Fifth Sunday after Easter
May 29, 1859
“But the righteousness which is of faith speaketh on this wise, Say not in thine heart, Who shall ascend into heaven? (that is, to bring Christ down from above): or, Who shall descend into the deep? (that is, to bring up Christ again from the dead). But what saith it? The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart: that is, the word of faith, which we preach; that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.”—Romans x. 6-9.
St. Paul is here, as elsewhere in this Epistle, contrasting the righteousness of the law, the righteousness which consists in mere acts, with the righteousness of faith—that which concerns a man’s being,—that which he acquires by trusting in a righteous God. Some, no doubt, of his readers, Jews as well as Gentiles, would suppose that by this contrast he was setting aside the lessons of Moses; or, at all events, that he was treating them as if they belonged to an earlier time, and had been made obsolete by the Gospel. There was no real warrant for such an opinion in any part of his letter. Everywhere he had appealed to the Old Testament and the lives of its heroes, as examples of that righteousness which was not legal but personal. If David and the Psalmists were not contradicting the old Lawgiver, St. Paul was not contradicting him. But here he adduces the authority of the Lawgiver himself. He quotes first a passage from the book of Leviticus, which describes, in clear, distinct terms, the legal righteousness, “the man which doeth these things shall live by them.” He then takes a passage from the book of Deuteronomy, which describes, he says, as clearly, the righteousness of faith. Thereby he shows that he is not setting up the wisdom of one period against the wisdom of another, but is asserting principles which are immutable, which belong to the constitution of man. In no time could a law of letters, written and graven in stones, be the ground of righteousness for a human being. In all times a law of letters might be of immense value in defining what acts ought not to be done. At no time could trust in an actual living person be merged in obedience to formal rules. At all times the trust must be the root and principle of an obedience. Moses had proclaimed this distinction and this doctrine in his day,—as St. Paul was to proclaim them in his own. If they were true, all the intermediate history of the world would have thrown light upon them. If St. Paul’s message to mankind was true, if his Gospel was not a delusion,—it would not set at nought, but unfold, the lessons of the old world.
I. The words in the book of Deuteronomy are these:—“For this commandment which I command thee this day, it is not hidden from thee, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that thou shouldest say; Who shall go up for us to heaven and bring it unto us, that we may hear it and do it? Neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say, Who shall go over the sea for us and bring it unto us, that we may hear it and do it? But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it.”
St. Paul does not quote these words exactly. He gives what he believes to be the inner sense of them. Moses here, as throughout the book, was comparing the word which had been proclaimed to the Israelites by an unseen God with the worship of visible things to which men are naturally prone. Now the impulse to this worship may be described generally thus. It is a craving to find out what is in the heaven over us, or in the depth beneath. Men look up to the sun, moon, and stars. They are exercising some kind of rule over us. What kind of rule? The Sun looks down upon the earth and sees the deeds that are done upon it. Is he a judge? Does he take account of those deeds? Blessings come from his light. He scorches and consumes as well as illuminates. Are these tokens of his good or ill will? The Night—that too must exercise a sovereignty. It seemed a calmer, steadier government than that of the day, with all its changeable aspects. Fearful crimes must be revealed to the eyes which look out of those clear stars. The sage might dismiss these imaginations, but he could not dismiss the belief that the powers in the heavens were in marvellous ways affecting the earth. Beneath the mere forms which came forth by day or night, he perceived a Light which must have been earlier than they. And if a Light, was there not also a Darkness? Had they struggled together for ever? Which was first? Were they to be rivals for ever? Which would survive the other? Who would ascend into heaven that he might find an answer to these questions?
But again. The sun coming forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, the moon walking in her brightness, would not speak more to human hearts than the unfathomable deep. How is it that the first sight of the sea impresses us? What impression has it left on the mind of the world? Before man has learnt to traverse it with his ships, the sense of illimitable depth, more even than of illimitable vastness, overpowers him. Is that the grave into which all things are at last to descend? Has it not something to do with the grave into which each of us must descend? Is death the end of the Universe as well as of us? Who will go down into the deep and tell us?
