have ever been hidden by human hands are frequently discovered under the
earth, and wealth correspondingly great obtained by purchasing the field
in which they lie. The much disputed and now celebrated mineral at
Torbanehill, near Bathgate, in the county of Linlithgow, affords a good
example. A person discovered that a coal or other mineral substance of
great value lay in the ground. Without revealing, perhaps not knowing to
the full extent the value of his discovery, he forthwith concluded, not
precisely a purchase, but a long lease of the ground for mining
purposes. When his bargain was securely made, he began to bring up the
precious substance. As a raw material for the manufacture of gas and
oil, it was found precious beyond all precedent. The original proprietor
then raised an action for the dissolution of the lease. The action has
been several times renewed in various forms, and its fame has resounded
through all Europe. Meantime the prudent discoverer of the treasure and
purchaser of the field is reaping a rich harvest from his transaction.
In North America, both in the States and in Canada, similar facts have
often of late years emerged, especially in connection with oil springs
and copper mines. Some men have obtained enormous wealth by purchasing
for a small price a piece of ground in which a seam of copper lay, and
selling it again when the fact was verified.
A question has been raised and discussed at greater length, I think,
than its importance warrants, regarding the conduct of the man who found
the treasure and hid it again till he had secured the field--whether the
act was fair or unfair. The parables of the Lord are allowed to flow
like a mountain stream in its natural channel. In those at least that
are metaphorical, the narrative does not undertake to prescribe what
should be, but to represent what is probable in human history. The fact
as narrated may or may not be an example worthy of imitation.[21] The
moral lesson is found, not by looking directly at the story, but by
looking at the shadow which the material case projects on the spiritual
sphere. The conduct of the person in the picture may be good, bad, or
indifferent; the spiritual lesson is not affected by the moral character
of the act which is employed as a leaden type to make it visible. As the
lesson on a printed page is not affected by the baseness or the pureness
of the metal which constituted the type, provided always that the form
of the type were appropriate; so the doctrine left for us after the
parabolic picture has passed is not dependent for its purity on the
material of which the type was formed. The shifty dishonest factor, and
the indolent unrighteous judge of subsequent parables, occur as
conspicuous examples.
[21] It is otherwise, of course, in those that are directly moral,
as the Good Samaritan; they are not metaphors to be translated, but
examples to be imitated.
The picture is obviously true to nature. When a man became aware that a
great treasure lay under ground at a certain spot, he concealed his
knowledge of the fact, and took measures to obtain possession of the
field. Believing that this hidden wealth was greater far than all that
he possessed in the world, or could ever hope to acquire by the ordinary
produce of his property, he sold all that he had without a grudge, in
order to make sure of the prize. The love of his own possessions,
whether hereditary or acquired, whether lands or money, was overbalanced
and so destroyed by the estimate which he had formed of the hidden
treasure. The new and stronger affection neutralized and blotted out all
previous predilections for what was his own. He sold all that he had,
and bought the field. The turning-point is here; and here, accordingly,
the story is abruptly broken off. There is not a word regarding the
subsequent steps of the important and critical transaction. How much he
gained by his bargain; whether the validity of the purchase was disputed
in a court of justice by the former proprietor, on the ground of a
concealment of facts by the buyer;--these and all similar points are
designedly veiled off. If they had been introduced, they would have
served only to lead the investigator into a wrong track, and the meaning
of the Master would thereby have been lost. The story advances in broad
and manifest accordance with nature, both in its main line and in its
subordinate accessories, until it has reached and passed the point which
marked its goal: then the curtain suddenly drops, resolutely concealing
all the rest, and so compelling the reader to fix his regard on the
great essential lesson, instead of dissipating his energies on a
multitude of interesting but unnecessary speculations.
Such is the material framework which sustains the spiritual truth,--such
the trellis which bears up the fruitful vine: having first gone round it
to survey its construction and its form, we now approach it to gather
for our own use the ripe fruit that hangs within reach on every side.
