And Moses prayed for the people. 8. And the Lord said unto Moses, Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole: and it shall come to pa.s.s, that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live. 9. And Moses made a serpent of bra.s.s, and put it upon a pole, and it came to pa.s.s, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of bra.s.s, he lived."
--NUM. xxi. 4-9.
The mutinous discontent of the Israelites had some excuse when they had to wheel round once more and go southwards in consequence of the refusal of pa.s.sage through Edom. The valley which stretches from the Dead Sea to the head of the eastern arm of the Red Sea, down which they had to plod in order to turn the southern end of the mountains on its east side, and then resume their northern march outside the territory of Edom, is described as a "horrible desert." Certainly it yielded neither bread nor water. So the faithless pilgrims broke into their only too familiar murmurings, utterly ignoring their thirty-eight years of preservation. "There is no bread." No; but the manna had fallen day by day. "Our soul loatheth this light bread." Yes; but it was bread all the same. Thus coa.r.s.e tastes prefer garlic and onions to Heaven"s food, and complain of being starved while it is provided. "There is no water." No; but the "rock that followed them" gushed out abundance, and there was no thirst.
Murmuring brought punishment, which was meant for amendment. "The Lord sent fiery serpents." That statement does not necessarily imply a miracle. Scripture traces natural phenomena directly to G.o.d"s will, and often overleaps intervening material links between the cause which is G.o.d and the effect which is a physical fact. The neighbourhood of Elath at the head of the gulf is still infested with venomous serpents, "marked with fiery red spots," from which, or possibly from the inflammation caused by their poison, they are here called "fiery." G.o.d made the serpents, though they were hatched by eggs laid by mothers; He brought Israel to the place; He willed the poisonous stings. If we would bring ordinary events into immediate connection with the Divine hand, and would see in all calamities fatherly chastis.e.m.e.nt "for our profit," we should understand life better than we often do.
The swift stroke had fallen without warning or voice to interpret it, but the people knew in their hearts whence and why it had come. Their quick recognition of its source and purpose, and their swift repentance, are to be put to their credit. It is well for us when we interpret for ourselves G.o.d"s judgments, and need no Moses to urge us to humble ourselves before Him. Conscious guilt is conscious of unworthiness to approach G.o.d, though it dares to speak to offended men.
The request for Moses" intercession witnesses to the instinct of conscience, requiring a mediator,--an instinct which has led to much superst.i.tion and been terribly misguided, but which is deeply true, and is met once for all in Jesus Christ, our Advocate before the throne.
The request shows that the pet.i.tioners were sure of Moses" forgiveness for their distrust of him, and thus it witnesses to his "meekness." His pardon was a kind of pledge of G.o.d"s. Was the servant likely to be more gracious than the Master? A good man"s readiness to forgive helps bad men to believe in a pardoning G.o.d. It reflects some beam of Heaven"s mercy.
Moses had often prayed for the people when they had sinned, and before they had repented. It was not likely that he would be slow to do so when they asked him, for the asking was accompanied with ample confession. The serpents had done their work, and the prayer that the chastis.e.m.e.nt should cease would be based on the fact that the sin had been forsaken. But the narrative seems to antic.i.p.ate that, after the prayer had been offered and answered, Israelites would still be bitten.
If they were, that confirms the presumption that the sending of the serpents was not miraculous. It also brings the whole facts into line with the standing methods of Providence, for the outward consequences of sin remain to be reaped after the sin has been forsaken; but they change their character and are no longer destructive, but only disciplinary. "Serpents" still "bite" if we have "broken down hedges,"
but there is an antidote.
