_THE CITIES OF REFUGE._
JOSHUA XX.
Cities of refuge had a very prominent place assigned to them in the
records of the Mosaic legislation. First, in that which all allow to
be the earliest legislation (Exod. xx.-xxiii.) intimation is given of
God's intention to institute such cities (Exod. xxi. 13); then in
Numbers (xxxv. 9-34) the plan of these places is given in full, and
all the regulations applicable to them; again in Deuteronomy (xix.
1-13) the law on the subject is rehearsed; and finally, in this
chapter, we read how the cities were actually instituted, three on
either side of Jordan. This frequent introduction of the subject shows
that it was regarded as one of great importance, and leads us to
expect that we shall find principles underlying it of great value in
their bearing even on modern life.[25]
[25] These frequent references do not prevent modern critics from
affirming that the cities of refuge were no part of the Mosaic
legislation. They found this view upon the absence throughout the
history of all reference to them as being in actual use. They were
not instituted, it is said, till after the Exile. But the very
test that rejects them from the early legislation fails here.
There is no reference to them as actually occupied in the
post-exilian books, amounting, as these are said to do, to half
the Old Testament. Their occupation, it is said, with the other
Levitical cities, was postponed to the time of Messiah. The shifts
to which the critics are put in connection with this institution
do not merely indicate a weak point in their theory; they show
also how precarious is the position that when you do not _hear_ of
an institution as in actual operation you may conclude that it was
of later date.
Little needs to be said on the particular cities selected, except that
they were conveniently dispersed over the country. Kedesh in Galilee
in the northern part, Shechem in the central, and Hebron in the south,
were all accessible to the people in these regions respectively; as
were also, on the other side the river, Bezer in the tribes of Reuben,
Ramoth in Gilead, and Golan in Bashan. Those who are fond of detecting
the types of spiritual things in material, and who take a hint from
Heb. vi. 18, connecting these cities with the sinner's refuge in
Christ, naturally think in this connection of the nearness of the
Saviour to all who seek Him, and the certainty of protection and
deliverance when they put their trust in Him.
1. The first thought that naturally occurs to us when we read of these
cities concerns the sanctity of human life; or, if we take the
material symbol, the preciousness of human blood. God wished to
impress on His people that to put an end to a man's life under any
circumstances, was a serious thing. Man was something higher than the
beasts that perish. To end a human career; to efface by one dread act
all the joys of a man's life, all his dreams and hopes of coming good;
to snap all the threads that bound him to his fellows, perhaps to
bring want into the homes and desolation into the hearts of all who
loved him or leant on him--this, even if done unintentionally, was a
very serious thing. To mark this in a very emphatic way was the
purpose of these cities of refuge. Though in certain respects (as we
shall see) the practice of avenging blood by the next-of-kin
indicated a relic of barbarism, yet, as a testimony to the sacredness
of human life, it was characteristic of civilization. It is natural
for us to have a feeling, when through carelessness but quite
unintentionally one has killed another; when a young man, for example,
believing a gun to be unloaded, has discharged its contents into the
heart of his sister or his mother, and when the author of this deed
gets off scot-free,--we may have a feeling that something is wanting
to vindicate the sanctity of human life, and bear witness to the
terribleness of the act that extinguished it. And yet it cannot be
denied that in our day life is invested with pre-eminent sanctity.
Never, probably, was its value higher, or the act of destroying it
wilfully, or even carelessly, treated as more serious. Perhaps, too,
as things are with us, it is better in cases of unintentional killing
to leave the unhappy perpetrator to the punishment of his own
feelings, rather than subject him to any legal process, which, while
ending with a declaration of his innocence, might needlessly aggravate
a most excruciating pain.
It is not a very pleasing feature of the Hebrew economy that this
regard to the sanctity of human life was limited to members of the
Hebrew nation. All outside the Hebrew circle were treated as little
better than the beasts that perish. For Canaanites there was nothing
but indiscriminate slaughter. Even in the times of King David we find
a barbarity in the treatment of enemies that seems to shut out all
sense of brotherhood, and to smother all claim to compassion. We have
here a point in which even the Hebrew race were still far behind. They
had not come under the influence of that blessed Teacher who taught us
to love our enemies. They had no sense of the obligation arising from
the great truth that "God hath made of one blood all the nations of
men for to dwell on all the face of the earth." This is one of the
points at which we are enabled to see the vast change that was
effected by the spirit of Jesus Christ. The very psalms in some places
reflect the old spirit, for the writers had not learned to pray as He
did--"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."
