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THE PARABLES OF OUR LORD.
_WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
I.
NEW EDITION, COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME,
LAWS FROM HEAVEN FOR LIFE ON EARTH: Illustrations of the Book of
Proverbs. Crown 8vo, cloth. Price 7s. 6d.
II.
ROOTS AND FRUITS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. Crown 8vo. Price 7s. 6d.
III.
THE RACE FOR RICHES, AND SOME OF THE PITS INTO WHICH THE RUNNERS FALL.
Foolscap 8vo. Price 1s. 6d.
T. NELSON AND SONS. LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
THE
PARABLES
OF
OUR LORD.
_By the_
_REV. WILLIAM ARNOT._
LONDON:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
1874.
CONTENTS.
Page
_INTRODUCTION,_ 11
I. _The Sower,_ 43
II. _The Tares,_ 75
III. _The Mustard Seed,_ 101
IV. _The Leaven,_ 111
V. _The Hidden Treasure,_ 128
VI. _The Pearl,_ 144
VII. _The Draw-Net,_ 160
VIII. _The Unmerciful Servant,_ 185
IX. _The Vineyard Labourers,_ 204
X. _The Two Sons,_ 223
XI. _The Wicked Husbandmen,_ 237
XII. _The Royal Marriage Feast,_ 254
XIII. _The Ten Virgins,_ 282
XIV. _The Entrusted Talents,_ 299
XV. _The Seed Growing Secretly,_ 312
XVI. _The Two Debtors,_ 326
XVII. _The Good Samaritan,_ 341
XVIII. _The Friend at Midnight,_ 357
XIX. _The Rich Fool,_ 369
XX. _The Barren Fig-Tree,_ 378
XXI. _The Excuses,_ 387
XXII. _The Lost Sheep,_ 402
XXIII. _The Lost Coin,_ 422
XXIV. _The Prodigal Son,_ 427
XXV. _The Prudent Steward,_ 451
XXVI. _The Rich Man and Lazarus,_ 465
XXVII. _Unprofitable Servants,_ 483
XXVIII. _The Importunate Widow,_ 497
XXIX. _The Pharisee and the Publican,_ 509
XXX. _The Servants and the Pounds,_ 520
INTRODUCTION.
We have been accustomed to regard with affectionate veneration the
life-work of the Reformers, and the theology of the Reformation. Of a
later date, and in our own vernacular, we have inherited from the
Puritans an indigenous theology, great in quantity and precious in
kind,--a legacy that has enriched our age more, perhaps, than the age is
altogether willing to acknowledge. At various periods from the time of
the Puritans to the present, our stock of sacred literature has received
additions of incalculable value. So vast and varied have our stores
become at length, that an investigator of the present day can scarcely
expect to find a neglected spot where he may enjoy the luxury of
cultivating virgin soil: so ably, moreover, have our predecessors
fulfilled their tasks, that a modern inquirer, obliged to deal with
familiar themes, cannot console himself with the expectation of dealing
with them to better purpose. It does not follow, however, that a
contribution to the literature of theology is useless, because it
neither touches a new theme, nor treats an old more ably.
The literature of one century, whether sacred or common, will not, when
served up in the lump, satisfy the craving and sustain the life of
another. The nineteenth century must produce its own literature, as it
raises its own corn, and fabricates its own garments. The intellectual
and spiritual treasures of the past should indeed be reverently
preserved and used; but they should be used as seed. Instead of
indolently living on the stores which our fathers left, we should cast
them into the ground, and get the product fresh every season--old, and
yet ever new. The intellectual and spiritual life of an age will wither,
if it has nothing wherewith to sustain itself, but the food which grew
in an earlier era; it must live on the fruits that grow in its own time,
and under its own eye.
Nor will a servile imitation of the ancient masters suffice. A mere
reproduction, for example, of the Puritan theology would not be suitable
in our day; while the truth, which constitutes its essence, remains the
same, it must be cast in the moulds of modern thought, and tinged with
the hues of modern experience.
Engineers surveying for a railway lay down the line level, or as nearly
level as the configuration of the surface will permit; but an engineer's
level is not a straight line; it is the segment of a circle,--that
circle being the circumference of the globe. The line which practically
constitutes a level bends downwards continually as it goes forward,
following the form of the earth, and at every point being at right
angles to the radius. If it were produced in an absolutely straight
line, it would, in the course of a few miles, be high and dry above the
surface of the earth, and entirely useless for the practical purposes of
life. Such would sacred literature become if in blind admiration of the
fathers, the children should simply use the old, and not produce the
new. As we advance along the course of time, we are, as it were, tracing
a circle; and he who would be of use in his generation, must bend his
speculations to the time, and let them touch society on the level at
every point in the progress of the race. To throw a new contribution
into the goodly store does not, therefore, imply a judgment on the part
of the writer that the modern theology is better than the ancient. We
must make our own: it concerns us and our children that what we make be
in substance drawn from the word of God; and in form, suited to the
circumstances of the age.
