_THE JOY OF THE LORD._
NEHEMIAH viii. 9-18.
"All the people wept when they heard the words of the law." Was it for
this mournful end that Ezra had studied the sacred law and guarded it
through the long years of political unrest, until at length he was
able to make it known with all the pomp and circumstance of a national
festival? Evidently the leaders of the people had expected no such
result. But, disappointing as it was, it might have been worse. The
reading might have been listened to with indifference; or the great,
stern law might have been rejected with execration, or scoffed at with
incredulity. Nothing of the kind happened. There was no doubt as to
the rightness of The Law, no reluctance to submit to its yoke, no
disposition to ignore its requirements. This law had come with all the
authority of the Persian government to sanction it; and yet it is
evidently no fear of the magistrate, but their own convictions, their
confirming consciences, that here influence the people and determine
their attitude to it. Thus Ezra's labours were really honoured by the
Jews, though their fruits were received so sorrowfully.
We must not suppose that the Jews of Ezra's day anticipated the ideas
of St. Paul. It was not a Christian objection to law that troubled
them; they did not complain of its externalism, its bondage, its
formal requirements and minute details. To imagine that these features
of The Law were regarded with disapproval by the first hearers of it
is to credit them with an immense advance in thought beyond their
leaders--Ezra, Nehemiah, and the Levites. It is clear that their grief
arose simply from their perception of their own miserable
imperfections in contrast to the lofty requirements of The Law, and in
view of its sombre threats of punishment for disobedience. The
discovery of a new ideal of conduct above that with which we have
hitherto been satisfied naturally provokes painful stings of
conscience, which the old salve, compounded of the comfortable little
notions we once cherished, will not neutralise. In the new light of
the higher truth we suddenly discover that the "robe of righteousness"
in which we have been parading is but as "filthy rags." Then our once
vaunted attainments become despicable in our own eyes. The eminence on
which we have been standing so proudly is seen to be a wretched
mole-hill compared with the awful snow-peak from which the clouds have
just dispersed. Can we ever climb that? Goodness now seems to be
hopelessly unattainable; yet never before was it so desirable, because
never before did it shine with so rare and fascinating a lustre.
But, it may be objected, was not the religious and moral character of
the teaching of the great prophets--of Hosea, Isaiah, Micah,
Jeremiah--larger and higher and more spiritual than the legalism of
the Pentateuch? That may be granted; but it is not to the point here.
The lofty prophetic teaching had never been accepted by the nation.
The prophets had been voices crying in the wilderness. Their great
spiritual thoughts had never been seriously followed except by a small
group of devout souls. It was the Christian Church that first built on
the foundation of the prophets. But in Ezra's day the Jews as a body
frankly accepted The Law. Whether this were higher or lower than the
ideal of prophetism does not affect the case. The significant fact is
that is was higher than any ideal the people had hitherto adopted in
practice. The perception of this fact was most distressing to them.
Nevertheless the Israelite leaders did not share the feeling of grief.
In their eyes the sorrow of the Jews was a great mistake. It was even
a wrong thing for them thus to distress themselves. Ezra loved The
Law, and therefore it was to him a dreadful surprise to discover that
the subject of his devoted studies was regarded so differently by his
brethren. Nehemiah and the Levites shared his more cheerful view of
the situation. Lyrics of this and subsequent ages bear testimony to
the passionate devotion with which the sacred Torah was cherished by
loyal disciples. The author of the hundred and nineteenth Psalm
ransacks his vocabulary for varying phrases on which to ring the
changes in praise of the law, the judgments, the statutes, the
commandments of God. He cries:--
"I will delight in Thy statutes:
I will not forget Thy word.
* * * *
"Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold
Wondrous things out of Thy law.
* * * *
"Unless Thy law had been my delight,
I should have perished in mine affliction.
* * * *
"Great peace have they that love Thy law,
And they have none occasion of stumbling."
