CHAPTER VIII

FOUR CHARACTERISTICS

Of the other characteristics of Oriental speech, I wish to speak of

four before I bring this part of my book to a close.

The first, the many and picturesque dialects. The entire absence of

the public school, the scarcity of other educational institutions, as

well as of books and periodicals, and the extreme slowness of

transportation, have always tended to perpetuate the multitude of

dialects in the speech of the Syrian people. The common language of

the land is the Arabic, which is divided into two types--the classical

and the common, or the language of learning and that of daily speech.

The classical language is one, but the common language is a labyrinth

of dialects. Each section of that small country has its _lehjah_

(accent), and it is no exaggeration to say that each town within those

sections has a _lehjah_ of its own. Certain letters of the {176}

alphabet are also sounded differently in different localities. Thus,

for an example, the word for "stood" is pronounced _qam_ in certain

localities, and _aam_ in others. The word for "male" is pronounced

_zeker_ by some communities, and _deker_ by others.

That such a state of things prevailed also in ancient Israel and in New

Testament times is very evident. In the twelfth chapter of the Book of

Judges we have the record of a fight between the Gileadites and the

Ephraimites, in which we find the following statement: "And the

Gileadites took the passages of Jordan before the Ephraimites: and it

was so, that when those Ephraimites which were escaped said, Let me go

over; that the men of Gilead said unto him, Art thou an Ephraimite? If

he said, Nay; then said they unto him, Say now Shibboleth: and he said

Sibboleth: _for he could not frame to pronounce it right_. Then they

took him, and slew him."

This simple means of identification might be used in present-day Syria

with equal success.

{177}

In the fourteenth chapter of St. Mark's Gospel we have another striking

illustration of this characteristic of Oriental speech, in Peter's

experience in the palace of the high priest. In the fifty-third verse

it is said: "And they led Jesus away to the high priest: and with him

were assembled all the chief priests and the elders and the scribes.

And Peter followed him afar off, even into the palace of the high

priest." The record continues (verses 66-71): "And as Peter was

beneath in the palace, there cometh one of the maids of the high

priest: and when she saw Peter warming himself, she looked upon him,

and said, And thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth. But he denied,

saying, I know not, neither understand I what thou sayest. And he went

out into the porch.... And a little after, they that stood by said

again to Peter, Surely thou art one of them: for thou art a Galilaean,

_and thy speech agreeth thereto_.[1] But he began to curse and to

swear, saying, I know not this man of whom ye speak."

{178}

Poor Peter! the more he swore and cursed the more clearly he revealed

his identity. His cowardice might have concealed him, but for his

dialect. He spoke the dialect of Galilee in the city of Jerusalem, and

so far as the identification of his person was concerned, even a

certificate from the authorities of the town of his birth, testifying

to his being a native of Galilee, could not have so effectively served

that purpose.

The second characteristic is the juvenile habit of imploring "in season

and out of season" when asking a favor. To try to exert "undue"

influence, virtually to beg in most persuasive tones, is an Oriental

habit which to an American must seem unendurable. Of the many

illustrations of this custom which fill my memory I will relate the

following incident, which I once heard a man relate to my father.

This man had bought, for six hundred piasters, a piece of land which

had been given as a _nezer_ (vow) to our Greek Orthodox Church. After

he had given his note for the {179} sum and secured the deed, it

occurred to him that the price was too high, and, being himself a son

of the Church, that he ought to secure the land for four hundred

piasters. So, as he stated, he went to Beyrout, the seat of our

bishop, where he stayed three days. By constant petitioning, he

secured the privilege of interviewing the bishop four times on the

subject. With great glee he stated that at the last interview he

refused to rise from his seat at the feet of that long-suffering

ecclesiastic until his petition was granted.

One of the most striking examples of this characteristic is the parable

of the unrighteous judge, in the eighteenth chapter of Luke. "There

was in a city a judge, which feared not God, neither regarded man: and

there was a widow in that city, and she came unto him saying, Avenge me

[the original is "do me justice"] of mine adversary. And he would not

for a while: but afterward he said within himself, Though I fear not

God, nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me, I will {180}

avenge her, _lest by her continual coming she weary me_."

Here is a case--by no means a rare exception in that country--where a

judge rendered a verdict against his own best judgment in sheer

self-defense. And I must say that, knowing such Oriental tendencies as

I do, especially as manifested by widows, I am in deep sympathy with

the judge.

Yet it was this very persistence in petitioning the Father of all men

which gave mankind the lofty psalms and tender prayers of our

Scriptures. It was this persistent filial pleading and imploring which

made Israel turn again and again to the "God of righteousness" and say,

"We have sinned," and ask for a deeper revealing of his ways to them.

Job's cry, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him," may not be the

proper language of modern etiquette, but it certainly is the language

of religion. In the very parable just quoted, Jesus recommends to his

disciples the insistence of the widow as a means to draw the

benediction of heaven upon {181} them, and to secure for them

justification at the hands of the righteous judge. Honest seekers

after spiritual gifts should not be averse to imitating this Oriental

trait. They should never be afraid to come to their Father again and

again for his gracious blessing, or refrain from "storming the gates of

heaven with prayer."

The third characteristic of Oriental speech is its intimacy and

unreserve. Mere implications which are so common to reserved and

guarded speech leave a void in the Oriental heart. It is because of

this that the Orientals have always craved "signs and wonders," and

interpreted natural phenomena in terms of direct miraculous

communications from God to convince them that He cared for them.

Although Gideon was speaking with Jehovah Himself, who promised to help

him to save his kinsmen from the Midianites, he asked for a more

tangible, more definite sign. We are told in the sixth chapter of

Judges, thirty-sixth verse: "And Gideon said unto God, If thou wilt

save Israel by mine hand, as thou hast spoken, behold, I will put a

{182} fleece of wool on the threshing-floor; if there be dew on the

fleece only, and it be dry upon all the ground, then shall I know that

thou wilt save Israel by mine hand, as thou hast spoken. And it was

so." But Gideon, still unsatisfied, speaks again in childlike

simplicity and intimacy; "Let not thine anger be kindled against me,

and I will speak but this once: let me make trial, I pray thee, but

this once with the fleece; let it now be dry only upon the fleece, and

upon all the ground let there be dew. And God did so that night."

It is not at all uncommon for old and tried friends in Syria to give

and ask for affectionate assurances, that they do love one another.

Such expressions are the wine of life. Especially when new confidences

are exchanged or great favors asked, a man turns with guileless eyes to

his trusted friend and says, "Now you love me; I say you love me, don't

you?" "My soul, my eyes," answers the other, "you know what is in my

heart toward you; you know and the Creator knows!" Then the request is

made. {183} One of the noblest and tenderest passages in the New

Testament, a passage whose spirit has fed the strength of the Christian

missionaries throughout the ages, is that portion of the twenty-first

chapter of St. John's Gospel where Jesus speaks to Peter in this

intimate Syrian fashion. How sweet and natural it sounds to a son of

the East! "So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon,

son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" How characteristic also is Peter's

answer, "Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee." Then came the

precious request, "Feed my lambs." Three times did the affectionate

Master knock at the door of Peter's heart, till the poor impetuous

disciple cried, "Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I

love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep."

The fourth characteristic of Oriental speech is its unqualified

positiveness. Outside the small circles of Europeanized Syrians, such

qualifying phrases as "in my opinion," "so it seems to me," "as I see

it," and the like, are {184} almost entirely absent from Oriental

speech. The Oriental is never so cautious in his speech as a certain

American editor of a religious paper, who in speaking of Cain described

him as "the _alleged_ murderer of Abel"! Such expressions, also, are

rarely used in the Bible, and then only in the New Testament, in which

Greek influence plays no small part. Thus in the seventh chapter of

his second Epistle to the Corinthians, Paul, in giving his opinion on

marriage said, "_I suppose_, therefore, that this is good for the

present distress," and so forth. I am not aware that this form of

speech is used anywhere in the entire Old Testament.

The language of the Oriental is that of sentiment and conviction, and

not of highly differentiated and specialized thought. When you say to

him, "I think this object is beautiful," if he does not think it is so,

he says, "No, it is not beautiful." Although he is expressing his own

individual opinion, he does not take the trouble to make that perfectly

clear: if an object is not beautiful to him, it _is not_ beautiful.

{185}

From an intellectual and social standpoint, this mode of speech may be

considered a serious defect. So do children express themselves. But

it should be kept in mind that the Oriental mind is that of the prophet

and the seer, and not of the scientist and the philosopher. It is the

mind which has proven the most suitable transmissive agency of divine

revelation.

When the seer beholds a vision of the things that are eternal, he

cannot speak of it as a supposition or a guess, or transmit it with

intellectual caution and timidity. "Thus saith the Lord." "The word

of the Lord came unto me saying, Son of man, prophesy." When we speak

of the deepest realities of life, we do not beset our utterances with

qualifying phrases. True love, deep sorrow, a real vision of spiritual

things transcend all speculative speech; they press with irresistible

might for direct and authoritative expression.

Take for an example Jesus' matchless declaration: "The Spirit of the

Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the {186} gospel

[glad tidings] to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted,

to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the

blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the

acceptable year of the Lord."[2] How would this great utterance sound

if given in the nice, cautious language of an "up-to-date" thinker?

What force would it carry if put in this form, "It seems to me,

although I may be entirely mistaken, that something like what may be

termed the 'Spirit of the Lord' is upon me, and I feel that, in my own

limited way, I must preach the Gospel"?

