which must always be kept in view. It is this, that the Church is
not to slacken her march not divert her march in any degree because
men not fully in sympathy with her join the company and contribute
their service. The Kenite may cast in his lot with the Israelites
and aid them with his experience. But Moses will not cease to lead
the tribes towards Canaan, will not delay their progress a single
day for Hobab's sake. Nor will he less earnestly claim sole Godhead
for Jehovah, and insist that every sacrifice shall be made to Him
and every life kept holy in His way, for His service. Perhaps the
Kenite faith differed little in its elements from that which the
Israelites inherited. It may have been monotheistic; and we know that
part of the worship was by way of sacrifice not unlike that appointed
by the Mosaic law. But it had neither the wide ethical basis nor
the spiritual aim and intensity which Moses had been the means of
imparting to Israel's religion. And from the ideas revealed to him
and embodied in the moral and ceremonial law he could not for the
sake of Hobab resile in the least. There should be no adjustment of
creed or ritual to meet the views of the new ally. Onward to Canaan,
onward also along the lines of religious duty and development, the
tribes would hold their way as before.
In modern alliances with the Church a danger is involved,
sufficiently apparent to all who regard the state of religion.
History is full of instances in which, to one company of helpers
and another, too much has been conceded; and the march of spiritual
Christianity is still greatly impeded by the same thing. Money
contributed, by whomsoever, is held to give the donors a right to
take their place in councils of the Church, or at least to sway
decision now in one direction, now in another. Prestige is offered
with the tacit understanding that it shall be repaid with deference.
The artist uses his skill, but not in subordination to the ideas of
spiritual religion. He assumes the right to give them his own colour,
and may even, while professing to serve Christianity, sensualise
its teaching. Scholarship offers help, but is not content to submit
to Christ. Having been allowed to join itself with the Church, it
proceeds, not infrequently, to play the traitor's part, assailing
the faith it was invoked to serve. Those who care more for pleasure
than for religion may within a certain range find gratification in
Christian worship; they are apt to claim more and still more of the
element that meets their taste. And those who are bent on social
reconstruction would often, without any thought of doing wrong,
divert the Church entirely from its spiritual mission. When all these
influences are taken into account, it will be seen that Christianity
has to go its way amid perils. It must not be unsympathetic. But
those to whom its camp is opened, instead of helping the advance, may
neutralise the whole enterprise.
Every Church has great need at present to consider whether that clear
spiritual aim which ought to be the constant guide is not forgotten,
at least occasionally, for the sake of this or that alliance supposed
to be advantageous. It is difficult to find the mean, difficult to
say who serve the Church, who hinder its success. More difficult
still is it to distinguish those who are heartily with Christianity
from those who are only so in appearance, having some nostrum of
their own to promote. Hobab may decide to go with Israel; but the
invitation he accepts, perhaps with an air of superiority, of one
conferring a favour, is really extended to him for his good, for the
saving of his life. Let there be no blowing of the silver trumpets
to announce that a prince of the Kenites henceforth journeys with
Israel; they were not made for that! Let there be no flaunting of
a gay ensign over his tent. We shall find that a day comes when
the men who stand by true religion have--perhaps through Kenite
influence--the whole congregation to face. So it is in Churches.
On the other hand, Pharisaism is a great danger, equally tending
to destroy the value of religion; and Providence ever mingles the
elements that enter into the counsels of Christianity, challenging
the highest wisdom, courage, and charity of the faithful.
* * * * *
The closing verses of chap. x. (33-6), belonging, like the passage just
considered, to the prophetic narrative, affirm that the ark was borne
from Sinai three days' journey before the host to find a halting-place.
The reconciliation between this statement and the order which places
the ark in the centre of the march, may be that the ideal plan was
at the outset not observed, for some sufficient reason. The absolute
sincerity of the compilers of the Book of Numbers is shown in their
placing almost side by side the two statements without any attempt to
harmonise. Both were found in the ancient documents, and both were set
down in good faith. The scribes into whose hands the old records came
did not assume the _rôle_ of critics.
