15. FOURTEENTH LECTURE

LEV. CHAP. XIV.

I HAVE stated the fact, that leprosy was not curable by human remedies. It did not always, however, continue for life. It was often sent as a special judgment, as in the cases of Miriam, Azariah, and Gehazi. The Jews generally looked upon it in this light. Its very name denotes a stroke of the Lord. This, of itself, rather implies that it may cease with the repentance and forgiveness of the smitten offender. Miriam was healed in the course of a week. And learned men tell us, that it sometimes runs its course in the system, and then dries up as of its own accord. At any rate, we know of many lepers being healed, both in the Savior's time and before, not by human skill, but by divine power and grace.

It was the anticipation of the healing, of at least some persons leprously affected, that formed the basis of the provisions here laid down. They constitute "the law of the leper in the day of his cleansing;" and if there was no possibility of cure, there was no use of this law.

You will observe, however, that these regulations were not for the cure of the leper, but for his ceremonial cleansing after the cure. The priest was first to examine "if the plague of leprosy had been healed in the leper;" and it was only in case he found the plague healed, that these laws were to go into effect. You recollect the case in the Gospel history, of "a man full of leprosy, who, seeing Jesus, fell on his face, and besought him, saying, 'Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And he put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will: be thou clean. And immediately the leprosy departed from him.'" The man was cured. Everything of his disease was quite gone. But still he was not yet restored to his social and religious privileges as a Jew. It yet remained for him to comply with this "law of the leper." Hence the Savior said to him, "Go, and show thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing, according as Moses commanded." We thus have the authority of Christ for it, that this law was for the ceremonial cleansing of lepers after they were cured, and not for their cure. The disease had first to be stayed, and then began this process of cleansing off all its lingering effects and disabilities. I therefore take the deepest intention of these rites to be, to illustrate the nature of sanctification. Justification is also implied, but only as connected with sanctification. Of course there can be no sanctification without forgiveness and acquittal first. Condemnation must be removed before there can be any advances in holiness. Hence, these cleansing ceremonies were to begin by the priest's inspection of the recovered leper, and the pronunciation of him healed of his disease. Let us look a little at these preliminaries, and we will be the better prepared to appreciate what was to follow.

1. In the first place it is presupposed that the leper's disease had been stayed. And this healing again points to some putting forth of divine power and grace quite different from anything here brought to view, and far anterior to the commencement of these services. The first motion of our salvation is from God. It begins while we are yet in the very depths of our defilement and guilt. "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The grounds of our justification are all provided for us in the mercy of God, without any sort of co-operation on our part. The first that we know of our spiritual estate, is the Gospel sounding in our ears, telling us that we have been dead in sin, and that God hath found a ransom by which, if we believe and act on his word, "there is now no more condemnation." Our healing is begun in Christ Jesus before we are conscious of it. The very first that we hear on the subject is, the glad tidings that our leprosy is stayed, and that all we have now to do is to go forward with what is prescribed for our cleansing. We need no longer sit brooding in despondency over our leprous condition. All that is as good as cured in Christ Jesus. A full and free forgiveness of all our sins is provided. And the only remaining requirement is, to "go show thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing, according as Moses commanded." 2. The leper, finding his leprosy stayed, was to go to the judge in the case, and claim exemption from the sentence that was upon him. And to render this the more easy for him, the priest had to "go forth out of the camp" to meet him. The very moment the sinner believes in the healing proclaimed to him in the Gospel, and sets himself to move for his cleansing, Christ meets him. The father runs to embrace the returning prodigal while yet a great way off. We have only to say to him, "See, I have been a filthy leper. My whole nature has been corrupt and unclean. But here in this Gospel and its provisions is a complete cure. This pure white righteousness of my Savior and surety is enough to exempt me from being any longer excluded from the society of my friends. Examine it, and see whether the disease is not healed. In the power of this holy word I am no longer to be numbered with the outcast and condemned. Deliver me then from this terrible exclusion."

3. And when the healed leper thus presented himself to the priest, there was no alternative left. He had to be pronounced cured. And so Christ hath bound himself to acquit and absolve every sinner who thus comes to him in the strength of the Gospel message. There is no further hindrance in the way. The man is justified. The sentence that was against him is exscinded and taken away. All that concerns our forgiveness or justification then lies in this,—Do we believe the Gospel message? Do we take it to be true that Christ has wrought out for us a sufficient righteousness? Do we rest upon his sacrifice as our propitiation? Do we receive to our hearts and repose upon the announcement of pardon through his mediation? If we do, we are forgiven. Our sins are remembered against us no more. We are absolved. We are justified. The process of our sanctification has begun. But, the mere absolution of the priest did not fully restore the leper. Though his disease was stayed, there was a taint of it remaining to be purged off before he could join the camp or the holy services.