Of course reckless, dogmatic assertions from the pulpit are never wise

nor profitable. Ultimately, whether in the realms of science or

spiritual experience, the facts are the things which will count.

Nevertheless, it must be admitted that the modern pulpit suffers to a

large extent from overcautiousness. By many ministers the facts are

evaluated more in an intellectual than in a spiritual sense. Hence

that {187} cautiousness in utterance which is seriously threatening the

spirit of prophecy and the authority of real spiritual _experience_ in

the religious teachers of the present day. Legitimate intellectual

caution should never be allowed to degenerate into spiritual timidity,

nor the knowledge of outward things to put out the prophetic fire in

the soul. There is, no doubt, much food for thought in the following

legend. It is said of a preacher, who was apparently determined not to

make "rash statements," that in speaking to his people on repentance he

had this for his final word: "If you do not repent, as it were, and be

converted, in a measure, you will be damned, to a certain extent." The

congregation that has such a preacher is damned already! And I

perceive some difference between such a preacher and Him who says,

"Verily, I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little

children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."[3]

This seeming weakness in Oriental speech {188} and in the Bible is in

reality tremendous spiritual strength. Through our sacred Scriptures

we hear the voices of those great Oriental prophets who spoke as they

saw and felt; as seers, and not as logicians. And it was indeed most

fortunate for the world that the Bible was written in an age of

instinctive listening to the divine Voice, and in a country whose

juvenile modes of speech protected the "rugged maxims" of the

Scriptures from the weakening influences of an overstrained

intellectualism.

[1] See also Matt. xxvi: 73.

[2] Luke iv: 18.

[3] Matt. xviii: 3.

{191}

PART III

BREAD AND SALT

CHAPTER I

THE SACRED 'AISH

To an Oriental the phrase "bread and salt" is of sacred import. The

saying, "There is bread and salt between us," which has been prevalent

in the East from time immemorial, is equal to saying, "We are bound

together by a solemn covenant." To say of one that he "knows not the

significance of bread and salt" is to stigmatize him as a base ingrate.

A noble foe refuses to "taste the salt" of his adversary--that is, to

eat with him--so long as he feels disinclined to be reconciled to him.

Such a foe dreads the thought of repudiating the covenant which the

breaking of bread together forms. In the rural districts of Syria,

much more than in the cities, is still observed the ancient custom that

a man on an important mission should not eat his host's bread until the

errand is made known. The covenant of "bread and salt" should not be

entered into {192} before the attitude of the host toward his guest's

mission is fully known. If the request is granted, then the meal is

enjoyed as a fraternal affirmation of the agreement just made. So in

the twenty-fourth chapter of the Book of Genesis we are told that

Abraham's servant, who had gone to Mesopotamia, "unto the city of

Nahor," to bring a wife of his master's kindred to his son Isaac,

refused to eat at Laban's table before he had told his errand. With

characteristic Oriental hospitality the brother of Rebekah, after

hearing his sister's story, sought Abraham's faithful servant, "and,

behold, he stood by the camels at the well. And he said, Come in, thou

blessed of the Lord; wherefore standest thou without? for I have

prepared the house, and room for the camels. And the man came into the

house.... And there was set meat before him to eat: but he said, _I

will not eat, until I have told mine errand_."[1] The errand having

been told, "the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of

gold, and raiment, and {193} gave them to Rebekah.... _And they did

eat and drink_, he and the men that were with him."[2]

Of all his enemies, the writer of the forty-first Psalm considered the

"familiar friend" who went back on his simple covenant to be the worst.

"Yea," he cries, mournfully, "mine own familiar friend, in whom I

trusted, which did eat my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me."

As the son of a Syrian family I was brought up to think of bread as

possessing a mystic sacred significance. I never would step on a piece

of bread fallen in the road, but would pick it up, press it to my lips

for reverence, and place it in a wall or some other place where it

would not be trodden upon.

What always seemed to me to be one of {194} the noblest traditions of

my people was their reverence for the _'aish_ (bread; literally, "the

life-giver"). While breaking bread together we would not rise to

salute an arriving guest, whatever his social rank. Whether spoken or

not, our excuse for not rising and engaging in the cordial Oriental

salutation before the meal was ended, was our reverence for the food

(_hirmetel-'aish_). We could, however, and always did, invite the

newcomer most urgently to partake of the repast.

At least once each year, for many years, I carried the _korban_ (the

bread offering) to the _mizbeh_ (altar of sacrifice) in our village

church, as an offering for the repose of the souls of our dead as well

as for our own spiritual security. Bread was one of the elements of

the holy Eucharist. The mass always closed with the handing by the

priest to the members of the congregation of small pieces of

consecrated bread. The Gospel taught us also that Christ was the

"bread of life."

The _'aish_ was something more than mere {195} matter. Inasmuch as it

sustained life, it was God's own life made tangible for his child, man,

to feed upon. The Most High himself fed our hunger. Does not the

Psalmist say, "Thou openest thine hand, and satisfieth the desire of

every living thing"? Where else could our daily bread come from?

[1] Verses 30-33.

[2] Verses 53-54. The word "drink," which is frequently used in the

Bible in connection with the word "eat," does not necessarily refer to

wine drinking. The expression "food and drink" is current in Syria,

and means simply "board." An employer says to an employee, "I will pay

you so much wages, and your food and drink" (aklek washirbek). The

drink may be nothing but water.

{196}

CHAPTER II

"OUR DAILY BREAD"

I have often heard it said by "up-to-date" religionists in this country

that the saying in the Lord's Prayer, "Give us this day our daily

bread," was at best a beggar's lazy petition. It has been suggested

that those words should be omitted from the prayer, because they

pertain to "material things." And at any rate we can get our daily

bread only by working for it.

Yes; and the Oriental understands all that. But he perceives also that

by working for his daily bread he does not _create_ it, but simply

_finds_ it. The prayer, "Give us this day our daily bread" is a note

of pure gratitude to the "Giver of all good and perfect gifts." The

Oriental does not know "material things" as the Occidental knows them.

To him organic chemistry does not take the place of God. He is, in his

totality, God-centered. His center of gravity is the altar and not the

factory, and back {197} of his prayer for daily bread is the momentum

of ages of mystic contemplation. The Oriental finds kinship, not with

those who go for their daily bread no farther than the bakery, but with

the writer of this modern psalm:--

"Back of the loaf is the snowy flour,

Back of the flour the mill;

Back of the mill is the wheat and the shower

And the sun and the Father's will."

It is not my purpose to exaggerate the piety and moral rectitude of the

Oriental. I am fully aware of the fact that he is lamentably lacking

in his efforts to rise to the height of his noblest traditions.

Nevertheless, those who know the Oriental's inner life know also that

from seed-time until harvest, and until the bread is placed upon the

family board, this man's attitude toward the "staff of life" is

essentially religious. In the name of God he casts the seed into the

soil; in the name of God he thrusts the sickle into the ripe harvest;

in the name of God he scatters his sheaves on the threshing floor and

grinds his grain at the mill; and in the name of {198} God his wife

kneads the dough, bakes the bread, and serves it to her family.

In my childhood days "kneading-day" at our house was always of peculiar

significance to me. I had no toys or story-books to engage my

attention, and it was with the greatest interest that I watched my

mother go through the process of kneading. Her pious words and actions

made kneading a sort of religious service.

After making the sign of the cross and invoking the Holy Name, she drew

the required quantity of flour out of a small opening near the bottom

of the earthen barrel in which the precious meal was stored. It was

out of such a barrel that the widow of "Zarephath which belongeth to

Zidon" drew the "handful of meal" she had, and made of it a cake for

Elijah, for which favor the fiery prophet prayed that the widow's

barrel of meal "shall not waste."

Then my mother packed the flour in the shape of a crescent on one side

of the large earthen _maajan_ (kneading basin) which is about thirty

inches in diameter. She dissolved the {199} salt in warm water, which

she poured in the basin by the embankment of flour. Then with a "God

bless" she took out the leaven--a lump of dough saved from the former

baking--which she had buried in flour to keep it "from corruption,"

that is, from overfermentation. This leaven she dissolved carefully in

the salt water, and by slowly mixing the meal with this fluid, she

"hid" the leaven in the meal. It was this process which Jesus

mentioned very briefly in the parable of the leaven in the thirteenth

chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. "The kingdom of heaven is like unto

leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the

whole was leavened."

The kneading done, my mother smoothed the surface of the blessed lump,

dipped her hand in water, and with the edge of her palm marked a deep

cross the whole length of the diameter of the basin, crossed herself

three times, while she muttered an invocation, and then covered the

basin and left the dough to rise. The same pious attitude was resumed

{200} when the raised dough was made into small loaves, during the

baking, and whenever the mother of the family put her hand into the

basin where the loaves were kept, to take out bread for her family's

needs.

Does it now seem strange, unnatural, or in any way out of harmony with

the trend of her whole life, for such a woman to pray, "Give us this

day our daily bread"? Shall we receive the gifts and forget the Giver?

However circuitous our way to our daily bread may be, the fact remains

that we do feed on God's own life. "The earth is the Lord's and the

fullness thereof."

The use of iron stoves was unknown to the Syrians in my childhood days;

and this modern convenience is now used only by some of the well-to-do

people in the large cities. The rank and file of the people, as in the

days of ancient Israel, still bake their bread at semi-public ovens, a

few of which are found in every village and town. This baking-place is

mentioned often in the Bible, but the word "oven" in the English

translation is somewhat misleading. It {201} is so because the

_tennûr_ (translated "oven" in the Bible) is unknown to the

English-speaking world, if not to the entire Occident. The _tennûr_ is

a huge earthen tube about three feet in diameter and about five feet

long; it is sunk in the ground within a small, roughly constructed hut.

