The House of Zacharias.
(LUKE I.)
"There are in this loud stunning tide
Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide
Of the everlasting chime;
Who carry music in their heart
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat."
KEBLE.
Early History of the Baptist--God's Hidden Ones--The Hill Country of
Judea--A Childless Home--The Forerunner Announced.
To the evangelist Luke we are indebted for details of those antecedent
circumstances that ushered John the Baptist into the world. He tells
us that he had "traced the course of all things accurately from the
first." And in those final words, "from the first," he suggests that
he had deliberately sought to examine into those striking events from
which, as from a wide-spreading root, the great growth of Christianity
had originated. Who of us has not sometimes followed the roots of some
newly-discovered plant deep into the black mould, intent on pursuing
them to their furthest extremity, and extricating them from the
clinging earth without injuring one delicate radicle? So this good
physician, accustomed by his training to accurate research and
experiment, went back to scenes and events anterior to any which his
brother Evangelists recorded. He compensated for the authority of an
eye-witness by the thoroughness and care of his investigation.
What were the sources from which the third Evangelist drew his
information? We cannot be sure, but may hazard a suggestion, which is
supported by the archaic simplicity, the indescribable grace, the
almost idyllic beauty of his two opening chapters. Critics have
repeatedly drawn attention to their unique character, and insisted that
they are due to some other hand than that which has given us the rest
of the story of "the Son of Man." And why should we not attribute them
to "the Mother" herself? It has been truly said that mothers are the
natural historians of their children's early days--never tired of
observing them, they never tire of recounting their prodigies; and, in
an especial manner, Mary had kept all things, pondering in her heart
those wonderful circumstances which had left so indelible an impression
on her life. She who, in her over-welling joy, uttered "the
Magnificat," was surely capable, even judging from a literary and human
standpoint, of the language in which the story is told; and the facts
themselves would only stand out the clearer in her closing years, as
many another memory faded from her mind. The granite remains when the
floods have swept away the light soil that filled the interstices of
the rocks.
It were a theme worthy of a great artist to depict! Mary's face,
furrowed by deep lines of anguish, yet glowing with sacred fire and
holy memory. Luke, sitting at his manuscript, now letting her tell her
story without interruption, and again interpolating an inquiry, the
words growing on the page; while, nearer than each to either, making no
tremor in the hot summer air as He comes, casting no shadow in the
brilliant eastern light--He of whom they speak and write steals in to
stand beside them, bringing all things to their remembrance by the Holy
Spirit's agency, even as He had told them.
The story of John the Baptist was so clearly part of that of Jesus,
that Mary could hardly recall the one without the other. And, besides,
Elisabeth, as the angel said, was her kinswoman--perhaps her cousin--to
whom she naturally turned in the hour of her maidenly astonishment and
rapture. Though much younger, Mary was united to her relative by a
close and tender tie, and it was only natural that what had happened to
Elisabeth should have impressed her almost as deeply as her own
memorable experiences. So it is possible that from the lips of the
mother of our Lord we obtain these details of the House of Zacharias.
I. THE QUIET IN THE LAND.--God has always had his hidden ones; and,
while the world has been rent by faction and war, ravaged by fire and
sword, and drenched with the blood of her sons, these have heard his
call to enter their chamber, and shut themselves in until the storm had
spent its fury. It was so during the days of Ahab, when the eye of
omniscience beheld at least seven thousand who had not bowed the knee
to Baal. It was so in the awful days of the Civil War, when Puritan
and Royalist faced each other at Naseby and Marston Moor, and the land
seemed swept in a blinding storm. Groups of ardent souls gathered to
spend their time in worship and acts of mercy--like those at Little
Gidding, in Huntingdonshire, under the direction of Mr. Nicholas
Ferrar. It was so when the thirty years' war desolated Germany, and
"the quiet in the land" withdrew themselves from the agitated scene of
human affairs to wait on God, embalming their hearts in hymns and poems
which exhale a perfume as from crushed flowers.