Still further, the accumulations of the past should be used by those who
inherit them, as a basis on which to build. It is the business of each
generation to lay another course on the wall, and so leave the structure
loftier than they found it. The Bible, like the world, is inexhaustible;
in either department hosts of successive investigators have plied their
tasks from the beginning, and yet there is room.
Some observations are here submitted, more or less strictly introductory
to a treatise on a specific branch of Scriptural exegesis--the Parables
of Our Lord.
I.--ANALOGY.
As the husbandman's first care is neither the fruit nor the tree which
bears it, but the soil in which the tree must grow: so an expositor,
whose ultimate aim is to explain and enforce the parables of Jesus,
should mark well at the outset the fundamental analogies which pervade
the works of God, and constitute the basis of all figurative language,
whether in human teaching or divine.
The Maker and Ruler of the universe pursues an object, and works on a
plan. His purpose is one, and he sees the end from the beginning: the
variations, infinite in number, and vast in individual extent, which
emerge in the details of his administration, are specific accommodations
of means to ends.
The material and moral departments of the divine government are, like
body and soul of a human being, widely diverse from each other; but one
Master administers both with a view to a common end. The two departments
are different in kind, and therefore the laws which regulate the one
cannot be the same as the laws which regulate the other; but in both one
designer operates towards one design, and therefore the laws which
regulate the one must be like the laws which regulate the other. From
the duality of creation, there cannot be identity between the physical
and moral laws; but from the unity of the Creator there must be
similarity.
Nor is it only between the two great departments of the divine
government generically distinguished, that analogies may spring: within
either department, analogies innumerable may be found between one
species and another, and even between individuals of the same species.
Between two parts of the material world, or two portions of human
history, or two processes of mental effort, analogies may be traced, as
well as between the evolutions of matter and the laws of mind.
It is not strictly correct to speak of the similitudes which we have
been accustomed to admire in literature, as "creations of genius;" the
utmost that is competent to genius is to observe and exhibit the
similitudes as they lie in nature. An observing eye, a suggestive mind,
and a loving heart constitute all the necessary apparatus; with these
faculties in exercise, let any one stalk abroad upon the earth among his
fellows, and analogies will spring spontaneously around him, as
manifold and as beautiful as the flowers that by daylight look up from
the earth, or the stars that in the evening reciprocate from heaven the
gentle salutation.
Analogy occupies the whole interval between absolute identity on the one
hand, and complete dissimilarity on the other. You would not say there
is an analogy between two coins of the same metal, struck successively
from the same die; for all practical purposes they are identical.
Although the two objects are thoroughly distinct, as all their sensible
qualities are the same, we are accustomed to speak of them not as
similar but the same. In order that a comparison may be effective either
for ornament or for use, there must be, between the two acts or objects,
a similarity in some points, and a dissimilarity in others. The
comparison for moral or æsthetic purposes is like an algebraic equation
in mathematical science; if the two sides are in all their features the
same, or in all their features different, you may manipulate the signs
till the sun go down, but you will obtain no useful result: it is only
when they are in some of their terms the same and in some different,
that you can bring fruit from their union.
We stand here on the brink of a great deep. For wise ends the system of
nature has been constructed upon a line intermediate between the
extremes of sameness and diversity. If the measure of difference between
classes and individuals had been much greater or much smaller than it
is, the accumulation of knowledge would have been extremely difficult,
or altogether impossible. It is by the combination of similarity and
dissimilarity among sensible objects that science from its lowest to its
highest measures becomes possible. If all animals, or all plants had
been in their sensible qualities precisely the same, there would have
been of animals or vegetables only one class: we could have had no
knowledge regarding them, except as individuals: our knowledge would at
this day have been less than that of savages. Again, if all animals or
all plants had been in their sensible qualities wholly dissimilar--all
from each, and each from all, it would have been impossible to frame
classes; our knowledge, as on the opposite supposition, would have been
limited to our observation of individuals. In either case Zoology or
Botany would have been impossible. Man, endowed with intelligence, could
not, in such a world, have found exercise for his faculties. It would
have been like a seeing eye without a shining light. The power would
have lain dormant for want of a suitable object. Ask the Botanist, the
Naturalist, the Chemist--ask the votary of any science, what makes
accumulated knowledge possible; he will tell you, it is the similarity
which enables him to classify, accompanied by the diversity which
enables him to distinguish. Wanting these two qualities in balanced
union there could be no analogy; and wanting analogy, man could not be
capable of occupying the place which has been assigned to him in
creation.[1]
[1] But in order to employ analogy with effect more is needful than
to make sure that the two objects or acts compared are similar
without being identical: the design for which a comparison is made
enters as an essential element, and decisively determines its value.