At the beginning of every march Moses is reported to have used the
chant: "Rise up, O Jehovah, and let Thine enemies be scattered; and
let them that hate Thee flee before Thee." When the ark rested he
said: "Return, O Jehovah, unto the ten thousands of the thousands
of Israel." The former is the opening strain of Psalm lxviii., and
its magnificent strophes move towards the idea of that rest which
Israel finds in the protection of her God. Part of the ode returns
upon the desert journey, adding some features and incidents omitted
in the narrations of the Pentateuch--such as the plentiful rain
which refreshed the weary tribes, the publishing by women of some
Divine oracle. But on the whole the psalm agrees with the history,
making Sinai the scene of the great revelation of God, and indicating
the guidance He gave through the wilderness by means of the cloudy
pillar. The chants of Moses would be echoed by the people, and would
help to maintain the sense of constant relation between the tribes
and their unseen Defender.
Through the wilderness Israel went, not knowing from what quarter the
sudden raid of a desert people might be made. Swiftly, silently, as if
springing out of the very sand, the Arab raiders might bear down upon
the travellers. They were assured of the guardianship of Him whose eye
never slumbered, when they kept His way and held themselves at His
command. Here the resemblance to our case in the journey of life is
clear; and we are reminded of our need of defence and the only terms
on which we may expect it. We may look for protection against those
who are the enemies of God. But we have no warrant for assuming that
on whatever errand we are bound we have but to invoke the Divine arm
in order to be secure. The dreams of those who think their personal
claim on God may always be urged have no countenance in the prayer,
"Rise up, O Jehovah, and let Thine enemies be scattered." And as Israel
settling to rest after some weary march could enjoy the sense of
Jehovah's presence only if the duties of the day had been patiently
done, and the thought of God's will had made peace in every tribe, and
His promise had given courage and hope--so for us, each day will close
with the Divine benediction when we have "fought a good fight and kept
the faith." Fidelity there must be; or, if it has failed, the deep
repentance that subdues wandering desire and rebellious will, bringing
the whole of life anew into the way of lowly service.
IX
_THE STRAIN OF THE DESERT JOURNEY_
NUMBERS xi
The narrative has accompanied the march of Israel but a short way from
the mount of God to some spot marked for an encampment by the ark
of the covenant, and already complaining has to be told of, and the
swift judgment of those who complained. The Israelites have made a
reservation in their covenant with God, that though obedience and trust
are solemnly promised, yet leave shall be taken to murmur against His
providence. They will have God for their Protector, they will worship
Him; but let Him make their life smooth. Much has had to be borne which
they did not anticipate; and they grumble and speak evil.
Generally men do not realise that their murmuring is against God.
They have no intention to accuse His providence. It is of other men
they complain, who come in their way; of accidents, so called, for
which no one seems to be responsible; of regulations, well enough
meant, which at some point prove vexatious; the obtuseness and
carelessness of those who undertake but do not perform. And there
does seem to be a great difference between displeasure with human
agents whose follies and failures provoke us, and discontent with our
own lot and its trials. At the same time, this has to be kept in
view, that while we carefully refrain from criticising Providence,
there may be, underlying our complaints, a tacit opinion that the
world is not well made nor well ordered. To a certain extent the
persons who irritate us are responsible for their mistakes; but just
among those who are prone to err our discipline has been appointed.
To gird at them is as much a revolt against the Creator as to
complain of the heat of summer or the winter cold. With our knowledge
of what the world is, of what our fellow-creatures are, should go the
perception that God rules everywhere and stands against us when we
resent what, in His world, we have to do or to suffer. He is against
those who fail in duty also. Yet it is not for us to be angry. Our
due will not be withheld. Even when we suffer most it is still
offered, still given. While we endeavour to remedy the evils we feel,
it must be without a thought that the order appointed by the Great
King fails us at any point.
