“Now in the things which we are saying the chief point is this: We
have such a High-priest, Who sat down on the right hand of the
throne of the Majesty in the heavens, a Minister of the sanctuary,
and of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, not man. For
every high-priest is appointed to offer both gifts and sacrifices:
wherefore it is necessary that this High-priest also have somewhat
to offer. Now if He were on earth, He would not be a Priest at all,
seeing there are those who offer the gifts according to the Law; who
serve that which is a copy and shadow of the heavenly things, even
as Moses is warned of God when he is about to make the tabernacle:
for, See, saith He, that thou make all things according to the
pattern that was showed thee in the mount. But now hath He obtained
a ministry the more excellent, by how much also He is the Mediator
of a better covenant, which hath been enacted upon better
promises.”—Heb. viii. 1–6 (R.V.).
The Apostle has interpreted the beautiful story of Melchizedek with
wonderful felicity and force. The point of the whole Epistle, he now
tells us, lies there. He has brought forth the headstone of the corner, the keystone of the
arch.[142]
It is, in short, that we have such a
High-priest. Country, holy city, ark of the covenant, all are lost. But
if we have the High-priest, all are restored to us in a better and more
enduring form. Jesus is the High-priest and King. He has taken His seat
once for all, as King, on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty,
and, as Priest, is also Minister of the sanctuary and of the true
tabernacle. The indefinite and somewhat unusual term “minister” or
“public servant”[143]
is intentionally chosen, partly to emphasise the
contrast between Christ’s kingly dignity and His priestly service,
partly because the author wishes to explain at greater length
in what
Christ’s actual work as High-priest in heaven consists. For Christ’s
heavenly glory is a life of service, not of selfish gratification. Every
high-priest serves.[144]
He is appointed for no other purpose than to
offer gifts and sacrifices. The Apostle’s readers admitted that Christ
was High-priest. But they were forgetting that, as such, He too must
necessarily minister and have something which He can offer. Our theology
is still in like danger. We are sometimes prone to regard Christ’s life
in heaven as only a state of exaltation and power, and, consequently, to
speak more of the saints’ happiness than of their service. It is the
natural result of superficial theories of the Atonement that little
practical use is made by many Christians of the truth of Christ’s
priestly intercession. The debt has been paid, the debtor discharged,
and the transaction ended. Christ’s present activity towards God is
acknowledged and—neglected. Protestants are confirmed in this baneful
worldliness of conception by their just desire to keep at a safe
distance from the error in the opposite extreme: that Christ presents to
God the Church’s sacrifices of the mass.
The truth lies midway between two errors. On the one hand, Christ’s intercession
is not itself the making or constituting of a sacrifice; on the other, it is not
mere pleading and prayer. The sacrifice was made
and completed on the Cross, as the victims were slain in the outer
court. But it was through the blood of those victims the high-priest had
authority to enter the holiest place; and when he had entered, he must
sprinkle the warm blood, and so present the sacrifice to God. Similarly
Christ must enter a sanctuary in order to present the sacrifice slain on
Calvary. The words of the Apostle John, “We have an Advocate with the
Father,” express only one side of the truth. But he adds the other side
of the conception in the same verse, “And He is the propitiation,” which
is a very different thing from saying, “His death was the propitiation.”
But what sanctuary shall He enter? He could not approach the holiest
place in the earthly temple. For if He were on earth, He would not be a
Priest at all, seeing there are men ordained by the Law to offer the appointed gifts on
earth.[145]
The Jewish priests have satisfied and
exhausted the idea of an earthly priesthood. Even Melchizedek could not
found an order. If he may be regarded as an attempt to acclimatise on
earth the priesthood of personal greatness, the attempt was a failure.
It always fails, though it is always renewed. On earth there can be no
order of goodness. When a great saint appears among men,
he is but a
bird of passage, and is not to be found, because God has translated him.
If it is so of His saints, what of Christ? Christ on earth through the
ages? Impossible! And what is impossible to-day will be equally
inconceivable at any point of time in the future. A correct conception
of Christ’s priestly intercession is inconsistent with the dream of a
reign of Christ on earth. It may, or may not, be consistent with His
kingly office. But His priesthood forbids. We infer that Christ has
transformed the heaven of glory into the holiest place of a temple, and
the throne of God into a shrine before which He, as High-priest,
presents His sacrifice.
