_THE HEAVY RESPONSIBILITIES OF TEACHERS.
THE POWERS AND PROPENSITIES OF THE TONGUE.
THE SELF-DEFILEMENT OF THE RECKLESS TALKER._
"Be not many teachers, my brethren, knowing that we shall receive
heavier judgment. For in many things we all stumble. If any stumble
not in word, the same is a perfect man, able to bridle the whole body
also. Now if we put the horses' bridles into their mouths, that they
may obey us, we turn about their whole body also. Behold, the ships
also, though they are so great, and are driven by rough winds, are
yet turned about by a very small rudder, whither the impulse of the
steersman willeth. So the tongue also is a little member, and
boasteth great things. Behold, how much wood is kindled by how small
a fire! And the tongue is a fire: the world of iniquity among our
members is the tongue, which defileth the whole body, and setteth on
fire the wheel of nature, and is set on fire by hell. For every kind
of beasts and birds, of creeping things and things in the sea, is
tamed, and hath been tamed by mankind: but the tongue can no man
tame; it is a restless evil, it is full of deadly poison."--ST. JAMES
iii. 1-8.
From the "idle faith" (πίστις ἀργή) St. James goes on to speak of
the "idle word" (ῥῆμα ἀργόν). The change from the subject of faith
and works to that of the temptations and sins of speech is not so
abrupt and arbitrary as at first sight appears. The need of warning
his readers against sins of the tongue has been in his mind from the
first. Twice in the first chapter it comes to the surface. "Let every
man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath" (ver. 19), as if
being slow to hear and swift to speak were much the same as being
swift to wrath. And again, "If any man thinketh himself to be
religious, while he bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his heart,
this man's religion is vain" (ver. 26). And now the subject of barren
faith causes him to return to the warning once more. For it is
precisely those who neglect good works that are given to talk much
about the excellence of their faith, and are always ready to instruct
and lecture others. That _controversies_ about faith and works
suggested to him this section about offences of the tongue, is a
gratuitous hypothesis. St. James shows no knowledge of any such
controversies. As already pointed out, the purpose of the preceding
section (ii. 14-26) is not controversial or doctrinal, but purely
practical, like the rest of the Epistle. The paragraph before us is of
the same character; it is against those who substitute words for works.
St. James is entirely of Carlyle's opinion that in the majority of
cases, if "speech is silvern, silence is golden;" but he does not
write twenty volumes to prove the truth of this doctrine. "In noble
uprightness, he values only the strict practice of concrete duties,
and hates talk" (Reuss); and while quite admitting that teachers are
necessary, and that some are called to undertake this office, he tells
all those who desire to undertake it that what they have to bear in
mind is its perils and responsibilities. And it is obvious that true
teachers must always be a minority. There is something seriously wrong
when the majority in the community, or even a large number, are
pressing forward to teach the rest.
"Be not many teachers, my brethren;" or, if we are to do full justice
to the compact fulness of the original, "Do not many of you become
teachers." St. James is not protesting against a usurpation of the
ministerial office; to suppose this is to give far too specific a
meaning to his simple language. The context points to no such sin as
that of Korah and his company, but simply to the folly of incurring
needless danger and temptation. In the Jewish synagogues any one who
was disposed to do so might come forward to teach, and St. James
writes at a time when the same freedom prevailed in the Christian
congregations. "Each had a psalm, had a teaching, had a revelation,
had a tongue, had an interpretation.... All could prophesy one by one,
that all might learn and all be comforted" (1 Cor. xiv. 26, 31). But
in both cases the freedom led to serious disorders. The desire to be
called of men "Rabbi, Rabbi," told among Jews and Christians alike,
and many were eager to expound who had still the very elements of true
religion to learn. It is against this general desire to be prominent
as instructors both in private and in public that St. James is here
warning his readers. The Christian Church already has its ministers
distinct from the laity, to whom the laity are to apply for spiritual
help (v. 14); but it is not an invasion of their office by the laity
to which St. James refers, when he says, "Do not many of you become
teachers." These Jewish Christians of the Dispersion were like those
at Rome to whom St. Paul writes; each of them was confident that his
knowledge of God and the Law made him competent to become "a guide of
the blind, a light of them that are in darkness, a corrector of the
foolish, a teacher of babes, having in the Law the form of knowledge
and of the truth" (Rom. ii. 17 _ff._). But in teaching others they
forgot to teach themselves; they failed to see that to preach the law
without being a doer of the law was to cause God's name to be
blasphemed among the Gentiles; and that to possess faith and do
nothing but talk was but to increase their own condemnation; for it
was to place themselves among those who are condemned by Christ
because "they say and do not" (Matt. xxiii. 3). The phrase "to receive
judgment" (κρῖμα λαμβάνειν) is in _form_ a neutral one: the judgment
may conceivably be a favourable one, but in _usage_ it implies that
the judgment is adverse (Mark xii. 40; Luke xx. 47; Rom. xiii. 2).