1. There is a treasure, placed within our reach in this, world, rich
beyond all comparison or conception,--a treasure incorruptible and
undefiled and unfading. "God is love,"--behold the fountain-head, where
an exhaustless supply is stored: in the Gospel of Christ a channel has
been opened through which streams from that fountain flow down to this
distant world. In the Son of God incarnate divine mercy reaches our
nature, and supplies our wants. Through the ministry of the Spirit, in
the earliest promise and in subsequent prophecy the refreshing water was
brought into contact with parched lips. A heavenly treasure lies on this
poverty-stricken, bankrupt, accursed world, sufficient to enrich every
one of its poor and miserable and wretched and blind and naked
inhabitants.
2. The treasure is hidden. In early ages it was concealed under certain
veils, constructed of design in such a manner that through their
half-transparent folds a halo of the unseen glory should excite the
hopes and attract the steps of every generation. The promise given at
the gate of Paradise contained the treasure, but contained it wrapped up
in allegoric prophecy which nothing but subsequent fulfilment could
completely unfold. Down through the patriarchal and prophetic ages it
continued a hidden treasure, although the new life of the faithful was
secretly sustained by it all the while. Even when Christ through these
parables taught his disciples in Galilee, his kingdom was still hidden.
A few fishermen, and here and there a ruler, had discovered the precious
deposit, and had drawn from it enough to enrich themselves for ever; but
to the multitude it was still unknown. Under the form of a man--under
the privacy and poverty of a Nazarene, was the fulness of the Godhead
hid that day from the wise and prudent of the world. The light was near
them, and yet they did not see; the riches of divine grace were brought
to their door, and yet they continued poor and miserable.
But even after the Lord had fully declared his mission, and finished his
work,--after he had died for our sin, and risen again for our
justification,--after his disciples through the ministry of the Spirit
had published the glad tidings in many lands,--the treasure still lay
hidden. It was near, and yet out of sight. Those who find it, find out
at the same time that they have been almost treading on it for years,
and yet ignorant of its existence and its worth. Saul of Tarsus had been
often near it, before he found it for himself. When Gamaliel lectured on
the Mosaic sacrifices, the attentive, clear-headed and ardent pupil, was
on the very point of discovering where the treasure lay; but though
often near it, he never fell on it until that day when he fell to the
ground near Damascus. Felix was near it when, shut in between his own
sin and God's righteousness, he trembled at the sight of the
judgment-seat, like an angel with a drawn sword right before him on the
narrow path. Agrippa was near it when, caught and carried away ere he
was well aware by the close, clear reasoning of a true preacher, he was
almost persuaded to be a Christian. Still men may be walking near the
treasure of eternal life,--walking over it, and yet miss it: the
treasure that they trod upon remains hidden, and they remain poor.
3. The hidden treasure is at last found. It is noticed by all students
of the parables, that on this point there is a marked distinction
between the experience of the man who found the hidden treasure, and
that of the merchant who found the pearl of great price. It is probable
that this man was not aware that there was any treasure in that field:
he seems to have been neither looking for it nor expecting to find it.
He was probably employed in some other work, and prosecuting some other
object. He may have been a labourer toiling there for his daily bread;
or he may have been engaged in making a road or digging for the
foundation of a house, when the treasure, concealed in a troubled time,
was exposed to view. He found what he was not seeking: he was seeking a
bit of bread, and stumbled upon a fortune. The merchant, on the
contrary, who fell in with the precious pearl was travelling with the
express purpose of discovering goodly pearls and buying them. He
obtained what he was seeking; but obtained a pearl of greater value than
he had previously seen, or expected ever to see.
