THE KINGDOM THAT SURVIVES THE SHAKING OF THE WORLD.

Haggai II. 6-8; Hebrews XII. 26, 27.

When we place these two passages side by side, whose origin is separated by five centuries of time, we are reminded of the fact that within the Bible itself we have varied stages of thought. We constantly speak of "a progressive revelation" (Heb. i. 1), but we need to realise more fully what this means in the details of the actual thought and life. In other words, we need to remember that the Bible is not "a book" in the narrow sense of that word but a literature in the full sense of the term. We have a collection of books that came into existence under varied circumstances and at widely separated periods of time; consequently, in that which is to us now "the volume of the book,"1 we have original statements, and then the later interpretations and transformations.2 A striking word is taken from the past, lifted into a larger atmosphere, and given a nobler meaning. This is true even within the Old Testament itself, and this statement is more richly illustrated in the New Testament, where the specific claim is made that the New is not a contradiction of, but an enlargement and fulfilment of, the Old. The Old Testament is rightly called "a prophetic book," and is said to contain "the missionary idea" because there is so much in it that refuses to be bound down to any mere local significance. Its noble inconsistencies show the struggle of the truth to reach forth into the common life of humanity.

1. A Pathetic Note.

This is seen in the phrase "yet once, it is a little while" or "yet once more"; if we consider it carefully and in a sympathetic spirit we cannot fail to find in it a reflection of human life in its varied moods. We have here the mightiest power that stirs the human spirit, the power of faith, the faith that gains the victory over the world. But is there not in it also the human weakness that craves for finality and longs to see the problem of the world-process solved by one sudden mighty stroke? This man knew of great shakings in the not distant past: the fall of Nineveh, the defeat of Egypt, the destruction of Jerusalem, the conquest of Babylon. Through all these convulsions his nation had lived and suffered. Those now left in Jerusalem are a small remnant, a few struggling, discouraged patriots, but in this day of small things they still believed that God had brought them through these terrible shakings in order to prepare them for a noble future. This was a splendid faith, and in a real sense history has justified it. We who have the larger view are not necessarily greater men; the prophet, in his own way, rose above the world, while we may be allowing it to crush us. He looked for one more great shaking, when this struggling Jerusalem would become the centre of the world, when admiring nations, overawed by Jehovah's power, would bring into this sanctuary the world's precious things, the silver and the gold; then would the temple abide for evermore in strength, splendour, and attractiveness.3 These external gifts would be a symbol of a rich community of life.

This prophecy did receive a certain measure of literal fulfilment; it is not pure fancy but rests on sober fact. The judgment that we have now concerning the narrowness and limitation of the prophet's outlook must not blind us to the truth and value of his statement. The building of that temple, the piety and loyalty of that small community, was a thing of significance for the world. That is not a sectarian verdict; it is based upon a large review of those varied and subtle forces that have built up the complex fabric of modern states and churches. The Jews clung with stubborn determination to the task of restoring their city and building their temple until this became the centre of political and religious life, a rallying point for patriotic Israelites scattered throughout the world. The result was that the temple, which was a bank as well as a church, received contributions from the faithful to such an extent that, once more, it became a rich storehouse of worldly wealth. Even in this stage of the history we learn that the gold, silver, and "desirable things" are not the real wealth of the Church. These things encouraged the worldly spirit among the priests and excited greed among foreigners, so that in the second century B.C., Syrian kings and generals came to Jerusalem not to worship4 but for the express purpose of robbing the temple. The silver and gold did not save the Church but rather helped forward its ruin. The Syrian tyrant could steal the money but he could not destroy the faith. The living ideas of trust in God and loyalty to the Law were more powerful than gold or the sword. The faith proved itself to be indestructible, the material forces, here as elsewhere, crumbled to decay. The same fact is illustrated by the life that gathered round the temple in still later time, when our Lord drove out the money-changers, and declared that the house of prayer had been transformed into a den of thieves.5 The vision of material splendour had been to some extent fulfilled, but the prophetic ideal was realised not in the majesty of the temple but in the life of the lowly Nazarene. The wealth of the temple and the fanatical reverence that men had for it availed little in the day of judgment when the might of Rome was concentrated on the doomed city. But, after all, how little was lost in the great catastrophe that seemed to so many to be the end of the world. The religion had learned to live without the temple; the faith was free to go forth and assume larger and nobler forms.