The punishment of those who complained is spoken of as swift and
terrible. "The fire of the Lord burnt among them, and devoured in the
uttermost part of the camp." This judgment falls under a principle
assumed throughout the whole book, that disaster must overtake
transgressors, and conversely that death by pestilence, earthquake,
or lightning is invariably a result of sin. For the Israelites this
was one of the convictions that maintained a sense of moral duty and
of the danger of offending God. Again and again in the wilderness,
where thunderstorms were common and plagues spread rapidly, the
impression was strongly confirmed that the Most High observed
everything that was done against His will. The journey to Canaan
brought in this way a new experience of God to those who had been
accustomed to the equable conditions of climate and the comparative
health enjoyed in Egypt. The moral education of the people advanced
by the quickening of conscience in regard to all that befell Israel.
From the disaster at Taberah the narrative passes to another phase of
complaint in which the whole camp was involved. The dissatisfaction
began amongst the "mixed multitude"--that somewhat lawless crowd of
low-caste Egyptians and people of the Delta and the wilderness who
attached themselves to the host. Among them first, because they had
absolutely no interest in Israel's hope, a disposition to quarrel
with their circumstances would naturally arise. But the spirit of
dissatisfaction grew apace, and the burden of the new complaint was:
"We have nought but this manna to look to." The part of the desert
into which the travellers had now penetrated was even more sterile
than Midian. Hitherto the food had been varied somewhat by occasional
fruits and the abundant milk of kine and goats. But pasturage for the
cattle was scanty in the wilderness of Paran, and there were no trees
of any kind. Appetite found nothing that was refreshing. Their soul
was dried away.
It was a common belief in our Lord's time that the manna, falling
from heaven, very food of the angels, had been so satisfying, so
delicious, that no people could have been more favoured than those
who ate of it. When Christ spoke of the meat which endureth unto
eternal life, the thought of His hearers immediately turned to the
manna as the special gift of God to their fathers, and they conceived
an expectation that Jesus would give them that bread of heaven, and
so prove Himself worthy of their faith. But He replied, "Moses gave
you not that bread out of heaven, but My Father giveth you the true
bread out of heaven. I am the Bread of Life."
In the course of time the manna had been, so to speak, glorified.
It appeared to the later generations one of the most wonderful and
impressive things recorded in the whole history of their nation,
this provision made for the wandering host. There was the water from
the rock, and there was the manna. What a benignant Providence had
watched over the tribes! How bountiful God had been to the people in
the old days! They longed for a sign of the same kind. To enjoy it
would restore their faith and put them again in the high position
which had been denied for ages.
But these notions are not borne out by the history as we have it in
the passage under notice. Nothing is said about angels' food--that is
a poetical expression which a psalmist used in his fervour. Here we
read, as to the coming of the manna, that when the dew fell upon the
camp at night the manna fell upon it, or with it. And so far from the
people being satisfied, they complained that instead of the fish and
onions, cucumbers and melons of Egypt, they had nothing but manna to
eat. The taste of it is described as like that of fresh oil. In Exodus
it is said to have resembled wafers mixed with honey. It was not the
privilege of the Israelites in the wilderness but their necessity
to live on this somewhat cloying food. In no sense can it be called
ideal. Nevertheless, complaining about it, they were in serious fault,
betraying the foolish expectation that on the way to liberty they
should have no privations. And their discontent with the manna soon
became alarming to Moses. A sort of hysteria spread through the camp.
Not the women only, but the men at the doors of their tents bewailed
their hard lot. There was a tempest of tears and cries.
God, through His providence, determining for men, carrying out His
own designs for their good, does not allow them to keep in the region
of the usual and of mere comfort. Something is brought into their
life which stirs the soul. In new hope they begin an enterprise
the course and end of which they cannot foresee. The conventional,
the pleasant, the peace and abundance of Egypt, can be no longer
enjoyed if the soul is to have its own. By Moses Jehovah summoned
the Israelites from the land of plenty to fulfil a high mission; and
when they responded, it was so far a proof that there was in them
spirit enough for an uncommon destiny. But for the accomplishment
of it they had to be nerved and braced by trial. Their ordeal was
that mortifying of the flesh and of sensuous desire which must be
undergone if the hopes through which the mind becomes conscious of
the will of God are to be fulfilled.