Outwardly at least, and on the surface, a similar distinction seems to
obtain between one man's experience and another's, in regard to the
manner of finding the treasures of divine grace. Some seem to find the
Saviour when they are not seeking him; and some, after deliberately and
consciously seeking him long, are rewarded at length. It is the former
of the two classes with whom we are more directly concerned in the
exposition of this parable. Looking abroad upon the past history or the
present experience of the Church, we observe that some suddenly
stumble, as it were, upon salvation, when they neither expected nor
desired to find it. Not a few have come to laugh, and remained to pray.
Many authentic cases are recorded of persons who entered the house of
God bent on making sport of the preacher, and who went away believing in
the Saviour whom he preached. A youth has left his home in the country
and plunged into a great capital to push his fortune, and has found
there, what he did not seek, pardon of sin and peace with God through
the Saviour. Another has gone to India as a soldier, dreaming of war and
victory, and honour and wealth; but has returned a meek disciple of
Jesus, glory to God and peace with men radiating like sunlight from all
his spirit and all his life. A young female, chafed and fretting under
the enforced dulness of a sober home, has received and accepted an
invitation which promises to set her free from restraint for a time, and
permit her to flutter at will in the midst of a fashionable throng. At
the threshold of the prepared festivities a message meets her,--a
message charged with a mighty sorrow, which drives the crowd of joyful
anticipations forth from her heart, as a swollen stream bears down the
dry leaves of autumn. She is thrown aside in solitude, in emptiness, in
agony. In the silent night, and in the aching emptiness of her soul, the
knocking of Christ from without is for the first time heard. The weary
heart opens at last, and lets the Stranger in. She has found a treasure
which, though often near her before, had hitherto escaped her notice.
From the peace of God in which she now dwells she looks out from time to
time on the pleasures of sin which she formerly chased, and borrows from
the experience of ancient Israel a phrase best fitted to express her
mind,--"The Portion of Jacob is not like them."
The history of the Church is studded with such examples: the hearts of
believers, when they are ready to faint, are cheered from time to time
by such good news from countries far and near. It is a reproof to us,
but a glory to the Lord, that he is often found of those who sought not
after him. Perhaps the man in the parable was digging for stones when he
fell upon the treasure: they who find the true riches meet often with a
similar surprise.
4. The next feature that claims attention is the instant ardent effort
of the discoverer to make the treasure his own, now that he knows what
it is and where it lies.
In the parable, the man conceals his discovery, because he knows that if
the secret leak out, the owner will not part with his field at any
price. One can easily imagine the scene and the act that enlivened it. A
labouring man, digging for some purpose in a field alone, in the
progress of his hard and humble work lays open one side of a glittering
golden store. As soon as the first tumult of emotion has subsided, he
gathers his wits and goes into action. First of all he throws some earth
over the exposed portion of the treasure; then he looks cautiously round
to ascertain whether any witness was near enough to observe his motions.
He proceeds next, probably, to ply his ordinary task on another spot
with an indifferent air, that he may not attract attention. The place
where the treasure lies, the place that he loves best, he carefully
avoids: he comes not once near it again until he has paid the price, and
secured the titles of the property.
Too much has been made of the subordinate circumstances here. A person
in the position of this man could not do otherwise than he did, without
abandoning all hope of obtaining the prize. To blab it out, would have
been to throw it away. If he had talked about it, the fact would have
proved that he did not care for it. The concealment is not an essential
feature, but a subordinate circumstance of the parable. It was resorted
to, not for its own sake, but as an obvious means of obtaining a desired
end. The hiding of the treasure is introduced into the picture simply to
mark the man's estimate of its worth and his determination at all
hazards to obtain it.
In the spiritual department a similar end is pursued, but the adoption
of similar means there would not tend to insure success. In the nature
of the case it is not necessary to conceal the spiritual treasure from
others in order to secure it for yourself. Although the world should
discover it, by an intimation from you, and enrich themselves out of it,
you would not therefore obtain less. It is thus a vain labour to search,
as many do, for something in the spiritual sphere corresponding to the
concealment by the discoverer in the story. The best way of interpreting
that feature is to represent by it a soul's high appreciation of divine
mercy and earnest desire to obtain it, and then allow the feature to
drop out of sight, like the husk after the ripened grain has fallen from
it and been secured. It has been said that one of the rarest kinds of
knowledge is to know when to hold your peace. Many know well how to
speak; few know when to be silent. A similar experience emerges here:
many have an excellent faculty for opening up the parables, and tracing
every feature up to all its springs, and down to all its consequences.