Moreover, the student of The Law to-day can perceive that its
intention was beneficent. It maintained righteousness; and
righteousness is the chief good. It regulated the mutual relations of
men with regard to justice; it ordained purity; it contained many
humane rules for the protection of men and even of animals; it
condescended to most wholesome sanitary directions. Then it declared
that he who kept its ordinances should live, not merely by reason of
an arbitrary arrangement, but because it pointed out the natural and
necessary way of life and health. The Divine Spirit that had guided
the development of it had presided over something more inviting than
the forging of fetters for a host of miserable slaves, something more
useful than the creation of a tantalising exemplar that should be the
despair of every copyist. Ezra and his fellow-leaders knew the
_intention_ of The Law. This was the ground of their joyous confidence
in contemplation of it. They were among those who had been led by
their personal religion into possession of "the secret of the Lord."
They had acquainted themselves with Him, and therefore they were at
peace. Their example teaches us that we must penetrate beyond the
letter to the spirit of revelation if we would discover its hidden
thoughts of love. When we do so even The Law will be found to enshrine
an evangel. Not that these men of the olden times perceived the
fanciful symbolism which many Christians have delighted to extract
from the most mechanical details of the tabernacle ritual. Their eyes
were fixed on the gracious Divine purpose of creating a holy
nation--separate and pure--and The Law seemed to be the best
instrument for accomplishing that purpose. Meanwhile its
impracticability did not strike them, because they thought of the
thing in itself rather than of the relation of men to it. Religious
melancholy springs from habits of subjectivity. The joyous spirit is
that which forgets self in the contemplation of the thoughts of God.
It is our meditation of Him--not of self--that is sweet.
Of course this would have been unreasonable if it had totally ignored
human conditions and their relation to the Divine. In that case Ezra
and his companions would have been vain dreamers, and the sorrowing
multitude people of common-sense perceptions. But we must remember
that the new religious movement was inspired by faith. It is faith
that bridges the vast chasm between the real and the ideal. God had
given The Law in lovingkindness and tender mercy. Then God would make
the attainment of His will revealed in it possible. The part of brave
and humble men was to look away from themselves to the revelation of
God's thought concerning them with grateful admiration of its glorious
perfection.
While considerations of this sort would make it possible for the
leaders to regard The Law in a very different spirit from that
manifested by the rest of the Jews, other reflections led them to go
further and check the outburst of grief as both unseemly and hurtful.
It was unseemly, because it was marring the beauty of a great
festival. The Jews were to stay their grief seeing that the day was
holy unto the Lord.[230] This was as much as to say that sorrow was
defiling. The world had to wait for the religion of the cross reveal
to it the sanctity of sorrow. Undoubtedly the Jewish festivals were
joyous celebrations. It is the greatest mistake to represent the
religion of the Old Testament as a gloomy cult overshadowed by the
thunder-clouds of Sinai. On the contrary, its greatest offices were
celebrated with music, dancing, and feasting. The high day was a
holiday, sunny and mirthful. It would be a pity to spoil such an
occasion with unseasonable lamentations. But Nehemiah and Ezra must
have had a deeper thought than this in their deprecation of grief at
the festival. To allow such behaviour is to entertain unworthy
feelings towards God. A day sacred to the Lord is a day in which His
presence is especially felt. To draw near to God with no other
feelings than emotions of fear and grief is to misapprehend His nature
and His disposition towards His people. Worship should be inspired
with the gladness of grateful hearts praising God, because otherwise
it would discredit His goodness.
[230] Neh. viii. 9.
This leads to a thought of wider range and still more profound
significance, a thought that flashes out of the sacred page like a
brilliant gem, a thought so rich and glad and bountiful that it speaks
for its own inspiration as one of the great Divine ideas of
Scripture--"The joy of the Lord is your strength." Though the
unseemliness of mourning on a feast day was the first and most obvious
consideration urged by the Jewish leaders in their expostulation with
the distressed multitude, the real justification for their rebukes and
exhortations is to be found in the magnificent spiritual idea that
they here give expression to. In view of such a conviction as they now
gladly declare they would regard the lamentation of the Jews as more
than unseemly, as positively hurtful and even wrong.
