 6:6). They were to learn the meaning of this word. We shall more exactly understand the connection of this passage with Christ’s words if we remind ourselves that the publicans and sinners were guilty in consequence of their neglect of the sacrificial worship, whilst the Pharisees sinned through their want of mercy for these guilty ones. But now God desires much more particularly the mercy of pious love to men than the sacrifice of pious worship. But if men will fain offer Him sacrifice without joining it with mercy, or even joined in fanatical zeal with unmercifulness, He then cuts asunder with the sword of His word the hateful combination: He rejects the oblation thus destitute of mercy, and chooses rather free, unfettered mercy, even though not supported by sacrifice. The opposite to that, and the disavowal contained in it, is indeed not altogether absolute, but rather relative. It cannot be said unreservedly that God rejects sacrifice, but only when it is offered to Him in opposition to mercy. But when this opposition does confront the Lord, then that disavowal is certainly absolute: the sacrifice devoid of mercy He rejects, because it has thus become a lie; mercy He chooses, because it contains within itself the cheerfulness of self-sacrifice. Thus does Christ, in the name of the Lord, explain to these Pharisees that they are much more wanting in what is essential than the publicans; and He puts the seal to what He says by a solemn explanation of the object of His mission: ‘I come not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.’ Not to the self-righteous, nor to the temple-righteous, nor to the righteous according to the letter, is His divine message addressed: but to those who know and feel and confess that they are sinners, who judge themselves as sinners, to them does His mission extend,-with those He has to do. Thus did Jesus turn aside the reproach of His having eaten with publicans, and made it into a shaming of His enemies. But now these ill-wishers had an eye upon another feature in this same feast,-namely, that it had been a festive banquet, a feast of rejoicing; and forthwith they found on this circumstance a new cause of offence. But it is a remarkable phenomenon, that it was more particularly the disciples of John who came forward with this complaint, and disciples of John, too, in the stricter sense, not merely admirers of him, such as were to be found scattered everywhere among the people. For it lies quite in the nature of the case, if we find John’s own disciples about this time sometimes in attendance upon the Baptist, and sometimes near Jesus among His observers; and if we recall to our minds the situation which they were thus placed in, this occurrence, at first so surprising, becomes quite intelligible. We last found the Baptist in full activity at Enon, near to Salim, in the summer of the year 781 (John 3:23). But at this time, when the publican-apostle, Levi Matthew, made the Lord a feast, it is probable that he was already in prison, since soon afterwards, and indeed before Christ’s journey to the feast of Purim in the year 782, he sent his well-known deputation to Jesus (Matthew 11:2). We must at a subsequent stage return to the more definite inquiry concerning the time of his imprisonment by Herod. But if we clearly apprehend the effect which his apprehension must have had both upon him and upon his disciples, we shall see that his disciples, who were at liberty to visit him in his imprisonment, though they could not live with him, would about this time have been more likely than ever to occupy themselves with Jesus. It is with these disciples of John that we have to do, who already felt themselves in some measure to be in opposition to the higher spiritual life of Jesus. They could not yet have broken with Jesus, as later they did with His Church. They were prevented from doing this by the authority which their master exercised over them. Yes, about this time they would certainly have been willing gladly to put up with His guidance, if He had commenced some dashing work, if He had given them any sort of prospect whatever of His being about to burst open the fortress of Machærus in which their master lay imprisoned. And in this hope they would be disposed to come round Him, and attentively to observe His behaviour. But it must have gone sadly to their hearts when they saw how the people flocked round Him, and exulted in Him, and followed His steps as exclusively as if there were no longer any John the Baptist in the world. And when, besides, they now observed that even Jesus did not seek to obtain the outward freedom of this great man, but that He seemed rather to be drawing away from him the means by which he might be released-the hearts of the people, and then actually saw that He could feast with publicans, whilst in their opinion, He, together with the country at large, ought to be fasting and mourning for the imprisoned prophet,-then it was natural that, with the line of thought which they had once adopted, their feeling of irritation against Jesus should rise to bitter indignation. But they were more honourable than the Pharisees, and therefore they addressed themselves immediately to Him with the inquiry of partisan-like surprise: ‘Why do we, as disciples of John, and the Pharisees, fast oft, but Thy disciples fast not; and Thy disciples eat and drink, hold merry feasts?’ Matthew distinctly tells us that this question was addressed by the disciples of John to the Lord. From Mark we learn that the Pharisees also joined in this attack. Luke introduces both the scribes and the Pharisees as questioners, and in such a way that this second attack follows immediately upon that first one. Apparently Luke has made the succession of the attacks his chief attention. Matthew, on the contrary, settles the motive of this second question, namely the irritation of John’s disciples. Finally, Mark gives us the picture of the occurrence. Just as often two parties, between whom there is ill-will, will often become friends in an overpowering ill-will against a third party or person, so was it here. It very likely happened that men with the disposition of Pharisees would stir up yet more the indignation of the disciples of John who were amongst them. And when these latter were wanting to come forward with the reproach that the school of Jesus was wanting in the due severity of pious fastings, and in the definite exercises of devotion (Luke 5:33), it was likely that they would be glad to support the assertion of their observances by referring to the same observances of the Pharisees, and all the more, because in this point they were really related to the latter, and because the established weight of the Pharisees might materially strengthen their reproach. On the other hand, we can imagine how willing the Pharisees would be to edge and to support these sad and earnest scholars of the great prophet, in order to give a blow to Christ’s authority with the people. It was apparently a well-contrived plan of theirs, an imposing and threatening coalition. Jesus’ answer appears all the more striking if we remember the Baptist’s last witness concerning Him: ‘He that hath the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice.’1 Thus had the Baptist set forth the spiritual glory of Jesus, and his own relation to Him. Hence Jesus now appeared to meet the disciples of John with only a continuation of their master’s words (John 3:29) when He replied, ‘Can the companions of the bridegroom mourn or fast so long as the bridegroom is with them? Ye cannot make them do that (Mark 2:19; Luke 5:34). But the days will come when the bridegroom shall be taken from them, and then shall they fast.’ In those days, as it is more particularly specified; for the separation between the Bridegroom and His companions shall be indeed but a temporary one. So long as the wedding festivities continue, the children of the bride-chamber cannot mourn and fast; that would be altogether unnatural, even to the minds of John’s disciples. The Messiah was now holding His marriage-feast. In the crowds of believers who embraced Him, His future Church was hastening to meet Him, His bride. Now the disciples of Jesus ought at all events to be recognized as friends of the Bridegroom at this feast. Therefore they would have been real disturbers of the marriage-feast if at this time they had chosen to fast. Now, according to the full meaning of the words of Jesus, He not only justified Himself to John’s disciples with their master’s word, but He also rebuked them with it. They were now disturbing the pleasure of the Messianic marriage-feast; and they were especially culpable, in that they refused any longer to see in their master himself the friend of the Bridegroom. When the Lord now intimated to them that at the end of a short feast He Himself would be withdrawn from His disciples, and that then His disciples would mourn for Him, and in their mourning would fast, this reference was highly significant for them. They were to remember that true fasting has its truth only in a corresponding disposition of the mind, in great and profound sorrow. They were to feel that Christ entered into their sorrow; but that He could not and would not remove it by outward help, but rather that in holy sympathy He saw Himself already consecrated to death. And that too might have helped them to divine that the death of Christ would assume a greater importance for His disciples and for the world than the martyrdom of John. But the tenderest thought in these words of Christ is this, that it was possible in spirit to hold a heavenly feast of joy over the salvation of sinners even during the imprisonment of a prophet, ay, even in the foreboding of approaching death to Himself. But in order that these complainers might know once for all in what position they stood towards Him, Jesus distinctly explained His relation towards them in two parables. In the first parable the Lord says, that it is not customary to put a piece of new, unwrought cloth upon an old garment in order to repair it. If any one were to do that, it would be a great mistake; for the new piece itself (by its contraction) would again tear the old garment, and thus the rent in it would be worse than it was before. Surely by this explanation the Lord gave the disciples of John clearly to understand that He was not minded to force the rich stuff of His fresh new life into the worn-out form of the ascetic prophet’s teaching, which they wanted to set forth, still less into that of pharisaical Judaism. At the same time, the word was a rebuke to them for beginning now with the comparatively fresher life of the school of the Baptist to patch on Pharisaism. In this parable He does not draw their attention to the fact that it looks both beggarly and extravagant, that it has a miserably patchy appearance, to see an old garment mended with new cloth. But He leads them to the thought, that they ought better to understand their own interest; that their worn-out religious forms of life would be torn and destroyed if He were to join with them His new, spiritual ways in a mixed patchwork. Since the Lord has expressed His thought so clearly in this parable, we might be disposed to inquire why He should have found it necessary to express it over again in another parable. But we shall soon see that in this second parable He heightens and completes the same thought. At first, these ascetics had the expectation that He would provide them with His stuff, His spiritual ways, to serve to patch up the old garment of their life. But although He set aside this expectation, although He should refuse thus to reform Judaism as such with His Christianity, yet the complaint might recur, it might take a milder form. They might expect that He would at least exhibit His life, Christianity, in Jewish forms-of fasting, for example, and of the asceticism of prophets, or pharisaical ordinances, or of Leviticism. But even this expectation He sets aside; and for this very purpose He makes use of the second parable, at the same time further unfolding in it His thoughts concerning the relation of new to old. In the first parable, Christianity appeared (according to Stier) more ‘as a custom and a way, a mode of life, or even doctrine;’ in the second, it appears as a ‘spiritual principle, as the spirit which creates the doctrine, as the life which fashions the mode of life.’ ‘Neither,’ He adds, ‘is it customary for men to put new fermenting wine into old bottles.’ If it is done, the bottles burst, and the damage is twofold. The old bottles are destroyed, and that is an annoyance for those who love and preserve those old bottles. But what is worse, the noble wine is spilt. It is therefore customary to pour new wine into new bottles: in this way both are preserved, the wine through the bottles, the bottles (as casks) through the wine. Thus the Lord at once explains that He cannot entrust His new wine to old bottles, His Christian spirit of life to old Judaical forms. This sentence of Christ’s is in every age of the highest significance. It shows what great stress the Lord lays on the importance to the contents of the form which holds it; it shows how much He recognized the necessity that the form of Christianity should be in keeping with its inward being. Those who would fain show their skill in blending discordant materials in the sphere of religion-the advocates of Interims and of A diaphoras1-find here no warrant. When, nevertheless, it has happened that men have again poured the new wine of Gospel life into the bottles of worn-out forms of life, the harm of such a proceeding has been already sufficiently clear. It is abundantly seen with what power the new wine bursts the old bottles, and how much then of the noble substance of life is spilt, mixes with the dust of the earth, and becomes mud. Hence God so disposed and ordered it, that the new wine of Gospel life in the Reformation was poured into new bottles. But for every age the warning of Christ holds good, that the pure life of His Church must not be destroyed by forcing it into worn-out forms. But His sentence contains this too, that pure Christian forms must be preserved together with the wine. Thus the Lord deems His cloth too good to adorn with it the old garment of pharisaical Judaism. For it would make of it a proud beggar’s garment; consisting half of righteousness of works, and half of righteousness of faith. It is His will that the new garment of righteousness by faith must be made entirely out of the cloth of His life. And as He insists upon the unity and pureness of faith, of faith as the contents, so He does likewise upon the safe preservation of His life in corresponding and vigorous forms. The new living wine of Gospel joy, blessedness, love, holiness, and freedom must be set forth in the new forms of really evangelical, heart-rejoicing sermons, of really festive songs, of really brotherly communions, of genuine New Testament discipline, of radical freedom in spiritual movement and mutual influence. The disciples of John could gather with certainty from this explanation of Jesus, that He would not allow Himself, through their importunity, to be drawn into their gloomy, ascetic cast of character, or even into that of the Pharisees; but that He meant to set forth the new spiritual life in a new form as well. Certainly the Lord closed this decisive explanation by a word which in some measure excused their individual weakness: ‘No man also, having drunk old wine, straightway desireth new; for he saith, The old is better.’ Thus the matter did not, indeed, certainly stand between the spiritual ways of the Pharisees or of the Baptist on one side, and those of Christ on the other; but the taste of these scrupulous spirits would fain have it that it did, and the Lord gave them to understand that, considering the weakness of their taste, He would generously allow them time to reconcile themselves gradually to His new institution of life. We ought not to forget that Christ dismissed the disciples of John with this categorical explanation. Apparently they did not receive it in the best possible way, and reported the Lord’s words in such a manner to the imprisoned Baptist as might very much have contributed to lead him into a gloomy state of mind, and into temptation. Immediately after this transaction, Jesus had an opportunity of showing that His way of joining in a joyous meal did not estrange Him from those who were sorrowing. A ruler of the synagogue at Capernaum, Jairus by name, had sought Him out in anguish of heart. As soon as he found Him, he fell at His feet, and excitedly, with many words, begged Him to hasten to his house. ‘My little daughter,’ he said, ‘lieth at the point of death.’ Apparently reckoning the time that had been lost since his departure from home, and distracted by his grief, he expresses himself stronger still: She is even now dead!1 he wailed out; and then again correcting himself, and in the hope that every spark of life was not yet extinct in her, he prayed: ‘Come and lay Thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live.’ Jesus immediately went with him, followed by His disciples, and a crowd of people, who thronged Him almost to suffocation. A woman needing help, and ashamed to tell openly of her woman’s disorder, an issue of blood, availed herself of this throng. She had already suffered twelve years from this complaint, and had spent all that she had on doctors, whilst her complaint only continued to get worse.1 In her conflict between womanly modesty and her longing for deliverance, it came into her thoughts that if she could only touch secretly the garment of this much extolled miraculous Physician-even that would bring her help. With the strength of despair she forced her way till she came immediately behind Jesus, and, not very gently, perhaps, in her extreme agitation, she grasped a corner of His garment-the hem, or perhaps the tassel which hung at the shoulder of the garment. To feel this pull, to understand it, and to accept it: this was but the work of a single moment in the soul of Jesus. The woman felt a shock from the touch, and was immediately conscious also that she was healed. But Jesus, who with superintending consciousness (ἐðéãíï‎ò, Mark 5:30) had felt His own life stirred, and consequently the streaming forth from Him of healing power, turned Himself about, thus directly facing the woman, and said: ‘Who touched My clothes?’ This question seemed marvellous to Peter and the other disciples. ‘Master,’ they say, ‘the people throng Thee and press Thee; and sayest Thou, Who touched Me?’ But Jesus let His eyes wander over the crowd (περιεβλέπετο ἰäåῖí, Mark) as if inquiringly, though she whom He was in quest of was just opposite to Him. He was wishing for her free confession: only through that could the healing receive its last sanction, and become a spiritual blessing to the woman. For it was necessary that she should not only be brought out of the natural reserve of womanly feeling, but also out of the present reserved form of her faith. She was not to take this blessing home with her as a secret, beneath the veil of modesty or of superstition. And now for the first time did there pass through her life the true terrors of the Spirit like holy fire from heaven. The reserved and fettered Jewess became an unreserved and unfettered Christian: trembling and yet determined, and with her spirit freed, she stepped close in front of Him, fell down before Him, and before all the people told Him her whole history up to the moment of her feeling herself healed. Upon which the Lord gave her His blessing: ‘Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.’ Thus He blessed her in like manner as He blessed the paralytic. And, indeed, both these supplicants must be compared together in order that we may see two wholly characteristic forms of bold faith, a manly as well as a womanly exhibition of faith in direct contrast. Both supplicants broke through with heroic confidence, and forcibly laid hold on help: the man did it in a manlike way, breaking through the roof of a house, almost like a robber; the woman, in a womanly fashion, almost like a skilful thief. But both were acknowledged by the Lord in the pure heroism of their confidence. The delay occasioned by this transaction almost makes one forget that Jesus was on His way to a dying person. It reminds one of a later tarrying, when His delay in coming was such a sore trial to His friends Mary and Martha; and it gives us an idea as to the way in which He might then also have been employed. But for Jairus too this pause was a heavy trial. He appears to have been silent; and this was, no doubt, much accounted of in his favour. But, in the meantime, messengers came from his house with the intelligence that his daughter was dead. There almost seems to have been some irony and bitterness mixed with the words which they added: ‘Why troublest thou the Master any further?’ Perhaps they meant to say that this man knew very well before that He could do nothing more here; at all events, it is characteristic that Mark and Luke should both have preserved the strong expression, ‘Why troublest thou Him any further?’1 But Jesus spoke to him words of encouragement: he was not to be afraid, but only believe. But when entering into the house of mourning itself, He made a careful selection. Of His disciples He only took Peter, James, and John with Him; and besides them, only the father and mother of the child, the last having apparently hastened out to meet Him at the door. We have here the first instance of His choosing out some peculiarly trusted ones from among those who were properly His. The others in the meantime had an office assigned to them amongst those who remained without. But besides this, the Lord doubtless wished only to be surrounded by the perfectly pure sympathy of the purest and greatest among His disciples, for even in sympathetic delicacy He showed the majesty of His nature. But the reason why He chose out these three is explained by His perfect insight into the very depths of personal character, and by the equally great freedom and sovereignty of His spirit: just these were His most chosen ones. But this selection is an evidence to us of the elevated and holy feeling with which He now approached this work, and beforehand prepares us to expect some new and singular act, such as has not yet come before us. But the house was already filled with the noisy tumult of the official mourners, with the sound of wailing flutes and voices. These appeared to be at hand, just as in the desert vultures hover over a fallen and wounded deer, glorifying the power of death. And when He reproached them for making such a din, explaining, ‘The maid is not dead, but sleepeth,’ they laughed Him to scorn (all the Evangelists make use of this expression); their profanity thus breaking forth coarsely and glaringly out of the midst of the funeral wail. For the rest, we are here assured that they had judged rightly as to her being dead, and that it is erring just as much on the other side to mistake the higher style of Jesus’ words, to take them literally, and to say, The maid was not dead, but only apparently dead.1 The Evangelist Luke expressly states that she was dead; and only upon this supposition can we at all understand the very peculiar behaviour of Jesus in this case. Those who would wish, on the contrary, to explain the words of Jesus quite literally, cannot talk of the maid’s being apparently dead, but only as sleeping. But Jairus would not have needed to summon the Lord merely to awake his daughter out of sleep in its ordinary sense. Jesus then drove out those mourners who maintained that the maiden was not asleep, but dead, i.e., was not to be again awakened. The house had now become quiet and empty. Two souls stood, believing and praying for help, near the maid like two mourning tapers-the father and mother. His Church the Lord saw represented through His three intimate friends. And now came the solemn awakening. The Talitha cumi thrilled through Peter, and by Him through Mark in all its original power; and by their transmission it will continue to sound through the Church even till the end of the world.2 The efficacy of the word appeared, as it were, abundant and overflowing. The maid arose and walked about the room, perhaps in her agitation moving to and fro between her father and her mother. But the Lord was so profoundly calm in it all, that He was able quite formally, or as if He were a physician, to order that something should be given the child to eat, whilst the witnesses of the transaction felt as in a holy ecstasy. But when He straitly charged them that they should tell no man what was done, we may suppose that by this was meant, not the fact of the awakening itself, but only that the particular details of this sacred occurrence were not to be profaned by any premature talking about it amongst the people. As Jesus was returning to His former abode, He heard that two suppliants were following Him, who cried, ‘Thou Son of David, have mercy upon us!’ He did not stop. He was not disposed openly to attend to this cry of premature allegiance. For if He had publicly given them a hearing, a rising perhaps of the Galileans, in the name of the Son of David, might have been attempted. But they followed Him even into His dwelling; and here, before they spoke, He encountered them with the question: ‘Believe ye that I am able to do this?’ On their answering in the affirmative, He touched their eyes and cured them. And now these two men looked upon Him with their eyes, who even before their healing had proclaimed Him the Son of David, and who were now more than ever bound to do so. Therefore He straitly charged them that they were to let no man know what had occurred. No doubt they were, above all things, to keep secret the title under which they had sought Him, and under which He had helped them. But the healed men could not keep the secret to themselves: as soon as they were departed, they proclaimed Him everywhere,-not merely thus making known the deed, but Himself as the Son of David, throughout the town and country. But as soon as this watchword of allegiance sounded through the country, opposition began also more distinctly to arise. This was especially the case when a fresh occurrence took place. Jesus healed a dumb man possessed by a devil, who had been brought to him, i.e., a man whose demoniac consciousness would not allow him to speak. This was a case of disguised demoniacy, in which the demon who held possession of the man concealed itself under the appearance of his dumbness; which dumbness proceeded not from any organic defect, but from a physical-demoniac constraint. The demoniac state of mind under which this man was suffering, was such that he thought either that he could not or that he must not speak, that his demon would not allow it; and consequently it may be compared to the condition of those insane persons who are prevented by a fixed idea from going out of doors, or the like. The mastery of Jesus was therefore shown in this case by His immediately seeing through the condition of this man-fastening upon the hidden demon who made himself known by no word, and casting him out. And as soon as He had thus freed the man’s soul, he began to talk reasonably. The people marvelled at the sight of this master-stroke of Jesus, and said, ‘It was never so seen in Israel!’ This homage was pretty clear: Jesus was placed by it above Moses and the prophets. In consequence of this, the pharisaical party were led for the first time to put forward the satanic opposition of affirming that Jesus drove out the demons because He was in league with Satan, the prince of demons, and made use of his help; that all these miracles, therefore, were but a jugglery of hellish powers, whose ends Jesus was subserving as a spirit in their employ. This blasphemy was at first only put forward in the form of a sneaking whisper in face of the loud enthusiasm of the multitude: later we find it grown into a shameless and open accusation against the Lord. Envy, from its very nature, is willing to adopt this extreme accusation. Just as the envious man himself does unconscious homage to the powers of darkness, so is he inclined to see their rule in others whose spiritual workings soar above him and weigh him down, and all the more, since, in his beclouded state of mind, Satan will appear to him to be mightier than God. Even the popular mind often is guilty of committing this sin against those great geniuses who in God’s power accomplish some incredible result. Thus, for example, a lofty cathedral, that of Cologne, was only built by the help of the devil; he had a helping hand in the erection of a bold bridge-the Devil’s Bridge; in the perfecting of a new discovery-the art of printing. And even the creative Spirit Himself must often have His boldest ideas and works designated as devil’s enchantery; as, for example, when He has thrown gigantic masses of rock in confusion on a mountain’s summit. If, then, even the more harmless popular mind can so often mistake the works of natural genius, and even of the creative Spirit in His general government, for the devil’s works, there is no such very great cause for wonder that the pharisaic-hierarchical mind should have fallen into the horrible error of traducing the glorious Spirit-works of the great God-man as being no better than Satan’s jugglery. notes 1. The woman cured of the issue of blood has been honoured by Church tradition under the name of St Veronica. She is said (according to Eusebius, vii. 18) to have erected at her home in Paneas, at the sources of the Jordan, a brazen (according to Von Ammon, a stone) monument before her house, in honour of Him who had saved her life.1 When Von Ammon maintains (i. 413) that the sick woman was a Jewess, and therefore concludes that she could not have had her house in the Gentile town of Paneas, this conclusion is certainly without much weight. For how many Jew sat that time were scattered far beyond Paneas, even throughout the world! Concerning the details of the tradition, compare the passage referred to. 2. Concerning the healing of this blind man now before us, and other healings of this kind, compare Ebrard, p. 262. Concerning the difference between the dumb demoniac which we here meet with, and the man similarly afflicted who is also blind, Matthew 12:22 (Luke 11:14), compare the same, p. 241. There is surely something surprising in the fact that just twice, at the healing of a dumb demoniac, the Pharisees should come forward with the same reproach, that Jesus drove out the demons with the devil’s help; but no doubt they were just the persons who would have an especial motive for doing so, inasmuch as these particular cases of illness might appear to be just those which the exorcists have always held to be incurable, and because on this account they would look upon these cures with more especial envy. 3. The Evangelist Matthew closes the account of the healing of Jairus’ daughter (Matthew 9:26), as well as of the healing of the two blind men (Matthew 9:30), with the remark, that the fame thereof was spread abroad into all that country (ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ γῇ ἐκείνῃ). This expression might be taken as if the Evangelist spoke of another neighbourhood in contrast to that of His own home. But these particular scenes, together with the healing of the paralytic, are strictly confined, as far as locality is concerned, to Capernaum. Add to this, that the expression in Matthew 9:28, ‘when He was come into the house,’ seems to refer to His abode at Capernaum. And at length His departure from Capernaum is announced in Matthew 9:35. Now when we again turn to the expression above referred to, that the fame of Jesus was spread abroad throughout all that land, it seems possible that it had reference to the town and neighbourhood of Capernaum. Yet it might be more obvious here to think of that particular district in Capernaum in which Peter’s house was situated, and to suppose that it was not the fame of Jesus generally which is here spoken of, but the more specific announcement that He who wrought such works was the Son of David, and therefore the Messiah (see Matthew 9:31). 4. It is a characteristic observation of the famous ‘Criticism,’ that the intimation of the Evangelists, that Jairus’ daughter was twelve years old, has been derived from the preceding intimation that the woman with the issue of blood had suffered for twelve years. Such very minute and external coincidences in the Gospel history, though they occur everywhere a thousand times over, are judged by this critical theory of the world too full of significance to be credited. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 97: 02.100. SECTION XV ======================================================================== SECTION XV preparations for a new journey. the separation of the twelve apostles. the instructions given to the apostles (Matthew 9:35-38, Matthew 10:1-42; Matthew 11:11. Mark 3:14-19; Mark 6:6-16. Luke 6:12-16; Luke 9:1-6) Jesus had not now any intention of tarrying a longer time in Capernaum; He only returned to this centre of His wanderings in order to prepare for a fresh expedition. Apparently it was known at Capernaum from the first that He would soon again take His departure; hence it was that the paralytic man, and also the woman with the issue of blood, had hastened to obtain His help in an extraordinary manner. The calling of Matthew also points to a fresh departure. As the Lord had already now visited the high mountainous district of Galilee, and the opposite shore of the lake, so He now desired to pass through the towns and villages of the lake district which lay below Capernaum, especially the neighbourhood of Capernaum, which was in the direction of Jerusalem, all the more since, no doubt, the spring had now come, and companies were already forming to go up to the feast of Purim, at which Jesus also intended to be present. And now, as He approached this thickly inhabited district, the throng of people in His way kept on increasing. From city to city, from synagogue to synagogue, crowds flocked around Him. He saw the multitude, and compassion moved His soul. They were driven about and scattered abroad as sheep which have no shepherd, and which, therefore, cannot form a true flock. Jesus felt that this people needed real shepherds, spiritual pastors. But the more they pressed round Him, the more did one step in the other’s way. They could not all hear Him, they could not all get at Him. Jesus might well have sighed when He saw the people’s need. So we gather from what He said to the disciples: ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest that He will quickly send forth (ἐκβάλῃ) labourers into His harvest.’ If He thus urgently desired His disciples to make this prayer, we may well imagine how earnestly He Himself prayed. And we also learn from the Evangelist Luke, that His great solicitude on behalf of the people occupied Him throughout a whole night in prayer to God. On this occasion He had quite separated Himself from the circle of His disciples; He tarried alone on a mountain top. On the next day, when He again joined the disciples, He made His selection of the twelve apostles. In the life and doings of Jesus we ever find a view of the most distant joined to a view of what was nearest, a most universal care to a most special care. So also here. He selected His twelve apostles with the immediate object, during His present missionary journey, and on His way to Jerusalem, of working upon and subduing, through their co-operation, the masses of people who were following, and who were awaiting Him. Thus, as the disciples, in His power, and in oneness of spirit with Him, radiated forth as it were from Him, His agency must have been multiplied by their means, whilst at the same time the mass of people which surrounded Himself was in some measure divided off from Him by the disciples as they went forth, and thus the pressure of the multitude was abated. But that which had occupied His mind during that great night of prayer went far away beyond this present preaching tour and its needs. These men, whom He now immediately appointed to only a small missionary service, had also the large and universal destination of being His apostles and representatives in Israel, and in all the world. For this purpose they were, in the first place, called to abide henceforth in continual personal fellowship with Him, to live with Him, to eat and drink with Him, to form with Him a spiritual family, to be, in short, ever near Him, excepting only during their short missions into the neighbourhood, which they might consider as preparatory practice for their great future embassy. For, secondly, they would have by and by to come before the world as His witnesses, as witnesses of His life, of His death and resurrection, as witnesses of His Spirit and His power. But in order to their giving this testimony, they were to receive the Spirit of Christ; and in the power of this Spirit they were to form the finished representation of His life in the world, the first whole of that presence of His in the world which spiritually is eternal. And when Christ chose out exactly twelve disciples, it had surely an especial reference to the twelve tribes of Israel. This number was to express the immediate vital connection in which His work attached itself to the Old Testament theocracy. It was to make known that Jesus, as the Messiah, the spiritual King of Israel, designed to work through His twelve judges and vicegerents upon the twelve tribes of Israel (Matthew 19:28). But the twelve tribes themselves were all along not merely historical, but at the same time also typical branches of the theocratic people; and the number Twelve pointed out the completeness of the theocratic life which was in them, manifesting itself in the multiplicity of their gifts (Revelation 21:1-27) And viewed thus, the twelve apostles represent the life of Christ itself in its development, in its rich manifoldness, in its strong outlines, in its completed unity (John 20:21). Therefore we must surely believe that this very selection was founded on the most glorious combination in the spiritual life of Christ. It behoved Him to select a number of men in whom the riches of His life might be unfolded in every direction. For this end He needed above all things people in whom the glory of His Spirit and the peculiarity of His work might be distinctly identified; laymen, who would not chain His work to existing priestly habits; unlearned men, who would not mix up His wisdom with traditional schemes of philosophy; yes, even comparatively uneducated men, at any rate, homely men, in order that the dulled taste of a diseased worldly civilization might not disturb the culture which the Spirit of the Image of God operating from within was to impart to them.1 His Spirit thus sought for itself pure vessels, that is to say, vessels who should not have been made unfit, through a traditional habit of mind fashioned by worldly formulas, to exhibit His Spirit in all its heavenly purity, even though they all needed, as much as any other men, regeneration through this Spirit. It was through these fishermen, country people, and publicans, that the work of God, the life and doings of Christ, was to be declared in all its purity. Truly these negative qualities of the disciples did not suffice to make them qualified bearers of Christ’s apostolic office. But yet it was only upon the stock of a pious Israelitish mind that Jesus could graft the branch of His New Testament life. And it was just this mind which brought the disciples to Jesus. They were simple, pious men, taken from among the Galileans, in whom the Old Testament life of the post-prophetic time, the freshness (we will say) of the Maccabean faith, was still working in the strength of popular simplicity, whilst the same life in the hierarchical atmosphere of Judea had been much more distorted and corrupted. Their piety, on the contrary, had already gained a somewhat freer character. The free spirit of a mercantile country had affected them; intercourse with heathen foreigners had given them, in various respects, a freer disposition. Notwithstanding that their origin was socially lowly, they yet doubtless belonged in many respects to the spiritual, religious noblesse of their native place. The sons of Zebedee stood in early relation to John the Baptist. The sons of Jonas or John of Bethsaida were friends of the sons of Zebedee, and their house at Capernaum was for a long time the centre to which all the religious people in the country turned. James the Less, together with his brother Jude, and apparently also the disciple Simon, belonged to the family of Mary. And, finally, Philip stood in a friendly relation to Nathanael, which was founded upon the Hope of Israel. Thus, for the most part distinctly, we find the circle of disciples resting upon a popular base of a noble character. But yet all that could not make apostles of the disciples. There must have Jain a positive motive in the individuality of each one to induce the Lord to receive him into this circle. They, one and all, must have been Spirits, Talents, and Characters in a pre-eminent sense, strong Pillars, which might be able to become the bearers of an especial power of Christ’s Spirit. And for this purpose it was especially requisite that they should all perfectly complete one another; that therefore, on the one hand, they should qualify, restrain, and neutralize one another; and, on the other hand, should encourage, strengthen, and perfect one another, in order to exhibit the richest collective individuality as the organ of Christ’s life. And therefore Christ could not receive many disciples of one and the same cast of mind into this circle. As then He formed this circle with a reference to the twelve tribes of Israel, with a reference to the completeness of His own life, and to the spiritual foundations of His eternal City of God, this selection must appear to us to be the highest master-work of the Divine organizing Spirit. We are not disturbed in this opinion by the fact that we know so little respecting the character of several of the apostles. Rather this affords us assurance of the fact, that the weaker exponent types held a right relation towards the strong primary foundation-types, which were Peter, James, and John. But the way in which these three supply and complete one another clearly bespeaks the spiritual harmony of the whole apostolic circle. Thus we see in the Twelve the founding of the organization of Christ’s Church; and in this view, as being the representatives, yes, one solid entire representation of His life, they are His apostles, the messengers to the world of the heavenly King, invested with authority to represent Him through the glory of life in His Spirit. But the objection has long sought to interrupt us, how one would find a place for Judas Iscariot in such an ideal construction, or how his call into the apostolic office at all can be explained. We shall endeavour later to meet this question, when we follow the order of the catalogue of the apostles given by Matthew (Matthew 10:1, &c.) with reference to that given by the other Evangelists (Mark 3:16, &c.; Luke 6:12, &c.), as also that in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 1:13). At the head of every list of the apostles stands Simon Peter. The place which is here given to Peter is evidently not merely a whim of the Evangelists; it rather points to the position which Jesus Himself assigned to him in conformity with his inward calling. Peter therefore stood before the soul of Christ as the foreman of His band; an eagle mind, fitted by its depth and ardour strongly and clearly to feel the whole character of Christ, and to receive it into its own depths (Matthew 16:17); a popular spirit in the noblest sense, who could work upon the people with the most popular arguments, and deeply penetrate into the world (Acts 2:15; Acts 2:29; Acts 3:16); an heroic, fiery, energetic man, who was ever ready to strike at the decisive moment, and, regardless of consequences, to send forth his blows first in a fleshly, and afterwards in a spiritual manner; in his large elastic sympathy now constituted as a pioneer (Acts 10:1-48), and now as a mediator (Acts 15:1-41); in the firm rock-like solidity of his inmost character as the first leader, founder, and guide of the Church of Christ, yes, as the living type of the unchangeableness of her nature, of Christ’s pure foundation. With regard to earnestness, depth, and nobility of soul, John, it is true, towers above him; but just for that very reason John was not popular enough to cause the influence of the apostolic circle to bear upon the world. The talent of a conservative and conciliating dignitary of the Church was possessed in a very high degree by James the Less (Acts 15:13), but the pioneering power was altogether wanting in him. That which made Peter the leader of the apostles was the lofty symmetry and the symmetrical loftiness of his gifts, when changed by the Spirit of Christ into gifts of grace. But as to his having been formally entrusted with the superintendence of Jesus’ apostles, nothing can be said on that point with any regard to the Spirit of Christ, or to anything that Christ said. His brother Andrew comes second in the list given by Matthew. For Matthew appears generally to have grouped the apostles according to brotherhoods and friendships. Now Andrew is decidedly in the background on the stage of the Gospel history. But the traits which we have of his life are characteristic; they bespeak the eager spirit, anxious for others, a true herald’s nature. Before his connection with Christ he was one of John’s disciples. With the younger John, he was the first to follow Jesus, and then immediately went and announced to his brother Peter, ‘We have found the Messias.’ The same Andrew, together with Philip, introduces the first Greeks, who were desirous of being admitted to nearer intercourse with Jesus (John 12:22). And in connection with this circumstance, it must be remarked that he as well as Philip bears a name which is probably Greek.1 In an especial juncture we see him and the three chosen disciples of Jesus forming a quaternion of confidential ones; being with this group upon the Mount of Olives, over against the temple, he joins with the rest in asking the Lord when the judgment should descend upon Jerusalem (Mark 13:3). He, together with his brother Andrew and his friend Philip, lived at Bethsaida. Bethsaida2 was a small city or town (John 1:44; Mark 8:23) on the west shore of the Lake of Gennesaret, not far from Capernaum. Thus this place contributed three distinguished disciples to the apostolic circle. But heedless of this high distinction, there was no readiness on the part of its inhabitants in general to accept the salvation, and at length we hear the Lord uttering woe even over Bethsaida (Matthew 11:21).1 Andrew and Peter had later, as it appears, a common residence in Capernaum, from which we may conclude that at that place they carried on their fishing business on the Lake of Gennesaret (Mark 1:29). After the sons of John of Bethsaida come the sons of Zebedee. They too were fishermen with their father Zebedee, and abode on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, we may almost conjecture at Capernaum (Matthew 4:21-22). We find the two brothers, the sons of the pious and faithful Salome, joined together on many occasions. It was they who wanted to destroy a Samaritan village with fire from heaven, like as Elias did, because the inhabitants refused to receive their Master (Luke 9:54). But even if this were the occasion of their being afterwards called the Sons of Thunder (Mark 3:17), yet we dare not say that this designation is a term of reproach, but rather a designation of character.2 For a name which expresses a fault cannot be radically a real name; for this cause alone, Christ could not have laid such names upon His disciples. We have seen before how well this appellation was fitted to characterize the refined, high-soaring, and quietly burning soul of John, with whom James in spirit also must have been nearly related. We find both the Sons of Thunder, together with Peter, raised above the other disciples as those whom Jesus admitted to His inmost confidence.3 James appears at first to have acted with the greatest authority of any in the church at Jerusalem, holding a position answering to that of a bishop. And this appears to be a sufficient explanation of his being placed before John in the enumeration of the apostles; a circumstance which has, however, generally been explained by the supposition that James was the elder brother. At any rate, he fell, as the first martyr amongst the apostles, by the sword of Herod Agrippa (Acts 12:1); whilst, according to tradition, John closed the whole line of the apostles by dying last of all. One might from this form a conjecture in reference to the question, which of the two brothers practically most displayed the character of Thunder; although truly it is John who appears to us to be theoretically the truest Son of Thunder amongst the apostles, in so far as it is most especially his spirit which, in the most important crises of thought, like lightning flashes forth, like lightning awes and subdues, like thunder shakes, and always refreshes like a storm. Philip of Bethsaida also belongs to the earliest confessors of Jesus (John 1:43). In every situation under which he comes before us, he always displays a quick and vigorous mind, joined with the tendency to assure himself of the invisible as much as possible through concrete evidence and sensuous experience.1 He had invited Nathanael to come to Jesus with the words, Come and see! and yet afterwards he could grieve the Lord by the request, Show us the Father! But it was the same craving of the soul for outward matter-of-fact evidence which lay at the bottom of both extremes. As, according to the Gospel history, Philip enlists Nathanael, so also we find Nathanael joined with him in the synoptical enumeration of the apostles under the name of Bartholomew. If we take in connection with each other the grounds upon which we suppose the apostle Bartholomew to be identical with the disciple Nathanael, we can hardly regard this supposition as very doubtful. For not only is it favoured by the circumstance2 that, in the passage in John 1:46, Nathanael comes forward in conjunction with Philip, whilst in the enumeration Bartholomew appears in the same conjunction with Philip; but also by the fact that, after the resurrection, we find Nathanael in the innermost circle of disciples. Besides which, we may remark that the name of Bartholomew can, properly, only be considered as a surname, and as such designates the son of Tholmai (áÌÇø úÌÈìÀîé).3 Taking, then, this identity for granted, Bartholomew is clearly enough known to us through the scene of his first meeting with Jesus. But still more distinctly is the character of Thomas to be discerned in the Gospel narrative. His name has been explained by the Evangelist John (John 11:16) to mean the Twin (úÌÀàÉí, Δίδυμος). This word, the Twin, or the Double, might perhaps remind us of his doubting; but he certainly could have had no name given him from that. That which was contradictory, twofold in his character, was besides not double-mindedness of heart, but that mixture of scepticism and heroic courage which is often found in tender, deep-feeling souls of a melancholy temperament, and yet requiring to be loved. This contrast shows itself plainly in his behaviour.4 His doubting was the fruit not of a frivolous, but rather of a desponding turn of mind; that fiery doubting of the struggling soul which God guides to certainty. Matthew introduces his own name into the apostolic list with the humble addition, The Publican. He has already come before us as an important character with its own peculiar features (Book I. vii. 2). In James the son of Alpheus we have seen above the first among those brethren of Jesus who were called to the apostolic office. His character is that of devoted Christian legality, or practical Christianity itself,-of conciliating wisdom in opposition to all that is gloomy, unclean, or untimely-in opposition to all vehemence, precipitancy, ambition, or imperiousness. Such is his distinguishing feature. Thus he appears in the Acts of the Apostles, and so also in his Epistle. This gift made him the chief leader of the Church at Jerusalem, after the death of the elder James. His lofty calmness governed the fiery heat of his brother Jude with almost paternal power: Jude loved to call himself after his brother, Jude the brother of James.1 We have before considered Jude’s distinguishing trait. This characteristic fully confirms the ancient supposition, that Judas the brother of James, in Luke’s Gospel, is the same person as the Lebbeus of the first Gospel2 and the Thaddeus of the second, apart from the nearly parallel position which the name of Jude holds in the third Gospel as compared with that of the names of Lebbeus and Thaddeus in the two first. As we have seen, Jude, when he appears before us in the Gospel history, as well as in his Epistle, quite exhibits the character which the two last names import.3 In a certain sense, Simon Zelotes appears to have surpassed even the brave, hearty, fiery zeal of Jude. For the appellation, the Canaanite, which is given him by the two first Evangelists,4 we find again in Luke under the name Zelotes (or the Zealot); concerning which De Wette remarks: ‘He had been a Zealot, i.e., one who, after the example of Phinehas (Numbers 25:7), and afterwards of Saul, interfered to put down offences and abuses, not only as the prophets did, by words, but also by deeds. The party of the Zealots, which afterwards, during the Jewish war, distracted Jerusalem, had at that time not as yet been formed, but its germ was already in existence.’5 We must remember, however, that any Israelite, at any time, might rise up as a Zealot in the spirit of Phinehas, as was the case with John the Baptist when he baptized, and with Jesus when He cleansed the temple. And so, perhaps, also the Apostle Simon might have gained for himself this name by some such single act. In any case, we must believe that he had exhibited an especial measure of that theocratic zeal in rebuking, and that it was from this characteristic that he received his name. Eusebius, in his Church History (iii. 11), identifies this Simon with the Bishop of the Jewish Christians called Simeon, who, according to Church tradition, succeeded James the younger in his office after this latter had suffered martyrdom. For he observes respecting this Simeon, that according to every testimony he was the son of that Cleophas who was the brother of Joseph, and consequently cousin to the Lord. Now, if there are no weighty reasons against this tradition of Church history, which Eusebius describes as being quite unanimous on the subject, and in which the ancient Church historian Hegesippus also concurred, then we may have grounds for observing likewise the mark of relationship which is exhibited between the Zealot as such and Judas Lebbeus, and which is further shown in the quiet theocratic earnestness of James. Probably these three sons of Alpheus, who form the group of those disciples which so earnestly contended for what was eternal in the theocracy, were the latest to arrive at the perfect surrender of themselves to the new spiritual economy of Jesus; whilst the two sons of Jonas, whom we may also class with the kindred mind of Philip, designating all three as the Bethsaidites, represent the pioneering group amongst the disciples. If we join to these the group of the two sons of Zebedee, we shall have a third order of spirit, which, soaring beyond the opposition between Judaism and heathenism, desires only to see the Lord glorified throughout the world; and to this temper of mind Nathanael Bartholomew seems also to belong. We come at length to the dark, mysterious form of Judas Iscariot.1 The question has been often discussed, how it could happen that Jesus received this man, who was His betrayer in so horrible a manner, amongst the number of the disciples? If He did not foresee Judas’ fall, how does that agree with His spiritual discernment, and especially with John’s statement, that He ‘knew from the beginning who should betray Him?’2 But if He had this foresight, how could Jesus place this man in such a position, which seemed precisely calculated to plunge him into the deepest destruction? Certainly this question cannot be answered by saying that Judas was chosen by Jesus with foresight on that very account, because some such instrument was necessary to bring about His death. For in this sense men are never treated by Providence as means, and sacrificed to a higher object. This, however, is a fact, that, quite apart from Jesus, and Judas and his election, Providence a thousand times brings men into critical circumstances which they make their destruction. And this difference is always to be seen, that little spirits have to prove themselves in smaller temptations, whilst no great spirit is spared the great temptation. Therefore, surely it can hardly be disputed, that Judas, considering the importance of his character, might be supposed to have been brought by God into this fateful situation. But this suggests to us already the inference, that the God-man must also be supposed to have thus placed him. Yes, and this last is in a way more easily to be explained than the first, insomuch as Jesus, as being God-man, did not act immediately from divine omniscience.1 In the peculiar character of His consciousness of things, He might with divine penetration have looked into the dangerously impure bottom of Judas’ soul, and yet with human hope He might have been bent upon winning him and preserving him. For, as we saw before, it belonged to the rhythm of His life that He did not prematurely remove the veil from the obscurity of the future. Hence He might have had from the first a distinct foreboding of the miserable end of the twelfth apostle, and yet in His love He might have wished to try to save him. Here we must least of all forget that the leading principle which rules all dealings in the kingdom of Christ is not wise, carefully calculating foresight, but the boldest love which ventures all. And on this account, Jesus, as a man, might yet have felt a ray of hope in considering Judas’ future, because as yet He was able to view him with love and pity. For where love is put forth, it is of necessity ever accompanied by hope. It might especially have appeared to Him in the highest degree desirable, ay, and even necessary, for the condition of Judas’ soul, that He should receive him amongst the number of the Twelve. For if we once suppose that Judas declared a great attachment to Him, we must also consider that Jesus certainly made Himself perfectly clear concerning the consequences that would ensue if He at once repelled this man. It is not, however, generally taken into account, that in this case Jesus, in all probability, had before Him from the very first a hard alternative. Perhaps He clearly foresaw that this strong ambiguous man, if He were to reject him, would mar His plan of life. Now, if He saw in His rejection of Judas certain destruction, whilst in His acceptance of him He beheld a possibility of his deliverance, because His love prevented Him from prematurely withdrawing the veil from before the complete image of his fate which lay in the obscurity of the future, then He must have felt Himself induced to receive him with the rest into His society. Inasmuch as Judas raised hopes concerning him by any better impulses at work within him, this was an endeavour to give certainty to those hopes by the best tending that could be applied to his case. But inasmuch as he was already dangerous to the cause of Christ, he was through his present state of mind unconsciously seized hold of for a time, and rendered harmless. Like a lion or a wolf subdued by the power of mind, Jesus led him about with Him in order that he might not scatter His flock before the time. But probably also there was great consideration paid to the disciples in the election of Judas. For some time Judas appears to have been much thought of by most of the disciples. We may gather this from the fact that many of the disciples allowed themselves to be so carried away by him as to join with him in blaming Mary’s deed at Bethany-the anointing by which she glorified her Master. Even in this matter he appeared to them to prove himself the competent, skilful, and pious treasurer. Probably he owed their especial recognition of him to his vehement expressions concerning the importance, in the new theocracy, of the right management of money matters. From his position towards the disciples, we may therefore conclude that, on his first approach to Jesus, most of them urgently pleaded his cause, probably attracted by his dazzling conception and description of theocratic views. But if the majority of the disciples thus urgently recommended him to the Lord, or were even willing to be answerable for him, it surely belonged to the manner in which Jesus, in His love, dealt as a Master with their weakness, that He did not risk losing with Judas a portion also of His disciples, but that He rather left them to find out Judas’ character by the bitter way of experience. For this also would explain in the clearest manner Jesus proceeding, when afterwards He subjected them to an inward judgment, by including them for a time with Judas in the words: ‘One of you shall betray Me!’ But here, too, we see again how blind most of them were to Judas’ knavery. The betrayer lay, so to speak, on their bosom, as John lay on Jesus’ bosom; and they well deserved that their Master’s fearful word should terrify them one and all.1 But a ‘critic’2 reminds us that, according to John, Jesus distinctly anticipated the treachery, and not only the treachery itself, but also the motive which led to it-covetousness and avarice. And on this hypothesis he then proceeds to attack the moral permissibility of Judas’ election, not certainly in order to contest the election itself, but to dispute John’s account. At last he heightens the Evangelist’s words (John 6:64), that ‘Jesus knew from the beginning who they were that believed not, and who should betray Him,’ with a definite assertion that Jesus knew this from the beginning of His acquaintance with Judas. We, however, cannot but see that the Evangelist speaks more indefinitely. And if we recall the scene to which he refers, we find that an important turn had come in the life of Jesus. Already, at the feast of Purim, the great conflict had taken place with the Jewish authorities, which was bringing on His open persecution, and even the Galilean Pharisees were already beginning openly to assault Him. At that time many of His disciples deserted Him. Jesus appeared desirous of taking advantage of this juncture to free the circle of His disciples from the impure spirit which He might have more and more plainly discerned, and which might be getting more and more opposed to Him. ‘Will ye also go away?’ He says to the Twelve. Peter answered this question by a glorious declaration, but he had not entirely perceived what Jesus meant. Therefore Jesus now explains Himself more clearly: ‘One of you is a devil!’ This shows that He was deeply oppressed by the presence of this one, and that the end of this one was even now present to His soul. But it also shows how incapable most of the disciples, as yet, were of mistrusting Judas. They remarked nothing, and Judas remained, without giving a sign that he had felt himself hit. John, however, appears to have understood the spiritual bearing of those words of Jesus. Even on this subject he was, no doubt, the confidant of Jesus, in that, with his high moral sensitiveness, and with his finer sympathy for the moods and gestures of Jesus, he had begun also to see through the traitor. We feel in his Gospel how oppressive the presence of the unhappy man in the apostolic circle became to him; and also, this peculiarity of his Gospel is a distinct though commonly overlooked proof of its Johannic character.1 John, then, deeply felt that this connection of the Lord with the traitor, ‘viewed from the side of inclination,’2 was not easy to bear; but he also understood that his Master was moved by high motives to sacrifice the intensity of inclination, which generally in important affairs affecting the world’s history is not wont to find readily what is to its taste. The character of Judas exhibits a remarkable energy. He is certainly, in certain respects, though not in gnostic extravagance, to be considered as the veriest antipodes of Jesus. Just as in Jesus the light side of humanity stands in its completeness before us in individual being, so in Judas does the shadow side of the same come before us-not in his essential nature indeed, but in his activity. In the first we see the glorification of the Israelite into a perfected God-man; in the latter, the obscuration of the Jew into an organ of hellish power. We find Judas in the circle of the Twelve, and we are forced thereby to the conclusion, independent of any nearer tokens, that he had obtained his entrance through strong expressions of his zeal for the cause of Jesus. We see him largely enjoying the confidence of the majority of the disciples. The fact of their entrusting him with the small travelling purse signified, no doubt, in their theocratic expectations, that they had also already marked him out to be treasurer in their Master’s kingdom. We see how deeply excitable this nature is for forming extraordinary expectations. He shares for a long time in the doubtful position which the disciples of Jesus occupied with the Sanhedrim and with the popular mind, because he forebodes that something great, something extraordinary, would arise from his thus acting. How great must this man’s gifts have been, who could so deeply insinuate himself into the disciples’ friendship that he even succeeded in prejudicing them against their Master’s anointing, that most beautiful glorification of His life, and thus in some degree shaking their faith in the Lord! In his power of outward self-control he exhibits the strength of a demon. The clearest references made to him by Jesus do not discompose him, do not cause him to move a muscle. With fearful consistency, he prosecutes his purpose of forcing a gain out of his connection with Jesus; even to the frenzy of guilt, one might say. So also is testimony borne to his great energy by his soiled repentance, discomposed as it was by worldly sorrow from all saving elements. But it testifies also to his horrible distraction of soul. In this colossal passion of his, in his way of exhibiting it with pathos, ay, even with poetry, in the striking mock-heroism with which he goes and proclaims his evil deed to the priests, in that fearful irony with which he throws down the thirty pieces of silver in the temple, and in the manner in which he rushes upon suicide, hanging himself over an abyss, seeking death in a twofold way,-in all this there gleams out upon us the gloomy glare of a certain demonish and eccentric geniality-not unfashionable in modern experience. In the synoptical catalogue of the apostles, Judas always stands at the end, as the last. In the list of the apostles in the Acts, his name has disappeared. If we compare these catalogues together, we see that a triple dividing of the Twelve into groups of four persons (quaternions) is common to them all.1 This arrangement no doubt rests on a recollection on the part of the Evangelists of the order in which Jesus arranged the apostles. But besides this, it no doubt shows that they had before their eyes the significance of the number Twelve. The number Three is the number of the Spirit, the number Four is the number of the world; but the number Twelve must surely represent the world in her spiritual fulness, in the spiritual unity of her various powers. And hence the life of Israel ramified itself into the life of his twelve sons, the life of Christ into that of His twelve apostles, and the riches of the city of God, which represents the fulness of riches which belongs to Christ’s life (Revelation 21:1-27), into her twelve gates-her ways of entrance and exit-which adorn in threes the four sides of the city. Hence it is not to be wondered at, that also in the apostolic catalogue the number Twelve should appear interwoven with the number Three. Each group in its unity has the Spirit of Christ, each stands forth a little world entire in its number four. In each group is found an adjustment of different gifts. But in the third group rule the sons of Alpheus, mighty in the law: hence this group appears naturally to point forward to a completion not merely through Matthias, but also through Saul. In single details transpositions are found, such as the several Evangelists might be disposed to adopt. Since the Evangelist Mark has preserved the fact that Jesus sent forth His disciples by twos, we may presume that he has borne this in mind in setting down the order of the apostles. According to that, the creeping disposition of Judas Iscariot would in a most fitting manner be neutralized by the daring, fiery spirit of Simon Zelotes, whilst perhaps, further, the politic acuteness of the former might preserve the latter from falling into blindness. But the Lord’s sending His disciples out in twos surely points to this, that as yet He considered no one of them as an individual to be strong and pure and rich enough to represent His cause. In each one there was something to encourage, to keep under, to control, and to supply; and thus, in this respect, the one must conduce to the other’s perfection. So of old Moses and Aaron were united that they might carry on Jehovah’s cause against Pharaoh; as also in the Reformation, Luther and Melanchthon. The synoptic Evangelists explicitly declare that Jesus now selected His disciples to form the number Twelve. Also in John’s Gospel we find somewhere about this time the Twelve first mentioned as a select and determinate body (John 6:67). At the same time, it is clear that the Twelve were now chosen by Jesus to be in a definite sense His apostles. Concerning diplomatic affairs in Judea, Von Ammon remarks (vol. ii. p. 1): ‘Ambassadors (ùìåçéí) who are charged by any authority with an important commission had, according to Jewish laws, a title to the same dignity which the sender possessed (áøëåú v. 3, Mishna); hence also Christ, who is Himself called an apostle (Hebrews 3:1) by virtue of His heavenly mission, asserts in His person the majesty of His Father (John 5:23).1 Hence in Judea they more especially distinguished the ambassadors of the king, and of the high priest and Sanhedrim, or the great council, as taking precedence of others. After these followed the authorized agents of single churches (äöáåã ùÑìåçé, ἀπόστολοι τῆς ἐκκλησίας), who even in the New Testament bear this name (Acts 13:2; 2 Corinthians 8:23). From these remarks, it is already clear that among the Israelites the dignity of an apostle had important gradations.’ We now plainly see that, considering the clearly defined principles concerning ambassadors and messengers which existed amongst His people, Christ also could not make His apostles His messengers in an uncertain, indefinite sense. Rather the number Twelve, as well as His more explicit declaration later (John 20:21), points to the inference that they were through the Spirit to be the representatives in the world of Himself, in the fulness and power of His life. With the mission itself is joined an endowment which is in keeping with the stage of spiritual development at which the apostles had now arrived, and with the object of their mission. They have, namely, to replace and to diffuse the present activity of Jesus; therefore, in conjunction with the commission of preaching the Gospel, He gives them the power of casting out unclean spirits and healing the sick. This power they receive in its real force by hiding in their heart His wonder-working word of authority, and by working in accordance therewith, in faith on His name and in fellowship with His Spirit. This consideration, then, also makes us see all through into the instructions which Matthew represents the ‘Lord as giving the Twelve on the occasion of His separating them for this service. The distinctness of their instructions corresponds to the distinctness of their commission. The more public delivery of the latter corresponds with the more public significance of the former. But also in its whole connection this discourse bears the stamp of unity; although even here the Evangelist may in the details have occasionally heightened the colouring by recollections of other discourses. But even with reference to such appearances, we ought, no doubt, to bear in mind that it is the Lord’s custom to blend with what is special some kindred general subject, and to set forth the union of the two in a symbolical form of expression which is more or less like that of the prophetical writings.1 First the route is marked out (Matthew 10:5-6). The disciples are not to go into the way of the Gentiles, neither are they to enter any cities of the Samaritans; but rather they are to turn to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. This rather shows that the direction is an economical one. During the present journey there is no time whatever for working as yet outside Israel. The first thing above all is to bring salvation to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Subsequently the same rule is followed, though in a different wording. First they were to preach the name of Christ in Jerusalem and in Judea, then in Samaria, and afterwards to all nations (Acts 1:8). But this direction, in its inmost sense, remains still an unchanging law of the kingdom: we are to turn with the message of God’s kingdom first to those who are ready to receive it, who are prepared for it, who are positively longing for it; then to those who are less susceptible, less prepared, who feel less longing for it; and last of all to those who are in all respects the least predisposed to receive it. Hence even this rule in its spiritual application can so shape itself, that it appears to contradict its first literal expression (Acts 17:18); but even in this case were to be held sacred the great historical preparations of God’s grace in nations and individuals (Acts 28:17). They now know the way; next they receive their commission. They are to announce the approach of the kingdom of God, with its salvation; and they are to confirm this announcement of salvation through certain acts of healing: on the one hand, through quickening cures, in healing the sick and raising the dead; on the other hand, through purifying cures, in cleansing the lepers and in the healing of possessed persons, whereby they purged the world of unclean spirits, of demons. This is briefly the instruction for Christ’s messengers for every time. They have to proclaim the approach of God’s kingdom. Herein is contained a threefold direction: first, that they should, in the spirit of pious devotion and of concern for the welfare of men, preach of the kingdom of God as of a great and glorious reality, which they bring, and which they must confirm with the word and Spirit of Christ; secondly, that in the spreading of this message they deal as circumstances require it, training, preparing, and pioneering; thirdly, that they ever retain the consciousness that the establishment and perfecting of this kingdom in its full character is not their own affair, but Christ’s, who throughout follows up and seals their work in the glorious riches of His Spirit and of His being. But everywhere they must confirm their healing words by healing works in the sphere of natural human life. The preaching of the Gospel must never cease to exhibit healing power. It is radically a healing of the sick, even a raising of the dead, wherever it is really alive, even when it performs no immediate miracles of this kind, and especially no raisings from the dead. It is likewise a constant purification of life from its chronic evils, from leprosy, ay, a freeing of mankind from demons, even when no immediate and miraculous exorcising of devils takes place. For with the restoration of hearts through the Gospel begins in truth a healing which streams through life on every side. But this truth must also be verified by the messengers of the Gospel always, in some way or other, showing themselves the guardian spirits of men in their bodily misery. The commission, then, is given to the disciples in all its fulness, even though they did not at once” possess faith to raise the dead, and though they even experienced failure in some attempts to cast out demons through a want of fulness of faith. For it is indeed the apostolic authority which is here given; consequently it is in part a direction for the present, and in part a promise for the future,-a call not merely to outward individual acts of deliverance, but to the spiritual operations which culminate in those individual acts, and therefore are also symbolized by them. After this the Lord specifies the terms upon which they are to proclaim the Gospel to the world (Matthew 10:8). Freely they have received it, freely they are to give it. The messengers of Christ must ever move in the same element of free love in which they are born. Nowhere, either publicly or privately, directly or indirectly, must they make payment or recompense a condition of their ministry; for they are just bound to preach as truly and certainly as that they exist as Christians, whether men give them money for doing it, or death. The preaching of the Gospel is ever to retain this impress, that it will not be paid for, that it cannot be paid for, that it is the highest, freest expression of love and of redeemed life. The Apostle Peter showed how carefully he had preserved this word of Christ’s when he indignantly bid away from him Simon Magus with his money. But everywhere, wherever spiritual offices in the Church were sold, there also had disappeared the remembrance of this blessed kingdom of free love and mercy; and as men traded with the spiritual office, so did the spiritual office trade with the good things of the kingdom of heaven. The one is ever closely connected with the other. In proportion as men have became acquainted with free grace in its perfect glory, they are driven to proclaim it freely out of real love to the work; in proportion, on the contrary, as men turn grace into a reward of works, into a price for venality, they also consider the office which proclaims such an obscured kingdom of heaven, which they have made into a sanctimonious legality, as a marketable affair, a business bringing in income. But yet, afterwards the Lord shows His disciples in what way their maintenance is to be provided for. Above all things it is expedient and necessary that they should go forth free from cares; for in proportion as they carefully and anxiously provide for their journey, they cease to be cheerful, spirit-free evangelists. The first journey upon which He sent them was eminently fitted to make this clear to them. Now, on their departure, they were literally not to trouble themselves about any kind of provision. They were not to make provision first as if they were going into a strange country; consequently, they were not to be careful about a previous supply of money for their support, or of provisions in scrips, or of a change of raiment,1 or of travelling shoes2 and pilgrims’ staves,3 as if they were going from one foreign country into another, whereas they were rather travelling from the kingdom of love into the kingdom of love, everywhere with the Gospel finding a new home and their maintenance. Therefore they were to go just as they were; for they would wander through friendly regions close in front of the Lord, where they would be everywhere received with open arms. But these directions, as they applied literally to the first missionary expedition of the apostles, apply too in their spiritual meaning to the whole futurity of the missionary office; ay, and even with respect to the Christian’s pilgrimage through life, they are of the highest significance.4 The messengers of Christ must not lose their time, their courage, their strength, their thoughts, the solid unity of their inner and outer life, in over-anxious preparations for their mission. They must not go forth either with the many wants of the lover of comfort, nor with the much-ado of excited eagerness, still less with the dread of entering an utterly strange world. In order to remove from their minds this apprehension, the Lord assigns them their proper subsistence with the words: The labourer is worthy of his hire. They must not allow themselves to be paid for the Gospel; but wherever they labour, the Lord will provide for their labour being requited them. They must place their confidence in Him that He would accompany them everywhere, and everywhere provide for them. But they must trust likewise to their work, that it will everywhere find its hire in connection with success and its recognition, that with the hearts of men it will gain its hospitality and its compensation. In this sense, therefore, the apostles are boldly to regard themselves as labourers, as artizans or artists of the new world, who everywhere, surely, are properly appreciated, valued, and compensated, so as never to have to suffer want. In this spirit they are to traverse the world as the birds soar through the air, and as the bards used to wander free from care in the beautiful days of poesy, light of wing, lyre in hand, like blessed spirits soaring above the world’s sorrow and unrest.1 Upon these general instructions for the apostolic office, there now follow more particular directions. First, they learn in what way, within their sphere of labour, they are to deliver their message to the world, that is to say, the method of their ministry. But this method, again, is entirely a way of the spirit and the heart. They must everywhere faithfully follow the delicate susceptibility for their ministry, and they must everywhere give way of their own free will before the hard repulse of unsusceptibility, that they may lose no time and strength, but-most delicately making their way between the attracting and repelling powers of the world, moving like the lightnings of heaven in a zigzag fashion, delicate and yet triumphantly strong in the right drawings of spiritual life-force their way everywhere; and thus, in rapid progress from place to place, conquer the world.2 Yet with this delicate flexibility is to be joined the most faithful perseverance. On their entrance into a place, they must first inquire who there is willing to receive them. And into the house thus recommended to them they are to enter with the Gospel greeting of peace, with the wishing to others of that peace which they possess and proclaim.1 This greeting will never be lost. In the most favourable case, the house will receive it, or, at all events, some single member in the house (Luke 10:6); and then their peace shall rest upon that house (ἐλθέτω). He blesses that house already in spirit. In the other case, the house will refuse their greeting; and then they themselves gain the blessing of this greeting,-their apostolic energy, that is to say, will only be fanned into a brighter flame. Of course, here it is understood that they do not by their own fault incur an unfavourable reception. Taking this for granted, He enters into the position in which they would find themselves as rejected ones, and speaks the comforting word of power: Let your peace return to you! But when a house receives well both them and their message, they are to remain there until they leave that place. Thus they are not to act with fickleness, and least of all with ambiguity in respect to worldly relations. They must give no one up lightly and hastily. But above all things they must seek to gain the house as such, the whole family circle as a natural foundation-pillar of the Church. In the form of domestic life they must erect inextinguishable hearths of faith. But if no one in the place is willing to receive them, they must at once depart, and shake off the dust from their feet as a sign that that place has become an unclean, Gentile place, even though it should lie in the midst of Judea; real heathen ground, worse than Sodom and Gomorrah, and doomed to heavy judgment.2 Upon this the Lord prepares them for the truth, that a bad reception, which they did not expect, awaited them from men, and gives them directions for their right behaviour towards their adversaries. It is indeed true, as has been remarked, that most of the persecutions which He here predicts did not befall them until afterwards, when they went forth as apostles. But none the less did they feel immediately, even now, the beginning of these sufferings as Christ’s disciples. As from the first the Lord had to deal with dangerous opposers, so also had they: they too must at once learn that an eternal opposition exists between what is evil in man and their message of salvation. And for this it was necessary that they should be prepared. Young evangelists, when they commence, are apt to think that the world is after all not so bad; they will set forth the kingdom of heaven so beautifully, so comprehensibly, so irresistibly, that all must come to the faith.1 They go forth into the world without any adequate foreboding of the demoniacal depth of the world’s depravity; and thus they are in danger of committing great errors, and in consequence meeting with experiences by which they may become shaken, and even perish. The disciples of Jesus were still full of excessive worldly hopes, for as yet they knew but little of Christ’s path of the cross. Therefore it was that He told them in plain and strong terms what lay before them, and opened up to them the whole perspective of suffering far beyond their present journey. They might be expecting to shine in the synagogues, and to stand before governors and kings as all-subduing defenders of Israel’s glory; therefore He tells them how they have to look forward to the exact opposite of all this. Here also it may have been His intention to prove and sift His circle of apostles through these predictions. ‘Behold,’ He says with increasing emphasis, ‘I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves.’ Thus, according to human view, they are clean lost from the very first, if they were to venture amongst enemies; a few amongst so many, the defenceless amongst the strong, the good amongst the evil, the guileless amongst those practised in cunning. What are they to do? Whilst in the den of wolves, they must transform themselves, so to say, into serpents and doves, by imitating the wisdom of the former and the harmlessness of the latter. These are opposite virtues, such as nature does not exhibit in their unity, nor yet does the natural life of man; but the Spirit of Christ does. For this Spirit ever comprehends all natural qualities into a living unity and a glorified form; and therefore also that swiftness of the serpent’s wisdom, wherein the threatened one fearfully at a distance keeps his eyes fixed upon his opponent, and, winding himself away in a thousand ways, disappears; as also that pious true-heartedness of the dove’s simplicity, wherein he confidingly approaches his opposer, never harms him, at worst, only like a happy spirit soars above him. ‘Beware of men!’ is then added, without reserve, without qualification. ‘They will deliver you up to the councils, they will scourge you in their synagogues, and ye shall be brought before governors and kings. And this will happen to you for this one cause, because ye belong to Christ. And this God will permit to happen, not that ye may be judged, but the world,-for a testimony against them and the Gentiles whom they represent.’ But now Jesus tells them how they are to behave in these fearful positions,-namely, that again they are only not to be anxious. They must take no thought what they shall speak in the decisive moment: no thought as to the how, or the form which they shall choose; no thought as to the what, or the appropriate matter. But, on the contrary, they must live and breathe in the full persuasion that the right thing will be given to them in the decisive hour. Yes, they would, so to speak, have nothing to do, and they would entirely disappear from the scene; the Spirit of the Father would speak through them. Christ knew, as no man could know, how studied and premeditated oratory can check and confine and kill the genuine life of the Spirit, and how easily the anxiety for the right word deadens the faith which supplies the right word; how, on the contrary, He, the most faithful life, produces in the deepest inward being of His communion those streams of the Spirit which for every situation furnish the right word and the right form. Thus did He seek to suppress in His disciples that world of anxieties for oratory and fine eloquence which, even in its remains up to the present day, is doing such unspeakable harm to His cause. Certainly He therewith supposes that His disciples harbour no other worldly thoughts in their heart, but that they really live in His cause, ever thinking, and therefore preparing, meditating, and inwardly musing therein, and consequently living in the most thorough preparation: pure and susceptible organs of His eternal Spirit.1 And, moreover, in these persecutions they must not imagine, as they perhaps might, that they could only be persecuted by the powerful of the earth. It may happen, either to them or to those whom they have converted, that they may be persecuted even by their nearest relations. They must be prepared even for such a horrible thing as that the brother should prepare the heretic’s death for his brother, the father for the son; or that children should act as zealous persecutors of their parents,-that they should rise up to exterminate them from the earth. Even amid such terrible manifestations, when they should be tried in their tenderest feelings, in their sensitiveness with regard to the great blessings of domestic life, of domestic peace, they yet must hold their ground-by His name, by His truth and love, which is superior to all else. This is endurance to the utmost; it does not allow itself to be scared away even by the most frightful appearances from the standard in which it has recognized true life and the rescue of life for all, even for enemies. Only they are at once clearly to understand the worst, that they must be hated for His name’s sake, and from the first make up their minds to the highest and most difficult enterprise of all: to continue steadfast to the end. But now, after thus holding up before them their mission in all its difficulty, the Lord proceeds to give them all the consolation of which they stand in need. First, He tells them that they may flee from the places where they are persecuted. It is true that they must only flee in order that the Gospel may not be forced upon men, in order that they may lose no unnecessary time and strength, in order that they may with the more speed carry salvation to other places where it will be received. And here He gives them the great consolation, that they will not have gone over the cities of Israel in their evangelizing mission until the Son of man be come. First, that applies to the immediate tour which they were about to take, in which He will soon join them; then, further, it applies to their apostolical ministry in Judea, which will be followed by His glorious coming in judgment upon Judea; and lastly, it applies to the operations of His messengers in the towns of the spiritual Israel throughout the world, who will be interrupted in the gradual unfolding of their mission in the world’s history by the great coming of the Son of man in His glory.1 The peculiar point of this consolation consists in this, that they shall ever find new spheres of work full of untried susceptibility, that the Lord will everywhere follow them with the spiritual baptism of His grace, with the fiery baptism of His judgment. But the theocratic ground-thought of this assurance is, we may consider, this: It is not in a career of idyllic peacefulness that the work of Christ shall be accomplished, in a tranquil development of the work of conversion down to the last place and the last man; but in a career of epic conflict, which, through combined operations of salvation on a large scale, calls forth mighty variances between light and darkness in the world, and through these at last the sudden and decisive catastrophes of the divine judgment. But a second consolation they are to find in this, that in the persecutions which they endure, they share His own fate; as disciples, as servants, as belonging to His household. The disciple is not above his master; therefore as His disciples they must be willing to renounce the world’s approbation, for the master-works of their Master it has criticized as unprofitable and hurtful labour. The servant is not above his lord; therefore they must look for no brilliant position in the world, in which so grievous a fate awaits their Lord. The members of the household know that they must share the same fortunes as the master of the house, and it is their pride and delight so to do. If, then, they are faithful members of His household, they must remember that the Master of the house has already been called Beelzebub,2 and accordingly they must joyfully accept their lot. The third consolation they next receive in the summons to that fearless, supernaturally high and independent behaviour which Jesus now marks out for them. Above all things, they must not carry about with them the misery of timidity, of pusillanimous dejection. They are to know that there is a time when everything that is covered shall be revealed, and everything that is hid in the world shall be known. Then shall all the wicked secrets of their opposers come to light. Therefore, in diffusing their faith, that most precious of all mysteries, they should least of all do it with an endeavour after secrecy, as if it were some bad mystery. They are to know that His Gospel will fain become a revelation for all nations; He will have them make no secret society, no lodge, no party or school out of His mission. What He imparts to them in the darkness of the quiet, solitary, or nightly intercourse, they are to speak out in the world’s daylight. What He whispers, so to speak, in their ear as a secret, they must proclaim from the house-tops. To be sure, He appears from this to expect that they should work with greater openness than He Himself saw fit to do. But in this direction the Lord simply expresses the vital law of the unfolding of His revelation. He must first have established His work in them, before they can establish it in the world. Therefore, He forms in them at first a school; but they, on the other hand, must not again form schools, but found a congregation, just because His salvation is meant for all the world. Until His life was closed, even to His glorification, the most profound words and facts of His life, with which He had made them acquainted, could not become the common property, through His Spirit, of the world; but when that time has come, then they are commissioned to proclaim to the world these secrets which had been entrusted to them. We shall understand exactly this direction of the Lord’s, if we call in the aid of the Gospel narrative. The real sermon on the mount, for example, the account of the transfiguration of Jesus, His conflict in Gethsemane, were such secrets, which at the right time they published to all the world. They too must certainly not neglect the rules of proceeding which the Spirit dictates; they must with caution and prudence commence and establish and bring about their preaching of His salvation in the world. In particular must they attend to the command not to make that which is holy common, through too hastily communicating it. But from the very first they must fully understand that the whole Gospel is joyously struggling to become the world’s light; and, urged on by this vital impulse, they are fearlessly to work, with the confidence that a time will come when all the secrets of the Gospel will shine forth in God’s perfect lustre, accompanied by the perfect evidence of the Spirit, throughout the world; and when all the wicked secrets of the world will be disclosed and judged; and that then, too, the sanctuary of their inner life will stand revealed before the world in its right light.1 And even the danger of being put to death by men must not cause them to stumble in this matter. They must not tremble before any of those clumsy persecutors who can only kill the body. There is only one fear that they must know, and that is, the fear of the wicked enemy who, as dwelling within the soul, and ever able to make her plastic powers the basis of his operations, is able to destroy the