THE JOY OF THE LORD.

Nehemiah viii. 9-18.

"All the people wept when they heard the words of the law." Was it for this mournful end that Ezra had studied the sacred law and guarded it through the long years of political unrest, until at length he was able to make it known with all the pomp and circumstance of a national festival? Evidently the leaders of the people had expected no such result. But, disappointing as it was, it might have been worse. The reading might have been listened to with indifference; or the great, stern law might have been rejected with execration, or scoffed at with incredulity. Nothing of the kind happened. There was no doubt as to the rightness of The Law, no reluctance to submit to its yoke, no disposition to ignore its requirements. This law had come with all the authority of the Persian government to sanction it; and yet it is evidently no fear of the magistrate, but their own convictions, their confirming consciences, that here influence the people and determine their attitude to it. Thus Ezra's labours were really honoured by the Jews, though their fruits were received so sorrowfully.

We must not suppose that the Jews of Ezra's day anticipated the ideas of St. Paul. It was not a Christian objection to law that troubled them; they did not complain of its externalism, its bondage, its formal requirements and minute details. To imagine that these features of The Law were regarded with disapproval by the first hearers of it is to credit them with an immense advance in thought beyond their leaders--Ezra, Nehemiah, and the Levites. It is clear that their grief arose simply from their perception of their own miserable imperfections in contrast to the lofty requirements of The Law, and in view of its sombre threats of punishment for disobedience. The discovery of a new ideal of conduct above that with which we have hitherto been satisfied naturally provokes painful stings of conscience, which the old salve, compounded of the comfortable little notions we once cherished, will not neutralise. In the new light of the higher truth we suddenly discover that the "robe of righteousness" in which we have been parading is but as "filthy rags." Then our once vaunted attainments become despicable in our own eyes. The eminence on which we have been standing so proudly is seen to be a wretched mole-hill compared with the awful snow-peak from which the clouds have just dispersed. Can we ever climb that? Goodness now seems to be hopelessly unattainable; yet never before was it so desirable, because never before did it shine with so rare and fascinating a lustre.

But, it may be objected, was not the religious and moral character of the teaching of the great prophets--of Hosea, Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah--larger and higher and more spiritual than the legalism of the Pentateuch? That may be granted; but it is not to the point here. The lofty prophetic teaching had never been accepted by the nation. The prophets had been voices crying in the wilderness. Their great spiritual thoughts had never been seriously followed except by a small group of devout souls. It was the Christian Church that first built on the foundation of the prophets. But in Ezra's day the Jews as a body frankly accepted The Law. Whether this were higher or lower than the ideal of prophetism does not affect the case. The significant fact is that is was higher than any ideal the people had hitherto adopted in practice. The perception of this fact was most distressing to them.

Nevertheless the Israelite leaders did not share the feeling of grief. In their eyes the sorrow of the Jews was a great mistake. It was even a wrong thing for them thus to distress themselves. Ezra loved The Law, and therefore it was to him a dreadful surprise to discover that the subject of his devoted studies was regarded so differently by his brethren. Nehemiah and the Levites shared his more cheerful view of the situation. Lyrics of this and subsequent ages bear testimony to the passionate devotion with which the sacred Torah was cherished by loyal disciples. The author of the hundred and nineteenth Psalm ransacks his vocabulary for varying phrases on which to ring the changes in praise of the law, the judgments, the statutes, the commandments of God. He cries:--

"I will delight in Thy statutes:

I will not forget Thy word.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

"Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold

Wondrous things out of Thy law.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

"Unless Thy law had been my delight,

I should have perished in mine affliction.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

"Great peace have they that love Thy law,

And they have none occasion of stumbling."

Moreover, the student of The Law to-day can perceive that its intention was beneficent. It maintained righteousness; and righteousness is the chief good. It regulated the mutual relations of men with regard to justice; it ordained purity; it contained many humane rules for the protection of men and even of animals; it condescended to most wholesome sanitary directions. Then it declared that he who kept its ordinances should live, not merely by reason of an arbitrary arrangement, but because it pointed out the natural and necessary way of life and health. The Divine Spirit that had guided the development of it had presided over something more inviting than the forging of fetters for a host of miserable slaves, something more useful than the creation of a tantalising exemplar that should be the despair of every copyist. Ezra and his fellow-leaders knew the intention of The Law. This was the ground of their joyous confidence in contemplation of it. They were among those who had been led by their personal religion into possession of "the secret of the Lord." They had acquainted themselves with Him, and therefore they were at peace. Their example teaches us that we must penetrate beyond the letter to the spirit of revelation if we would discover its hidden thoughts of love. When we do so even The Law will be found to enshrine an evangel. Not that these men of the olden times perceived the fanciful symbolism which many Christians have delighted to extract from the most mechanical details of the tabernacle ritual. Their eyes were fixed on the gracious Divine purpose of creating a holy nation--separate and pure--and The Law seemed to be the best instrument for accomplishing that purpose. Meanwhile its impracticability did not strike them, because they thought of the thing in itself rather than of the relation of men to it. Religious melancholy springs from habits of subjectivity. The joyous spirit is that which forgets self in the contemplation of the thoughts of God. It is our meditation of Him--not of self--that is sweet.