The Jewish priesthood itself teaches the existence of a heavenly
sanctuary.[146]
All the arrangements of tabernacle and ritual were made
after a pattern shown to Moses on Mount Sinai. The priests, in the
tabernacle and through their ritual, ministered to the holiest place, as
the visible image and outline of the real holiest place—that is,
heaven—which the Lord pitched, not man.
Now Christ’s more excellent ministry as High-priest in heaven carries in
its bosom all that the Apostle contends for,—the establishment of a new
covenant which has set aside for ever the covenant of the Law. “He has
obtained a ministry the more excellent
by how much He is the Mediator
of a better covenant.”[147]
These words contain in a nutshell the entire
argument, or series of arguments, that extends from the sixth verse of
the eighth chapter to the eighteenth verse of the tenth. The course of
thought may be divided as follows:—
1. That the Lord intends to establish a new covenant is first of all
shown by a citation from the prophet Jeremiah (viii. 7–13).
2. A description of the tabernacle and of the entrance of the priests
and high-priests into it teaches that the way into the holiest place was
not yet open to men. This is contrasted with the entering of Christ into
heaven through His own blood, which proves that He has obtained for us
an eternal redemption and is Mediator of a new covenant, founded on His
death (ix. 1–18).
3. The frequent entering of the high-priest into the holiest place is
contrasted with the one death of Christ and His entering heaven once.
This proves the power of His sacrifice and intercession to bring in the
better covenant and set aside the former one (ix. 25–x. 18).
“For if that first covenant had been faultless, then would no place
have been sought for a second. For finding fault with them, He
saith,
Behold, the days come, saith the Lord,
That I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah;
Not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers
In the day that I took them by the hand to lead them forth out of the land of Egypt;
For they continued not in My covenant,
And I regarded them not, saith the Lord.
For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel
After those days, saith the Lord;
I will put My laws into their mind,
And on their heart also will I write them:
And I will be to them a God,
And they shall be to Me a people:
And they shall not teach every man his fellow-citizen,
And every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord:
For all shall know Me,
From the least to the greatest of them.
For I will be merciful to their iniquities,
And their sins will I remember no more.
In that He saith, A new covenant, He hath made the first old. But
that which is becoming old and waxeth aged is nigh unto vanishing
away.”—Heb. viii. 7–13 (R.V.).
The more spiritual men under the dispensation of law anticipated a new
and better era. The Psalmist had spoken of another day, and prophesied
of the appearance of a Priest after the order of Melchizedek and a Son
of David Who would also be David’s Lord. But Jeremiah is very bold, and
says[148]
that the covenant itself on which the hope of his nation hangs
will pass away, and his dream of a more spiritual covenant,
established
on better promises, will at some distant day come true. It is well to
bear in mind that this discontent with the present order lodged in the
hearts, not of the worst, but of the best and greatest, sons of Judaism.
It was the salt of their character, the life of their inspiration, the
message of their prophecy. In days of national distress and despair,
this star shone the brighter for the darkness. The terrible shame of the
Captivity and the profound agony that followed it were lit up with the
glorious vision of a better future in store for the people of God. On
the quivering lips of the prophet that “sat weeping,” as he is described
in the Septuagint,[149]
this strong hope found utterance. He had washed
the dust of worldliness from his eyes with tears, and, therefore, saw
more clearly than the men of his time the threatened downfall of Judah
and the bright dawn beyond. In reading his prophecy of the new covenant
we almost cease to wonder that some persons thought Jesus was Jeremiah
risen from the dead. The prophet’s words have the same ring of undaunted
cheerfulness, of intense compassion, of prophetic faith; and Christ, as
well as the Apostle, cites His prediction that all shall be taught of
God.[150]
Jeremiah blames the people.[151]
But the Apostle infers that the
covenant itself was not faultless, inasmuch as the prophet seeks, in his
censure of the people, to make room for another covenant. We have
already been told that there was on earth no room for the priesthood of
Christ.[152]
Similarly, in the sphere of earthly nationality, there was
no room for a covenant other than that which God had made with His
people Israel when He brought them out of the land of Egypt. But the
earthly priesthood could not give efficacy to its ministering, and thus
room is found for a heavenly priesthood. So also, the covenant on which
the earthly priesthood rested being inadequate, the prophet makes room
for the introduction of a new and better covenant.
