But his character was more than innocent; this, as the astonished centurion exclaimed, “Truly, this man was the _Son of God_!” Well might she wonder that no angel appeared to rescue the expiring Redeemer, and that he who had saved others did not save himself! Well might she have been confounded at the mysterious circumstance, that he whom winds and waves obeyed, and whose presence on earth was felt by universal nature, should die in apparent disgrace, exposed to the raillery of his inveterate enemies!
This afflicted mother was also a _widow_! Long since the evangelical narrative has dropped the name of her husband, doubtless because Joseph was no more; but Jesus survived to console her amidst domestic misfortunes, to cheer her declining days, to prop her falling house, to pour the wine of consolation into her cup of sorrow, and the light of celestial truth into her mind. He was all goodness, all perfection, who could never forget a mother–a _widowed_ mother, wherever “he went about doing good”–was to this awful hour her staff and comfort. How keen was the edge of that piercing sword of which Simeon spake, and what unparralleled grief was hers when she saw the cross, and the tortures, and the blood of her Son!
Notwithstanding all, Mary is not seen wringing her hands and tearing her hair in distraction; nor is she heard to utter intemperate language against his persecutors, or to manifest resentment at the dispensations of Heaven: she neither curses man, nor blasphemes God; nor do we observe her fainting beneath the pressure of accumulated woes; but she stands near the cross, in solemn silence, pondering, in an attitude of profound meditation, and submitting to the purposes of Providence.
Let us admire the power of that “grace” which is promised to Christians, “to help them in time of need,” and of the efficacy of which the present scene furnishes so substantial an evidence. Is it possible that after such a record as this we should ever doubt or forget the divine assurances–“My grace is sufficient for thee”–“When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire thou shall not be burnt, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee?” Should thy desponding heart be ready to distrust the wisdom or deny the goodness of thy “Father who is in heaven,” when sorrows, diversified and oppressive, burden thy spirit, think of the mother of Jesus at the cross of her Son!
If the sublime sympathy of Mary prevented the recollection of her personal condition, Jesus was not so overwhelmed with affliction as to be unmindful of the future lot of his poor, pennyless, helpless, widowed, and weeping mother; but committed her to the care of his disciple JOHN, directing him to regard her henceforward as a mother, and her to consider him as a son. _Woman, behold thy son_–“My beloved disciple will fulfil every office of filial tenderness, and at my request he will receive and provide for my destitute parent.” _Behold_, said he, addressing John, _behold thy mother_; “take her to thy house, allow her to share thy means, respect and supply her as the most endeared relative of thy dying Lord. I have no property to leave, no silver or gold to distribute: this is my fond and my only bequest. I have confidence in thy attachment, and when thou dost minister to _her_ thou wilt remember _me_.”
From this exquisitely touching and instructive scene we must take a lesson of _dependence on the providence of God_. If he inflict unexpected trials, he affords unexpected supplies. His resources are numberless; and he who raised up John to supply the place of an endeared Son to Mary, can never be at loss for expedients when his people are in distress. One prop is removed, another is substituted. “O fear the Lord, all ye his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him.” Earthly cisterns may indeed be broken, and temporal streams of enjoyment may cease, but “the fountain of living waters” is inexhaustible.
Take a lesson _of filial piety_. Children are under an indispensable obligation to succour their aged parents. If amidst the agonies of crucifixion, Jesus so carefully provided for the future comfort of his maternal parent, be assured “he has set an _example_ wherein we should follow his steps;” and disrespect to such claims is a dereliction of our character, and a forfeiture of our profession as the disciples of Christ.
Learn to _be prompt in your obedience to every requisition of your Lord_. It is an honour to be employed by him in any service, whatever it may cost us. John did not hesitate, or indulge in surmisings; he did not think of the trouble, the expense, or the possible danger of harbouring the mother of one who was executed as an enemy to Cesar; but “from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.” If the sacred history had followed him to his lowly habitation, where our imaginations are ready to accompany John and his venerable charge, it would doubtless have exhibited a specimen of tender friendship and unwearied assiduity. What could John deny to the mother of his Lord? How eagerly would he promote her comfort! What “sweet converse” would they “hold together” upon the life, the miracles, the doctrines, the precepts, the death of Jesus! What a gleam of light and joy would the remembrance of one so dear throw upon the darkest scene of their lives, and how would the glory of his subsequent ascension, and dignity in the invisible world, occupy their daily intercourse and their most devotional moments! “The sweet hour of prime,” and the serenity of “evening mild,” and “twilight gray,” would still find them amidst the wonders of the cross or the triumphs of the resurrection.
Nothing more is said of Mary till we come to the Acts of the Apostles, where a brief but honourable notice closes her history. In an upper room at Jerusalem “abode Peter, and James, and John, and Andrew, Philip, and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alpheus, and Simon Zelotes, and Judas the brother of James. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and _Mary, the mother of Jesus_, and with his brethren.”
It is supposed that John took her with him to Ephesus, where she died in an extreme old age. There is a letter of the oecumenical council of Ephesus, importing, that in the fifth century it was believed she was buried there; but some authors think she was buried at Jerusalem.
Section IV.
Brief Account of the extravagant Regard which has been paid to the Virgin Mary at different Periods–the Names by which she has been addressed, and the Festivals instituted to honour her Memory–general Remarks on the Nature and Character of Superstition, particularly that of the Catholics.
After reviewing, as we have done in the preceding pages, the _facts_ which are stated by the evangelists respecting the life of the mother of Jesus, the reader perhaps will not be displeased if he be presented with some of the _fictions_ with which the fancy and the folly of the human race have combined to embellish her history. That she has a claim upon the respect of every age and nation, will not be disputed: but we must condemn as well as compassionate that weakness which has exalted her into an object of worship, and filled the temples, which ought to have been devoted to the service of God, with unauthorized addresses, unscriptural rites, and idolatrous disfigurements.
The first notice we have in history of undue honour being rendered to the Virgin Mary is about the close of the fourth century, when the _Collyridians_ adored her as a goddess; and by various libations and sacrifices sought her protection, and hoped to avert her displeasure.
Soon after this period corruptions multiplied in the church to an extravagant degree, and mankind departed more and more from the simplicity of religion. A disposition to pomp and parade usually marks a decline in piety; for wherever “the beauty of holiness” is preserved, gaudy decorations and splendid formalities will be deemed unnecessary. Surely God is not honoured by a service which he has never instituted, and which is only calculated to divert the mind from the proper business of devotion and the supreme object of religious homage! In the fifth century, therefore, as piety languished, magnificence, with all her costly train, obtruded into notice. The riches of the church increased to an amazing extent; the altars, and chests for the preservation of relics, were made of silver; images adorned, or rather defiled, every niche; and the Virgin Mary, holding the child Jesus in her arms, every where occupied a conspicuous place. She had, besides, universally acquired the title of ÎεοÏÎ¿Ï Î¿Ï, or _mother of God_, which occasioned the Nestorian controversy.
The idolatrous service of Mary assumed, in the tenth century, new forms of extravagance and absurdity. Among the Latin churches, masses were celebrated every sabbath; and afterward, what is termed the _lesser office_ was performed in honour of St. Mary. There are also indications of the institution of the _Rosary_ and _Crown_, by which her worshippers were to calculate the number of prayers offered: the former consisted of fifteen repetitions of the Lord’s prayer, and a hundred and fifty salutations of the Virgin: the latter, of six or seven repetitions of the Lord’s prayer, and six or seven times ten salutations, or Ave Marias.
About the year 1138 a solemn festival was instituted to celebrate the immaculate conception of the Virgin, of whom it was pretended, that her own birth partook of a similar purity to that which attached to her divine offspring. This doctrine was opposed by St. Bernard; but the French churches adopted it, and the superstition of the people contributed to its establishment. The subject was again debated with extreme virulence in the seventeenth century, between the Franciscans and Dominicans, in which the pope interposed a mediatorial power. The opinion of the former, who maintained the doctrine, was declared to have a high degree of probability in its favour, and the latter were required not to oppose it publicly; while the Franciscans were prohibited from treating the Dominican doctrine as erroneous. [20]
It is lamentable to see the profusion of eloquence and ingenuity which some of the most penetrating minds have expended on this subject. In all the Catholic writings we meet with impassioned addresses to the Virgin, appeals on her behalf to the feelings of piety, and a frequent celebration of her matchless perfections. The theological oracle of the French church distinctly states that “as the innocence of Jesus Christ is the life and salvation of sinners, so, through the innocence of the holy Virgin, he obtains pardon for the guilty,” exhorting his hearers to “cleanse away their sins in the glorious splendour of her incorruptible purity,” and adding, that “to undertake to describe the perfections of Mary, would be to fathom a bottomless abyss.”
After representing the Saviour as making particular choice of Mary for himself, Bossuet bestows upon her the epithets of _beloved creature, extraordinary creature, unique and privileged creature_; and continues thus: “The Saviour imparted to his apostles and ministers whatever was most adapted to promote the salvation of mankind; but he communicated to his holy mother whatever was most pleasing, most glorious, and most delightful to himself; consequently, I doubt not that he made Mary innocent. She is his unique, and he is hers. _Dilectus meus mihi et ego illi_ (‘my beloved is mine and I am his.’) I have only him, and he has only me.” I know well that innocence ought not to be easily lavished on our corrupt nature, but it is no profuse expenditure to bestow it upon his mother only: while to refuse to her would surely be too great a reserve.
“No, my brethren, this is not my Saviour’s conduct: on Mary, from the moment of her birth, I behold the innocence of Jesus Christ shining and adorning her head. O honour this new ray of light which her divine Son already sheds upon her! ‘The night is far spent, the day is at hand;’ Jesus will quickly bring this day by his own blessed presence. O happy day! O day without cloud! O day, which the innocence of the divine Jesus will render so serene and pure, when wilt thou come to illuminate the world?–Christians, it approaches; let us rejoice in already discovering its dawn in the birth of the holy Virgin–_Natâ Virgine surrexit aurora_, says the pious father Damien. Can you be astonished after this, if I assert that Mary was without spot from the first moment of her appearance in the world? As the great day of Christ was to be so clear and splendid, was it not proper that even its commencement should be beautiful, and that the serenity of the morning should indicate that of the day? ‘It is on this account,’ as father Damien observes, ‘that Mary, who introduced this illustrious day diffused a brightness over the morning by her nativity–_Maria, veri proevia luminis, nativitate suâ mane clarissimum serenavit_.’ Hasten then, brethren, hasten with joy to behold the beginnings of this new day: we shall see it shine in the attractive light of an untarnished purity!”……_Bossuet’s Sermon_.
Bossuet had sufficient ingenuity to construct a plausible defence of a sentiment which, however adapted to supply a theme for eloquent declamation, is not to be found in Scripture. “It must be admitted,” says he, “that Mary would have been involved in the general ruin of mankind, had not the merciful Physician who heals our diseases determined to imbue her beforehand with his preventing grace. Sin, which like a torrent overflowed the world, would have polluted this holy Virgin with its poisonous waves; but Omnipotence can stop, whenever he pleases, the most impetuous force. Observe with what ardour the sun pursues the vast circuit which Providence has assigned him; and yet you cannot be ignorant that God once caused him to stand still in the midst of heaven at the voice of a man. Those who inhabit the vicinity of Jordan, the celebrated river of Palestine, know with what rapidity it discharges itself into the Dead Sea, if I am correct as to the place; nevertheless, the whole Israelitish army saw it roll back to its source to form a passage for the ark, where their omnipotent Sovereign resided. Is any thing more natural than the consuming effect of heat in fire issuing out of a furnace? And yet was not the impious Nebuchadnezzar surprised with the sight of three happy individuals rejoicing in the midst of the flames which his merciless minions had kindled–but kindled in vain? But notwithstanding all these examples, may we not truly say, that there is no fire which does not burn, that the sun performs his course with unceasing progress, and that no river flows back to its source? We are accustomed to a similar mode of speaking every day, without being checked by these extraordinary occurrences, of which no one is ignorant. Whence does this arise, Christians? Doubtless from the habit of conversing according to the ordinary course of things; though God chooses sometimes to act conformably to the dictates of his own omnipotence, independently of human notions.
