The Interest of his Biography.
"John, than which man a sadder or a greater
Not till this day has been of woman born;
John, like some iron peak by the Creator
Fired with the red glow of the rushing morn.
"This, when the sun shall rise and overcome it,
Stands in his shining, desolate and bare;
Yet not the less the inexorable summit
Flamed him his signal to the happier air."
F. W. H. MYERS.
John and Jesus--Contemporary History--Anticipation of the Advent.
The morning star, shining amid the brightening glow of dawn, is the
fittest emblem that Nature can supply of the herald who proclaimed the
rising of the Sun of Righteousness--answering across the gulf of three
hundred years to his brother prophet, Malachi, who had foretold that
Sunrise and the healing in His wings.
Every sign attests the unique and singular glory of the Baptist. Not
that his career was signalized by the blaze of prodigy and wonder, like
the multiplication of the widow's meal or the descent of the fire of
heaven to consume the altar and the wood; for it is expressly said that
"John did no miracle." Not that he owed anything to the adventitious
circumstances of wealth and rank; for he was not a place-loving
courtier, "clothed in soft raiment or found in kings' courts." Not
that he was a master of a superb eloquence like that of Isaiah or
Ezekiel; for he was content to be only "a cry"--short, thrilling,
piercing through the darkness, ringing over the desert plains. Yet,
his Master said of him that "among them that are born of women there
hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist"; and in six brief
months, as one has noticed, the young prophet of the wilderness had
become the centre to which all the land went forth. We see Pharisees
and Sadducees, soldiers and publicans, enthralled by his ministry; the
Sanhedrim forced to investigate his claims; the petty potentates of
Palestine caused to tremble on their thrones; while he has left a name
and an influence that will never cease out of the world.
But there is a further feature which arrests us in the life and
ministry of the Baptist. He was ordained to be "the clasp" of two
covenants. In him Judaism reached its highest embodiment, and the Old
Testament found its noblest exponent. It is significant, therefore,
that through his lips the law and the prophets should announce their
transitional purpose, and that he who caught up the torch of Hebrew
prophecy with a grasp and spirit unrivalled by any before him, should
have it in his power and in his heart to say: "The object of all
prophecy, the purpose of the Mosaic law, the end of all sacrifices, the
desire of all nations, is at hand." And forthwith turning to the True
Shepherd, who stood at the door waiting to be admitted, to Him the
porter opened, bowing low as He passed, and crying: "This is He of whom
Moses in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, who was
for to come."
Few studies can bring out to clearer demonstration the superlative
glory of Christ than a thoughtful consideration of the story of the
forerunner. They were born at the same time; were surrounded from
their birth by similar circumstances; drank in from their earliest days
the same patriotic aspirations, the same sacred traditions, the same
glowing hopes. But the parallel soon stops. John the Baptist is
certainly a grand embodiment of the noblest characteristics of the
Jewish people. We see in him a conspicuous example of what could be
developed out of eight hundred years of Divine revelation and
discipline. But Jesus is the Son of Man: there is a width, a breadth,
a universality about Him which cannot be accounted for save on the
hypothesis which John himself declared, that "He who cometh from above
is above all."
In each case, life was strenuous and short--an epoch being inaugurated,
in the one case in about six months, in the other some three years. In
each case, at first, there was abounding enthusiasm, bursting forth
around their persons as they announced the Kingdom of God, like the
flowers which carpet their own fair land after the rains; but side by
side the unconcealed hatred of the religious world of their time. In
each case, the brief sunny hours of service were soon succeeded by the
rolling up of the thunderous clouds, and these by the murderous tempest
of deadly hatred, even unto death: "Their dead bodies lay in the street
of the great city, which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt." In
each case, there was a little handful of detached disciples, who
bitterly mourned their master's death, and took up the desecrated
corpse to lay it in the tomb; whilst they that dwelt in the earth
rejoiced and made merry, and sent gifts to one another, because they
had been tormented by their words (Rev. xi. 10).
But there the parallel ends. The life purpose of the one culminated in
his death; with the other, it only began. In the case of John, death
was a martyrdom, which shines brilliantly amid the murky darkness of
his time; in the case of Jesus, death was a sacrifice which put away
the sin of the world. For John there was no immediate resurrection,
save that which all good men have of their words and influence; but his
Master saw no corruption--it was not possible for Him to be holden by
it--and in his resurrection He commenced to wield his wide and mighty
supremacy over human hearts and wills. When the axe of Herod's
executioner had done its deadly work in the dungeons of Machaerus, the
bond which knit the disciples of John was severed also, and they were
absorbed in the followers of Christ; but when the Roman soldiers
thought their work was done, and the cry "It is finished!" had escaped
the parched lips of the dying Lord, his disciples held together in the
upper room, and continued there for more than forty days, until the
descent of the Holy Spirit formed them into the strongest organization
that this world has ever beheld.