And so our whole salvation must miscarry, if it does not also take in an active holiness, purifying our hearts and lives, and transforming us into the image of our Redeemer. How this sanctification is effected is what we are now to consider.

I. To cleanse the recovered leper, the first thing to be done was the procurement of two clean birds, the one of which was to be slain, and the other to be dipped in its fellow's blood and set at liberty. These two doves, the gentlest of all God's creatures, at once carry our thoughts back to Christ, and his wonderful history. Like them he was meek and pure—the "gentle Jesus." Like them he was taken from his peaceful home, and made captive to the law. The fate of the one shows us how he was mangled for human guilt, crushed to death for the sins of others, and brought down to the depths of the earth. The other, coming up out of the earthen vessel, out of the blood of its fellow, shows us how Jesus rose again from the rocky sepulchre, and ascended up out of the hand of his captor on strong and joyous pinions far into the high abodes of heaven, scattering as he went the gracious drops of cleansing and salvation. The introduction of these birds, in this connection, presents a great theological fact. As they typify Christ, they show, that our sanctification, as well as our justification, proceeds from his cross and resurrection. True, it is the Spirit that sanctifies, through the truth; but had not Christ died and risen again, "the truth" would have been disrobed of its power, and the Holy Ghost would not have come. His teachings are indeed sublime and perfect; but they would be dead as man's philosophies, without their proper seal of dying love, and the living energies which flow through them from their Author's triumph over death, and his gifts of power shed from the heavens whither he ascended.

When Themistocles was a young man, and the battle scenes of Marathon were stirring the blood of heroes, for a time he could not rest day nor night. All his common affections seemed to be suddenly stricken dead. Being asked as to the cause, he said, "The trophies of Miltiades will not suffer me to sleep." And so there are certain stirring, melting, transforming potencies, proceeding from Gethsemane and Calvary and Olivet, which

— seize upon the mind,—arrest, and search,

And shake it,—bend the tall soul as by wind,—

Rush over it like rivers over reeds,

Which quiver in the current,—turn us cold,

And pale, and voiceless,— tearing the sinner from his guilty peace, and thrilling him with thoughts, and fears, and aspirations, which reach throughout eternity. I will not now attempt to explain how it is; but there is a mightiness in the blood-doctrine of the cross, which works upon the human heart, and changes and renews it, as nothing else has ever done, or can do. Let man once fairly see and believe it, and sin that moment loses its supremacy in his soul, and withers and fades. Can I look on a Savior's love, unaided and alone interposing for my rescue, and see my condemnation dying in his death, and the guilt of my past offences buried in his grave, and the decree of perfect absolution issuing from his resurrection, and the invitations to immortality opened to me in his ascension, and not feel a 22 *

R grateful impulse of compliance in my soul which snaps the cords of sin asunder, and covers base passion with infinite contempt? Can I behold so dearbought and great a salvation brought to my very door and offered freely to my acceptance, and feel no check of selfishness that I may live for ever? Can

I believe that all the dreadful weight of my guilt was laid upon that meek Lamb, and expiated in his blood, entitling me to step up and be a companion of angels in the habitation of God, and not feel inwardly impelled to deny my heart its short-lived sinful pleasures that I may have eternal blessedness?

Ho, child of folly! Only

Cast up thy tearful eyes

To where thy Lord and Love was crucified;

So shall the world, and all its vanities,

Appear like dross;—ambition, lust, and pride,

Shall far, far off their baleful powers remove,

And in the pure, unspotted mind

Nothing remain

But adoration, ecstasy, and love.

Let men reason as they please, it is after all the Savior's blood and resurrection which sanctifies.

Talk they of morals? O thou bleeding Lamb!

The best morality is love to Thee.