In our personal history God, reaching us by His word, enlightening us
with regard to the true ends of our being, calls us to begin a journey
which has no earthly terminus and promises no earthly reward. We may
be quite sure that we have not yet responded to His call if there is
nothing of the wilderness in our life, no hardship, no adventure, no
giving up of what is good in a temporal sense for what is good in a
spiritual sense. The very essence of the design of God concerning a man
is that he leave the lower and seek the higher, that he deny himself
that which according to the popular view is his life, in order to seek
a remote and lofty goal. There will be duty that calls for faith, that
needs hope and courage. In doing it he will have recurring trials
of his spirit, necessities of self-discipline, stern difficulties of
choice and action. Every one of these he must face.
What is wrong with many lives is that they have no strain in them
as of a desert journey towards a heavenly Canaan, the realisation
of spiritual life. Adventure, when it is undertaken, is often for
the sake of getting fish and melons and cucumbers by-and-by in
greater abundance and of better kinds. Many live hardly just now,
not because they are on the way to spiritual freedom and the high
destiny of life in God, but because they believe themselves to be on
the way to better social position, to wealth or honour. But take the
life that has begun its high enterprise at the urgency of a Divine
vocation, and that life will find hardness, deprivations, perils, of
its own. It is not given to us to be absolutely certain in decision
and endeavour. Out in the wilderness, even when manna is provided,
and the pillar of cloud seems to show the way, the people of God
are in danger of doubting whether they have done wisely, whether
they have not taken too much upon themselves or laid too much upon
the Lord. The Israelites might have said, We have obeyed God: why,
then, should the sun smite us with burning heat, and the dust-storms
sweep down upon our march, and the night fall with so bitter a
chill? Interminable toil, in travelling, in attending to cattle and
domestic duties, in pitching tents and striking them, gathering
fuel, searching far and wide through the camp for food, helping the
children, carrying the sick and aged, toil that did not cease till
far into the night and had to be resumed with early morning--such,
no doubt, were the things that made life in the wilderness irksome.
And although many now have a lighter burden, yet our social life,
adding new difficulties with every improvement, our domestic affairs,
the continual struggle necessary in labour and business, furnish not
a few causes of irritation and of bitterness. God does not remove
annoyances out of the way even of His devoted servants. We remember
how Paul was vexed and burdened while carrying the world's thought
on into a new day. We remember what a weight the infirmities and
treacheries of men laid upon the heart of Christ.
Let us thank God if we feel sometimes across the wilderness a breeze
from the hills of the heavenly Canaan, and now and then catch
glimpses of them far away. But the manna may seem flat and tasteless,
nevertheless; the road may seem long; the sun may scorch. Tempted to
despond, we need afresh to assure ourselves that God is faithful who
has given us His promise. And although we seem to be led not towards
the heavenly frontier, but often aside through close defiles into
some region more barren and dismal than we have yet crossed, doubt is
not for us. He knoweth the way that we take; when He has tried us, we
shall come forth where He appoints.
From the people we turn to Moses and the strain he had to bear as
leader. Partly it was due to his sense of the wrath of God against
Israel. To a certain extent he was responsible for those he led, for
nothing he had done was apart from his own will. The enterprise was
laid on him as a duty certainly; yet he undertook it freely. Such as
the Israelites were, with that mixed multitude among them, a dangerous
element enough, Moses had personally accepted the leadership of them.
And now the murmuring, the lusting, the childish weeping, fall upon
him. He feels that he must stand between the people and Jehovah. The
behaviour of the multitude vexes him to the soul; yet he must take
their part, and avert, if possible, their condemnation.
The position is one in which a leader of men often finds himself.
Things are done which affront him personally, yet he cannot turn
against the wayward and unbelieving, for, if he did, the cause would
be lost. The Divine judgment of the transgressors falls on him all
the more because they themselves are unaware of it. The burden such
an one has to sustain points directly to the sin-bearing of Christ.