It was eminently so in the days of which we write. Darkness covered
the earth, and gross darkness the peoples. Herod's infamous cruelties,
craft, and bloodshed were at their height. The country questioned with
fear what new direction his crimes might take. The priesthood was
obsequious to his whim; the bonds of society seemed dissolved. Theudas
and Judas of Galilee, mentioned by Gamaliel, were but specimens of the
bandit leaders who broke into revolt and harried the country districts
for the maintenance of their followers. Greed, peculation, and lawless
violence, had ample and undisputed opportunity to despoil the national
glory and corrupt the heart of the national life.
Is it to be wondered that the godly remnant would meet in little groups
and secluded hiding-places to comfort themselves in God? We are told,
for instance, that Anna spake of the Babe, whom she had probably
embraced in her aged trembling arms, "to all them that were looking for
the redemption of Jerusalem" (Luke ii. 38, R.V.). What would we not
give to know something more of the members of this sacred society,
which preserved the loftiest traditions, and embodied in their lives
some of the finest traits of the religion of their forefathers! The
gloom of their times only led them more eagerly to con the predictions
of their Hebrew prophets, and desire their accomplishment. Full often
they would climb the heights and look out over the desert wastes to
descry the advent of the Mighty One, coming from Edom, with his
garments stained with the blood of Israel's foes. When they met, the
burden of conversation, which flowed under vine or fig-tree, by the
wayside or in humble homes, would be of their cherished hope. And as
they beheld the hapless condition of their fatherland, the land of
Abraham, the city of David, the cry must often have been extorted; "How
long, O Lord, holy and true, will it be ere He shall come whose right
it is who shall sit on the throne of his father David, and of whose
kingdom there shall be no end? Come forth out of thy royal chambers, O
Prince of all the kings of the earth! Put on the visible robes of thy
imperial majesty; take up that unlimited sceptre which thy Almighty
Father hath bequeathed Thee; for now the voice of thy bride calls Thee,
and all creatures sigh to be renewed." So our great Milton prayed in
more recent days.
We are not drawing on our imagination in describing these true-hearted
watchers for the rising of the Day-star. They are fully indicated in
the Gospel story. There was Simeon, righteous and devout, unto whom it
had been revealed by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death
before he had seen the Lord's Christ; and Anna, the prophetess, who
departed not from the temple, worshipping with fastings and
supplications night and day; and the guileless Nathanael, an Israelite
indeed, who had perhaps already commenced to sit at the foot of the
ladder which bound his fig-tree to the highest heaven; and the peasant
maiden Mary, the descendant of a noble house, though with fallen
fortunes, who, like some vestal virgin, clad in snowy white, watched
through the dark hours beside the flickering flame; and last, but not
least, Zacharias and his wife Elisabeth, "who were both righteous
before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord
blameless."
For us, too, the times are dark. It is as though the shadows were
being thrown far across the fields, and the light were becoming dim.
Let the children of God draw together, to encourage each other in their
holy faith, and to speak of their great hopes; for He who appeared once
to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself shall appear a second time
without sin unto salvation. We are, as the French version puts it,
_burgesses of the skies_, "whence we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus
Christ, who shall fashion anew the body of our humiliation, that it may
be conformed to the body of his glory, according to the working whereby
He is able even to subject all things unto Himself."
But this attitude of spirit, which dwells in the unseen and eternal,
which counts on the indwelling of the Son of God by faith, and which
ponders deeply over the sins and sorrows of the world around, is the
temper of mind out of which the greatest deeds are wrought for the
cause of God on the earth. The Marys who sit at Christ's feet arise to
anoint Him for his burying. Take, for instance, the Moravian Church,
born and cradled amid the pietism of which Spener of Berlin and Franke
of Halle were the acknowledged leaders; and it has given to the world a
far larger number of missionaries in proportion to its membership than
any church of the age. Or take the followers of George Fox, who have
maintained through unparalleled suffering their testimony for
spirituality of worship; and it is undeniable that some of the greatest
reforms which have characterised the century recently closed have found
their foremost advocates and apologists from their somewhat meagre
ranks. Those who wait on God renew their strength. The world ignores
them, scorning to reckon their tears and toils amid its renovating
energies; but they refuse to abate their endeavours and sacrifices on
its behalf. They repay its neglect by more assiduous exertions, its
ingratitude by more exhausting sacrifices; content if, from out their
ranks, there presently steps one who, like John the Baptist, opens a
new chapter in the history of the race, and accelerates the advent of
the Christ.