Between two given objects an analogy may exist, good for one purpose
but worthless for another. Given two balls, spherical in form and
equal in size, the one of wood and the other of iron; and let the
question be, Do these two objects bear any analogy to each other,
real in itself and capable of being usefully employed? The question
cannot yet be answered: we must first ascertain for what purpose the
comparison is instituted. The two balls are like each other in form,
but unlike in material; whether is it in respect of their form or
their material that you propose to compare them? If one of them rolls
along a gently inclined plane, you may safely infer that the other,
when placed in the same position, will follow the same course; for
although different in other features they are similar in form. But
you cannot infer that because one floats when thrown into the water
the other will float too, for in respect to specific gravity there is
no similarity between them. Again, let two pieces of wood, cut from
the same tree, be brought together, the one a cube, the other a
sphere; you may safely conclude, if one swim in water that the other
will swim too, because though of diverse forms they are of the same
specific gravity; but you cannot conclude, if the one roll on an
inclined plane, that the other will roll also, because though of the
same specific gravity they are diverse forms. Two objects may be
compared for the purpose of inferential analogy, although in nine of
their qualities they are wholly dissimilar, if they resemble each
other in one, and that the quality with respect to which the
comparison is instituted. Again, although two objects be similar in
nine of their properties, and dissimilar only in one, no useful
analogy can be instituted between them if the object for which the
comparison is made save with respect to the one point in which they
are dissimilar. An acquaintance with such simple rudiments would go
far to correct blunders both in the construction and the exposition
of analogies.
In suggesting probabilities and throwing out lines of inquiry, analogy
is of unspeakable value in every branch of science; in sacred
apologetics its specific use is to destroy the force of objections which
may be plausibly urged against facts or doctrines otherwise established;
but it is as an instrument for explaining, illustrating, fixing, and
impressing moral and spiritual truth that we are mainly concerned with
it here.
God's word is as full of analogies as his works. The histories,
offerings, and prophecies of the Old Testament are figures of better
things which have been brought to light by the gospel. The lessons of
the Lord and his apostles teem with types. Almost every doctrine is
given in duplicate: the spirit is provided with a body; a body clothes
the spirit. Every fruitful vine has a strong elm to which it clings;
every strong elm supports a fruitful vine.
One important use of analogy in moral teaching is to fix the lesson on
the imagination and the memory, as you might moor a boat to a tree on
the river's brink to prevent it from gliding down during the night with
the stream. A just analogy suggested at the moment serves to prevent the
more ethereal spiritual conception from sliding out of its place.
In practical morals analogy is employed to surprise and so overcome an
adverse will, rather than merely to help a feeble understanding. In this
department most of the Lord's parables lie. When a man is hardened by
indulgence in his own sin, so that he cannot perceive the truth which
condemns it, the lesson which would have been kept out, if it had
approached in a straight line before his face, may be brought home
effectually by a circuitous route in the form of a parable. When the
conscience stands on its guard against conviction you may sometimes turn
the flank of its defences unperceived, and make the culprit a captive
ere he is aware. The Pharisees were frequently outwitted in this manner.
With complacent self-righteousness they would stand on the outside of
the crowd, and, from motives of curiosity, listen to the prophet of
Nazareth as he told his stories to the people, until at a sudden turn
they perceived that the graphic parable which pleased them so well, was
the drawing of the bow that plunged the arrow deep in their own hearts.
A man may be so situated that though his life is in imminent danger, he
cannot perceive the danger, and consequently makes no effort to escape.
Further, his mind may be so prejudiced that he still counts the beam on
which he stands secure, although a neighbour has faithfully given
warning that it is about to fall; it may be that because he stands on it
he cannot see its frailty. Let some friend who knows his danger, but
wishes him well, approach the spot and hold a mirror in such a position
that the infatuated man shall see reflected in it the under and ailing
side of the beam that lies between him and the abyss. The work is done:
the object is gained: the confident fool, made wise at length, leaps for
life upon the solid ground.
Although the faculty of perceiving and understanding analogies is
inherent in humanity, and consequently co-extensive with the race, it is
developed in a higher degree in some persons and in some communities
than in others. The common opinion, that the inhabitants of mountainous
countries possess this faculty in a higher measure than the inhabitants
of the plains, seems to be sustained by facts. Within the borders of our
own island it is quite certain that the Scotch and the Welsh employ
figures more readily and relish them more intensely than the English.
