soul." Those ministering angels and providential laws, represented by
the drawers of the net in another parable, to whom the Supreme Governor
has committed the task of gathering gradually the generations of men
from this sea of time, and casting them for judgment on the borders of
eternity--those ministering spirits, and principles pervading nature,
arrive in their course this night at your door, and send the message
into the midst of the merry festival, The master of this house is wanted
immediately; he must arise and go, in obedience to the summons; he can
neither resist nor delay. He may weep, tremble, rage; but he must go,
and go on the instant. It is not the whole man, but only his soul that
is wanted: his body will be left behind. But the body, though left
behind, cannot claim, cannot use the goods. When the soul is summoned
over into eternity, it cannot carry the hoarded treasures with itself,
and the body left behind has no further use for them. A grave to rest in
while it returns to dust is all that the body needs or gets; and the
deserted wealth must advertise for an owner--whose shall it be?
Our Lord Jesus has spoken these piercing words, not for the sake of the
pain which they are fitted to inflict. He is the Healer[68] of diseased
humanity, and when he makes an incision he means to cure. This sharp
instrument, at whose glance we wince and shrink precisely in proportion
to the measure of our malady, he wields for the purpose of piercing
the deadly tumour, and so saving the threatened life. "A man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth"
(ver. 15); and the man who places his life therein, loses his life. That
is not his life; and if he take that for his life, he is cheated: when a
merchant has given all for what seemed a goodly pearl, he has not
another fortune in reserve wherewith to begin anew, if that for which he
paid all his possessions turns out to be a worthless toy of glass. Our
time, our life--this is our fortune, on which we trade for the better
world: if these be spent,--be thrown away for what is not life, then
life is lost.
[68] Der Heiland--the Healer--is the ordinary epithet applied to the
Lord Jesus in the religious phraseology of the Germans. The term is
suggestive and comforting.
Riches are truly enjoyed when they are wisely employed in doing good;
but hoarded as the portion of their possessor, they burden him while
they remain his, and rend him at the parting.
By way of contrast, the Lord mentions another kind of treasure, which
satisfies now, and lasts for ever. Those who are "rich toward God," are
rich indeed, and all besides are poor: and this wealth is, in Christ,
offered free,--offered to all.
Seeing that an evil spirit possessed this man, the Lord in mercy applied
his word to cast the evil spirit out, and make room for his own
indwelling. When the spirit of the world refuses to go out at his word,
he sometimes interferes as Ruler in providence, and tears out the
intruder by his mighty hand: the kingdom of heaven that is "within you"
also suffereth violence; and He who is most mighty comes sometimes with
merciful strokes to take it by force. "Even so: come, Lord Jesus."
XX.
THE BARREN FIG-TREE.
"There were present at that season some that told him of the Galileans,
whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus
answering said unto them, Suppose ye that these Galileans were
sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such things?
I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise
perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and
slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt
in Jerusalem? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all
likewise perish. He spake also this parable; A certain man had a
fig-tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and sought fruit
thereon, and found none. Then said he unto the dresser of his
vineyard, Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this
fig-tree, and find none: cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground?
And he answering said unto him, Lord, let it alone this year also,
till I shall dig about it, and dung it: and if it bear fruit, well:
and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down."--LUKE xiii. 1-9.
It is obvious that the massacre of the Galileans by Pilate was mentioned
on this occasion, not for its own sake, but for the purpose of
supporting a doctrine which the narrators held and desired to establish.
Their meaning is echoed distinctly in the answer of the Lord. These
Pharisees seem to have found grist for their own mill in all events and
all persons; everything was turned to the account of their own
self-righteousness. Peculiar sufferings seemed to prove peculiar guilt.
The logical consequence they did not express, and perhaps did not
distinctly frame even in thought; but they solaced themselves with it,
notwithstanding: they were not visited by such calamities, and therefore
it might be presumed they were not chargeable with such sins.
The Lord expressly denied the truth of their silent, hidden inference,
and fortified his teaching by reference to another analogous case,--the
sudden death of some men through the fall of a tower. Leaving untouched
the general doctrine that mankind suffer for sin, he clearly and
emphatically teaches, that particular calamities do not measure or prove
the particular guilt of those who suffer in them. Otherwise, it is
obvious that God's government begins and ends in this life; there is
neither the necessity nor the evidence of a judgment to come. He
indicated to the Jews that the sudden and unexpected destruction of
those sacrificing Galileans, was but an emblem of the sudden and
unexpected destruction that would overtake themselves if they were not
converted in time, and shielded in mercy from the judgment that sin
entailed. To repeat, expand, and enforce this lesson the parable is
spoken: "He spake _also_ this parable,"--the similitude is given in
addition to the more direct instruction which had gone before, and for
the same purpose.