II. THE PARENTAGE OF THE FORERUNNER.--As the traveller emerges from
the dreary wilderness that lies between Sinai and the southern frontier
of Palestine--a scorching desert, in which Elijah was glad to find
shelter from the sword-like rays in the shade of the retem shrub--he
sees before him a long line of hills, which is the beginning of "the
hill country of Judaea" (Luke i. 39). In contrast with the sand wastes
which he has traversed, the valleys seem to laugh and sing. Greener
and yet greener grow the pasture lands, till he can understand how
Nabal and other sheep-masters were able to find maintenance for vast
flocks of sheep. Here and there are the crumbled ruins which mark the
site of ancient towns and villages tenanted now by the jackal or the
wandering Arab. Amongst these, a modern traveller has identified the
site of Juttah, the village home of the priest Zacharias and his wife
Elisabeth.
To judge by their names, we may infer that their parents years before
had been godly people. _Zacharias_ meant _God's remembrance_; as
though he were to be a perpetual reminder to his fellows of what God
had promised, and to God of what they were expecting from his hand.
_Elisabeth_ meant _God's oath_; as though her people were perpetually
appealing to those covenant promises in which, since He could swear by
no greater, God had sworn by Himself, that He would never leave nor
forsake, and that when the sceptre departed from Judah and the
law-giver from between his feet, Shiloh should come.
Zacharias was a priest, "of the course of Abijah," and twice a year he
journeyed to Jerusalem to fulfil his office, for a week of six days and
two Sabbaths. There were, Josephus tells us, somewhat more than 20,000
priests settled in Judaea at this time; and very many of them were like
those whom Malachi denounced as degrading and depreciating the Temple
services. The general character of the priesthood was deeply tainted
by the corruption of the times, and as a class they were blind leaders
of the blind. Not a few, however, were evidently deeply religious men,
for we find that "a great number of the priests," after the
crucifixion, believed on Christ and joined his followers. In this
class we must therefore place Zacharias, who, with his wife, herself of
the daughters of Aaron, is described as being "righteous before God."
The phrases are evidently selected with care. Many are righteous
before men; but they were righteous _before God_. Their daily life and
walk were regulated by a careful observance of the ordinances of the
ceremonial and the commandments of the moral law. It is evident, from
the apt and plentiful quotations from Scripture with which the song of
Zacharias is replete, that the Scriptures were deeply pondered and
reverenced in that highland home; and we have the angel's testimony to
the prayers that ascended day and night. In all these things they were
blameless--not faultless, as judged by God's infinite standard of
rectitude, but blameless--because they lived up to the fullest limit of
their knowledge of the will of God. They were blameless and harmless,
the children of God, without blemish, in the midst of a crooked and
perverse generation, among whom they were seen as lights in the world,
holding forth amid neighbours and friends the Word of Truth.
But they lived under the shadow of a great sorrow. "They had no child,
because Elisabeth was barren, and they both were now well stricken in
years." When the good priest put off his official dress of white
linen, and returned to his mountain home, there was no childish voice
to welcome him. It seemed almost certain that their family would soon
die out and be forgotten; that no child would close their eyes in
death; and that by no link whatsoever could they be connected with the
Messiah, to be the progenitor of whom was the cherished longing of each
Hebrew parent.
"They had no child!" They would, therefore, count themselves under the
frown of God; and the mother especially felt that a reproach lay on
her. What a clue to the anguish of the soul is furnished by her own
reflection, when she recognised the glad divine interposition on her
behalf, and cried, "Thus hath the Lord done unto me in the days wherein
He looked upon me, to take away _my reproach among men_" (Luke i. 25).
But had it not been for this sorrow they might never have been
qualified to receive the first tidings of the near approach of the
Messiah. _Sorrow_ opens our eyes, and bids us see visions within the
vail, which cannot be described by those who have not wept. _Sorrow_
leads us up the steep mountain of vision, and opens the panorama which
lies beyond the view of those who dare not attempt the craggy steep.