2. Even as apportioned to the Hebrew people, there was still an
uncivilized element in the arrangements connected with these cities of
refuge. This lay in the practice of making the go-el, or nearest of
kin, the avenger of blood. The moment a man's blood was shed, the
nearest relative became responsible for avenging it. He felt himself
possessed by a spirit of retribution, which demanded, with
irrepressible urgency, the blood of the man who had killed his
relation. It was an unreasoning, restless spirit, making no allowance
for the circumstances in which the blood was shed, seeing nothing and
knowing nothing save that his relative had been slain, and that it was
his duty, at the earliest possible moment, to have blood for blood.
Had the law been perfect, it would have simply handed over the killer
to the magistrate, whose duty would have been calmly to investigate
the case, and either punish or acquit, according as he should find
that the man had committed a crime or had caused a misfortune. But, as
we have seen, it was characteristic of the Hebrew legislation that it
adapted itself to the condition of things which it found, and not to
an ideal perfection which the people were not capable of at once
realizing. In the office of the go-el there was much that was of
wholesome tendency. The feeling was deeply rooted in the Hebrew mind
that the nearest of kin was the guardian of his brother's life, and
for this reason he was bound to avenge his death; and instead of
crossing this feeling, or seeking wholly to uproot it, the object of
Moses was to place it under salutary checks, which should prevent it
from inflicting gross injustice where no crime had really been
committed. There was something both sacred and salutary in the
relation of the go-el to his nearest of kin. When poverty obliged a
man to dispose of his property, it was the go-el that was bound to
intervene and "redeem" the property. The law served as a check to the
cold spirit that is so ready to ask, in reference to one broken down,
"Am I my brother's keeper?" It maintained a friendly relation between
members of families that might otherwise have been entirely severed
from each other. The avenging of blood was regarded as one of the
duties resulting from this relation, and had this part of the duty
been rudely or summarily superseded, the whole relationship, with all
the friendly offices which it involved, might have suffered shipwreck.
3. The course to be followed by the involuntary manslayer was very
minutely prescribed. He was to hurry with all speed to the nearest
city of refuge, and stand at the entering of the gate till the elders
assembled, and then to declare his cause in their ears. If he failed
to establish his innocence, he got no protection; but if he made out
his case he was free from the avenger of blood, so long as he remained
within the city or its precincts. If, however, he wandered out, he was
at the mercy of the avenger. Further, he was to remain in the city
till the death of the high priest. Some have sought a mystical meaning
in this last regulation, as if the high priest figured the Redeemer,
and the death of the high priest the completion of redemption by the
death of Christ. But this is too far-fetched to be of weight. The
death of the high priest was probably fixed on as a convenient time
for releasing the manslayer, it being probable that by that time all
keen feeling in reference to his deed would have subsided, and no one
would then think that justice had been defrauded when a man with blood
on his hands was allowed to go at large.
4. As it was, the involuntary manslayer had thus to undergo a
considerable penalty. Having to reside in the city of refuge, he could
no longer cultivate his farm or follow his ordinary avocations; he
must have found the means of living in some new employment as best he
could. His friendships, his whole associations in life, were changed;
perhaps he was even separated from his family. To us all this appears
a harder line than justice would have prescribed. But, on the one
hand, it was a necessary testimony to the strong, though somewhat
unreasonable feeling respecting the awfulness, through whatever cause,
of shedding innocent blood. A man had to accept of this quietly, just
as many a man has to accept the consequences--the social outlawry, it
may be, and other penalties--of having had a father of bad character,
or of having been present in the company of wicked men when some evil
deed was done by them. Then, on the other hand, the fact that the
involuntary destruction of life was sure, even at the best, to be
followed by such consequences, was fitted to make men very careful.
They would naturally endeavour to the utmost to guard against an act
that might land them in such a situation; and thus the ordinary
operations of daily life would be rendered more secure. And perhaps it
was in this way that the whole appointment secured its end. Some laws
are never broken. And here may be the explanation of the fact that the
cities of refuge were not much used. In all Bible history we do not
meet with a single instance; but this might indicate, not the
non-existence of the institution, but the indirect success of the
provision, which, though framed to cure, operated by preventing. It
made men careful, and thus in silence checked the evil more
effectually than if it had often been put in execution.
The desire for vengeance is a very strong feeling of human nature. Nor
is it a feeling that soon dies out; it has been known to live, and to
live keenly and earnestly, even for centuries. We talk of ancient
barbarism; but even in comparatively modern times the story of its
deeds is appalling. Witness its operation in the island of Corsica.
