_EZRA THE SCRIBE._
EZRA vii. 1-10.
Although the seventh chapter of "Ezra" begins with no other indication
of time than the vague phrase "Now after these things," nearly sixty
years had elapsed between the events recorded in the previous chapter
and the mission of Ezra here described. We have no history of this
long period. Zerubbabel passed into obscurity without leaving any
trace of his later years. He had accomplished his work; the temple had
been built; but the brilliant Messianic anticipations that had
clustered about him at the outset of his career were to await their
fulfilment in a greater Son of David, and people could afford to
neglect the memory of the man who had only been a sort of temporary
trustee of the hope of Israel. We shall come across indications of the
effects of social trouble and religious decadence in the state of
Jerusalem as she appeared at the opening of this new chapter in her
history. She had not recovered a vestige of her ancient civic
splendour; the puritan rigour with which the returned exiles had
founded a Church among the ruins of her political greatness had been
relaxed, so that the one distinguishing feature of the humble colony
was in danger of melting away in easy and friendly associations with
neighbouring peoples. When it came, the revival of zeal did not
originate in the Holy City. It sprang up among the Jews at Babylon.
The earlier movement in the reign of Cyrus had arisen in the same
quarter. The best of Judaism was no product of the soil of Palestine:
it was an exotic. The elementary "Torah" of Moses emerged from the
desert, with the learning of Egypt as its background, long before it
was cultivated at Jerusalem to blossom in the reformation of Josiah.
The final edition of The Law was shaped in the Valley of the
Euphrates, with the literature and science of Babylon to train its
editors for their great task, though it may have received its
finishing touches in Jerusalem. These facts by no means obscure the
glory of the inspiration and Divine character of The Law. In its
theology, in its ethics, in its whole spirit and character, the
Pentateuch is no more a product of Babylonian than of Egyptian ideas.
Its purity and elevation of character speak all the more emphatically
for its Divine origin when we take into account its corrupt
surroundings; it was like a white lily growing on a dung-heap.
Still it is important to notice that the great religious revival of
Ezra's time sprang up on the plains of Babylon, not among the hills of
Judah. This involves two very different facts--the peculiar spiritual
experience with which it commenced, and the special literary and
scientific culture in the midst of which it was shaped.
First, it originated in the experience of the captivity, in
humiliation and loss, and after long brooding over the meaning of the
great chastisement. The exiles were like poets who "learn in sorrow
what they teach in song." This is apparent in the pathetic psalms of
the same period, and in the writings of the visionary of Chebar, who
contributed a large share to the new movement in view of the
re-establishment of religious worship at Jerusalem.
Thus Jerusalem was loved by the exiles, the temple pictured in detail
to the imagination of men who never trod its sacred courts, and the
sacrificial system most carefully studied by people who had no means
of putting it in practice. No doubt The Law now represented an
intellectual rather than a concrete form of religion. It was an ideal.
So long as the real is with us, it tends to depress the ideal by its
material bulk and weight. The ideal is elevated in the absence of the
real. Therefore the pauses of life are invaluable; by breaking through
the iron routine of habit, they give us scope for the growth of larger
ideas that may lead to better attainments.
Secondly, this religious revival appeared in a centre of scientific
and literary culture. The Babylonians "had cultivated arithmetic,
astronomy, history, chronology, geography, comparative philology, and
grammar."[72] In astronomy they were so advanced that they had mapped
out the heavens, catalogued the fixed stars, calculated eclipses, and
accounted for them correctly. Their enormous libraries of terra-cotta,
only now being unearthed, testify to their literary activity. The Jews
brought back from Babylon the names of the months, the new form of
letters used in writing their books, and many other products of the
learning and science of the Euphrates. Internally the religion of
Israel is solitary, pure, Divine. Externally the literary form of it,
and the physical conception of the universe which it embodies, owe not
a little to the light which God had bestowed upon the people of
Babylon; just as Christianity, in soul and essence the religion of
Jesus of Nazareth, was shaped in theory by the thought, and in
discipline by the law and order, with which God had endowed the two
great European races of Greece and Rome.
[72] Rawlinson, "Ezra and Nehemiah," p. 2.