_Sorrow_ prepares us to see angels standing beside the altar of incense
at the hour of prayer, and to hear words that mortal lips may not utter
until they are fulfilled. _Sorrow_ leads us to open our house to those
who carry a great anguish in their hearts, who come to us needing
shelter and comfort; to discover finally that we have entertained an
angel unawares, and that in some trembling maiden, threatened by
divorce from her espoused, we have welcomed the mother of the Lord
(ver. 43). Shrink not from sorrow. It endures but for the brief
eastern night; joy cometh in the morning, to remain. It may be caused
by long waiting and apparently fruitless prayer. Beneath its pressure
heart and flesh may faint. All natural hope may have become dead, and
the soul be plunged in hopeless despair. "Yet the Lord will command
his loving-kindness in the morning;" and it will be seen that the dull
autumn sowings of tears and loneliness and pain were the necessary
preliminary for that heavenly messenger who, standing "on the right
side of the altar of incense," shall assure us that our prayer is heard.
III. THE ANGEL'S ANNOUNCEMENT.--One memorable autumn, when the land
was full of the grape-harvest, Zacharias left his home, in the cradle
of the hills, some three thousand feet above the Mediterranean, for his
priestly service. Reaching the temple he would lodge in the cloisters,
and spend his days in the innermost court, which none might enter save
priests in their sacred garments. Among the various priestly duties,
none was held in such high esteem as the offering of incense, which was
presented morning and evening, on a special golden altar, in the Holy
Place at the time of prayer. "The whole multitude of the people were
praying without at the time of incense." So honourable was this office
that it was fixed by lot, and none was allowed to perform it twice.
Only once in a priest's life was he permitted to sprinkle the incense
on the burning coals, which an assistant had already brought from the
altar of burnt-sacrifice, and spread on the altar of incense before the
vail.
The silver trumpets had sounded. The smoke of the evening sacrifice
was ascending. The worshippers that thronged the different courts,
rising tier on tier, were engaged in silent prayer. The assistant
priest had retired; and Zacharias, for the first and only time in his
life, stood alone in the holy shrine, while the incense which he had
strewn on the glowing embers arose in fragrant clouds, enveloping and
veiling the objects around, whilst it symbolized the ascent of prayers
and intercessions not only from his own heart, but from the hearts of
his people, into the presence of God. "And their prayer came up to his
holy habitation, even unto heaven."
What a litany of prayer poured from his heart! For Israel, that the
chosen people should be delivered from their low estate; for the cause
of religion, that it might be revived; for the crowds without, that God
would hear the prayers they were offering toward his holy sanctuary,
and, perhaps, for Elisabeth and himself, that, if possible, God would
hear their prayer, and, if not, that He would grant them to bear
patiently their heavy sorrow.
"And there appeared unto him an angel of the Lord standing on the right
side of the altar of incense." Mark how circumstantial the narrative
is. There could be no mistake. He stood--and he stood on the right
side. It was Gabriel who stands in the presence of God, who had been
sent to speak to him, and declare the good tidings that his prayer was
heard; that his wife should bear a son, who should be called John, that
the child should be welcomed with joy, should be a Nazarite from his
birth, should be filled with the Holy Spirit from his birth, should
inherit the spirit and power of Elias, and should go before the face of
Christ to prepare his way, by turning the hearts of the fathers to the
children, and the disobedient to walk in the wisdom of the just.
He tarried long in the temple, and what wonder! The people would have
ceased to marvel at the long suspense, could they have known the cause
of the delay. Presently he came out; but when he essayed to pronounce
the customary blessing his lips were dumb. He made signs as he reached
forth his hands in the attitude of benediction; but that day no
blessing fell on their upturned faces. He continued making signs unto
them and remained dumb. Dumb, because he questioned the likelihood of
so good and gracious an answer. Dumb, because he believed not the
archangel's words. Dumb, that he might learn in silence and solitude
the full purposes of God, to set them presently to song. Dumb, that
the tidings might not spread as yet. Dumb, as the representative of
that wonderful system, which for so long had spoken to mankind with
comparatively little result, but was now to be superseded by the Word
of God.
With the light of that glory on his face, and those sweet notes of
"Fear not" ringing in his heart, Zacharias continued to fulfil the
duties of his ministration, and, when his work was fulfilled, departed
unto his house. But that day was long remembered by the people,
prelude as it was to the time when their blessings would no longer come
from Ebal or Gerizim, but from Calvary; and when the great High Priest
would utter from heaven the ancient words:
The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.