spiritual and potent for salvation less through the law, the
priesthood, and the ritual, than through psalm and prophecy. Of the
revelation of the law Paul says, "The ministration of death written
and engraven on stones came with glory, so that the children of
Israel could not look steadfastly upon the face of Moses, for the
glory of his face." With such holy and awful brightness did God
appear in the law, that Moses had to cover his face from which the
splendour was reflected. But the psalmist, pressing towards the
light with fine spiritual boldness and humility, could say, "When
Thou saidst, Seek ye My face; my heart said unto Thee, Thy face,
Lord, will I seek" (Psalm xxvii. 8); and again, "Turn us again, O
God of hosts, and cause Thy face to shine; and we shall be saved"
(Psalm lxxx. 7). And in an oracle of Isaiah (liv. 8), Jehovah says,
"In overflowing wrath I hid My face from thee for a moment; but with
everlasting kindness shall I have mercy on thee."
In the third clause of the benediction the peace of God, that calm of
mind, conscience, and life which accompanies salvation, is invoked.
From the trouble and sorrow and tumult of existence, from the fear
of hostile power, from evil influences seen and unseen, the Divine
hand will give salvation. It seems indeed to be the meaning that the
gracious regard of God is enough. Are His people in affliction and
anxiety? Jehovah's look will deliver them. They will feel calmly safe
as if a shield were interposed between them and the keen arrows
of jealousy and hatred. "In covert of Thy presence shalt Thou hide
them from the plottings of man: Thou shalt keep them secretly in a
pavilion from the strife of tongues." Their tranquillity is described
by Isaiah: "In righteousness shalt thou be established: thou shalt
be far from oppression, for thou shalt not fear; and from terror,
for it shall not come near thee ... no weapon that is formed against
thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in
judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of
the Lord, and their righteousness which is of Me, saith the Lord."
The peace of the human soul is not, however, entirely provided for by
the assurance of Divine protection from hostile force. A man is not
in perfect tranquillity because he belongs to a nation or a church
defended by omnipotence. His own troubles and fears are the main
causes of unrest. And the Spirit of God, who cleanses and renews the
soul, is the true Peace-giver. "To win true peace a man needs to
feel himself directed, pardoned, and sustained by a supreme power,
to feel himself in the right road, at the point where God would have
him to be--in order with God and the universe." In his heart the note
of harmony must be struck deep and true, in profound reconciliation
and unity with God. With this in view the oracles of Ezekiel connect
renewal and peace. "I will put My Spirit in you, and ye shall live
... I will make a covenant of peace with them; it shall be an
everlasting covenant with them ... and I will set My sanctuary in the
midst of them for evermore."
The protection of God the Father, the grace and truth of the Son,
the comfort and peace of the Spirit--were these, then, implied
in Israel's religion and included in this blessing of Aaron?
Germinally, at least, they were. The strain of unity running through
the Old and New Testaments is heard here and in the innumerable
passages that may be grouped along with the threefold benediction.
The work of Christ, as Revealer and Saviour, did not begin when He
appeared in the flesh. As the Divine Word He spoke by every prophet
and through the priest to the silent congregations age after age.
Nor did the dispensation of the Spirit arise on the world like a new
light on that day of Pentecost when the disciples of Christ were
gathered in their upper chamber and the tongues of fire were seen.
There were those even in the old Hebrew days on whom the Spirit was
poured from on high, with whom "judgment dwelt in the wilderness, and
righteousness in the fruitful field: and the work of righteousness
was peace, and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance
for ever." He who is our peace came in the appointed time to fill
with eternal meaning the old benedictions, and set our assurance on
the immovable rock of His own sacrifice and power.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] "Concerning the Holy Baptism," chap. i.