The women bake their bread at the _tennûr_ in turn, certain days being

assigned to certain families. The one baking comprises from one

hundred to two hundred loaves. The fuel, which consists of small

branches of trees, and of thistles and straw, is thrown into the

_tennûr_ in large quantities. It is to this that Jesus alludes in the

passage, "If then God so clothe the grass which is to-day in the field,

and to-morrow is _cast into the oven_, how much more will he clothe

you, O ye of little faith?"

When I recall the sight of a burning _tennûr_, I do not find it

difficult to imagine what the old theologians meant by the "burning

pit." The billows of black smoke, pierced at intervals by tongues of

flame issuing from the deep hole, convert the chimneyless hut into an

active {202} crater. No one who has seen such a sight can fail to

understand what the prophet Malachi meant when he exclaimed, "For,

behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud,

yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble."[1] And no one who

has seen that little hut, virtually plastered with the blackest soot,

can fail to understand the full meaning of that passage in the fifth

chapter of the Book of Lamentations, the tenth verse, which says, "Our

skin was black like an oven, because of the terrible famine."

A large baking is a source of pride as well as a means of security. A

Syrian housewife is proud to have the oven all to herself for a whole

day. It is a disgrace--nay, a curse--to have a small baking, or to buy

bread in small quantity, "one weight" at a time. One of the terrible

threats to Israel, recorded in the twenty-sixth chapter of the Book of

Leviticus, the twenty-sixth verse, is this: "When I have broken the

staff of your bread, ten women shall {203} bake your bread in one oven,

and they shall deliver you your bread again by weight: and ye shall eat

and not be satisfied." My mother often admonished us to be thankful

that we were not like those who had to buy their bread by weight--that

is, in small quantities.

But this saying, "and they shall deliver you your bread again by

weight," may mean also the weighing of the portions delivered to the

various members of the family, in order that no one may receive more

than any other, and that the scanty supply of food may be more

carefully doled out. However, probably because no real famine ever

occurred in Syria within my memory, I never knew of the actual

resorting, within the family circle, to such severe restrictions in the

distribution of the daily food. A similar practice, however, prevails

among the Arab tribes in sharing their meager supply of water, while

traveling in the desert. In order to insure equality, a pebble is

placed in the bottom of a small wooden cup into which the water is

poured. The draught {204} which each traveler receives at long

intervals is "the covering of the pebble," that is, only the quantity

of water needed just to cover the pebble in the cup.

[1] Mal. iv: 1.

{205}

CHAPTER III

"COMPEL THEM TO COME IN"

The hospitality of Orientals is proverbial the world over. And while

some Westerners have an exaggerated idea of Oriental generosity, the

son of the East is not unjustly famous for his readiness to offer to

wayfarers the shelter of his roof and his bread and salt. The person

who fails to extend such hospitality brings reproach, not only upon

himself, but upon his whole clan and town.

But whether hospitality is extended to strangers or to friends, it is

the man who entertains, and not the woman. The invitation is extended

in the name of the husband alone, or, if the husband is not living, in

the name of the eldest son. In the case of a widow who has no male

children, a man relative is asked to act as host. The man of the house

should not allow a wayfarer to pass him without offering him a "morsel

of bread to sustain his heart." So did {206} Abraham of old extend

hospitality to the three mysterious strangers who came upon him "in the

plains of Mamre," as stated in the eighteenth chapter of Genesis, the

second and following verses, "And he lift up his eyes and looked, and,

lo, three men stood by him: and when he saw them, he ran to meet them

from the tent door, and bowed himself toward the ground, and said, My

Lord, if now I have found favor in thy sight, pass not away, I pray

thee, from thy servant; ... and I will fetch a morsel of bread, and

comfort ye your hearts: after that ye shall pass on."

How natural and how truly Syrian all this sounds! Sarah was not at all

slighted because Abraham did not say, "Sarah and I will be glad to have

you stop for lunch with us, if you can." On the contrary, she was

greatly honored by not being mentioned in the invitation.

We have another striking illustration of this Syrian custom in the

parable of the prodigal son, in the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke's

Gospel. Here we are told that, when the wayward {207} boy returned to

his father's house, desolate but penitent, it was the father who ran

out to meet the son and "fell on his neck, and kissed him." It was the

father who said to his servants, "Bring forth the best robe, and put it

on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet; and bring

hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry." I

know well that the mother of the prodigal could not have been less

affectionate nor less effusive in her welcome to her poor son than his

father was. But in harmony with the best traditions of the East, and

without the least intention of slighting the good mother, the record

takes no notice of her.

It should be stated here that the prominent mention in the Gospels of

Mary and Martha as Jesus' friends and entertainers is due to the fact

that to those women the Master was not merely a _guest_, but a _saint_,

nay, the "promised One of Israel." As such Jesus was a privileged

personage. Yet--and it is not at all strange in view of Oriental

customs--Jesus took with him none of his women friends and disciples on

such {208} great occasions as the Transfiguration and the Last Supper.

To extend hospitality in genuine Syrian fashion is no small

undertaking. Brevity on such occasions is the soul of stinginess.

Oriental effusiveness and intensity of speech are never more

strenuously exercised than at such times. The brief form of the

American invitation, "I should be pleased to have you dine with us, if

you can," however sincere, would seem to an Oriental like an excuse to

escape the obligation of hospitality. Again, the ready acceptance of

an invitation in the West would seem to the son of the East utterly

undignified. Although the would-be guest could accept, he must be as

insistent in saying, "No, I can't," as the would-be host in saying,

"Yes, you must."

Approaching his hoped-for guest, a Syrian engages him in something like

the following dialogue, characterized by a glow of feeling which the

translation can only faintly reveal:--

"Ennoble us [_sherrifna_] by your presence."

{209}

"I would be ennobled [_nitsherref_] but I cannot accept."

"That cannot be."

"Yea, yea, it must be."

"No, I swear against you [_aksim 'aleik_] by our friendship and by the

life of God. I love just to acquaint you with my bread and salt."

"I swear also that I find it impossible [_gheir mimkin_] to accept.

Your bread and salt are known to all."

"Yea, do it just for our own good. By coming to us you come to your

own home. Let us repay your bounty to us [_fadhlek_]."

"_Astaghfero Allah_ [by the mercy of God] I have not bestowed any

bounty upon you worth mentioning."

Here the host seizes his guest by the arm and with an emphatic, "I

_will not_ let you go," pulls at him and would drag him bodily into his

house. Then the guest, happy in being vanquished "with honor,"

consents to the invitation.

Do you now understand fully the meaning {210} of the passage in the

fourteenth chapter of Luke's Gospel? "A certain man made a great

supper, and bade many ... and they all with one consent began to make

excuse.... And the Lord said unto the servant, Go out into the

highways and hedges, and _compel_ them to come in, that my house may be

filled."[1] So also did Lydia, "a seller of purple, of the city of

Thyatira," invite the apostles, who had converted her to the new faith.

In the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Acts, the fifteenth verse, Paul

says, "And when she was baptized, and her household, she besought us,

saying, If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my

house, and abide there. _And she constrained us_."

In the interior towns and villages of Syria the ancient custom still

prevails that, when a stranger arrives in a town late in the day, he

goes and sits in the "open space" (_saha_). While not designed to be

so, this open space corresponds to the village common. In the English

Bible it is called "the street." Streets, however, {211} are unknown

to Syrian towns. Sitting in the _saha_, the stranger is the guest of

the whole village. The citizen who first sees such a wayfarer must

invite him to his home in real Syrian fashion. Failing in this, he

brings disgrace, not only upon himself, but upon the whole town. It is

needless to say that no people ever rise to the height of their ideals,

and that failure to be "given to hospitality" occurs, even in the East.

In the nineteenth chapter of the Book of Judges we have the record of a

stranger who sat in the _saha_ of a certain village, but was not

offered the usual hospitality very readily. This man was a Levite,

and, with his wife, servant, and a couple of asses, was on his way from

Bethlehem "toward the side of Mount Ephraim." "And the sun went down

upon them when they were by Gibeah, which belongeth to Benjamin. And

they turned aside thither, to go in and to lodge in Gibeah: and when he

went in, he sat him down in a street of the city; for there was no man

that took them into his house to lodging. And, behold, there came an

old man from {212} his work out of the field at even.... And when he

had lifted up his eyes, he saw a wayfaring man in the street of the

city: and the old man said, Whither goest thou? and whence comest

thou? And he said unto him, We are passing from Bethlehem-Judah toward

the side of Mount Ephraim ... but I am now going to the house of the

Lord; and there is no man that receiveth me to house."

And in order to add to the shame of the inhospitable village the

stranger adds, "Yet there is both straw and provender for our asses;

and there is bread and wine also for me, and for thy handmaid [the

wife], and for the young man which is with thy servants: there is no

want of any thing." What a rebuke to that community!

"And the old man said, Peace be with thee; howsoever let all thy wants

lie upon me; _only lodge not in the street_. So he brought him into

his house, and gave provender unto the asses: and they washed their

feet, and did eat and drink."

The old man saved the name of the town.

{213}

One of the noblest and most tender utterances of Job is the

thirty-second verse of the thirty-first chapter. Here the afflicted

patriarch, in pleading his own cause before the Most High, says, "The

stranger did not lodge in the street, but I opened my doors to the

traveller."