“I am not astonished, therefore, that the apostle Paul has expressed himself in such general terms respecting the sin of our first parents’ having occasioned the death of all their posterity. According the natural course of things, which the apostle is stating in that place, to be born of the race of Adam necessarily includes, in the ordinary sense of the word, being born in sin. It is not more natural for fire to burn, than for this accursed depravity to infect every one it touches with corruption and death. No poison is more active, no plague more powerful and penetrating. But I maintain, that this curse, however universal, that all these propositions, however general they may be, do not preclude the exceptions which may be made by the Supreme Disposer, or particular interpositions of his authority. And on what occasion, great God, could thine unlimited power, which itself is law, be more properly employed than in conferring peculiar favour upon Mary?” [21]
In the Litanies the Virgin is denominated “the Mother of God, the Queen of Angels, the Refuge of Sinners, the Mother of Mercy, the Gate of Heaven, the Mystic Rose, the Virgin of Virgins,” &c. [22]
Father Barry, in his “Paradise opened to Philagia by a hundred Devotions to the Mother of God, of easy performance,” says, “It is open to such as confine themselves to their chambers, or carry about them an image of the Virgin, and look steadfastly upon it–who, night and morning, beg her benediction, standing near some of the churches dedicated to her, or contribute to the relief of the poor for her sake–who, out of a pious regard for her, avoid pronouncing the name of Mary when they read, but make use of some other instead of it–who beg of the angels to salute the mother of God in their name, who give honourable appellations to her images, and cast amorous glances at them,” &c.
In this work it is expressly stated, that “as many separate devotions to the mother of God as you find in this book, are so many keys of heaven, which will open all paradise to you, provided you only practise them;” and afterward it is added, that “any _one_ of them is sufficient.” Take the following specimen: “Salute the holy Virgin wherever you meet her image; repeat the little chaplet of the ten pleasures of the Virgin; often pronounce the name of _Mary_; commission the angels to give your duty to her; cherish a desire to build more churches to her than all the kings of the world put together; wish her a good day every morning, and a good night every evening; say the _Ave Maria_ every day, in honour of the heart of Mary.” [23]
In the earliest ages she was called Queen of angels and Mother of God; afterward, the spirit of controversy induced her advocates to adopt every possible device to make her considerable among heretics, and to accustom her devotees to extravagant expressions. She has been represented as the _disposer and depository of God’s favours, the treasurer and queen of heaven, the spring and fountain of salvation and life, the mother of light, the intercessor between God and man, the hope of mankind, the ocean of the Deity_! Almost an absolute and sovereign power over her Son our Saviour has been ascribed to her. The psalter, nay the whole Bible, has been applied to her, and proofs by miracles and apparitions furnished, that the virgin appeases the wrath of Christ against sinners, and possesses the power of absolving, binding, and loosening. Temples and altars have been erected, and invocations addressed to her.
The Jesuit, who published the Psalter of our Lady, in French, exhorts the devout Christian who pronounces these words in the introduction, _Holy Lady, open thou my lips_, &c. “to make two signs of the cross when he repeats them, one upon his lips with his thumb, and the other upon himself with his hand, as the priests do when they begin their canonical hours.” This method, he assures us, will procure the devotee the honour and happiness of being canon or canoness of heaven; and our lady, to reward so conspicuous and instructive an act of devotion, will admit him into paradise. He gives a pattern of the vows which the devotee is to make “for Jesus and Mary’s sake, and for all the lovers of them both, whether male or female.” He describes the alliance to be made by him with the _most amiable and honourable mother of all mothers_, the act of repentance and contrition for the reconciliation of himself with her, and all the ceremonies, great and small, by which he may devote himself to the blessed Virgin.
Whoever hopes to obtain the benedictions of the Virgin, must salute her every day, both at his going out and coming in. The legends have transmitted several remarkable instances of the advantages arising from the repetition of the _Ave Maria_–not to mention a thousand day’s indulgence granted by some of the popes (Leo X. and Paul V.) to those who shall repeat it at the hour of the _Angelus_.
St. Margarite, of Hungary, said an Ave kneeling before every image of the Virgin she met in her way–St. Catharine, of Sienna, repeated as many Aves as she went up steps to her house.
Fasting on _Saturday_, in honour of the Virgin, is looked upon as a treasure of indulgences and delights, and as an excellent preservative against eternal damnation.
Various festivals are instituted to commemorate her, such as the Purification, the Annunciation, the Visitation, and others.
The fifth of August is the festival of _our Lady of the Snow_. We are informed that the solemnization of it was owing to a miracle. When Liberius was pontiff, a patrician, or Roman nobleman, finding himself old and childless, resolved, with his wife’s approbation, to make the blessed Virgin his sole heiress. The vow being made with great devotion, their principal concern, in the next place, was to employ their inheritance conformably to our Lady’s will: and accordingly they applied themselves to fasting, praying, giving alms to the poor, and visiting the sick, to know her pleasure.
The Virgin at length appeared to each of them in a dream, and told them “it was her and her Son’s will, that they should employ their effects in erecting a church for her on a particular part of the _Mons Esquilinus_, which they should find covered with snow.” The pious husband first communicated the revelation to his wife, who told him, with great surprise, that she had had the same revelation that very night. But, supposing the two dreams had not proved alike, an excess of zeal would have been sufficient to have given them all the _conformity_ that was requisite; These two devotees went immediately and declared their dreams to the pope, who perceived that he was a third man in the revelation; for his holiness had been favoured with the same vision. It was no longer questioned, but that heaven was engaged in this affair. The pontiff assembled the clergy together, and there was a solemn procession to Mount Esquiline, on purpose to find out whether the miracle were real or not; when the place specified in the dream was found covered with snow. The ground was exactly of a suitable extent to erect a church upon, which was afterward called _Liberius’s Basilica_, and _St. Mary ad præcepe_, (because the manger, which was used as a cradle for our Lady, was brought thither from Bethlehem,) and is now called _St. Mary Major_. Every festival day, the commemoration of this miracle is revived, by letting fall white jessamine leaves, after so artificial a manner, as to imitate the falling of snow upon the ground. [24]
It has even been asserted, that the apostle Peter consecrated a chapel to the Virgin, a story which accords perfectly well with other absurdities. The Spaniards attribute a similar act of devotion to James at _Saragossa_; and some add, that the angels were the architects of the chapel. It is decorated in the most costly manner with silver angels, lamps, and other furniture, with the Virgin magnificently dressed on a marble pillar. The walls are hung with feet, arms, hands, and other parts of the human body, as grateful oblations to the Virgin, for the miraculous cures she is supposed to have performed upon these members.
At _Madrid_, our lady of Atocha resides in a chapel which blazes with a hundred lamps made of gold and silver, and is celebrated for as many miracles as at Loretto and other places. The history of her first settlement at _Liesse_, in Picardy, is thus related. During the crusades, an Egyptian princess resolving to have an image of the Virgin, addressed herself to three gentlemen of Picardy, who were prisoners at Cairo, one of whom made an attempt to paint her, though ignorant of the art. Having failed, he and his companions presented earnest supplications to the Virgin, after which they fell asleep. As soon as they awoke, they found an image of our Lady, accurately performed, which they transmitted to the princess; who, in return, set them at liberty. She was, of course, converted to the Christian faith by this image; and the three gentlemen miraculously escaped out of Egypt, and on a sudden found themselves, by a continuation of the miracle, in Picardy, on the very spot where the church of _our Lady of Liesse_ is now erected.
Her devotees carry representations of the Virgin about them, deck her images with flowers, dress them in silks or other costly ornaments, burn tapers before them, kiss and look upon them with a languishing eye, touch them with their chaplets, rub their handkerchiefs upon them, and salute them with the profoundest veneration.
Her relics are innumerable–such as her wedding ring, handkerchiefs, combs, slippers and goods of every description, as kitchen furniture, toilette, earthenware, lamps; and even, as it is pretended, her gloves, bed, chair, head-clothes, with other rarities.
“Surely,” says archbishop Tillotson, “if this _blessed among women, the mother of our Lord_, (for I keep to the titles which the Scripture gives her,) have any sense of what we do here below, she cannot but look down with the greatest disdain upon that sacrilegious and idolatrous worship which is paid to her, to the high dishonour of the great God and our Saviour, and the infinite scandal of his religion. How can she, without indignation, behold how they play the fool in the church of Rome about her; what an idol they make of her image, and with what sottishness they give divine honour to it; how they place her in their idolatrous pictures in equal rank with the blessed Trinity, and turn the salutation of the angel, _Ave Maria, hail Mary, full of grace_, into a kind of prayer; and, in their bead-roll of devotion, repeat it ten times, for once that they say the Lord’s prayer, as of greater virtue and efficacy? And, indeed, they almost justle out the devotion due to Almighty God and our blessed Saviour, by their endless idolatry to her.
“So that the greater part of their religion, both public and private, is made up of that which was no part at all of the religion of the apostles and primitive Christians; nay, which plainly contradicts it: for that expressly teacheth us, that there is but one object of our prayers, and one Mediator by whom we are to make our addresses to God. ‘There is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus,’ says St. Paul, when he gives a standing rule concerning prayer in the Christian church. And yet, notwithstanding all the care that our blessed Saviour and his apostles could take to prevent gross idolatry of the blessed mother of our Lord, how blindly and wilfully have the church of Rome run into it! and, in despite of the clearest evidence and conviction, do obstinately and impudently persist in it, and justify themselves in so abominable a practice.”
In the homage rendered to the Virgin Mary by the Catholics, the servility of superstition appears blended with the zeal of enthusiasm. Having departed from Scripture, that only light which shines upon the path of obedience, and conducts to God, they naturally lose themselves amidst the perplexities of error and the mazes of falsehood: it need not, therefore, occasion surprise though their course should be eccentric, or their conduct preposterous. The passions being chiefly engaged in this service, and kept in exercise by fear or fondness, reason retires; and imagination, supported by these auxiliaries, sways the sceptre. The absurdities, however, to which under such circumstances the human mind becomes addicted, would seem utterly unaccountable, were it not for the gradual manner of their influence. The victory over judgment and common sense is not secured at a blow, but by perpetual insinuation. The hopes or fears of mankind are wrought upon _individually_ from the period of infancy, long previous to the age when reason attains its vigour and maturity,–and _nationally_ by a slow and almost insensible accumulation of frivolous or ridiculous observances from century to century. A natural consciousness of weakness renders man the dupe of deception, and an equal sense of guilt makes him the slave of terror. Hence he readily avails himself of every means which he fancies capable of alleviating his anxieties, and in his eagerness to escape the wretchedness of apprehension or the suffering of evil, flies to unscriptural resources.
The pre-eminence of man over the brute creation arises chiefly from his capacity of knowing God and serving him in the appointed exercises of religion; and yet the perversion of this capacity, by the invention of superstitious ceremonies, has rendered him utterly contemptible. In the services of real piety, he appears elevated to the summit of creation, his nature seems ennobled, and his character encircled with glory; but, in the practices of superstition, he is degraded to the lowest depth of meanness of which an intellectual and immortal being is capable. By the former he soars to “glory, honour, and immortality;” by the latter he sinks to wretchedness and ruin. In the one case he is useful and happy; in the other, inactive, isolated, and full of disquietude; and thus either rises into grandeur or falls into littleness,–is an angel or a brute!
Whoever reviews the several religious errors of the Pagan, Jewish, and Christian communities, will admit, that the history of superstition constitutes one of the most offensive pages in the annals of mankind; he will see the object of worship misrepresented, the universe partitioned into petty sovereignties, and Deity divided, contracted, and localized; religion turned into mockery, and mockery into religion.
It is somewhat difficult to trace the operations and to ascertain the true character of superstition, although it has prevailed so extensively in the world, and produced such extraordinary effects. Amongst other anomalies, this is observable, that it not only has led captive weak and ignorant minds, which being unable to detect a specious sophism, or to depart from a general practice, may easily be supposed incapable of resisting its fascination; but it has been known to seduce and enchain some of the noblest orders of intellect, and the most cultivated of human understandings. Whole nations and successive generations have been subjected to its influence, furnishing ample evidence of that statement, which, if it be not repeated in every page of Scripture, lies at the foundation of all its truths; and into which many of the peculiarities of this principle may be resolved: “The world by wisdom knew not God.”
Superstition is unquestionably founded in mean and absurd ideas of the moral attributes of the Deity, which produce corresponding actions, and in assigning to him an arbitrary character, deriving pleasure from what has no connexion with the happiness of the worshipper. A consistent and dignified conduct can only result from a just estimate of the divine perfections, and a correct view of moral obligation. The worship we render to a superior being, must necessarily be shaped and regulated by our conceptions of the nature of God; consequently, mankind will degenerate into error and folly, proportionate to their departure from the representations of Scripture respecting the spirituality of his essence.
To this source may be traced especially the principles and practices of the Romish church, in which reason is outraged, religion caricatured, and God dishonoured. Transubstantiation is a doctrine manifestly absurd and impious; and the practice of presenting those supplications to dead saints, which the Supreme Being alone can hear and answer, is no less ridiculous, as well as subversive of true piety. Perhaps, however, no deviation from common sense is more remarkable than those extravagancies of the Catholics which respect the Virgin Mary; and yet these have not only been practised by the multitude, but defended by men of learning with the utmost subtlety and the warmest zeal. In fact, she has been praised by every Catholic pen for ages; and every term that language could supply has been put in requisition to extol her merits.
Let the view we have given of these misstatements excite us to self-examination, in order that we may discover any incorrectness or deficiency in our own apprehensions of religion, and become vigilant over those errors into which we may be apt to deviate. It will be studying man to some purpose, if the better we are acquainted with the history of the human mind, the greater the circumspection we exercise over ourselves. We shall then be less imposed upon by the speciousness of falsehood, and less betrayed by the weakness of our passions; we shall be led to “present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,” and feel that it is our “_reasonable service_.”
Elizabeth.
Chapter II.
The angelic Appearance to Zacharias–Birth of John–Characters of Elizabeth and Zacharias–Importance of domestic Union being founded on Religion, shown in them–their venerable Age–the characteristic Features of their Piety–the Happiness of a Life like theirs–the Effect it is calculated to produce on others–the Perpetuation of holy friendship through immortal Ages–the miserable Condition of the irreligious.
Obscure as were the circumstances in which Christ appeared, Infinite Wisdom saw fit to furnish miraculous attestations to his character and mission. This evidence attended him during the whole of his career, investing him with a heavenly glory, and rendering his pre-eminence distinctly visible to the eye of faith, notwithstanding his assumed inferiority.
It was in unison with this scheme of Providence to send the most exalted of angelic beings to announce the birth of Messiah, and to prepare the minds of Mary his mother, of the shepherds who were to circulate the intelligence, and of others more nearly or more remotely interested in the event, by celestial visitations. For similar reasons it comported with the nature of this wonderful event, to attach something peculiar and even miraculous to the birth of his precursor, whose destined office it should be to “prepare the way of the Lord,” by uttering his “voice in the wilderness,” and intimating to mankind the mighty transformations about to be effected in the moral state of the world. Six months, therefore, previously to the annunciation to Mary, the angel Gabriel descended to proclaim “glad tidings” to Zacharias. In the performance of his customary service as a priest, he had gone into the temple to burn incense, while the people were praying without the holy place. On a sudden, he perceived an angel standing on the right side of the altar, and became exceedingly agitated, till the benevolent spirit addressed him in affectionate and congratulatory terms. Ah! _they_ have no reason to dread a message from the world of spirits, or to be filled with apprehensions at the sight of other orders of beings than those with which they are conversant, who are engaged in the discharge of their duties, and live under the influence of religion! However new or extraordinary such revelations, they never could have been real causes of alarm to the servants of God; and were they not at present suspended, in consequence of the completion of the intended communications of truth to mankind, piety ought rather to welcome than to dread them.
Zacharias was assured that his prayer was heard, and that his wife Elizabeth should have a son to be named John. As a sign of the accomplishment of this prediction, and as a chastisement of the doubt with which the message was at first received, he was struck with dumbness, which continued only till the birth of his child.
The interview between Elizabeth and Mary, the mother of our Lord, has been already adverted to in the preceding narrative, where the salutations of these favoured relatives were recited. At the expiration of the appointed time, Elizabeth bare a son whom they would have called after the name of Zacharias, but his mother interposed; and the affair being finally referred to his father, he wrote, to the general astonishment of their neighbours and relatives, who had remonstrated in vain, “His name is John.” Immediately his speech was restored, and he broke out in impassioned strains of praise: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and redeemed his people, and hath raised up an horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David; as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began: that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us; to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant; the oath which he sware to our father Abraham, that he would grant unto us, that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of our life. And thou, child, shall be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shall go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways; to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Reverting to the commencement of this history by the evangelist Luke, we shall be led to notice the domestic characters of Zacharias and Elizabeth, particularly as they illustrate the excellence of a life of piety. While religion adorns every station, it teaches us to fulfil every relative duty; and acting under its influence, a person becomes a light in the world, diffusing through the family, the social circle, and the more extended sphere of busy life, a mild and beneficent radiance.
Our attention is first directed to the office of Zacharias, and the descent of his wife. He was a _priest_, and she “of the daughters of Aaron.” The world affords too many evidences, that piety is neither created by station, nor hereditary in its transmission. As Zacharias was a minister of the sanctuary, it was both to be _desired_ and _expected_ that he should not approach the altar with a hardened and unsanctified heart. “Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? and who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath not lift up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.” Yet, alas! it is not always to be presumed that real religion accompanies either the brightest profession or the most dignified office! Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, offered “strange fire,” Judas betrayed the Son of God, and Paul expresses an apprehension “lest, having preached to others,” he should himself “be a castaway.” The admonition, therefore, of God by Isaiah is appropriate and striking: “Be ye clean that bear the vessels of the Lord.” It is possible to be a preacher of righteousness, and yet a child of Satan–a priest, and yet a demon–a worker of miracles, and yet a “worker of iniquity:” but a pleasing exception to this remark occurs in the history of Zacharias, who was “a _priest_, and _righteous_ before God.” His _office_ and his _character_ accorded, and the light of his example shone with unclouded brightness and attractive glory.
It is observable, that Elizabeth, the wife of this holy priest, was equally distinguished with himself for a sincere and active piety. “They were BOTH righteous before God;” and it was their privilege to live at that eventful moment when the clouds that obscured the past dispensations of Providence were tinged with the rising glory of the day which was just breaking upon the nations of the earth, and which lighted these pilgrims home to their eternal rest. They were some of the last of the Jewish and the first of the Christian economy, and their life seemed to form the bright line which bordered the typical ages and those of unshadowed truth and Christian revelation.
Zacharias and Elizabeth exhibit an attractive picture of union both natural and religious; the hymenial tie was intertwined with celestial roses, which diffused a fragrance over domestic life; their love to each other was strengthened and sanctified by their love to God.
The perfection of conjugal felicity with every good man depends upon the existence of similar religious principles and feelings with those which influence himself in the partner of his life; consequently, it will ever be his concern “to marry in the Lord.” No language can express the bitterness of that pang which rends his heart when a dissimilarity of taste prevails in so important an affair. It is a worm for ever gnawing the root of his peace, and will prevent its growth even under the brightest sun of worldly prosperity. Let those especially who are forming connections in life, and who “love Christ in sincerity,” reflect on the fatal consequences of devoting their affections to such as can never accompany them to the house of God but with reluctance, or to the throne of grace but with weariness and aversion. If the object of your fondest regard be an unbeliever, what a cloud will darken your serenest days, what unutterable grief disturb your otherwise peaceful sabbaths! Your pleasures and your pains of a religious kind, which are the most intense, will be equally unparticipated. You must walk alone in those ways of pleasantness which would be still more endeared by such sweet society; and you must suffer the keenest sorrows of the heart–_perhaps_ without daring to name them, and _certainly_ without one tear, one word, one look of soothing sympathy. How could you endure it that the very wife of your bosom should manifest the temper of those assassins that murdered your Lord, while in the exercise of a lively faith you hailed him as “the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely?” Would it not agonize your heart that she should be _indifferent_ only, not to say inimical, towards him in whom you daily “rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory?”
In proportion to the wretchedness of such circumstances must be the felicity of the reverse, of which this narrative furnishes a pleasing exemplification. Zacharias and Elizabeth were _both_ righteous, and this union of spirit diffused a holy and gladdening radiance over all the scenes of life. In the family, in the social circle, in the house of God, they were ONE. Together they could bow the knee at the throne of grace, together go up to the temple! The grief or the joy of one was the grief or the joy of both; they could sing the same song, unite in the same prayer, feast on the same spiritual food! This was the perfection of love–this was the triumph of friendship! No contrary current of feeling on either side ruffled the pure stream of domestic and religious pleasure, but it flowed along in a clear, noiseless, and perpetual course. In this case the language of David might be applied with emphatic propriety: “Behold, how good and pleasant a thing it is to dwell together in unity.”
Elizabeth and her partner were “both well stricken in years.” There is something venerable in hoary age, especially when adorned with the graces of the Spirit. The mind reposes with peculiar complacency on those who, having long “adorned the doctrines of God their Saviour in all things,” are waiting quietly and confidently for their admission to heaven. They can see the shadows of the evening deepen upon them without a sigh; and while death is unlocking the doors of their appointed house, can sing, “Thanks be to God, that giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” While the mind of a wicked man, in the near prospect of dissolution, is filled with distraction, and “a fearful looking for of judgment–while his
“——frantic soul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Flies to each avenue, and cries for help– But cries in vain;——“
conscious that he is the enemy of God, the abhorrence of saints; the confederate, and will soon become the companion, of evil spirits; the dying Christian looks beyond the confines of mortality into the eternal world, without one sensation but that “of a desire to depart and to be with Christ.” In quitting the present world, he expects a transition from sorrow to joy–from the region of shadows to that of realities–from the habitations of sin to the abodes of purity. Embracing Jesus by faith, he exclaims with Simeon, “Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation;” or with Paul, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me in that day.”
It is pleasing to see the youthful mind impressed with the concerns of religion, devoting its powers to the Saviour, and despising the solicitations of sinful pleasure; but ah! how many cloudless mornings are succeeded by gloomy days–how many false and fruitless blossoms adorn the smiling spring–how many seeds spring up, but perish because they have “no depth of earth!” Early piety, therefore, however gratifying, cannot be contemplated without anxiety, if not suspicion; the force of temptation has not yet been endured–the world has not half exhausted its quiver of poisoned arrows–Satan has not yet tried all his arts and machinations–the race is not yet run!–but in those who, like Zacharias and Elizabeth, are “well striken in years,” we witness the stability of principle, the triumph of perseverance, and the reign of grace. Dear and venerable companions in the ways of God, ye have borne the burden and heat of the day! Like a shock of corn, ye shall soon be “gathered in your season;” ye shall soon drop the infirmities of humanity, and be clothed in the robes of light! “Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city.”
The brief, but comprehensive notice of these venerable saints, in the commencement of the Gospel according to Luke, exhibits at once the characteristic features of their piety.
1. It was of a quality approved by God himself: for they are represented as “righteous _before God_,” that is, in the divine estimation. It is this only which can determine our genuine character; for, however “outwardly virtuous _before men_,” the internal spirit and character may be marked by moral deformities which the eye of Omniscience cannot but view with detestation. The most eminent Christians, indeed, are aware that perfection in righteousness is not attainable in the present state, and that when “weighed in the balances,” they are in many respects “found wanting:” but while they look for acceptance through the righteousness of Christ, instead of “going about to establish their own,” they possess a rectitude of _principle_, though the _degree_ of holiness be imperfect. They are sincere, habitual in their aim to please God, cherishing a supreme attachment to his name and character, and determined in their resistance of every influence that would seduce them from his service or impel them to commit sin.
2. Elizabeth and her venerable partner regulated their conduct by divine authority, irrespective of the opinions of men. They are said to “have walked in the _commandments and ordinances of the Lord_.” The Jews were accustomed to blend the traditions of the elders with their religious services; but these believers consulted and obeyed the oracles of Heaven. They repaired at once to the spring-head of wisdom, deriving their faith and obtaining direction with regard to their practice from Him who alone possesses the authority of a master.
This was a very decisive evidence of their religion, and is a test which is capable of being applied to every case and to every sphere of life. If the only certain evidence of true piety consisted in becoming martyrs, few could have an opportunity of evincing it, through not being called to this high and holy service; or, if the test were the distribution of ample charities, or self-devotement to the labour of the Christian ministry, the poor, and the ungifted, and ineloquent, would be excluded from the prescribed means of testifying their love to God: but obedience to his commands may be practised in the humblest circumstances, in the lowliest station, and by the most obscure individual. Any where and every where it is possible “to take up our cross,” to “deny ourselves,” to “mortify the flesh,” to “walk in the Spirit.”
3. The obedience of Elizabeth and Zacharias was universal–not partial or restricted; for they “walked in _all_ the commandments and ordinances of the Lord.”
An insincere profession will be distinguished by partiality in its observances. It will practise some duties and reject others, believe some doctrines and hesitate to admit others. Influenced by many subordinate considerations, it will select those requirements which are most easily performed, most calculated to attract public attention, or most conformable to natural prepossessions. It will dispense with some things as difficult, and with others as unnecessary or unimportant. “Then,” exclaimed the Psalmist, “shall I not be ashamed when I have respect unto _all_ thy commandments.”
4. Elizabeth and her aged companion were distinguished also for a piety which was _blameless_. It is possible to merit blame even in our very acts of religious obedience. How seldom do we attain that purity of _motive_, that unostentatious simplicity of _manner_, that _uniformity_ of conduct, which constitute a _blameless_ piety! In this respect we have daily reason, at the footstool of mercy, to deplore our deficiency, our lanquor, our lukewarmness of spirit, our unprofitableness and vileness. “If thou, Lord, wert strict to mark iniquity, O Lord, who could stand?” There is not a prayer we utter but would be rejected, were it not for the prevalence of the Redeemer’s intercession, nor a service we perform, but is so defiled with guilt that it would be an abominable offering, but for the efficacy of that blood which “cleanseth us from all sin.” Nor, indeed, was the piety of Zacharias and Elizabeth in itself “_blameless_,” irrespective of this atonement; nor were they “_righteous_,” but as accepted and justified “through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” To a lively faith they, however, united a holy conversation, and an habitual obedience: their life was a perpetual sacrifice to God, and diffused around a sweet savour of piety.
Let us contemplate the _happiness of such a life_. It is common to represent religion as incompatible with true enjoyment, and to describe those who are under its influence as gloomy fanatics, dragging out a miserable existence–the dupes of prejudice and the slaves of melancholy. If a perpetual sense of the divine presence, a well-founded confidence of pardoned sin, free access to the throne of mercy, abundant communications of spiritual good and lively anticipations of a felicity beyond the grave, commensurate with the capacities of an immortal spirit, and with the everlasting ages of eternity; if these produce wretchedness, then, and in no other case, is religion a source of misery. Be not deceived; such allegations result from ignorance and depravity. Zacharias and Elizabeth, joined together by the dear bonds of mutual affection, and the still dearer ties of grace, present a picture of happiness unrivalled in the gay and thoughtless world. We appeal to them, and to those who resemble them, as “epistles” of God, that teach the efficacy of genuine religion. Read them, ye profane, and blush for your impieties! Read them, ye sons and daughters of strife, and banish discord from your houses! Read them, ye fearful, hesitating, lukewarm professors, and learn to walk in “_all_ the commandments and ordinances of the Lord!” Read them, ye worldly wise, ye ambitious, ye “lovers of pleasure,” and confess ye have mistaken the true means to happiness, and have “forsaken your own mercies!”
It is a supereminent excellence of the religion of Jesus, that “the peace and joy in believing” which it inspires do not depend on external circumstances. As no worldly condition can _create_, so neither can it _destroy_ the Christian’s felicity; it is firm and immoveable amidst the changes and revolutions of human affairs–in the bright or cloudy day. Like the mariner’s compass, which continually points in the same direction amidst changing seasons and varying climes, the most extraordinary vicissitudes of the “present evil world,” cannot “move” the mind of a believer from the “hope of the Gospel.”
Reflect further, on the _effect which such a life is calculated to produce on others_.
A holy life is a powerful argument for the “truth as it is in Jesus;” and that suspicious eagerness with which the wicked watch the conduct of professors, that patient malignity with which they wait for their halting, and that Satanic joy with which they exult over their misconduct, prove their own convictions of the strength of such an argument. Let us then be concerned to falsify their predictions and disappoint their enmity by “walking in _all_ the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless.” Consider the impressive appeal of the apostle: “Only let your conversation be as becometh the gospel of Christ.” Shine, ye professing Christians, for “ye are the lights of the world”–shine with a holy and steady radiance in the church of God, and pray for daily supplies of the oil of grace, that your light may not degenerate into a feeble glimmering or totally expire; otherwise you may become accessary to the fall and ruin of others, and “their blood may be upon _you!_” Such a pious union, such holy friendship as that of Elizabeth and Zacharias, will be _perpetuated through infinite ages_. It is not a transient but an everlasting union; it shall survive the grave and defy the stroke of mortality. They who “sleep in Jesus” will God bring with him. The sepulchre, to such as die in the faith of Christ and in a state of holy friendship with each other, only resembles a vast prison, in which dearest friends are separated only for a time in different cells, and from which they shall be released when the gloomy keeper resigns his keys, when “death is swallowed up in victory.” Those humble and affectionate disciples who have “walked together in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord, here, shall take sweet counsel above, and walk together in the fields of immortality.” In a nobler sense than the original application of the words, it may be said of all Christian friends, “they were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided.”
This perpetuation of Christian society and love, is intimated in the most striking manner by our Redeemer when on the point of departure from his disciples, whom he called his “_friends_.” “I will not henceforth drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Who can describe the joys of that “marriage-feast,” the felicities of that endeared spiritual and eternal intercourse, that union of hearts, that concourse of affections, that flow and mingling of souls! These are some of “the mysteries of godliness”–this is what “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.”
Let these glorious expectations revive our failing courage amidst the conflicts of life. Let us not despair, though we may weep over the companions of our pilgrimage, slain at our side by the irresistible stroke of death. The separation is transitory–the reunion will be eternal. “But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”
Such as are opposite in character to Zacharias and Elizabeth, and who are “walking in _none_ of the commandments and ordinances of the Lord,” should reflect on the misery of their condition, as utterly destitute of all those hopes and privileges which have been described. Who instituted these ordinances?–who gave these commandments?–whose authority is it you dare despise?–or who has released you from your obligations to this authority?–what madness induces you to fly in the face of God–to measure your power against the sword of Omnipotence? O, remember–“the wages of sin is death!”
Anna.
Chapter III.
Introduction of Anna into the sacred Story–inspired Description of her–the aged apt to be unduly attached to Life–Anna probably Religious at an early Period–Religion the most substantial Support amidst the Infirmities of Age–the most effectual Guard against its Vices–and the best Preparation for its End.
Two illustrious women have already been presented to the reader as adorning the era of our Saviour’s incarnation; the one, the mother of his humanity, the witness of his miracles, and the weeping attendant upon his crucifixion; the other, her venerable relative, the wife of Zacharias, and the parent of John, who was the destined precursor of the “Desire of all nations.” We are now to contemplate another female, whose age superadds a charm to her excellences, and whose privilege also it was to witness the commencing brightness of the evangelical day. Like Elizabeth, her “memorial” is short, but it does not “perish with her.” She has a place in the chronicles of the redeemed, a name before which that of heroes and heroines fades away, and which it requires no “storied urn nor animated burst” to perpetuate.
Anna is introduced to our notice on the memorable occasion which has been already mentioned, when the parents of Jesus took him after his circumcision to Jerusalem, to “present him to the Lord.” Then it was that Simeon broke forth in eloquent and prophetic congratulations, expressive at once of his own triumph over death, in consequence of having witnessed the accomplishment of those prophecies which had so long and so often filled him with delightful anticipations, and of the “glory” which he foresaw would irradiate Israel and enlighten the Gentiles. Scarcely had he finished his address, when Anna, a prophetess, remarkable for her extreme age and exemplary piety, entered the temple, and not only united with Simeon and the rest of the interesting group in “giving thanks unto the Lord,” but “spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.”
It was benefiting the majesty of the event which had occurred, that the spirit of prophecy should revive after being dormant for about four hundred years. Since the days of Malachi no such inspiration had been afforded; but the new and glorious period commencing with the incarnation was marked by this as well as other signs and wonders. When Simeon held the infant Saviour in his arms, the Spirit of God touched his tongue with a live coal from the altar; and when the aged “daughter of Phanuel” approached, she caught the glow of kindling rapture, and blended with his her praises and predictions. This eminent woman is represented as “of a great age,” as having “lived with a husband seven years from her virginity,” and as being “a widow of about four-score and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day.” This form of expression does not seem to furnish decisive evidence whether her entire age was eighty-four, or whether she was a widow during that period; if the latter, the seven years in which she had lived with a husband, together with the probable number which constituted her age at the time of her marriage, must be added to the calculation, which would produce considerably more than a hundred years; in either case she must be allowed to occupy a conspicuous place in the records of longevity.
It has been observed of the aged, that although existence, when extended beyond the usual period of “threescore years and ten,” is nothing “but labour and sorrow,” they still adhere to life with the utmost tenacity, and are even less disposed to relinquish it than those whose more vigorous powers and undecayed youth capacitate them for its enjoyment. But however surprised we may be to witness this anxiety to live in those who are bending beneath the pressure of years and the load of decrepitude, and to see that this anxiety rather increases than diminishes, there is something in it by no means unnatural. In addition to the love of life which is implanted in every human bosom for the wisest purposes, the aged person cannot but feel that he is nearer than others to that hour of separation from all the connexions and interests of time than the multitude around him–an hour at which nature instinctively shudders, and which is always regarded as painful, whatever may be the result. Corporeal suffering may be considerable; and that change of being which the mortal stroke produces has always something about it awful, mysterious, and terrific. There are few instances in which it can be approached without some degree of dread, some shrinking of mind, whatever be the state of detachment from the present world, and whatever pleasing anticipations may exist with regard to another: as the patient, however assured of the necessity of the measure and the importance of the result, trembles while preparations are making to amputate his disordered limb. It may be observed also of the young, that while they compassionate their aged friends as the prey of a thousand imbecilities both of body and mind, and lament over a state in which man is reduced to a second childhood, there is scarcely an individual who does not harbour in secret the wish to attain an age equal at least, if not superior, to any of his cotemporaries. The reason is similar to that which influences persons at an advanced period of life; the thought of death, with all its concomitant evils, is unwelcome at any time, and consequently it is grateful to the mind to place it at the greatest conceivable distance; so that, were it now within the appointments of Providence or the bounds of probability, little doubt can be entertained that the great proportion of mankind would readily accept as a blessing a patriarchal or antediluvian age.
Anna is particularly noticed as the daughter of Phanuel, of whom we have no other information; and as belonging to the tribe of Asher, which was situated in Galilee. This, whether recorded for that purpose or not, might serve to refute the charge, that “out of Galilee ariseth no prophet,” since from that quarter proceeded the very first inspirations upon the revival of the prophetic spirit. Asher was a very inferior tribe, and one of the ten carried captive by the Assyrians, having departed from the worship of the true God, and from the house of David, under Jeroboam. But notwithstanding this general defection, there were individuals who returned and reunited themselves with Judah, that they might enjoy the ancient privileges of the people of God. Thus even in the worst of times, and amidst the least favourable circumstances, some portion of true religion has always been preserved in the earth. Though the watchful eye of Providence has occasionally suffered the flame of devotion to languish and almost expire, yet its total extinction has been prevented, and unexpected coincidences have frequently excited it into new and more vigorous action.
We have in the history before us a specimen of a pious old age, remarkable in itself, and calculated to suggest a variety of useful considerations. This holy woman probably lodged in the immediate vicinity, if not in some of the outward apartments of the temple, which gave her an opportunity of indulging in those constant devotions which accorded with her wishes and comported with her age. On every occasion she was present at appointed services, and so entire was her self-devotement to religion, that she was incessantly engaged in fasting and prayers. The world had no claims upon her, being alike unfitted for any of its avocations and indisposed to any of its pleasures: she had bid it a final farewell, and had withdrawn behind the scenes of this vast theatre, which are so artfully painted as to allure and deceive the imaginations of mankind, into the secrecy of devotion and the sanctuary of her God. Peace was the companion of her retirement, and piety shed its serenest ray upon the evening of her mortal existence.
It may be presumed that the religion of Anna was by no means of recent date, but that the seeds of so rich a harvest were sown “in the fields of youth.” Whatever is great or eminent is usually the work of time. _Nature_ does not produce the oak, with its spreading branches and solid trunk, in a day or a twelve month; and, in general, a rapid luxuriancy is connected with corresponding weakness and quick decay. The plans of _Providence_ require the lapse of years or ages to accomplish: events of importance seldom burst suddenly upon the world, and without a previous course of preparatory dispensations, tending to point out the purposes of such occurrences, and to awaken human expectations. Nor can _excellence of character_ be formed without the use of means, opportunities of progressive improvement, and that experience which must be slowly gained.
Far be it from us to limit the operations of divine grace: it _can_, indeed, and in some instances _has_, produced effects of a nature to which no general rules and principles are applicable: it has instantaneously converted a furious persecutor into a faithful, laborious, and eminent preacher of “the faith which once he destroyed;” it has transformed a malefactor into a saint, and in one hour raised the criminal from the depths of infamy and the agonies of crucifixion to the dignity of a believer in Christ and the joys of paradise. But these surely ought not to be regarded as the ordinary methods of its operation, but rather as miraculous interferences. In general, religious ordinances are to be constantly and perseveringly attended, in order to the acquisition of eminence in religion: holy vigilance must concur with devout and fervent prayer, day by day, to check and finally vanquish the power of depravity, to elevate the mind above the world, and prepare the Christian for his future bliss; as the child must commonly be “_trained up_ in the way he should go,” if we hope that “when he is old he will not depart from it.” Impressions deepen and acquire the force of principles by degrees, knowledge is obtained by perpetual accumulation, and faith is increased by constant exercise. It would be as vain to look for the wrinkles of age in the face of youth, or the strength of maturity in the arm of an infant, as to expect the experience which can only result from the witness of changes and the operation of circumstances, with its corresponding stability of character, in him who has but just commenced a life of piety. As “the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruits of the earth, and hath long patience for it until he receive the early and the latter rain,” so we must in general look for a slow and gradual formation of the character to eminence and spiritual luxuriancy. The account given of Anna would therefore lead us to infer that she had been many years, and in all probability from her youth, devoted to the service of God.
She had not to regret that her best days were spent in riot and dissipation, in opposition or indifference to religion, by which so many debase their nature, offend their Maker, and ruin their souls: but while she contemplated the future without alarm, and perhaps with joy, she could review the past with satisfaction.
As memory predominates over the other faculties of the mind in declining life, and as so much of our happiness or misery at that period must necessarily result from its exercise, it is of the utmost importance to lay up in store a good provision in the “sacred treasure of the past.” Nothing can be more desirable than to leave the mind filled with pleasing recollections; and this can arise only from a life of holiness and purity. How awful is it to think that the last hours should be disturbed by images of crime unrepented of, the intrusion of which into the dying chamber no force can prevent! How lamentable to see the terrors of death aggravated by the remorse and horrors of retrospection! “Life,” says a profound writer, [25] “in which nothing has been done or suffered to distinguish one day from another, is to him that has passed it as if it had never been, except that he is conscious how ill he has husbanded the great deposit of his Creator. Life, made memorable by crimes, and diversified through its several periods by wickedness, is indeed easily reviewed, but reviewed only with horror and remorse.
“The great consideration which ought to influence us in the use of the present moment, is to arise from the effect which, as well or ill applied, it must have upon the time to come; for, though its actual existence be inconceivably short, yet its effects are unlimited, and there is not the smallest point of time but may extend its consequences, either to our hurt or our advantage, through all eternity, and give us reason to remember it forever with anguish or exultation.” We may take occasion from the account of Anna to remark, that true religion is the most substantial support amidst the INFIRMITIES of age. This is emphatically the period of “evil days,” when diseases prey upon the constitution, and the faculties both of body and mind decay. Then “the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are darkened;” the greatest change takes place in the outward circumstances of gladness and prosperity, the countenance of the man is altered, his complexion faded, and his intellectual faculties, as the understanding and the fancy, weakened. It is at this time “the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men how themselves; the grinders cease, because they are few, and those that look out of the windows are darkened;” the strongest members of the body fail, the limbs bend beneath the weight of decrepitude and the effects of paralytic distempers, the teeth drop away, while the eyes grow dim and languid; “the doors are shut in the streets when the sound of the grinding is low,” the mouth becoming sunken and closed; they “rise up at the voice of the bird,” awakened from imperfect slumber when the cock crows or the birds begin their early songs; and “all the daughters of music,” the tongue that expresses and the ears that are charmed with it, are “brought low;” they are “afraid of that which is high, and fears are in the way,” alarmed at every step they take, lest they should stumble at the slightest obstacle, and especially apprehensive of the difficulties of any ascent. At that age their gray hairs thicken like the white flowers of the “almond tree” when it “flourishes,” and even the very “grasshopper is a burden,” for they cannot bear the slightest inconvenience, not even the weight of an insect, and “desire fails:” then is the “silver cord loosed, the golden bowl broken; the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is broken at the cistern;” all the animal and vital functions at length cease, and every essential organ of life decays; “then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.”
Reduced to the state of feebleness and incapacity, which the sacred penman so beautifully describes, man becomes an object of compassion; and it is affecting to see him struggling amidst the ruins of his former self. The sight becomes increasingly painful from the consideration that this is one day to be our own condition; that we too are destined to grow old, to quit the busy scene and the social circle for the solitude of age, and in our turn to be pitied–perhaps forsaken! But there is one thing capable not only of preserving the old from contempt, but of raising them to grandeur and diffusing lustre over their years of decrepitude. In contemplating Anna we do not think of her infirmities when we observe her piety: the meanness of the _woman_–tottering, crippled, dying–is lost amidst the majesty of the _saint_, incessantly serving God in his temple, and advancing to the grave “in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in his season.” The dawning of a heavenly day seems to arise upon her “hoary head:” which, “being found in the way of righteousness,” is a “crown of glory.”
Anna’s history further suggests, that religion is the most effectual guard against the VICES of advanced age. One of these is a spirit of _querulousness_. It is the common practice of those who believe themselves entitled to veneration on account of their years, to complain of the arrogant disregard of their counsels, which they impute to the rising generation. Cherishing the highest opinion of their own sentiments, to which they attribute a kind of infallibility, as being founded upon experience, they naturally expect implicit submission to their dictates and an exact conformity to their views: they require not only to be heard, but obeyed, and are impatient at the folly of those who rebel against their wisdom. Hence originate the often repeated tales of the degeneracy of the present times, and the growing insolence of the young. It may, indeed, be admitted, that, other things being equal, the aged have a just claim upon the attention of the young, whom they are sometimes qualified to instruct; but surely they are not always entitled to the same reverence, and age does not necessarily confer wisdom. Genuine humility, however, tends to correct the spirit of dictation, while it combines with an affectionate concern for the interests of those who are newly come into life; and genuine humility is the product of religion, which supplies motives to give advice with kindness, and to endure the rejection of it without anger.
Another fault of age, is the indulgence _of useless regrets for the past_. In reviewing life, it is easy to discover instances of our own incaution or negligence, which have possibly influenced our affairs and been connected with many subsequent disappointments. We have not availed ourselves of fortunate conjunctures, or we have rejected profitable offers; one scheme has failed by our precipitancy, another by our procrastination–some persons, perhaps, have been foolishly trusted, and others as foolishly suspected–we have occasionally listened to advice which should not have been taken, or rejected what would have proved advantageous; and the consequence has been some diminution of fortune, some disappointment of our expectations, some failure in the crop of earthly enjoyment which we had anticipated. If it were possible to recall the years which have for ever rolled away, or if the felicity of a rational and immortal being consisted in the possession of temporal abundance, worldly honour, or corporeal gratification, these regrets would have some show of propriety, and might at least secure a patient hearing; hut it is certain, they only betray a weak or a wicked mind; it is perhaps equally certain, they will generally continue to occupy the thoughts of the aged. There is, in fact, but one remedy, “pure and undefiled religion.” It is this alone which can fix in the mind a full persuasion of the _nothingness_ of terrestrial pleasures and possessions. This only can console us after our ineffectual efforts to “gain the whole world,” or amidst the loss of riches which have “taken to themselves wings,” and long since “fled away,” by the assurance, that nothing we ever possessed was adequate to render us happy, without other and better enjoyments–that upon a fair estimate, it is questionable whether the perplexities it occasioned did not counterbalance the advantages it either bestowed or promised–and that could we _now_ call our own whatever we have most valued or desired of worldly good, it would prove incapable of making us substantially happy. _He_ need not wish to renew life, who has the hope of a better existence–nor regret the loss of temporal advantages, if he have immortal good. He who “lays up for himself treasures in heaven,” may defy the storms of time, and adopt the triumphant language of the apostle, amidst the wreck of earthly good, “having nothing, yet possessing all things.”
