As the people listened to John, they began to realize that baptism and repentance are not the end of the good life, but only the beginning; and they asked the question which every reformer has to answer, namely: What shall we do? John answered that if any of them had two coats, he should give one away, and that, similarly, he should share with others his food. In one sentence, John summed up what we call Socialism, as if, living at a distance, he could see this planet as a whole--a common heritage, granted by the Creator to our race, so that, in forest and field and mine and factory, there is enough, but no more than enough, to supply the needs of man's ever-more-abundant life. Whence it follows that a superfluity in some homes means that in others the people are less well fed than they ought to be, and less well clothed and taught and washed and healed when they are ill, because the balance is disturbed--the world is out of joint.
If, as a nation, we had followed John's teaching, and spent on missions what we now have to spend on war, who knows what guarantees of peace and justice we might not have established in the world? One way or the other, we have to learn the lesson, that our incomes are not our own. Cæsar will have our money or God will have it, but in Christ's accountancy there is no third column for Self.
On no occasion do we find that He carried with mm one farthing. At Samaria, it was the disciples who went into the village to buy meat. When they asked Him about giving tribute to Cæsar, they had to bring Him the penny, for He was penniless. His only purse was the mouth of a fish that Peter caught. And when they parted His garments among them, they did not discover any coin or notes. John had preached Socialism, but of all who heard him, Jesus alone lived the creed.
Christ's Mode of Living
Our Lord desired that others should live as He did. He told His twelve apostles, and afterwards His seventy evangelists, that they need not provide money in their purses by which to pay for things ; or wallet in which to collect things; or two coats, which weigh on the shoulders; or shoes, which drag on the feet; or staves--since he who is without property need fear no highwayman. To Jesus, the weight of a man's kit, like aimless gossip on the wayside, interfered with efficiency. He would have us give an account even of idle words, and avoid vain repetitions in our very prayers; and similarly, if we are to visit the cities of Israel before His return, and prepare them for Him--which, even after two thousand years of Christian effort, will require some town-planning--we must let Him rid us of useless labor and heavy lading. Our yoke must be easy; our burden must be light; our souls must be at rest. No Apostle covered so much ground as Paul, yet so modest was his equipment that when he reached Rome he had to ask Timothy to bring him a cloak all the way from Troas, because he needed it, while the parchments of this greatest theologian could be carried in a knapsack. He had no library, no jointures (except with the Saviour), no title-deeds (except to eternal life), no endowments (save the unsearchable riches). His only paraphernalia was content.
John's message, though very simple, thus had great results. We do not know whether all the Apostles gave up their private fortunes--each was responsible to the Master; but Peter and Andrew and the Boanerges left their fishing, while Matthew resigned his appointment in the Civil Service. The money on which these friends lived was handed to Judas Iscariot, who carried it for them in his bag; and so taught us that, if we would associate with Jesus in His work, we must regard ourselves, not as the owners but as the trustees of what we are held to possess.
In the Early Church they also sold their possessions, and by establishing a common fund, applied their property to human need, and so put it to the fullest use. The rich congregation helped the poor, and Paul made a special journey to Jerusalem in order to convey thither the gifts of the wealthier communities. Thus was laid the foundation of modern insurance, which is a pool in property to meet special risks, and an expression in finance of God's care for the individual. In the Roman Empire there was no system like this; it is essentially Christian, and based on the theory that if we pay, as premium, what, like the coat, we do not at the moment need, we shall, in the future, never be reduced to rags.
Co-workers with God
Again and again Jesus devoted Himself to teaching us what is meant by money. He condemned as unprofitable the servant who laid up his loan in a napkin, and denied the owner's right to increment. The man's prudence, like his napkin, was meant for use, not waste. But He held that all profit belongs absolutely to tue one Capitalist, and in due course must be handed back to Him. Not that He takes it out of the business, for none of God's material gifts leaves this world; on the contrary, He would reinvest the product of human effort for the benefit of the whole human race. As, in our work, we are trustees for Him; so, in our wealth, does He become, as it were, Trustee for us. Father and children are co-workers together.
