THE SHRINE AND ITS
FURNITURE.
Exo 25:1-40
The first direction given to Moses on the mountain is to prepare
for the making of a tabernacle wherein God may dwell with man. For
this he must invite offerings of various kinds, metals and gems,
skins and fabrics, oil and spices; and the humblest man whose heart
is willing may contribute toward an abode for Him Whom the heaven of
heavens cannot contain.
Strange indeed is the contrast between the mountain burning up to
heaven, and the lowly structure of the wood of the desert, which was
now to be erected by subscription.
And yet the change marks not a lower conception of deity, but an
advance, just as the quiet and serene communion of a saint with God
is loftier than the most agitating experience of the convert.
This is the first announcement of a fixed abiding presence of God
in the midst of men, and it is therefore the precursor of much. St.
John certainly alluded to this earliest dwelling of God on earth
when he wrote, "The Word was made flesh, and tabernacled among us" (Joh
1:14). A little later it was said, "Ye also are builded together for
an habitation of God" (Eph 2:22); and again the very words used at
first of the tabernacle are applied to faithful souls: "We are a
temple of the living God, as God said, I will dwell in them and walk
in them" (2Co 6:16; Lev 26:11). For God dwelt on earth in the
Messiah hidden by the veil, that is to say His flesh (Heb 10:20),
and also in the hearts of all the faithful. And a yet fuller
communion is to come, of which the tabernacle in the wilderness was
a type, even the descent of the Holy City, when the true tabernacle
of God shall be with men, and He shall tabernacle with them (Rev
21:3).
It may seem strange that after the commandment "Let them make Me
a sanctuary" the whole chapter is devoted to instructions, not for
the tabernacle but for its furniture. But indeed the four articles
enumerated in this chapter present a wonderfully graphic picture of
the nature and terms of the intercourse of God with man. On one side
is His revelation of righteousness, but righteousness propitiated
and become gracious, and this is symbolised by the ark of the
testimony and the mercy-seat. On the other side the consecration
both of secular and sacred life is typified by the table with bread
and wine, and by the golden candlestick. Except thus, no tabernacle
could have been the dwelling of the Lord, nor ever shall be.
And this is the true reason why the altar of incense is not even
mentioned until a later chapter (Exodus 30). We do homage to God
because He is present: it is rather the consequence than the
condition of His abode with us.
The first step towards the preparation of a shrine for God on
earth is the enshrining of His will: Moses should therefore make
first of all an ark, wherein to treasure up "the testimony which I
shall give thee," the two tables of the law (Exo 25:16). In it were
also the pot of manna and Aaron's rod which budded (Heb 9:4), and
beside it was laid the whole book of the law, for a testimony, alas!
against them (Deu 31:26).
Thus the ark was to treasure up the expression of the will of
God, and the relics which told by what mercies and deliverances He
claimed obedience. It was a precious thing, but not the most
precious, as we shall presently learn; and therefore it was not made
of pure gold, but overlaid with it. That it might be reverently
carried, four rings were cast and fastened to it at the lower
corners, and in these four staves, also overlaid with gold, were
permanently inserted.
The next article mentioned is the most important of all.
It would be a great mistake to suppose that the mercy-seat was a
mere lid, an ordinary portion of the ark itself. It was made of a
different and more costly material, of pure gold, with which the ark
was only overlaid. There is separate mention that Bezaleel "made the
ark, ... and he made the mercy-seat" (Exo 37:1, Exo 37:6), and the
special presence of God in the Most Holy Place is connected much
more intimately with the mercy-seat than with the remainder of the
structure. Thus He promises to "appear in the cloud above the
mercy-seat" (Lev 16:2). And when it is written that "Moses heard the
Voice speaking unto him from above the mercy-seat which is upon the
ark of the testimony" (Num 7:89), it would have been more natural to
say directly "from above the ark" unless some stress were to be laid
upon the interposing slab of gold. In reality no distinction could
be sharper than between the ark and its cover, from whence to hear
the voice of God. And so thoroughly did all the symbolism of the
Most Holy Place gather around this supreme object, that in one place
it is actually called "the house of the mercy-seat" (1Ch 28:11).
Let us, then, put ourselves into the place of an ancient
worshipper. Excluded though he is from the Holy Place, and conscious
that even the priests are shut out from the inner shrine, yet the
high priest who enters is his brother: he goes on his behalf: the
barrier is a curtain, not a wall.
But while the Israelite mused upon what was beyond, the ark, as
we have seen, suggests the depth of his obligation; for there is the
rod of his deliverance and the bread from heaven which fed him; and
there also are the commandments which he ought to have kept. And his
conscience tells him of ingratitude, and a broken covenant; by the
law is the knowledge of sin.
It is therefore a sinister and menacing thought that immediately
above this ark of the violated covenant burns the visible
manifestation of God, his injured Benefactor.
And hence arises the golden value of that which interposes,
beneath which the accusing law is buried, by means of which God
"hides His face from our sins."
The worshipper knows this cover to be provided by a separate
ordinance of God, after the ark and its contents had been arranged
for, and finds in it a vivid concrete representation of the idea
"Thou hast cast all my sins behind Thy back" (Isa 38:17). That this
was its true intention becomes more evident when we ascertain
exactly the meaning of the term which we have, not too precisely,
rendered "mercy-seat."
The word "seat" has no part in the original; and we are not to
think of God as reposing on it, but as revealing Himself above. The
erroneous notion has probably transferred itself to the type from
the heavenly antitype, which is "the throne of grace," but it has no
countenance either in the Greek or the Hebrew name of the Mosaic
institution. Nor is the notion expressed that of gratuitous and
unbought "mercy." When Jehovah showeth mercy unto thousands, the
word is different. It is true that the root means "to cover," and is
once employed in Scripture in that sense (Gen 6:14); but its ethical
use is generally connected with sacrifice; and when we read of a
"sin-offering for atonement," of the half-shekel being an
"atonement-money," and of "the day of atonement," the word is a
simple and very similar development from the same root with this
which we render mercy-seat (Exo 30:10, Exo 30:16; Lev 23:27, etc.).
The Greek word is found twice in the New Testament: once when the
cherubim of glory overshadow the mercy-seat, and again when
God hath set forth Christ to be a propitiation (Heb 9:5; Rom
3:25). The mercy-seat is therefore to be thought of in connection
with sin, but sin expiated and thus covered and put away.
We know mysteries which the Israelite could not guess of the
means by which this was brought to pass. But as he watched the high
priest disappearing into that awful solitude, with God, as he
listened to the chime of bells, swung by his movements, and
announcing that still he lived, two conditions stood out broadly
before his mind. One was the bringing in of incense: "Thou shalt
bring a censer full of burning coals of fire from before the altar,
that the cloud of the incense may cover the mercy-seat" (Lev 16:13).
Now, the connection between prayer and incense was quite familiar to
the Jew; and he could not but understand that the blessing of
atonement was to be sought and won by intense and burning
supplication. And the other was that invariable demand, the offering
of a victim's blood. All the sacrifices of Judaism culminated in the
great act when the high priest, standing in the most holy and the
most occult spot in all the world, sprinkled "blood upon the
mercy-seat eastwards, and before the mercy-seat sprinkled of the
blood with his finger seven times" (Lev 16:14).
Thus the crowning height of the Jewish ritual was attained when
the blood of the great national sacrifice was offered not only
before God, but, with special reference to the covering up of the
broken and accusing law, before the mercy-seat.
No wonder that on either side of it, and moulded of the same mass
of metal, were the cherubim in an attitude of adoration, their
outspread wings covering it, their faces bent, not only as bowing in
reverence before the Divine presence, but, as we expressly read,
"toward the mercy-seat shall the faces of the cherubim be." For the
meaning of this great symbol was among the things which "the angels
desire to look into."
We now understand how much was gained when God said "There will I
meet thee, and I will commune with thee from above the mercy-seat" (Exo
25:22). It was an assurance, not only of the love which desires
obedience, but of the mercy which passes over failure.[39]
Thus far, there has been symbolised the mind of God, His
righteousness and His grace.
The next articles have to do with man, his homage to God and his
witness for Him.
There is first the table of the shewbread (Exo 25:23-30),
overlaid with pure gold, surrounded, like the ark, with "a crown" or
moulding of gold, for ornament and the greater security of the
loaves, and strengthened by a border of pure gold carried around the
base, which was also ornamented with a crown, or moulding. Close to
this border were rings for staves, like those by which the ark was
borne. The table was furnished with dishes upon which, every Sabbath
day, new shewbread might be conveyed into the tabernacle, and the
old might be removed for the priests to eat. There were spoons also,
by which to place frankincense upon each pile of bread; and "flagons
and bowls to pour out withal." What was thus to be poured we do not
read, but there is no doubt that it was wine, second only to bread
as a requisite of Jewish life, and forming, like the frankincense, a
link between this weekly presentation and the meal-offerings. But
all these were subordinate to the twelve loaves, one for each tribe,
which were laid in two piles upon the table. It is clear that their
presentation was the essence of the rite, and not their consumption
by the priests, which was possibly little more than a safeguard
against irreverent treatment. For the word shewbread is literally
bread of the face or presence, which word is used of the presence of
God, in the famous prayer "If Thy presence go not with me, carry us
not up hence" (Exo 33:15). And of whom, other than God, can it here
be reasonably understood? Now Jacob, long before, had vowed "Of all
that Thou givest me, I will surely give the tenth to Thee" (Gen
28:22). And it was an edifying ordinance that a regular offering
should be made to God of the staple necessaries of existence, as a
confession that all came from Him, and an appeal, clearly expressed
by covering it with frankincense, which typified prayer (Lev 24:7)
that He would continue to supply their need.
Nor is it overstrained to add, that when this bread was given to
their priestly representatives to eat, with all reverence and in a
holy place, God responded, and gave back to His people that which
represented the necessary maintenance of the tribes. Thus it was,
"on the behalf of the children of Israel, an everlasting covenant"
(Lev 24:8).
The form has perished. But as long as we confess in the Lord's
Prayer that the wealthiest does not possess one day's bread ungiven--as
long, also, as Christian families connect every meal with a due
acknowledgment of dependence and of gratitude--so long will the
Church of Christ continue to make the same confession and appeal
which were offered in the shewbread upon the table.
The next article of furniture was the golden candlestick (Exo
25:31-40). And this presents the curious phenomenon that it is
extremely clear in its typical import, and in its material outline;
but the details of the description are most obscure, and impossible
to be gathered from the Authorised Version. Strictly speaking, it
was not a lamp, but only a gorgeous lamp-stand, with one
perpendicular shaft, and six branches, three springing, one above
another, from each side of the shaft, and all curving up to the same
height. Upon these were laid the seven lamps, which were altogether
separate in their construction (Exo 25:37). It was of pure gold, the
base and the main shaft being of one piece of beaten metal. Each of
the six branches was ornamented with three cups, made like almond
blossoms; above these a "knop," variously compared by Jewish writers
to an apple and a pomegranate, and still higher, a flower or bud. It
is believed that there was a fruit and flower above each of the
cups, making nine ornaments on each branch. The "candlestick" in Exo
25:34 can only mean the central shaft, and upon this there were
"four cups with their knops and flowers" instead of three. With the
lamp were tongs, and snuff-dishes in which to remove the charred
wick from the temple.
As we are told that when the Lord called the child Samuel, "the
lamp of God was not yet gone out" (1Sa 3:3), it follows that the
lights were kept burning only during the night.