Syrian rules of hospitality make it improper for a householder to ask a

guest who has suddenly come to him such a question as "Have you had

your lunch?" before putting food before him. The guest, even though he

has not had the meal asked about by the host, considers it below his

dignity to make the fact known. Upon the arrival of such a visitor,

the householder greets him with the almost untranslatable words,

"_Ahlan wa sahlan_." Literally translated, these words are "kindred

and smooth ground"; which, elucidated further, mean, "You have come not

to strangers but to those who would be to you as your kindred are, and

among us you tread smooth and easy ground." And even while the guest

is being yet saluted by the man of the house in the {214} protracted

manner of Oriental greeting, the good wife proceeds to prepare "a

morsel" for the wayfarer, whatever hour of the day or night it may

happen to be. The food then is placed before the guest and he is

"compelled" to eat.

There is in the eleventh chapter of St. Luke's Gospel a parabolic

saying which is uncommonly rich in allusions to Syrian home life.

Beginning with the fifth verse we read: "And he said unto them, Which

of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say

unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine in his

journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him; and he

from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut,

and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee?"

Here we have a man to whom a guest comes at midnight; he must set

something before him, whether the wayfarer is really hungry or not.

The host happens to be short of bread, and he sets out to borrow a few

loaves. Owing to the homogeneous character of life in the East, {215}

borrowing has been developed there into a fine art. The man at the

door asks for three loaves. Three of those thin Syrian loaves is the

average number for one individual's meal. It was for this reason that

the Master used this number in the parable, and not because that was

all the bread the occasion required. For obvious reasons, the host

needed to put before his guest more than the exact number of loaves

necessary for one adult's meal. Perhaps because he is very sleepy, the

man "within" runs counter to the best Syrian traditions in his answer.

His excuse--that because the door is shut he cannot open it and

accommodate his friend--has been a puzzle to a host of Western readers

of the Bible. Could he not have opened the door? Or, as a certain

preacher asked in my hearing, "Could it be possible that the man,

because of fear of robbers in that country, had a sort of combination

lock on his door which could not be easily opened?" The simple fact is

that in Syria as a rule the door of a house is never shut, summer or

winter, until bedtime. The words of my {216} father and mother to me

whenever they thought that I had "remained wakeful"--that is, "stayed

up"--longer than I should after they had gone to bed,--"Shut the door

and go to sleep,"--still ring in my ears. What the man "within" meant

was, not that he could not open the door, but that at such a late hour,

_after the door had been shut_, it was no time to call for such favors

as the neighbor asked for.

"And my children are with me in bed." From this it may be inferred

easily that individual beds and individual rooms are well-nigh unknown

to the common people of Syria. The cushion-mattresses are spread side

by side in the living room, in a line as long as the members of the

family, sleeping close together, require. The father sleeps at one end

of the line, and the mother at the other end, "to keep the children

from rolling from under the cover." So the man was absolutely truthful

when he said by way of an excuse, "My children are with me in bed."

In the remaining portion of this parable, as in that of the unrighteous

judge, Jesus {217} emphasizes, by commending to his disciples, the

Syrian habit of importuning. "I say unto you, though he will not rise

and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity

he will rise and give him as many as he needeth." Again, the Master

gives dignity and elevation to the common customs of his people by

using them as means of approach to high spiritual ideals, when he says,

"And I say unto you, ask and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall

find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."

[1] Verses 16-23.

{218}

CHAPTER IV

DELAYING THE DEPARTING GUEST

The best rules of Syrian hospitality require that when a guest from a

distant town makes it known what day he expects to take his leave, the

host should do his best to trick his visitor into forgetfulness of the

time set, or devise some other means to delay his departure as much as

possible. On the day he wishes to depart, the wayfarer says to his

host, "Your exceeding bounty has covered me, far above my head; may God

perpetuate your house and prolong the lives of your dear ones. May He

enable me some day to reward you for your boundless generosity. And

now I who have been so immersed in the sea of your hospitality [_baher

karamek_] beg you to permit me to depart." Then the host, confessing

his unworthiness of such praise and manifesting great surprise at the

sudden announcement, begs his guest to "take no thought of departing."

The {219} guest insists that he "must go," even though he could stay.

The host says, "Stay, I pray you [_betrajjak_], until you partake of

our noon meal; then you may depart." After the noon meal the host

says, "I beg you to consider that the day is already far spent, and

your journey is long, and the road is dangerous for night travel.

Tarry until the morrow, and then go." The same performance takes place

on the morrow, and perhaps another morrow, until the guest prevails.

In the nineteenth chapter of the Book of Judges, in the story of the

Levite mentioned above, we have a fine example of a generous Syrian

host. His words are so much like those I often heard spoken in Syria

on such occasions that it makes me feel homesick to read them. The

ancient Bethlehemite was entertaining his son-in-law, who had stayed

with them three days, the traditional length of such a visit in the

East. So the record says: "And it came to pass on the fourth day, when

they arose early in the morning, that he rose up to depart: and the

{220} damsel's father said unto his son-in-law, Comfort thine heart

with a morsel of bread, and afterward go your way. And they sat down,

and did eat and drink both of them together; for the damsel's father

had said unto the man, Be content, I pray thee, and tarry all night,

and let thine heart be merry. And when the man rose up to depart, his

father-in-law urged him: therefore he lodged there again. And he rose

early in the morning on the fifth day to depart: and the damsel's

father said, Comfort thine heart, I pray thee. And they tarried until

afternoon,[1] and they did eat both of them. And when the man rose up

to depart, ... his father-in-law, the damsel's father, said unto him,

Behold, now the day draweth toward evening, I pray you tarry all night:

... lodge here, that thine heart may be merry; and to morrow get you

early on your way, that thou mayest go {221} home. But the man would

not tarry that night, but he rose up and departed."

When an honored guest takes his departure, as a mark of high regard his

host walks with him out of town a distance the length of which is

determined by the affectionate esteem in which the host holds his

visitor. At times we walked for a whole hour with our departing guest,

and desisted from going farther only at his most urgent request. So in

the eighteenth chapter of the Book of Genesis we are told that

Abraham's guests "rose up from thence, and looked toward Sodom: and

Abraham went with them _to bring them on the way_." The English

phrase, however, "to bring them on the way," falls far short of

expressing the full meaning of the term _shy-ya'_.

Pilgrimages to holy places and fraternal feasts--such as are enjoyed on

betrothal occasions, weddings, baptisms of children, and great

holidays--are practically the only occasions the common people of Syria

have to bring them together. On such occasions the guests {222} are

invited in families; therefore the number of those who come to the

feast is never exactly known in advance. The food is served in large

quantities, but not in such great variety as in the West. The table

appointments are very simple. There are no flowers, no lace doilies,

nor the brilliant and sometimes bewildering array of knives, forks, and

spoons which grace an American host's table on such festive occasions.

The guests sit close together on the floor, about low tables, or trays,

and eat in a somewhat communistic fashion from comparatively few large

dishes. If twenty guests are expected, and thirty come, they simply

enlarge the circle, or squeeze closer together. Their sitting so close

to one another makes the "breaking of bread together" for these friends

more truly fraternal.

In the third chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, the twentieth verse, the

writer speaks of the large concourse of people who followed Jesus and

his disciples into a certain house. He tells us that "the multitude

cometh together again, so that they _could not so much as eat bread_."

{223} The cross-reference in the Bible points to the sixth chapter of

the same Gospel, the thirty-first verse, where it is said, "For there

were many coming and going, and they _had no leisure so much as to

eat_." My opinion is that the two occasions are not the same,

therefore the reference is incorrect. The first passage alludes to the

fact that although, owing to the very simple table appointments among

the common people of Syria, only _little space_ is required for one to

eat his dinner, the crowd was so dense that not even such space was

available. The second passage points to the fact that the Master's

audience was a stream of people "coming and going" so that _his

disciples_ had not leisure enough to eat. The preceding verse and the

first half of the verse just quoted say: "And the apostles gathered

themselves together unto Jesus, and told him all things, both what they

had done, and what they had taught. And he said unto them, Come ye

yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while." The remainder

of the verse gives the reason why Jesus {224} felt so concerned about

his fatigued and hungry disciples, by saying, "For there were many

coming and going, and they [the disciples] had no leisure so much as to

eat." The Syrian feels satisfied even on ordinary occasions when he

can secure one or two loaves of the thin bread he habitually eats, and

a few olives, or some other modest delicacy, for what the Americans

would call a "lunch." He needs neither a table nor even a "lunch

counter" to facilitate his eating. He can perform that essential

function sitting down on the floor with his legs folded under him,

standing up, or even walking, as well as seated at a table. In view of

all this there is no little significance in the saying of the Gospel

writer, "And the multitude cometh together again, so that they _could

not so much as eat bread_."

In several places in the Gospels reference is made to Jesus' "sitting

at meat."[2] The marginal note in the Revised Version gives the word

"recline" as the real equivalent of the {225} original Greek term which

is rendered "sit" in the text. This, no doubt, is correct, so far as

the original text is concerned, but the reference is to a Greek and not

to a Syrian custom. The Greeks were in the habit of reclining on

couches while eating, and it is not at all improbable that certain

wealthy Orientals imitated this custom in the time of Christ, as

certain wealthy Syrian families of the present time imitate European

customs. But I fail to find, either within my own experience, or in

the traditions and literature of Syria, that reclining at the table was

ever countenanced as at all a proper posture; certainly never among the

common people of which the Master was one. To sit erect on the floor

at the low table, with the legs either folded under the body, or thrown

back as in the act of kneeling, is the seemly (_laiyik_) posture, which

is ever sung in Arabic poetry. In this we were instructed from

childhood. On unusual occasions, such as those of sorrow or great joy,

friends might rest their heads on one another's shoulders, or breasts,

as John did at the Last {226} Supper, but these are rare exceptions.

Good breeding and "reverence for the food" require the sitting erect at

meat.

Certain commentators have found the reference to the habit of reclining

at meat very serviceable in explaining Mary's act of anointing Jesus'

feet with nard, as he sat at supper at her home in Bethany. In the

twelfth chapter of the Gospel of John, the third verse, it is said:

"Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and

anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair." A

similar incident is mentioned also in the seventh chapter of Luke, the

thirty-sixth and following verses:[3] "And one of the pharisees desired

him that he would eat with him. And he entered into the pharisee's

house, and sat down to meat. And behold, a woman which was in the

city, a sinner; and when she knew that he was sitting at meat in the

pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster cruse of ointment, and

standing behind at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his {227} feet

with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head, and kissed

his feet, and anointed them with the ointment." The explanation is

that it was convenient for the woman to wash and anoint Jesus' feet in

this manner, because he was _reclining_ on a couch.

What I am certain of is that the couch or any elevated seat is not at

all necessary in such cases. Whenever an Oriental indulges in the

practice of washing his feet he sits on the floor, as is his custom,

and lifts the feet into the basin of water. This is the only way I

ever knew in my old home, and it is no less effective than is the more

"scientific" way of the West. King James's Version renders the passage

a little more difficult by giving greater definiteness to the woman's

position at Jesus' feet. While the Revised Version says, "And standing

behind at his feet," the older Version says, "And stood behind _him_,"

etc. Yet even here the couch affords no greater advantage than the

floor, because by folding the legs under the body, the feet are

partially visible under the knee joints {228} and could be touched from

behind, and in the case of a kneeling posture, the feet may be easily

reached from that direction.[4] However, it should be borne in mind

here that the real significance of the entire passage is to be found,

not in the woman's physical but spiritual act. It was her spirit of

love and devotion to the Master, and, in the case of her who was a

"sinner," her profound repentance and deep humility in touching Jesus'

feet in this manner, which immortalized her act in the Scriptures. To

the Orientals the feet are unclean in a ceremonial sense; they are not

"honorable" members of the body; therefore to touch them in an act of

devotion marks the deepest depth of humility. It was in this sense

that Jesus humbled himself as an example to his disciples by washing

their feet.

But objections may be made to the foregoing explanation on the ground

that reclining at meat is mentioned in one of the most ancient books

{229} in the Old Testament, and which cannot be ascribed to the

influence of Greek thought. In the sixth chapter of the Book of Amos,

the third and fourth verses, it is said, according to the Revised

Version: "Ye that put far away the evil day, and cause the seat of

violence to come near; that lie upon beds of ivory, and _stretch

themselves upon their couches, and eat the lambs out of the flock, and

the calves out of the stall_." To some writers there is here a direct

reference to the habit of reclining on couches while eating. But a

careful study of the passage will show that its construction does not

warrant such a conclusion. The passage cannot be made to read, "Ye ...

that stretch themselves upon their couches _and eat_." The Hebrew word

_weaukhalim_ may mean, in this connection, "while eating," or, "and the

eaters,"--those that eat. The rendering of the Arabic, which is a

close kin of the Hebrew, is, "Ye ... who lie upon beds of ivory, and

who are stretched on cushions [_fûrsh_], _and who eat lambs_," and so

forth. Here it may easily be seen that the {230} passage gives the

theory of reclining at meat no real support, and the table customs of

Syria past and present oppose any effort to force the passage to yield

such a meaning. In his scathing condemnation of those who rolled in

luxury and forgot God and his people, the prophet mentioned

contemptuously the ease and the feasting of those whose life should

have been more productive of good. He might have said, "Ye who lie on

couches, and sing idle songs, and drink wine," as fittingly as, "Ye who

lie on couches, and who eat lambs and calves."

[1] The more accurate rendering of this sentence in the Revised Version

is, "And tarry ye until the day declineth." In the hot season a good

excuse to delay a departing guest is to beg him to wait until the cool

late afternoon, "The decline of the day [_assar_]."

[2] Matt. xxvi: 7, 20; John xii: 2.

[3] The Revised Version.

[4] As has already been mentioned, the common people of Syria wear no

shoes in the house.

{231}

CHAPTER V

FAMILY FEASTS

Of the feasts which are considered more strictly family affairs, I will

speak of two which live in my memory clothed with romantic charms. The

one is that which we enjoyed at the "killing of the sheep." As a rule

every Syrian family fattens a sheep during the summer season. The

housewife feeds the gentle animal by hand so many times during the day

and so many during the night, until he is so fat that he "cannot rise

from the ground." No person is expected to speak of this sheep or

touch him without saying, "The blessing from God" (be upon the lamb).

Oh, if I could but feel again the thrilling joy which was always mine

when, as a small boy, I sat beside my mother and rolled the small

"morsels" of mulberry and grape-leaves, dipped them in salted bran

water, and handed them to my mother to feed the "blessed sheep"!

{232}

Early in the autumn came the time for "killing." Wherever my father

was, he came home, for the father of the household must kill the sheep.

As a rule the blood of the animal was shed upon the threshold--a custom

which echoes the ancient Semitic practice of thus honoring the

household god. Now, however, perhaps for sanitary reasons, the sheep

is killed a short distance from the door. The solemnity of the act

robbed it for us of its cruelty. On the day of "killing" we sharpened

the knives, crushed the salt in the stone mortar, and fed the sheep

only sparingly. As the day began to decline the animal was "led to the

slaughter," and laid gently on the ground, as the ancient sacrifice was

laid before the Lord. My father, holding with his left hand the

animal's head, made the sign of the cross with the knife on the

innocent throat, and, in the name of God, slew the sheep.

The fact that many householders in a community "kill the sheep" on the

same day makes the occasion a reproduction of the night of the {233}

exodus from Egypt. In the twelfth chapter of the Book of Exodus, the

third and sixth verses, Jehovah speaks to Moses concerning Israel,

saying, "In the tenth day of this month they shall take to them every

man a lamb, according to the house of their fathers, a lamb for an

house.... And ye shall keep it up until the fourteenth day of the same

month: and the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill

it in the evening."

With a few intimate friends we feasted at the killing of the sheep, and

then cut the red meat in small pieces "the size of a fledgeling's

head," fried it in the fat, and sealed it in glazed earthen jars for

our winter use.

The other most joyous feast was that of the _Marafeh_--the carnivals

which precede the Great Lent. For about two weeks before Lent begins,

the Christians of the East give themselves over to feasting. The dish

which is a great favorite on this occasion is called _kibbey_. It is

made of meat and crushed wheat. The meat is "beaten" in a stone

mortar, with a {234} large wooden masher, until it is reduced to a very

fine pulp. Then the crushed wheat, soaked in cold water, is mixed with

the meat, together with a generous supply of spices and salt. The

whole mixture is then "beaten" together so thoroughly that when rightly

done it resembles a lump of dough.

The writer of the Book of Proverbs, with characteristic Syrian

intensity, alludes to the process of _kibbey_-making in one of his

assaults upon "the fool." In the twenty-second verse of the

twenty-seventh chapter he says, "Though thou shouldest bray a fool in a

mortar among wheat with a pestle, yet will not his foolishness depart

from him."

Be that as it may, the craving of a Syrian for _kibbey_ (and I fully

know whereof I speak) makes the craving of a Bostonian for baked beans

and fish-balls for a Sunday breakfast pale into insignificance.

During _Marafeh_ friends and neighbors feast together until the last

night that precedes the beginning of Lent. The feast of that night is

one {235} of family solemnity, upon which no outsiders may intrude.

The members of the family come together to eat the last feast and drink

their cup of wine before entering upon the solemn period of

self-denial, fasting, and prayer. As at the ancient sacrificial

feasts, all the members of the family must be present. It was this

very custom which afforded Jonathan the excuse to send his beloved

friend David away from King Saul's court, and thus save him from the

murderous design which that monarch had against the son of Jesse. So

it was when the suspicious Saul asked his son, "Wherefore cometh not

the son of Jesse to meat, neither yesterday nor to-day?" Jonathan

answered Saul, "David earnestly asked leave of me to go to Bethlehem:

and he said, Let me go, I pray thee; for our family hath a sacrifice in

the city; and my brother, he hath commanded me to be there."[1]

On that solemnly joyous evening my mother spreads the feast, and with

most tender and pious affections my parents call their sons and {236}

daughters to surround the low table. My father pours the wine. To us

all the cup is symbolic of sacred joy. Holding the cup in his hand, my

father leans forward and says to my mother, "May God prolong your life

and grant you the joy of many returns of this feast!" And to us, "May

your lives be long; may we be granted to drink the cup at your

weddings; may God grant you health and happiness and many future

feasts!" We all answer, "May your drinking be health and happiness and

length of days!" My mother, after wishing my father the blessings he

wished for her, and imploring the Most High to bless and keep him "over

our heads," drinks next. Then the wine is passed to every one of us.

"Drink ye all of it" is my father's command; for who can tell whether

the family circle shall remain unbroken until the Easter festival? Not

a trace of the feast is kept in the house until the morrow. What is

not eaten is burned or thrown away, for on the next day no meat, eggs,

or milk is permitted to the faithful. Wine also is not supposed to be

indulged in {237} during Lent, until the Easter bell heralds the

tidings of the Resurrection.

So did the Master speak to his disciples on the eve of his suffering.