John's influence on the world has diminished as men have receded
further from his age; but Jesus is King of the ages. He creates, He
fashions, He leads them forth; He is with us always, to the end of the
age. We have not to go back through the centuries to find Him in the
cradle or in Mary's arms, in the fishing-boat or on the mountain, on
the cross or in the grave; He is _here_ beside us, with us, in us, "all
the days." John, then, was "a burning and shining torch," lifted for a
moment aloft in the murky air; but Jesus was THAT LIGHT. As the
star-light, which fails to illumine the page of your book or the
dial-plate of your watch, is to the sunlight, as the courier is to the
sovereign, as the streamlet is to the ocean--such was John as compared
with Him whose shoe-latchet he felt himself unworthy to stoop down and
unloose. Greatest born of women he might be; "sent from God" he was:
but One came after him who bore upon his front the designation of his
Divine origin and mission, behind whom the gates of the past closed as
when a king has passed through, and at whose girdle hang the keys of
the doors and gates of the Ages.
To read the calm idyllic pages of the Gospels, apart from some
knowledge of contemporary history, is to miss one of their deepest
lessons--that such piety and beneficence were set in the midst of a
most tumultuous and perilous age. Those times were by no means
favourable to the cultivation of the deepest life. The flock of God
had long left the green pastures and still waters of outward peace, and
were passing through the valley of death-shadow, every step of the path
being infested by the enemies of their peace. The wolf, indeed, was
coming. The national life was already being rent by those throes of
agony which betokened the passing away of an age, and reached their
climax in the Fall of Jerusalem, of which Jesus said there had been
nothing, and would be nothing, like it in the history of the world.
Herod was on the throne--crafty, cruel, sensual, imperious, and
magnificent. The gorgeous Temple which bore his name was the scene of
priestly service and sacramental rites. The great national feasts of
the Passover, of Tabernacles, and of Pentecost, were celebrated with
solemn pomp, and attracted vast crowds from all the world. In every
part of the land synagogues were maintained with punctilious care, and
crowds of scribes were perpetually engaged in a microscopic study of
the law, and in the instruction of the people. In revenue, and popular
attention, and apparent devoutness, that period had not been excelled
in the most palmy days of Solomon or Hezekiah. But beneath this
decorous surface the rankest, foulest, most desperate corruption throve.
To the aged couple in the hill-country of Judaea, as to Mary and Joseph
at Nazareth, must have come tidings of the murder of Aristobulus, of
the cruel death of Mariamne and her sons, and of the aged Hyrcanus.
They must have groaned beneath the grinding oppression by which Herod
extorted from the poorer classes the immense revenues which he
squandered on his palaces and fortresses and on the creation of new
cities. That he was introducing everywhere Gentile customs and games;
that he had dared to place the Roman eagle on the main entrance of the
Temple; that he had pillaged David's tomb; that he had set aside the
great council of their nation, and blinded the saintly Jochanan; that
the religious leaders, men like Caiaphas and Annas, were quite willing
to wink at the crimes of the secular power, so long as their prestige
and emoluments were secured; that the national independence for which
Judas and his brothers had striven, during the Maccabean wars, was fast
being laid at the feet of Rome, which was only too willing to take
advantage of the chaos which followed immediately upon Herod's hideous
death--such tidings must have come, in successive shocks of anguish, to
those true hearts who were waiting for the redemption of Israel, with
all the more eagerness as it seemed so long delayed, so urgently
needed. Still, they made their yearly journeys to Jerusalem, and
participated in the great convocations, which, in outward splendour,
eclipsed memories of the past; but they realized that the glory had
departed, and that the mere husk of externalism could not long resist
the incoming tides of militarism, of the love of display, and the
corrupting taint of the worst aspects of Roman civilization. When the
feasts were over, these pious hearts turned back to their homes among
the hills, tearing themselves from the last glimpse of the beautiful
city, with the cry, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!"
The darkest hour precedes the dawn, and it was just at this point that
Old Testament predictions must have been so eagerly scanned by those
that watched and waited. That the Messiah was nigh, they could not
doubt. The term of years foretold by Daniel had nearly expired. The
sceptre had departed from Judah, and the lawgiver from between his
feet. Even the Gentile world was penetrated with the expectation of a
King. Sybils in their ancient writings, hermits in their secret cells,
Magi studying the dazzling glories of the eastern heavens, had come to
the conclusion that He was at hand who would bring again the Golden Age.
And so those loyal and loving souls that often spake together, while
the Lord hearkened and heard, must have felt that as the advent of the
Lord whom they sought was nigh, that of his messenger must be nearer
still. They started at every footfall. They listened for every voice.
They scanned the expression of every face. "Behold, he shall come,"
rang in their hearts like a peal of silver bells. At any moment might
a voice be heard crying, "Cast up, cast up the highway; gather out the
stones; lift up an ensign for the peoples. Say ye to the daughter of
Sion, Behold, thy salvation cometh." Those anticipations were realized
in the birth of John the Baptist.