To the Jews, as to other ancient nations, geography was itself a symbol. From the historic day when the prophet Elisha called upon Naaman the Syrian to bathe his leprosy seven times in the river Jordan, and so be healed of his plague, that famous stream, descending, as its name implies, to a sea of death, seemed to be washing away the impurities of a people. The ordinance of baptism, which John there instituted, thus expressed a familiar idea. To the multitudes, as to Naaman's servants, it was simple enough merely to wash and be clean. Thousands of penitents were so immersed, confessing their sins; and so 'widespread was the Revival that John's disciples also baptized, while, a few months later, the followers of Jesus--acting, it would appear, on their own responsibility--administered the rite even more frequently.
Baptismal regeneration became a vogue. The cure for all evil was to be no longer those oft-repeated Temple sacrifices, but an enthusiasm for cold water, for fresh air, for locusts and wild honey--what we call the simple life! And if hygiene could have saved mankind, if vegetarianism, or total abstinence, or fish on a Friday, could have redeemed the heart, the problem of sin would have been easily solved. But, at an early moment in the mission, the two groups of reformers differed over what is really meant by purification; and Jesus, wasting no time over argument, quietly left the Jordan, and made His way to Galilee, baptizing no one, whether in river or in lake, and finding His work, not in the empty wilderness, but at the well of Samaria, where, to a poor woman, whose character had been wrecked, He offered, not the external ceremony which cleanses the body, but the living waters which cleanse and refresh the soul within. It was not until He had settled with sin that He ordained baptism for His Church, to be a symbol, wide as the world, of an otherwise accomplished fact.
Within and Without
What healed Naaman was not the river Jordan as such, but a faith in God, seven times tested. By the ghauts of Benares we may see to-day how useless it is for men and women to put their trust in a sacred stream, while a redemption which depends on habits inevitably develops, not happiness of mind, but caste. Jesus did not undervalue the externals of life. He washed the feet of His disciples, and He rebuked Simon the Pharisee because he forgot to bring water for that ablution. Slovenliness was no part of our Lord's piety. But, on the other hand, He would have us " hear and understand." When He washed the disciples' feet, He was thinking, not only of the dust of the roadside, but of the dignity of menial service. In His own incomparable manner He was thereby rebuking those twelve men, not one of whom had offered to do that humble work for the others and for Him. When He spoke to Simon, He was teaching, not cleanliness merely, valuable though that is, but courtesy. And, similarly, He denied that food, even if eaten with unwashen hands, as may sometimes happen, can defile a man. It is what comes from us, and especially from our mouths, that defiles us; and when Peter asked Him to expound this most candid of all His parables, He answered plainly that " out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, thefts, false witness, blasphemies." We deal with crime by imprisoning the criminal, adding bondage of body to bondage of soul. Our Lord set the prisoner free, delivering him from the law, and substituting His new commandment of love, which makes a man forsake evil because he desires to do good. In etiquette, as in every social accomplishment, Jesus was perfect; He was always entirely at His ease in any company, but He knew that etiquette is a concealment. His constant accusation against the scribes was that they were hypocrites, or mask-wearers, and His chief concern was what lay behind.
Great preachers usually feel flattered by a large and fashionable congregation. John, on the other hand, was indignant. It was the quality of a Church, its sincerity and true repentance, that alone mattered to him. The Pharisees and the Sadducees were at variance over that vital matter the Resurrection, but it was not merely their theology that disturbed either the Baptist or our Lord. What Christ noticed was the broad phylactery, or obtrusion of the Scriptures, by those who did not obey them, the enlarged borders to the garments--what we should call frock-coats--bespeaking a holiness that costs nothing except a tailor's bill; the keen desire for the uppermost rooms at feasts, that is, for social status, and for the chief seats in the synagogues, or, as we should put it, religious preferment; and, last but not least, for greetings in the market-place-to which we may compare an honored position on the Stock Exchange or at the Mansion House.
"They say and do not"
With Jesus listening to his every syllable, John boldly denounced the governing and respected classes of his day as "a generation of vipers." That the epithet struck like a knife, we know of a certainty, for years later Jesus repeated it more than once, with an emphasis all the more terrible because it was His own. There is, I think, evidence that, before endorsing John's words, Jesus, by personal observation, satisfied Himself of their justice. In the very stress of the final controversies which were a prelude to the Cross, His mind was so completely free from animus that--to use our own expression--He "went out of His way" to tell His disciples how the scribes and Pharisees, sitting in Moses' seat, must be obeyed for the truth that is in them. No one has ever put such strength into human language as Jesus, but, while He denounced, He never abused; every term that He employed accurately fitted the case. His verdict was simply that "they say and do not."
The peculiar quality of the viper is that, feeding on good food, it turns everything to poison, and, crawling on the ground, rises only to strike a victim. Look, for instance, at the Pharisee and the publican, both going up into the Temple to pray. Each of them addressed his prayer to God. But the Pharisee claimed God's praise, while the publican begged for God's mercy. The Pharisee judged himself by the lowest standard--by comparison with the extortioner, the unjust, and the adulterer; while the publican, with bowed head, submitted himself to the highest. The Pharisee went away, therefore, unwarned (as John put it) of the wrath to come, while the publican was "justified"--that is, was brought into line with righteous standards. The same act of devotion lulled one man to sleep, and stirred the other to repentance. The Pharisee did not realize that, in giving alms to the poor, he should have asked why men are so poor as to require alms. He did not know, apparently, that while he fasted twice a week, others went hungry all the time. And--viper-like--he could not lift up his head without striking poison into a fellow-creature. "Even this publican," said he in his prayer, thereby insinuating extortion, injustice, and adultery, against a man at that moment engaged with him in a common act of worship. Was it any wonder that, with crushing iteration, the Lord Jesus exclaimed : " Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?"
Essential Distinctions
Here we see how our Lord attacked the religious, to save religion. Twice He drove the money-changers from the Temple, because it was His Father's House. To Him, despite all tradition of the elders, it is Temple that sanctifies the gold, not the gold that sanctifies the Temple; and, in His eyes, the plainest conventicle is as hallowed as the most gorgeous cathedral, because, where two or three are gathered together, there is He in the midst. It is not the gift that hallows the altar, but the altar that hallows the gift; and men, if they need an oath, should swear by the widow's mite, which includes herself, rather than by the rich man's thousands, which remain mere money. The widow's mite, the widow's house, the widow's importunity, the widow's son--His test for society was more frequently this than any other--how the widow is treated. To this day, the widow and her children are the unsolved problem of poor law and charity. He did not attack the tithes of mint and anise and cummin--such taxation was, in His opinion, not heavy enough, for it omitted weightier matters, like judgment, mercy, and faith. He would spend a night in prayer, but, for this very reason, pronounced a greater damnation on those who make long prayers a pretense, while they devour widows' houses. He agreed, that a whited sepulcher is beautiful, but He looked with a discerning eye on cemeteries, and, with entire truthfulness, declared that, as in our hearts, so in the grandest mausoleum, lie dead men's bones; that what matters is not the tombstone and its inscription, but the way we behave to our prophets and our friends when they are alive. To Him, the nameless mound in Flanders is as sacred as the most gorgeous sarcophagus in mosque or minster, and His sole concern with the grave is whether it can imprison, not the body but the soul.
Keenly diagnosing the Pharisaic disease, Jesus tells us that the man who exalts himself loses his sense of proportion. He strains at a gnat, because a gnat, though small, causes him annoyance; he swallows a camel, because a camel does not happen to irritate him. He binds heavy burdens, grievous to be borne, and lays them on men's shoulders; but he does not move these burdens with one of his fingers. He compasses sea and land to make one proselyte (which Jesus never did), but when he is made, the proselyte is none the happier. Indeed, knowing what he has lost, as well as what he has failed to gain, he is twofold more the child of hell or of misery than the self-righteous man himself. The man is a blind guide who, not knowing that he is blind, and should himself be led, yet leads others beside himself into the ditch of disillusionment and despair.
One is your Master
John saw the wickedness of the scribes and Pharisees. Like Moses, he pronounced a curse upon the men who removed their neighbors' landmark. Jesus came not to curse, but to bless. What He realized was not men's wickedness merely, but their woe. He did not say to them, as John did, "Who hath warned you?" as if to repel the self-righteous. He wept over Jerusalem, and would have gathered these men, as a hen gathers her chickens, but they would not. John would have it that of these very stones--the hard and heartless Gentiles--God was able to raise up children unto the great-souled patriarch Abraham. Jesus would have saved the Jews themselves; would have shown them that, though children of Abraham, they were in bondage to sin; and would have set them free. John baptized, but did no miracle; Jesus did not baptize. But when they asked Him if, then, He was greater than Abraham, He looked on them, and for their sakes, since they needed His omnipotence, He declared: "Before Abraham was, I am." But they did not ask Him to rescue them. They did not seek His help. They took up the stones--as later they instigated the Gentiles--to destroy Him.
But we--we may still hear Him saying, Do not exalt yourselves. Be not called Rabbi. Think less of the earthly than of the heavenly Fatherhood. Because One alone is your Master, all ye are brethren. Be it noted, ALL. Not one exception made for emperor, pope, general, scientist, millionaire, artist, politician, or wage-earner. In this holy family there is one place for each, but no second place for pride or prejudice, for grievance or malice. On His forehead Jesus wore no phylactery, because the law of the family was hid in His heart. To His garments there was no enlarged border, because His entire robe, woven throughout and seamless, clothed Him like righteousness--type of His character which was self-consistent and in perfect proportion. By His humility He left it to His Father to exalt Him, and, having abased Himself, He now rises amongst us, in Divine and unutterable majesty.