INCENSE.
Exo 30:1-10.
The altar of incense was not mentioned when the tent of meeting
was being prepared and furnished. But when, in the Divine idea, this
is done, when all is ready for the intercourse of God and man, and
the priest and the daily victims are provided for, something more
than this formal routine of offerings might yet be sought for. This
material worship of the senses, this round of splendour and of
tragedy, this blaze of gold and gold-encrusted timber, these
curtains embroidered in bright colours, and ministers glowing with
gems, this blood and fire upon the altar, this worldly
sanctuary,--was it all? Or should it not do as nature ever does,
which seems to stretch its hands out into the impalpable, and to
grow all but spiritual while we gaze; so that the mountain folds
itself in vapour, and the ocean in mist and foam, and the rugged
stem of the tree is arrayed in fineness of quivering frondage, and
it may be of tinted blossom, and around it breathes a subtle
fragrance, the most impalpable existence known to sense? Fragrance
indeed is matter passing into the immaterial, it is the sigh of the
sensuous for the spiritual state of being, it is an aspiration.
And therefore an altar, smaller than that of burnt-offering, but
much more precious, being plated all around and on the top with gold
(a "golden altar") (Exo 39:38), is now to be prepared, on which
incense of sweet spices should be burned whenever a burnt-offering
spoke of human devotion, and especially when the daily lamb was
offered, every morning and every night.
This altar occupied a significant position. Of necessity, it was
without the Most Holy Place, or else it would have been practically
inaccessible; and yet it was spiritually in the closest connection
with the presence of God within. The Epistle to the Hebrews reckons
it among the furniture of the inner shrine[41]
(Heb 9:4), close to the veil of which it stood, and within which its
burning odours made their sweetness palpable. In the temple of
Solomon it was "the altar that belonged to the oracle" (1Ki 6:22).
In Leviticus (Lev 16:12) incense was connected especially with that
spot in the Most Holy Place which best expressed the grace that it
appealed to, and "the cloud of incense" was to "cover the
mercy-seat." Therefore Moses was bidden to put this altar "before
the veil that is by the ark of the testimony, before the mercy-seat"
(Exo 30:6).
It can never have been difficult to see the meaning of the rite
for which this altar was provided. When Zacharias burned incense the
multitude stood without, praying. The incense in the vial of the
angel of the Apocalypse was the prayers of the saints (Luk 1:10; Rev
8:3). And, long before, when the Psalmist thought of the priest
approaching the veil which concealed the Supreme Presence, and there
kindling precious spices until their aromatic breath became a silent
plea within, it seemed to him that his own heart was even such an
altar, whence the perfumed flame of holy longings might be wafted
into the presence of his God, and he whispered, "Let my prayer be
set forth before Thee as incense" (Psa 141:2).
Such being the import of the type, we need not wonder that it was
a perpetual ordinance in their generations, nor yet that no strange
perfume might be offered, but only what was prescribed by God. The
admixture with prayer of any human, self-asserting, intrusive
element, is this unlawful fragrance. It is rhetoric in the leader of
extempore prayer; studied inflexions in the conductor of liturgical
service; animal excitement, or sentimental pensiveness, or assent
which is merely vocal, among the worshippers. It is whatever
professes to be prayer, and is not that but a substitute. And
formalism is an empty censer.
But, however earnest and pure may seem to be the breathing of the
soul to God, something unworthy mingles with what is best in man.
The very altar of incense needs to have an atonement made for it
once in the year throughout their generations with the blood of the
sin-offering of atonement. The prayer of every heart which knows its
own secret will be this:
"Forgive what seemed my sin in
me,
What seemed my worth since I
began;
For merit lives from man to man
And not from man, O Lord, to
Thee."
THE CENSUS.
Exo 30:11-16.
Moses by Divine command was soon to number Israel, and thus to
lay the foundation for its organisation upon the march. A census was
not, therefore, supposed to be presumptuous or sinful in itself; it
was the vain-glory of David's census which was culpable.