II. The next thing to be done for the cleansing of the recovered leper, was the arrangement and use of means to apply the cleansing blood. Three different articles were to be combined into one instrument for this purpose—a stem of cedar wood, a bunch of scarlet wool, and a parcel of twigs of hyssop. I will not undertake to say what was the detail of typical signification in these several articles. The cedar wood here spoken of is remarkable for its durability, fragrance, and healthful-looking redness of heart. The scarlet color of the wool, which was much esteemed by the orientals, may have some allusion to the blood of the leper returning again to its natural color, and signify healthiness. Hyssop is a small bushy plant, aromatic, and warming in its medicinal properties. The stick of cedar formed a sort of handle or stem on which the wool and hyssop were fastened, so as to make a convenient instrument for taking of the blood to sprinkle it upon the body of him who was to be cleansed. The whole thing taken together presents us with the fact, that our sanctification by the blood of the crucified and risen Savior is not direct, but through the use of instrumentalities or means. There is always something coming between the purifying blood and ourselves, by which the efficacy of that blood is applied to our souls. Christ has appointed certain instruments and agencies to convey to us the purifying elements. First of all is the cedar stem of his word, durable, fragrant, and instinct with celestial power and life, speaking through all the visible creation, but much more distinctly and powerfully in the written Scriptures. Along with this, and fastened to it, is the scarlet wool of the holy sacraments, absorbing, as it were, the whole substance of Christ crucified, and performing an important part in the impartation of the same to our souls. And along with this scarlet wool, and bound to the same stem, are the many little aromatic stems of prayer, with the sanctifying blood running out and hanging in drops on every point, ready to flow upon and cleanse the humble worshipper. Whether any other means are included in these symbols, I do not know; but these certainly are; and by these, above everything else, is the purifying blood of Jesus brought in contact with our hearts, and made effectual to our purification. These are the glorious channels of saving health to unclean souls. Let a man exercise himself well in the Divine word; let him make his heart familiar with what is there given for his learning; let him know and believe the truth as it is in Jesus, and it will be in him a fountain of purity springing up into everlasting life. Let him attend devoutly to the appointed sacraments, and he will find that word mellowing into still greater adaptation to his wants, and drawing to him in more vivid closeness and power. And let him be diligent and earnest in his prayers, and be found at his wonted times bowed at the feet of his great High-priest in heaven; and there will be all necessary connection and communion with that blood which cleanseth from all sin. To these comes the mystic Spirit of God, viewless as the wind, silent as the grave, but mighty as omnipotence, breathing through all, working in all, making all alive with celestial vigor, reviving, cheering, sanctifying, blessing, and bringing back the lost to life, and home, and heaven. How simple, and yet how beautiful! How easy, and yet how effective! Conceive, if you can, of a polar winter—cold that locks up the sea—darkness that is perpetual—on everything the white shroud and silence of death. It is the picture of the moral estate of him who has never been reached by these sanctifying appliances. Conceive, now, of the breaking up of that forbidding scene. The snows melt on their hills; the ice breaks from the seas; the sun forgets to set; the buried earth rises out of its cold shroud; the sea ebbs and flows in joyous freedom; life springs up in the valleys; the wild winds change their savage roar for balmy melody; and the harsh north lays by its fierceness and lies down as a gentle lamb in the continuous sunshine. It is the picture of the sinner passed from death to life. And what has done it? Nothing but one aspect of that law which causes this book to rest upon my hand — the turning of a little wheel in the clock-work of material things. The north turned away from its sovereign in the heavens; and there was cold, darkness, and death. It turned back again; and there was genial warmth, and light, and life, and blessedness. And so, only let the sinner reverse his course, retrace his steps, and turn himself Godward in these simple means; and a hallowing peace and light shall arise upon him, at which his inmost soul will sing, and angels themselves rejoice. III. A third requirement for the leper's cleansing was, that he should "wash his clothes, and shave off all his hair, and wash himself in water." This was his own work. It was to be done by the leper himself. Its spiritual significance is easily understood. It refers to the sinner's repentance and reformation. He must cleanse himself from all his old and base surroundings. He must separate between himself and everything suspicious. Though the leper was cured, his disease might still adhere to his clothes; he had therefore to wash them. Though clean of his leprosy in every other part, it might still have some hidden symptoms under the hair; he had therefore to shave it all off, even his very eyebrows. There was to be a perfect separation made between himself and the uncleanness which was formerly upon him. To be truly sanctified, we must cut ourselves off from all unholy associations and suspicious honors. We must break up all our old sinful habits, and relinquish all false ways. As the prophet expresses it, we must "cease to do evil, and learn to do well." He that sinned, must sin no more. There must be a complete reform.

A man from another church remarked to me some time ago, that he thought there was one great deficiency in many of the pulpits of modern times; that the preachers make too much of faith, and not enough of repentance; that our professed Christians are too forward to trust in Christ without a sufficient surrender of themselves to obey Christ; and that the way to heaven is often held forth as so simple and easy, that people are not impressed as they should be with the necessity of a change in the whole manner of life. I will not say how far he was correct. But this I will say, If our religion is not powerful enough to work a complete revolution in our lives, leading us to obey and follow Christ as well as to expect salvation through him, it will avail us nothing before God. Mistaken souls, that dream of heaven,

And make their empty boast

Of inward joys and sins forgiven,

While they are slaves to lust!

