CHAPTER III: THE MINISTRY IN GALILEE
5. THE PARABLES OF THE KINGDOM
HOME | Contents | Chapter III: < PART IV | PART V: 85.Nature and purpose of teaching by parables | 84,86.The parable of the sower | 88.The parable of the seed that multiplies and ripens by itself in the course of time | 89,93.The parable of the cockle in the cornfield | 90.The parable of the grain of mustard seed | 91.The parable of the leaven | 94-95, 92, 96.The parables of the treasure, the pearl, and the fishing-net. Conclusion | 87.The light that will go on increasing | PART VI >.
Nature and purpose of teaching by parables (85).
Luke viii.9-10; Mark iv.10-12; Matthew xiii.10-15.
Just as St. Matthew has set before us in the comparatively long Sermon on
the Mount what we have called the programme of Jesus, so also does the same
evangelist devote a mmplete chapter to a series of parables about the kingdom
of God.
As in the former case, so here too we may conclude lliat he has
probably grouped in one place things spoken in different circumstances;
but St. Mark is at one with him in picturing for us the very homely scene of
Jesus preaching by
the lakeside about the kingdom of God.
Again, St. Matthew agrees with St. Mark
and St. Luke concerning the time at which this important teaching began
in the ministry of Jesus.
At the beginning of their gospels the three evangelists state the theme of
the Master's teaching to be the coming of the kingdom or reign of God.
It
was precisely for this that He had been sent. [Luke iv.43.]
At Nazareth He had announced
that in His person was inaugurated the time of grace.
He had invited a few
Galilaeans to join in His work.
In their presence He had called a large number
of people to the practice of perfection, and had admitted into His family
all who heard His words and resolved to put them into practice.
That was
what He meant by the kingdom or reign of God,
and it had been made clear
enough to all when,
speaking once more about the relation His own work bore
to the prophecies spoken before Him,
He declared that the least in the kingdom
of God ranked higher than the greatest of the prophets.
And now the moment
had come for a fuller explanation of this kingdom of God in which so many
had placed their hopes.
He therefore devotes a day to the teaching of parables
concerning the kingdom of God.
But there is something here which seems strange to us,
namely, that what we
gather from this new mode of teaching is less clear than what we have already
learnt.
If we wish to form a just idea of the perfection that constitutes the
kingdom of God
it is better to meditate on the Sermon on the Mount
than upon
the parables which are expressly devoted to that subject.
What is the reason
of this surprising phenomenon?
Is it possible that, after having taught openly
for a time,
Jesus decided to clothe His thoughts in a more obscure form?
Did
He choose the parable in order to veil His meaning and thus punish a nation
which had shown no disposition to follow Him?
This is a celebrated question
about which the greatest minds disagree,
and before approaching it we must
first discuss the literary character of the parable.
[Cf. Revue Biblique, 1909: La parabole en dehors
de l'évangile, p. 198 ff. and p. 342 ff.]
As the parables are among the very gems of the Gospel
we must not be surprised
to find hostile critics denying to Jesus the authorship of some of the most
beautiful and significant among them.
In order to give their contention some
rational basis in fact these critics insist on the essential distinction between
parable and allegory.
But, they maintain, all the parables that we know for
certain to have been
uttered by Jesus belong to the class of similes or comparisons and not to that
of the allegory. [Cf. Loisy Études évangeliques,
p. 37.]
They add-and this is perfectly true-that a parable is clear
in its meaning, while an allegory is obscure.
Now it is a fact that the parable and the allegory are two different figures
of speech which we must distinguish, us the Greek writers distinguished them
with their very precise analysis.
Allegory is composed of a series of metaphors.
If we say: 'He fought like a lion,' that is a simile;
if we say: 'A lion in the battle, he leapt upon his prey,'
that is a metaphor,
or rather, as it stands, it is a group of two metaphors and consequently the
beginning of an allegory.
In order to understand an allegory properly we need
a key;
for instance, we must know here that the lion stands for Alexander
the Great and the prey for Darius Codomannus.
And if the allegory be prolonged
we may be at a loss to know what each metaphor represents:
hence this style
of writing is not uncommonly obscure.
