The Paidagogos.
The Tarpeian Rock was the place where Roman criminals who had been
guilty of the crime of treason were executed. They were thrown headlong
from this rock into the valley below, and perished at its base. The rock
took its name from a woman named Tarpeia, who has ever been a disgrace
to her sex, and whose name was hated in Rome, for she was a traitress to
her country. For a long time the war had raged between the Romans and
the Sabines. The Romans were at last compelled to shut themselves up in
their strong fortress, which the Sabines attempted to take, but in vain.
So steep were the rocks on which it stood, so strong were the walls,
that the Sabines must have given up their attempt in despair, had it not
been for the treachery of Tarpeia, the governor's daughter. She looked
down from the fortress into the Sabine host, and she noticed that,
whilst with their right arms the Sabines held their swords, on their
left arms were hung massive golden bracelets, such as Tarpeia had never
beheld before. One day, leaning over the precipice, she managed to
whisper into the ear of a Sabine soldier her treacherous plan. She was
willing in the dead of night to unlock the gate of the fortress, and to
admit the Sabines, provided that they promised on their part to give her
what they carried on their left arms. Tarpeia's proposition was agreed
to, and that night the governor's daughter stole the keys of the
fortress from her father's room, and admitted the enemy.
But the Sabines had too much right feeling to let her treachery go
unpunished. She stood by the gate, hoping to receive the bracelets, but
each Sabine soldier, as he entered, threw at her head his massive iron
shield, which he also carried on his left arm, until she was crushed to
the ground, and buried beneath a mass of metal. They had fulfilled their
promise, but in a way the treacherous Tarpeia did not expect. When she
was quite dead, they took up her body, and threw it over the rock which
ever after bore her name, as a warning to traitors.
Treachery within the camp, those in league with the enemy in the very
midst of the citadel, those who whilst pretending to be friends are
secretly conspiring to hinder and annoy. Surely such a state of things
is enough to move any man's heart. Who could help feeling it bitterly?
David could not. Listen to his heartrending cry--
'For it is not an open enemy, that hath done me this dishonour; for then
I could have borne it. Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify
himself against me; for then I would have hid myself from him. But it
was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend.'
Nehemiah could not help feeling it. He had borne patiently ridicule,
force, deceit from without; whatever of harm or mischief Sanballat did,
he could not help, nor was he surprised at it. But when the trouble came
nearer home, when he found that in Jerusalem itself, amongst those whom
he had loved and for whom he had sacrificed so much, there were actually
to be found traitors, then indeed Nehemiah's soul was stirred to its
very depths.
He discovered to his horror that letters, secret, treacherous letters,
were constantly passing from Tobiah the secretary to some of his
so-called friends in Jerusalem. Nay more, he discovered that these
letters were diligently answered, and that a quick correspondence was
being kept up by Tobiah on the one side and these treacherous Jews on
the other.
Worse still, Nehemiah found that many of those round him were acting as
spies, watching all he did, taking note of every single thing that went
on in Jerusalem, and then writing it down for Tobiah's benefit. And in
spite of this, these Jews had the audacity and the bad taste when they
met Nehemiah in the street, or sat at his table, or came across him in
business, to harp constantly upon one string--the goodness, and
perfections, and excellences of dear Tobiah.
'They reported his good deeds to me, and uttered my words to him.'
Nor was this communication with the secretary at all easy to break off,
for he was connected by marriage with some of the first families in
Jerusalem. Tobiah himself had obtained a Jewish girl for his wife, the
daughter of one of Nehemiah's helpers--Shechaniah, the son of Arah.
Not only so, but Meshullam, one of the wealthiest men in the city, one
of the most earnest builders on the wall, one who had worked so
diligently that he had actually repaired two portions (chap. iii. 4,
30), one who must have been either a priest or a Levite, for we read of
his having a chamber in the temple, this man, Meshullam, so well spoken
of, and so much esteemed in Jerusalem, had actually forgotten himself so
far as to let his daughter marry the son of the secretary, Tobiah. We
cannot excuse Meshullam by suggesting that his daughter may have been
spoilt or wilful, and may have married in spite of her father's
displeasure, for, in the East, marriages are entirely arranged by the
parents, and Meshullam's daughter probably had no choice in the matter.