VI
_SANCTUARY AND PASSOVER_
1. THE OFFERINGS OF THE PRINCES
NUMBERS vii
The opening verses of the chapter seem to imply that immediately after
the erection of the tabernacle the gifts of the princes were brought
by way of thank offering. The note of time, "on the day that Moses had
made an end of setting up the tabernacle," appears very precise. It
has been made a difficulty that, according to the narrative of Exodus,
a considerable time had elapsed since the work was finished. But this
account of the oblations of the princes, like a good many other ancient
records incorporated in the present book, has a place given it from the
desire to include everything that seemed to belong to the time of the
wilderness. All incidents could not be arranged in consecutive order,
because, let us suppose, the Book of Exodus to which this and others
properly belonged was already complete. Numbers is the more fragmentary
book. The expression, "on the day," must apparently be taken in a
general sense as in Gen. ii. 4: "These are the generations of the
heavens and of the earth in the day that the Lord God made earth and
heaven." In Numb. ix. 15 the same note of time, "on the day that the
tabernacle was reared up," marks the beginning of another reminiscence
or tradition. The setting up of the tabernacle and consecration of the
altar gave occasion presumably for this manifestation of generosity.
But the offerings described could not be provided immediately; they
must have taken time to prepare. Golden spoons of ten shekels' weight
were not to be found ready-made in the camp; nor were the oil and fine
flour to be had at a day's notice. Of course the gifts might have been
prepared in anticipation.
The account of the bringing of the offerings by the princes on twelve
successive days, one Sabbath at least included, gives the impression
of a festival display. The narrator dwells with some pride on the
exhibition of religious zeal and liberality, a fine example set to the
people by men in high position. The gifts had not been asked by Moses;
they were purely voluntary. Considering the value of precious metals
at the time, and the poverty of the Israelites, they were handsome,
though not extravagant. It is estimated that the gold and silver of
each prince would equal in value about seven hundred and thirty of our
shillings, and so the whole amount contributed, without regarding the
changed value of the metals, would be equivalent to some four hundred
and thirty-eight pounds sterling. In addition there were the fine flour
and oil, and the bullocks, rams, lambs, and kids for sacrifice.
It is an obvious remark here that spontaneous liberality has in the
very form of the narrative the very highest commendation. Nothing
could be more fitted to create in the minds of the people respect for
the sanctuary and the worship associated with it than this hearty
dedication of their wealth by the heads of the tribes. As the people
saw the slow processions moving day by day from the different parts of
the camp, and joined in raising their hallelujahs of joy and praise, a
spirit of generous devotion would be kindled in many hearts. It appears
a singular agreement that each prince of a tribe gave precisely the
same as his neighbour. But by this arrangement one was not put to shame
by the greater liberality of another. Often, as we know, there is in
giving, quite as much of human rivalry as of holy generosity. One must
not be outdone by his neighbour, would rather surpass his neighbour.
Here all appears to be done in the brotherly spirit.
Does the author of Numbers present an ideal for us to keep in view
in our dedication of riches to the service of the Gospel? It was in
full accord with the symbolic nature of Hebrew religion that believers
should enrich the tabernacle and give its services an air of splendour.
Almost the only way for the Israelites to honour God in harmony
with their separation from others as His people, was that of making
glorious the house in which He set His name, the whole arrangements
for sacrifice and festival and priestly ministration. In the temple of
Solomon that idea culminated which on this occasion fixed the value and
use of the princes' gifts. But under Christianity the service of God is
the service of mankind. When the thought and labour of the disciples
of Christ are devoted to the needs of men there is a tribute to the
glory of God. "It has been said--it is true--that a better and more
honourable offering is made to our Master in ministry to the poor, in
extending the knowledge of His name, in the practice of the virtues
by which that name is hallowed, than in material gifts to His temple.
Assuredly it is so: woe to all who think that any other kind or manner
of offering may in any way take the place of these."[3] The decoration
of the house used for worship, its stateliness and charm, are secondary
to the upbuilding of that temple of which believing men and women are
the eternal stones, for basement, pillar, and wall. In the development
of Judaism the temple with its costly sacrifices and ministries
swallowed up the means and enthusiasm of the people. Israel recognised
no duty to the outside world. Even its prophets, because they were not
identified with the temple worship, were in the main neglected and left
to penury. It is a mistaken use of the teaching of the Old Testament
to take across its love of splendour in sanctuary and worship, while
the spread of Christian truth abroad and among the poor is scantily
provided for.