The allegory is a series of metaphors, each one of the metaphorical terms
being representative of some further reality.
The parable is nothing more than
a comparison between two different situations, and the terms in which the parable
is expressed are used to describe some well-known truth or to tell a story;
we are not to take them singly and look for some corresponding term in the
truth or situation which the parable is meant to elucidate.
There was no question
among the Greeks that the purpose of the parable was to enlighten.
Greece was
the land of clear ideas.
Thus parable lies at the basis of all Socratic reasoning,
for Socrates had the habit of using homely examples in order to throw the light
of current ideas upon questions that were obscure.
Aristotle, too, spoke of
the parable and classified it with his customary accuracy.
He gives the following
example:
Ought magistrates to be chosen by lot?
No, for that would be as
foolish as to choose a pilot by lot;
in either case we require a man competent
for the office.
Sometimes the simile is continued until it takes the form of
a little fable,
but that does not change the essential nature of the parable.
Thus we have the story of the horse which, in order to have his revenge upon
a stag, invites a man to mount his back:
the horse may have his revenge, but
at the price of his liberty.
Beware then, when looking
for a defender, lest you find a master.
Unless the situation chosen in order
to solve the obscure question be clear in itself and fit the case, the parable
is a failure.
But the parables of Jesus are models in this respect;
they
ought not then to be obscure.
Such is what is strictly required by literary rules;
but when it is a question
of literary taste these rules are not always obeyed.
The rhetoricians, indeed,
went so far as to condemn them, and had the good taste to acknowledge the beauty
of a mixed style which blended simile or parable with allegory and metaphor.
[Illud vero longe speclosissimum genus orationis, in
quo trium permixta est gratia, similitudinis, allegoric, translationis.
(Quintilian, Instit. orat., VIII, vi, 48.)]
It is evident, then, that the critics are ill-informed when they maintain
that the combination of fable and allegory is simply to be classed with the
monstrosities of mythology and imagination.
[Cf. Jülicher, Die
Gleichnisse Jesu, I, 107.]
Moreover, even when the pure
parable is deliberately used as a method of teaching, it may sometimes, owing
to the nature of the subject chosen, be incapable by itself of rendering the
lesson as clear as the teacher desires.
Generally speaking, the clarity aimed at by the Greeks concerned truths attainable
by human reason.
As soon as reason has succeeded in proving the existence of
God it confesses that it has reached a sphere into which it cannot enter.
Even
the most courageous and determined of the Greek rationalists, Aristotle, here
laid down his arms:
'Unbegotten and incorruptible beings are doubtless of great worth and divine, but they are the things of which we know the least ... but, without any doubt, as they are of such worth, even a slight acquaintance with them is more pleasing than the knowledge of the things by which we are surrounded, just as it is better to see the smallest part of some object that we love than to have full knowledge of many other beings.
Nevertheless, the nearness of the things surrounding us and their natural kinship with us are advantages which compensate us for our lack of knowledge of divine things.'
[De Partibus Animalium, I, 5, from Bréhier's translation; cf. his Histoire de la Philosophic, I, p. 324.]
The Jews would by no means have
consented to renounce the knowledge of things divine as the condition of obtaining
clarity of ideas.
To their mind divine revelation was gradually dissipating
some of the darkness that will always envelop us here below.
The way in which that teaching was communicated was, and had to be, by analogy
with created things:
that is to say, God was made known by His works.
But this mode is altogether inadequate, as is clear when we consider the
infinite abyss that lies between the two terms of the comparison, the Creator
and the creature.
And this was more particularly the case where the Semites
were concerned, for they, unlike the Greeks, did not attach supreme importance
to the acquisition of clear and well-defined ideas.
Though the Semitic mind
turned as if by instinct to those liigher regions of being that Aristotle glimpsed
but neglected, yet it had not learned how to be exact in thinking of matters
less difficult of understanding.
It rather preferred a certain deliberate obscurity
which challenges the enquirer to a more careful investigation, and which enables
the teacher to display a subtle genius in presenting the matter under an enigmatic
form, a thing of profit to the disciple who arrives at understanding by dint
of reflection or by asking his master for an explanation of the enigma.