Seeing then that there are enemies without, and half-hearted friends
within, Nehemiah feels it necessary, so soon as the walls are finished
and the gates set up, to do all he can to make Jerusalem secure and
strong. Solomon had appointed 212 Levites to be porters or gate-keepers,
to guard the entrances to the temple. Ever since his time there had been
an armed body of Levites, kept always at hand, to guard the treasures of
the temple, and to keep watch at the gates. From these Nehemiah selects
the keepers for his new gates. Surely these Levites will be faithful,
and they have had some experience in watching, inasmuch as they have for
so long acted as temple police.
Nehemiah's next step was to appoint two men to superintend these guards,
and to be responsible to him for the safety of the city. At any moment
he might be recalled to Persia, at any moment he might have to leave
his important work in Jerusalem, that he might stand again as cup-bearer
behind the king's chair. He felt that he must therefore appoint deputies
to guard the city for him, so that all might not hang upon the fact of
his presence in the city.
Whom did Nehemiah choose for this post of enormous trust? One was his
brother Hanani, the very one who had come to see him in Persia. Why, he
would never have even thought of doing this great work, if it had not
been for Hanani; and he felt he could thoroughly trust him, and rely
upon him entirely.
His other choice was Hananiah, the ruler of the palace or the fort,
which was a tower, standing in the temple courts on the spot on which,
in Roman days, stood the Tower of Antonia. Nehemiah tells us exactly why
he made choice of the man Hananiah.
'He was a faithful man, and feared God above many.'
He was a faithful man, thoroughly trustworthy and reliable. He feared
God above many, and therefore Nehemiah knew that he would be kept safe
and free from sin. 'So did not I,' he had said of himself, 'because of
the fear of God; that fear held me back from sin,' and he felt sure it
would be the same with Hananiah. He feared God, and therefore he could
be depended upon.
These two rulers, Hanani and Hananiah, planned out the defence of the
city. They divided the wall amongst all the men in Jerusalem, holding
each man responsible for the safety of that part of the wall which lay
nearest to his own house. Then, by Nehemiah's orders, they saw that the
guards took care that the gates were not only carefully closed every
night, but that they were kept closed till the sun was hot, that is,
till some hours after sunrise. These orders were most necessary, seeing
that there were traitors inside the gates as well as enemies without.
It was the sixth month of the Jewish year when the walls were finished.
Then came Tisri, the seventh month, the greatest and grandest of the
months. The Jews say that God made the world in the month Tisri, and in
it they have no less than two feasts and one great fast.
On the first day of the month Tisri was held the Feast of Trumpets, or
the day of blowing. On that day trumpets or horns were blown all day
long in Jerusalem; on the house-tops, and from the courts and gardens,
as well as from the temple.
Obedient to the voice of the trumpets, at early dawn the people all
gathered together, and stood by the water-gate, in a large open space
suitable for such a gathering. This gate is supposed to have been
somewhere at the south-east of the temple courts, and to have taken its
name from the fact that through it the temple servants, the Nethinims
and the Gibeonites, carried water from the dragon well into the city.
Here a huge pulpit had been erected, not such a pulpit as we find in our
churches, but such an one as is to be seen in the synagogues of
Jerusalem, a pulpit as large as a small room, and capable of holding a
large number of persons.
The pulpit by the water-gate was a raised platform, made for the
purpose. In it stood Ezra the scribe, and beside him stood thirteen of
the chief men of Jerusalem. Meshullam was there; but one man was
conspicuous by his absence. Eliashib, the high priest, who should
surely have been found taking a principal part in the solemn service of
the day, was nowhere to be seen.
Before the great pulpit was gathered together an enormous crowd, men,
women, and children, all those who were old enough to understand
anything having been brought there, that they might listen to all that
went on.
It was early in the morning, soon after sunrise, when the great company
met together. The blowing of the trumpets ceased, and there was brought
out by a Levite an old roll of parchment. What was it? It was the Book
of the Law, the Bible of Nehemiah's day, consisting of the five books of
Moses.
Slowly and reverently Ezra unrolled the law in the sight of all the
people; and they, sitting below, watched him, and as soon as the book
was opened they stood up, to show their respect and their reverence for
the Word of God.