By the expression "the joy of the Lord" it seems clear that Nehemiah
and his associates meant a joy which may be experienced by men through
their fellowship with God. The phrase could be used for the gladness
of God Himself; as we speak of the righteousness of God or the love of
God, so we might speak of His joy in reference to His own infinite
life and consciousness. But in the case before us the drift of the
passage directs our thoughts to the moods and feelings of men. The
Jews are giving way to grief, and they are rebuked for so doing and
encouraged to rejoice. In this situation some thoughts favourable to
joy on their part are naturally suitable. Accordingly they are called
to enter into a pure and lofty gladness in which they are assured they
will find their strength.
This "joy of the Lord," then, is the joy that springs up in our hearts
by means of our relation to God. It is a God-given gladness, and it is
found in communion with God. Nevertheless the other "joy of the Lord"
is not to be left out of account when we think of the gladness which
comes to us from God, for the highest joy is possible to us just
because it is first experienced by God. There could be no joy in
communion with a morose divinity. The service of Moloch must have been
a terror, a perfect agony to his most loyal devotees. The feelings of
a worshipper will always be reflections from what he thinks he
perceives in the countenance of his god. They will be gloomy if the
god is a sombre personage, and cheerful if he is a glad being. Now the
revelation of God in the Bible is the unveiling with growing clearness
of a countenance of unspeakable love and beauty and gladness. He is
made known to us as "the blessed God"--the happy God. Then the joy of
His children is the overflow of His own deep gladness streaming down
to them. This is the "joy in the presence of the angels" which,
springing from the great heart of God, makes the happiness of
returning penitents, so that they share in their Father's delight, as
the prodigal shares in the home festivities when the fatted calf is
killed. This same communication of gladness is seen in the life of our
Lord, not only during those early sunny days in Galilee when His
ministry opened under a cloudless sky, but even amid the darkness of
the last hours at Jerusalem, for in His final discourse Jesus prayed
that His joy might be in His disciples in order that their joy might
be full. A more generous perception of this truth would make religion
like sunshine and music, like the blooming of spring flowers and the
outburst of woodland melody about the path of the Christian pilgrim.
It is clear that Jesus Christ expected this to be the case since He
commenced His teaching with the word "Blessed." St. Paul, too, saw the
same possibility, as his repeated encouragements to "Rejoice" bear
witness. Religion may be compared to one of those Italian city
churches which are left outwardly bare and gloomy, while within they
are replete with treasures of art. We must cross the threshold, push
aside the heavy curtain, and tread the sacred pavement, if we would
see the beauty of sculptured column and mural fresco and jewelled
altar-piece. Just in proportion as we draw near to God shall we behold
the joy and love that ever dwell in Him, till the vision of these
wonders kindles our love and gladness.
Now the great idea that is here suggested to us connects this Divine
joy with strength--the joy is an inspiration of energy. By the nature
of things joy is exhilarating, while pain is depressing. Physiologists
recognise it as a law of animal organisms that happiness is a nerve
tonic. It would seem that the same law obtains in spiritual
experience. On the other hand, nothing is more certain than that there
are enervating pleasures, and that the free indulgence in pleasure
generally weakens the character; with this goes the equally certain
truth that men may be braced by suffering, that the east wind of
adversity may be a real stimulant. How shall we reconcile these
contradictory positions? Clearly there are different kinds and grades
of delight, and different ways of taking and using every form of
gladness. Pure hedonism cannot but be a weak system of life. It is the
Spartan, not the Sybarite, who is capable of heroic deeds. Even
Epicurus, whose name has been abused to shelter low pleasure-seeking,
perceived, as clearly as "The Preacher," the melancholy truth that the
life that is given over to the satisfaction of personal desires is but
"vanity of vanities." The joy that exhilarates is not sought as a
final goal. It comes in by the way when we are pursuing some objective
end. Then this purest joy is as far above the pleasure of the
self-indulgent as heaven is above hell. It may even be found side by
side with bodily pain, as when martyrs exult in their flames, or when
stricken souls in more prosaic circumstances awake to the wonderful
perception of a rare Divine gladness. It is this joy that gives
strength. There is enthusiasm in it. Such a joy not being an end in
itself is a means to a great practical end. God's glad children are
strong to do and bear His will, strong in their very gladness.