Similar views and principles alone can correct a third error of age, namely, the aim to _prolong juvenility to an unnatural period_. “To secure to the old that influence which they are willing to claim, and which might so much contribute to the improvement of the arts of life, it is absolutely necessary that they give themselves up to the duties of declining years; and contentedly resign to youth its levity, its pleasures, its frolics, and its fopperies. It is a hopeless endeavour to unite the contrarieties of spring and winter; it is unjust to claim the privileges of age, and retain the playthings of childhood. The young always form magnificent ideas of the wisdom and gravity of men whom they consider as placed at a distance from them in the ranks of existence, and naturally look on those whom they find trifling with long beards, with contempt and indignation, like that which women feel at the effeminacy of men. If dotards will contend with boys in those performances in which boys must always excel them, if they will dress crippled limbs in embroidery, endeavour at gayety with faltering voices, and darken assemblies of pleasure with the ghastliness of disease, they may well expect those who find their diversions obstructed will hoot them away; and that if they descend to competition with youth, they must bear the insolence of successful rivals.” [26]
Religion also must be regarded as the best preparation for that END of life, with which old age is so closely connected. However proper it may be to realize this eventful time, at every period from our earliest to our latest day, it cannot but be regarded as more certainly and evident near at an advanced age. Anna, after the lapse of a century, had greater reason, surely, to apprehend her dissolution, than in the bloom of youth, or at the commencement of her widowhood; and how appaling the prospect!
It would diminish the impression we have of the terror of death, if his dominion were limited to a part of the world, or to any ascertainable extent of years; but, while his authority continues unimpaired and his stroke irresistible, the power he is permitted to exercise over humankind is universal. In visiting the repositories of the dead, it is calculated to awaken our liveliest sensibilities to trace the reign of the “king of terrors” upon the sepulchral stone, or the marble monument. In characters which time has almost erased, we read the records of the past, and by a more than probable analogy penetrate some of the mysteries of the future. Here and there occur the names of those who were venerable for age, remarkable for their exploits, conspicuous by their station, rank, or talent–GREAT by the consent of their cotemporaries–who once figured upon a stage which is now decayed, or where illustrious in an empire which is now passed away. Some have been smitten by death’s withering hand at an earlier, some at a later period of life. Adjoining the grave of age is the tomb of youth. There you see the stone half buried in accumulating heaps of earth, and the inscriptions of love and tenderness obscured by collecting moss; while the hand that wrote them has long since become motionless, and the heart that dictated them ceased to beat.
It is affecting to visit places of public resort, under the full influence of the consideration, that this busy and anxious crowd will soon disappear–their race will be run, and the immortal prize gained–or–lost! These possessors of the soil will, in a little time, be disinherited–these tenants of a day exchanged–the funeral pall will cover the most ambitious and the most active of them all, and the motley multitude be succeeded by others equally busy, equally anxious, equally thoughtless of another state of being–and equally _mortal_!
But these sentiments, however calculated to fill irreligious persons with dread and melancholy, can produce no despondency in those who, like Anna, are accustomed to the truths of religion, and derive the chief pleasure both of their youthful and decrepit age from the services of religion. With regard to _death itself_ they are taught that his power is limited to the body, and that it is restricted even to a short period over this inferior part of our nature; and as to its _consequences_, they cannot incessantly frequent the temple, and be occupied in devotion, without learning the value, as well as the reality, of those considerations which are drawn from eternity. They know that “this corruptible shall put on incorruption, this mortal put on immortality,” and that then “there shall be no more death.” And what do these expressions imply, but, _the entire renovation of our nature?_–Man is mortal, because he is sinful; and, consequently, the removal of sin will prove the extinction of death. It is only by the introduction of moral evil that the earth has been converted into a vast cemetery, and life become a short and rugged passage to the sepulchre; but when it shall no longer prevail, our sanctified nature will inherit the abodes of purity and undecaying existence. It is this consideration which endears celestial felicity. Exemption from death implies deliverance from sin, and the Christian wishes to possess a character which God shall approve, and to be cleansed from those stains of guilt which infect his present being, and render him offensive to his Father in heaven. Were he destined always to be unholy, he would scarcely contemplate immortality as a blessing; but because he has reason to anticipate “a waking” from the sleep of the grave, in the divine “likeness,” he realizes a period in the bright annals of his future being, when he shall no longer have occasion to exclaim, “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” The pains of _separation_, too, which afflict this mortal state, cannot exist in that “better country.” Society will unquestionably prove one considerable source of the happiness of heaven, where immortal beings will be so circumstanced and capacitated, as both to receive and impart enjoyment. The very nature of man is constituted social; and though our circumstances in this life often render temporary separations unavoidable, in a perfect state of society they must be needless; consequently they will not be suffered to impair the joys of paradise.
The most afflictive of all separations, is that which is occasioned by death. In all other cases, a lingering hope may exist of a reunion at some period however distant; at least _the possibility of_ it is cheering: but, even if there be no reasonable expectation of this, the very consciousness that our friend is still alive, still on earth, still capable of receiving and performing acts of kindness, still able to communicate with us by letter or by message, to participate our pleasures, to sympathize with our sorrows, and to pray for our welfare, is consoling in every vicissitude;–but when death sets his awful seal upon our companion, relative or friend, we cherish a deeper feeling of grief, and cannot look to any _earthly_ means of consolation–but we _can_ look to a _heavenly_ one! Whatever resource fails, the religion of the Bible supplies inexhaustible springs of comfort. God is on high–Jesus “ever lives”–Christians know they shall soon pass into a world where the happy circle will never be broken, the communion of kindred spirits never cease, the day of blessedness never decline, the sabbath of immortality never terminate.
It is in the temple also, that those who like Anna receive just impressions from its services, and live in a state of holy intercourse with God, learn to appreciate the capacities of a spiritual mind for progression in wisdom and felicity, and by consequence to cherish the noblest anticipations of their own future possible elevation of character. How many unfinished schemes are frustrated by death! Our plans of futurity, our purposes of gain, or our resolves of usefulness, may be ended in one short hour. Here the labours of the industrious, the studies of the learned, the investigations of the philosopher, and the career of the pious, close. The grave silences the voice of the preacher, and paralyzes the hand of the charitable. Here the arguments of a Paul end–here the silver tongue of an Apollos is speechless–here the hands of a Dorcas cease to manufacture for the poor, whose unavailing tears cannot recall departed piety.
But who will define the limits of possible attainment in knowledge and excellence in a state of deathless existence? Society is always improving, even in the present world, amidst all its imperfections. The researches of past ages have transmitted a vast stock of wisdom to their successors, both in reference to natural science and religious truth. Who can tell what discoveries a Newton might have made, had he possessed a terrestrial immortality? or who can conceive what heights and depths of divine knowledge might have been disclosed, had the apostles of Christ been permitted to live to the present period, and had it been the will of God that they should have received a constant succession of revelations?
In both these cases, not only has death terminated this series of bright discovery, but this earth is not the destined place, nor time the destined period, for those manifestations of eternal wisdom, which we have reason to believe will take place in another world. Those impediments to knowledge, and those reasons for concealment, which at present exist, will be removed, and truth open all her treasures to immortalized and sanctified spirits. The consequence of the progressive disclosure of spiritual things, of the works and ways of God, will be progressive improvement: and, as in consequence of the clearer development of truth in the Gospel, “he who is least in the kingdom of heaven, is greater than John the Baptist;” so when all the shadows and clouds that bedim our present existence shall have disappeared, and a ray of heaven pours its glorious illumination upon the mysteries of time, the least in the paradise of God will be greater than the most distinguished in his church on earth. And as we never shall cease to improve in knowledge–for there will be no termination to our spiritual researches–there will probably arrive a period in eternity, when he who at the resurrection will be least in the heavenly world in capacity and glory, will become greater in consequence of ever new discoveries, than at that moment will be the greatest of the redeemed universe. And the meanest Christian on earth may indulge the hope that, at a future age, even he may become superior in knowledge, in love, in capacity, and in glory, to what the brightest seraph or the tallest archangel, is at present in the heaven of heavens; for who can tell what God may do for beatified souls? who dare limit the operations of his mercy, or who can imagine to what an elevation of wisdom and felicity an emparadised believer may attain?
Progression is the law of a thinking being. And why should it not operate upon holy intelligences in the future state, as well as in the present? and why not when “there shall be no more death,” to an incalculably greater extent? Why should not every new idea acquired in that world become a seed of truth in the mind, that shall spring up and bear fruit, multiply and expand, without restriction and without end?–
There is not in religion a nobler or a more animating sentiment, than this perpetual advancement of the soul towards perfection. Life has its maturity and decline, nature its boundaries of beauty, human affairs their zenith of glory; but, in “the new heavens and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness,” every thing will be eternally upon the advance–there will be no end to the path of knowledge–present acquisitions will be the basis of subsequent acquirements–we shall be continually outshining ourselves, by making nearer approaches to infinite goodness–and the whole moral creation will be forever beautifying in the eyes of God.
The Woman of Samaria.
Chapter IV.
Account of Christ’s Journey through Samaria–he arrives at Jacob’s Well–enters into conversation with a Woman of the Country–her Misapprehensions–the Discovery of his Character to her as a Prophet–her Convictions–her Admission of his Claim as the true Messiah, which she reports in the City–the great and good Effect–Reflections.
Every incident in the life of Christ is illustrative of the evangelical testimony, “he went about doing good.” His efforts were not partial, nor confined to particular occasions; but, availing himself of all the opportunities which occurred, either in public or in private, to promote the welfare of mankind, time never measured out an idle hour–the sun never sat upon a useless day!
It may be truly said, with regard to those who imbibe the spirit of their Master, “no man liveth to himself.” Nothing can be more remote from genuine Christianity, than that selfishness which is characteristic of a worldly disposition, and which with an uniform and undeviating assiduity, seeks its own interests and purposes: while nothing can so fully comport with its nature, and evince its prevalence, as that charity which is limited only by the period of human life, the extent of means, and the boundaries of creation.
“When the Lord knew that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John … he left Judea and departed again into Galilee.”
The jealousy of his enemies induced them to become narrow observers of all the proceedings of Christ; and, knowing their spirit, he removed to some distance: not, however, through fear–nor (as some expositors have stated) lest they should put him to death; for his hour was not yet come–and it would have been impossible to counteract the purposes of Heaven. He could easily have eluded their utmost vigilance and malignity, as on a certain occasion, when “passing through the midst of them, he went his way.” But our Lord did not think proper to disclose himself at once, and in a very public manner. It was not his intention to astonish, but gradually to excite the attention of the Jewish nation, to furnish evidences of his mission to humble and contrite minds, and to lay the foundation of a future work, rather than to operate on a very extended scale himself. In this manner was accomplished the prophecy of Isaiah, “He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street. A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth.”
His route lay through Samaria; any other way to Galilee would have been very circuitous: and this is mentioned, because of the directions to his disciples, “Go not into the way of the Gentiles, and into any city of the Samaritans enter ye not; but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” The hour for that enlarged operation of mercy amongst the Gentiles, which had been so long predicted, was not yet arrived, though it was now approaching with desirable rapidity. The dispensations of God are inscrutable to mortals, to whom it seems profoundly mysterious, that the purposes of love to man should first be delayed for so many ages, and then manifested by the work of Christ to so limited an extent. Here we must “walk by faith, not by sight;” while, upon every leaf in the great volume of providence, it is legibly written, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways, higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
It has been piously remarked, that the evangelist refers, by the expression, “he must _needs go_ through Samaria,” to our Saviour’s purposes of mercy to that vicinity; and undoubtedly it is true, that he was powerfully impelled and irresistibly guided, wherever he went. Nothing could obstruct his designs of mercy, or his labours of love. No force could prevent his benevolent progress: as well might human or diabolical agency attempt to arrest the sun in his course, or stop the march of time.–“My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.” “I _must_ work the works of him that sent me, while it is day; the night cometh, when no man can work.”
In his journey, Jesus came to a city of Samaria called _Sychar_, which appears to have been the same with the _Sichem_ or _Shechem_ of the Old Testament; [27] where was a well, to which tradition had assigned the name of Jacob, as having been originally dug by that patriarch. It was now about the sixth hour, or noon, and the climate being exceedingly sultry, Jesus, under the pressure of fatigue, sat down by the well.