The parables of Jesus have none of this subtlety:
they draw attention only
to their object,
not to the literary skill of the preacher;
they have as much
clarity as their subject allows of, but sometimes they are mingled with allegories.
Have we any right to object if Jesus uses the parable as it was used by His
own fellow-countrymen, if He refuses to tie Himself down to a theoretical
distinction of literary forms established by the Greeks but which they themselves
did not always observe?
If several of the Fathers and ancient commentators
have been inclined to see far too many allegories in the parables of Jesus,
yet St. Chrysostom clearly perceived their special character, and we must follow
his example.
When Jesus, however, propounded parables to the Pharisees in order
to give them to understand what chastisements they were drawing down
upon themselves by their implacable hostility, the simile became an
allegory, and an allegory that was clear to everyone:
for the terms of the allegory stood for people who were well known, people
who were present.
Moreover, as Jesus was not infrequently IIimself personally
concerned, as representative of the kingdom of God, in the lesson which He
strove to bring home to His hearers by means of the parables that He propounded,
allegory inevitably crept in, even into the parables, on account of His own
entry on the scene.
But
it is not this mixture of allegory with parable that caused the parable to
be obscure;
on the contrary, it would rather seem to render the parable
more striking by these allusions to a person well known to the hearers.
Why, then, do the evangelists seem to characterize the whole of this parabolic
teaching as obscure, and intentionally obscure? This assertion of theirs is
indeed harder to understand than the parables themselves, an enigma that we
must proceed to examine.
What makes it still more difficult to understand is
the fact that this notion of the evangelists is put forward as the exegesis
of a passage from Isaias, himself a very difficult author to understand.
However,
it all becomes clear enough provided that we interpret words spoken in a Semitic
language according to the laws governing the spirit of that language.
Now it
is characteristic of Semitic speech to let its meaning spring out like a flash
of light from the clashing together of ideas which are expressed in a very
positive and unconditional form, without any toning down, the ideas being set
in the most vivid contrast one to the other.
In the time of Isaias, as in the
time of Jesus, God willed to save His people, as is shown by the fact that
He raised up a preacher and charged him to call the people to repentance, bidding
him to call them with words that are impassioned, full of tenderness, yet at
the same time threatening, so that every means might be used which would obtain
the result desired, namely the people's conversion.
That this was God's purpose
is evident:
it follows from the very language He employs, which is clear,
urgent, compelling the Israelites to make their choice.
That choice, however,
is foreseen, and it will drag them to destruction.
Go, then, said the Lord
to His envoy, with the angry bitterness of love doomed to disappointment:
go and speak to them that they may harden their hearts and may not be pardoned!
A strange remark, but one of touching beauty!
Now what happened in the time
of Isaias happened also in the time of Jesus.
The evangelists could not help
seeing it, and they knew quite well that it was not God's fault.
We have to
try to enter their thoughts and follow their train of ideas.
It is true, however,
that as regards the parables of the kingdom of God, Jesus abstained, in the
interests of the crowd, from making His doctrine perfectly clear.
It was a
subject that could not be approached directly,
so great was
the danger of coming into conflict with preconceived and stubbornly-held ideas.
The rabbis had kept their teaching about the kingdom of God within moderate
bounds owing to their study of the Scriptures, but it needed correction all
the same. [Cf. Le Messianisme, p. 148 ff.]
But the common people, under the influence of more adventurous
spirits, often looked on the kingdom of God as a sensational intervention
of the Lord through the agency of His Messiah, an intervention that was to
bring about the political deliverance of Israel and the chastisement other
enemies. [Ibid., p. 116 ff.
This they awaited with a blind confidence calculated to paralyse
every effort to establish the true kingdom of God by the fulfilling of His
will.
These false ideas, which were strengthened by the many apocalyptic
writings of the time, made it easier for them to accept the Sermon on the
Mount (when they accepted the kingdom of God without realizing it as such)
than to substitute the true notion of what the kingdom of God was to be in
place of their own false conception of it.