The power of attributing a distinct spiritual import to every light and
shadow of the picture is common; but the faculty of permitting a
subordinate accessory to drop when it has fulfilled its office, and
following stanchly on the main track, is comparatively rare.
You may, indeed, find instances in which a man, awakened and persuaded
of the preciousness of Christ, has kept all silent within his own breast
until he has made his own calling and election sure; but in these cases
the secrecy is by no means prompted by a fear that to publish the secret
were to lose the treasure; and in many other examples the discoverer,
during the continuance of his efforts to obtain possession, publishes
the secret to the world, and enters at last into his heritage in
presence of many witnesses. The discoverer of Christ's preciousness is
like the discoverer of hid treasure, in his ultimate aim, but not in his
mediate methods. Concealment would not help him to possession, and
therefore he does not uniformly or necessarily take pains to conceal.
5. He parts with all in order that he may acquire the treasure. This is
the turning-point of the parable, and the turning-point too of that
which the parable represents,--the conversion of sinners,--the saving of
the lost. The picture, being framed of earthly materials, fails on one
point to represent the idea of the Lord. When the man had converted all
his property into money, and offered the net proceeds for the field, his
offer was accepted as adequate, and the property was conveyed to him in
return for value received. The transaction which takes place in
redemption between a sinful man and God his Saviour is essentially
different. Although it is true on the one side that in accepting pardon
we must and do surrender all to Christ, pardon is, notwithstanding,
bestowed as a free gift. Our self-surrender does not in any sense or
measure give to God an equivalent for that which in the covenant he
bestows on his own. The same two things occur, indeed, in the natural
and in the spiritual spheres, but they occur in the reverse order. The
price which the buyer offers induces the possessor to give him the
property; on the contrary, on the spiritual side it is the free gift of
the treasure by the Proprietor that induces the receiver to part with
all that he has to the Giver. In one aspect the acquisition of the
treasure which enriches a soul is a purchase which a needy man makes by
the surrender of all that he has, and in another aspect it is a free
gift bestowed by God for Christ's sake upon him who had nothing to give
in return. In as far forth as it is a purchase which a sinner makes,
this parable represents its nature; but in as far forth as it is a gift
given on the one side and accepted on the other, this parable is silent.
It contains no feature capable of presenting salvation in that point of
view.
6. Mark, now in the close yet another specific feature of the material
fact which has its counterpart in full on the spiritual side. It is
intimated that when the man had discovered the treasure, "for joy
thereof" he went and sold all, in order to buy the field that contained
it. This "joy" is an essential element in the case. If it is wanting the
business will at some stage certainly miscarry, the transaction will
never be completed. One love in a human heart cannot be overcome and
destroyed except by another. Love, among the affections of our nature,
is one of those high born nobles who refuse to be tried or superseded
except by their peers. Love of the world will not yield to fear, even
though the fear be a fear of God's anger. You cannot overcome and cast
it out until you bring against it another and greater love.
A man has joy in his possession, and lives without God in the world: he
is a god unto himself. He cannot and will not surrender his joy, such as
it is, to any summons except to that which a greater joy sends in. When
the preciousness of peace with God through the blood of Christ is
revealed to him, the "joy thereof" becomes so great that all his gold
becomes dross, and all his fine gold dim in his own esteem. This new joy
is so weighty that it tosses up the scale in which all his former
delights lay, as if they were only the small dust of the balance.