soul with the body in hell.1 If, in holy watchfulness, in spirit-like earnestness, they keep themselves ever prepared for this formidable adversary, they will then become ever more and more completely free from all fear of men. And this, too, they must not even so much as imagine, namely, that men can put them to death at their pleasure. No man can dispose even of the fate of sparrows with his arrow, without being permitted to do it by God, although two of these sparrows may be bought for one farthing.2 Still less, therefore, can a man dispose of the life of the Christian without God’s permission; indeed, unless He ordains it. ‘The very hairs of your head are all numbered,’ the Lord says to His disciples, making use of the strongest figure He could find. Which means to say: Your life cannot be injured even in the smallest part. But when this does happen, it happens under God’s disposal, who does away with the injury, and renews your whole life in eternity. You are not, then, allowed to be anxious even about a hair of your head, to say nothing of your head itself. In the most serene and cheerful spirit of confidence it is added, ‘Ye are of more value than many sparrows,’ than a whole flight of sparrows. If you once try to estimate yourself by this standard, it will become clear to you with what mighty power the God who even counts up the sparrows has secured and fixed your life; you will then feel quite secure that He will deliver your life from all injury and from martyrdom itself, and will restore it in the most perfect splendour in which it can appear. The fifth is still more important. They have only in His name to confess themselves His without shrinking, and to be assured of this, that He too will confess them before His heavenly Father, that He will welcome them and bless them as His own before the throne of God. And the Lord gives still greater strength to this promise by representing the fearful contrast, that whoever denies Him, who persists in the denial of His name, him at the judgment-day will He also deny before God, that is, will thrust him away from Him as a stranger. But He explains why the bearing witness of Him must be called a confession even to the world’s end. The world, in her unchanging mediocrity, and her undecided vacillation betwixt heaven and hell, punishes two different kinds of things: worldly crime and-heavenly virtues, or the vital utterances of faith, of the god-like mind, of the higher knowledge. These last she even punishes with especial zeal, considering them to be the worst worldly crimes. Therefore the witness concerning Christ is ever a risk in the world; it is very likely to be treated and punished as a criminal act, and thus it continues to be a confession. This Jesus now explains by a distinct illustration. The peace which He brings to earth can only become peace to all mankind through manifold kinds of strife. It is not to be so easily cast upon the earth (ver. 34) as one throws alms to a beggar. Concerning this the Prince of peace was quite clear Himself, and He will not in the very least hide it from His disciples; therefore He expresses Himself strongly, and says, that He is not come to bring peace, but the sword. With the holy sword of His word He combats the corruptions of the world; the unholy sword of misrepresentation and persecution from the world’s side He brings upon Himself and His disciples. And not only on the large scale, but also on the small, must He give rise to this war, ay, from house to house. Everywhere shall discord arise on His account: between son and father, between daughter and mother, between daughter-in-law and mother-in-law; and some of His confessors will be hated by all their household. And in such cases their witness of Him must become throughout a difficult confession. But that must cause them no perplexity. For He is bold sovereignly to lay down the rule: he that loveth any one of his relations more than Me is not worthy of Me. Such an one is not worthy of Him, for He loves not his relations in Him; therefore he loves Him not in His truest character as embracing humanity: and such an one again loves not Him in his relations, loves not that which in them is best and eternal; therefore them too he does not truly love. True love has pleasure in the eternal, essential traits belonging to personalities, viewed in their relation to the personality of Christ, which unites all; therefore it loves Him above all, whose image reappears in the character of all, who saves them all. And He who loves in this pure sense can cheerfully bear all the misunderstanding of men, and thus he is worthy of Him. And now the Lord utters a fearfully solemn word, the word of the cross. ‘And he that taketh not his cross and followeth after Me, cannot be My disciple.’ In this form, in this tide of the discourse, this word looks as if it were a presentiment of His innermost being which had escaped Him. But perhaps just in this way He would most prefer for the first time to announce to them the horror which lay before Him and before them. For Him, certainly, the future of His suffering on the cross was no longer any secret. They, however, could, and most probably they would, consider the expression first of all as a figure, which was only meant to announce to them heavy suffering, and especially the suffering of the extremest worldly disgrace, and of the most painful sentences of their judges; and in this sense they could easily understand this word, since they were well acquainted with the most painful kind of Roman execution. But if here, again, the Lord saw fit to declare the worst at once, in order to prove and to purify His disciples, yet the requirement only served in its further purpose to call forth the sixth word of comfort: ‘He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for My sake shall find it.’ Judas found his life, the life of his self-will, in the thirty pieces of silver; but for that he lost his true life. The other disciples, on the contrary, lost their life, the life of their worldly hope, when Jesus was crucified; and they sought not to save fragments of it by deserting to the enemy; they gave up their old life as clean lost to God’s disposal, and thus they gained the new and the true life. The maxim which Christ here lays down is so comprehensive, so unfathomably deep, that we could not dare to hope to exhaust its meaning, even if we had time and room sufficient for it. All the mysteries of the worldly as well as of the divine life are here compressed into one short contrast. To every man is his cross assigned. Divine guidance cuts through and crosses the way of his heart. Now he who, resolute in his own ways of selfishness, withdraws himself from this crossing, which may reach even to crucifixion, such an one loses his life. Every day he loses the life of life, the peace of God; further, also, the life which he wanted to save, the prosperity of his temporal existence; and at length, too, the life in glory, which can only take its being from the cross; and ever, all through, does he lose the vital principle of all life, Christ Himself. But he, on the contrary, who is able to give up his life for Christ’s sake, having known Him to be the Life of life, such an one only gains fresh divine assurance of life out of every death agony; he rescues his existence from amongst a host of mortal dangers, and at length he will have gained in death itself the glorification of his life, because he has found in his Redeemer the Prince of life. And this life is the fundamental thought, the promise, in which Christ’s solemn maxim issues: the sixth word of comfort. At length the Lord dismisses His messengers with the seventh word of comfort, wherein He tells them with what dignity they are surrounded, and what blessings they diffuse. Their dignity consists in this, that they represent Him, and in Him the heavenly Father Himself. They go forth in the name of the Father, and in the name of Christ. And as this name is high which as messengers they proclaim, so is the blessing glorious which they diffuse in the world. With them the Father comes to men, to such as receive them; and therewith Christ’s salvation, the peace of God. This rests upon a fixed law of life. By receiving a man in the name of a certain spiritual life, that is, in the disposition and determination to receive the particular kind of life which that man is extending abroad, one puts into activity thereby a congeniality of spirit with him; one enters into spiritual fellowship with him as the bearer of this life; and one becomes a sharer in his spiritual enjoyment, in his spiritual life thereby, and therefore in his reward. Thus it is in every department of life. Receptive spirits enter into spiritual fellowship with productive spirits, into the enjoyment and possession of the same life: they become one with them, as a bride with her bridegroom. He who thus receives the poet by entering into the spirit of his mood and poetry, anticipating, loving, and revering, he enters with him in spirit into the beautiful realm of poesy. Jesus first illustrates this universal law of life by the example of a prophet. He who receives a prophet of the kingdom of God, and thus acknowledges his divine mission and enters into his divine lore, becomes a partner in his supermundane mind and in his blessed hope. The same applies to the reception of a righteous man. Christ can hardly have meant here a righteous man in the Old Testament sense, since He was not only proclaiming the New Testament fulfilment of righteousness, but was also showing it forth in His life. Rather, when taken in connection with the rest of His doctrine, His word must surely contain a reference to the intrinsic righteousness of His life. And, accordingly, we find in this passage a general reference to the righteousness of faith, which is the proper key-note of life in His kingdom, and salvation in this righteousness. The righteous man’s reward is salvation. Now, if a man receives a really righteous man in the name of a righteous man, that is, with a real view of intrinsic righteousness, and with devotion to it, then he enters into spiritual fellowship with him and his reward, and thus becomes a sharer in the glory of his life and in his salvation. After this come the little ones who are only now beginning in the school of Christ to become His apostles, but who already, even as His disciples, are to be esteemed in the world according to the commission which they hold from Him. Whoever receives them as such, as disciples of Christ, shall receive a disciple’s reward. He will thus become a partner in their apostolic spiritual life. In all these cases, the distinction of caste or the distinction of order between the different members in the kingdom of God, is in the main throughout set aside. The prophet is indeed distinguished from the receiver of his prophecy in respect to his official calling, or even in his individual talent; but with respect to the reward, to the quality, and to the enjoyment of the spiritual life, they stand together on the same level. And thus it is likewise with respect to the operations of the righteous man, as also of the apostles. Wherever the Spirit of God brings about true spiritual fellowship between the officially working mind and the receiving mind, there there is perfected a parity of rank, and an elective affinity in sonship with God and spiritual fellowship; there the distinction is at an end between priests and laymen. But through this threefold illustration of the same law of life, Christ has vouchsafed us a precious view of the extension of God’s kingdom. Not only in the prophets, but also in all who understand them, therefore in a rich world of the prophetical inner life, does the dawn of this kingdom break. Not only in the Righteous Man, in Christ, does the bright day of His intrinsic righteousness shine forth, but also in a whole world of His believers. And not only in His messengers does this light-life unfold itself, but in all those likewise who receive them as His messengers. That in His illustration of this law of life, the Lord must have had a motive in the particular examples which He made use of1-that He drew in them a distinct sketch of the spreading of God’s kingdom, is shown by the fact that He finally returns again to His disciples and their mission. He has now made it clear to them that they go forth from Him in order to spread His heavenly life. But now in His concluding sentence He brings forward a special thought: ‘Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, shall in no wise lose his reward.’ The fact is here expressed, that the disciples are as yet but little beginners with respect to their apostolic mission. But apparently the word has also an especial reference to the blemishes in their circle, particularly to Judas. The Lord called them little ones in order that they might not imagine that He considered them as perfected, or as all, one with another, pure bearers of His name. And in both allusions He expresses the truth, that His blessing is not merely dependent upon their individuality, but also upon the readiness of men to receive them as His disciples. They were to know what an important contrast with them might present itself in this susceptibility in individual cases, carrying with it a blessing of Christ, so that they would stand there as little ones in face of such chosen spirits. Thus, for example, any one, like Mary at Bethany, with a susceptibility which towered far above the spiritual power of an inferior apostle, viewed in his individual character, might receive a greater fulness of spiritual blessing out of his message than he himself might individually be capable of. Yes, even he who received Judas Iscariot as a disciple, received a disciple’s reward, although Judas himself was no true disciple. And even the smallest outward token that one receives a disciple, is a proof of spiritual fellowship with Him whom He proclaims. At first sight these grand instructions of Christ’s appear to end with a very small and trivial remark, when Christ adds, that whoever shall refresh them with a cup of cold water, because they are disciples, shall not lose his reward. But in this apparent littleness, we only seem to see the delicacy and the grandeur of this last word of Jesus’ concerning His disciples’ ministry. If we rightly understand this concluding word, it seems to look like the tip of an oak-tree. Such a tip is nothing but a tender twig, but it rests on a mighty foundation, it stands forth on high, it displays the very strongest vitality of the oak itself. And so, in this concluding word, Christ says to His disciples that His name, His word and Spirit, may soar far beyond the official bearers of His work; that everywhere His life may already meet them in susceptible hearts, may strengthen and refresh their own selves, ay, and may even instruct and reprove them; that His kingdom is not merely spread by services of love which they render to men, but also through such as are shown to them; and finally, not only by great popular sermons, by counsels, by systems of doctrine, or by great institutions, but also upon the dusty highway, in the juncture of an outward cursory greeting, or of a single demonstration of love, provided only that His friends and His disciples or witnesses bless and greet one another in His name, in the fellowship of His Spirit. The Lord here gives His apostles the assurance, that as messengers of peace from the mountains of the Lord (Isaiah 52:7), they are going down into the dark and gloomy world, but also a world which has generally attained some dim knowledge of Him, and which is already expecting their message, and that therefore His salvation will spread in a measure far surpassing all their thoughts. This last word of comfort must have encouraged them more powerfully than all the others to go forth upon their mission, and to meet all the sufferings attending it with cheerfulness and joy. notes 1. It is wrong, though it is often done, to identify the apostolic with the episcopal office. For the apostolate represents in its completeness that fulness of Christ’s life which is being brought into union with the world, or even the ideal Church itself; whilst the episcopate only forms a particular branch amongst the official functions of life in the organism of the Church, which organism is integrated by other branches (Acts 15:36; Acts 16:4; 1 Corinthians 12:28), and which is conditioned by the presbytery (Acts 20:17; Acts 20:28). Here it must not be overlooked that the apostolic office sought to interpret itself by the co-operation of the congregation, so soon as a congregation or a real church existed (Acts 15:22; 1 Corinthians 12:28). The totality of the apostolic office continues, doubtless, through all times of the Church, because the life of Christ in its fulness is ever present in the Church; but it has spread itself throughout the whole living organism of the Church, and reappears in its several characteristics in all genuine functions of active life put forth by the Church. The collective entirety of the true witness of Christ in the world is the ideal, eternal apostolate. 2. Concerning the identity of the names Lebbeus, Thaddeus, and Judas, comp. again Ebrard, p. 271, where also reference is made to the similarity between the character which is displayed in Jude’s Epistle and the notion of a Lebbeus. 3. If the question is raised, why the name of Nathanael may have been interchanged with the name of Bartholomew, we must consider the significance of the word úìîé. Frst, in his Concordance, translates the word by , and thus Bartholomew would be son of the bold man-the resolute. But if we might suppose that the name was given to him with reference to a derivation from úÌÆìÆí, then it might perhaps denote son of the furrowed field, or of the nation cultivated by God, of God’s field; thus, a true Israelitish plant, a true Israelite. 4. According to Von Ammon (ii. 14, &c.), Luke, in his account of the Lord’s instructions to His disciples, had Matthew before his eyes, and ‘sought in his way to improve upon him;’ and upon this Mark has again made improvements. Here, therefore, the leaf of ‘criticism’ again turns over, or rather the wheel of ‘criticism:’ Mark, who for a long time formed the basis for the other two synoptic Evangelists, becomes the reviser of their accounts. We only quote this in order to show the newest position of ‘criticism’ in reference to this. 5. The instructions which Christ here gives to the twelve apostles, we find again in a shorter form in Luke as directions for the seventy disciples. We shall exhibit the place in the history of Jesus’ life where the sending forth of the seventy disciples appears in its proper place and completely accounted for, and then we shall also have to consider the relation which the two accounts bear to one another. We find in Luke another part of these instructions in another connection as a discourse of Christ’s to His disciples (Luke 12:1-59); the consideration of this part too, in its relation to the instructions, we must defer to its proper place. In the meantime we are justified in considering these instructions in themselves alone as a separate whole, complete in itself, for we might lay ample stress on the close connection, the living unity of all its parts; as also this unity is denoted by the conclusion in ch. 11:1: καὶ ἐγένετο ὅτε ἐτέλεσεν, κ. τ. λ. Compare Strauss, i. 615. Concerning the sentence, ‘Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in My name,’ &c., which Mark has given in a different connection (Mark 9:41), it will be shown in its proper place that he does not introduce the words in an ‘endless confusion,’ as Strauss imagines (i. 618), but in a well-founded connection, which has certainly escaped the critic, so that he thinks himself justified in charging upon the Evangelist a connection resting upon mere assonance of words, which however lies far beyond the range of any such pitiable lexical connection. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 98: 02.101. SECTION XVI ======================================================================== Section XVI the first journey of the apostles. the progress of christ through the towns. the woman who was a sinner. the followers of jesus. the young man at nain (Matthew 11:1. Mark 6:12-13. Luke 7:11-17, Luke 7:36-50; Luke 8:1-18) The disciples then set forth with the power and instructions which Jesus had given them. They proclaimed the commencement of the new kingdom of heaven, and preached repentance. But with especial zeal, such as is explained by the enthusiastic feelings of beginners in the apostolic ministry, they devoted themselves to the casting out of devils. In the cures which they performed, they joined anointing with oil to the miraculous power with which they worked (Mark 6:13; Luke 9:6). Thus they went before, preparing the way for their Master, and that too in the direction of Jerusalem, as is plainly to be gathered from the connection. Thus it might easily happen that here and there some of them might again meet with Him; and we may suppose that Jesus, especially at Jerusalem, where He soon after appeared at the feast of Purim, saw a good many of them again assembled round Him. But the whole company of the apostles did not regularly assemble around Him until after His return from the feast, as is clearly shown from Mark’s account (Mark 6:30-31), as also from Luke’s (Luke 9:10). As has already been intimated, the apostles made for their Lord a freer space for the exercise of His ministry; partly inasmuch as, in particular, through their zeal in working miracles, they kept a crowd of people, especially superficial admirers, from running after Jesus, or drew them after themselves; and partly again by curing many sick people in His name. And hence, in going through the towns where the disciples had already passed (ἐν ταῖς πόλεσιν αὐτῶν, Matthew 11:1), the Lord was able to turn Himself at once to such as were ready to receive Him, and to devote Himself most especially to the work of teaching; although, wherever He went, He was still surrounded by people needing help, and much distress vanished at His presence, which the disciples were not as yet able to relieve. In this expedition the Lord seems first to have visited the towns and villages by the sea. Hence He might soon have reached Magdala, which lay southward on the western shore of the lake. This place, which in all probability is now represented by a poor village, ‘of an almost ruinous appearance,’ called el Mejdel, and situated in a large plain between the Galilean mountains and the sea-shore, in a neighbourhood made lovely by the oleander,1 is known as the birthplace of Mary Magdalene. We have already given the ground which we have for accepting the tradition which says that Mary Magdalene (Luke 8:2) is identical with ‘the woman which was a sinner’ (Luke 7:37).2 It must here be further observed, that that sinner who magnified with such a marvellous strength of soul the redeeming grace of Christ, must in all probability be found again somewhere within the circle of disciples; but also, that it is very easy to be explained why the Evangelists would not describe the former sinner, but would the later disciple. Hence we have ground for presuming that the affair of the anointing, in which ‘the woman which was a sinner’ appears in view, took place at Magdala. For that this occurrence must have taken place in the course of that journey of the Lord’s, which is just here to be set forth, is evident from the fact, that this circumstance comes forward as happening at the same time with John the Baptist’s message to Jesus, of which we shall have to treat presently. If we consider the above-mentioned circumstances together, it strikes us that both suppositions decidedly support one another. The woman which was a sinner becomes to us with much more certainty the woman of Magdala, from the circumstance that Jesus was apparently now in the region of Magdala; and the city of the woman which was a sinner appears to us with all the greater probability to be the town of Magdala, since we already otherwise have indications leading us to recognize that convert in the disciple of Magdala. A Pharisee invited the Lord to be his guest. And He willingly accepted the invitation. The