The command to make a brazen or copper serpent, and set it on some conspicuous place, that to look on it might stay the effect of the poison, is remarkable, not only as sanctioning the forming of an image, but as a.s.sociating healing power with a material object. Two questions must be considered separately,--What did the method of cure say to the men who turned their bloodshot, languid eyes to it? and What does it mean for us, who see it by the light of our Lord"s great words about it? As to the former question, we have not to take into account the Old Testament symbolism which makes the serpent the emblem of Satan or of sin. Serpents had bitten the wounded. Here was one like them, but without poison, hanging harmless on the pole. Surely that would declare that G.o.d had rendered innocuous the else fatal creatures. The elevation of the serpent was simply intended to make it visible from afar; but it could not have been set so high as to be seen from all parts of the camp, and we must suppose that the wounded were in many cases carried from the distant parts of the wide-spreading encampment to places whence they could catch a glimpse of it glittering in the sunshine. We are not told that trust in G.o.d was an essential part of the look, but that is taken for granted. Why else should a half-dead man lift his heavy eyelids to look? Such a one knew that G.o.d had commanded the image to be made, and had promised healing for a look. His gaze was fixed on it, in obedience to the command involved in the promise, and was, in some measure, a manifestation of faith. No doubt the faith was very imperfect, and the desire was only for physical healing; but none the less it had in it the essence of faith. It would have been too hard a requirement for men through whose veins the swift poison was burning its way, and who, at the best, were so little capable of rising above sense, to have asked from them, as the condition of their cure, a trust which had no external symbol to help it. The singularity of the method adopted witnesses to the graciousness of G.o.d, who gave their feebleness a thing that they could look at, to aid them in grasping the unseen power which really effected the cure. "He that turned himself to it,"
says the Book of Wisdom, "was not saved by the thing which he saw, but by Thee, that art the Saviour of all."
Our Lord has given us the deepest meaning of the brazen serpent. Taught by Him, we are to see in it a type of Himself, the significance of which could not be apprehended till Calvary had given the key. Three distinct points of parallel are suggested by His use of the incident in His conversation with Nicodemus. First, He takes the serpent as an emblem of Himself. Now it is clear that it is so, not in regard to the saving power that dwells in Him, but in regard to His sinless manhood, which was made "in the likeness of sinful flesh," yet "without sin."
The symbolism which takes the serpent as the material type of sin comes into view now, and is essential to the full comprehension of the typical significance of the incident.
Secondly, Jesus laid stress on the "lifting up" of the serpent. That "lifting up" has two meanings. It primarily refers to the Crucifixion, wherein, just as the death-dealing power was manifestly triumphed over in the elevation of the brazen serpent, the power of sin is exhibited as defeated, as Paul says, "triumphing over them in it" (Col. ii.
14,15). But that lifting up on the Cross draws after it the elevation to the throne, and to that, or, rather, to both considered as inseparably united, our Lord refers when He says," I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me."
Thirdly, the condition of healing is paralleled. "When he looked unto the serpent of bra.s.s, he lived." "That whosoever believeth may in Him have eternal life." From the serpent no healing power flowed; but our eternal life is "_in_ Him," and _from_ Him it flows into our poisoned, dying nature. The sole condition of receiving into ourselves that new life which is free from all taint of sin, and is mighty enough to arrest the venom that is diffused through every drop of blood, is faith in Jesus lifted on the Cross to slay the sin that is slaying mankind, and raised to the throne to bestow His own immortal and perfect life on all who look to Him. The bitten Israelite might be all but dead. The poison wrought swiftly; but if he from afar lifted his glazing eyeb.a.l.l.s to the serpent on the pole, a swifter healing overtook the death that was all but conqueror, and cast it out, and he who was borne half unconscious to the foot of the standard went away a sound man, "walking, and leaping, and praising G.o.d." So it may be with any man, however deeply tainted with sin, if he will trust himself to Jesus, and from "the ends of the earth" "look unto" Him "and be saved," His power knows no hopeless cases. He _can_ cure all. He _will_ cure our most ingrained sin, and calm the hottest fever of our poisoned blood, if we will let Him. The only thing that we have to do is to gaze, with our hearts in our eyes and faith in our hearts, on Him, as He is lifted on the Cross and the throne. But we must so gaze, or we die, for none but He can cast out the coursing venom. None but He can arrest the swift-footed death that is intertwined with our very natures.