A young rich man came running once to Jesus, as the owner of the field
that contained the treasure of eternal life, and entered gravely into
terms for the purchase. He would give so much for it, but the owner held
it high: "All that thou hast," this is the price, and there is no
abatement. The young man did not close with that offer, and did not
complete the transaction. He went away; but what was the state of his
mind as he departed? "He went away sorrowful." Ah! the secret is out.
Although he desired, in some sense, to obtain what he called eternal
life, the "joy thereof" had not been kindled in his cold, calculating
heart. His love of earthly riches was too strong to yield to the
suggestions of prudence, or the fear of a future judgment. The love of
the old portion will yield to nothing but love of the new; and love of
the new he had never felt.
The case of Paul supplies an exact contrast. A learned Pharisee,
conscious of a power that would one day place the highest dignities at
his disposal, he was a man of great and manifold possessions. A curious
and interesting inventory of his goods has been preserved like a fossil
in the Scriptures (Phil. iii. 5, 6). These things he highly valued and
fondly loved; but another and opposing love came against them, and the
strong man succumbed to the stronger. "What things were gain to me,
these I counted loss for Christ:" he parted with all and purchased the
newly discovered treasure; but it was "for joy thereof." He went into
the transaction not driven by dread, but drawn by the expectation of a
greater joy.
It is thus that men buy an incorruptible treasure; it is thus that men
win Christ. They deceive themselves who try how cheaply they may get to
heaven,--how much of their idol they may retain and yet be safe in the
judgment. The man who was "sorrowful" when the two portions were set
before him for his choice, "went away." As long as peace with God in his
Son, labelled with its price, "All that you have," makes us sorry that
the boon is held so dear, we will never obtain the boon: when the sight
of it, price and all, sends a flash of more than earthly joy into the
soul, then we shall bound forward, leaving all behind, and win Christ.
VI.
THE PEARL.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking
goodly pearls: who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went
and sold all that he had, and bought it."--MATT. xiii. 45, 46.
So closely allied are these two parables, that if we had regarded
repetition as a formidable blemish in our lessons, we would not have
proposed to expound them separately and successively. The two lines are
coincident throughout their whole length, except at one point; but there
the diversity is broadly marked, amounting in one aspect to a specific
contrast. In view of this difference on the one hand, and of the example
of the Lord on the other, I think it right to open and apply the parable
of the pearl as fully as if the parable of the hidden treasure had not
gone before it. We need and get not only different pictures of the same
objects, but also the same pictures repeated in different colours and on
different grounds. One eye may be more touched and taken by this colour,
and another by that, although the outline of the objects be in both
cases essentially the same. Thus, the conception of a treasure found may
convey the meaning more impressively to one mind, and the conception of
a pearl purchased may convey it more impressively to another; and so,
although the lesson of the second parable had been more nearly identical
with that of the first than it is, it would not have been expedient to
dismiss it with a cursory notice. By a full examination of the principle
under the picture of a precious pearl, we shall obtain the advantage
which in moral questions, as in material operations, is often
unspeakably great, of a second stroke on the same spot. The usefulness,
and even the necessity of this method is acknowledged by all teachers,
in whatever department they may be called to exercise their office. The
same reasons, moreover, which induced the Master to reduplicate his
lesson demands that we should also reduplicate ours: it is our part both
in matter and in method to follow his steps.
Pearls seem to have borne a higher value in ancient times than they bear
now, both absolutely and in comparison with other kinds of jewels.
Romantic ideas prevailed regarding their origin and their nature; but it
is well worthy of remark that the parable passes in silence all that was
false or fanciful in the ideas of the ancients regarding the production
and the medicinal virtue of pearls. There is not a word about their
origin in a drop of dew, or the colour imparted to them by the
brightness or darkness of the heavens at the moment of their conception:
the only circumstance regarding the pearl which the Lord employs in his
instructions is its high price. He seizes the obvious and universally
known fact, taking no notice of the fanciful theories with which it was
connected.