Then the reading began, and the ears of all the people were attentive to
the book of the law. For no less than six hours Ezra read on, from early
morning until midday, yet still the people stood, still the people
listened attentively. There was no stir in the crowd, no one asked what
time it was, there was no shuffling of feet, no yawning, no fidgeting;
in earnest, fixed attention the people listened.
As Ezra read, a body of Levites went about amongst the crowd,
translating what he said. So long had the people lived in captivity that
some of them had forgotten the old Hebrew, or had been brought up from
children to talk the Chaldean tongue. Thus many of Ezra's words and
phrases were quite unintelligible to them. So the Levites acted as
interpreters; and besides explaining the words, they also opened out
the meaning of what was read.
'The Levites caused the people to understand the law: and the people
stood in their place. So they read in the book in the law of God
distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the
reading.'
And at the end of six hours there came tears--there was not a dry eye in
the crowd--men and women alike wept like children. There was Ezra in his
pulpit, his voice faltering as he read, and there were the people below,
sobbing as they heard the words.
What was the matter? What had filled them with grief? St. Paul tells us
the secret of their tears (Rom. iii. 20).
'By the law is the knowledge of sin.'
You draw a line. How shall you know if it be straight or not? Lay the
ruler beside it, and you will soon find out its crookedness.
You build a wall. How shall you tell if it be perpendicular? Bring the
plumb-line, put it against it, and you will soon find out where the wall
bulges.
You take up a drawing of wood, and hill, and tree; how shall you know if
it be correctly sketched? Put beside it the master's copy, look from one
to another, and you will soon discover the mistakes and imperfections of
the pupil.
Take the perfect law of God, lay it beside your own life, as these
people did, you will find out exactly what they found. You will find
that you are a sinner, that you have left undone what ought to have been
done, that you have done what ought not to have been done, and that you
yourself are full of sin.
'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy
mind, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength.'
Have you done that? No! Then you are not like the copy.
'Ye shall diligently keep the commandments of the Lord thy God.'
Have you done that? No! Then you are not like the copy.
So felt the company at the water-gate, as they listened to the word that
day. And with the knowledge came tears, bitter, sorrowful tears, as they
thought of the past. Each man, woman, and child amongst them was ready
to cry out
'Red like crimson, deep as scarlet,
Scarlet of the deepest dye,
Are the manifold transgressions,
That upon my conscience lie.
God alone can count their number,
God alone can look within,
O the sinfulness of sinning,
O the guilt of every sin!'
Some years ago there lived in Jerusalem a Scripture reader. He was an
Austrian Jew, and he worked amongst the large Jewish population in
Jerusalem. That man had been brought up to a very curious occupation.
For years he had maintained himself in a very strange way. His business
was this--to take children to school every morning, and to bring them
home again in the evening. Each morning he called at the various houses,
he led the children out, he carried the little ones, some on his back
and some in his arms, he chastised with a stick those who were inclined
to play truant, and he landed them all safely at the school-door.
St. Paul, when he went to the Rabbi's school in Tarsus, was taken there
by just such a man as that, a man who was paid by his parents to drive
him to school regularly, and to see that he arrived there in good time.
This man was called in his day a Paidagogos, or Boy-driver.
Years afterwards, when the apostle was writing to the Galatians, he
remembered his old Paidagogos, and he used him as an illustration. He
said, in his epistle, that that boy-driver was like the law of God; just
what the Paidagogos had done for him, that also the Word of God had
done. That man had driven him to the school of the Rabbi, the law of God
had driven him to the school of Christ. 'The law was our schoolmaster to
bring us unto Christ.'
The word schoolmaster does not mean the man who teaches, but it is this
very word Paidagogos or Boy-driver.
How, then, does the law of God drive us to Christ? Because it makes us
feel that we need saving, that we are sinners and cannot help ourselves,
that if ever we are to see the inside of the golden gates of heaven, it
must be by learning in the school of Christ, by learning to know Him as
our Saviour, our atonement, our all in all.
Lord, save me, or I perish, for I cannot save myself! All my
righteousness is as filthy rags, I myself am full of sin. There is no
hope for me except in Thee!
So the Law is our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ.