THE CITY WITHOUT A WALL.

Zechariah II. 1-5.

The first eight chapters of the book that bears the name of Zechariah forms practically one discourse. The remaining six chapters belong to a later period and are quite different in their literary character and spiritual temper; with these we have no present concern. The genuine sermon of Zechariah was delivered, at the close of the sixth century B.C., for the purpose of consoling the Jewish community in its darkness and distress, and strengthening the leaders in the efforts towards the rebuilding of the temple. These different chapters may be the substance of different discourses given at that time, but they are now one sermon, the aim of which is to make clear that God will sustain the leaders and bless the nation. The prophet may well have had in his mind the words of his great forerunner —

"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her,

That her warfare is accomplished, her iniquity is pardoned;

That she hath received of Jehovah's hand double for all her sins."1

He tells us that he received from the angel "good and comfortable words" (i. 13), and that his own commission was in this spirit, there came to him from Jehovah the command to cry out the gracious promise: "My cities through prosperity shall yet be spread abroad; and the Lord shall yet comfort Zion and shall yet choose Jerusalem" (i. 17). He is therefore, by the needs of the situation, and by the divine call, a son of consolation.

1. The Popular Presentation of Truth.

The prophet's sermon is full of illustrations or word-pictures; he speaks in parables. These allegories are rich in suggestion and were likely to quicken a deeper interest in his teaching. But these features of the discourse which were the most attractive then are precisely the parts which now require the most careful study and the fullest explanation. This man whose visions have become obscure) through the lapse of time and change of place, could have dispensed with oratorical adornments and rhetorical devices, for he was certainly a master of strong, clear speech. Note his beautiful promise of peace in viii. 4, and his fine ethical charter of the city in verses 16 and 17 of the same chapter. He did not use pictures because he was unable to make clear statements but because these illustrations quickened the imagination of his hearers and gave real satisfaction to his own soul. In these strange visionary forms promises can find expression that are too large for mere formal statement. The visions arrested attention and provoked thought at the time. Now they demand careful study so that we may enter into the mode of thought of a generation that has long passed away. The scientific study of the Bible, by which we seek to place ourselves in living relationship with the great prophet, is an attempt to wipe the dust off these ancient pictures so that the essential features may be more clearly seen. This is not a mere intellectual discipline, it is an exercise of imagination and an effort of faith. Surely it is one aspect of "the communion of saints" when we seek to pass over the barriers of time and space, language and nation, in order to appreciate and appropriate the great truth uttered by a noble preacher of a distant age. The popular preacher of twenty-five centuries ago demands and justifies scientific study to-day, and when we give that study in a reverent and sympathetic spirit we express our faith in some essential truths. First, that in the world of spirit as well as in that of nature the present grows out of the past, so that, in so far as we lay hold of God's growing revelation, we can claim real kinship with the saints and martyrs of earlier days. Second, these great men who wrestled faithfully with the problems of life centuries ago, did really prepare the way for us; they lifted their little life into the light of God's great kingdom and, in so doing, laid down, in a simple form, eternal principles. Third, this being so, it is possible for us without any allegorising or straining to find more in their visions than was present to themselves, because the principle that they have discovered demands, in our larger world, a larger application. Hence the abiding significance of this popular sermon.

It is surely appropriate that the hopes of Jerusalem should be expressed by the figure of a young man. The young man has his own outlook towards the future; it is no sufficient gospel for him to be told about "the good old times." Read that striking passage Ezra iii. 11-13, which tells of the strangely mingled sound of weeping and rejoicing when those come together, in one festival, whose outlook was so different; some clung with tears to the sacred past, and others exulted in the hope of a new future. The prophet has preached peace and prosperity; the people are inclined to believe him, but they say, Tell us more definitely the meaning of this thing; how big is Jerusalem going to be? The young are hopeful as to the future, their destiny is hidden in it, they long for clear-cut statements and well-defined programmes. It is fitting then that the prophet should symbolise the faith of Jerusalem by means of a young man, alert and eager, who goes forth to do some land-surveying and measure the boundaries of the new city. The figure expresses faith, an acceptance of the promise as to the future greatness of the city. But the faith, quick and energetic as it is, is not large enough, it is not going to be possible to lay out a definite plan of the city because of the abundance of life in it The pressure of living forces will be so great that the ancient barriers will be ignored; it will be a time of peace, so that the walls can be dispensed with and the presence of Jehovah will be a wall of fire, a protection and an inspiration to the loyal people. This is the prophet's reply to the demand for statistics. Here is a man who speaks with confidence in "the day of small things"; he looks forward with unconquerable hope to a larger, richer future for the city. The source of his confidence is clearly stated; it is that Jehovah will quicken the life within and guard against all destructive forces from without. It is because the divine life is the centre of his hope that we are justified in giving wider range and richer meaning to his teaching than at first. sight seems to be implied in his words.

2. A City Without a Wall.

Surely there is a great boldness of faith in the form in which he has chosen to express the promise. A city without a wall was unknown in his time, and it is only in recent times that by the creation of large countries with common sentiments and interests it has become a literal fact. For many centuries the very idea of a city was that of a walled space, the centre of a district, where men could flee for refuge when the enemy scoured the open country. Within these walls were found the sanctuary where men worshipped their God and the fortresses where they resisted the last attack of their foes. For a man to believe that God would be present with his people in such a living sense that the common material defences would be superseded was a supreme act of faith. There is splendid audacity in the thought, but we are not strong enough even now to accept it in all its fulness. It is an ideal which worldly common sense regards with scorn as the mere play of religious fancy.