Even without the verb "receive" this word "judgment" in the New
Testament generally has the meaning of a _condemnatory_ sentence (Rom.
ii. 2, 3; iii. 8; v. 16; 1 Cor. xi. 29; Gal. v. 10; 1 Tim. iii. 6;
v. 12; 1 Pet. iv. 17; 2 Pet. ii. 3; Jude 4; Rev. xvii. 1; xviii. 20).
And there is no reason to doubt that such is the meaning here; the
context requires it. The fact that St. James with affectionate
humility and persuasiveness includes himself in the judgment--"_we_
shall receive"--by no means proves that the word is here used in a
neutral sense. In this he is like St. John, who breaks the logical
flow of a sentence in a similar manner, rather than seem not to
include himself: "If any man sin, _we_ have an Advocate" (1 John
ii. 1); _he_ is as much in need of the Advocate as others. So also
here, St. James, as being a teacher, shares in the heavier
condemnation of teachers. It was the conviction that the word is not
neutral, but condemnatory, which produced the rendering in the
Vulgate, "knowing that ye receive greater condemnation" (_scientes
quoniam majus judicium sumitis_), it being thought that St. James
ought not to be included in such a judgment.
But this is to miss the point of the passage. St. James says that "in
many things we stumble--_every one of us_." He uses the strong form of
the adjective (ἅπαντες for πάντες), and places it last with great
emphasis. Every one of us sins, and therefore there is condemnation in
store for every one of us. But those of us who are teachers will
receive a heavier sentence than those of us who are not such; for our
obligations to live up to the law which we know, and profess, and urge
upon others, are far greater. Heaviest of all will be the condemnation
of those who, without being called or qualified, through fanaticism,
or an itch for notoriety, or a craze for controversy, or a love of
fault-finding, push themselves forward to dispense instruction and
censure. They are among the fools who "rush in where angels fear to
tread," and thereby incur responsibilities which they need not, and
ought not, to have incurred, because they do not possess the
qualifications for meeting them and discharging them. The argument is
simple and plain: "Some of us must teach. All of us frequently fall.
Teachers who fall are more severely judged than others. Therefore do
not many of you become teachers."
In what sphere is it that we most frequently fall? Precisely in that
sphere in which the activity of teachers specially lies--in speech.
"If any stumbleth not in word, the same is a perfect man." St. James
is not thinking merely of the teacher who never makes a mistake, but
of the man who never sins with the tongue. There is an obvious, but by
no means exclusive, reference to teachers, and that is all. To every
one of us, whatever our sphere in life, the saying comes home that one
who offends not in word is indeed a _perfect_ man. By "perfect"
(τέλειος) he means one who has attained full spiritual and moral
development, who is "perfect and entire, lacking in nothing" (i. 4).
He is no longer a babe, but an adult; no longer a learner, but an
adept. He is a full and complete man, with perfect command of all the
faculties of soul and body. He has the full use of them, and complete
control over them. The man who can bridle the most rebellious part of
his nature, and keep it in faultless subjection, can bridle also the
whole. This use of "perfect," as opposed to what is immature and
incomplete, is the commonest use of the word in the New Testament. But
sometimes it is a religious or philosophical term, borrowed from
heathen mysteries or heathen philosophy. In such cases it signifies
the _initiated_, as distinct from novices. Such a metaphor was very
applicable to the Gospel, and St. Paul sometimes employs it (1 Cor.
ii. 6; Col. i. 28); but it may be doubted whether any such thought is
in St. James's mind here, although such a metaphor would have suited
the subject. He who never stumbles in word can be no novice, but must
be fully initiated in Christian discipline. But the simpler
interpretation is better. He who can school the tongue can school the
hands and the feet, the heart and the brain, in fact "the whole body,"
the whole of his nature, and is therefore a perfect man.