We have now to ascertain the spiritual meaning of this stately
symbol. There are two other passages in Scripture which take up the
figure and carry it forward. In Zechariah (Zec 4:2-12) we are taught
that the separation of the lamps is a mere incident; they are to be
conceived of as organically one, and moreover as fed by secret ducts
with oil from no limited supply, but from living olive trees, vital,
rooted in the system of the universe. Whatever obscurity may veil
those "two sons of oil" (and this is not the place to discuss the
subject), we are distinctly told that the main lesson is that of
lustre derived from supernatural, invisible sources. Zerubbabel is
confronted by a great mountain of hindrance, but it shall become a
plain before him, because the lesson of the vision of the
candlestick is this--"Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit,
saith the Lord." A lamp gives light not because the gold shines, but
because the oil burns; and yet the oil is the one thing which the
eye sees not. And so the Church is a witness for her Lord, a light
shining in a dark place, not because of its learning or culture, its
noble ritual, its stately buildings or its ample revenues. All these
things her children, having the power, ought to dedicate. The
ancient symbol put art and preciousness in an honourable place,
worthily upholding the lamp itself; and in the New Testament the
seven lamps of the Apocalypse were still of gold. But the true
function of a lamp is to be luminous, and for this the Church
depends wholly upon its supply of grace from God the Holy Ghost. It
is "not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord."
Again, in the Revelation, we find the New Testament Churches
described as lamps, among which their Lord habitually walks. And no
sooner have the seven churches on earth been warned and cheered,
than we are shown before the throne of God seven torches (burning by
their own incandescence--vide Trench, N. T. Synonyms,
p. 162), which are the seven spirits of God, answering to His seven
light-bearers upon the earth (Rev 4:5).
Lastly, the perfect and mystic number, seven, declares that the
light of the Church, shining in a dark place, ought to be full and
clear, no imperfect presentation of the truth: "they shall light the
lamps, to give light over against it."
Because this lamp shines with the light of the Church, exhibiting
the graces of her Lord, therefore a special command is addressed to
the people, besides the call for contributions to the work in
general, that they shall bring pure olive oil, not obtained by heat
and pressure, but simply beaten, and therefore of the best quality,
to feed its flame.
It is to burn, as the Church ought to shine in all darkness of
the conscience or the heart of man, from evening to morning for
ever. And the care of the ministers of God is to be the continual
tending of this blessed and sacred flame.
THE PATTERN IN THE MOUNT.
Exo 25:9, Exo 25:40.
Twice over (Exo 25:9, Exo 25:40, and cf. Exo 26:30, Exo 27:8,
etc.) Moses was reminded to be careful to make all things after the
pattern shown him in the mount. And these words have sometimes been
so strained as to convey the meaning that there really exists in
heaven a tabernacle and its furniture, the grand original from which
the Mosaic copy was derived.
That is plainly not what the Epistle to the Hebrews understands
(Heb 8:5). For it urges this admonition as a proof that the old
dispensation was a shadow of ours, in which Christ enters into
heaven itself, and our consciences are cleansed from dead works to
serve the living God. The citation is bound indissolubly with all
the demonstration which follows it.
We are not, then, to think of a heavenly tabernacle, exhibited to
the material senses of Moses, with which all the details of his own
work must be identical.
Rather we are to conceive of an inspiration, an ideal, a vision
of spiritual truths, to which all this work in gold and acacia-wood
should correspond. It was thus that Socrates told Glaucon,
incredulous of his republic, that in heaven there is laid up a
pattern, for him that wishes to behold it. Nothing short of this
would satisfy the inspired application of the words in the Epistle
to the Hebrews, where the readers, who were Jewish converts, are
asked to recognise in this verse evidence that the light of the new
dispensation illuminated the institutions of the old.
Without this pervading sentiment, the most elaborate
specifications of weight and measurement, of cup and pomegranate and
flower, could never have produced the required effect. An ideal
there was, a divinely designed suggestiveness, which must be always
present to his superintending vigilance, as once it shone upon his
soul in sacred vision or trance; a suggestiveness which might
possibly be lost amid correct elaborations, like the soul of a poem
or a song, evaporating through a rendering which is correct enough,
yet in which the spirit, even if that alone, has been forgotten.