The historian Filippini says that in thirty years of his own time
28,000 Corsicans had been murdered out of revenge. Another historian
calculates that the number of the victims of the Vendetta from 1359 to
1729 was 330,000.[26] If an equal number be allowed for the wounded,
we have 666,000 Corsicans victims of revenge. And Corsica was but one
part of Italy where the same passion raged. In former ages Florence,
Bologna, Verona, Padua, and Milan were conspicuous for the same wild
spirit. And, however raised, even by trifling causes, the spirit of
vengeance is uncontrollable. The causes, indeed, are often in
ludicrous disproportion to the effects. "In Ireland, for instance, it
is not so long since one of these blood-feuds in the county of
Tipperary had acquired such formidable proportions that the
authorities of the Roman Catholic Church there were compelled to
resort to a mission in order to put an end to it. A man had been
killed nearly a century before in an affray which commenced about the
age of a colt. His relatives felt bound to avenge the murder, and
their vengeance was again deemed to require fresh vengeance, until
faction fights between the 'Three Year Olds' and the 'Four Year Olds'
had grown almost into petty wars."[27] When we find the spirit of
revenge so blindly fierce even in comparatively modern times, we can
the better appreciate the necessity of such a check on its exercise as
the cities of refuge supplied. The mere fact that blood had been shed
was enough to rouse the legal avenger to the pitch of frenzy; in his
blind passion he could think of nothing but blood for blood; and if,
in the first excitement of the news, the involuntary manslayer had
crossed his path, nothing could have restrained him from falling on
him and crimsoning the ground with his blood.
[26] Gregorovius, "Wanderings in Corsica."
[27] "Pulpit Comment.," _in loco_.
In New Testament times the practice that committed the avenging of
blood to the nearest of kin seems to have fallen into abeyance. No
such keen desire for revenge was prevalent then. Such cases as those
now provided for were doubtless dealt with by the ordinary magistrate.
And thus our Lord could grapple directly with the spirit of revenge
and retaliation in all its manifestations. "Ye have heard that it was
said of old time, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth; but I
say unto you, Resist not him that is evil; but whosoever smiteth thee
on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also" (R.V.). The old
practice was hurtful, because, even in cases where punishment was
deserved, it made vengeance or retribution so much a matter of
personal feeling. It stimulated to the utmost pitch what was fiercest
in human temper. It is a far better system that commits the dealing
with crime to the hands of magistrates, who ought to be, and who are
presumed to be, exempt from all personal feeling in the matter. And
now, for those whose personal feelings are roused, whether in a case
of premeditated or of unintended manslaughter, or of any lesser injury
done to themselves, the Christian rule is that those personal feelings
are to be overcome; the law of love is to be called into exercise, and
retribution is to be left in the hands of the great Judge:--"Vengeance
is Mine; I will recompense, saith the Lord."
The attempt to find in the cities of refuge a typical representation
of the great salvation fails at every point but one. The safety that
was found in the refuge corresponds to the safety that is found in
Christ. But even in this point of view the city of refuge rather
affords an illustration than constitutes a type. The benefit of the
refuge was only for unintentional offences; the salvation of Christ is
for all. What Christ saves from is not our misfortune but our guilt.
The protection of the city was needed only till the death of the high
priest; the protection of Christ is needed till the great public
acquittal. All that the manslayer received in the city was safety; but
from Christ there is a constant flow of higher and holier blessings.
His name is called Jesus because He saves His people from their sins.
Not merely from the penalty, but from the sins themselves. It is His
high office not only to atone for sin, but to destroy it. "If the Son
makes you free, ye shall be free indeed." The virtue that goes out of
Him comes into contact with the lust itself and transforms it. The
final benefit of Christ is the blessing of transformation. It is the
acquisition of the Christlike spirit. "Moreover whom He did foreknow,
them He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son,
that He might be the firstborn of many brethren."
In turning an incident like this to account, as bearing on our modern
life, we are led to think how much harm we are liable to do to others
without intending harm, and how deeply we ought to be affected by this
consideration, when we discover what we have really done. We may be
helped here by thinking of the case of St. Paul. What harm he did in
the unconverted period of his life, without intending to do harm,
cannot be calculated. But when he came to the light, nothing could
have exceeded the depth of his contrition, and, to his last hour, he
could not think of the past without horror. It was his great joy to
know that his Lord had pardoned him, and that he had been able to find
one good use of the very enormity of his conduct--to show the
exceeding riches of His pardoning love. But, all his life long, the
Apostle was animated by an overwhelming desire to neutralise, as far
as he could, the mischief of his early life, and very much of the
self-denial and contempt of ease that continued to characterise him
was due to this vehement feeling. For though Paul felt that he had
done harm in ignorance, and for this cause had obtained mercy, he did
not consider that his ignorance excused him altogether. It was an
ignorance that proceeded from culpable causes, and that involved
effects from which a rightly ordered heart could not but recoil.