How far the difference may be directly due to the physical configuration
of the country cannot perhaps be accurately ascertained; but doubtless
the mountains contribute indirectly to the result, by rendering access
more difficult, and so producing a greater measure of isolation and
simplicity.
It is an acknowledged and well-known fact, moreover, that the
inhabitants of eastern countries are more prone to employ figurative
language than the peoples of western Europe; but it is difficult to
determine how far this characteristic is due to the meteorological and
geographical features of the continent, and how far to hereditary
peculiarities of race.
Looking merely to the physical features of their country, you might
expect that the inhabitants of Palestine would possess in a high degree
the faculty of suggesting and appreciating analogical conceptions; the
peculiar history and jurisprudence of the people must have tended
powerfully in the same direction. Accordingly, as might have been
expected from the circumstances of the nation, it appears in point of
fact on the whole face of the Scriptures, that as the institutes of the
commonwealth were symbolical, the language of the people was figurative.
They were at home in metaphor. It was their vernacular. The sudden and
bold adoption of physical forms in order to convey spiritual
conceptions, did not surprise--did not puzzle them. "Ye are the salt of
the earth," "Wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be
gathered together," fell upon their ears, not as a foreign dialect, but
as the accents of their native tongue.
It might easily be shown that no other characteristic connected with the
form of the Scriptures could have done so much to facilitate their
diffusion in all climes, and in all ages, as the analogical mould in
which a large proportion of their conceptions is cast; but this is
scarcely denied by any, and is easily comprehended by all. In another
point of view, less obvious, and not so frequently noticed, the
prevalence in the Scriptures of analogical forms, attaching spiritual
doctrines to natural objects and historic facts, has served a good
purpose in the evidences and exposition of revealed religion. The more
abstract terms of a language are not so distinctly apprehended as the
more concrete, and in the course of ages are more liable to change. The
habit, universal among the writers of the Scriptures from the most
ancient to the latest, of making abstract moral conceptions fast to
pillars of natural objects and current facts, has contributed much to
fix the doctrines like fossils for all time, and so to diminish the area
of controversy. All the more steadily and safely has revealed truth come
down from the earliest time to the present day, that it has in every
part of its course run on two distinct but parallel tracks.
II.--PARABLES.
The parable is one of the many forms in which the innate analogy between
the material and the moral may be, and has been practically applied.[2]
The difficulty of constructing a definition which should include every
similitude that belongs to this class, and exclude all others, has been
well appreciated by expositors and frankly confessed. The parables of
the New Testament, after critics have done their utmost to generalize
and classify, must in the end be accounted _sui generis_, and treated
apart from all others. The etymology of the name affords us no help, for
it is applied without discrimination to widely diverse forms of
comparison; it indicates the juxtaposition of two thoughts or things,
with the view of exhibiting and employing the analogy which may be found
to subsist between them; but several other terms convey precisely the
same meaning, and therefore it cannot supply us with the distinguishing
characteristic of a class. As far as I have been able to observe, hardly
anything has been gained at this point by the application of logical
processes. The distinctions which have been successfully made are
precisely those which are sufficiently obvious without a critical
apparatus; and in regard to those comparisons which bear the closest
affinity to the parable, and in which, on account of the rainbow-like
blending of the boundaries, logical definitions are most needed, logical
definitions have most signally failed. Scholars have, for example,
successfully distinguished parables from myths and fables; but this is
laboriously to erect a fence between two flocks that in their nature
manifest no tendency to intermingle; whereas, from some other forms of
analogy, such as the allegory, the parable cannot be separated by a
definition expressed in general terms, which shall be at once
universally applicable and universally understood.
[2] Christ made it his business to speak in parables; and, indeed,
one may say, the whole visible world is only a parable of the
invisible world. The parable is not only something intermediate
between history and doctrine; it is both history and doctrine--at
once historical doctrine and doctrinal history. Hence its
enchaining, ever fresher, and younger charm. Yes, parable is
nature's own language in the human heart; hence its universal
intelligibility, its, so to speak, permanent sweet scent, its
healing balsam, its mighty power to win one to come again and again
to hear. In short, the parable is the voice of the people, and hence
also the voice of God.--_Die Gleichniss-reden Jesu Christi, von
Fred. Arndt_, vol. i. 2.
Into all parables human motives and actions go as constituents, and in
most of them the processes of nature are also interwoven. The element of
human action is generally introduced in a historic form, as "a certain
man had two sons;" but some of the similitudes of Scripture, which by
general consent are reckoned parables, lack this feature, as for
example, the Lost Sheep.[3] "What man of you, having an hundred sheep?"