Wounded to the soul by the wrong-doing of men, He had to interpose
between them and the stroke of the law, the judgment of God. And
may not Moses be said to be a type of Christ? The parallel may well
be drawn; yet the imperfect mediation of Moses fell far short of
the perfect mediation of our Lord. The narrative here reflects that
partial knowledge of the Divine character which made the mediation of
Moses human and erring for all its greatness.
For one thing Moses exaggerated his own responsibility. He asked
of God: "Why hast Thou evil entreated Thy servant? Why dost Thou
lay the burden of all this people upon me? Am I their father? Am I
to carry the whole multitude as a father carries his young child
in his bosom?" These are ignorant words, foolish words. Moses is
responsible, but not to that extent. It is fit that he should be
grieved when the Israelites do wrong, but not proper that he should
charge God with laying on him the duty of keeping and carrying them
like children. He speaks unadvisedly with his lips.
Responsibility of those who endeavour to lead others has its limits;
and the range of duty is bounded in two ways--on the one hand by
the responsibility of men for themselves, on the other hand by God's
responsibility for them, God's care of them. Moses should see that no
law or ordinance makes him chargeable with the childish lamentations
of those who know they should not complain, who ought to be manly
and endure with stout hearts. If persons who can go on their own
feet want to be carried, no one is responsible for carrying them.
It is their own fault when they are left behind. If those who can
think and discover duty for themselves, desire constantly to have
it pointed out to them, crave daily encouragement in doing their
duty, and complain because they are not sufficiently considered, the
leader, like Moses, is not responsible. Every man must bear his own
burden--that is, must bear the burden of duty, of thought, of effort,
so far as his ability goes.
Then, on the other side, the power of God is beneath all, His care
extends over all. Moses ought not for a moment to doubt Jehovah's
mindfulness of His people. Men who hold office in society or the
Church are never to think that their effort is commensurate with
God's. Proud indeed he would be who said: "The care of all these
souls lies on me: if they are to be saved, I must save them; if they
perish, I shall be chargeable with their blood." Speaking ignorantly
and in haste, Moses went almost that length; but his error is not to
be repeated. The charge of the Church and of the world is God's; and
He never fails to do for all and for each what is right. The teacher
of men, the leader of affairs, with full sympathy and indefatigable
love, is to do all he can, yet never trench on the responsibility of
men for their own life, or assume to himself the part of Providence.
Moses made one mistake and went on to another. He was on the whole
a man of rare patience and meekness; yet on this occasion he spoke
to Jehovah in terms of daring resentment. His cry was to get rid of
the whole enterprise: "If Thou deal thus with me, kill me, I pray
Thee, out of hand, and let me not see my wretchedness." He seemed to
himself to have this work to do and no other, apparently imagining
that if he was not competent for this, he could be of no use in the
world. But even if he had failed as a leader, highest in office,
he might have been fit enough for a secondary place, under Joshua
or some other whom God might inspire: this he failed to see. And
although he was bound up in Israel's well-being, so that if the
expedition did not prosper he had no wish to live, and was so far
sincerely patriotic, yet what good end could his death serve? The
desire to die shows wounded pride. Better live on and turn shepherd
again. No man is to despise his life, whatever it is, however it may
seem to come short of the high ambition he has cherished as a servant
of God and men. Discovering that in one line of endeavour he cannot
do all he would, let him make trial of others, not pray for death.
The narrative represents God as dealing graciously with his erring
servant. Help was provided for him by the appointment of seventy
elders, who were to share the task of guiding and controlling
the tribes. These seventy were to have a portion of the leader's
spirit--zeal and enthusiasm like his own. Their influence in the
camp would prevent the faithlessness and dejection which threatened
to wreck the Hebrew enterprise. Further, the murmuring of the people
was to be effectually silenced. Flesh was to be given them till
they loathed it. They should learn that the satisfaction of ignorant
desire meant punishment rather than pleasure.