Now the peculiar character of the old covenant was that it dealt with
men in the aggregate which we call the nation. Nationalism is the
distinctive feature of the old world, within the precincts of Judaism
and among the peoples of heathendom. Even the prophets could not see the
spiritual truth, which they themselves foretold, except through the
medium of nationality. The Messiah was the national king idealised, even
when He was a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. In the passage
before us the prophet Jeremiah speaks of God’s promise to write His law
on the heart as made to the house of Judah and the house of Israel, as
if he
were not aware that, in so speaking, he was really contradicting
himself. For the blessing promised was a spiritual and, consequently,
personal one, with which nationality cannot possibly have any sort of
connection. It is a matter of profound joy to every lover of his people
to witness and share in the uprising of a national consciousness. Some
among us are beginning to know now for the first time that a national
ideal is possible in thought, and sentiment, and life. But there must
not, cannot, be a nationality in religion. A moral law in the heart does
not recognise the quality of the blood that circulates through. This
truth the prophets strove to utter, often in vain. Yet the breaking up
of the nation into Judah and Israel helped to dispel the illusion. The
loss of national independence prepared for the universalism of Jesus
Christ and St. Paul. Now also, when an epistle is written to the Hebrew
Christians, the threatened extinction of nationality drives men to seek
the bond of union in a more stable covenant, which will save them, if
anything can, from the utter collapse of all religious fellowship and
civil society. It is the glory of Christianity that it creates the
individual and at the same moment keeps perfectly clear of
individualism. Its blessings are personal, but they imply a covenant. If
nationalism has been dethroned, individualism has not climbed to the
vacant seat. How it achieves this great result will
be understood from
an examination of Jeremiah’s prophecy.
The new covenant deals with the same fundamental conceptions which
dominated the former one. These are the moral law, knowledge of God, and
forgiveness of sin. So far the two dispensations are one. Because these
great conceptions lie at the root of all human goodness, religion is
essentially the same thing under both covenants. There is a sense in
which St. Augustine was right in speaking of the saints under the old
Testament as “Christians before Christ.” Judaism and Christianity stand
shoulder to shoulder over against the religious ideas and practices of
all the heathen nations of the world. But in Judaism these sublime
conceptions are undeveloped. Nationalism dwarfs their growth. They are
like seeds falling on the thorns, and the thorns grow up and choke them.
God, therefore, spoke unto the Jews in parables, in types and shadows.
Seeing, they saw not; and hearing, they heard not, neither did they
understand.
Because the former covenant was a national one, the conceptions of the
moral law, of God, of sin and its forgiveness, would be narrow and
external. The moral law would be embedded in the national code. God
would be revealed in the history of the nation. Sin would consist either
in faults of ignorance and inadvertence or in national apostasy from the
theocratic
King. In these three respects the new covenant excels,—in
respect, that is, of the moral law, knowledge of God, and forgiveness of
sin, which yet may be justly regarded as the three sides of the
revelation given under the former covenant.
1. The moral law will either forget its own holiness, righteousness, and
goodness, and degenerate into national rules of conduct, or else, by the
innate force of its spirituality, create in men a consciousness of sin
and a strong desire for reconciliation with God. Men will resist, and,
when resistance is vain, will chafe against its terrible strength. “The
Law came in beside, that the trespass might
abound.”[153] But it often
happens that guilt of conscience is the alarum that awakens moral
self-consciousness out of sleep, never to fall asleep again when
holiness has found entrance into the soul. Beyond this the old covenant
advanced not a step. The promise of the new covenant is to put the Law
into the mind, not in an ark of shittim wood, and to write it in the
heart, not on tables of stone. The Law was given on Sinai as an external
commandment; it is put into the mind as a knowledge of moral truth. It
was written on the two tables in the weakness of the letter; on the
heart it is written as a principle and a power of obedience. The power
of God to command
becomes the strength of man to obey. In this way the
new covenant realises what the former covenant demanded. The new
covenant is the old covenant transformed, made spiritual. God is become
the God of His people; and this was the promise of the former covenant.
They are no more children, as they were when God took them by the hand
and led them out of the land of Egypt. Instead of the external guidance,
they have the unction within, and know all things. Renewed in the spirit
of their mind, they put on the new man, which after God is created in
righteousness and the holiness of truth.