fact that Jesus was not disposed to refuse such an invitation, shows us how entirely He felt Himself master of His own spirit, and that He knew how completely to command even such opportunities as these, and to make them subserve the objects of His kingdom of heaven. Besides this, we may suppose that Jesus took into account the fact, that men are never more open, or more submissive, or more susceptible to the word of love, than when they themselves are in some way showing love; that thus they are most ready to accept the Gospel from the mouth of a guest, and when the mood of their family is that of festive pleasure. To this was no doubt added the motive, that by refusing, Christ might at least have given occasion to the Pharisees to accuse Him of repulsing them. He was so divinely free from all feelings of resentment, from all fear of and prejudice against the party which had so often shown hostility to Him, that He could quietly sit down in a Pharisee’s house. But it was a contingency which excited astonishment (καὶ ἰδού), that just in this place a woman should seek Him out who was known in the city as a sinner, and therefore held in bad repute. If He had not been there, she would not have dared to set foot in that house, which in its perfumed respectability, enveloped, as it were, by a vapour of pharisaical strictness, must have been a terror to such fallen ones as she. And if the woman had not been already inspired by a working of the redeeming grace of Christ-how it had penetrated into her heart we know not-she would certainly not have ventured to seek Him out there. Yes, she might even have thought with despair that Jesus was now far beyond her reach, since He was making Himself friendly with that inexorably strict man. But no fear of this sort can any more spring up in her heart. She is sure of Him, and knows that in Simon’s house He is now Master, King, and Judge. Suddenly then she stands in the middle of the room where the guests were at meat, close behind Jesus, who was reclining on the couch, and at His feet. For His feet it is her purpose to anoint with some ointment which she has brought; and with deepest humility, which dares not presume to anoint His head, she will also show Him the deepest gratitude by sacrificing what was most precious for the benefit of His feet. And as she stands thus close to Him, and is about to offer Him this homage, she breaks out into loud weeping and sinks down on her knees, her tears falling in streams upon His feet. In holy and beautiful confusion, she seems to wish to make amends for having moistened His feet with her tears; she turns about in her mind for some means of drying them, and in her hurry and the excitement of her feelings she can find nothing but the hair of her head. But she sees at once that her hair is but little suited for such a purpose; she considers the feet of Jesus as being doubly dishonoured, both by her tears and by her drying them with her hair; and by a sudden impulse of her heart, she seeks to make amends by covering His feet with her kisses. Thus there follows in rapid succession one feature after another, of agitation, of confusion, of heroic courage, of faith, and of heavenly purity and unreservedness of love: she concludes her holy word by applying the ointment itself. Evidently this narrative is one of the boldest triumphs of the Spirit of Christ and of the spirit of His believers over Pharisaism, in its suspicion, and narrowness, and ascetic anxiety. The moment of the fallen woman’s kissing the feet of Jesus shows the entire heavenly superiority of the spirit of redemption over the mind of the flesh. The woman was now as it were pure in spirit; and in kissing the feet of Christ, a seal was set upon the holiness of her frame of mind, as if her lips had touched the cold stone of her sepulchre, or had been purified by coals of fire from the altar of God. The Lord showed a perfect confidence in the sincerity of this expression of her heart. The scene itself was a feast of Christian reconciliation, seen in its superiority to the spirit of Pharisaism. Hesitations, perplexities were not to be thought of. The Pharisee Simon, it is true, could not enter into any part of this scene. There was in his spirit no apprehension of the truth, that now the angels of God were rejoicing in heaven. He was exasperated to think that the woman had even set foot upon his threshold. And still more, he seems to take offence at her having handled with such affection the man whom he had invited. And that Jesus could suffer this led him to draw the conclusion that ‘this man’ did not know how to discern spirits, therefore he could certainly be no prophet. For that Jesus could know who this woman is, what manner of woman this is (τίς καὶ ποταπή), so notorious a sinner, and yet could thus receive her,-this appeared to him wholly incredible, because he knew nothing either of the possibility of such a conversion as this woman evinced, or of the possibility of such mercy as Christ exhibited towards her. His face showed the displeasure he felt. Jesus looked at him with the calmest pity; this is evident both from His look and His word. ‘Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee!’ ‘Master, say on!’ answered the displeased man. And then Jesus related to him the parable of the two debtors of a creditor who cancelled both their debts; one a debt of five hundred pence, the other of fifty pence. Simon himself shall judge which of the two debtors, after being thus forgiven their debts, will love their benefactor the most. He judges quite rightly; and Jesus now shows him that the right judgment which he has pronounced on the parable has been pronounced against his own prejudging in the case of this woman; that through this very judgment he has proved himself to be in a very unfavourable position in respect to Himself. He now turns to the woman with approving recognition. ‘Seest thou this woman?’ He asks him. Simon probably imagined that he would be polluted by even looking at her. And now Christ shows him by sharp contrasts how rich the woman’s love is in comparison to his. Jesus had entered into Simon’s house; from Simon, therefore, He was here entitled to expect the highest proofs of love. But Simon had not even offered Him water for His feet; far less, with kind solicitude, did he have His feet washed by a servant, or wash them himself, as even the host might sometimes do when he wished to distinguish a guest. Therefore this woman, a stranger, was obliged to come forward, and before the eyes of His cold host wash His feet with her tears, dry them with her hair. Simon had omitted to give Him the kiss of friendly greeting; the woman, on the other hand, had kissed His feet. Simon had not anointed His head; but she had not thought her ointment too good to bestow upon His feet. These facts proved that the Pharisee had at any rate not invited the Lord with any warmth of feeling or devoted love; that perhaps he had all along been not indisposed to find some shady side in his Guest. But in these facts Simon ought now to recognize evidence of the great love which this woman entertained, and he should infer from that the great forgiveness which had been accorded to her. In reference to Simon’s doing, however, He, in His forbearance, drew in a more general manner His conclusions in reference to Simon’s want of love, and in reference also to his experience of reconciliation: ‘But to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little!’ He does not perhaps make merely love in its highest sense, as, e.g., love to Him, to be the token of forgiveness, but love generally. Nevertheless, in the same measure that love is unfolded in its pure spiritual fulness as true eternal love, in that measure must it of necessity exhibit itself in love to Him. And now, without regard to the gainsaying of the pharisaical spirit, Jesus crowned His work by solemnly proclaiming to the woman, ‘Thy sins are forgiven thee!’ This word exasperated still more those who were sitting at meat with Him. Both in their thoughts and by their gestures they plainly denied his right to forgive sins. But He gave a yet bolder expression to this act of reconciliation, by showing how entirely the woman had, through the inward state of her mind, made herself a partaker of reconciliation; how entirely the woman had thus already herself overcome the sentence which condemned her: ‘Thy faith hath saved thee (He said to her), go in peace!’ With this blessing He dismissed her: she belonged now to His kingdom of peace, and was thus acknowledged as a God-reconciled disciple of His Church.1 Quite lately some have identified this narrative with the account of Christ’s anointing at Bethany, in both narratives choosing to see only different accounts of the same transaction; and this because in both cases a woman anoints the Lord, and because both anointings took place during a feast in the house of a Simon. But this critical hypothesis forms only a worthy counterpart to the confusion of the two narratives of the nobleman and the centurion at Capernaum. In both cases that ‘criticism’ displays the same keen sense of outside similarities in different events, and the same inability or disinclination at all to estimate the spiritual character of the scenes represented, and consequently the same sensuousness, and hasty or intentional, even wilful, superficialness of judgment. It is of itself calculated to awake suspicion, they say, that in both cases an anointing of Jesus should have taken place, and certainly that both should have taken place in the house of one Simon! But we see how common the name of Simon was amongst the Jews from the circumstance that there were two men of the name of Simon amongst the disciples; and besides that, Judas Iscariot was the son of Simon. Then again we see that that second Simon is even distinguished from the first, who was the Pharisee, by the name of the Leper. Thus this man was apparently one whom Jesus had cured of leprosy, and who was therefore attached to Him by feelings of true gratitude. If we are inclined to find any difficulty in the fact of Jesus having been anointed twice in the house of a Simon (though in truth there is no difficulty at all in it), then this distinction would of itself suffice to lead us to the supposition, that the name of the second host might have been conferred upon the first in the tradition from which Luke derived his account.1 But instead of that supposition, men prefer to disregard, with the distinction already noted, all those more strongly marked distinctions between the two occurrences-the difference of the time, of the place, of the festivity of Jesus’ companions at table, and in the manner of the anointing, as well as of the previous transactions. But it is still worse that any one can misapprehend forms of character and situations of mind, such as are depicted with such wonderful sharpness and delicacy, as is the case with the two women who come before us in the two scenes. Here a sobbing penitent, who in extreme agitation sees her own old life as a corpse, so to speak, before her eyes, and with the sense of her deliverance through the grace of Christ, sinks down at His feet; there a solemnly calm disciple, who, in the silent presentiment of Jesus’ passion, with a feeling of heartfelt sadness, prepares for Him the highest glorification which as yet is in her power to do. In fact, a critical mind who can see in these representations faint forms blending one into another, because there chances on the scene to be two hosts of the name of Simon, or other similarities, would seem more qualified to assort titles and uniforms than to distinguish between the highest forms of character and situations of mind which we find in the lofty region of primitive Christian history, or of Christian spiritual life. Immediately after this occurrence we find the Lord again resuming His journeyings from city to city and from village to village. It was no doubt on this journey that some eminent female disciples joined themselves to His company. Luke first of all mentions those whom He had healed of evil spirits and infirmities, particularly Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had cast seven devils, Joanna the wife of Chusa, the steward of Herod Antipas, and Susanna (ùÑåÉùÑÈðÈä, ), of whom no further description is given. To these were added many others. The Evangelist Mark (Mark 15:40-41) gives us the names of some of these others, besides that of Magdalene, who has been already mentioned; namely, Mary, the real mother of the sons of Alpheus, and Salome, the mother of the sons of Zebedee. Concerning these three and other like-minded women, who stood afar off on Golgotha and gazed upon the Crucified One, he says, that they had ministered to Him when He was in Galilee, and had come up with Him to Jerusalem. From this remark we cannot suppose that these women joined themselves to the Lord on the occasion of His last journey to Jerusalem; first, because that last journey was through Peræa, and because Jesus stayed a longer time in this neighbourhood than in Galilee; and then again, because these women had already attached themselves to Him before Jesus made His longer stay in Galilee in the summer of the year 782 (John 7:1). The Evangelist Luke explains to us in what way they served Him (Luke 8:3); he says, ‘They ministered unto Him of their substance.’ It is at once obvious to suppose that this relation was formed just at that time, when the sons of the two women, Mary the wife of Alpheus and Salome, commenced a closer attendance upon the Lord; when in general a new and common housekeeping had become necessary among the disciples of Jesus, who now formed one household with Him, Judas managing the purse (John 12:6). We can easily understand that at that time especially the widowed Marys, the mother of Jesus and the mother of James, would know of no higher duty than to assist His cause with their personal presence and with all their substance, and that Salome, with her aspiring temperament, would willingly join them. By means of this circle of women, long known and nearly related, which surrounded Jesus, it had become possible, even in face of the strict requirements of Jewish manners, for Him to be accompanied by other female disciples of lofty and high-minded feeling, who felt grateful to Him for healing and deliverance which they had themselves experienced. These, in company with many other disciples, and perhaps a few of the apostles who might be going and coming, formed the wandering family of Jesus; assuredly an elect company, borne aloft by the deepest aspirations and the highest hopes far above the littleness of ordinary human life, whether Jewish or other. This relation was, as it were, a type of the spiritual Christian company of elect souls in its state of perfection, which has Christ Himself for its centre. Together with the Christian spiritual life, this circle developed the higher spiritual form of family feeling, binding together these female disciples; the solemn spirit in which they went about together; the self-sacrifice with which they devoted their property to supply the wants of Jesus. And that Jesus should have accepted with such perfect calmness the charity of these female disciples, shows at once His humility and His greatness; thereby also clearly exhibiting His perfect confidence in the purity and in the faithfulness of these followers. We see in this community the dawn of a new world of love, which only the Spirit of Christ can call into life. It accords with the direction of Christ’s journey, as well as with the chronology of the Evangelists, if we suppose that it was on this journey that Jesus came to the little town of Nain, and that it was on this occasion that He performed there His well-known miracle. It is true that Luke has made this occurrence precede the narrative of the pardoned sinner.1 We can explain this arrangement if we take for granted that the order of these two occurrences was not accurately known to him, and that he had a motive for placing the raising of the young man at Nain before John the Baptist’s message to Jesus, in order, in some degree, to give ground for those words of Jesus: ‘The dead are raised up!’ But that in a general way the Baptist’s message, as well as the narrative of the young man at Nain and that of the pardoned woman, all happened at one period, and formed one chain of events, is clearly shown by Luke’s account. One might, indeed, here raise the question, why the Evangelist should not rather have rested the already quoted words of Jesus upon the account of the raising of Jairus’ daughter? It was, however, well known to him that this raising belongs to another connection, even though it might not have been known to him whether it came in point of time earlier or later. That this occurrence at Nain is not found in the other Evangelists, is explained by the circumstance that about this time Jesus had not His disciples with Him. It does not belong to the works of Jesus handed down by apostolic eye-witnesses. St Luke, on the contrary, who is greatly indebted to the tradition of Jesus’ female disciples, no doubt obtained from them this miracle also. The little town of Nain2 is still to be found between the south side of Tabor, in Galilee, and the Little Hermon, at the foot of the latter;3 though, indeed, it is only in the form of a small hamlet, called Nein.4 The Lord was approaching the little town, surrounded by His many disciples and by a crowd of people. ‘The many disciples,’ introduced with this definiteness (with the article1), seem to present themselves almost in contradistinction to the Twelve. Near the gate of the town a large funeral met the company of Jesus and His disciples; it was that of a young man who was being carried to his grave, the only son of a widow, who accompanied the corpse weeping. The two processions form a strong contrast to one another. The one is a festive procession in its loftiest sense, the other a mourning procession above the ordinary. The town of Nain is as it were deserted through its sympathy with the bereaved widow. Should Christ pass by this procession, and fill the desolate, saddened place with His triumphing companions? He could not, and He would not allow the sad procession to pass thus. Suddenly, in the most gracious manner, He stopped in the way. To the woman He spoke the great though simple word: ‘Weep not!’ He caused the bearers of the open coffin to stand still, through the majesty with which He laid His hand on the bier; thus giving a sign that He laid claim to this supposed prey of death. Hereupon He summoned the young man back to life. The first signs of life again appeared in his raising himself to a sitting posture on the bier, and beginning to speak. Thus had Jesus given him back to his mother. To the people of Nain this deed was entirely unexpected, unhoped for, soaring above all their anticipations. Even to them who had been near at the raising of Jairus’ daughter, this was quite a new occurrence. For this was the raising up of a dead man who was already being carried to the grave, and performed too in the sight of all. Hence there came a holy fear on all; this awakening thrilled through their souls as a deed of God. But the terror which filled them was a happy and blessed one when they saw death itself thus destroyed, when suddenly a view was opened to them into the new world of the resurrection; and they glorified God. Through this event it was become clearer to them than ever that a great prophet was risen up in Jesus; ay, that God was now coming to visit His people, that the time of redemption was at hand. And the fame of this deed was spread abroad throughout the country. notes 1. In vol. ii. p. 733 seq., Strauss has given himself the trouble to confuse together, according to their outward similarities and differences, the two narratives of anointing, the account of the adulteress in John, and that of Jesus entering into the house of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38), in order then to come to the result (p. 745), that apparently these narratives all sprang from two different reports of primitive Christian tradition: on the one hand, ‘from the report of a woman who had anointed Jesus, had been abused on that account, but had been defended by Jesus; and on the other hand, of a woman whom He had rebuked for her many sins, but whom He had absolved.’ In this paragraph the reader may learn the whole secret of the said ‘critic’s’ critical art. And there are two things which appear really to constitute this ‘critical’ art: first, a way of viewing things which is utterly destitute of all tact, and mistakes all the inward features of the given representation; and secondly, a fantastic way of stating things which utterly distorts all the external features. For the first, this tactless perception cannot see that the scene in which the woman who was a sinner appears is radically different in its spiritual character from the scene in which the adulteress is judged, and that in like manner the quiet domestic scene in Martha’s house has entirely a different physiognomy from the account of the anointing in the house of Simon the Leper. It is forced, indeed, to show itself without tact in a most remarkable degree, in further hardening itself against the speaking spiritual unity, wherein each one of the four events appears as a picture absolute and complete in itself. But after it has succeeded in seeing in these representations only isolated, faded, and fragmentary profiles of questionable and lifeless events, it then gives them over to a fantastic dialectic, to set about the exhibition of the outward similarities and differences between the narratives. And first the differences are heightened. Thus not only is the account of the anointing near the sea to be different from the account of the anointing at Bethany, but also the account of the latter, as we find it on the one hand in John, and on the other in Mark and Matthew, is made to refer to two distinct occurrences. According to the synoptic Evangelists, the feast is in the house of Simon the Leper; according to John, Martha is mentioned as serving, and Lazarus as among those sitting at meat. And thus it is to follow that Lazarus (not Simon therefore) is the host. Against this, see Ebrard, p. 321. In truth, to go no further, it requires a certain confidence in this kind of criticism to conclude from the notice that one was present at a feast that he must needs be the host. And the notice that Martha served, does not in the least justify this conclusion. Surely in the house of a friend she might have served, if she desired to do so. But she might really, as some have already conjectured, have been the widow of one Simon, after whom the house was still called. Besides, the time (they tell us) is different: the feast which the synoptic Evangelists refer to (Matthew 26:1; Mark 14:1) was at most two days before the Passover, while the feast, according to John, was as much as six days before the Passover. But from the general connection of the account given by the synoptists of this feast, especially by Matthew, it results that the object of the Evangelists is to explain the last and most definite announcement of the sufferings of Jesus which He uttered two days before the Passover, by returning to what took place during the feast at Bethany. They wished to show that even before this announcement the presentiment of Jesus’ death declared itself both in the act of Mary’s anointing and in the interpretation which Jesus gave to it, and that even at that time preparations for His death had commenced, that is to say, in the determination of Judas to betray Him, which was now definitely formed. Therefore, as pragmatical narrators,1 they return to the earlier occurrence in Bethany in order to assign a reason for Jesus’ later announcement. A third difference is said to consist in this, that John describes the anointing woman as the well-known Mary, whilst by the other Evangelists she is merely designated as a woman. That this is no real difference, is evident. We may, indeed, be led to ask, Why did not the two synoptists call her Mary? Grotius and Herder have supposed that these Evangelists did not wish to bring the family of Lazarus into danger by an open mention of the name, a precaution which John, who wrote later, had no need to exercise. (See Strauss, i. 743.) Strauss calls this an unwarranted supposition, without considering that an explanatory supposition of this kind was all that was wanted here. But, in truth, the Evangelists may have been influenced by a higher motive in designating the anointing one by the general appellation of a woman. That the disciples even were blinded, and not yet aware of what lay before them-this fact they give prominence to by the strong contrast-a woman stepped forward, and showed in a symbolical manner her presentiment of Jesus’ death, or else her sympathy with His presentiment. But more important is the circumstance, which is further brought forward, that according to the synoptists the woman pours the ointment over the head of Jesus, whilst according to John she anoints His feet. The ‘older interpretation,’ that both perhaps was the case, Strauss calls trivial. But if we but picture to ourselves the particulars of the anointing, which indisputably is quite possible, we shall then only have to explain why it was that the synoptists preferred to describe the anointing of the head, and John, on the other hand, the anointing of the feet. Evidently the former are full of the startling stepping forward of the woman, so they fasten upon the beginning of her proceeding; and with this view, Mark describes still more particularly how with heroic passion she broke the glass to pieces over Jesus’ head. (The thought here of any possible injury through the fragments of broken glass, is as little worth mentioning as was the fear of a dangerous fall of tiles at Capernaum when they were breaking through the roof.) This ripeness of anticipation on the part of the female disciple is meant to stand forth in the brightest light as a contrast to the absence of all foreboding on the part of the disciples; this is what the synoptists have in view in their account John, on the other hand, exhibits this deed of Mary’s as an act of the most devoted and humble love, in opposition to the malignity which was at work amongst the circle of the disciples in the heart of the betrayer; and hence he tells the striking points of the deed, how she anointed the feet of Jesus, and then dried them with her hair, and how the house was filled with the odour of the ointment. And, finally, the account given above of the real state of the case has already explained why the synoptists relate that the disciples had blamed the transaction, whilst John only speaks of Judas. John had fixed his eyes upon the real originator of this false judgment, by whom in their blind ignorance the others had been led away; the synoptists, on the other hand, had especially in view the narrow-mindedness of the disciples in general. After summing up all these differences, the ‘critic’ asks: ‘Especially how can it be supposed, that if Jesus had so decidedly defended on another, and even on two earlier occasions, the honour shown to Him by anointing, the disciples, or even one of them, could again and even a third time have expressed their disapproval of it?’ In answer, we have then to point out a slight instance of mistake, of the fashion of those which belong to that masterly ‘criticism’ which has been above described. For in the house of the Pharisee it was not the anointing that Jesus defended, but the sinner. Next follow the similarities which are said to connect the first anointing with the second in Matthew and Mark’s Gospels: twice one Simon appears as master of the house in which the feast is given; twice a woman anointing, whose name is not mentioned, who does not belong to the house; twice an alabaster-box. Upon this a resemblance is mentioned between the first anointing in Luke’s Gospel and the second in John’s; for on both occasions it was an anointing of the feet, and on both occasions the woman dried them with the hair of her head. Through these resemblances then, these two anointings also are confused together in order to form one narrative; as if we did not constantly see kindred narratives exhibiting the natural interchange of resemblances and differences. But these resemblances in question have no doubt been sufficiently explained already. Concerning the drying of the feet of Jesus with her hair, Mary might very well, with the clearest consciousness, appreciate the extreme expression of humility which she knew had first been exhibited by the woman who was a sinner; although, with respect to her, the further consideration arises, that she wiped off the ointment from the feet of Jesus with her hair, perhaps meaning to say thereby, that she found therein an especial adornment for her head; whilst the woman in the first anointing was, as has been shown, led to this act by quite another sentiment, and performed it before the anointing. Now, at length ‘criticism’ reaches the climax of its boldness, in jumbling together the narrative of the adulteress and of the events in Martha’s house into one set of traditions, in consequence of the similarities existing between them and the accounts of the anointings. It remarks that the angry judgment which the Pharisee in his heart passes upon the woman who was a sinner, and the open judgment which the Pharisees passed upon the adulteress, both of them, together with Martha’s slight censure of her sister, as well as with Judas’ bitter rebuke of Mary’s anointing, fall all of them under the same category of disapproval. Thus ‘criticism’ observes these resemblances; sophism takes them away from their connection; special pleading makes them take the shape of identities, and at last, as a climax of ingenious jugglery, blends them all together. And with other similarities the same game is carried on. 2. The rationalistic hypothesis, according to which the young man at Nain was called back to life by Jesus from being only apparently dead, has been sufficiently set aside by Strauss, ii. 129. Concerning other rationalistic treatments of this narrative, see Ebrard, 282. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 99: 02.102. SECTION XVII ======================================================================== Section XVII the baptist’s embassy (Matthew 11:1-19. Luke 7:18-35) We have already above established the point in a general way, that the return of Jesus from Judea to Galilee, which John mentions in the 4th chapter, forms one and the same fact with the first public appearance of Jesus in Galilee spoken of by the synoptists (Matthew 4:12; Mark 1:14; Luke 4:14). But we may now convince ourselves of the correctness of this fact by the way in which the events related fall in with this view. We saw the Redeemer travelling about the country in the first free play of an activity which as yet suffered in the main no impediment. As yet, the hierarchy has not openly declared itself against Him; although everywhere the conflict with the spirit of the hierarchy was already beginning to unfold itself. All this is changed on His appearance at the feast of Purim in the year 782 (according to John 5:1-47) Henceforth hierarchial persecution pursues Him closely everywhere, and His position with reference to public life, His whole system of working, assumes of necessity a different character. After this decisive moment, the course of the events hitherto related in the Gospels, in the way in which He has unfolded Himself before our eyes, could no longer have fashioned itself in the same manner. Also, the period of time from the feast of Purim to the feast of Tabernacles of the year 782 would seem too short to embrace the earlier Galilean events as well as the later. Since therefore the return of Jesus to Galilee at the close of the autumn of 781 has been described by the synoptic Evangelists as occasioned by the imprisonment of the Baptist, we shall assume that this event must have taken place just about that time. Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee and Perea, had not inherited from his father, Herod the Great, the strength of mind which had made the latter so conspicuous as despot and as ruler. He was weak and fickle, and his yielding softness was liable to show itself in various ways; sometimes in a slavish disposition towards stronger minds who governed him, sometimes in a kind of susceptibility for the voice of Truth. Yet he was ruled entirely by the spirit of levity and extreme dissipation, and, like his father, he was capable of the worst crimes. He had married the daughter of Aretas, the king of Arabia; but afterwards he formed a connection with Herodias, the wife of his half-brother Herod (Philip), who lived as a private man; and the daughter of the Arabian king took refuge in her own country. Herodias sufficiently shows her character in the history of the Baptist. She displayed in a wrong direction greater determination and strength of mind than her husband. Yet with the same strength she followed him in trouble, when afterwards he failed in his attempt, at her instigation, to gain at Rome the dignity of king, and when he was banished to Gaul. Herod resided in Tiberias, and perhaps during the summer-time at Julias or Livias in Perea, not far from the fortress of Machærus.1 So that even when John was baptizing in Enon, he had been near to the residence of this prince, which was in the city of Tiberias, and it would seem that afterwards he entered the Galilean territory. It might have been now that, seized by one of those royal humours which so often possessed him, namely, a state of mind made up of superstitious excitement and passionate curiosity, Herod sent to call the Baptist. This circumstance might have occasioned the Baptist’s giving him the rebuke which led to his death. John treated him according to the same rule by which he had judged the elders from Jerusalem when they had publicly confronted him. But Herod did not allow this candour to pass unpunished; he sent his servants to seize him and cast him into prison. Regardless of consequences, John had rebuked him for the adulterous connection which he had formed with Herodias, her lawful husband being yet alive. But he had also, as Luke remarks (Luke 3:19), reproached him in general for all his notorious offences. This last remark of Luke’s is of great importance for the Baptist’s history; for it is calculated to explain a difference which exists between the Evangelist and the historian Josephus. Josephus relates that Herod put the Baptist out of the way from fear, lest he should cause a rising or disturbance amongst the people.2 But the Evangelists assign that sentence of condemnation which the Baptist passed upon the relation of this prince to Herodias as the real motive which led to the Baptist’s persecution, and especially to his execution. But now the above-mentioned remark of Luke’s manifestly indicates to us the connection or the common meaning of the two accounts. The Baptist, namely, rebuked Herod for the public scandals in general which he had been guilty of. Thereby, considered from a political point of view, he appeared to the despot to be on the road to stirring up rebellion: he imprisoned him therefore, as being a dangerous demagogue, and secured him within the above-mentioned fortress, which was situated in a sequestered part of the country. And when in course of time the prisoner was executed, it was natural that the political historian of that time should bring prominently forward that political motive of despotic precaution. The disciples, on the contrary, had, no doubt, a more exact knowledge of what was most truly the motive which led Herod thus to act: they fixed their eyes upon that fatal point in the reproving words of the Baptist, which, relating more to religious morals than to politics, proved of such disastrous consequences, becoming the decisive cause of his imprisonment and execution. The Baptist had passed a whole dreary winter shut up in the lonely fortress.1 And here we must remind ourselves of the fact, that the greatest heroes of the Old Covenant were much weaker in holy endurance than in holy action. Endurance often fell the heaviest upon those who were the strongest in zeal. Think of Elijah’s frame of mind when, fleeing from Jezebel, he hid in the cave of Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19:1-21). At that time even Elijah might almost have asked, Art Thou Jehovah that should come? At that time he too needed to receive an impression through the still small voice of that divine, world-subduing Spirit, which was afterwards revealed to the Baptist in the Lamb of God. This lies in the very nature of the Old Covenant. The prophet, as the champion of the law, is a Moses heightened; he can lighten, thunder, call down fire from heaven. The prophet, as an announcer of the Gospel, is only a forerunner of Christ; therefore he is only one who is becoming a Christian as concerning the New Testament power of enduring; and in this sense especially, the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. This relation of the prophetical to the New Testament spirit has hardly been sufficiently taken into account in the surprise, which men have in various ways expressed, at John’s message to Jesus. And yet this must be brought most prominently forward if we would wish to explain this message. But let us first of all turn our eyes upon the fact itself, which has in such various ways been the cause of offence. At this time, when Jesus had left Capernaum, and as the Saviour and Proclaimer of salvation was passing through the towns and villages which lay in the way to Jerusalem, apparently as He was just leaving the towns on the sea-shore, at any rate when He had already accomplished a succession of fresh miracles, He received an embassy from the imprisoned Baptist. There came two of his disciples; and in the name of the Baptist they inquired, ‘Art Thou He that should come, or are we to look for another?’ How strange does this word sound as a message from the man who some time before had pointed out Jesus to his disciples with the announcement, Behold the Lamb of God, which beareth the sin of the world!-he who had in general borne witness concerning Him in the certainty inspired by the Divine Spirit! It is well known that men have sought to free the Baptist from the charge of weakness, or even the Gospel history from the appearance of a contradiction, by supposing that John had no need on his own account to address this question to Christ; but that it was his aim through this mission to put his disciples, who as yet were doubtful of Jesus’ dignity, in connection with Him, hoping by this means to help them on to full belief in Him.1 But against this it has been with justice remarked, that the disciples bring the message in John’s name (according to Luke, they even introduce John as himself speaking); and that the answer which Jesus gives them is just as formally given as an answer for John.2 But if it follows from this that we must really consider the question as coming from the very heart of the Baptist himself, then it is indisputably an utterance which exhibits a human weakness, an obscuration of his faith. It shows a beclouded state of mind in the Baptist. But first comes the question, What right have we to think this? And then, How is it to be explained? Now, on the one hand, it is surely apparent that his message cannot be considered as a real wavering in his theoretical conviction of the Messianic dignity of Jesus. For such a doubting of the authority of Jesus must have led the Baptist to an inquiry or an examination, in which he could not possibly have applied to Jesus Himself. He could surely never have expected that Jesus would give him an answer which should strengthen him in his doubt. But, on the other hand, we cannot either suppose that the abrupt question, as the Evangelists represent it, should have had a different purport originally; some such an one as Schleiermacher supposes:3 ‘Thou art surely He that should come? Why then should we yet wait for another?’ Neither yet can we say, for example, that the Baptist was only impelled by an impatient longing, and that he meant to call upon the Messiah, who seemed to him to be tarrying, to enter at once upon ‘that decisive conflict with the prevailing depravity from which He should come forth victorious, and which should issue in the purification and glorification of the theocracy.’ We imagine the Baptist’s state of mind as being more depressed, more uncertain, more gloomy; not merely a state of earnest longing and of great impatience, but also that of deep vexation; vexation, namely, at the apparent triumph of evil under the very eyes of the Messiah Himself; vexation which, though it did not make him concerned about his liberation on its own account, yet caused his imprisonment to appear as a sign of that triumph of evil. This feeling of vexation must be carefully distinguished from a theoretical change of opinion, though it certainly could not but have operated to dim the clearness of John’s conviction of Jesus being the Messiah. Thus even now Christ was still to the Baptist the Lamb of God as much as when he had thus designated Him in that brightest moment of his life. Perhaps now He seemed to him to be even too much so. Let us just class this word of the Baptist’s with similar expressions1 of Moses, of Job, of Elijah, of Jeremiah, and of Christ; perhaps doing so may help us to the right understanding of them. Concerning Job in that moment when he cursed his birth, and also the Lamentations of Jeremiah, one might perhaps be inclined to make the objection, that there we have to do with poetical passages, which as such are not fitted to afford any analogies to what is real. Only, if these passages are rightly estimated, they almost gain a greater significance than the others, by showing what frames of mind are possible for the servants of God in similar or like situations in all ages. But when now Moses at one time exhibits before the Lord his deep vexation, Job his despair, Elijah his suppressed bitter jealousy, Jeremiah his awful trembling under the fearful severity of God,-in all these cases, there of course could not have been the remotest thought of any theoretical doubt of the existence of God. They remonstrate with their God, because He is to them a living, personal God, and because they stand in a real, living relation towards Him, although without being either holy or perfect. They are too faithful and pious to forsake God; but they are also too violently agitated by the awfulness of His dealings not to exhibit to Him their bleeding, wailing heart, ay, even their surprise as at something strange. In the expressions which they use, whatever is not prayer is confession. Just because they have no desire to forsake God, they dare to show themselves to Him as they are. It was in the perfect openness of their piety that the Old Testament heroes came in their hours of deepest trial to contend with their God-and this according to the whole character of the Old Testament, because they are arrived at the point when they can no longer understand their fate from God’s justice, as they understand His justice. The glorification of these moods of feeling we find in the moment when Christ cried out on the cross: My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me? It would clearly be unspeakably foolish if we attempted to see in this expression any theoretical doubt in the Godhead. But we see in it the whole feeling of Christ. With His heart’s whole feeling of what was right stirred up within Him, Christ asks God why He had forsaken Him. But He asks His God; and there we at once see the answer, that it was necessary that He should feel so forsaken, and also the assurance that God would explain the why through the great reward of this forsakenness in the salvation of the world. This mighty Why of Christ’s points, then, to an answer of God, which is unfolded in His glorification and in the redemption of the world. Now the Baptist’s present state of mind, from which the above question arose, evidently belongs to the same line of the deepest trials of God’s heroes,-a line extending from the life of Abraham and of Moses up to the life of Christ,-of those trials which are still prepared for every servant of God according to the measure of his strength. Now it was impossible for the weakness of John to display itself without the admixture of sinful infirmity. No doubt his was a state of mind in which he also bewailed his distress to his God with the keenest sensibility and with the liveliest expressions. But under this state of mind he turns to the Messiah, because his state of mind has reference to the Messiah; because, with the sorrow and wrath which as prophet he felt, he cannot understand how Jesus should so graciously devote Himself to the outcast among the people, whilst the rulers of the people are practising the grossest deeds of violence and meet with no punishment. We will not seek to probe further into the Baptist’s state of mind. So much is clear, that this utterance of his indicates the moment of the heaviest trial of his life, and also of his human weakness under this trial. But we should miss an essential trait in his portraiture if this spot of weakness were wanting, the moment of his human quailing under God’s providence,-that moment of the highest exaltation of God’s majesty in the life of His servants, when they sink into His arms as it were fainting under the inscrutable judgment of their life. But in the life of a man like John this shock could not fail to be great, and to force a strong expression of itself according to the measure of the greatness of the man himself. But it is altogether wrong to imagine that for the explanation of this fact we must turn to those cases in history in which great men succumbed for a moment under their appointed trial, as, for example, Jerome of Prague, when he denied his evangelical creed. Therefore Strauss’s observation likewise hits wide of the mark, when he says: ‘Persecuted Christians of the first centuries, and later a Berengarius and a Galileo, turned false to those very convictions on account of which they were imprisoned, hoping through their denial to save themselves: the Baptist, in order that his case should admit to be compared with theirs, ought to have retracted his rebuke of Herod instead of giving a wavering character to his testimony concerning Christ, which had nothing whatever to do with his imprisonment.’1 Here it is assumed that the Baptist’s embassy, when brought into connection with his earlier testimonies of Christ, as they are represented by the Evangelists, make him appear as a fallen man. But there is not the remotest thought of this in the description which they gave of this embassy. Nay, it was even through this very embassy that he escapes the danger of taking offence at Christ. As the servants of God, under their great temptations and shocks, do not turn themselves in their anguish to the world, but to their God; as they open before Him their deeply wounded heart, and by the very means of thus crying out to Him, even though impure elements are evolved in the manner in which they do this, they become quieted, comforted, and saved; so it is also with John. And this is proved by his message to Jesus. If he had nourished as rancour in his heart the discouragement which he felt on account of Jesus’s manner of working, it might then have caused his fall. But this the Spirit’s consecration and the divine tendency of this quailing soul would not admit of. He gave shape to his discouragement in free, unreserved expression. Before all the people this great herald contended with his great King, because he would not, and he dared not, take with him to the grave, without giving expression to it, this feeling which had contended with him in his prison. Before all the people he had once borne witness to Him; therefore it was necessary that his relation to Him should continue to be open and clear in the sight of all the people. He ventured before the people to question His Messiahship; and this undoubtedly shows how beclouded and how agitated his state of mind was. In Luther’s life we find similar moods of feeling. Such in particular we find given outward expression to, during the time when he was imprisoned in the castle of Wartburg. Blcher was for a long time half delirious with vexation during the time of Prussia’s humiliation, and he then expressed the wish: ‘I would that either war would arise, or that the whole world were in one great blaze of fire.’ It is in the nature of things that imprisoned lions should now and then, in moments of deep vexation, begin to roar. But we should also not forget that John publicly submitted both his question and his own self to the final decision of Jesus. And this is just the much-misunderstood light side of his message: his abrupt reproach was at the same time his heroic confession of fault. The strong man in his great conflict clung publicly to the Stronger, and thus saved the close of his life. If then we have made ourselves acquainted with the meaning of the Baptist’s message, there are still other considerations to bring forward which are calculated yet further to throw light upon his state of mind. With reference to the right estimation of the life of Christ, as viewed in the peculiarity of its New Testament spirit, John, we must grant, stood highest among all the men who stood on the Old Testament footing. In this respect, among those born of women, none was greater than he.1 As he was the last of the prophets, so he stood the highest, the nearest to Christ, of all on the Old Testament footing. But the peculiar course of Christ’s life, His spiritual life most emphatically His own,-namely, that He should lay the foundation of His work through love, through planting the truth in individual minds, through workings of the Spirit, through suffering and death, and not through severity, through judgments, through outward enterprises, struggles, and victories,-this was what the least of those who stood on the New Testament footing could understand better than John. Added to this, we must likewise take into account the variation in the mood of feeling observable among the prophets. That which may be said of the human mind, and doubly so of the pious mind, is true in a threefold degree of the prophet’s mind: it is capable of being raised high as heaven, and again of being plunged down to death, even to the anguish of hell. Now of the pious man this is doubly true; because there are moments when he can soar far beyond the mountains, even up to the bosom of God; and others when, having sunk back into his insulated consciousness, he trembles before the smallest trouble. But this applies in a threefold degree to the prophet, because the divine-human life displays itself in his states of feeling as a life developing itself in a rhythmical movement (so to speak) of arsis and thesis. Therefore it follows, that at one time he should be able to gaze with rapt inspiration into all the glory of the new world, as if he had already conquered all the troubles of life; and then at another time, that he should fall into gloomy frames of mind, in which he can hardly understand what he himself had in those states of inspiration uttered.1 In this respect the life of the apostle has an unspeakable advantage over the life of the prophet, even though the life of the former likewise exhibits considerable weaknesses; for the apostle is from the very first filled with the spirit of that life of Christ which was perfect in word and deed. Now John the Baptist is just the very last of the prophets: why then should he be wanting in that peculiarity which so universally characterizes the prophetic life? It is true that Christ places him even above the other prophets, as being the pioneer of the new dispensation; but this very position of his, being the last of the Old Covenant prophets and the herald of the New Covenant, was in itself the cause that in him most especially it might come to pass that the New and the Old Testament frames of mind should succeed one another in the strongest contrast. There were, however, especial circumstances tending to this result, which we have already above referred to. His disciples, for example, had at first surrounded the camp of Jesus, so to speak, with jealous watchfulness and with passionate hope, and they had then returned to the Baptist with the intelligence that Jesus was now feasting with publicans and sinners. We can easily understand how these reports of John’s disciples, and their feelings of annoyance, would naturally contribute to heighten his gloomy state of mind. This report might have raised in his soul the apprehension lest Jesus should not carry out that separation between the clean and the unclean, between the subjects of the kingdom and its adversaries, of which he had laid the foundation through his baptism; rather Jesus was pulling down what he had built, instead of continuing to build on the foundation which he had laid.2 And this makes it obvious to us to conjecture, that this tempted one was hoping to obtain from Christ’s answer a comforting explanation not merely for himself, but also for his disciples. Commentators have been so busy with the Baptist’s message, that often the Lord’s answer has not been sufficiently considered. And yet this supplies us with the clearest and most delicate estimate of that message. They have only to go and report to John what they themselves have seen and heard, the evidences which He afforded of His character. And in these signs John would find it impossible to mistake the prophetic description of the Messiah. Now were the eyes of the blind opened through Him; now were seen lame men healed and leaping as harts; now were the ears of the deaf unstopped, and the dumb were beginning to praise God, according to Isaiah’s prophecy (Isaiah 35:5-6 ff.); now were the people cleansed from their iniquities, and the dead were living again, according to Ezekiel’s prophecies (Ezekiel 36:1-38 and Ezekiel 37:1-28);-but the greatest thing of all, the culminating point of all those works of wonder, was this, that now good tidings were preached to the poor, the jubilee year of salvation, according to Isaiah’s announcement in Isaiah 61:1-11, and other prophetical passages, which speak of the wonderful consolations which during the Messianic time should console and make happy the miserable. The order and manner in which Jesus enumerates these signs of His evangelical operations, in which were reflected the prophetical signs of the Messianic blessing, seem to be founded on a distinct progress of healing and saving works in the removal of life’s evils, from the smallest to the heaviest of all. First the blind are named. They stand as expectant sound ones, wanting only light, before the curtain of life; these see again. Next the lame. In their case even the free motions of life are wanting; they walk again. Then come the lepers. With them life itself is tainted by a dangerous element of death; these become clean. The deaf appear to be placed here somewhat too low; but many of them are not only physically but mentally bound, so that they do but vegetate: with their hearing, mental existence is likewise restored to them. Next come the dead; they return to life. In the simply sublime character of these antitheses, ‘the blind receive their sight,’ &c., the evangelical working of Christ is set forth as a new creation. In this answer of Jesus lay a threefold power of comfort; quite apart from the striking consideration that Isaiah had already uttered that message respecting the coming Helper-God with especial reference to the weak hands, the feeble knees, the fearful hearts. For, in the first place, the Baptist could not fail to recognize in these features the power of the manifestation of God, the power of the mighty Saviour of the people rescuing men from their miseries. The complete concurrence of the signs, their combined effort, the Messiah passing from bodily to spiritual deliverances, and their connection with one another, left no doubt of Jesus being the Bringer and the Bearer of the time of salvation. But the second ground of satisfaction the Baptist was to find in this, that it was by these very signs that the prophets had signalized the Messiah. Finally, the third was in this, that even those theocrats of a much earlier time had proclaimed the Messianic kingdom as being most prominently a kingdom of mercy, of deliverances, and not so much a kingdom of legal distinction and separation, of retribution and of judgment. The addition, ‘And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in Me,’ is Jesus’ last word to John. It shows that Jesus perceived that John really was in danger of being tempted; but, at the same time, that He knew him to be rescued. The Lord utters no woe over him who should be offended in Him, but He pronounces blessed him who should be preserved from this peril. This praising as Blessed is no doubt meant for John himself. For Jesus knew His man, and knew how the message would affect him. But by this word John was also seasonably reminded of a prophetic passage which announces that the Messiah will become a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence to many (Isaiah 8:14); and the recollection of this may have very much helped him to set himself right concerning his true relation to Jesus, and with a composed soul, as the herald of the Lamb of God, to go quietly and silently to that death of his, in which he likewise was to show himself His forerunner. When the disciples of John were departed with Christ’s answer, the heavenly superiority of Christ over this vehement man came out still more strongly. The Baptist had taken offence at Christ’s course of life, but the violent shock of public offence which John had given Him in his ungentle strength did not in the least disconcert the Lord. He felt more that the Baptist had done himself harm with the people, than that he had injured Him. Therefore He took John’s reputation under His protection, so to say, against his own message, by beginning to extol him for the real strength which he had exhibited, and for his true worth. In this encomium we again recognize the Master of souls, the King of the most mighty of men. ‘What went ye out into the wilderness to see?’ He said to the people. ‘A reed shaken with the wind?’ The people had not gone from any curiosity to see, we will say, the reeds by the Jordan waving in the wind. No such frail object as this draws the people. They had been overpowered by the strong, iron-hearted character of the Baptist. And now that John really appeared to be wavering, the people were to remember that impression, and instead of being unjust enough to see in him a reed shaken at the mercy of the wind, to consider him rather as a cedar shaken by the storm. Neither were they to believe that John fluctuated to and fro in his testimony concerning Christ, but they were to trust the solemn declaration spoken by the strong man in his strength. Then again the second time we read: ‘What went ye out for to see? A man clothed in soft raiment?’ And He adds: ‘Behold, they that wear soft clothing,’ men of luxury, ‘are in kings’ houses.’ They had surely seen that the Baptist in the wilderness, out of his own free choice, had worn a garment of camel’s hair, and was girded with a leathern girdle. Therefore they need not fear now that he would be unfaithful to his vocation as witness of the truth, when languishing in Herod’s prison. If he had the soft, weak mind from which the flatterer grows, he would surely be decked with soft clothing in the king’s house; but with his strong heroic soul he will unflinchingly remain in his rough clothing in the king’s prison: he will show that he is equal to his destiny.1 As speaking to the multitude who so easily become violently aroused, He prudently speaks in general terms of people in kings’ houses, to whom John forms a striking contrast. Thus with His first word He set the people at rest concerning the strength and consistency of the Baptist, and the reliableness of his testimony; with His second word, concerning the hardship of his fate, the inevitableness, ay, the necessity of his present condition. Then for the third time He asks, ‘What went ye out for to see? A prophet?’ And He answers: ‘Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet.’ And how far more? Jesus now explains to the people that John is the messenger of the Lord of whom the prophet prophesies (Malachi 3:1), who goes before the coming Lord to prepare the way, and that among all that are born of women there is none greater than he, the Baptist. Thus therefore the Baptist was distinguished above all the prophets through his peculiar position in the kingdom of God: he closed up the old, he announced the new dispensation; he practically set forth the revelations which were given him with the most faithful energy in outward action, by rebuking the people, and consecrating them for the kingdom of heaven through the ordinance of baptism. Just as Moses became the lawgiver or legal establisher of the patriarchial development of the theocracy, so John in his spirit and office comprised the whole prophetic development of the theocracy in practical activity. But when Jesus extolled him as the most eminent among those born of women (those not yet born again through the New Testament baptism into Christ’s death), He added yet the declaration: ‘Notwithstanding’ (in a spiritual point of view) ‘he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.’ With these last announcements Jesus had clearly explained to the people the Baptist’s precise mission; that, namely, of announcing the Messiah. In so doing, He had at the same time made it sufficiently clear to all that the Messiah had appeared, and that Himself was He. The last word ought also to have given His hearers the clue to understand how it was that the Baptist was not perfectly able already to understand Himself. But now Jesus considered it necessary to come back with an explanation to that word of His which placed the Baptist above the prophets. Until John1-thus He explains Himself-all the prophets, as also the law, stood, so far as related to the kingdom of God, in the domain of prophecy. They set forth this kingdom as a future kingdom. But since John’s appearance that was changed. From his days up to this moment the kingdom of heaven continues in powerful, living activity, violently forcing its way, on the road to perfect mastery. Now it is drawn forth with violence from its hidden depth, and the theocratic violent ones, the holy doers of violence, actually in reality draw it in; they obtain it, they have it.1 In this respect, Christ adds, ye may consider John as the first forerunning violent one, as the Elijah whom the prophet has designated as the forerunner of the Messiah (Malachi 4:5). ‘He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!’ we finally read; that means, the other and mightier Violent One do ye now find out and acknowledge. Now it struck the Lord with a feeling of pain to reflect how much they both, the pioneer and the Establisher of the kingdom of heaven, were misunderstood by the people; so He gave His hearers a solemn rebuke on this subject in the form of a parable: ‘Whereunto shall I liken this generation? Unto children sitting in the market. They call out to their fellows, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced! We have mourned unto you, and ye have not wept!’ We must carefully observe that these are capricious children who are here represented, who in one and the same moment want to play with their fellows now at a wedding, now at a mourning, and who complain that their fellows will not join in the game. Under this figure the race of that time appears to be represented in its behaviour towards the Baptist and Christ; or it also exhibits the way in which every age lectures its prophets, namely, with a supreme inconsistency, which forgets its own words. This inconsistency appears to be the very point of the parable. Thus the ‘children’ who wished the prophets to dance to their piping, would fain strike up for John to follow a cheerful wedding tune, whilst he was calling the people to rites of mourning; and then immediately in the same breath they wanted the Lord to follow them in a funeral dirge, whilst He desired to summon the people to the cheerful marriage-feast of New Testament liberty.2 The former appeared neither eating nor drinking; he represented in his strict abstemiousness the very deepest earnestness of life. And although the people were moved by the power of his spirit, yet they gradually exclaimed: He is too severe for us, too gloomy; and at length most of them turned away from him with the excuse, that he was possessed by a demon of melancholy. The latter came eating and drinking; freely and with devoted love He shared in their feastings. But then they cried, ‘Behold a man gluttonous and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners,’-the spirit of Pharisaism anathematized Him as one who set Himself above all law. And so they gave Him up likewise. In this sketch Jesus has drawn the chief difficulties which the preaching of the kingdom of heaven always meets with in the world. The preaching of the law men find too solemn, too superhuman, destroying all life’s cheerfulness; in the preaching of the atonement they find a favouring of levity, of sin.1 And the messengers of God, whose office it is to call the world to the proper seasons of mourning and of feasting, must always be content to bear being rejected by the world’s criticism. But this melancholy experience is only a qualified one. Some there always are who receive the heavenly wisdom which they set forth, and become children of their spirit. And these children of wisdom have always made themselves answerable for her, and have maintained and justified her claims and her righteousness by their word and life. The children of wisdom make themselves answerable for her claims, as children for their mother.2 That was a critical moment in which Jesus spoke these words to the people. John, in his weakness, had endangered by his message both Christ’s reputation with the people and his own. The people might now have been tempted passionately to take up the Baptist’s question and go on with assaulting the authority of Jesus, or else passionately to declare themselves on Jesus’ side in order to blame the Baptist; or they might even have begun to go all wrong concerning both prophets. This error of the Baptist’s Jesus remedies; indeed, He even makes use of this opportunity clearly to explain to the people the difference between the Baptist’s position and His own, and the higher unity of the two positions in the establishing of the kingdom of heaven; and then He proceeds to show them how wrongly they had acted, first towards the Baptist, and then towards Him. Thus the most perfect policy could not have given a better turn to the occurrence; here, however, this wisdom was the policy of the Prince of the kingdom of heaven, which is in perfect unity with holiness and love. notes 1. Wieseler, in his Chronological Synopsis, places the date of the Baptist’s imprisonment in March of the year 782 u.c. (p. 223.) But this is done upon the incorrect supposition already referred to with respect to that return of Jesus to Galilee, with which the synoptists link the imprisonment of the Baptist. Further on Wieseler rests this view upon the supposition of an exact chronological succession of events in the synoptists, particularly in Luke, and finds especially in the σάββατον δευτερόπρωτον in Luke 6:1 his authority for supposing that this said return of Jesus to Galilee, and consequently also the imprisonment of the Baptist, must have taken place about this time. But we have only to consider the intermixture of the several series of events to make us abstain from insisting upon this chronological order in these Gospels; and in respect to Luke in particular, it is plain enough that in his narration he did not aim at a purely objective arrangement. With reference to this, let us compare, for example, the position of the story of the centurion at Capernaum with the position of the Sermon on the Mount. Next, Wieseler adduces proofs from profane history. First he finds out (p. 241) that Agrippa I. came to Palestine either in the autumn of a.d. 31 (784), or in the spring of the following year, and that he found Herodias already married to Herod. From this we only arrive at the indeterminate date of the marriage happening before this time. But it required at the same time to be proved that it took place after a.d. 28. This then Wieseler tries to establish in the following manner:-According to Josephus, Antiq. 18, 5, 1, Herod first formed the plan of his union with Herodias whilst on a business journey to Rome. But this journey, Wieseler says, could not have happened before the year 29. For in this year, so we are told, the old Empress Livia, the mother of Tiberius, died; and Herod probably made this journey to Rome on a visit of condolence, in order to make an opportunity of gaining some advantages for himself. Now this supposition has surely nothing convincing in it. Such a man as Herod would not wait for such a particularly special event, in order to make interest for himself in Rome. And it is also very much to be questioned whether with a man like Tiberius it would have been at all politic to make use of an occasion of condolence in order to compass private ends of his own. One rather gets out of the way of mourning tyrants. Thus Agrippa also was obliged to leave Rome, because, as being the former friend of the Emperor’s son Drusus, who was poisoned by Sejanus, he reminded Tiberius of his death. Besides, it is alleged that at a later period Agrippa I. accused Herod to Caligula of having been guilty of conspiring with Sejanus against Tiberius’ government. From this also it is to follow, that Herod’s journey was subsequent to the death of Livia, because it was only from that time that Sejanus rose to importance, and ‘because the alleged conspiracy could hardly have been formed, except, on the one hand, through personal intercourse, and, on the other hand, at a time when Sejanus was already enjoying great importance.’ But such an accusation as Agrippa brought against Herod before Caligula surely does not presuppose either that Herod must have had personal intercourse with Sejanus in Rome, or that it must have taken place after Sejanus’ elevation. If probabilities, or shows of probability, were wanted for that accusation, it would even be more probable that Herod would have then been able to confide in Sejanus in the manner alluded to, when the latter had not reached the height of his influence at the court of Tiberius, than later. Thus it is no way proved that the imprisonment of the Baptist could not have taken place till the year 782.1 2. It will be shown hereafter that Christ’s lament over the Galilean cities is assigned by Luke to a more fitting occasion than it is by Matthew; Luke connecting it with Jesus’ departure from Galilee. But so much must even here be said, that that lament was evidently uttered as a retrospect of His ministry in those parts after it was finished, whereas as yet Jesus was still carrying on His ministry in Capernaum and Bethsaida. 3. Some have thought it unlikely that John would have been allowed whilst in prison to hold intercourse with his disciples, and through them with the world. But in reply to this it has been with justice remarked, that in ancient times imprisonment did not infer a regular locking up of the prisoner, as in later times; and in favour of this has been urged the intercourse which Socrates whilst in prison held with his pupils, also Acts 24:23 and Matthew 25:36. See the passage above cited in Weisse, vol. i. p. 272. 4. That the Baptist was more than a prophet is shown by that great act of zeal for true religion in which he pronounced the nation unclean, and required it to submit to baptism, by which indirectly even Jesus was led to seek baptism at his hands. It should be remarked in addition to what we have before said on this subject, that our explanation of the baptism of Jesus is fully confirmed by the prophet Haggai, Haggai 2:12-15. ÷ ======================================================================== CHAPTER 100: 02.103. PART V ======================================================================== PART V the time of jesus’ appearing and disappearing amid the persecutions of his mortal enemies ======================================================================== Source: https://sermonindex.net/books/writings-of-j-p-lange-volume-1/ ========================================================================