But the liberality of the leaders of the tribes, and of all who in
the times of the old covenant gave freely to the support of religion,
stands before us to-day as a noble example. In greater gratitude for
a purer faith, a larger hope, we should be more generous. Devoting
ourselves first as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God, we
should count it an honour to give in proportion to our ability. One
after another, every prince, every father of a family, every servant
of the Lord, to the poorest widow, should bring a becoming gift.
* * * * *
The chapter closes with a verse apparently quite detached from
the narrative as well as from what follows, which, however, has a
singular importance as embodying the law of the oracle. "And when
Moses went into the tent of meeting to speak with Him, then he heard
the Voice speaking unto him from above the mercy-seat that was upon
the ark of the testimony, from between the two cherubim: and he
spake unto Him." At first this may seem exceedingly anthropomorphic.
It is a human voice that is heard by Moses speaking in response to
his inquiries. One is there, in the darkness behind the veil, who
converses with the prophet as friend communicates with friend. Yet,
on reflection, it will be felt that the statement is marked by a
grave idealism and has an air of mystery befitting the circumstances.
There is no form or visible manifestation, no angel or being in human
likeness, representing God. It is only a Voice that is heard. And
that Voice, as proceeding from above the mercy-seat which covered the
law, is a revelation of what is in harmony with the righteousness and
truth, as well as the compassion, of the Unseen God. The separateness
of Jehovah is very strikingly suggested. Here only, in this tent
of meeting, apart from the common life of humanity, can the one
prophet-mediator receive the sacred oracles. And the veil still
separates even Moses from the mystic Voice. Yet God is so akin to men
that He can use their words, make His message intelligible through
Moses to those who are not holy enough to hear for themselves, but
are capable of responding in obedient faith.
Whatever is elsewhere said in regard to the Divine communications
that were given through Moses must be interpreted by this general
statement. The revelations to Israel came in the silence and mystery
of this place of audience, when the leader of the people had
withdrawn from the bustle and strain of his common tasks. He must
be in the exalted mood this highest of all offices requires. With
patient, earnest soul he must wait for the Word of God. There is
nothing sudden, no violent flash of light on the ecstatic mind. All
is calm and grave.
2. THE CANDELABRUM
NUMBERS viii. 1-4
The seven-branched candlestick with its lamps stood in the outer
chamber of the tabernacle into which the priests had frequently to
go. When the curtain at the entrance of the tent was drawn aside
during the day there was abundance of light in the Holy Place, and
then the lamps were not required. It may indeed appear from Exod.
xxvii. 20, that one lamp of the seven fixed on the candelabrum was to
be kept burning by day as well as by night. Doubt, however, is thrown
on this by the command, repeated in Lev. xxiv. 1-4, that Aaron shall
order it "from evening to morning;" and Rabbi Kimchi's statement that
the "western lamp" was always found burning cannot be accepted as
conclusive. In the wilderness, at all events, no lamp could be kept
always alight; and from 1 Sam. iii. 3 we learn that the Divine voice
was heard by the child-prophet when Eli was laid down in his place,
"and the lamp of God was not yet gone out" in the temple where the
ark of God was. The candelabrum therefore seems to have been designed
not specially as a symbol, but for use. And here direction is given,
"When thou lightest the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light in
front of the candlestick." All were to be so placed upon the supports
that they might shine across the Holy Place, and illuminate the altar
of incense and the table of shewbread.
The text goes on to state that the candlestick was all of beaten work
of gold; "unto the base thereof and unto the flowers thereof, it
was beaten work," and the pattern was that which Jehovah had showed
Moses. The material, the workmanship, and the form, not particularly
important in themselves, are anew referred to because of the special
sacredness belonging to all the furniture of the tabernacle.