In the twenty-sixth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel we read, "And he

took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye

all of it.... But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this

fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with you in my

Father's kingdom."

Thus from the simplest conception of bread as a means to satisfy

physical hunger to the loftiest mystic contemplation of it as a

sacramental element, the Orientals have always eaten bread with a sense

of sacredness. "Bread and salt," "bread and wine," "Christ the bread

of life," "For we, being many, are one bread," "Give us this day our

daily bread," these and other sayings current in the Bible and in

Oriental speech all spring from the deepest life of the ancient East.

And the sacredness of this common article of food has been of most

inestimable value to {238} Oriental peoples. In the absence of other

means of social cohesion, and the higher civil interests which bind men

together, it has been a great blessing indeed to those much-divided

Orientals to find peace and security in the simple saying, "There is

bread and salt between us."

[1] 1 Sam. xx: 27-29.

{241}

PART IV

OUT IN THE OPEN

CHAPTER I

SHELTER AND HOME

Some one has said that the ancient Israelites called God a "shelter"

and a "refuge," and not a "home," because for the most part the Syrians

lived out of doors. All the habitation an Israelite needed was a

shelter from the storm and a refuge from the enemy. Hence the prayer

of the Psalmist: "For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong

tower from the enemy,"[1] and the prophecy of Isaiah, the fourth

chapter and the sixth verse, according to the Revised Version: "And

there shall be a pavilion for a shadow in the day-time from the heat,

and for a refuge and for a covert from storm and from rain."

The assertion that the Syrian, both ancient and modern, lives for the

most part out of doors is substantially correct. The long and rainless

summers, the almost exclusively agricultural {242} and pastoral life of

the people, outside the few large cities, and the primitive modes of

travel, enable the Syrian to live his life out in the open. His

one-story house, consisting of one or two rooms very simply furnished,

conveys the impression that it is only an emergency shelter. Yet that

artless structure and the living "close to nature" have proved so

agreeable and so satisfactory to the people of the East as to defy the

forces of evolution. Certainly the continuance of that simple

environment, "from age to age the same," indicates that in the

universal scheme of things evolution is not altogether compulsory. Man

can, if he chooses, stand still, and live somewhat comfortably by

simply repeating the past.

To the Oriental life is neither an evolution nor an achievement, but an

inheritance. To his passive yet poetical mind the ancient landmarks

possess enchanting sentimental value. The thought of the same modes of

life linking fifty centuries together appeals powerfully to his

imagination. It spells security, and establishes {243} confidence in

the laws of being, at least to old age.

However, it should not be inferred from the foregoing that the Syrian

thinks lightly of his humble home. No; he is a passionate lover of it,

and associates with it the deepest joys and sorrows of life. But he

does not have for his abode the two designations "house" and "home,"

which prevail in the West. The Hebrew word _bayith_ and the Arabic

_bait_ mean primarily a "shelter." The English equivalent is the word

"house." The richer term, "home," has never been invented by the son

of Palestine because he has always considered himself "a sojourner in

the earth." His tent and his little house, therefore, were sufficient

for a shelter for him and his dear ones during the earthly pilgrimage.

The word which is translated "home" in about forty places in the

English version of the Bible does not differ in the original from the

word "house," which is found in about three thousand five hundred

passages in the Bible. The terms "tent," "house," "place of

residence," {244} and the phrases, "to go to his kindred," "to return

to his place," etc., are all translated "home," and "go home."

To the Oriental the word "house" is very precious. It means the place

of safe retreat (malja). And it is this word which he uses in speaking

of God as his protector. It means more than "shelter." It is a place

of protection and comfort. The word "refuge" is a more suitable

equivalent. In that contentious East we always thought of a safe

refuge in time of trouble. Every family of the common people

"belonged" to some powerful lord who was its refuge in time of danger.

He was strong, rich, compassionate. He protected his own. How much

stronger, richer, and more compassionate, therefore, is the Lord of

Hosts! The needy and much terrified Oriental discovered long ago the

frailty of all earthly shelters. The King of Kings and the Lord of

Hosts was his never-failing refuge. The trustful contemplation of God

as an ever-present helper has steadied the faltering steps of countless

generations. "The {245} Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my

deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and

the horn[2] of my salvation, and my high tower."[3] "God is our refuge

and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we

fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried

into the midst of the sea."[4]

Is it not really worth while to fear and to suffer, if by so doing one

is brought so close to God? The writer of the one hundred and

nineteenth Psalm had the world in his debt when he turned his inward

vision toward the Most High and prayed:[5] "It is good for me that I

have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes. The law of thy

mouth is better unto me than thousands of gold and silver." And who

can estimate the debt which humanity owes to the Sufferer of Calvary?

[1] Ps. lxi: 3.

[2] The "horn" symbolizes strength.

[3] Ps. xviii: 2, 3.

[4] Ps. xlvi: 1, 2.

[5] Ps. cxix: 71, 72.

{246}

CHAPTER II

RESIGNED TRAVELERS

Traveling by the "Twentieth Century, Limited," is fast transit; but,

excepting in case of a wreck, the trip is devoid of incident. The

mechanical perfection of the conveyance, and the infallibility of the

time-table reduce journeying to transportation. There is no girding of

the loins, no pilgrim's staff, no salutations by the way and no

wayfarer's song. The journey is not humanized by the tender care for

the camel, the mule, and the ass, nor are the hunger and thirst

satisfied by the breaking of bread beside the lonely springs of water.

The terrors and triumphs of St. Paul in his "journeyings often, in

perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own

countrymen, in perils by the heathen, ... in weariness and painfulness,

in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, ... in cold and

nakedness,"[1] are all to the {247} modern Western traveler echoes of a

remote past.

But such are still the common experiences of the sons of the East. One

of the heroic wedding songs which was much in vogue in my boyhood days

was this (addressed to the bride): "Thy father, O beauteous one,

journeyed to Damascus alone!" Previous to the introduction of the

railway train, which now runs between Beyrout and Damascus, the journey

from my home town to the latter city consumed two days. In those days,

as is still the case in many parts of Syria, men traveled in large

groups for mutual protection from the "hidden dangers of the way," and

he who journeyed to the ancient city alone was proclaimed hero. My

memories of the tales of adventure which I heard the men relate are

very thrilling. Tales of encounters with robbers, battles with snakes

and wild beasts, suffering from the insufficiency of "the food for the

way" (_zad_) and the thirst occasioned by the early "failure," that is,

the {248} drying up, of springs of water which had been thought to be

still flowing.

Only those who have traveled under such circumstances can fully

appreciate the promise given in the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah, the

eleventh verse, "And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy

thy soul in drought, and make fat[2] thy bones: and thou shalt be like

a watered garden, and like a spring of water, _whose waters fail not_."

This recalls forcibly to my mind the occasions when in our travels in

the late summer we would stand at the parting of two roads and wonder

which one to take. The opinion of the more experienced men in the

party, that the spring of water on one of those roads was likely to be

dry in that season of the year, always turned our steps in the other

direction. In that thirsty land such a possibility could not be safely

ignored. In those long summer days, when the mouth of the traveler on

the dusty roads of Syria "turns bitter from the thirst," the arrival

{249} at a spring which had "failed" is almost a tragic experience.

Hence it is that the "springs of water" are one of the precious

promises of the Bible, and their failure was one of the fearful threats.

It was indeed a call to his disciples to make the great renunciation

when Jesus sent them out to preach the glad tidings of the kingdom

which was "at hand," with the command, "Provide neither gold, nor

silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither

two coats, neither shoes, nor yet staves."[3] So far as the comforts

and protection that earthly things can give, those disciples were sent

out perfectly helpless. The Master's programme for those disciples is

just the antithesis of that which an ordinary Oriental traveler follows.

No traveler in the interior of Syria ever starts out on a journey, be

it short or long, without _zad_. True, Syrian generosity to a wayfarer

is to be depended upon, but the traditions of the country are that

self-respect requires that a {250} traveler shall provide himself with

_zad_, and shall accept hospitality only as a last resort. The best

etiquette requires that when a traveler is invited to another's table,

he should take out his _zad_ and place it before him. The host, on the

other hand, positively refuses to allow his chance guest to eat of his

own _zad_. The host removes the _zad_ from the table, and either adds

to it and gives it to the guest upon his departure or gives him a new

_zad_. Without scrip, the traveler seems to himself to be utterly a

dependent, a beggar, and not a guest.

"Put up a few loaves for _zad_," is the first thing said when a person

is about to start out on a journey. The thin loaves are folded into

small bundles, which may contain such delicacies as ripe black olives,

cheese, boiled eggs, and figs conserved in grape molasses, and wrapped

up in a large napkin, which the traveler ties around his waist, with

the bread on the back. The bread is often carried in a leather bag

(_jerab_). This is the "scrip" and "wallet" of the Gospel command. On

a long {251} journey, say of a day or more, the thin bread dries up and

breaks into small pieces. A dry and crumby _zad_ indicates a long

journey. The Gibeonites certainly "did work wilily" when they used

their dry and broken bread as a means to deceive Joshua. Although they

were Israel's near neighbors, by carrying dry crumbs in their bags and

saying to Joshua upon their arrival at his camp, "This our bread we

took hot for our provision out of our houses on the day we came forth

to go unto you; but now, behold, it is dry, and it is mouldy,"[4] made

him and "the princes of the congregation" believe that the wily

travelers had come from a distant country. The English translation,

however, by using the word "mouldy" introduces a foreign element into

the text. In the dry climate of Palestine the bread does not get

_mouldy_ on a journey, but it dries up and crumbles into small

fragments, as every Syrian knows. The Arabic version has it, "This our

bread ... is now dry and in crumbs [_fetat_]."