In his characteristic manner, St. James turns to natural objects for
illustrations to enforce his point. "Now if we put the horses' bridles
into their mouths, that they may obey us, we turn about their whole
body." The changes made here by the Revisers are changes caused by a
very necessary correction of the Greek text (εἰ δέ instead of ἴδε,
which St. James nowhere else uses, or ἰδού, which here has very
little evidence in its favour); for the text has been corrupted in
order to simplify a rather difficult and doubtful construction. The
uncorrupted text may be taken in two ways. _Either_, "But if we put
the horses' bridles into their mouths, that they may obey us, and so
turn about their whole body"--(much more ought we to do so to
ourselves); this obvious conclusion being not stated, but left for us
to supply at the end of an unfinished sentence. _Or_, as the Revisers
take it, which is simpler, and leaves nothing to be understood. A man
who can govern his tongue can govern his whole nature, just as a
bridle controls, not merely the horse's mouth, but the whole animal.
This first metaphor is suggested by the writer's own language. He has
just spoken of the perfect man _bridling_ his whole body, as before he
spoke of the impossibility of true religion in one who does not
_bridle_ his tongue (i. 26); and this naturally suggests the
illustration of the horses.
The argument is _à fortiori_ from the horse to the man, and still more
from the ship to the man, so that the whole forms a climax, the point
throughout being the same, viz. the smallness of the part to be
controlled in order to have control over the whole. And in order to
bring out the fact that the ships are a stronger illustration than the
horses, we should translate, "Behold, _even_ the ships, though they
are so great," etc., rather than "Behold, the ships _also_, though
they are so great." First the statement of the case (ver. 2), then the
illustration from the horses (ver. 3), then "_even_ the ships" (ver.
4), and finally the application, "so the tongue _also_" (ver. 5). Thus
all runs smoothly. If, as is certainly the case, we are able to govern
irrational creatures with a small bit, how much more ourselves through
the tongue; for just as he who has lost his hold of the reins has lost
control over the horse, so he who has lost his hold on his tongue has
lost control over himself. The case of the ship is still stronger. It
is not only devoid of reason, but devoid of life. It cannot be taught
obedience. It offers a dead resistance, which is all the greater
because of its much greater size, and because it is driven by rough
winds; yet its whole mass can be turned about by whoever has control
of the little rudder, to lose command of which is to lose command of
all. How much more, therefore, may we keep command over ourselves by
having command over our tongues! There is nothing more in the metaphor
than this. We may, if we please, go on with Bede, and turn the whole
into a parable, and make the sea mean human life, and the winds mean
temptations, and so on; but we must beware of supposing that anything
of that kind was in the mind of St. James, or belongs to the
explanation of the passage. Such symbolism is read into the text, not
extracted from it. It is legitimate as a means of edifying, but it is
not interpretation.
The expression "rough winds" (σκληρῶν ἀνέμων) is peculiar, "rough"
meaning hard or harsh, especially to the touch, and hence of what is
intractable or disagreeable in other ways (1 Sam. xxv. 3; Matt.
xxv. 24; John vi. 60; Acts xxvi. 14; Jude 15). Perhaps in only one
other passage in Greek literature, previous to this Epistle, is it
used as an epithet of wind, viz. in Prov. xxvii. 16, a passage in
which the Septuagint differs widely from the Hebrew and from our
versions. St. James, who seems to have been specially fond of the
sapiential books of Scripture, may have derived this expression from
the Proverbs.
"So the tongue also is a little member, and boasteth great things."