"A certain man had a fig-tree planted in his vineyard." This was not a
seedling that had sprung accidentally within the fences of the vineyard,
and through carelessness been permitted to grow: the language is
precise, and indicates that the fig tree had been planted within the
vineyard by a deliberate act of the owner. The husbandman planted the
fig-tree that he might enjoy its fruit; and in order more effectually to
secure his object, he selected for the tree the most favourable
position. It is obvious both from the structure and design of the
parable that the position of the fig-tree was the best that it could
possibly have obtained.
In countries where the vine is cultivated, not by a few wealthy
proprietors with a view to an export trade, but by each family on a
small scale with a view to the food of the household, to plant some
fruit trees of other kinds within the same enclosure is the rule rather
than the exception. The vineyard is not the luxury of the few, but a
common necessity of life with the many. It becomes the most cherished
possession of the permanent rural population. Its aspect is sunward, its
soil is good, its fences are in order. Within this favoured spot the
owner is willing to make room for one or more fig-trees, for the sake of
the fruit which in such favourable circumstances he expects them to
bear.[69]
[69] In the valley of the Rhine where the vine is cultivated as the
material of a great manufacture, and the staple of a foreign trade,
fruit trees of other species are not admitted within the vineyard;
but at Botzen in the Tyrol, where the habits of society are more
simple and primitive, I have repeatedly seen fig-trees growing
within the lofty wall of the carefully cultured vineyard, rewarding
the possessor for his care with abundant fruit.
When the tree had reached maturity the owner expected that it should
bear fruit; but that year, the next, and a third it continued barren.
Having waited a reasonable time, he gave orders that it should be
destroyed; since it produced nothing, he desired to utilize in another
way the portion of ground which it occupied.
The dresser of the vineyard is a person who has the entire charge,
subject to the general instructions of the proprietor. He has long
occupied this position, and is acquainted with the fig-tree from its
infancy; he knows it, as a shepherd in a similarly primitive state of
society knows his sheep. He has formed for it a species of attachment;
and a sentiment akin to compassion springs up in his heart, when he
hears its sentence pronounced. "Woodman, spare that tree," is a species
of intercession thoroughly natural and human.
The intercession of the dresser, however, is not sentiment merely; it
is sentiment completely directed and controlled by just reason. He does
not plead for the indefinite prolongation of a useless existence. He
asks only another year of trial: he intends and promises to take in the
interval the most energetic measures for stimulating the barren tree
into fruitfulness. If under these appliances it bear fruit, he knows the
owner will gladly permit it to retain its place; if not, he will abandon
it to the fate which it deserves and invites.
No peculiar difficulty attends the exposition of this parable: the main
features of its meaning are so distinctly marked, that it is hardly
possible to miss them. The lesson is easily read; and when read, it is
unspeakably solemn and tender.
God is the owner of the vineyard and the fig-tree within its walls.
Abraham's seed, natural and mystical, are the fig-tree; and the Mediator
between God and man is the Dresser of the vineyard, the intercessor for
the barren tree. These points are all so obvious that there can hardly
be any difference of opinion regarding them. One point remains,
demanding some explanation indeed, but presenting very little
difficulty,--the vineyard. The fig-tree was planted within the vineyard,
and what is the doctrine indicated by this circumstance in the material
frame of the parable? The suggestion that the vineyard means the world,
in the midst of which Israel were planted, although supported by some
honoured names, does not merit much consideration. In no sense is there
any likeness between the vineyard and the world. The essential
circumstances involved in the fact that the fig-tree grew within the
vineyard are, that in soil, south exposure, care and defence, it was
placed in the best possible position for bearing fruit. The one fact
that it was planted in the vineyard indicates, and was obviously
intended to indicate, that the owner had done the best for his fig-tree.
The meaning is precisely the same as that which is more fully expressed
in the analogous parable: "Now will I sing to my well-beloved a song of
my beloved touching his vineyard," &c. (Isa. v. 1-7). In the prophet's
allegory, while in general the vineyard represents the house of Israel,
the vine trees more specifically represent the people, and south
exposure, soil, care, and defence, represent the peculiar providence and
grace of God displayed in their history and institutions. "The
vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of
Judah his pleasant plant" (ver. 7); the plants represent the men, and
all that the proprietor did in their behalf represents the goodness of
God to Israel in redeeming them from bondage and giving them his
covenant. On the same principle in our parable the fig-tree represents
the people who were favoured, and the advantages of the vineyard
represent the privileges which the people enjoyed. The intimation that
this barren fig-tree grew within a vineyard, is a short method of
informing us that it enjoyed a position on a very fruitful hill, and was
there fenced, watched, and watered with the most patient care. Now,
obviously, none of these things, in their spiritual signification, were
enjoyed by Israel simply in virtue of their existence in this world. The
Egyptians, the Babylonians, and the Persians were placed in the world
too, and yet they enjoyed no peculiar privileges,--could not be compared
to a vineyard on a very fruitful hill. This feature of the parable, so
far from merely intimating that Israel were placed in the world, teaches
us that they were separated from it; they were protected by special
providences in their history, and cherished by the ordinances of grace.