{252}

"Provide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass in your purses." The

original text has "girdles" instead of "purses." While traveling in

the East we always carried our money in the girdle and only a few coins

in the purse. The girdle of the present day is a stout woolen or

cotton belt, which is called, in the vernacular Arabic, _kummer_. It

is worn under the sash, and the longest specimen of it measures about

five feet. It is double to the length of about thirty inches. The two

folds are very securely sewed together at the edge, and only a small

opening provided near the buckle, through which the money is inserted.

The double part, containing the money, is first fastened around the

waist by means of a short leather buckle, then the single part is wound

over it. It may be seen here that in case of an encounter with

robbers, the money cannot be snatched from its owner until he is

completely subdued by his antagonist.

The common people of Syria speak of the _kummer_ as of a man's

financial strength. There are practically no "bank accounts." "How is

{253} the _kummer_?" means, "How do you stand financially?" To tap the

_kummer_ cheerfully indicates good circumstances. It is joy and glory

for a youth when he reaches the age when he may have a _kummer_. The

thrill of satisfaction which that possession gives still lingers with

me. It was as much of a sign of maturity and independence for me to

tap that Scriptural girdle which I wore, when I had money in it, as to

swear by my newly sprouting mustache. It was my treasure!

From all this it may be noted that the Master's command, "Provide

neither gold, nor silver, nor brass in your girdles," meant, not only

to carry no money on their missionary journey, but to seek and _horde_

no money. An Oriental's girdle is his bank.

The part of the command which says, "Neither two coats," means two

changes of clothing. The thing sought here, however, as well as in the

saying, "Neither shoes," is not the abandonment of the necessary

wearing apparel, but willing self-denial.

{254}

"Nor yet staves." The staff, or the "stick of travel," is the symbol

of journeying in Syria. There, _Elkeina el'asa_ (rested the staff)

means we reached the end of our journey. _El'asa_ (staff) occupies a

significant place in Syrian lore. It is difficult for me to imagine a

Syrian starting on a journey without an _asa_. The Israelites were

given explicit directions concerning their preparations for the journey

on the eve of their exodus from Egypt. They were told[5] to eat the

lamb of the passover "with your loins girded, your shoes on your feet,

_and your staff in your hand_."

In our travels in Syria the staff was to us a most valuable support in

climbing the steep hills, crossing the streams of water, battling with

snakes and ferocious dogs, and with highway robbers. "The staff is a

companion" is a current saying in the land. The disciples were

commanded in this manner to detach themselves from the material

interests of this world, and to give themselves wholly to the preaching

{255} of the kingdom. In their need and in their weakness they were to

be rich and strong through their vision of the eternal realities.

In the tenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, Jesus' commission to the

disciples contains the command, "And salute no man by the way." It

would seem strange, indeed, that those messengers of peace and

good-will, who were being sent out to spread the leaven of friendliness

and good cheer in the world, should be enjoined by their Master to

salute no man by the way. But when it is known in what manner the

Orientals salute one another on those weary journeys, the Gospel

restriction will not seem so very strange. Wayfarers in the East do

not content themselves with the severely brief Western salutation, "How

d' you do; nice day," and then pass on. The Oriental salutation is a

copious flow of soul, whose intimacy and inquisitiveness are quite

strange to the mentality of the West.

When the ways of two travelers converge, or the one overtakes the

other, and they decide to _yatrafeko_ (be companion the one to the

other) {256} and "wear away the road in friendly speech," the

salutation runs as follows:--

"_Allah y'atek el'afieh_ [May God give you health and strength]."

"_Allah y'afie imrak_ [May God refresh and strengthen your life]."

"Whence has your excellent presence [_heth-retek_] come, and whither

are you facing?"

"From Nazareth have I come, and am facing towards Damascus."

"What is the precious name?"

"Your humble servant Mas'ud, son of Yusuf of the clan of Ayyub [Job]."

"_Wann'am, wann'am_ [All honor, all honor]!"

"_Wann'am_ to your excellent presence, and your respected clan!"

"What are your years?"

"My years, friend, are four and thirty."

"May your life be long and happy!"

"May Allah lengthen your days!"

"What children have you?" (It is taken for granted that a man of that

age has been long since married.)

{257}

"Three sons in the keeping of God."

"Long life to them and health and happiness!"

"What men does your clan count?"

"We turn out _seb'een baroody_ [seventy shotguns]."

"_Seb'een baroody_! Valiant men. What enemies have you in your native

town?"

"Our chief enemy is the clan of Haddad. They turn out one hundred

_baroody_, but whenever the iron gets hot [that is, whenever a fight

occurs] we shatter their forces."

Thus the mutually complimentary conversation and the searching of

hearts continue until each of the travelers is thoroughly informed

concerning the personal, domestic, and social affairs of the other.

The trade, the income, the profession, the cares and anxieties, and

even the likes and dislikes of each are made known to the other before

their ways part.

Hence the Master's command, "Salute no man by the way." Surely the

intention was not to be rude and unfriendly to fellow travelers, {258}

but to be completely absorbed by the glorious message of the Gospel.

The command was given because "the king's business required haste."

Even an Oriental must quicken his pace when his mission is "to seek and

to save that which was lost."

[1] 2 Cor. xi: 26, 27.

[2] The Arabic and the Revised Versions: "make strong."

[3] Matt. x: 9, 10.

[4] Joshua ix: 12.

[5] Exod. xii: 11.

{259}

CHAPTER III

THE MARKET PLACE

I cannot think of the market place in the East without at the same time

thinking of the camel caravan. In many parts of Syria, the arrival of

the caravan makes the market. _El-habbet_ (the grain) is the chief

commodity, and the camel is the chief carrier. In very recent years

the railway train has to a certain extent taken from the camel his

ancient occupation, but it has by no means completely supplanted the

"ship of the desert."

The coming of camel caravans from the "land of the east" to our Lebanon

town, laden with the "blessed grain," is one of my most enchanted

memories of outdoor life in Syria. The sight of a train of camels,

with their curved necks bridging the spaces between them, suggests to

the beholder an endless line. It is not at all surprising to me to

read the assertion of the writer of the seventh chapter of the Book of

{260} Judges, where he speaks of the Midianites and Amalekites, that

"their camels were without number, as the sand of the sea-side for

multitude." It seems to me that it does not require more than a train

of one hundred camels to convey the idea of endlessness.

At the first glimpse of the approaching caravan we boys would swarm to

the _saha_ (the open space) of the town. There the caravan unloads,

and awaits the buyers of wheat. It makes me long for my early years

when I read in the twenty-fourth chapter of the Book of Genesis the

story of Abraham's servant when he journeyed to Mesopotamia. "And the

servant took ten camels of the camels of his master and departed....

And he made his camels to kneel down without the city by a well of

water at the time of the evening, even the time that women go out to

draw water." It is decidedly thrilling to hear the cameleer say, _ich,

ich, i--ch--ch!_ and pull at the halter of his camel to make him

"kneel." And, with a friendly roar, the great beast drops, first

forward on his huge, thick, {261} hardened knees, then comes down on

his haunches, and then, swaying in all directions, like an island

shaken by an earthquake, rests his enormous body on the ground.

"At the time of the evening [in the late afternoon], even the time that

women go out to draw water," the camels are led to the fountains to be

watered. The ancient writer's reference to "the time that women go out

to draw water" is to a Syrian as definite as the reference to a Swiss

clock. _Wakket elmeliah_ (the time to fill the jars) is in the early

morning and the late afternoon. For obvious reasons the women choose

the "cool of the day" for carrying their heavy jars of water from the

fountain to the house. The Syrian women have faithfully kept this

custom from before the days of Abraham. And it is in the cool of the

day that the cameleers also deem it best to water their precious

animals. The women always view this event with disfavor. The thirsty

camels completely drain the pond into which the surplus water of the

slender fountain flows, and which the {262} housewives put to other

household uses than drinking. No doubt the ancient Israelitish women

in certain sections of Palestine grumbled when the cameleers drew

heavily out of the wells on which the home-makers depended entirely for

their water supply.

But to us boys the occasion was festive. By bribing the cameleers with

gifts of grapes, figs, raisins, or any other sweets, for which the

craving of the Bedouins is proverbial, we were allowed to mount the

camels and lead them to the water. It may be true, as some scholars

assert, that the swaying walk of the camel first quickened the measured

song of the Arab, but my first camel ride was anything but poetical. I

had, upon the arrival of the caravan, smuggled from our store of

raisins two large pocketfuls, the one with which to bribe the Bedouin

to give me a ride, the other to eat while on the camel's back, like a

gay rider. As I climbed confidently on the wooden saddle of the

kneeling beast, the Arab, who was already devouring the raisins, stems

and all, by the handful, gave {263} the familiar signal, _tshew,

tshew_, and instantly the thirsty camel rose and flew toward the

fountain. I felt as if my brain was being torn off its base. I lost

the sense of direction, and seemed to myself to be suspended between

earth and heaven, tossed by violent winds. I screamed; but the Bedouin

would not let me down until I promised him the other pocketful of

raisins.