The tongue, like the bit and the rudder, is only a very small part of
the whole, and yet, like them, it can do great things. St. James says,
"boasteth great things," rather than "doeth great things," not in
order to insinuate that the tongue boasts of what it cannot or does
not do, which would spoil the argument, but in order to prepare the
way for the change in the point of the argument. Hitherto the point
has been _the immense influence which the small organ of speech has
over our whole being_, and the consequent need of controlling it when
we want to control ourselves. We must take care to begin the control
in the right place. This point being established, the argument takes a
somewhat different turn, and the necessity of curbing the tongue is
shown, not from its great power, but from its _inherent malignity_. It
can be made to discharge good offices, but its natural bent is towards
evil. If left unchecked, it is certain to do incalculable mischief.
The expression "boasteth great things" marks the transition from the
one point to the other, and in a measure combines them both. There are
great things done; that shows the tongue's power. And it boasts about
them; that shows its bad character.[67]
This second point, like the first, is enforced by two illustrations
taken from the world of nature. The first was illustrated by the power
of bits and rudders; the second is illustrated by the capacity for
mischief in fire and in venomous beasts. "Behold, what a fire kindles
what a wood!" is the literal rendering of the Greek, where "what a
fire" evidently means "how small a fire," while "what a wood" means
"how large a wood." The traveller's camp-fire is enough to set a whole
forest in flames, and the camp-fire was kindled by a few sparks.
"Fire," it is sometimes truly said, "is a good servant, but a bad
master," and precisely the same may with equal truth be said of the
tongue. So long as it is kept under control it does excellent service;
but directly it can run on unchecked, and lead instead of obeying, it
begins to do untold mischief. We sometimes speak of men whose "_pens_
run away with them;" but a far commoner case is that of persons whose
_tongues_ run away with them, whose untamed and unbridled tongues say
things which are neither seriously thought nor (even at the moment)
seriously meant. The habit of saying "great things" and using strong
language is a condition of constant peril, which will inevitably lead
the speaker into evil. It is a reckless handling of highly dangerous
material. It is playing with fire.
Yes, "the tongue is a fire. The world of iniquity among our members is
the tongue, which defileth the whole body." The right punctuation of
this sentence cannot be determined with certainty, and other possible
arrangements will be found in the margin of the Revised Version; but
on the whole this seems to be the best. The one thing that is certain
is that the "so" of the Authorized Version--"_so_ is the tongue among
our members"--is not genuine; if it were, it would settle the
construction and the punctuation in favour of what is at least the
second best arrangement: "The tongue is a fire, that world of
iniquity: the tongue is among our members that which defileth the
whole body." The meaning of "the world of iniquity" has been a good
deal discussed, but is not really doubtful. The ordinary colloquial
signification is the right one. The tongue is a boundless store of
mischief, an inexhaustible source of evil, a universe of iniquity;
_universitas iniquitatis_, as the Vulgate renders it. It contains
within itself the elements of all unrighteousness; it is charged with
endless possibilities of sin. This use of "world" (κόσμος) seems not
to occur in classical Greek; but it is found in the Septuagint of the
Proverbs, and again in a passage where the Greek differs widely from
the Hebrew (see above, p. 172). What is still more remarkable, it
occurs immediately after the mention of sins of speech: "An evil man
listeneth to the tongue of the wicked; but a righteous man giveth no
heed to false lips. The faithful man has the whole _world_ of wealth;
but the faithless not even a penny" (xvii. 4).
"_Is_ the tongue." The word for "is" must be observed (not ἐστι, nor
ὑπάρχει, but καθίσταται). Its literal meaning is "constitutes
itself," and it occurs again in iv. 4, where the Revisers rightly
translate it "maketh himself:" "Whosoever would be a friend of the
world _maketh himself_ an enemy of God." The tongue was not created by
God to be a permanent source of all kinds of evil; like the rest of
creation, it was made "very good," "the best member that we have." It
is by its own undisciplined and lawless career that it _makes itself_
"the world of iniquity," that it _constitutes itself_ among our
members as "that which defileth our whole body." This helps to explain
what St. James means by "_unspotted_" (ἄσπθλον) or "undefiled"
(i. 27). He who does not bridle his tongue is not really religious.