The chronicler introduces Ezra with a brief sketch of his origin and a
bare outline of his expedition to Jerusalem.[73] He then next
transcribes a copy of the edict of Artaxerxes which authorised the
expedition.[74] After this he inserts a detailed account of the
expedition from the pen of Ezra himself, so that here the narrative
proceeds in the first person--though, in the abrupt manner of the
whole book, without a word of warning that this is to be the case.[75]
[73] Ezra vii. 1-10.
[74] Ezra vii. 11-26.
[75] Ezra vii. 27-ix.
In the opening verses of Ezra vii. the chronicler gives an epitome of
the genealogy of Ezra, passing over several generations, but leading
up to Aaron. Ezra, then, could claim a high birth. He was a born
priest of the select family of Zadok, but not of the later house of
high-priests. Therefore the privileges which are assigned to that
house in the Pentateuch cannot be accounted for by ascribing ignoble
motives of nepotism to its publisher. Though Ezra is named "The
Priest," he is more familiarly known to us as "The Scribe." The
chronicler calls him "a ready scribe" (or, a scribe skilful) "in the
law of Moses, which the Lord God of Israel had given." Originally the
title "Scribe" was used for town recorders and registrars of the
census. Under the later kings of Judah, persons bearing this name were
attached to the court as the writers and custodians of state
documents. But these are all quite distinct from the scribes who
appeared after the exile. The scribes of later days were guardians and
interpreters of the written Torah, the sacred law. They appeared with
the publication and adoption of the Pentateuch. They not only studied
and taught this complete law; they interpreted and applied its
precepts. In so doing they had to pronounce judgments of their own.
Inasmuch as changing circumstances necessarily required modifications
in rules of justice, while The Law could not be altered after Ezra's
day, great ingenuity was required to reconcile the old law with the
new decisions. Thus arose sophistical casuistry. Then in "fencing" The
Law the scribes added precepts of their own to prevent men from coming
near the danger of transgression.
Scribism was one of the most remarkable features of the later days of
Israel. Its existence in so much prominence showed that religion had
passed into a new phase, that it had assumed a literary aspect. The
art of writing was known, indeed, in Egypt and Babylon before the
exodus; it was even practised in Palestine among the Hittites as early
as Abraham. But at first in their religious life the Jews did not give
much heed to literary documents. Priestism was regulated by
traditional usages rather than by written directions, and justice was
administered under the kings according to custom, precedent, and
equity. Quite apart from the discussion concerning the antiquity of
the Pentateuch, it is certain that its precepts were neither used nor
known in the time of Josiah, when the reading of the roll discovered
in the temple was listened to with amazement. Still less did
prophetism rely on literary resources. What need was there of a book
when the Spirit of God was speaking through the audible voice of a
living man? At first the prophets were men of action. In more
cultivated times they became orators, and then their speeches were
sometimes preserved--as the speeches of Demosthenes were
preserved--for future reference, after their primary end had been
served. Jeremiah found it necessary to have a scribe, Baruch, to write
down his utterances. This was a further step in the direction of
literature; and Ezekiel was almost entirely literary, for his
prophecies were most of them written in the first instance. Still they
were prophecies; _i.e._, they were original utterances, drawn directly
from the wells of inspiration. The function of the scribes was more
humble--to collect the sayings and traditions of earlier ages; to
arrange and edit the literary fragments of more original minds. Their
own originality was almost confined to their explanations of difficult
passages, or their adaptation of what they received to new needs and
new circumstances. Thus we see theology passing into the reflective
stage: it is becoming historical; it is being transformed into a
branch of archæology. Ezra the Scribe is nervously anxious to claim
the authority of Moses for what he teaches. The robust spirit of
Isaiah was troubled with no such scruple. Scribism rose when prophecy
declined. It was a melancholy confession that the fountains of living
water were drying up. It was like an aqueduct laboriously constructed
in order to convey stored water to a thirsty people from distant
reservoirs. The reservoirs may be full, the aqueduct may be sound;
still who would not rather drink of the sparkling stream as it springs
from the rock? Moreover scribism degenerated into rabbinism, the
scholasticism of the Jews. We may see its counterpart in the Catholic
scholasticism which drew supplies from patristic tradition, and again
in Protestant scholasticism--which came nearer to the source of
inspiration in the Bible, and yet which stiffened into a traditional
interpretation of Scripture, confining its waters to iron pipes of
orthodoxy.
