THE OUTER COURT.
Exodus 27
Before describing the tabernacle, its furniture was specified.
And so, when giving instructions for the court of the tabernacle,
the altar has to be described: "Thou shalt make the altar of acacia
wood." The definite article either implies that an altar was taken
for granted, a thing of course; or else it points back to chap. Exo
20:24, which said "An altar of earth shalt thou make." Nor is the
acacia wood of this altar at all inconsistent with that precept, it
being really not an altar but an altar-case, and "hollow" (Exo
27:8)--an arrangement for holding the earth together, and preventing
the feet of the priests from desecrating it. At each corner was a
horn, of one piece with the framework, typical of the power which
was there invoked, and practically useful, both to bind the
sacrifice with cords, and also for the grasp of the fugitive,
seeking sanctuary (Psa 118:27; 1Ki 1:50). This arrangement is said
to have been peculiar to Judaism. And as the altar was outside the
tabernacle, and both symbolism and art prescribed simpler materials,
it was overlaid with brass (Exo 27:1-2). Of the same material were
the vessels necessary for the treatment of the fire and blood (Exo
27:3). A network of brass protected the lower part of the altar; and
at half the height a ledge projected, supported by this network, and
probably wide enough to allow the priests to stand upon it when they
ministered (Exo 27:4-5). Hence we read that Aaron "came down from
offering" (Lev 9:22). Lastly, there was the same arrangement of
rings and staves to carry it as for the ark and the table (Exo
27:6-7).
It will be noticed that the laver in this court, like the altar
of incense within, is reserved for mention in a later chapter (Exo
30:18) as being a subordinate feature in the arrangements.
The enclosure was a quadrangle of one hundred cubits by fifty; it
was five cubits high, and each cubit may be taken as a foot and a
half. The linen which enclosed it was upheld by pillars with sockets
of brass; and one of the few additional facts to be gleaned from the
detailed statement that all these directions were accurately carried
out is that the heads of all the pillars were overlaid with silver (Exo
38:17). The pillars were connected by rods (fillets) of silver, and
a hanging of fine-twined linen was stretched by means of silver
hooks (Exo 27:9-13). The entrance was twenty cubits wide,
corresponding accurately to the width, not of the tabernacle, but of
"the tent" as it has been described (reaching out five cubits
farther on each side than the tabernacle), and it was closed by an
embroidered curtain (Exo 27:14-17). This fence was drawn firmly into
position and held there by brazen tent-pins; and we here
incidentally learn that so was the tent itself (Exo 27:19).
We are now in a position to ask what sentiment all these
arrangements would inspire in the mind of the simple and somewhat
superstitious worshippers.
Approaching it from outside, the linen enclosure (being seven
feet and a half high) would conceal everything but the great roof of
the tent, one uniform red, except for the sealskin covering along
the summit. A gloomy and menacing prospect, broken possibly by some
gleams, if the curtain of the gable were drawn back, from the gold
with which every portion of the shrine within was plated.
So does the world outside look askance upon the Church,
discerning a mysterious suggestion everywhere of sternness and awe,
yet with flashes of strange splendour and affluence underneath the
gloom.
In this place God is known to be: it is a tent, not really "of
the congregation," but "of meeting" between Jehovah and His people:
"the tent of meeting before the Lord, where I will meet with you,
... and there I will meet with the children of Israel" (Exo
29:42-43). And so the Israelite, though troubled by sin and fear, is
attracted to the gate, and enters. Right in front stands the altar:
this obtrudes itself before all else upon his attention: he must
learn its lesson first of all. Especially will he feel that this is
so if a sacrifice is now to be offered, since the official must go
farther into the court to wash at the laver, and then return; so
that a loss of graduated arrangement has been accepted in order to
force the altar to the front. And he will soon learn that not only
must every approach to the sacred things within be heralded by
sacrifice upon this altar, but the blood of the victim must be
carried as a passport into the shrine. Surely he remembers how the
blood of the lamb saved his own life when the firstborn of Egypt
died: he knows that it is written "The life (or soul) of the flesh
is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make
atonement for your souls (or lives): for it is the blood that maketh
atonement by reason of the life (or soul)" (Lev 17:11).
No Hebrew could watch his fellow-sinner lay his hand on a
victim's head, and confess his sin before the blow fell on it,
without feeling that sin was being, in some mysterious sense,
"borne" for him. The intricacies of our modern theology would not
disturb him, but this is the sentiment by which the institutions of
the tabernacle assuredly ministered comfort and hope to him. Strong
would be his hope as he remembered that the service and its solace
were not of human devising, that God had "given it to him upon the
altar to make atonement for his soul."
Taking courage, therefore, the worshipper dares to lift up his
eyes. And beyond the altar he sees a vision of dazzling
magnificence. The inner roof, most unlike the sullen red of the
exterior, is blazing with various colours, and embroidered with
emblems of the mysterious creatures of the sky, winged, yet not
utterly afar from human in their suggestiveness. Encompassed and
looked down into by these is the tabernacle, all of gold. If the
curtain is raised he sees a chamber which tells what the earth
should be--a place of consecrated energies and resources, and of
sacred illumination, the oil of God burning in the sevenfold vessel
of the Church. Is this blessed place for him, and may he enter? Ah,
no! and surely his heart would grow heavy with consciousness that
reconciliation was not yet made perfect, when he learned that he
must never approach the place where God had promised to meet with
him.
Much less might he penetrate the awful chamber within, the true
home of deity. There, he knows, is the record of the mind of God,
the concentrated expression of what is comparatively easy to obey in
act, but difficult beyond hope to love, to accept and to be
conformed to. That record is therefore at once the revelation of God
and the condemnation of His creature. Yet over this, he knows well,
there is poised no dead image such as were then adored in Babylonian
and Egyptian fanes, but a spiritual Presence, the glory of the
invisible God. Nor was He to be thought of as in solitude, loveless,
or else needing human love: above Him were the woven seraphim of the
curtain, and on either side a seraph of beaten gold--types, it may
be, of all the created life which He inhabits, or else pictures of
His sinless creatures of the upper world. And yet this pure Being,
to Whom the companionship of sinful man is so little needed, is
there to meet with man; and is pleased not to look upon His violated
law, but to command that a slab, inestimably precious, shall
interpose between it and its Avenger. By whom, then, shall this most
holy floor be trodden? By the official representative of him who
gazes, and longs, and is excluded. He enters not without blood,
which he is careful to sprinkle upon all the furniture, but chiefly
and seven times upon the mercy-seat.
Thus every worshipper carries away a profound consciousness that
he is utterly unworthy, and yet that his unworthiness has been
expiated; that he is excluded, and yet that his priest, his
representative, has been admitted, and therefore that he may hope.
The Holy Ghost did not declare by sign that no way into the Holiest
existed, but only that it was not yet made manifest. Not yet.
This leads us to think of the priest.