In Syria the _sûk_ (market place) is more than a place of exchange of

commodities. It is rather an occasion of varied business and social

interests. The Oriental knows no business without sociability. His

_dekkan_ (store) is a gathering-place for friends, and a business

transaction with him, especially in the interior of the country, is

almost always preceded by a friendly visit with the customer. So the

market is a place where the dignitaries of the town meet and exchange

salutations and discuss various interests. The social nature of such

occasions is indicated in Jesus' warning to his disciples, "Beware of

the scribes, which love to go in long clothing, and _love salutations

in the {264} marketplaces_."[1] Apparently those teachers of Israel

were very frequent visitors at the markets, where men of all classes

paid them the homage which their calling, if not their person, merited.

In the past the Arab markets were also significant conventions of

literary men, especially poets. Discussions of all sorts of subjects

are carried on at the market. So it was in Athens in Paul's time,

where he "disputed ... in the market daily with them that met with

him."[2] And, of course, the children love to gather in the market

place, play their pranks, and watch the interesting activities of their

elders. It was to such a crowd of youngsters that Jesus likened the

fickle and peevish men of his time. In the eleventh chapter of St.

Matthew's Gospel, the sixteenth verse, he says, "But whereunto shall I

liken this generation? It is like unto children sitting in the

markets, and calling unto their fellows, and saying, We have piped unto

you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned unto you, and ye have not

lamented."

{265}

To my youthful mind the chief charm of the market place was the

_keyyal_ (measurer). The strong man who measured the wheat will live

in my memory as long as life endures. He it is who gives the "good

measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over." In Syria the

custom is that every measure must run over. Friendship must forever be

mixed with business. Liquid measures, also, of such things as milk and

oil, must run over a little into the vessel of the buyer, for "with

what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."[3]

After the price has been agreed upon, the sturdy cameleer spreads his

ample cloak on the ground and pours the golden grain in a heap upon it.

The _keyyal_ kneels by the little hillock of wheat, and, naming the

Holy Name, thrusts the _midd_ (a wooden measure) into the precious

wheat. The grain is sacred; therefore, the language of the _keyyal_

must be pious. As he tosses the first measure into the buyer's bag, or

the skirt of his cloak, he says, "Blessing!" that {266} means "One";

"From God" means "Two." Then the counting is continued in the ordinary

language--three, four, and so on.

After it is first thrust into the heap of wheat, the _midd_, about half

full, is whirled around on its bottom, lifted slightly from the ground

and dropped several times. The _keyyal_, constantly repeating the

number of the _midds_ he has already measured, "lest he forget," pours

the wheat into the measure with his hands, packs it down with his

palms, and all his strength. He whirls the _midd_ round again, shakes

it, presses it, and again heaps the wheat, pyramid-like, above the rim.

The circular shower of the golden grain falls gently over the edges.

The artful _keyyal_ pours small handfuls of wheat with his right hand

into his left, which is formed into a funnel over the apex of the

heaped _midd_, until the point is "as sharp as a needle's." Then with

swift deftness, which elicits the admiration of the spectators, he

lifts the heaped measure and tosses it into the bag, without allowing a

single grain to fall outside.

{267}

With what telling effect and rich simplicity does the Master allude to

this custom of measuring grain in the Eastern markets. In the sixth

chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, the command and the promise are, "Give,

and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken

together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom." But the

word "bosom" here somewhat weakens the sense of the text. I do not

know why the English translators used it in place of the original word

"lap." The Oriental does not carry grain in his _bosom_, but in the

skirt of his ample garments, much as a woman carries things in the fold

of her apron. Again the word "lap" is used here in another and a more

significant sense. It is the symbol of plentifulness; just as the

"bosom" is the symbol of affection. The generous measure, even though

it be poured into one's bag, as a _blessing_, may be said to be given

into his _lap_.

Here again, as in many other Scriptural passages, Jesus gives the ideal

spiritual touch to the common things of life. Here an ordinary {268}

act is made the symbol of the fullness of the spiritual life. He whose

life is like the divine Parent's life--a perpetual outgoing and an

everlasting gift--shall never lack anything. Men will be taught by his

generosity how to be generous themselves, and the divine Giver will

give him of the fullness of his own life. There is no void which the

divine life cannot fill, no need which it cannot meet, and no hunger

which it cannot satisfy.

[1] Mark xii: 38.

[2] Acts xvii: 17.

[3] Matt. vii: 2.

{269}

CHAPTER IV

THE HOUSETOP

While a caravan of camels needs no other means than its own majestic

appearance to herald its arrival into a town, muleteer merchants shout

their wares from the housetop. Upon the arrival of a muleteer into the

_saha_ of the town with a load of lentils, potatoes, apricots, or any

other commodity, he "drops the load" from the animal's back onto the

ground, and goes upon the roof of the nearest house and proclaims his

wares at the top of his voice, in prolonged strains. To reach the flat

earthen roof of the one-story Syrian house needs no extension ladder.

It is so easily and quickly reached by the few rough stone steps in the

rear of the house that Jesus, in speaking of the incredibly swift

coming of the "end" in the twenty-fourth chapter in St. Matthew's

Gospel, says, "Let him which is on the housetop not come down to take

any thing out of his {270} house." So sudden was to be the

consummation of the Eternal's design, "because iniquity shall abound,

and the love of many shall wax cold," that even the short distance

between the housetop and the ground could not be safely traversed by

those who cared for earthly possessions.

The ease with which the roof of an ordinary Syrian house is reached

accounts also for the carrying of the man who was "sick of the palsy"

upon the housetop. The account in the second chapter of St. Mark's

Gospel, the third and fourth verses, runs, "And they came unto him,

bringing one sick of the palsy, which was borne of four. And when they

could not come nigh unto him for the press, they uncovered the roof

where he was; and when they had broken it up [the Arabic, "broken

through"], they let down the bed wherein the sick of the palsy lay."

This account describes perfectly the process of making an opening in a

Syrian roof.

In St. Luke's Gospel, however, the statement {271} is:[1] "And when

they could not find by what way they might bring him in because of the

multitude, they went upon the housetop, and let him down through the

_tiling_ with his _couch_ into the midst before Jesus." The coloring

here is decidedly Roman and not Syrian. The writer of Luke was a Latin

Christian. He related the incident in terms which were easily

understood by his own people. The Syrians never covered their roof

with tiles nor slept on couches. Mark's account speaks of uncovering

the _roof_ and letting down the _bed_. The Syrian roof is constructed

as follows: The main timbers which carry the roof covering are laid

across, horizontally, at intervals of about two to three feet.

Crosswise over the timbers are laid the _khasheb_ (sticks long enough

to bridge the spaces between) quite close together. Over the _khasheb_

reeds and branches of trees and thistles are laid, and the whole is

covered with about twelve inches of earth. The dirt is rolled down by

a stone roller and made hard enough to {272} "shed water." In many

houses during the summer season an opening, called _qafa'a_, is made in

the roof for the purpose of letting down the grain and other provisions

which are dried in the sun on the housetop. The space between the

timbers admits easily the large basket called _sell_, which is as big

around as a bushel basket.

Now, those who let down the palsied man either made an entirely new

opening in the roof, or simply extended the _qafa'a_ enough to admit

the unfortunate man in his folded quilt or thick cushion, tied by the

four corners. And it was this which Jesus commanded him to carry, when

he said to him, "Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk." From the

foregoing it may be seen that a couch could not have been so easily let

down through the roof, nor _carried_ by the newly healed man.

Sleeping on the housetop in the summer season is an Oriental custom the

advantage of which the Occident has just "discovered." To use the

roofs of high buildings in American cities as sleeping quarters is a

"new" suggestion of {273} that genius known as the "social reformer."

To the ancient East, "there is nothing new under the sun." However, to

dwell on the housetop is an expression which symbolizes desolation.

Nevertheless the writer of Proverbs says:[2] "It is better to _dwell_

in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide

house."

From the housetop the muleteer merchant shouts his wares; from the

housetop men call one another for various purposes; from the housetop

the _nowateer_ (men appointed by the municipality to watch the

vineyards) proclaim the names of trespassers; and from that elevation

the special orders of the governor of the district are proclaimed to

the populace. By night or by day, whenever we heard a voice calling

from a housetop, we instinctively listened most intently in order to

catch the message. The voice of the crier is so much like a distant,

prolonged railway whistle that in my first few years in America,

whenever I heard {274} such a sound, especially in the night, I

listened involuntarily, expecting to hear a message.

How often must Jesus have heard the free and full voice of the crier

from the housetop! How it must have appealed to him as the very

antithesis of the whisperings of fear, cowardice, and doubt, may be

realized from his command to his disciples. In the tenth chapter of

St. Matthew's Gospel we read Christianity's declaration of

independence. Here the antagonism of the world is portrayed with

complete fullness. "Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of

wolves." "Ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake." "Fear

them not ... for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed;

and hid, that shall not be known." In the face of all hatred and

danger and death the Master's command to those who carried the

world-transcending message, the supreme treasure of time and eternity,

was, "What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye

hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetop."

{275}

In the rainless Syrian summer the housetop is used for various

household purposes. The grass which grows on the earthen roof,

especially on its thick edges, withers early in the season. To this

the Scripture alludes in several places where it speaks of the enemies

of Israel as being "like the grass upon the housetops, which withereth

afore it groweth up." In some cases the whole roof is plastered with

clay mortar and used for drying grain, fruits, and vegetables. Also in

the summer season the housetop is used for holding wedding festivities

and funeral gatherings, which almost all the adult inhabitants of the

town are supposed to attend. With solemn brevity does the prophet

Jeremiah refer to this custom in the forty-eighth chapter, and the

thirty-eighth verse. The more accurate rendering of the Revised

Version is: "_On all the housetops_ of Moab and in the streets thereof

there is lamentation every where."