In the case of His own murderers our blessed Lord, in His beautiful
prayer, recognised a double condition,--they were ignorant, yet they
were guilty, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."
They were ignorant of what they were doing, and yet they were doing
what needed forgiveness, because it involved guilt. And what we admire
in Paul is, that he did not make his ignorance a self-justifying plea,
but in the deepest humility owned the inexcusableness of his conduct.
To have done harm to our fellow-creatures under any circumstances is a
distressing thing, even when we meant the best; but to have down harm
to their moral life owing to something wrong in our own, is not only
distressing, but humiliating. It is something which we dare not
lightly dismiss from our minds, under the plea that we meant the best,
but unfortunately we were mistaken. Had we been more careful, had our
eye been more single, we should have been full of light, and we should
have known that we were not taking the right way to do the best.
Errors in moral life always resolve themselves into disorder of our
moral nature, and, if traced to their source, will bring to light some
fault of indolence, or selfishness, or pride, or carelessness, which
was the real cause of our mistaken act.
And where is the man--parent, teacher, pastor, or friend--that does
not become conscious, at some time or other, of having influenced for
harm those committed to his care? We taught them, perhaps, to despise
some good man whose true worth we have afterwards been led to see. We
repressed their zeal when we thought it misdirected, with a force
which chilled their enthusiasm and carnalised their hearts. We failed
to stimulate them to decision for Christ, and allowed the golden
opportunity to pass which might have settled their relation to God all
the rest of their life. The great realities of the spiritual life were
not brought home to them with the earnestness, the fidelity, the
affection that was fitting. "Who can understand his errors?" Who among
us but, as he turns some new corner in the path of life, as he reaches
some new view-point, as he sees a new flash from heaven reflected on
the past,--who among us but feels profoundly that all his life has
been marred by unsuspected flaws, and almost wishes that he had never
been born? Is there no city of refuge for us to fly to, and to escape
the condemnation of our hearts?
It is here that the blessed Lord presents Himself to us in a most
blessed light. "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest." Do we not labour indeed, are we not in
truth very heavy laden, when we feel the burden of unintentional evil,
when we feel that unconsciously we have been doing hurt to others, and
incurring the curse of him who causeth the blind to stumble? Are we
not heavy laden indeed when we cannot be sure that even yet we are
thoroughly on the right track--when we feel that peradventure we are
still unconsciously continuing the mischief in some other form? Yet is
not the promise true?--"I will give you rest." I will give you pardon
for the past, and guidance for the future. I will deliver you from the
feeling that you have been all your life sowing seeds of mischief,
sure to spring up and pervert those whom you love most dearly. I will
give you comfort in the thought that as I have guided you, I will
guide them, and you shall have a vision of the future, that may no
doubt include some of the terrible features of the shipwreck of St.
Paul, but of which the end will be the same--" and so it came to pass
that they escaped all safe to land."
And let us learn a lesson of charity. Let us learn to be very
considerate of mischief done by others either unintentionally or in
ignorance. What more inexcusable than the excitement of parents over
their children or of masters over their servants, when, most
undesignedly and not through sheer carelessness, an article of some
value is broken or damaged? Have you never done such a thing yourself?
And if a like torrent fell on you then from _your_ parent or master,
did you not feel bitterly that it was unjust? And do you not even now
have the same feeling when your temper cools? How bitter the thought
of having done injustice to those dependent on you, and of having
created in their bosoms a sullen sense of wrong! Let them have their
city of refuge for undesigned offences, and never again pursue them or
fall on them in the excited spirit of the avenger of blood!
So also with regard to opinions. Many who differ from us in religious
opinion differ through ignorance. They have inherited their opinions
from their parents or their other ancestors. Their views are shared by
nearly all whom they love and with whom they associate; they are
contained in their familiar books; they are woven into the web of
their daily life. If they were better instructed, if their minds were
more free from prejudice, they might agree with us more. Let us make
for them the allowance of ignorance, and let us make it not bitterly
but respectfully. They are doing much mischief, it may be. They are
retarding the progress of beneficent truth; they are thwarting your
endeavours to spread Divine light. But they are doing it ignorantly.
If you are not called to provide for them a city of refuge, cover them
at least with the mantle of charity. Believe that their intentions are
better than their acts. Live in the hope of a day "when perfect light
shall pour its rays," when all the mists of prejudice shall be
scattered, and you shall perhaps find that in all that is vital in
Christian truth and for the Christian life, you and your brethren were
not so far separate after all.