The rabbis, be it said to their
honour, never ceased from preaching the necessity of living righteously in
order to merit the reward of the world to come, of that world above, which
was to follow the resurrection.
When Jesus demanded a righteousness more
perfect than theirs in order to fulfil the true spirit of the Law, He ran
no risk of shocking any men of good will who were longing for something new
and better.
They would think of it doubtless as some new way of manifesting
repentance, some special effort to be made in expectation of the joys of
the kingdom of God.
A certain danger of misunderstanding arose from the use of this expression,
the kingdom of God.
Whether it was through an excessive preoccupation with
the words of the expression, or through the concentration of all hopes on the
Messiah, people entertained false dreams about the way in which God was to
intervene on behalf of Israel.
It was on this account that their notion of
the kingdom of God needed to be changed.
Instead of looking for an invincible
leader who was to lead the nation to victory, they had to lay hold of a teaching
which was to have effect for all mankind and not merely for the Jewish nation.
The beginnings of this teaching were to be unpretentious, its success was to
be slow, and yet for its sake men had to be ready to sacrifice all. Was the
kingdom of God, then, to be so
insignificant at the start?
But Jesus determined to give an answer to general
expectations, to utter the fateful word in which the kingdom of God should
be shown in the character with which it was endowed in the designs of God,
even to lay stress on the sacrifices that were demanded of those who would
enter that kingdom.
That was the critical moment, when those who heard Him
were called upon to give up their grandiose expectations and accept His view
of God's kingdom, to set about the work as God would have it to be, no matter
how humble and hard it might seem.
To prepare their minds for this Jesus
employs the parable, thus making them think and giving them occasion for
asking questions.
Though not presented in all its distinctness,
nevertheless
the teaching of Jesus was clear enough,
and if it appeared obscure to His
hearers,
that was because their hearts were of no help to their minds:
the
Sermon on the Mount had not produced in them all its fruit.
They were still
dreaming of an earthly happiness which they expected to be granted to them
without cost to themselves.
As yet Jesus does not reveal to them all the
renunciations, sufferings, and sacrifices His followers will have to face,
but He makes appeal to their good will.
They have not the will to understand.
This method of teaching by parables, a method inspired by mercy, adapted to
the capacity of uneducated minds and throwing as much light as their state
of mind allowed them to perceive, was not at present intended as a punishment.
But the time came when that punishment was deserved, and then their disregard
of His goodness added another reason to those which drew down justice upon
them in place of the mercy He had offered.
This is what Jesus already knew
beforehand and what the evangelists have recorded.
And God, foreseeing all,
had therefore said to the Messiah what He had once said to Isaias, full of
divine anger because of His slighted love:
'Speak in such a way that they will not understand.
Shed so much light that they may be blinded by it.'
The parable of the sower (84, 86).
Luke viii.4-8, 11-15; Mark iv.1-9, 13-20; Matthew xiii.1-9, 18-23.
That day, then, Jesus had resolved to speak to the multitude about the kingdom
of God.
The subject was a difficult one, and His hearers little disposed to accept
a teaching tliat completely upset their expectations of a glorious happiness
which was to come without any trouble on their part.
In order to stir up both
their minds and their good will He acts before them similitudes in terms which
were familiar to them all;
nevertheless, He does not apply these similitudes
to the subject of His teaching except in a general way,
for He wishes to stimulate
their curiosity and enlighten them gradually.
The sermon was to be long, and
the crowd which He found collected there was of a more mixed character than
were those who had followed Him for the Sermon on the Mount.
That He might
be able to talk in peace,
the Master went on board a boat and sat down,
while
the audience remained on shore facing the lake.
His first parable,
that of the sower,
was easy to follow for those who lived
in the fields of Palestine.
The sower casts his seed,
and some of the grain
falls on the paths which neither wall nor hedge separates from the field.
That
falls to the share of the birds.
Can we not see them snatching at the grain
as it comes out of the bag, even before it reaches the ground?
In some
places, especially on the hill-sides where the tiniest plots of ground are
utilized,
patches of good land are set among the rocks.