Moses knew assuredly that there would be this craving in all hearts for tidings from above and from beneath. He was sure that the craving would not be checked by any disappointments. For God Himself had set these heavens over their heads; God had surrounded them with these waters. The message which they brought to men was His message. And how then might the eagerness of men to question heaven above and the deep below for answers to their doubts, be stayed? Lo! the word is nigh thee, in thy heart and in thy mouth, that thou mayest do it.
The Ruler thou art seeking in the skies is close to thyself. Thou hast thought He was looking down upon thee out of the sun, because His light was penetrating into thy heart and showing thee the secrets of it. He commands the sun, but first of all He commands thee. His word has fixed the bounds of the deep, but first of all he has fixed what thou shouldst be, and what thou shouldst do. He is Creator of these things. He is thy Lord, thy Deliverer, thy Friend. Trust Him, and the heavens above will look bright and clear to thee. Trust Him, and the deep will not be terrible to thee. Thou mayest walk joyfully in the light of the day, for it testifies of Him Who is ordering thy steps. Thou mayest traverse the deep fearlessly, for He will be with thee.
This was the way, the only way, by which the old Lawgiver could check the restless search in his people after news from the world above and the world beneath,—could check the idolatry of upper and nether gods, which in all other countries was the result and expression of that restlessness. Just so far as they heeded his exhortation, and acted upon it, just so far could they walk calmly and cheerfully along life’s common road, pondering their steps, not distracted by vague threats or promises—doing the thing which was given them to do—resisting the temptations to distrust which beset them every moment—rejoicing in every glimpse of light which they had, earnest for more. These were the brave, true fighters, whom we find holding fast their faith, confessing their sins, uttering their complainings and hopes in the book of Psalms. These are the prophets, to whom the word of God came, and who testified of that word of God to the kings, priests, prophets, people——who told them how they were forgetting the Lord, following their own delusions, fearing where no fear was, deceiving themselves with dreams that could have no issue. For these kings and priests and prophets and people, not believing that there was a word nigh them, even in their hearts, not trembling before that word as if it were God’s, turned to all vain things that could not profit, to the delusions and abominations of the nations round about them. One while they would be occupied with their gold and silver, their chariots and horses, would affirm that there was nothing real but these. Then in hours of trouble and anguish their hearts would be moved as the trees are moved by the wind. They would be afraid to ask of God the signs and tokens that His promises would be fulfilled; but they would consult wizards that peep and mutter; they would ask in wild dismay, “Who will go for us into the heights; who will go down for us into the deep?” The human anxieties which they had in vain tried to repress by the aid of a sensual life and a religion of distrust and fear, would burst forth in all their violence. But there would be no answer to them. The firmament over them would seem to be brass. None could break through its impassive, unsympathizing sternness; yet all might be the victims of its caprices. The ground below would utter low murmurings. None could interpret them; but it might open in a moment, and all the pomp and glory of the earth descend into it.
II. Fourteen hundred years had passed away since Moses spoke that sentence. St. Paul was writing, in a character unknown to his fathers, to the inhabitants of a city in a different continent from theirs—a city which did not begin to exist till centuries after the Jewish lawgiver had left the world—a city which appeared to have crushed all the hopes of freedom and dominion which that Lawgiver had taught his countrymen to cherish—a city which looked upon Palestine as one of the least of the trophies that showed it to be the predestined Queen of the Nations. Who can reckon up the changes which had taken place in those years, the empires which had risen and fallen, the dreams which had been cherished and scattered? What had not changed? The sun and moon and stars looked down as of old upon men. They suggested thoughts to them still of a fixed rule and order. The same questions had been stirring during all that time—stirring far more actively than in former days about the nature of that rule. Astrologers had tried to discover it; mythologies had been built up for the explanation of it. Philosophers had confuted those mythologies. Men had had enough disappointments to make them despair of any solution. And yet they could not despair. Amidst all the weariness and unbelief of St. Paul’s time,—while such numbers were repeating Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” with more than his listlessness and scorn—the cry might be heard on every side, “Who will go for us into heaven? Who will tell us about these dynasts, who are exercising some strange control over our destinies?”