But some men refuse to be thus tied to antiquarianism. They dare to
believe that the Spirit of God is still in the world, whispering in
the fancy of little children, soothing weary souls, thundering in the
conscience of sinners, enlightening honest inquirers, guiding
perplexed men of faith. Nevertheless we are always in danger of one or
other of the two extremes of formal scholasticism and indefinite
mysticism. The good side of the scribes' function is suggestive of
much that is valuable. If God did indeed speak to men of old "in
divers portions and in divers manners,"[76] what He said must be of
the greatest value to us, for truth in its essence is eternal. We
Christians have the solid foundation of a historical faith to build
upon, and we cannot dispense with our gospel narratives and doctrinal
epistles. What Christ was, what Christ did, and the meaning of all
this, is of vital importance to us; but it is chiefly important
because it enables us to see what He is to-day--a Priest ever living
to make intercession for us, a Deliverer who is even now able to save
unto the uttermost all who come unto God by Him, a present Lord who
claims the active loyalty of every fresh generation of the men and
women for whom He died in the far-off past. We have to combine the
concrete historical religion with the inward, living, spiritual
religion to reach a faith that shall be true both objectively and
subjectively--true to the facts of the universe, and true to personal
experience.
[76] Heb. i. 1.
Ezra accomplished his great work, to a large extent, because he
ventured to be more than a scribe. Even when he was relying on the
authority of antiquity, the inspiration which was in him saved him
from a pedantic adherence to the letter of the Torah as he had
received it. The modification of The Law when it was reissued by the
great scribe, which is so perplexing to some modern readers, is a
proof that the religion of Israel had not yet lost vitality and
settled down into a fossil condition. It was living; therefore it was
growing, and in growing it was casting its old shell and evolving a
new vesture better adapted to its changed environment. Is not this
just a signal proof that God had not deserted His people?
Ezra is presented to us as a man of a deeply devout nature. He
cultivated his own personal religion before he attempted to influence
his compatriots. The chronicler tells us that he had prepared
(directed) his heart, to seek the law of the Lord and to do it. With
our haste to obtain "results" in Christian service, there is danger
lest the need of personal preparation should be neglected. But work is
feeble and fruitless if the worker is inefficient, and he must be
quite as inefficient if he has not the necessary graces as if he had
not the requisite gifts. Over and above the preparatory intellectual
culture--never more needed than in our own day--there is the
all-essential spiritual training. We cannot effectually win others to
that truth which has no place in our own hearts. Enthusiasm is kindled
by enthusiasm. The fire must be first burning within the preacher
himself if he would light it in the breasts of other men. Here lies
the secret of the tremendous influence Ezra exerted when he came to
Jerusalem. He was an enthusiast for the law he so zealously
advocated. Now enthusiasm is not the creation of a moment's thought;
it is the outgrowth of long meditation, inspired by deep, passionate
love. It shows itself in the experience expressed by the Psalmist when
he said, "While I mused the fire burned."[77] Ours is not an age of
musing. But if we have no time to meditate over the great verities of
our faith, the flames will not be kindled, and in place of the glowing
fire of enthusiasm we shall have the gritty ashes of officialism.
[77] Psalm xxxix. 3.
Ezra turned his thoughts to the law of his God; he took this for the
subject of his daily meditation, brooding over it until it became a
part of his own thinking. This is the way a character is made. Men
have larger power over their thoughts than they are inclined to admit;
and the greatness or the meanness, the purity or the corruption of
their character depends on the way in which that power is used. Evil
thoughts may come unbidden to the purest mind--for Christ was tempted
by the devil; but such thoughts can be resisted, and treated as
unwelcome intruders. The thoughts that are welcomed and cherished,
nourished in meditation, and sedulously cultivated--these bosom
friends of the inner man determine what he himself is to become. To
allow one's mind to be treated as the plaything of every idle
reverie--like a boat drifting at the mercy of wind and current without
a hand at the helm--is to court intellectual and moral shipwreck. The
first condition of achieving success in self-culture is to direct the
course of the thinking aright. St. Paul enumerated a list of good and
honourable subjects to bid us "think on" such things.[78]
[78] Phil. iv. 8.