For my own part, while there are some that, on the one hand, I can with
confidence include, and some that, on the other, I must with equal
confidence keep out, I see not a few lying ambiguous on the border. My
judgment inclines to what seems a medium between two extremes,--between
the decision of some German philosophical expositors who are too
critical, and the decision of some English practical preachers who are
not critical enough. I would fain eschew, on the one hand, the laborious
trifling by which it is proved that the parable of the Sower is not a
parable; and, on the other hand, the unfortunate facility which admits
into the number almost all similitudes indiscriminately. I shall adopt
the list of Dr. Trench,[4] thirty in number, as being on the whole a
fair and convenient medium; although I could not undertake to
demonstrate that these only, and these all possess the qualities which
in his judgment go to constitute a parable. Some that are included can
scarcely be distinguished by logical definitions from some that are
excluded; but so far am I from considering this a defect, that I deem it
a necessary result of the impalpable infinitesimal graduation by which
the fully-formed parable glides down into the brief detached
metaphorical aphorism, in the words of the Lord Jesus during the period
of his ministry.
[3] It is not, however, by the universal consent of critics that
even this is admitted as a genuine parable. Schultze boldly excludes
it; but he excludes also all the group in Matt. xiii. except the
Tares. By one arbitrary rule after another, he cuts down the whole
number of our Lord's parables to eleven.--_A. H. A. Schultze, de
parabolarum J. C. indole poetica com._ Men have good cause to
suspect the accuracy of their artificial rules, when the application
of them works such havoc. Better that we should have no critical
rules, than adopt such as separate on superficial literal grounds,
things that the judgment of the Church and the common sense of men
have in all ages joined together as substantially of the same class.
[4] Notes on the Parables.
Certain figurative lessons, differing from the parable on the one hand,
and the allegory on the other, may be found scattered up and down both
in the Scriptures and in secular literature, whose distinguishing
characteristic is, that they are not spoken but enacted, and which I am
disposed to regard as more nearly allied than any other to the parables
of our Lord.
They seem to constitute a species of simple primitive germinal drama.
Some examples occur in the history of the Hebrew monarchy before the
period of the captivity. At Elisha's request, Joash, King of Israel,
shot arrows from a bow, in token of the victory which he should obtain
over the Syrians. Left without instructions as to the frequency with
which the operation should be repeated, the king shot three arrows
successively into the ground, and paused. Thereupon the prophet,
interpreting the symbol, declared that the subjugation of the Syrians
would not be complete (2 Kings xiii.) Another specimen may be observed,
shining through the history in the reign of Jehoshaphat, when a prophet
named Chenaanah made a pair of iron horns, and flattered the King of
Israel by the symbol that he would push the Syrians till he should
consume them (2 Chron. xvii. 10). About the time of the captivity, and
in the hands of Ezekiel, this species of parable appears with great
distinctness of outline, and considerable fulness of detail. When a
frivolous people would not take warning of their danger, the prophet,
godly and grave, took a broad flat tile, and sketched on it the outline
of a besieged city, and lay on his left side, silently contemplating the
symbol of his country's fate (chap. iv.) The strange act of the revered
man attracted many eyes, and stirred new questionings in many hearts.
Equally graphic is the representation of Israel's captivity, in the
dramatic parable recorded in chap. xii., where the prophet personally
enacts the melancholy process of packing his goods, and escaping as an
exile.
From the subsequent history, we learn that this significant act arrested
attention; the people gazed in wonder on the sign, and anxiously
inquired into its meaning.
It is eminently worthy of notice that the lavish and bold imagery of
Ezekiel effectually served the immediate purpose for which it was
employed; it attracted the people's regard, explained the prophecy to
their understandings, and fixed the lessons in their memories. It is
true, indeed, that they did not repent; but this only shows that
parables, even when dictated by the Spirit, have not inherent power to
convert; even God's word may, through the hearer's sin, remain a dead
letter in his hand. It emerges incidentally in the history that the
preaching of Ezekiel was eminently popular; crowds came out to hear and
see.
The ultimate spiritual success lies in other hands; but in as far as the
instrument is concerned, it is proved, from the experience of this
ancient prophet, that the mastery of analogies draws the people round
the preacher's feet, and brings his lessons into contact with their
minds and hearts.
In modern times, much argument is employed to prove that the drama may
be pure in itself, and effectual as a moral educator,--argument which,
however excellent it may be in theory, has hitherto proved impotent in
fact. But from the beginning it was not so; Ezekiel was a dramatist; he
acted his prophecies and his preachings on a stage. The warnings were in
this form clearly articulated, and forcefully driven home; if they
failed to produce the ultimate result of repentance, the obstacle lay
not in the feebleness of the instrument, but in the wilful hardness of
the subject whereon the instrument was plied. Dramatic representation in
the simplicity of its infancy was a golden vessel of the sanctuary,
employed in the service of God; long ago it was carried away into
Babylon, and profanely used as a wine cup in the orgies of idols.