Jesus fully understood the problems of Labor. He knew that while some men only work for one hour a day, others toil through the burden and heat; but He still lays it down that wages should be adjusted, not to the services rendered, since these are a duty to God rather than the employer, but to the needs of the worker. Each man receives the same penny, and rightly, because each has the same body to support, and the same family to feed. In the Old Testament, what they tried to establish was a standard rate of property: every man his vine, and every man his fig-tree. It broke down, because so many men, having called the vine and the fig-tree their own, wanted two vines and two fig-trees. Jesus took over our property, and substituted what trade-unions call a standard rate of pay which was to be sufficient for the day, but without margin for accumulation. Since the penny a day met every need, nothing was added for overtime, even when it was undoubtedly prolonged. Not that He ignored even that matter. The reason why some men had to work all day and all night was that other men stood idle in the market-place, and Jesus accepts their plea that they were idle because no one had hired them. Overtime and unemployment were thus, mutually, cause and effect; and by giving to each man a penny whether he worked long or little, our Lord invoked a public opinion which called upon each man--in our War phrase--"to do his bit." The idle man, whether he be among the unemployed or the paupers, is, in fact, a charge upon the State; and the unemployed should be offered, not charity, or sympathy, or criticism, but an opportunity of toil. It was Jesus who thus first advised a labor exchange.
To many people, thrift is a virtue because it implies self-control in the present and foresight for the future. But if Jesus had substituted a bank balance for a Father's care, His teaching would have excluded nine out of ten wage-earners. He was against laying up treasures on earth, because He realized that all property is liable, first, to moth and rust, by which are meant the depreciation that results inevitably from postponed use; and, second, to theft, with violence, like war. We read, too, of the farmer whose barns were full, but who did not sow his surplus corn or sell it for bread, so as to relieve the market, but pulled down his barns, which was waste of property, in order to build greater, which was waste of work; yet overlooked his own health. This financier was a fool, because he only thought of his assets; forgetting his liabilities, which included a mortgage on his soul, due to a sleepless Creditor, who foreclosed that very night after business hours. Wealth unspent made the rich man a miser.
Dives and Lazarus
Dives, on the other hand, though rich, was not such a miser. He fared sumptuously every day, and was clad in purple and fine linen, so enjoying his money. And Lazarus did not ask to share these pleasures; with the ever-amazing patience of the very poor, he would have been content with the mere crumbs which were thrown away, then as now, in lavish households. Dives did not drive Lazarus from his door; he simply ignored the man, and the very dogs--what the French aristocrats called the canaille--were kinder to him, licking his sores, which attentions may have been imperfect as Red Cross work, but implied an intimate personal sympathy. Surfeit and starvation both ended fatally, and we are told, as a fact of importance, that Dives was buried. There was quite a funeral. But what Lazarus thought of was the sequel to his unmentioned grave. In his poverty he had learnt the lessons of Abraham, who wandered forth alone to be the friend of God, and into Abraham's bosom he went.
Dives went to hell, and it was the hell of his own making. He was tormented by the flame of remorse. His only thought was Lazarus, still as far from him in death as he had been in life. He envied the very dogs, and begged for one drop of water to moisten his own tongue. Yet he knew that his offense was against a Greater than Lazarus, and it was to father Abraham that he appealed. He had his answer. This earthly drama, he discovered, is but a part of the whole. There is not one wrong that shall fail of being righted. The beggar who sustains evil without complaint is richer than the millionaire who receives good without gratitude. And if we make a distance between ourselves and others, that becomes fixed as a gulf; nor can even Lazarus, the man we have wronged, bridge the chasm. He cannot forgive us. He is not our judge. Nor can he warn us.
For thousands of years men have seen these social inequalities, but they are not stirred thereby. If they will not believe Moses and the Prophets, if Lazarus in rags does not convince them, neither will Lazarus emerging--as a Lazarus did emerge--in his grave-clothes from the tomb.