The place of the fig-tree within the vineyard indicates that the people
to whom God looked in vain for the fruits of righteousness, were
distinguished from the nations by the peculiar religious privileges
which they enjoyed: the favourable circumstances of the tree aggravated
the guilt of its barrenness.
Three successive years the owner came seeking fruit on this fig-tree,
and found none. In regard to the specified period of three years, I do
not think we gain much by a particular reference to the well-known
natural process by which the fig develops simultaneously the fruit of
this season and the germs of the next; for we do not know in this case
whether the germs were never formed, or fell off before they reached
maturity. I am not able to perceive that the number three has any
necessary reference to the peculiarities of the fig; I think the same
number would have been employed for the purposes of the spiritual
lesson, although a fruit tree of another species had been taken as an
example. Three years was a reasonable period for the owner to wait, that
he might neither on the one hand rashly cut down a tree that might soon
have become profitable, nor on the other permit a hopelessly barren tree
indefinitely to occupy a position which might otherwise be turned to
good account.
While the lesson of the parable bears upon the Church at large, both in
ancient and modern times, it is to individuals that it can be most
safely and most profitably applied. Most certainly we enjoy at this day
the advantages set forth under the figure of the favoured fig-tree.
Besides the life and faculties which we possess in common with others,
we have spiritual privileges which are peculiar to ourselves. Civil and
religious liberty, the Scriptures, the Sabbath, the Church, place us in
the position of the fig-tree within the vineyard, while other nations
are more or less like a tree rooted in the sand, or exposed on the
wayside. The God in whom we live has conferred these advantages upon us,
that we might bear fruit unto holiness; and if we remain barren,
notwithstanding all his kindness, he will give forth the decree to cut
us down. In some he finds bad fruit, and in some no fruit, and even in
the best, little fruit. He has not cast out the unfruitful, but has
tenderly spared them.
As the fig-tree greedily drank in the riches of earth and air, and
wasted all in leaves, so the unconverted in a land of Christian light
enjoy God's goodness and employ it in ministering only to their own
pleasures. The line of justice, stretched to the utmost,--to the utmost
and more, snaps asunder at last: the sentence goes forth, Cut the barren
tree down, and cast it out. This is the doom which guilt deserves and
justice proclaims: if the sinful were under a government of mere
righteousness, it would be inexorably executed upon all.
Here is the turning point: here an intercessor appears,--an Intercessor
who cares for man and prevails with God. The first part of his plea is,
Spare: he appeals for a respite of definite and limited duration,--one
year: less would not afford an opportunity for amendment, and more would
in the circumstances confer a bounty on idleness. All who have under the
Gospel reached the age of understanding, and are still living without
God in the world, enjoy the present respite in virtue of Christ's
compassionate intercession. If that Mediator had never taken up the
case, or should now abandon it, the sentence already pronounced would
descend like the laws of nature and inexorably execute itself. It is
Christ's intercession alone, that stands between the unpardoned on
earth, and the punishment which is their due.[70]
[70] I cannot see any force in the argument by which Stier
endeavours to show that the interceding vine-dresser represents
primarily the human ministry in the Church.
But the Intercessor does more than secure for the sinful a space for
repentance: He who obtains the respite takes means to render it
effectual. The two chief applications employed in husbandry to stimulate
growth and fruitfulness are digging and manuring: these accordingly the
dresser of the vineyard undertakes to apply in the interval to the
barren fig-tree. I think something may be gained here by descending into
the particulars. One of these agricultural operations imparts to the
tree the elements of fruitfulness, and the other enables the tree to
make these elements its own. Digging gives nothing to the tree; but it
makes openings whereby gifts from another quarter may become practically
available. The manure contains the food which the plant must receive,
and assimilate, and convert into fruit; but if the hardened earth were
not made loose by digging, the needed aliment would never reach its
destination.
Similar processes are applied in the spiritual culture: certain diggings
take place around and among the roots of barren souls, as well as of
barren fig-trees. Bereavements and trials of various kinds strike and
rend; but these cannot by themselves renew and sanctify. They may give
pain, but cannot impart fertility: the spirit much distressed may be as
unfruitful as the spirits that are at ease in Zion. These rendings,
however, are most precious as the means of opening a way whereby the
elements of spiritual life conveyed by the word and the Spirit may reach
their destination. The Lord who pours in the food for the sustenance of
a soul, stirs that soul by his providence, so that grace may reach the
root and be taken in. As the constituents of fruit, held in solution by
air and water, cannot freely reach the plant whose roots lie under a
long unbroken and indurated soil, so the grace of God contained in the
preached Gospel is kept at bay by a carnal mind and a seared conscience.