But the honour of being numbered among the people of God should
awaken a sense of unworthiness. Men had reason to fear lest the
enrolment of such as they were in the host of God should produce a
pestilence to sweep out the unclean from among the righteous. At
least they must make some practical admission of their demerit. And
therefore every man of twenty years who passed over unto them that
were numbered (it is a picturesque glimpse that is here given into
the method of enrolment) should offer for his soul a ransom of half
a shekel after the shekel of the sanctuary. And because it was a
ransom, the tribute was the same for all; the poor might not bring
less, nor the rich more. Here was a grand assertion of the equality
of all souls in the eyes of God--a seed which long ages might
overlook, but which was sure to fructify in its appointed time.
For indeed the madness of modern levelling systems is only their
attempt to level down instead of up, their dream that absolute
equality can be obtained, or being obtained can be made a blessing,
by the envious demolition of all that is lofty, and not by all
together claiming the supreme elevation, the measure of the stature
of manhood in Jesus Christ.
It is not in any phalanst
of Fourier or Harmony Hall of Owen, that mankind will ever learn to
break a common bread and drink of a common cup; it is at the table
of a common Lord.
And so this first assertion of the equality of man was given to
those who all ate the same spiritual meat and drank the same
spiritual drink.
This half-shekel gradually became an annual impost, levied for
the great expenses of the Temple. "Thus Joash made a proclamation
throughout Judah and Jerusalem, to bring in for the Lord the tax
that Moses, the servant of God, laid upon Israel in the wilderness"
(2Ch 24:9).
And it was the claim for this impost, too rashly conceded by
Peter with regard to his Master, which led Jesus to distinguish
clearly between His own relation to God and that of others, even of
the chosen race.
He paid no ransom for His soul. He was a Son, in a sense in which
no other, even of the Jews, could claim to be so. Now, the kings of
the earth did not levy tribute from their sons; so that, if Christ
paid, it was not to fulfil a duty, but to avoid being an offence.
And God Himself would provide, directly and miraculously, what He
did not demand from Jesus. Therefore it was that, on this one
occasion and no other, Christ Who sought figs when hungry, and when
athirst asked water at alien hands, met His own personal requirement
by a miracle, as if to protest in deed, as in word, against any
burden from such an obligation as Peter's rashness had conceded.
And yet, with that marvellous condescension which shone most
brightly when He most asserted His prerogative, He admitted Peter
also to a share in this miraculous redemption-money, as He admits us
all to a share in His glory in the skies. Is it not He only Who can
redeem His brother, and give to God a ransom for him?
It is the silver thus levied which was used in the construction
of the sanctuary. All the other materials were free-will offerings;
but even as the entire tabernacle was based upon the ponderous
sockets into which the boards were fitted, made of the silver of
this tax, so do all our glad and willing services depend upon this
fundamental truth, that we are unworthy even to be reckoned His,
that we owe before we can bestow, that we are only allowed to offer
any gift because He is so merciful in His demand. Israel gladly
brought much more than was needed of all things precious. But first,
as an absolutely imperative ransom, God demanded from each soul the
half of three shillings and sevenpence.
THE LAVER.
Exo 30:17-21.
For the cleansing of various sacrifices, but especially for the
ceremonial washing of the priests, a laver of brass was to be made,
and placed upon a separate base, the more easily to be emptied and
replenished.
We have seen already that although its actual use preceded that
of the altar, yet the other stood in front of it, as if to assert,
to the very eyes of all men, that sacrifice precedes purification.
But the use of the laver was not by the man as man, but by the
priest as mediator. In his office he represented the absolute purity
of Christ. And therefore it was a capital offence to enter the
tabernacle or to burn a sacrifice without first having washed the
hands and feet. At his inauguration, the whole person of the priest
was bathed, and thenceforth he needed not save to remove the stains
of contact with the world.