The attempt to fasten typical meanings to the seven lights of the
candelabrum, to the ornaments and position, and especially to project
those meanings into the Christian Church, has little warrant even
from the Book of Revelation, where Christ speaks as "He that walketh
in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks." There can be no
doubt, however, that symbolic references may be found, illustrating
in various ways the subjects of revelation and the Christian life.
The "tent of meeting" may represent to us that chamber or temple of
reverent inquiry where the voice of the Eternal is heard, and His
glory and holiness are realised by the seeker after God. It is a
chamber silent, solemn, and dark, curtained in such gloom, indeed,
that some have maintained there is no revelation to be had, no
glimpse of Divine life or love. But as the morning sunshine flowed
into the Holy Place when the hangings were drawn aside, so from the
natural world light may enter the chamber in which fellowship with
God is sought. "The invisible things of Him since the creation of
the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that
are made, even His everlasting power and divinity." The world is not
God, its forces are not in the true sense elemental--do not belong to
the being of the Supreme. But it bears witness to the infinite mind,
the omnipotent will it cannot fitly represent. In the silence of the
tent of meeting, when the light of nature shines through the door
that opens to the sunrise, we realise that the inner mystery must
be in profound accord with the outer revelation--that He who makes
the light of the natural world must be in Himself the light of the
spiritual world; that He who maintains order in the great movements
and cycles of the material universe, maintains a like order in the
changes and evolutions of the immaterial creation.
Yet the light of the natural world shining thus into the sacred
chamber, while it aids the seeker after God in no small degree,
fails at a certain point. It is too hard and glaring for the hour
of most intimate communion. By night, as it were, when the world is
veiled and silent, when the soul is shut alone in earnest desire and
thought, then it is that the highest possibilities of intercourse
with the unseen life are realised. And then, as the seven-branched
candlestick with its lamps illuminated the Holy Place, a radiance
which belongs to the sanctuary of life must supply the soul's need.
On the curtained walls, on the altar, on the veil whose heavy folds
guard the most holy mysteries, this light must shine. Nature does not
reveal the life of the Ever-Living, the love of the All-Loving, the
will of the All-Holy. In the conscious life and love of the soul,
created anew after the plan and likeness of God in Christ,--here is
the light. The unseen God is the Father of our spirits. The lamps of
purified reason, Christ-born faith and love, holy aspiration, are
those which dispel the darkness on our side the veil. The Word and
the Spirit give the oil by which those lamps are fed.
Must we say that with the Father, Christ also, who once lived on
earth, is in the inner chamber which our gaze cannot penetrate?
Even so. A thick curtain is interposed between the earthly and the
heavenly. Yet while by the light which shines in his own soul the
seeker after God regards the outer chamber--its altar, its shewbread,
its walls, and canopy--his thought passes beyond the veil. The altar
is fashioned according to a pattern and used according to a law
which God has given. It points to prayer, thanksgiving, devotion,
that have their place in human life because facts exist out of which
they arise--the beneficence, the care, the claims of God. The table
of shewbread represents the spiritual provision made for the soul
which cannot live but by every word that cometh out of the mouth of
God. The continuity of the outer chamber with the inner suggests the
close union there is between the living soul and the living God--and
the veil itself, though it separates, is no jealous and impenetrable
wall of division. Every sound on this side can be heard within; and
the Voice from the mercy seat, declaring the will of the Father
through the enthroned Word, easily reaches the waiting worshipper
to guide, comfort, and instruct. By the light of the lamps kindled
in our spiritual nature the things of God are seen; and the lamps
themselves are witnesses to God. They burn and shine by laws He
has ordained, in virtue of powers that are not fortuitous nor of
the earth. The illumination they give on this side the veil proves
clearly that within it the Parent Light, glorious, never-fading,
shines--transcendent reason, pure and almighty will, unchanging
love--the life which animates the universe.