Whether it shall ever be wrenched from the enemy, purified, and restored
to the service of the temple, I know not.
In the general history of the world, the most interesting parable of
this class that occurs to my memory is one attributed to a North
American Indian in conversation with a Christian missionary. The red
man had previously been well instructed in the Scriptures, understood
the way of salvation, and enjoyed peace with God. Desiring to explain to
his teacher the turning point of his spiritual experience, he had
recourse, in accordance, perhaps, with the instincts and habits of his
tribe, to the language of dramatic symbols rather than to the language
of articulate words. Having gathered a quantity of dry withered tree
leaves, he spread them in a thin layer, and in a circular form on the
level ground. He then gently laid a living worm in the centre, and set
fire to the circumference on every side. The missionary and the Indian
then stood still and silent, watching the motions of the imprisoned
reptile. It crawled hastily and in alarm towards one side, till it met
the advancing girdle of fire, and then crawled back as hastily to the
other. After making several ineffectual efforts to escape, the creature
retired to the centre, and coiled itself up to await its fate. At this
crisis, and just before the flames reached their helpless victim, the
Indian stept gravely forward, lifted the worm from its fiery prison, and
deposited it in a place of safety. "Thus," this simple preacher of the
cross indicated to the missionary,--"Thus helpless and hopeless I lay,
while the wrath due to my sin advanced on every side to devour me; and
thus sovereignly, mightily, lovingly did Christ deliver my soul from
death."
III.--THE PARABLES OF THE LORD.
Metaphorical language, as we have seen, is deeply rooted in the
fundamental analogy which subsists between the several departments of
our Creator's work; and the parable is a species of figure which, for
all practical purposes, is sufficiently distinguished from others,
although it is scarcely possible to isolate it by a complete logical
definition. Nor is it enough to say that those specimens which are found
in the record of Christ's ministry belong to the species; they may be
said to constitute a species by themselves. The parables which are known
to literature beyond the pale of the evangelic histories are either very
diverse in kind, or very few in number. The practical result is, that
while we treat the parable as a distinct species of analogical
instruction, we must treat the parables spoken by the Lord as a unique
and separate class. As the Lord's people in ancient times dwelt alone,
and were not reckoned among the nations, the Lord's parabolic teaching
stands apart by itself, and cannot with propriety be associated with
other specimens of metaphorical teaching. Logically as well as
spiritually it is true, that "never man spake like this man."
But, when setting aside all other forms of comparison, we confine our
regard to the parable, and, setting aside other specimens, we confine
our regard to the parables spoken by the Lord, other questions arise
concerning the internal and reciprocal relations of these peculiar
compositions; should they be read and considered as so many independent
units miscellaneously scattered over the evangelic record, or should
they be classified according to the place which belongs to them in a
system of dogmatics? or can any method of treatment be suggested
different from both of these extremes, and better than either?
It is doubtless competent to any inquirer to frame the doctrines which
the parables illustrate into a logical scheme, and in his exposition to
transpose the historical order, so that the sequence of the subjects
shall coincide with his arrangement. This method is lawful in regard to
the parables particularly, as it is in regard to the contents of
Scripture generally; but, as a method of prosecuting the inquiry, I
think it loses more on the side of topical and historical interest than
it gains on the side of logical precision. As the Bible generally is in
its own natural order, both more engaging and more instructive than a
catechism compiled from it, although the compiler may have been both
skilful and true; the parables of the Lord, in particular, taken up as
they lie in his ministry, are both more interesting and more profitable
than a logical digest of the theology which they contain, however
faithfully the digest may have been made.
Any one may observe, as he reads our Lord's parables, that some of them
are chiefly occupied with the teaching of doctrine, and others with the
reproof of prevailing sins; but when on the basis of these and other
subordinate distinctions, you proceed to arrange them into separate
classes, you are met and repelled by insurmountable difficulties. When
Bauer, for example, has arranged them in three divisions, dogmatic,
moral, and historic, he is compelled immediately to add another class
called the mixed, as dogmatic-moral and dogmatic-historic, thereby
proving that his logical classification has failed.[5]
[5] In reference to Bauer's classification, Limbourg Brower (_de
parabol. Jesu._) observes that the distinction between parables that
are dogmatic and parables that are moral cannot successfully be
maintained, because of the intimate union maintained in the
discourses of Jesus between the revelation of truth and the
inculcation of duty. This remark, in connection with its ground, is
decisive not only against the particular division to which it is
applied, but to all divisions, in as far as they pretend to be
logically distinct and complete.