When the laver was actually made, an interesting fact was
recorded about its materials: "He made the laver of brass, and the
base of it of brass, of the mirrors of the serving-women which
served at the door of the tent of meeting" (Exo 38:8). Thus their
instruments of personal adornment were applied to further a personal
preparation of a more solemn kind, like the ointment with which a
penitent woman anointed the feet of Jesus. There is a fitness which
ought to be considered in the direction of our gifts, not as a
matter of duty, but of good taste and charm. And thus also they
continually saw the monument of their self-sacrifice. There is an
innocent satisfaction, far indeed from vanity, when one looks at his
own work for God.
THE ANOINTING OIL AND THE
INCENSE.
Exo 30:22-38.
We have already seen the meaning of the anointing oil and of the
incense.
But we have further to remark that their ingredients were
accurately prescribed, that they were to be the best and rarest of
their kind, and that special skill was demanded in their
preparation.
Such was the natural dictate of reverence in preparing the
symbols of God's grace to man, and of man's appeal to God.
With the type of grace should be anointed the tent and the ark,
and the table of shewbread and the candlestick, with all their
implements, and the altar of incense, and the altar of burnt
sacrifice and the laver. All the import of every portion of the
Temple worship could be realized only by the outpouring of the
Spirit of grace.
It was added that this should be a holy anointing oil, not to be
made, much less used, for common purposes, on pain of death. The
same was enacted of the incense which should burn before Jehovah:
"according to the composition thereof ye shall not make for
yourselves; it shall be unto thee holy for the Lord: whosoever shall
make like unto that, to smell thereto, he shall be cut off from his
people."
And this was meant to teach reverence. One might urge that the
spices and frankincense and salt were not in themselves sacred:
there was no consecrating efficacy in their combination, no charm or
spell in the union of these, more than of any other drugs. Why,
then, should they be denied to culture? Why should her resources be
thus restricted? Does any one suppose that such arguments belong
peculiarly to the New Testament spirit, or that the saints of the
older dispensation had any superstitious views about these
ingredients? If it was through such notions that they abstained from
vulgarising its use, then they were on the way to paganism, through
a materialised worship.
But in truth they knew as well as we that gums were only gums,
just as they knew that the Most High dwelleth not in temples made
with hands. And yet they were bidden to reverence both the shrine
and the apparatus of His worship, for their own sakes, for the
solemnity and sobriety of their feelings, not because God would be a
loser if they did otherwise. And we may well ask ourselves, in these
latter days, whether the constant proposal to secularise religious
buildings, revenues, endowments and seasons does really indicate
greater religious freedom, or only greater freedom from religious
control.
And we may be sure that a light treatment of sacred subjects and
sacred words is a very dangerous symptom: it is not the words and
subjects alone that are being secularised, but also our own souls.
There is in our time a curious tendency among men of letters to
use holy things for a mere perfume, that literature may "smell
thereto."
A novelist has chosen for the title of a story "Just as I am." An
innocent and graceful poet has seen a smile,--
"'Twas such a smile,
Aaron's twelve jewels
seemed to mix
With the lamps of the
golden candlesticks."
Another is bolder, and sings of the war of love,--
"In the great battle when
the hosts are met
On Armageddon's plain, with
spears beset."
Another thinks of Mazzini as the
"Dear lord and leader, at
whose hand
The first days and the last
days stand,"
and again as he who
"Said, when all Time's sea
was foam,
'Let there be Rome,' and
there was Rome."
And Victor Hugo did not shrink from describing, and that with a
strange and scandalous ignorance of the original incidents, the
crucifixion by Louis Napoleon of the Christ of nations.
Now, Scripture is literature, besides being a great deal more;
and, as such, it is absurd to object to all allusions to it in other
literature. Yet the tendency of which these extracts are examples is
not merely toward allusion, but desecration of solemn and sacred
thoughts: it is the conversion of incense into perfumery.
There is another development of the same tendency, by no means
modern, noted by the prophet when he complains that the message of
God has become as the "very lovely song of one who hath a pleasant
voice and playeth well on an instrument." Wherever divine service is
only appreciated in so far as it is "well rendered," as rich music
or stately enunciation charm the ear, and the surroundings are