This was good news to the Jews, outwardly but a feeble flock and a
prey to the ravening wolves from neighbouring lands. They had
recovered hope after building their walls; but these hastily
constructed fortifications did not afford them their most secure
stronghold. Their refuge was God. They carried bows and spears and
swords; but the strength with which they wielded these weapons
consisted in the enthusiasm of a Divine gladness--not the orgiastic
fury of the heathen, but the deep, strong joy of men who knew the
secret of their Lord, who possessed what Wordsworth calls "inward
glee." This joy was essentially a moral strength. It bestowed the
power wherewith to keep the law. Here was the answer to the
discouragement of the people in their dawning perception of the lofty
requirements of God's holy will. The Christian can best find energy
for service, as well as the calm strength of patience, in that still
richer Divine gladness which is poured into his heart by the grace of
Christ. It is not only unfortunate for anybody to be a mournful
Christian; it is dangerous, hurtful, even wrong. Therefore the gloomy
servant of God is to be rebuked for missing the Divine gladness.
Seeing that the source of it is in God, and not in the Christian
himself, it is attainable and possible to the most sorrowful. He who
has found this "pearl of great price" can afford to miss much else in
life and yet go on his way rejoicing.
It was natural that the Jews should have been encouraged to give
expression to the Divine joy at a great festival. The final
harvest-home of the year, the merry celebration of the vintage, was
then due. No Jewish feast was more cheerful than this, which expressed
gratitude for "wine that maketh glad the heart of man." The
superiority of Judaism over heathenism is seen in the tremendous
contrast between the simple gaiety of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles
and the gross debauchery of the Bacchanalian orgies which disgraced a
similar occasion in the pagan world. It is to our shame in modern
Christendom that we dare not imitate the Jews here, knowing too well
that if we tried to do so we should only sink to the heathen level.
Our Feast of Tabernacles would certainly become a Feast of Bacchus,
bestial and wicked. Happily the Jews did not feel the Teutonic danger
of intemperance. Their festival recognised the Divine bounty in
nature, in its richest, ripest autumn fruitfulness, which was like the
smile of God breaking out through His works to cheer His children.
Bivouacking in greenwood bowers, the Jews did their best to return to
the life of nature and share its autumn gladness. The chronicler
informs us that since the days of Joshua the Jews had never observed
the feast as they did now--never with such great gladness and never so
truly after the directions of their law. Although the actual words he
gives as from The Law[231] are not to be found in the Pentateuch, they
sum up the regulations of that work. This then is the first
application of The Law which the people have received with so much
distress. It ordains a glad festival. So much brighter is religion
when it is understood and practised than when it is only contemplated
from afar! Now the reading of The Law can go on day by day, and be
received with joy.
[231] Neh. viii. 14, 15
Finally, like the Christians who collected food and money at the
_Agapé_ for their poorer brethren and for the martyrs in prison, the
Jews were to "send portions" to the needy.[232] The rejoicing was not
to be selfish; it was to stimulate practical kindness. Here was its
safeguard. We shrink from accepting joy too freely lest it should be
followed by some terrible Nemesis; but if, instead of gloating over it
in secret, selfishly and greedily, we use it as a talent, and
endeavour to lessen the sorrows of others by inviting them to share
it, the heathenish dread is groundless. He who is doing his utmost to
help his brother may dare to be very happy.
[232] Neh. viii. 12.