The sower avoids the
rocks,
but without noticing, he throws the seed in places where there is an
outcrop of rock covered with a thin layer of soil.
The seed shoots up more
quickly there,
but is soon dried up by the sun.
The sower in the parable has
not bothered to pull up the thorns,
for there is no call for very great industry
and labour in a country where the soil is so light and fertile:
he will content
himself with cutting them down when he mows the wheat or barley.
But by that
time they will have shed their seed and will have grown up thickly in among
the corn so that they choke it.
But in the meantime the good ground has received
its share of the seed,
yielding fruit thirtyfold and at times a hundredfold.
[It would be difficult to find such a yield as a hundredfold
even in the most fertile parts of Galilee.
This figure, then, of itself suggests to the mind a fruitfulness that is supernatural.
However, we see from the Old Testament that it was an expression consecrated
by use.
But see an article in Biblica, 1927, p. 84. ff., by Rev. Fr. Sonnen of the Congregation
of the Mission, who speaks of grain yielding 240 or 250 fold on the shores of
the lake of Tiberias!
On the other hand, read the article of Rev. Fr. Biever in Conférences
de Saint-Etienne,
1910-1911, pp. 274-5.]
When alone with His disciples, Jesus explains this opening
parable of His long discourse.
The seed is the word or doctrine which He teaches.
We are immediately, therefore, bordering on allegory.
We should find some
difficulty, however, in explaining all the other terms of the parable in
an allegorical fashion.
The seed is always the same, always good, no matter
where it falls,
and so is the word.
But when a sudden temptation of Satan
stops the word from having its effect even before the mind has considered
it,
snatching it out of the mind as it were before it has been able to reach
the heart,
that is something in the moral sphere which corresponds with the
grain falling by the wayside where it is eaten up by the birds.
So, too,
the stony ground is the figure of those changeable dispositions in a hearer
of the word who,
though enthusiastic at first, easily becomes discouraged.
The thorns that choke the corn stand for the desire of riches
and for all
those worldly preoccupations which absorb our activity and paralyse our good
desires.
The good ground is good will.
When Jesus said to the multitude:
'He that hath ears to hear,
let him hear,'
He meant to stir up their curiosity
and show Himself prepared to give to all this simple explanation which would
give them a hold of the kingdom of God, for this kingdom could not establish
itself and bear fruit in them unless they lent their co-operation.
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The parable of the seed that multiplies and ripens by itself in the course of time (88).
This parable is peculiar to St. Mark.
No explanation of it was given, but
like all the others its meaning would follow upon careful reflection, and Jesus
Himself showed the key.
We know to begin with that the situation therein described
has its analogy in the kingdom of God;
what happens in the temporal order
is guided by the law which governs what happens in the religious sphere.
What
takes place when a man cultivates the earth?
The sower casts his seed upon
good soil and he has only to wait for harvest time.
Whatever efforts he makes
to hurry things on will all be futile.
The seed will develop of itself:
it
only needs time.
Time is a necessary condition of growth,
and the result for
which the sower hopes is bound to come.
So it is in the kingdom of God.
It is patent to all that the kingdom of God
is being established by Jesus.
The Galilaeans, naturally eager and over-excited
by their hopes,
feel disposed to hasten the object of their desires by turbulent
measures.
Was it not to be expected that God should establish His kingdom
in a violent and dramatic fashion, as was foretold in parabolic manner by
the book attributed to ihc ancient patriarch Henoch?
'I speak concerning the elect, of them do I utter my parable:
He shall go forth from His dwelling, the Holy and Great One.
The God of the world shall go forth thence upon Sinai,
and He shall appear in the midst of His army',
[Book of Henoch, I, 3-4, after M. l'Abbe Martin's translation.] and so on.
But no,
God's work is not to be accomplished by a divine manifestation attended by
an instantaneous effect.
It is a long business and it must have time.
This little parable is a perfect model of the true parabolic style.
It contains
in itself nothing allegorical.
If God were the sower,
how could He be likened
to a man that does nothing?
Is it not He who ripens the crop by warming it
with His sun and moistening it with His rain?