By abandoning, for the purposes of exposition, the order in which the
parables have been recorded, and adopting a classification on the basis
of contents or form, some incidental advantages are obtained; especially
some otherwise necessary repetitions are avoided, and some subordinate
relations are by the juxtaposition more easily observed; but the loss
is, I apprehend, much greater than the gain. The temptation to bend the
freely-growing branches of the parable, that they may take their places
in the scheme, is by this method greatly increased; while historical
sequences and logical relations, lying more or less concealed in the
record, are in a great measure thrown away. Accordingly, I prefer the
method of maintaining in the exposition the order which the evangelists
have adopted in the narrative. Besides the advantage of preserving in
all cases the historical circumstances whence the parable sprung, we
discover, as we follow this track, several groups associated together by
the Lord in his ministry, for the sake of their reciprocal relations,
and reverently preserved in their places by the evangelical historians.
The seven in Matt. xiii., and the three in Luke xv., constitute the
chief of those dogmatic groupings formed to our hand in the ministry of
the Lord. I refer to them here as examples, but defer the exposition of
their sequences and relations, until it can be presented with greater
advantage in connection with the examination of their contents.
A question, on some of its sides difficult, meets us here, regarding the
reason why the Lord employed parables in the prosecution of his
ministry. On the one hand, it is certainly true, as may be proved from
all history, that comparisons between material and moral facts or laws,
spring up naturally in human converse; and further, that the truth
expressed in parables, if not in all cases immediately palpable, is
better fitted both to arrest attention at first, and to imprint the
lesson permanently on the learner's memory. But the use and usefulness
of the parable in this respect are obvious and undisputed; it makes
spiritual truth more attractive and more memorable. The difficulty does
not lie on this side; it adheres to a second function of the parable, in
some respects the opposite of the first,--the function of concealing the
doctrine in judgment from closed eyes and hardened hearts. In some
instances and to some extent, the parables, while they conveyed the
doctrine to one portion of the audience, concealed it from another. In
those cases "they are like the husk which preserves the kernel _from_
the indolent, and _for_ the earnest."[6] It is the method, not unknown
in other departments of the divine government, of making the same fact
or law at once profitable to the humble, and punitive to the proud. Not
only the Lord's word, but also the Lord himself, partakes of this
twofold character, and produces these diverse effects; the same rock on
which a meek disciple surely builds his hope, is also the stone over
which scoffers stumble in their final fall.
[6] _Gerlach in Lange._
The judicial or penal function of the parable was indicated by the Lord
in express terms when he explained the meaning of the sower in private
to his own disciples (Matt. xiii. 11-17; Mark iv. 10-13). In these
cases, however, the wilful blindness of men's hearts appears as the sin
which brought down the punishment, and the obstacle which kept out the
blessing. Every word of God is good; but some persons maintain such an
averted attitude of mind, that it glides off like sunbeams from polar
snows, without ever obtaining an entrance to melt or fructify. To one of
two persons who stand in the same room gazing on the same picture in the
sunlight, the beauty of the landscape may be fully revealed, while to
the other, on account of a certain indirectness of position and view, it
appears only as an unpleasant dazzling glare. So, of two Jews who both
eagerly listened to Jesus, as he taught from the fishing-boat on the
Lake of Galilee, one found in the story the word of the kingdom,
refreshing as cold waters to a thirsty soul, while the other, hearing
the same words, perceived nothing in them but incoherent and tantalizing
enigmas. For the right comprehension of the parables in particular, as
of revealed truth in general, a receptive heart is a qualification even
more peremptorily and essentially necessary than a penetrating
understanding. "If any man is willing to do his will, he shall know of
the doctrine, whether it be of God" (John vii. 17).
Each of the parables contained some characteristic, or presented some
aspect of Christ's kingdom. His kingdom was not of this world, and
therefore it was intensely distasteful to the carnal Jews of that day.