BALAAM
"He sent messengers therefore unto Balaam the son of Beor to Pethor, which is by the river of the land of the children of his people, to call him, saying, Behold there is a people come out from Egypt: behold, they cover the face of the earth, and they abide over against me."--NUM. xxii. 6.
Give a general outline of the history. See Bishop Butler"s great sermon.
I. How much knowledge and love of good there may be in a bad man.
Balaam was a prophet:
_(a)_ He knew something of the divine character,
_(b)_ He knew what righteousness was (Micah v. 8).
_(c)_ He knew of a future state, and longed for "the last end of the righteous."
He would not break the law of G.o.d, and curse by word of mouth:
But yet for all that he wanted to curse. He wanted to do the wrong thing, and that made him bad. And when he durst not do it in one way, he did it in another.
So he is a picture of the universal blending and mixture that there is even in bad men.
It is not knowledge that makes a man good.
It is not aspirations after righteousness. These dwell more or less in all souls.
It is not desire "to go to heaven"--everybody has that desire.
Perfectly vicious men are devils. There is always the blending.
Many of us are trusting to these vagrant wishes, but my friends, it is not what a man would sometimes like, but what the whole set and tenor of his life tends towards, that makes him. There may be plenty of backwater eddies and cross-currents in the sea, but the tide goes on all the same.
"All these fancies and their whole array One cunning bosom sin blows quite away,"
"Let no man deceive you; he that doeth righteousness is righteous."
Do not trust your convictions; they are powerless in the fight.
II. How men may deceive themselves about their condition, or the self-illusions and compromises of sin.
These convictions will never, by themselves, keep a man from evil, but they may lead men to try to compromise, just as Balaam did. He would go, but he would not, for the life of him, curse; and he evidently thought that he was a hero in firmness and a martyr to duty.
He would not curse in words, but he did it in another way--by means of Baal-peor.
So we find men making compromises between duty and inclination; keeping the letter and breaking the spirit; obeying in some respects and indemnifying themselves for their obedience by their disobedience in others; very devout, attentive to all religious observances, and yet sinning on. And we find such men playing tricks upon themselves, and really deluding themselves into the idea that they are very good men!
This is the great characteristic of sin, its deceitfulness. It always comes as an "angel of light," like some of those weird stories in which we read about a strange guest at a banquet who discloses a skeleton below the wedding garment!
"Father of lies." "_Nihil imbecillius denudato diabolo._" The more one sins, the less capable he becomes of discerning evil. Conscience becomes sophisticated, and it is always possible to refine away its judgments.
"By reason of use have their senses exercised to discern." "Take heed lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin."
III. The absurdity and unreasonableness of unrighteousness.
We look at Balaam, and think, how could a man purpose anything so foolish as to go on seeking for an opportunity to break a law which he knew to be irrevocable!
Yet what did he do but what every sinner does?
All sin is the breach of law which at the very moment of breaking is known to be imperative.
All sin is thus the overbearing of conscience, or the sophistication of conscience, and all sin is the incurring voluntarily of consequences which at the moment are or might be known to be certain, and far overbalancing any fancied "wages of unrighteousness."
Thus all sin is the overbearing of reason or the sophisticating of reason by pa.s.sion. Men know the absurdity of sin, and yet men will go on sinning. "A rogue is a roundabout fool." All wrongdoing is a mighty blunder. It is only righteousness which is congruous with a man"s reason, with a man"s conscience, with a man"s highest happiness. "The fear of the Lord," that is wisdom.
IV. The wages of unrighteousness.
How Balaam"s experiment ended--his death. He tried to make the "best of both worlds," so he ran with the hare and hunted with the hounds, and this was how it ended, as it always does, as it always will. How death ends all the illusions, sternly breaks down all the compromises, reveals all the absurdities!
Men are one thing or the other. Learn, then, the lesson that no gifts, no talents, no convictions, no aspirations will avail.
Let this sad figure which looks out upon us with grey streaming hair and uplifted hands from beside the altar on Pisgah speak to us.