Vain are our fancies, airy flights,

If faith be cold and dead;

None but a living power unites

To Christ, the living Head.

A faith that changes all the heart;

A faith that works by love;

That bids all sinful joys depart,

And lifts the thoughts above.

Faith must obey our Father's will,

As well as trust his grace;

A pardoning God is jealous still

For his own holiness.

"Not every one that saith, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of the Father which is in heaven." "Whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed." Religion is not mere sentiment.

'Tis not to cry, God mercy, or to sit

And droop, or to confess that thou hast failed

'Tis to bewail the sins thou didst commit,

And not commit those sins thou hast bewailed.

He that bewails, and not forsakes them too,

Confesses rather what he means to do.

The command is, "Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes."

"Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling."

IV. But there is another particular entering into this ritual cleansing. After everything else had been done, sacrifices were to be offered. I need not enter into the details of this part of the service, as they were very fully before us in the first chapters. The general signification of them, in this connection, is, that our sanctification, from beginning to end, depends upon "the blood of the Lamb." We must wash, and repent, and reform; but it avails nought without blood. Water, the purest that ever dropped from mossy rock, or gushed from the mountain spring, is not able to cleanse a man for heaven. Tears of repentance, though pure as those which trickled down the Savior's cheeks, cannot wash out the stains of sin, except they be mingled with the blood that dripped from his wounds. And no moral improvements can entitle us to eternity's honors, if they are not connected with the suretyship and sacrifice of Jesus. The source of all sanctification is in his death and resurrection. All the glories of eternal life, still refer us back to Calvary. Grace in Christ Jesus commenced the work, and grace in Christ Jesus must complete it.

Grace all the work shall crown,

Through everlasting days;

It lays in heaven the topmost stone,

And well deserves the praise.

The only peculiarity which I notice here, is, that some of the blood and oil was to be touched to the cleansed leper, the same as in the consecration of the priests. The record says, "The priest shall take some of the blood of the trespass-offering, and put it upon the right ear of him that is to be cleansed, and upon the thumb of his right hand, and upon the great toe of his right foot;" and the same with regard to the oil. This completed his cleansing, and joined him to the chosen people in all their privileges and obligations. It points to the very culmination and crown of Christian sanctity. The blood of the trespass offering stands for the blood of Christ, and the holy oil for the Holy Spirit. These are the two great consecrating elements of Christianity. With these our High-priest approaches us through the Gospel to complete our cleansing and ordain us to the dignities and duties of our spiritual calling. With this blood and chrism applied to us, we are clean, and set apart as "a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people," to "show forth the praises of him who hath called us out of darkness to his marvellous light." And this blood and unction are thus applied, when we have fully submitted ourselves to Jesus, and given up to be what he desires to make us.

The grand peculiarity of a Christian, and that which sums up everything else respecting him, is, that he no longer looks upon himself as his own, but as bought with a price, and marked by redeeming blood, and gifts of anointing, to be the Lord's. His head and ears are consecrated. His hands and his feet are consecrated. His whole being is set apart to a holy calling, no longer to be given to selfishness or sin. In the entire bent and purpose of his mind, by force of the blood that was shed for him, and the Spirit that is poured upon him, he is brought clean out of the region and shadow of death, made a part of the congregation of saints, and divorced from all alliances foreign to the theocratic kingdom and the commonwealth of Israel. Expatriated from the realms of darkness, he has become a child of light, whose citizenship is in heaven. He is joined to the camp of God, united to the general assembly—the Church of the first-born, made up to share its fate. His whole interest is embarked with the cause of righteousness. Like the trusting Moabitess of the olden time, his vow is, "Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." Jesus has laid his hand upon him, and said—"Thou art mine; therefore thou shalt observe to do whatsoever I have commanded, and verily thou shalt have thy reward." "Be it so," is the deep and firm response of his soul; "be it unto me according to thy word." It is enough. With this all the hopes, and joys, and dignities of the saints are his. He is clean. Like the scape-dove in the text, once a captive and in danger of death, he now is free. His soul may spread its wings, and rise above the common world, and soar away to salvation's sunny hills, and make its nest in the everlasting mountains, "bearing about with it the dying of the Lord Jesus." And when we contemplate the portion of such a soul bounding away, like that liberated bird, to everlasting life, how fitting comes in the Psalmist's wish—"O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest."