The idea did not readily enter their mind; and when it did in some
measure penetrate, it kindled in their corrupt hearts a flame of
persecuting rage. It was necessary that the Lord should, during the
period of his personal ministry, fully develop and deposit the seed of
the kingdom; but it was necessary also that he should remain on earth
until the set time when his ministry as prophet should terminate in his
offering as priest. Now, if he had at any period displayed all the
characteristics of his kingdom in terms which the mob and their rulers
were able to comprehend, the persecution that ultimately crucified him,
would have burst prematurely forth, and so deranged the plan of the
Omniscient. It was necessary, for example, in order to provide
consolation for his own disciples in subsequent temptations, that the
Lord should predict his own death and resurrection; but this
prediction, when uttered in public, was veiled from hostile eyes under
the symbol, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up"
(John ii. 19). More generally, it was necessary that such features of
the kingdom as its spiritual character and its expansive power should be
made known to true disciples for their instruction and encouragement,
but hidden for a time from persecutors in order to restrain their
enmity. Parables served the twofold purpose. Tender, teachable spirits
caught the meaning at once; or, if they failed, they asked and obtained
an explanation from the Master in private; while those who had not the
single eye, were for the time left in darkness. It was their own
hardness that kept out the light; their own hardness was employed as the
instrument whereby judgment was inflicted upon themselves.[7]
[7] In Matthew (xiii. 13) he speaks in parables, "because ([Greek:
hoti]), they seeing, see not:" and in Mark (iv. 12), and Luke
(viii. 10), "that ([Greek: hina]) seeing they might not see." Two
different objects were effected at the same time, and by the same
act, corresponding to those two terms; it is true that the Lord
employed parables, as one employs pictures to teach a child,
_because_ his auditors were children in understanding; and it is
also true that he veiled his doctrines under metaphor _in order
that_ those who were children in understanding but in malice men,
might not perceive his drift, and so might not violently interfere
to suppress his ministry. Thus according to the explanation which he
gave at the moment, "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" (Matt. xiii. 12).
IV.--THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PARABLES.
Of the parables in particular, as of the Scriptures generally, it is
true that faith is necessary to the full appreciation of their meaning.
That you must understand the Scriptures in order to have faith, and have
faith in order to understand the Scriptures, is indeed, a circle; but
it is not a vicious circle. As you approach from without, you may
perceive that the Bible is the word of God, and that the Christ whom it
reveals is the Saviour of sinners; standing now on your new position,
and recognising your Instructor as also your Redeemer, you will discover
in his word a length, and breadth, and height, and depth, which were
formerly concealed. In our day, as well as when the parables were first
spoken, it is to his own disciples that their true meaning is made
known.
Another cognate requisite to the true spiritual comprehension of these
divine sayings, is sympathy with the view which Jesus took and gave of
human nature in its fallen state. He spoke and acted not only as the
Teacher of the ignorant, but also as the Saviour of the lost: if we do
not occupy the same stand-point, and look upon humanity in the same
light, we shall stumble at every step in our effort to comprehend what
the Speaker meant.
These two qualifications are supreme; and they apply alike to divine
revelation as a whole, and to each of its parts; there are others which
are important though subordinate, and which bear more specially on the
particular department of Scripture exegesis with which we are here
engaged, the Parables of the Lord.[8]
[8] The Parables of the Kingdom are, as it were, a picture gallery,
and we walk up and down it, examining each picture by itself. We
must not forget, however, that these are heavenly pictures that hang
around us,--that heavenly things are here exposed to view. A
heavenly interpreter walks by our side: we must have a heavenly
sense if we would grasp the meaning of what we hear and see. If our
study quicken this sense within us, so that it shall grow clearer
and sharper before every picture, a rich treat awaits us, for the
heavenly Gallery is great.--_Dräseke, vom Reich Gottes_, i., 270.
1. The faculty of perceiving and appreciating analogies. It is certainly
not necessary that an interpreter of Scripture should be a poet; but to
possess in some measure that eye for parallels which constitutes the
basis of the poetic faculty, is a most desirable qualification for one
who proposes to help his neighbours in the study of the parables. It is,
indeed, true that a man who possesses only a very small measure of this
or of other mental gifts, may read these lessons of the Lord with
spiritual profit to himself; but the pictorial theology of the New
Testament is not safe in the hands of a teacher who is signally
defective in the faculty to which it specially appeals. Learning, and
zeal, and faith combined may, in this department, expend much labour to
little purpose, for lack of power to perceive the point of the analogy.
But, on the other hand,
2. A stern logic is as necessary as a lively imagination. Deficient in
the analogical faculty, you cannot in this department go quickly
forward; but deficient in the logical faculty, you will go forward too
fast and too far. We need a well-spread, well-filled sail; but we need
also a helm to direct the ship in the path of safety. Restraining,
discriminating judgment, is as necessary as impulsive power. Every one
who possesses even a moderate acquaintance with the literature of this
department will, I am persuaded, acknowledge the justice of this
observation. Some expositors of the parables, especially in more ancient
times, remind one of the _Great Eastern_ in the Atlantic when her rudder
was disabled. There is plenty of impelling force, but this force, for
want of a director, only makes the ship go round and round in a
weltering sea. From the pages of those commentators, whose imaginations
have broken loose, you may cull fancies as manifold, as beautiful, and
as useless as the gyrations of a helmless ship in a stormy sea.