Again, the symbolism of the candlestick has an application suggested
by Rev. i. 20. Now, the outer chamber of the tabernacle in which the
lamps shine represents the whole world of human life. The temple
is vast; it is the temple of the universe. Still the veil exists;
it separates the life of men on earth from the life in heaven, with
God. Isaiah in his oracles of redemption spoke of a coming revolution
which should open the world to Divine light. "He will destroy in
this mountain the face of the covering that is cast over all people,
and the veil that is spread over all nations." And the light itself,
still as proceeding from a Hebrew centre, is described in the
second book of the Isaian prophecies: "For Zion's sake will I not
hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until her
righteousness go forth as brightness and her salvation as a lamp that
burneth. And the nations shall see thy righteousness and all kings
thy glory." But the prediction was not fulfilled until the Hebrew
merged in the human and He came who, as the Son of Man, is the true
light which lighteth every man coming into the world.
Dark was the outer chamber of the great temple when the Light of life
first shone, and the darkness comprehended it not. When the Church
was organised, and the apostles of our Lord, bearing the gospel of
Divine grace, went through the lands, they addressed a world still
under the veil of which Isaiah spoke. But the spiritual enlightenment
of mankind proceeded; the lamps of the candlestick, set in their
places, showed the new altar, the new table of heavenly bread, a
feast spread for all nations, and made the ignorant and earthly
aware that they stood within a temple consecrated by the offering of
Christ. St. John saw in Asia, amid the gross darkness of its seven
great cities, seven lamp-stands with their lights, some increasing,
some waning in brightness. The sacred flame was carried from country
to country, and in every centre of population a lamp was kindled.
There was no seven-branched candelabrum merely, but one of a hundred,
of a thousand arms. And all drew their oil from the one sacred
source, cast more or less bravely the same Divine illumination on the
dark eye of earth.
True, the world had its philosophy and poetry, using, often with no
little power, the themes of natural religion. In the outer chamber
of the temple the light of nature gleamed on the altar, on the
shewbread, on the veil. But interpretation failed, faith in the
unseen was mixed with dreams, no real knowledge was gained of what
the folds of the curtain hid--the mercy-seat, the holy law that
called for pure worship and love of one Living and True God. And
then the darkness that fell when the Saviour hung on the cross, the
darkness of universal sin and condemnation, was made so deeply felt
that in the shadow of it the true light might be seen, and the lamp
of every church might glow, a beacon of Divine mercy shining across
the troubled life of man. And the world has responded, will respond,
with greater comprehension and joy, as the Gospel is proclaimed with
finer spirit, embodied with greater zeal in lives of faith and love.
Christ in the truth, Christ in the sacraments, Christ in the words
and deeds of those who compose His Church--this is the light. The
candlestick of every life, of every body of believers, should be as
of beaten gold, no base metal mixed with that which is precious. He
who fashions his character as a Christian is to have the Divine idea
before him and re-think it; those who build the Church are to seek
its purity, strength, and grace. But still the light must come from
God, not from man, the light that burned on the altar of the Divine
sacrifice and shines from the glorious personality of the risen Lord.
3. THE PASSOVER
NUMBERS ix. 1-14[4]
The day fixed by statute for the feast which commemorated the
deliverance from Egypt was the fourteenth of the first month--the year
beginning with the month of the exodus. Chap. ix. opens by reiterating
this statute, already recorded in Exod. xii. and Lev. xxiii., and
proceeds to narrate the observance of the Passover in the second year.
A supplementary provision follows which met the case of those excluded
from the feast through ceremonial uncleanness. In one passage it is
assumed that the statutes and ordinances of the celebration are already
known. The feast proper, ordered to be kept between the two evenings of
the fourteenth day, is, however, alone spoken of; there is no mention
of the week of unleavened bread (Exod. xii. 15; Lev. xxiii. 6), nor
of the holy convocations with which that week was to open and close.
It is almost impossible to avoid the conclusion that the Passover in
the wilderness was a simple family festival at which every head of a
household officiated in a priestly capacity. The supplementary Passover
of this chapter was, according to the rabbis, distinguished from the
great feast by the rites lasting only one day instead of seven, and
by other variations. There is, however, no trace of such a difference
between the one observance and the other. What was done by the
congregation on the fourteenth of Abib was apparently to be done at the
"Little Passover" of the following month.