The sea had been the scene of many a fight; it had become the minister of man’s wants and pleasures. Yet it had not lost its terrors. It still hinted at an abyss in which all things might sink and be lost. It still associated itself with the thoughts of that grave into which every ruler of the earth had to pass. Only, as St. Paul intimates by the changes he introduces into the language of Moses, it was rather Death itself in its grim, naked form that was presenting itself to each man, than mere general symbols of it. What is he? Is he the great King of all kings? Why do we fight him to the last? Why do we not quietly yield to his supremacy, since he has established it by the evidence of centuries? Why this clinging to life? Why this dream of immortality? Why this horror of it? Who will go down into the deep, and bring us back some tidings, that we may know?
The countrymen of Moses were not really less tormented by these questions than the heathens. They spoke learned words about a heaven above the visible heaven; about a second and third heaven. They had much lore also about the grave and the resurrection that might follow it. But, practically, they thought of God as a distant Being, seated somewhere in the sky or above the sky, just as the worshippers of the Olympian Jove did. Practically their speculations about the nether world were not less confused—were in many respects darker—than those of the nations which assigned it to Pluto. And why? Because they had forgotten the lesson of Moses. They knew they ought to keep the law, but they did not ask themselves how they should acquire the righteous mind which would enable them to keep the law. They did not believe that there was a word near them, speaking to them in their hearts. They did not believe that that word came from the mouth of God. If they had, they would have asked Him to teach them of the heaven above and the deep beneath. They would have been sure that He knew the secrets of both. They would not have doubted that the questionings which had been awakened in His creatures respecting them were to have a solution—a more complete solution than they could dream of.
Here then is the meaning of those explanations with which St. Paul interpolates the passage he borrowed from Moses. “Who shall ascend into heaven? (that is, to bring Christ down from above): Who shall descend into the deep? (that is, to bring Christ again from the dead).” He intimates that the craving to go up into heaven and down into the deep, could not be effectually quelled in the nations of the earth, that it must go on producing ever fresh restlessness, ever fresh superstitions, unless it could be declared that One had sounded the deep; had entered death and the grave and hell; had ascended into heaven. He intimates that those who had been learning the lesson of Moses, who had been heeding the word that spoke to them in their hearts, had been trying to obey it, would be ready to welcome the news that the problem which had been haunting all human beings was solved for all human beings; that the mysteries of the nether world had been penetrated; that He Who had descended into the lower parts of the earth, had ascended far above all heavens, that He might fill all things. But above all, he says to the Roman Christians who had received these tidings, who had confessed that the crucified Lord was the Head of all Principalities and Powers, and of every name that is named, “Let there be no fever and restlessness in you. Do not you be asking for any to ascend into heaven, or to descend into the deep. That is to disbelieve that Christ has actually conquered death and hell; that is to disbelieve that He has actually united our nature to God’s nature; that He has actually glorified our nature at God’s right hand. Your business is to trust the risen Lord with your secret hearts; to be believing in His perfect righteousness, and by faith to be clothing yourselves with His nature. Your business is to be fighting, as your forefathers fought, against all the temptations to distrust, cowardice, baseness, which are besetting you on every side. Your business is to be desiring that all should be known that can be known about the heaven above or the deep beneath, because nothing can be known that will not be a greater revelation of the goodness and truth of your Father in heaven, and of the glory to which He has called us by His Son. By simplest acts of daily obedience, by continual efforts to be true, to speak truth, to follow truth, you are to prove that Christ’s word is speaking to you, speaking in you; you are to show forth His risen life. But you are to confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus, as well as to believe in Him with your heart. For He has not died and ascended on high for you, but for mankind. He has not led your captivity captive, but the captivity of your race. He does not reign over you, nor even over your nation or your Church, but over all Powers in heaven and earth. Therefore you are to confess and proclaim to the inhabitants of the earth, not your religion, but Him Who died and revived and went to His Father, that He might draw all to Himself. You are to think that every man who, amidst whatever confusion, is striving to be faithful and righteous, is obeying a word speaking in his heart—and because that is God’s word and not man’s, will be led by Him into all truth. You are not to doubt that through all cloudy and dark ways, by wars and revolutions, by judgments upon kingdoms and churches, God is leading to, and will accomplish His great victory, will throw down all images and notions of ours about things in the heaven above or in the deep, which have hidden His righteousness from men, will manifest Him Who has died and risen and ascended, as the one perfect image of that righteousness to His Universe.”