2. A Larger Interpretation of the Text.

The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews belongs to this later time, when the nations of that ancient world had been drawn nearer together and the shaking must be more complex in character. The temple had passed through its last great tragedy and the evangelists of the Cross were proclaiming their great message. This writer claims that Christianity is heir to all that was really of permanent value in the older system. That is regarded as preparatory, symbolic, and temporary; those who, by faith, have grasped the unseen ideas, can live without those visible forms which in their day were rich in prophetic power. From this point of view he feels justified in giving a larger interpretation to the ancient word. To him the shaking does not mean the material enrichment of the temple. His vision is not the picture of a restored and glorified temple with its doors ever open to receive the treasures of the world. The purpose of the shaking is that the external temporary things may be cast off and the abiding truth more clearly revealed. There are things which, by their very nature, cannot be shaken, and the man who lays hold of them has a kingdom that cannot be moved. This man, no doubt, helped many timid wavering souls, and he still cheers and inspires us by the boldness of his faith. Probably he also had his moments of doubt; it was certainly not without a struggle that he reached this lofty height and was able, in a world of change, to look out with calm confidence and claim to have received a kingdom that cannot be moved. In these resdess days we may be disposed to envy him his simple faith. But when we look a little closer we may see that it is not a simple faith in any shallow sense; it is a faith that possesses high, intellectual qualities, it seeks to reinterpret history and to face all the new problems in the light of knowledge that is inspired but not enslaved by the great teachings of the past.6

We talk much in our time about living in a time of change when faith is tested by the demands of a larger view of the world. But it is well to remember that even in this regard no strange thing has happened to us; the prophets of the earlier ages had a similar experience. "How can we sing the Lord's song in this foreign land?" is not a new question; it has often been wrung from the hearts of men who wished to reconcile the past and the present, who desired in new circumstances to be loyal to the old truth. We know that Jews and Christians have felt this most keenly, in the living periods of their history, because, while they clung to a sacred past, they had a faith that looked forward for still richer revelations of the divine kingdom. There are in such crises three courses open to the individual believer. These three pathways were followed by men in the Babylonian exile in essentially the same spirit as men follow them to-day in Judaism or Christianity, (i) A man may lose his theology or his faith or both. He may fall away from his trust in God and declare that life has become meaningless. Men who cannot receive the new light feel that the change is all loss; God has gone away with the ancient form, and for them there is no new vision. (2) Others cling to their old faith and cherish a still deeper loyalty for the forms of the past. That is surely better than the utter loss of faith; men who feel that for them God is in the traditional form do well to cling to that sacred thing. No form of revelation is perfect, and it is not easy to acknowledge that the shrine at which we have worshipped may be broken and cast away without loss to the world. In regard to all these controversies we all do well to cultivate a kindly spirit towards those who are at different stages of the spiritual movement. (3) The still higher way is that which has been trodden by the real leaders of the church and humanity. These "men of light and leading" have found that the new form in which God gave the truth to them was a larger, more glorious, form of the old faith; after the pain of the struggle was over they saw clearly that they had not suffered loss; they refused to be called traitors to the old religion; the way that men called "heresy" was a way of worship and of service that led them more directly to the throne of God. This is a task that awaits us in every "transitional period"; we must accept all new facts as fresh revelations of God's power and wisdom, and try to show that by these new visions the principles of the older faith stand out in larger form and clearer light.