Let us for a moment turn aside, like Moses, to “see this great sight.” Jesus “sat thus on the well,” as the weary traveller seeks a renewal of his strength by temporary repose. What majesty and mystery surround the spot, when we recall the ancient oracles to mind, which represent him as “the Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace;” and compare descriptions of this nature with the evangelical record of his own words, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests: but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.”
What a scene for ministering spirits, who had been accustomed to behold and adore him, but who now witnessed his abasement! What a contrast between “the Lamb in the midst of the throne,” and Jesus sitting on a well, and afterward suspended on a cross–between the “King of glory:” and the weary traveller–the “Lord of lords,” and the “man of sorrows!”
Let us derive instruction, as well as consolation, from this scene. “We have not a high-priest, who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities: but was in all points tempted, like as we are, yet without sin.” If the Saviour had appeared upon earth in external splendour, and in a manner which to human apprehension would have comported better with the majesty of his nature and the pre-eminence of his celestial glory, our insignificance would have created a sense of unapproachable distance: we should have been more _astonished_ than _attracted_–more _confounded_ than, _conciliated_. But he disrobed himself of ineffable brightness to bring us nigh, and to produce a just and holy familiarity, saying to his disciples, “I have called _you friends_.”
Let us be reconciled to the infirmities, pains, and poverty we may suffer; for it is “sufficient for the servant to be as his master.” More elevated stations in life would be attended with more danger to our spiritual character, and expose us to more afflictions; as mountains in proportion to their height attract clouds and tempests. The present is a state of trial for the righteous; but however distressing or obscure our way, Jesus has trod it before us–sanctifying the path of sorrow by his presence, and plucking up many of its thorns. Place his example before your eyes–observe his humble life–his assumed poverty–his unaffected condescension! To the poor he preached–with the poor he lived–_their_ dress he wore–and their lowly sphere he chose and honoured!
How many of the most important events of our lives may be traced to trifling circumstances! A single step may have a remote, but very obvious connexion with the greatest results. A single turn in the journey of life may influence the happiness, and direct the course of years! “There cometh a woman of Samaria, to draw water.” Nothing could be more apparently incidental; and yet he who thinks rightly will perceive it to be a link in the great chain of Providence, which was absolutely essential to the completion of the whole. It was in the purpose of God, that many of the Samaritans of that city should believe–that this conviction should be wrought by that woman, who herself should be forcibly impressed by the proofs with which she was furnished in the relation of her most private domestic concerns. Had she come earlier or later, Jesus had not been there!
We must trace the links of this chain further. The malignity of the Pharisees induced Jesus to leave Judea; and both convenience, and perhaps a moral necessity, impelled him here. His arrival at that hour–his stay–the opportunity occasioned by the absence of his disciples–were all appointed by superintending wisdom. Who knows what a day or an hour may bring forth! Little did this Samaritan woman expect such a meeting, such a traveller, or such a conversation; so wisely and so wonderfully are the plans of Providence arranged!
How often has the promise been accomplished, “I was found of them that sought me not!” To some unforeseen occurrence–some accidental meeting–some trifling coincidence, Christians may often trace their first conversion, and their best impressions. A stranger–a word, a casualty, has proved the means of spiritual illumination; and while the recollection of these circumstances often solace them in the vale of tears, we doubt not but they will furnish a subject of pleasing contemplation and adorning gratitude, when they shall have attained the perfection of their being on the heights of immortality.
“Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink:” a very natural request from a weary stranger, and one with which, from the common hospitality of the times, he might expect a ready compliance. The evil effect of luxury is, that it has multiplied our artificial necessities, and diminished our benevolent feelings; in a simpler state of society, the wants of mankind are fewer and more easily supplied.
The woman paused and inquired, “How is it that thou, being a Jew, asketh drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.” Alas! where rancorous animosity exists, how frequently the laws of hospitality, and the principles even of humanity, are sacrificed! The Sanhedrim interdicted any friendly intercourse with the Samaritans, and the Jews cursed them by the secret name of God; and as this mutual animosity existed, the woman received our Saviour’s request with a reproachful sneer.
The enmity subsisting between the Jews and Samaritans was very ancient in its origin, and exceedingly inveterate in its character. It had also been aggravated by different incidents. When the ten tribes revolted in the time of Jeroboam, the calves were set up in Dan and Bethel, with a view to seduce the people from worshipping at Jerusalem, which was of course highly offensive to Judah and Benjamin; and when Shalmaneser, the king of Assyria, carried away the ten tribes into captivity, he colonized the cities of Samaria with the Babylonians and others, who carried their false religion with them; in consequence of which they became odious to the Jews. At first, the providence of God punished these idolatrous settlers, by permitting lions to infest the country, whose ravages induced Shalmaneser to send one of the priests “to teach them the manner of the God of the land;” when they _united_ the worship of the Jehovah with that of their own idols. These people very much discouraged the Jews in the erection of the second temple, after their return from captivity.
After this, when Alexander had conquered Syria and Palestine, Sanballat, who governed the province of Samaria for Darius, submitted to the conqueror; and having married his daughter to Manasseh, the brother of Jaddua the high-priest, he obtained permission from Alexander to build a temple on mount Gerizzim, in imitation of that which was built at Jerusalem. [28] Manasseh was constituted the high-priest, a multitude of Jews mixed with the Samaritans, and a distinct service, after the Jewish mode of worship, was conducted. This occasioned great contentions, and suspended all intercourse between the rival nations. The Samaritans are generally said to have admitted little more of the Old Testament than the Pentateuch; but Justin Martyr, who was a native of Sichem, affirms that they received all the prophetic writings. [29]
Drop a pitying tear over human weakness, folly, and crime. What divisions separate the human race, and exasperate men against each other! But of all others, they are the most inveterate, which are produced on account of religion. The Samaritan appoints Gerizzim as the place of worship, in opposition to Jerusalem–the fires of persecution are instantly kindled, and the victims of intolerance suffer martyrdom!
To the reproachful insinuation of the woman, Christ returned no answer, for it kindled no resentment. When he was reviled, he reviled not again: but with his characteristic condescension and eagerness to instruct the ignorant, he said, “If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.” This language was expressive of his readiness and ability to supply the necessities of the destitute, to console the afflicted, and to save the lost. By the “gift of God,” he intended divine bounty in general; by “living water,” the blessings of salvation, especially the gifts and graces of “his holy Spirit.” [30]
The conciliating and affectionate manner of Christ’s appeal to the woman, appears to have softened her turbulent spirit, and won her respect. She uses an epithet of respect previously omitted, “_Sir_,”–perceiving that, though apparently a _Jew_, he possessed none of that rancorous enmity which characterizes others, and cherished national antipathies. “A soft answer turneth away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger.” Offences are likely to arise in the present world; but let us rather aim to disarm malignity by conciliation, than strengthen and envenom it by resistance. Soft words may in time operate on hardened hearts, as water continually dropping on the rock wears it away. Such a mode of proceeding costs us little, but tends much to dignify and exalt us. “Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among you? let him show out of a good conversation his works with meekness of wisdom. But if ye have bitter envying and strife in your hearts, glory not, and lie not against the truth. This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish. For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.”
Our Saviour’s discourse was further distinguished by “exceeding great and precious promises;” and the woman seems to have partaken of similar surprise with those who are said to have “wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth.” As a “fountain of living waters,” he was always pouring forth refreshing streams; as the depository of wisdom and knowledge, he incessantly communicated his treasures of sacred instruction; and as the “Sun of righteousness,” he constantly imparted his heavenly light and heating beams. Who could approach him without feeling the benign influence, and being benefitted by the rich supply?
As the term which Christ had employed in a spiritual sense, simply denoted excellent spring water in common language, the woman at present conceived no other idea of his meaning; and seeing he was a stranger, with no bucket, she expressed her astonishment at his promise. With some mysterious impression, probably, of his extraordinary character, blended with incredulity, she proceeded to inquire, “Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?”
This may furnish an exemplification of the fact, that the “natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” The terras of Christianity are mysterious, because its doctrines are misunderstood, and cannot be discerned by him, the “eyes of whose understanding” are beclouded, and whose heart is sensual. How deplorable the effects of sin, which has drawn a veil over the moral perceptions of man; in consequence of which, he cannot see the glories of truth, the charms of Jesus, the value of his soul, and the importance of its redemption! Nothing but the glare of earthly grandeur can affect him, while eternity with all its vast concerns disappears.
Though the woman at first manifested considerable animosity, and afterward betrayed great ignorance, Jesus was neither provoked by her prejudices, nor irritated by her misconceptions. We must not unnecessarily _wound_ the unenlightened, nor even the perverse, by reproaches; but aim to _win_ them by kindness and forbearance. O for more resemblance to the “Lamb of God,” and more of the temper which the apostle inculcates! “And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness instructing those that oppose themselves; if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth; and that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will.”
It would exceedingly conduce to the promotion of this spirit, were we frequently to recollect our own former ignorance and slowness to apprehend the “truth as it is in Jesus;” and the patience we have ourselves experienced, especially from “our Master in heaven.” We should also consider, that the best and most permanent impressions are often the most gradual; and he who advances to perfection, goes on from strength to strength. Let us not be unduly discouraged, because of our _present_ ignorance and darkness of mind: but pursuing our inquiries with a humble and teachable disposition, we may hope by copious supplies from the Source of wisdom, to increase our knowledge, and enlarge our capacities.
It appears rather surprising, that instead of questioning the pretentions of Christ, this woman did not at once solicit a fulfilment of his promise, and “draw water from the wells of salvation;” but her method of proceeding is illustrative of a very common case. Religious inquirers are full of doubts and prejudices; for though Jesus invites them to participate the blessings he so liberally dispenses, they imagine, _falsely_ imagine, that some previous qualification is requisite to justify their approach. “Can such a sinner be saved? Am I _indeed_ invited–after all my sins and broken vows? I know not whether I shall be accepted, for what claim have I upon his mercy?”
Yet the Saviour still invites–still promises–still encourages–still instructs–and will not let the weakest inquirer go, but guides his feet into the way of peace.
“Whosoever,” said he to the woman, “whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst: but the water that I shall give him, shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” The allusion is unquestionably to that principle in the heart which is of divine implantation, and which however various its names, and diversified its operations, is uniform in its nature and origin. Sometimes it is represented by the cause, and sometimes the effect. It is the “_Spirit_ given to them that ask him,” with regard to agency; it is _grace_, in point of character; and it is holiness or practical religion, in reference to its outward influence. Jesus Christ beautifully describes this principle in his metaphorical addresses to the woman of Samaria, by an allusion to the thirst which the water of life assuages, the inexhaustible consolation it imparts, as a “_well_ of water;” and the perpetual and perfect blessedness with which it is connected, as “springing up into everlasting life.”
_Thirst_ is one of the most powerful propensities of human nature, and is therefore adapted to represent the intensity of that desire with which mankind seek the wealth, the honours, and the pleasures of the world: and though “he that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase;” the appetite is still insatiable, and the pursuit continued. When under the influence of violent thirst, it is not unusual for persons to avail themselves of the first supply, however unwholesome, and eagerly to drink even of a filthy stream; with similar impatience and satisfaction, the “carnal mind” indulges in its sensualities, seizing forbidden, and contented with polluting joys. But the grace of God in the heart is distinguished for its purifying influence: it cleanses the spirit from guilt–sanctifies it by the “washing of regeneration,” and imparts a new desire, a heavenly thirst, a holy ardour for spiritual communications; so that “as the hart pants after the water-brooks, so panteth the soul after God.”