Nor does the sower stand for
a hearer of the word, whether of one kind or another,
for it is not the hearer
who puts the seed into the earth.
And is not he also rather invited by Jesus
to work for the kingdom of God?
We cannot even say that Jesus is the sower,
as if He were urging Himself not to be anxious about the success of His work.
We must conclude, then, that here we have light thrown on the working of the
kingdom of God by means of a certain phase of the law of nature.
Let us rest
content with this lesson ourselves,
a very expedient one when it was first
delivered
and equally opportune at all times:
a lesson of confidence in the
hidden power of the kingdom of God.
That power cannot fail to produce a rich
harvest at the time appointed by God;
time is required for every work that
involves growth.
There must be neither violent interference nor discouragement,
though we may not be able to understand why God seems to leave things to go
their own way.
He is working all the time at the ripening of the seed.
top
The parable of the cockle in the cornfield (89, 93).
The similitude of the cockle shows us another aspect of the kingdom of God.
In Mark's parable the sower was bidden to put his trust in the virtue of the
seed sowed in the good soil.
That of itself was a guarantee of the harvest.
But it might seem that there was need for the farmer to interfere at least
if the cornfield was being overrun by bad seed, and still more if the harm
was due to a neighbour's ill-will, who had gone to the length of scattering
cockle over a cornfield that was already sown.
Yet to interfere even in such
a case was a very delicate operation, and might easily do more harm than good.
It was not advisable to risk pulling up the wheat with the cockle.
So even
in such a case as this a man must put his trust in the Providence of the Father
who rules over nature.
No one could fall into the error of thinking that the
cockle and the wheat would be mingled permanently:
the wheat that feeds man
and the cockle which causes a sort of intoxication yet does not appease hunger.
[The Rev. Fr. Paul Couvreur, prior of the Trappist monastery
at el-Athroun, relates how a lazy mule was fed on cockle when her owner wished
to sell the beast, with the result that she became too frisky!]
But once they were gathered in at the harvest it would be easy to separate
them.
Such was also to be the law of the kingdom of God. ...
Was evil, then, still
to go on being mixed with good even in that kingdom?
Was the kingdom of God
not to produce the very flower of virtue which was guaranteed to bear its fruit?
That was the common opinion.
In the days of the high priest who was to come,
said the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs as if echoing the prophecies,
'sin will vanish and sinners shall cease to do evil ...
and he will grant to the saints to eat of the tree of life,
and the spirit of holiness shall be upon them.
And Beliar (Satan) shall be imprisoned by him.'
[Le Messianisme ..., p. 74.]
Alas! no;
it was not to be thus in the kingdom of God which Jesus was preaching
and founding.
The parable, considered as a parable, gave quite a clear answer
on this decisive point;
but it was susceptible of a more detailed
allegorical explanation which Jesus imparted to His disciples at their request.
He Himself was the sower,
and He was scattering His word through the world,
full of joy at gathering together disciples who were docile to that word.
But the devil was working against Him,
and he, too, was gathering followers.
Jesus showed how the patience of God was enduring this mingling of good and
evil,
until the day when the angels should come to lead the good into the
kingdom of God,
while the wicked are to be cast into the furnace of fire.
Thus the prospect changed from the kingdom of God on earth to God's kingdom
in heaven.
His hearers, faithful to the teaching of Judaism, were in no doubt
about the future destiny of the just and of sinners;
but they made the mistake
of applying the conditions of eternity to the things of time.
Jesus had not
come to preach the advent of another deluge that was to be inevitable and final,
but to make men better by leading them to God.
That was what the kingdom of
God meant.
Virtue was to be practised in combating evil, not however with the
expectation of suppressing it entirely:
that would be to attempt the impossible.
It was not the Sower's intention to paralyse effort on our part by declaring
that the intrinsic power of the kingdom of God was sufficient of itself.
Neither
did He prescribe indifference in the face of evil:
the struggle against evil
implies that we be on our guard against the influence of wicked men.
He simply
warned His disciples against the unrealizable hope of completely extirpating
evil from the world.
It is good to have patience even with the evil that lies
within ourselves and compels us to cry to the Father.
top
The parable of the grain of mustard seed (90).