3. The Kingdom that cannot be Moved.

It is the very essence of faith to maintain that there is a kingdom that cannot be moved, that there are spiritual treasures which must survive all the fierce convulsions that shake the world. This attitude of mind is common to the simple-minded prophet who toiled for the restoration of the temple, and to the philosophic theologian who explains to us why we can dispense with all temples. Their faith, at the heart of it, is essentially the same, only the form is different. To Haggai the temple is central and immovable; the shakings of the world's kingdom can only have the effect of enriching God's sanctuary. Those of us who believe in an eternal God and an abiding kingdom can say the same thing, but for us it means something different. It means that the God of the temple is the centre of our life, and hence religion is no longer bound to a particular temple. It means that the truth cannot be destroyed, and what seems to be loss is really enlargement and enrichment It means, further, that there is running through history "an increasing purpose" which tends to break down barriers and give a real unity to humanity by the spreading of the idea of one God. To the ancient prophets this unity was to be brought about by the world's recognition of the true God in Israel. The temple was to be glorified by becoming a religious centre not simply for Israelite patriots and pilgrims but in some sense for the whole world.7 The ideal of one God and of human brotherhood remains, but it is no longer monopolised by one city or fastened to one sanctuary. It is the work of an enlightened Christianity to show that these ideas do not evaporate, that these truths do not lose their power when they are cut clear away from tribal and sectarian forms. We must prove that these large statements concerning the purity and freedom of Christian ideas are not philosophical abstractions but our very life. True, to live at this higher altitude demands a stronger faith, but for many of us it must be this faith or none, the old narrow tribal views can no longer live in harmony with the only conception of God that is possible — a God of all time and the whole world.

If any vindication were needed for the attempt to find the principle in an ancient saying and give it a wider application, we can find it within the pages of the Bible itself. The prophet Haggai, in his own way, believed that no shaking can destroy the kingdom of God on earth, that the God of Israel rules the world and makes the changes in the political sphere work out the enrichment of his Church. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews believes the same thing but presents it in a form that reflects a broader philosophy of religion. When we discuss the question of "gain and loss," and when the old truth has been so transformed that we cry out "What is left?" we need to fall back upon the essential Christian belief that there is a Kingdom that cannot be moved, and that the Lord of this Kingdom is the living Christ. We must recognise not only that "the kingdom" can no longer be exclusively identified with Jerusalem or Rome but also that it is larger than any or all ecclesiastical organisations. From this point of view there can be no real "loss"; there may be loss to individuals or particular communities through their failure to assimilate new truth or rise to larger opportunity, but because God is behind it the larger movement must be a gain to humanity.

We are now beginning to see that the Bible has grown larger and richer under the severe searching study that earnest scholars have devoted to it during many generations. It tells more clearly than ever the story of a growing revelation of God meant for humanity and not merely for one race. Even when its life circled largely round one small city there were truths struggling for expression that cried out for the larger city of God. Science has revealed to us a larger world in which there can be only one God in whom "we live and move and have our being." One living movement everywhere, one law ruling through all spheres; this is the watchword of the higher thought of our time. It puts to shame all mere local religions and sectarian monopolies. It cannot be content with a God who merely created some past things, it calls for a creed that shall embrace the whole life of the world. The social problem presses hard, it taxes the power of the Church. It sometimes makes us feel that we are helpless in the face of forces that cannot easily be controlled and guided. Is this failure and death or is it the growing pain of a new and larger life? No one city can contain, no one church can guide, this restless movement of humanity; by no small formula can this complex situation be met. The rallying point to-day is not in a particular city or visible temple but round a Person; we turn to One in whom great movements of the past have centred and from whom new impulse springs. The faith that He quickens in us gives us courage to believe that there really is "a kingdom that cannot he moved," an eternal city of truth and righteousness whose builder and maker is God.8

1 Ps. xl. 7; Heb. x. 7.

2 2 Sam. vii. 8-16; Isa. It. 3, 4.

3 Cf. p. 78.

4 Acts viii. 27.

5 Isa. Ivi. 7 5 Matt. xxi. 13.

6 See Chapter 1.

7 See Chapter 2.

8 Heb. xi. 10.