Pure religion consists in keeping in check that "which _defileth_
(ἡ σπιλοῦσα) our whole body." And the tongue defiles us in three
ways;--by suggesting sin to ourselves and others; by committing sin,
as in all cases of lying and blasphemy; and by excusing or defending
sin. It is a palmary instance of the principle that the best when
perverted becomes the worst--_corruptio optimi fit pessima_.
It "setteth on fire the wheel of nature, and is set on fire by hell."
We must be content to leave the precise meaning of the words rendered
"the wheel of nature" (τὸν τροχὸν τῆς γενέσεως) undetermined. The
general meaning is evident enough, but we cannot be sure what image
St. James had in his mind when he wrote the words. The one substantive
is obviously a metaphor, and the other is vague in meaning (as the
latter occurs i. 23, the two passages should be compared in
expounding); but what the exact idea to be conveyed by the combination
is, remains a matter for conjecture. And the conjectures are numerous,
of which one must suffice. The tongue is a centre from which mischief
radiates; that is the main thought. A wheel that has caught fire at
the axle is at last wholly consumed, as the fire spreads through the
spokes to the circumference. So also in society. Passions kindled by
unscrupulous language spread through various channels and classes,
till the whole cycle of human life is in flames. Reckless language
first of all "defiles the whole" nature of the man who employs it, and
then works destruction far and wide through the vast machinery of
society. And to this there are no limits; so long as there is
material, the fire will continue to burn.
How did the fire begin? How does the tongue, which was created for far
other purposes, acquire this deadly propensity? St. James leaves us in
no doubt upon that point. It is an inspiration of the evil one. The
enemy, who steals away the good seed, and sows weeds among the wheat,
turns the immense powers of the tongue to destruction. The old serpent
imbues it with his own poison. He imparts to it his own diabolical
agency. He is perpetually setting it on fire (present participle) from
hell.
The second metaphor by which the malignant propensity of the tongue is
illustrated is plain enough. It is an untamable, venomous beast. It
combines the ferocity of the tiger and the mockery of the ape with the
subtlety and venom of the serpent. It can be checked, can be
disciplined, can be taught to do good and useful things; but it can
never be tamed, and must never be trusted. If care and watchfulness
are laid aside, its evil nature will burst out again, and the results
will be calamitous.
There are many other passages in Scripture which contain warnings
about sins of the tongue: see especially Proverbs xvi. 27, 28; Ecclus.
v. 13, 14, and xxviii. 9-23, from which St. James may have drawn some
of his thoughts. But what is peculiar to his statement of the matter
is _this_, that _the reckless tongue defiles the whole nature of the
man who owns it_. Other writers tell us of the mischief which the
foul-mouthed man does to others, and of the punishment which will one
day fall upon himself. St. James does not lose sight of that side of
the matter, but the special point of his stern warning is the
insisting upon the fact that unbridled speech is a _pollution_ to the
man that employs it. Every faculty of mind or body with which he has
been endowed is contaminated by the subtle poison which is allowed to
proceed from his lips. It is a special application of the principle
laid down by Christ, which was at first a perplexity even to the
Twelve, "The things which proceed out of the man are those that defile
the man" (Mark vii. 15, 20, 23). The emphasis with which Christ taught
this ought to be noticed. On purpose to insist upon it, "He called to
Him the multitude _again_, and said unto them, Hear ye _all_ of you,
and _understand_: there is nothing from without the man, that going
into him can defile him; but the things which proceed out of the man
are those that defile the man." And He repeats this principle a second
and a third time to His disciples privately. "Are ye so without
understanding also?... That which proceedeth out of the man, that
defileth the man.... All these things proceed from within, and defile
the man." If even an unspoken thought can defile, when it has not yet
proceeded farther than the heart, much greater will be the pollution
if the evil thing is allowed to come to the birth by passing the
barrier of the lips. This flow of evil from us means nothing less than
this, that we have made ourselves a channel through which infernal
agencies pass into the world. Is it possible for such a channel to
escape defilement?
[67] There is a story that Amasis, King of Egypt, sent a sacrifice to
Bias the sage, asking him to send back the best part and the worst;
and Bias sent back the tongue.