It is surely a striking thing to find this need of a pervading
sentiment impressed upon the author of the first piece of religious
art that ever was recognised by heaven.
For it is the mysterious all-pervading charm of such a dominant
sentiment which marks the impassable difference between the lowliest
work of art, and the highest piece of art-manufacture which is only
a manufactured article.
And assuredly the recognition of this principle among a people
whose ancient history shows but little interest in art, calls for
some attention from those who regard the tabernacle itself as a
fiction, and its details as elaborated in Babylonia, in the priestly
interest. (Kuenen, Relig. of Israel, ii. 148).
The problem of problems for all who deny the divinity of the Old
Testament is to explain the curious position which its institutions
are consistent in accepting. They rest on the authority of heaven,
and yet they are not definitive, but provisional. They are always
looking forward to another prophet like their founder, a new
covenant better than the present one, a high priest after the order
of a Canaanite enthroned at the right hand of Jehovah, a
consecration for every pot in the city like that of the vessels in
the temple (Deu 18:15; Jer 31:31; Psa 110:1, Psa 110:4; Zec 14:20).
And here, "in the priestly interest," is an avowal that the Divine
habitation which they boast of is but the likeness and shadow of
some Divine reality concealed. And these strange expectations have
proved to be the most fruitful and energetic principles in their
religion.
This very presence of the ideal is what will for ever make the
highest natures quite certain that the visible universe is no mere
resultant of clashing forces without a soul, but the genuine work of
a Creator. The universe is charged throughout with the most powerful
appeals to all that is artistic and vital within us; so that a
cataract is more than water falling noisily, and the silence of
midnight more than the absence of disturbance, and a snow mountain
more than a storehouse to feed the torrents in summer, being also
poems, appeals, revelations, whispers from a spirit, heard in the
depth of ours.
Does any one, listening to Beethoven's funeral march, doubt the
utterance of a soul, as distinct from clanging metal and vibrating
chords? And the world has in it this mysterious witness to something
more than heat and cold, moisture and drought: something which makes
the difference between a well-filled granary and a field of grain
rippling golden in the breeze. This is not a coercive argument for
the hostile logic-monger: it is an appeal for the open heart. "He
that hath ears to hear, let him hear."
To fill the tabernacle of Moses with spiritual meaning, the ideal
tabernacle was revealed to him in the Mount of God.
Let us apply the same principle to human life. There also harmony
and unity, a pervading sense of beauty and of soul, are not to be
won by mere obedience to a mandate here and a prohibition there.
Like Moses, it is not by labour according to specification that we
may erect a shrine for deity. Those parables which tell of obedient
toil would be sadly defective, therefore, without those which speak
of love and joy, a supper, a Shepherd bearing home His sheep, a
prodigal whose dull expectation of hired service is changed for
investiture with the best robe and the gold ring, and welcome of
dance and music.
How shall our lives be made thus harmonious, a spiritual poem and
not a task, a chord vibrating under the musician's hand? How shall
thought and word, desire and deed, become like the blended voices of
river and wind and wood, a witness for the divine? Not by mere
elaboration of detail (though correctness is a condition of all true
art), but by a vision before us of the divine life, the Ideal, the
pattern shown to all, and equally to be imitated (strange though it
may seem) by peasant and prince, by woman and sage and child.
FOOTNOTES:
[39] This investigation offers a fine
example of the folly of that kind of interpretation which looks
about for some sort of external and arbitrary resemblance, and
fastens upon that as the true meaning. Nothing is more common among
these expounders than to declare that the wood and gold of the ark
are types of the human and Divine natures of our Lord. If either ark
or mercy-seat should be compared to Him, it is obviously the latter,
which speaks of mercy. But this was of pure gold.