V. There is one point more in these ceremonies to which I will call your attention. I refer to the time which they required. A leper could by no possibility get through with his cleansing under seven days. One day was enough to admit him into the camp; but seven full days were requisite to admit him to his home. There was therefore a complete period of time necessary to the entireness of his cleansing. This arrangement was not accidental. It has its full typical significance. It refers to the fact, that no one is completely sanctified in the present life; and that a complete period of time must ensue before we reach the rest to which our cleansing entitles us. Christians now are only in course of cleansing. Recovery has commenced. Leprosy has been stayed. The priest has declared the disease conquered. Its offensive humors have all disappeared. We are absolved and justified. The blood of purification has been sprinkled upon us. We have washed our clothes by repentance and reform. We have been admitted to the camp. We are numbered with the people of God. Our names are written in heaven. We have made great advances on what we were whilst rotting in our leprosy. We have attained unto very high honors. We have secured very exalted privileges. But everything has not yet been done, and all our disabilities are not yet removed. Great services yet remain to take place when the seven days have elapsed. And until then we must patiently wait. The influences of sin still linger about the old tenement, and we must suffer the consequences of it until the term of this present dispensation ends. Then shall our High-priest come forth again, and "change our vile bodies, and fashion them like unto his own glorious body." The last lurking places of defilement shall then be cut off. The last act of the leper's cleansing was to shave off his hair. When that was done, he entered upon all the high services of the Tabernacle, and went to his home a saved man. Some look upon death as the end of man. They think that there is no more of him after he has been consigned to the tomb. A grain of seed dies, and shoots forth a new body and a new harvest; the caterpillar dies, and gives being to the butterfly from the elements of his decay; the day dies, and breaks forth into a new dawn; the year dies, and nature lies dead in her white winding sheet, and then bursts into fresh vigor from her wintry grave; and yet, when man dies, they say it is an eternal sleep—a complete extinction! It is not so. Death is our only proper birth. Then first we are to enter upon the true realities of life. Nature knows no such thing as an eternal sleep. Sleep always implies a future awakening. And if death is a sleep at all, it cannot be eternal. It is but the repose of the night that is soon to issue in eternal day. Death in itself has nothing pleasant in it. It was not an agreeable thing for the leper to have all his hair shaved off from his entire body. It was in itself a great humiliation and dishonor. But in that he received the completion of his liberty. It is sad to see the cheek of a friend grow pale and sunken, and his smile give place to the signs of anguish, and his strong limbs become powerless, and the sick look creep over his flashing eye, and his tongue grow heavy in his mouth, and the work of death going on in his manly form, and his whole visible being turning to offensive corruption. It makes us shudder and weep. It is a melancholy humiliation of the glory of man. But in that very waste and decay he is being born to everlasting vigor. It is his birth to immortality. It is the last of his disabilities. From that sad scene he passes to his home. There is, after all, something bright and joyous connected with the gloom of death. It comes to break the chains of the prisoner; to bring the exile home; to cleanse away the last remains of sin; to lead the ransomed spirit to its rest; to house us with the loving and beloved in the bright mansions of the Father's house. Death is the crown of life.

Were death denied, poor man would live in vain.

Were death denied, to live would not be life.

All hail, then, to the Gospel which sheds such light upon the mystery of death! All hail to the hopes which bloom upon a Christian's grave! These dark and gloomy doors lead to the land of bliss. These little hillocks, under which our babes and fathers sleep, are but the mountain peaks of another and better world. The king of terrors is a messenger of peace. And connecting death with the resurrection which is to follow it, earth knows of no sublimer transition.

Brethren, we must die. The seven days of life are fast passing away. Very soon we shall sleep our last sleep. It may sadden us and make us shudder to think of it. It requires grace to look calmly on the tomb. But, along with this is another thought—a thrilling thought—that some of these times we shall sleep, and when we open our eyes, we shall say—"What pearly gates are these? What jasper walls, what golden streets, what splendid palaces, are these? What immortal trees, what crystal streams, what amaranthine bowers, are these? Lo! the white-robed hosts that sing redemption's songs! Lo! the King in his beauty, with his everlasting thrones! O! the beatific vision! What a blessed place! Is not this heaven? Can it be a dream? Verily, this is heaven! Heaven—heaven—heaven! HALLELUIA FOR EVER! I AM AT HOME IN HEAVEN!" 23*