Of course this would have been unreasonable if it had totally ignored human conditions and their relation to the Divine. In that case Ezra and his companions would have been vain dreamers, and the sorrowing multitude people of common-sense perceptions. But we must remember that the new religious movement was inspired by faith. It is faith that bridges the vast chasm between the real and the ideal. God had given The Law in lovingkindness and tender mercy. Then God would make the attainment of His will revealed in it possible. The part of brave and humble men was to look away from themselves to the revelation of God's thought concerning them with grateful admiration of its glorious perfection.

While considerations of this sort would make it possible for the leaders to regard The Law in a very different spirit from that manifested by the rest of the Jews, other reflections led them to go further and check the outburst of grief as both unseemly and hurtful.

It was unseemly, because it was marring the beauty of a great festival. The Jews were to stay their grief seeing that the day was holy unto the Lord. 230 This was as much as to say that sorrow was defiling. The world had to wait for the religion of the cross reveal to it the sanctity of sorrow. Undoubtedly the Jewish festivals were joyous celebrations. It is the greatest mistake to represent the religion of the Old Testament as a gloomy cult overshadowed by the thunder-clouds of Sinai. On the contrary, its greatest offices were celebrated with music, dancing, and feasting. The high day was a holiday, sunny and mirthful. It would be a pity to spoil such an occasion with unseasonable lamentations. But Nehemiah and Ezra must have had a deeper thought than this in their deprecation of grief at the festival. To allow such behaviour is to entertain unworthy feelings towards God. A day sacred to the Lord is a day in which His presence is especially felt. To draw near to God with no other feelings than emotions of fear and grief is to misapprehend His nature and His disposition towards His people. Worship should be inspired with the gladness of grateful hearts praising God, because otherwise it would discredit His goodness.

This leads to a thought of wider range and still more profound significance, a thought that flashes out of the sacred page like a brilliant gem, a thought so rich and glad and bountiful that it speaks for its own inspiration as one of the great Divine ideas of Scripture--"The joy of the Lord is your strength." Though the unseemliness of mourning on a feast day was the first and most obvious consideration urged by the Jewish leaders in their expostulation with the distressed multitude, the real justification for their rebukes and exhortations is to be found in the magnificent spiritual idea that they here give expression to. In view of such a conviction as they now gladly declare they would regard the lamentation of the Jews as more than unseemly, as positively hurtful and even wrong.

By the expression "the joy of the Lord" it seems clear that Nehemiah and his associates meant a joy which may be experienced by men through their fellowship with God. The phrase could be used for the gladness of God Himself; as we speak of the righteousness of God or the love of God, so we might speak of His joy in reference to His own infinite life and consciousness. But in the case before us the drift of the passage directs our thoughts to the moods and feelings of men. The Jews are giving way to grief, and they are rebuked for so doing and encouraged to rejoice. In this situation some thoughts favourable to joy on their part are naturally suitable. Accordingly they are called to enter into a pure and lofty gladness in which they are assured they will find their strength.

This "joy of the Lord," then, is the joy that springs up in our hearts by means of our relation to God. It is a God-given gladness, and it is found in communion with God. Nevertheless the other "joy of the Lord" is not to be left out of account when we think of the gladness which comes to us from God, for the highest joy is possible to us just because it is first experienced by God. There could be no joy in communion with a morose divinity. The service of Moloch must have been a terror, a perfect agony to his most loyal devotees. The feelings of a worshipper will always be reflections from what he thinks he perceives in the countenance of his god. They will be gloomy if the god is a sombre personage, and cheerful if he is a glad being. Now the revelation of God in the Bible is the unveiling with growing clearness of a countenance of unspeakable love and beauty and gladness. He is made known to us as "the blessed God"--the happy God. Then the joy of His children is the overflow of His own deep gladness streaming down to them. This is the "joy in the presence of the angels" which, springing from the great heart of God, makes the happiness of returning penitents, so that they share in their Father's delight, as the prodigal shares in the home festivities when the fatted calf is killed. This same communication of gladness is seen in the life of our Lord, not only during those early sunny days in Galilee when His ministry opened under a cloudless sky, but even amid the darkness of the last hours at Jerusalem, for in His final discourse Jesus prayed that His joy might be in His disciples in order that their joy might be full. A more generous perception of this truth would make religion like sunshine and music, like the blooming of spring flowers and the outburst of woodland melody about the path of the Christian pilgrim. It is clear that Jesus Christ expected this to be the case since He commenced His teaching with the word "Blessed." St. Paul, too, saw the same possibility, as his repeated encouragements to "Rejoice" bear witness. Religion may be compared to one of those Italian city churches which are left outwardly bare and gloomy, while within they are replete with treasures of art. We must cross the threshold, push aside the heavy curtain, and tread the sacred pavement, if we would see the beauty of sculptured column and mural fresco and jewelled altar-piece. Just in proportion as we draw near to God shall we behold the joy and love that ever dwell in Him, till the vision of these wonders kindles our love and gladness.