Luke xiii.18-19; Mark iv.30-32; Matthew xiii.31-32.
Jesus foresaw the likelihood of His hearers, even His disciples, being scandalized,
and never tired of forewarning them.
The kingdom of God, they thought, must
be something great.
It was surely to appear with striking magnificence, for
had not the Law been given long ago on Sinai with impressive solemnity?
All
through history the Law had been defeated in its purpose by the people's bad
will.
But the kingdom of God, so it was thought, was to be
different precisely in this, that it would impose itself with sovereign power,
reaching to the very ends of the universe at once.
A century before the time
of Jesus the Book of Jubilees had declared:
'The Lord shall appear before the eyes of all,
and all shall know that I am the God of Israel.'
[Le Messianisme ..., p. 148.]
Some even went so far as to invoke the testimony of the Sibylline oracles, so greatly venerated among the Gentiles:
'Then will God send from the sun a king who will make the bane of war to cease throughout the whole earth.'
[Ibid., p. 117.]
Even the Pharisees, though they used greater restraint than the seers of the Apocalypses in their description of the kingdom of God, were hoping for a restoration that would be complete and immediate through the intervention of God's manifestation of Himself:
'So we hope in Thee, O Jah, our God,
that we may see speedily the magnificence of Thy power;
that Thou mayest take away the idols from the earth
and utterly destroy the false gods.'
[The Alènu prayer. Cf. Le Messianisme, p. 153 ff.]
Hence in
places where the prophets spoke of the coming of God, the Jewish translators
frequently substituted manifestation of God for presence of God;
thus they
turned the presence of a hidden God into a splendour that was visible.
But this is not the meaning of Jesus.
He has compared the kingdom of God to
a grain of wheat:
He now goes further and likens it to an even tinier seed,
to the almost imperceptible grain of mustard seed.
[Cf. article of Rev. Fr. Biever, Conferences de Saint-Étienne,
1910-1911, p. 280 ff.]
He sweeps away all vain
theatrical imagery and leads back His hearers to reflect upon that hidden interior
power of the kingdom of God that alone is of importance.
But small as are the
exterior beginnings of that kingdom,
it will yet grow until it shelters the
birds of heaven in its branches.
[Ezechiel xvii.23.]
It is one and the same thing:
that which
once was small now becomes great.
If we say with M. Loisy that here there is
an antithesis between the gospel preaching and the kingdom as it is shown developed
in its final manifestation [L'Evangile
et l'Eglise, 1st Ed., p. 16.],
it will be because we still hold to that false
conception of the manifestation of the kingdom which Jesus has set on one side:
because we conceive of that development of the kingdom as something dramatic
in effect when it is merely a continuous movement, or as a sudden transformation
when it is
only a normal growth.
It is the gospel preaching,
still recognizable in that
tiny mustard seed,
which will itself become a great tree.
No doubt there
will be a striking contrast between the first beginnings and a later stage
of development,
for the kingdom will have grown in its outward appearance;
nevertheless it
will have grown by the power that is within it and without ceasing to be what
it was before.
As for the birds of heaven sheltered in its branches,
they could
easily be recognized as the people who were obedient to the teaching of Jesus.
It was in this manner that His first hearers were taught and so preserved from
that fatal prejudice which was the great stumbling-block of the Jews.
For us
this teaching has the significance of a prophecy that has been fulfilled.
In
the light of history we are witnesses of the humble beginnings and the progress
of the kingdom of God, of its advance from synagogue to synagogue, from shore
to shore, its passing from hostile Jews to contemptuous pagans.
We have merely
to open our eyes in order to see it established in the whole world, giving
shelter to so many souls who live within it for God, who invites and waits
for all nations to practise its righteousness and enjoy its peace.
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The parable of the leaven (91).
Luke xiii.20-21; Matthew xiii.33.
By the growth of the mustard seed into a tree, or rather a bush,
was shown
the extension of the kingdom of God.
There is not much increase in the size
of the bread through the addition of leaven,
but at any rate the bread tastes
different, and all men like it better.