It is when afflictions rend the heart, as a ploughshare tears up the
ground, that the elements of life long offered are at length received.
It is thus that providence and grace conspire to achieve the purpose of
God in the salvation of men. In this work mercy and judgment meet; and
saved sinners, on earth and in heaven, put both together in their song
of praise (Ps. ci. 1.)
But a feature appears in the close, well fitted to arouse those who have
hitherto presumed upon impunity and neglected Christ. Even this kind
Intercessor does not propose that the unfruitful tree should be allowed
indefinitely to maintain its place without changing its character: He
spontaneously concedes that if this trial prove ineffectual, justice
must take its course; "After that thou shalt cut it down." When Jesus
lets a sinner go, who shall take him up? But there is love even in this
last stern word. Love intercedes for a time of trial,--an opportunity of
turning; and love, too, after securing sufficient opportunity, lets go
its hold and leaves all hopeless beyond. It is the terrible concession,
"thou shalt cut it down," issuing from the Intercessor's lips, that
gives power to the invitation, "Now is the accepted time." To warn me
now that if I let the day of grace run waste, even Jesus on the morrow
of the judgment will not plead for me any more, is surely the most
effectual means of urging me to close with his offer to-day.
XXI.
THE EXCUSES.
"Then said he unto him, A certain man made a great supper, and bade
many: and sent his servant at supper time to say to them that were
bidden, Come; for all things are now ready. And they all with one
consent began to make excuse. The first said unto him, I have bought
a piece of ground, and I must needs go and see it: I pray thee have
me excused. And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I
go to prove them: I pray thee have me excused. And another said, I
have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. So that servant
came, and showed his lord these things. Then the master of the house
being angry said to his servant, Go out quickly into the streets and
lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor, and the maimed, and
the halt, and the blind. And the servant said, Lord, it is done as
thou hast commanded, and yet there is room. And the lord said unto
the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to
come in, that my house may be filled. For I say unto you, That none
of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper."--LUKE xiv.
16-24.
A chain of connected lessons, consisting of several links, immediately
precedes the parable in the evangelic history; but we may appreciate all
the meaning of the parable without reference to the circumstances in
which it sprung. In some cases the connection with the context is such
that light from the history preceding is necessary to elucidate the
meaning of the lesson that follows; but it is not so here. Although one
thing suggests another in the conversation which the Evangelist records,
the lesson ultimately given is independent of the things that suggested
it.
Touched by the solemn teaching of the Lord Jesus, one of the company,
well-meaning, but dim and confused in his conceptions, made the remark,
"Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God." Observing
that this man and the Pharisees around him were clinging to the notion
that to be invited to enter the kingdom is the same thing as to be in
it, he spoke the parable to point out the difference, and to show that
the invitation will only aggravate the doom of those who refuse to
comply with it. He intends to teach the Jews, and through them to teach
us, that those who are near the kingdom may in the end come short of
it--that those who stand high in spiritual privileges may be
excluded--may exclude themselves from the kingdom of God.
Both in the natural objects employed, and the spiritual lessons which
they convey, there is, at some points, a marked resemblance between this
parable and that of the royal marriage; but the two, though similar, are
manifestly distinct.
"A certain man made a great supper and bade many." In this case it is
not a king but a person in a private station who provides the feast; and
the occasion of the rejoicing is not the marriage of the entertainer's
son. It is an ordinary example of hospitality exercised by an affluent
citizen.
Both here and in the analogous parable of the royal marriage it is
assumed, as at least not altogether incongruous with custom, that
invitations should be issued some days before, and that the invited
guests should a second time be warned by a messenger to repair to the
banqueting house when the time drew near. This summons to attend
immediately was sent out at supper time. We know that the term [Greek:
deipnon] was in ancient times employed generally to signify the
principal meal, without reference to a particular period of the day;
and, from the circumstances of this case, it plainly appears that the
feast was a dinner at an early hour, and not a supper in our sense of
the word. At the moment when the warning reached him, the man who had
bought a field intended to go and see it, and the man who had bought
five yoke of oxen intended on that same afternoon to try whether they
would go well in harness; these excuses, although not sincere, must in
the nature of the case have appeared plausible, and consequently the
feast must have been ready at an early hour of the day.
It is implied that these men had tacitly, or in some other
well-understood way, accepted the first invitation. They gave no
intimation that they intended to decline--they gave the provider of the
feast reason to expect their presence. Probably they were well pleased
to be invited; if they met any of their poorer neighbours in the
interval, it is probable they would take occasion to show their own
importance. These common people in the town, and these labourers in the
country, are not admitted as we are into good society. When the moment
arrived they were unwilling; or rather they were so intently occupied
with their own affairs, that the attractions of the feast were not
powerful enough to tear them away.