Now the great idea that is here suggested to us connects this Divine joy with strength--the joy is an inspiration of energy. By the nature of things joy is exhilarating, while pain is depressing. Physiologists recognise it as a law of animal organisms that happiness is a nerve tonic. It would seem that the same law obtains in spiritual experience. On the other hand, nothing is more certain than that there are enervating pleasures, and that the free indulgence in pleasure generally weakens the character; with this goes the equally certain truth that men may be braced by suffering, that the east wind of adversity may be a real stimulant. How shall we reconcile these contradictory positions? Clearly there are different kinds and grades of delight, and different ways of taking and using every form of gladness. Pure hedonism cannot but be a weak system of life. It is the Spartan, not the Sybarite, who is capable of heroic deeds. Even Epicurus, whose name has been abused to shelter low pleasure-seeking, perceived, as clearly as "The Preacher," the melancholy truth that the life that is given over to the satisfaction of personal desires is but "vanity of vanities." The joy that exhilarates is not sought as a final goal. It comes in by the way when we are pursuing some objective end. Then this purest joy is as far above the pleasure of the self-indulgent as heaven is above hell. It may even be found side by side with bodily pain, as when martyrs exult in their flames, or when stricken souls in more prosaic circumstances awake to the wonderful perception of a rare Divine gladness. It is this joy that gives strength. There is enthusiasm in it. Such a joy not being an end in itself is a means to a great practical end. God's glad children are strong to do and bear His will, strong in their very gladness.

This was good news to the Jews, outwardly but a feeble flock and a prey to the ravening wolves from neighbouring lands. They had recovered hope after building their walls; but these hastily constructed fortifications did not afford them their most secure stronghold. Their refuge was God. They carried bows and spears and swords; but the strength with which they wielded these weapons consisted in the enthusiasm of a Divine gladness--not the orgiastic fury of the heathen, but the deep, strong joy of men who knew the secret of their Lord, who possessed what Wordsworth calls "inward glee." This joy was essentially a moral strength. It bestowed the power wherewith to keep the law. Here was the answer to the discouragement of the people in their dawning perception of the lofty requirements of God's holy will. The Christian can best find energy for service, as well as the calm strength of patience, in that still richer Divine gladness which is poured into his heart by the grace of Christ. It is not only unfortunate for anybody to be a mournful Christian; it is dangerous, hurtful, even wrong. Therefore the gloomy servant of God is to be rebuked for missing the Divine gladness. Seeing that the source of it is in God, and not in the Christian himself, it is attainable and possible to the most sorrowful. He who has found this "pearl of great price" can afford to miss much else in life and yet go on his way rejoicing.

It was natural that the Jews should have been encouraged to give expression to the Divine joy at a great festival. The final harvest-home of the year, the merry celebration of the vintage, was then due. No Jewish feast was more cheerful than this, which expressed gratitude for "wine that maketh glad the heart of man." The superiority of Judaism over heathenism is seen in the tremendous contrast between the simple gaiety of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles and the gross debauchery of the Bacchanalian orgies which disgraced a similar occasion in the pagan world. It is to our shame in modern Christendom that we dare not imitate the Jews here, knowing too well that if we tried to do so we should only sink to the heathen level. Our Feast of Tabernacles would certainly become a Feast of Bacchus, bestial and wicked. Happily the Jews did not feel the Teutonic danger of intemperance. Their festival recognised the Divine bounty in nature, in its richest, ripest autumn fruitfulness, which was like the smile of God breaking out through His works to cheer His children. Bivouacking in greenwood bowers, the Jews did their best to return to the life of nature and share its autumn gladness. The chronicler informs us that since the days of Joshua the Jews had never observed the feast as they did now--never with such great gladness and never so truly after the directions of their law. Although the actual words he gives as from The Law 231 are not to be found in the Pentateuch, they sum up the regulations of that work. This then is the first application of The Law which the people have received with so much distress. It ordains a glad festival. So much brighter is religion when it is understood and practised than when it is only contemplated from afar! Now the reading of The Law can go on day by day, and be received with joy.

Finally, like the Christians who collected food and money at the Agapé for their poorer brethren and for the martyrs in prison, the Jews were to "send portions" to the needy. 232 The rejoicing was not to be selfish; it was to stimulate practical kindness. Here was its safeguard. We shrink from accepting joy too freely lest it should be followed by some terrible Nemesis; but if, instead of gloating over it in secret, selfishly and greedily, we use it as a talent, and endeavour to lessen the sorrows of others by inviting them to share it, the heathenish dread is groundless. He who is doing his utmost to help his brother may dare to be very happy.  

[230] Neh. viii. 9.

[231] Neh. viii. 14, 15

[232] Neh. viii. 12.