In this parable the kingdom of God is
likened to a hidden force,
just as the leaven is concealed in the dough,
but
it is a force that is full of activity, like the leaven affecting the whole
mass of dough.
Without any doubt, also, the kingdom of God, under the form
in which it was then expected, ought to be a better kind of kingdom;
the Israelites
were already good,
but the Gentiles were to be converted.
The conception of
a spiritual force, however, whether conceived as working within the soul or
among men as a group, was absent from the dreams of the Jewish seers.
Even
the rabbis, who could discourse endlessly on the transformation to be wrought
in
the kingdom of God upon plants, animals, and men, make no mention of that power
of God which, according to St. Paul, is the whole Gospel.
[Romans i.16.
In Strack and Billerbeck's enormous compilation
there is no comment on Matthew's verse except technical details about leaven,
etc.]
Once again, therefore,
one of Our Lord's very simple comparisons adumbrates the doctrine of His
great apostle and is seen by us to be a prophecy.
Astonishing as the spread
of the gospel may be,
yet such a different doctrine as that of Islam is still
spreading before our eyes.
Nevertheless, it has never succeeded in imposing
itself by force of an inward conviction,
and it only prevailed at first by
the power of the sword.
And think what the surroundings were
in which this
leaven of Christianity was to be placed
for its task of enlightening men's
minds,
reforming their morals,
setting right their social relations,
and
making their souls divine!
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The parables of the treasure, the pearl, and the fishing-net. Conclusion (94-95; 92, 96).
Mark iv.33-34; Matthew xiii.44-50; 34-35; 51-52.
After giving the main features of the kingdom of God,
Jesus urges His hearers
to possess themselves of it,
even at the sacrifice of everything they have.
Was it then within their reach?
Did it depend on them whether they obtained
it?
Such was not the idea of those who expected to see it appear suddenly
in majesty,
transforming the world and its inhabitants,
imposing itself on
them by the splendour of the Lord God.
But He had given them to understand
that this kingdom was a doctrine -
doubtless the very doctrine He had preached
in the Sermon on the Mount -
and that this doctrine's destiny hung upon the
dispositions with which it was received.
It was time, therefore, to call upon
them by the use of homely comparisons to set to work in order to gain the benefit
of the kingdom, in the way that they would not hesitate to act if they wished
merely to gain money.
This is the significance of the very clear and urgent
parables of the treasure and the pearl.
And as they were on the shores of the
lake, and so far He had taken almost all His comparisons from farming and housekeeping,
He ends with a comparison that brings in fishermen.
He had already promised
Peter that He would make him a fisher of men,
and there is an illustration
of the kingdom of God in that too.
The great net brings in fish, both good
and bad.
So long as the fishing is not over they are all left alive together.
Thus also at the end of time will take place the sorting of good and bad, a
sorting that is for ever.
Finally Jesus adds a touch that shows the relation between the doctrine of
the Sermon on the Mount and the kingdom of God, which consists of a word which
is animated by the power of God.
Just as He was come to complete or perfect
the Law,
so the teachers of the future who have been initiated into that word
will be like
'a householder who bringeth forth out of his treasure new things and old.'
[Matthew xiii.52.]
The light will go on increasing (87).
Luke viii.16-18; Mark iv.21-25.
So as not to interrupt the series of parables about the kingdom of God we
have made no mention of a very precious remark of Our Lord's concerning
their apparent obscurity:
that obscurity was only for a time, and it was
in the nature of things.
The time had not come for giving full light, because
it is the necessary condition of all prophecy to seem clear only when it
has been fulfilled.
The teaching that was being given of the kingdom of
God afforded simply an instantaneous view of the new order of things now
begun.
God has never revealed the future as if He were unrolling a film
showing beforehand the events that were going to happen.
But that was no
reason whatever for growing restive, because even so Jesus was giving a
great light, and a light is not meant to be put under a bushel.
If there
was still some obscurity, clearness would come later.
Pay good heed, said
Jesus, to what you are hearing.
Even by itself it is a most precious gift.
For one gift leads on to another if only a man has the desire to profit
by what he has received.
If he has not that desire even that little light
will itself go out.
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