It is possible to point out that there was little, if any, literal fulfilment of this great promise. The Jews continued to struggle with wonderful perseverance against the hard, prosaic difficulties of their situation. When, three centuries later, an effort was made to destroy their sacred books and crush their religious life, the men of living faith and stern piety rose in revolt and vindicated their right to national independence and religious freedom. This military glory and political independence thus attained lasted for a short time; it was followed by internal conflict and absorption within the Roman Empire. In the last great struggle with the Roman legions the inhabitants of Jerusalem fought with fanatical faith and frenzied zeal, but it was all in vain; there was no wall of fire to protect the city and devour the enemy. The Jew then became, in the fullest sense, "a man without a country"; since then he has wandered over the world and in many lands, has been the object of enmity or contempt. It appears, then, that the vision of the city without a wall is the dream of a religious enthusiast, and that the Jew has received as his portion not permanent peace but continual torment — a torment largely accounted for by the fact that he has clung with such unswerving loyalty to the peculiar forms of his own faith and law. Is this, however, a full account of this great matter? Is there not a permanent truth in the thought that the strength and security of a community is found in the faith that unites it to God and not in the wall that separates it from mankind? There were times when the Jews trusted in the wall rather than in their God. In those days a strong wall was a great defence for a well-placed city, and men were slow in learning that there is a nobler defence in an intelligent service of God and a sympathetic treatment of each other. In other words, it is very slowly that men have learned this great truth, grasped what we may call this great missionary idea, that the presence of God, in so far as it is truly and intelligently realised, tends to unite men rather than separate them; the divine fire which protects the righteous breaks down the hard material barriers which have served their purpose and had their day.

3. The Extension of the Idea.

Because the prophet was what we call "a spiritually minded man," because the chief thought for him was the presence of God and not the material greatness or numerical power of the city, we may justly credit him with the idea that the presence of God is a power that breaks down the old barriers so that the life of "the city of God" may stream forth upon the world. Translated into these terms we can see that the later history of Judaism and the growth of Christianity has been an advance along this line and so a fulfilment of the prophecy.

The Jews were forced out into the great world, and wherever they went carried their religion with them; and notwithstanding their hard legalism and exclusive temper the nobility and attraction of that religion manifested itself. The patriotic saintly men scattered through foreign lands thought with tenderness of Jerusalem as the city of their God and the home of their religion, but many of them began to realise that the true Zion is not the soil or the walls of an earthly city but the living truth, the glorious revelation from God. From this point of view, the prophecy received a very real fulfilment, Jerusalem did indeed break its barriers; the life inspired by prophets and regulated by lawgivers overspread the world, and became one of the most important factors in its religious life. Churches and sects may struggle, as they do to-day, for the soil of the ancient city, fighting with vulgar fanaticism for "the sacred places," but the city of God, "Jerusalem the golden," is otherwhere, it is found wherever men are fighting for true liberty, personal purity, and social righteousness.

Monopoly has been tried both in Judaism and Christianity; the attempt has been made to prove that the city of God is a walled city, a national or ecclesiastical enclosure. The effort to make all pious souls conform to one type of worship and creed has been a ghastly failure. It is one feature in the history of the Christian Church that fills us with shame and that justifies the unbeliever's sharpest criticism. Coercion and monopoly are the weapons not of faith but of unbelief. The proud Church that claims to have the exclusive right to "the keys" of the city is doing her best work where she has to live in the light and face honest competition. In that case, as elsewhere, exclusiveness means arrogance, and monopoly leads to rottenness. If any church could build a high wall and keep out all kinds of "modernism," all problems that come from the conflict of new ideas and foreign forces, the result would not be a city but a cemetery, a beautiful place for dead bones to rest, but a poor substitute for the real movement of healthy life. When men think that they have made a city of God of their own, with properly designed walls, so that they can confine and control the great revelation, dispensing it to men with a kindly, patronising air, then they stand before the world as the supreme representative of Christianity. This is all very grand in appearance and when represented in, noble forms of architecture and oratory, but the fact remains that it is only the small things that can be imprisoned in sectarian bonds, however beautiful these may be. God is everywhere, thought is free; the essential condition of liberty is the revelation of this Divine presence that gives meaning to the life of humanity.

Here we have gained a principle that is true everywhere and at all times, though the revelation of it has been painfully slow and gradual. Where God is, there and there only is real liberty. Such a presence of God is now possible anywhere, being dependent on the state of the soul not the situation of the soil. If this presence is really working in any city and nation, as it was in Jerusalem and among the Jews, a missionary idea will grow there even in unconscious forms, that is, there will be a conviction that there is something that the world needs and desires because it is something that comes from the Supreme God. The formal missionary organisation comes later; it must be preceded by a life that has in it a consciousness of Divinity and so carries with it a claim to universality. Within the walls of sect and nation the seed has been planted, but if it is really the tree of life whose "leaves are for the healing of the nations,"2 it will burst all narrow enclosures and claim kinship with the untrammelled creative forces.

In the personal life, too, this principle has its application. We marvel sometimes at the freedom of our Lord Jesus, at His determination to recognise no law or etiquette which would cut Him off from humanity. He does not engage in "foreign missionary work" in the formal sense, but He embodies in His life principles which lie behind all true mission work. For Him God is Father, men are brothers, and the city of God is neither in "this mountain" nor yet in Jerusalem,3 but where there is a spirit seeking the truth; His disciples may have sought to embody these ideas more fully in creeds and churches, but in Him they find a living expression. Because the fire of the Divine presence was fully realised in Him, He was the perfect citizen of "the city without a wall," and, being its perfect citizen. He was also its King.

1 Isa. xl. 1, 2.

2 Rev. xxii. 2.

3 John iv. 21.