The aim of Ezra's meditation was threefold. First, he would "seek the
law of the Lord," for the teacher must begin with understanding the
truth, and this may involve much anxious searching. Possibly Ezra had
to pursue a literary inquiry, hunting up documents, comparing data,
arranging and harmonising scattered fragments. But the most important
part of his seeking was his effort to find the real meaning and
purpose of The Law. It was in regard to this that he would have to
exercise his mind most earnestly. Secondly, his aim was "to do it." He
would not attempt to preach what he had not tried to perform. He would
test the effect of his doctrine on himself before venturing to
prescribe it for others. Thus he would be most sure of escaping a
subtle snare which too often entraps the preacher. When the godly man
of business reads his Bible, it is just to find light and food for his
own soul; but when the preacher turns the pages of the sacred book, he
is haunted by the anxiety to light upon suitable subjects for his
sermons. Every man who handles religious truths in the course of his
work is in danger of coming to regard those truths as the tools of his
trade. If he succumbs to this danger it will be to his own personal
loss, and then even as instruments in his work the degraded truths
will be blunt and inefficient, because a man can never know the
doctrine until he has begun to obey the commandment. If religious
teaching is not to be pedantic and unreal, it must be interpreted by
experience. The most vivid teaching is a transcript from life.
Thirdly, Ezra would "teach in Israel statutes and judgments." This
necessarily comes last--after the meditation, after the experience.
But it is of great significance as the crown and finish of the rest.
Ezra is to be his nation's instructor. In the new order the first
place is not to be reserved for a king; it is assigned to a
schoolmaster.
This will be increasingly the case as knowledge is allowed to prevail,
and as truth is permitted to sway the lives of men and fashion the
history of communities.
So far we have Ezra's own character and culture. But there was another
side to his preparation for his great life-work of which the
chronicler took note, and which he described in a favourite phrase of
Ezra's, a phrase so often used by the scribe that the later writer
adopted it quite naturally. Ezra's request to be permitted to go up to
Jerusalem with a new expedition is said to have been granted him by
the king "according to the hand of the Lord his God upon him."[79]
Thus the chronicler here acknowledges the Divine hand in the whole
business, as he has the inspired insight to do again and again in the
course of his narrative. The special phrase thus borrowed from Ezra is
rich in meaning. In an earlier passage the chronicler noticed that
"the _eye_ of their God was upon the elders of the Jews."[80] Now, in
Ezra's phrase, it is the _hand_ of his God that is on Ezra. The
expression gives us a distinct indication of the Divine activity. God
works, and, so to speak, uses His hand. It also suggests the nearness
of God. The hand of God is not only moving and acting; it is upon
Ezra. God touches the man, holds him, directs him, impels him; and, as
he shows elsewhere, Ezra is conscious of the influence, if not
immediately, yet by means of a devout study of the providential
results. This Divine power even goes so far as to move the Persian
monarch. The chronicler ascribes the conduct of successive kings of
Persia to the immediate action of God. But here it is connected with
God's hand being on Ezra. When God is holding and directing His
servants, even external circumstances are found to work for their
good, and even other men are induced to further the same end. This
brings us to the kernel, the very essence of religion. That was not
found in Ezra's wisely chosen meditations; nor was it to be seen in
his devout practices. Behind and beneath the man's earnest piety was
the unseen but mighty action of God; and here, in the hand of his God
resting upon him, was the root of all his religious life. In
experience the human and the Divine elements of religion are
inextricably blended together; but the vital element, that which
originates and dominates the whole, is the Divine. There is no real,
living religion without it. It is the secret of energy and the
assurance of victory. The man of true religion is he who has the hand
of God resting upon him, he whose thought and action are inspired and
swayed by the mystic touch of the Unseen.
[79] Ezra vii. 6.
[80] Ezra v. 5.