2. So also of knowing God. The moral attributes of the Most High are
revealed under the former covenant, and the God of the Old Testament is
the God of the New. Abraham knows Him as the everlasting God. Elisha
understands that there is no darkness or shadow of death where the
workers of iniquity may hide themselves. Balaam declares that God is not
a man that He should lie. The Psalmist confesses to God that he cannot
flee from His presence. The father of believers fears not to ask, “Shall
not the Judge of the earth do right?” Moses recognises that the Lord is
longsuffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression.
Isaiah hears the seraphim crying one to another, “Holy, holy, holy, is
the Lord of hosts.” But nationalism distorted the image.
The conception
of God’s Fatherhood is most indistinct. When, however, Christ taught His
disciples to say in prayer, “Our Father,” He could then at once add the
words “Who art in heaven.” The spirit of man rose immediately with a
mighty upheaval above the narrow bounds of nationalism. The attributes
of God became more lofty as well as more amiable to the eyes of His
children. The God of a nation is not great enough to be our Father. The
God Who is our Father is God in heaven.
Not only are God’s attributes revealed, but the faculty to know Him is
also bestowed. The moral law and a heart to love it are the two elements
of a knowledge of God’s nature. For God Himself is holiness and love. In
vain will men cry one to another, saying, “Know the Lord.” As well might
they bid the blind behold the light, or the wicked love purity.
Knowledge of nature can be taught. It can be parcelled in propositions,
carried about, and handed to others. But the character of God is not a
notion, and cannot be taught as a lesson or in a creed, however true the
creed may be. The two opposite ends of all our knowledge are our
sensations and God. In one respect the two are alike. Knowledge of them
cannot be conveyed in words.
3. The only thing concerning God that can be known by a man who is not
holy himself is that He will punish
the impenitent, and can forgive.
These are objective facts. They may be announced to the world, and
believed. In the history of all holy men, under the Old Testament as
well as under the New, they are their first lesson in spiritual
theology. To say that penitent sinners under the Law could not be
absolved from guilt or taste the sweetness of God’s forgiving grace must
be false. St. Paul himself, who describes the Law as a covenant that
“gendereth to bondage,” cites the words of the Psalmist, “Blessed is he
whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered,” to prove that
God imputes righteousness without
works.[154]
When the Apostle Peter was declaring that all the prophets witness to Jesus Christ,
that through His name whosoever believeth in Him shall receive remission of sins, the
Holy Ghost fell on all who heard the word. The very promise which
Jeremiah says will be fulfilled under the future covenant Isaiah claims
for his own days: “I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions
for Mine own sake, and will not remember thy
sins.”[155]
On the other hand, it is equally plain that St. Paul and the author of
this Epistle agree in teaching that the sacrifices of the old covenant
had in them no virtue to remove guilt. They cannot take away sin, and
they cannot remove the consciousness of
sin.[156]
The writer evidently
considers it sufficient to state the impossibility, without labouring to
prove it. His readers’ consciences would bear him out in the assertion
that it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take
away sins.
It remains—and it is the only supposition left to us—that peace of
conscience must have been the result of another revelation, simultaneous
with the covenant of the Law, but differing from it in purpose and
instruments. Such a revelation would be given through the prophets, who
stood apart as a distinct order from the priesthood. They were the
preachers. They quickened conscience, and spoke of God’s hatred of sin
and willingness to forgive. Every advance in the revelation came through
the prophets, not through the priests. The latter represent the
stationary side of the covenant, but the prophets hold before the eyes
of men the idea of progress. What, then, was the weakness of prophecy in
reference to forgiveness of sin when compared with the new covenant? The
prophets predicted a future redemption. This was their strength. It was
also their weakness. For that future was not balanced by an equally
great past. However glorious the history of the nation had been, it was
not strong enough to bear the weight of so transcendent a future. Every
nation that believes in the greatness of its own future already
possesses a great past. If not, it
creates one. Mythology and
hero-worship are the attempt of a people to erect their future on a
sufficient foundation. But men had not experienced anything great enough
to inspire them with a living faith in the reality of the promises which
the prophets announced. Sin had not been atoned for. The Christian
preacher can point to the wonderful but well-assured facts of the life
and death of Jesus Christ. If he could not do this, or if he neglects to
do it, feeble and unreal will sound his proclamation of the terrors and
joys of the world to come. The Gospel has for one of its primary objects
to appease the guilty conscience. How it achieves this purpose our
author will tell us in another chapter. For the present all we learn is
that knowledge of God is knowledge of His moral nature, and that this
knowledge belongs to the man whose moral consciousness has been
quickened. The evangelical doctrine that the source of holiness is
thankfulness was well meant, as an antidote to legalism on the one hand
and to Antinomianism on the other. The sinner, we were told, once
redeemed from the curse of the Law and delivered from the danger of
perdition, begins to love the Christ Who redeemed and saved him. The
doctrine contains a truth, and is applicable to this extent; that he to
whom much is forgiven loveth much. But it would not be true to say that
all good men have sought God’s
forgiveness because they feared hell
torments. To some their guilt is their hell. Fear is too narrow a
foundation of holiness. We cannot explain saintliness by mere gratitude.