This woman had a considerable distance to go in order to procure the water with which it was needful to supply the necessities of her household; and when arrived at the spot, it was a laborious service to draw from the well, and return laden into the city. Our Saviour intimates, on the contrary, the ease with which his divine blessings were attainable, as well as their unfailing abundance. There is imparted to every applicant a fund of peace, in consequence of which “a good man is satisfied from himself.” Religion furnishes consolations of a nature precisely _adapted_ to our necessities as fallen and miserable creatures; and it affords them in circumstances, when it is obvious that no other resource remains. The supplies of this world resemble the casual streamlets of winter, cold, and soon exhausted, or lost in evaporation beneath the returning beam of spring: but amidst the vicissitudes of life, and in the hour of dissolution, religion has consolations which never fail. The river of a Christian’s consolation runs throughout the wilderness of time, nor stays in its course till it expands into the boundless and fathomless ocean of eternal blessedness.
At length, the woman in question is induced to make the request which we wonder she did not at first present; though still she misapprehends the meaning of her divine Teacher, however plain his sentiment may now appear to us; in consequence of which, he condescended to adopt another mode of conveying instruction to her mind. He had excited her attention, he now proceeds to address her conscience.
We must not overlook the circumstance that Christ was “wearied with his journey;” but he was not wearied with his _work_–well doing. If he had now remained silent, it would not have been wonderful; or if, intending to disclose his character to this woman, and by her means to the Samaritans, he had smitten her conscience, removed her prejudices, enlightened her mind, and won her affections, as we know he could have done, _in a moment_–as when he said to Matthew, “Follow me,” and immediately “he left all”–or as when he spake from the clouds with irresistible effect to Saul;–we should not have been astonished that he spared his words, while we must have admired the mighty operation of his grace. But lo! he entered into a long conversation, though in a weary hour, and took the utmost pains to teach her. We have here an example for our imitation. Ought not _we_ to be _patient_ and _laborious_? Ought not _we_ to recollect the value of the soul, and strive “in season and out of season” to win it, knowing “he that converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins?” “The servant of the Lord must not _strive_,” nor despond; lest consulting his own advantage, he prejudice the divine service; but he must forget his infirmities, and pursue his work.
To the request, “Sir, give me this water,” Jesus does not appear to have returned any direct answer, but said, “Go, call thy husband, and come hither.” The reply _was_, in one view, direct, and he began _instantly to_ communicate the “living water;” for the discourse upon which he entered, though at a superficial glance it may appear foreign to the immediate purpose of her request, and might seem to point her to a different subject, was really intended to produce deep and salutary convictions of sin, and such as were requisite in order to her reception of the _living water_ of spiritual consolation. Nothing in reality could display both the _wisdom_ and _goodness_ of the great Teacher in a more striking manner, than this proceeding. In effect, he takes her by the hand, conducts her through the narrow path of conviction and penetential acknowledgment, to that fountain which has supplied millions, and is still inexhaustible; and by whatever mysterious methods he brings his people to himself and to their final rest, it will ultimately be found the _right_ way to the city of habitation. As the woman did not comprehend his metaphorical language, he determined to disclose his prophetic character. “Jesus saith unto her, Go, call thy husband, and come hither. The woman answered and said, I have no husband. Jesus said unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband: for thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly.” By divine inspiration, an ordinary prophet might be supposed to have been made acquainted with the woman’s character and domestic circumstances; but we must contemplate the Saviour on this occasion as supporting his claim to a higher distinction, such as none of them could possess. It is a solemn consideration that we are perpetually inspected by those “eyes which are upon the ways of man,” and by _him_ who seeth all his goings, his most retired moments, most secret sins, most private affairs, and most latent thoughts. Even though we should not live in that excess of sensuality which existed in this case, how important is the apostolic entreaty, to “abstain from fleshly lusts;” and how just the assurance, “they war against the soul!”
At length the woman’s eyes were opened; she had a glimpse of the glory of her divine Instructer through the influence of that grace which is effectual in its operations, and imparts those perceptions which cannot be otherwise possessed. Happy for us if we have been led to discern the exalted character and excellencies of the Son of God! “Sir,” said she, “I perceive that thou art a prophet;” and availing herself of the present favourable opportunity, she proposes a question much and violently agitated between the Jews and Samaritans. When the passions are inflamed by controversial discussion, how apt are we to be mislead by the opinions of men rather than guided by the oppointments of God; and how frequently convenience, instead of conscience, dictates the conduct of religious professors! The Samaritan woman pleads the authority of the fathers for worshipping at mount Gerizzim rather than repairing to Jerusalem. This has frequently proved a source of error; and the history of mankind will furnish ample evidence, that in departing from Scripture, the only “sure word of prophecy,” we shall inevitably wander into an endless labyrinth of mistake, and be lost amidst the intricacies of delusion.
Our Lord intimates the improper proceedings of the Samaritans in consequence of being thus misled by prejudice and by the example of others, and shows that Jerusalem was certainly the ancient place of appointed worship, and the Jews the depositaries of celestial wisdom. From that illustrious people issued the word of the Lord which contained the doctrine of salvation, which descended like the dew from heaven, and was calculated to diffuse spiritual fertility through the earth, and impart universal joy. “Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship, for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in Spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” In this passage Jesus points out the superior nature of the worship which was now required, and which he was about to introduce to the world. In the former controversy the Jews were certainly right; but the designs of mercy being now accomplished in the mission of the Son of God, and the “fulness of time being come,” it was determined to spread the blessings of the “everlasting Gospel” to the widest possible extent, and to render, in honour of the mediation of Christ, the whole earth an universal temple, in which the sacrifice of humble and contrite hearts should be always acceptable.
Two great effects were produced by the introduction of the Christian dispensation. The one respected the _mode of worship_. It was now no longer to be _ceremonial_, but _spiritual_; it was no longer to be conducted in _types_ and _shadows_, but in _truth_. In compassion to human infirmity, numerous ceremonies were originally appointed, to impress awe, and to fill the mind of man with a sense of the majesty of God. The conceptions of a fallen creature being too grovelling at first to comprehend the invisible realities of religion, a system of service was admitted which tended to produce general impressions by an appeal to the external senses, and thus slowly to insinuate sublimer facts, and prepare for more noble manifestations; but when “the Lord came to his temple,” and made “the place of his feet glorious,” darkness vanished, truth shone with effulgent brightness, and simplicity rose to the dominion which ceremony and complexity had assumed: at his presence the new creation smiled, and the Lord of the universe again descended to pronounce upon another series of wonderful works, that “all was very good.”
Another effect resulting from the introduction of the Christian age concerned the _variety and number of worshippers_. The limitations which had hitherto prevailed in communicating truth to the world were to be superseded; for, though the commissioned apostles were to deliver their message “to the Jew _first_,” they were expressly directed to convey it “_also_ to the Gentiles.” How calculated is this precedure to allay animosities and unite hearts! and what a motive is here presented to us to dismiss every petulant and revengeful disposition from the Christian sanctuary, remembering that whether Jew or Gentile, rich or poor, bond or free, every one is accepted of God _only as he is a_ SPIRITUAL WORSHIPPER!
As “God is a spirit,” witnessing our movements and acquainted with our thoughts at all times and in every place, we should often consecrate our moments to his service. In the hour of seclusion and retirement, as well as on public occasions and in religious assemblies, it becomes us to direct our meditations to him by whom we are encircled. Let us contemplate GOD, and feel his awful presence. He is on heaven and on earth; his eyes behold us amidst the shades of midnight as well as in the brightest noon of day; he pervades all space, is in all time, above all creatures, before all being, and through all eternity. “Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?”
At the period of this conversation at Jacob’s well, a very general expectation of the speedy appearance of the Messiah was prevalent, and the woman was aware of the reference in the words, “The hour cometh, and _now is_, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father;” although at present “her eyes were holden,” that she did not know him through the concealment of his mean attire and unstately solitariness. This, however, was wisely planned; and while it tended to cast contempt on worldly glory, it enabled him to become a fellow-sufferer with his people, and to cherish a holy familiarity with his disciples. Hence we find him not in palaces, but in cottages–on the highways of common resort–healing the sick at the pool of Bethesda, conversing with a poor woman at Jacob’s well, and in other similar situations: and never shall we be worthy to bear his name till we imitate his conduct. “The woman saith unto him, I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things. Jesus saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am he.” This was the point to which all his discourse was directed, this the revelation he intended from the first to disclose; but how wisely was it delayed! Such an assertion at the commencement of the conversation would have kindled animosity or excited ridicule; but that mind which was originally so prejudiced and so resentful, is brought to receive the most glorious and spiritual discovery. If we wonder at her ignorance, and lament her prejudices previously to this declaration, how much more criminal would she have _now_ been had she persisted in unbelief! Yet, alas, how often is Christ proclaimed, all his glories revealed, and all his truth exhibited, by the ministry of the Gospel, and nevertheless rejected!
Upon Christ’s explanation of his true character, the Samaritan woman immediately left her water-pot, and went into the city, to announce her discoveries to the neighbourhood, and invite her fellow citizens to the Messiah. Glowing with zeal for others, she said, “Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?” And the historian records the success of her efforts; for “they went out of the city, and came unto him;” and “many of the Samaritans of that city believed on him.” This induced them to solicit his continuance for some time amongst them, “and he abode there two days. And many more believed because of his own word; and said unto the woman, Now we believe, not because of thy saying: for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world.”
Gratitude becomes us in reflecting upon that diversity of means which divine wisdom uses to promote the circulation of his truth, and “win souls to Christ.” The greatest beings are at his control, and are sometimes commissioned to visit the “heirs of salvation”–“Bless the Lord, ye his _angels_, that excel in strength, _that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word_;” while on other occasions he employs the most unlikely agents, or the feeblest instrumentality, to “do his pleasure.” He can from the very stones “raise up children unto Abraham,” convert an infuriated persecutor into an “apostle of the Gentiles,” or change a Samaritan into a Christian, an infidel Gentile into a child of Abraham by faith, and a woman coming casually to draw water for her household, into an instrument of dispensing the living streams of salvation to a perishing vicinity.
The early part of the narrative before us, is sufficient to show, that however slow persons whom we have an opportunity of instructing in religious truth may seem in understanding, or however reluctant to obey it, we ought never either to despair of success, or be weary of repeating our instruction. “I charge thee,” says Paul in addressing Timothy, “before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom; preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine.” Who can tell the favoured period? Who can calculate the extent of the benefit conferred when one sinner is “converted from the error of his ways?” And who would not rejoice at the thought of having his final hour cheered by the recollection of having been the means of letting in the light of an eternal day even upon an individual of the human race, who was once sitting in the darkness of spiritual delusion, and pining in the dungeon of guilt, and misery, and helplessness?
Many things in religion, which we at present misunderstand, may probably become intelligible in the course of future experience, and a great variety of interesting truths now unknown will certainly be revealed in another world. The woman of Samaria could not for a considerable time comprehend the metaphorical allusions of Christ; but when she had “found the Messiah,” she was no longer at a loss to ascertain the signification of the stranger’s assurance, that he could have given her, had she requested it, “living water.” The disclosure of one fact, illustrated another, and in spiritual knowledge and attainment she went on doubtless with a rapidity proportioned to her extraordinary advantages.
With what deep interest, at every subsequent period of her life, would this woman recollect the conversation at Jacob’s well! Never, surely, would she repair again to that spot, without presenting to her imagination the image of Jesus sitting there, like a weary traveller, asking for water to refresh his pilgrimage, incidentally adverting to topics of supreme importance, addressing her conscience, and gradually unveiling his character to her view–first as a prophet, then as the Messiah of the Jews, and the glory of the Gentiles! Never could she forget that wonderful morning–a morning which shone with such glory in the annals of her