For “thankfulness” we must write “conscience,” and substitute
forgiveness and absolution from guilt for safety from future misery, if
we would lay a foundation broad and firm enough on which to erect the
sublimest holiness of man.
Our author infers from the words of Jeremiah that there was an inherent
decay in the former covenant. It was itself ready to vanish away, and
make room for a new and more spiritual
one.[157]
“Now even the first covenant had ordinances of divine service, and
its sanctuary, a sanctuary of this world. For there was a tabernacle
prepared, the first, wherein were the candlestick, and the table,
and the shewbread; which is called the Holy place. And after the
second veil, the tabernacle which is called the Holy of holies;
having a golden censer, and the ark of the covenant overlaid round
about with gold, wherein was a golden pot holding the manna, and
Aaron’s rod that budded, and the tables of the covenant; and above
it cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy-seat; of which we
cannot now speak severally. Now these things having been thus
prepared, the priests go in continually into the first tabernacle,
accomplishing the services; but into the second the high-priest
alone, once in the year, not without blood, which he offereth for
himself, and for the errors of the people: the Holy Ghost this
signifying, that the way into the holy place hath not yet been made
manifest, while as the first tabernacle is yet standing; which is a
parable for the time now present; according to which are
offered
both gifts and sacrifices that cannot, as touching the conscience,
make the worshipper perfect, being only (with meats and drinks and
divers washings) carnal ordinances, imposed until a time of
reformation. But Christ having come a High-priest of the good things
to come, through the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made
with hands, that is to say, not of this creation, nor yet through
the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, entered in
once for all into the holy place, having obtained eternal
redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the ashes of a
heifer sprinkling them that have been defiled, sanctify unto the
cleanness of the flesh: how much more shall the blood of Christ, Who
through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish unto God,
cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living
God?”—Heb. ix. 1–14 (R.V.).
With the words of a prophet the Apostle contrasts the ritual of the
priests. Jeremiah prophesied of a better covenant, because he found the
former one did not satisfy conscience. A description of the tabernacle,
its furniture and ordinances of Divine service, follows. At first it
appears strange that the author should have thought it necessary to
enumerate in detail what the tabernacle contained. But to infer that he
is a Hellenist, to whom the matter had all the charm of novelty, would
be very precarious. His purpose is to show that the way of the holiest
was not yet open. The tabernacle consisted of two chambers: the foremost
and larger of the two, called the sanctuary, and an inner one, called
the holiest of all. Now the sanctuary had its furniture and stated
rites. It was not a mere vestibule or passage leading to the holiest.
The eighth verse, literally rendered, expresses that the outer sanctuary
“held a position.”[158]
Its furniture was for daily use. The
candelabrum supported the seven lamps, which gave light to the
ministering priests. The shewbread, laid on the table in rows of twelve
cakes, was eaten by Aaron and his sons. Into this chamber the priests
went always, accomplishing the daily services. Moreover, between the
holy place and the holiest of all hung a thick veil. Into the holiest
the high-priest only was permitted to enter, and he could only enter on
the annual day of atonement. This chamber also had its proper furniture.
To it belonged[159]
the altar of incense (for so we must read in the
fourth verse, instead of “golden censer”), although its actual place was
in the outer sanctuary. It stood in front of the veil that the
high-priest might take the incense from it, without which he was not
permitted to enter the holiest; and when he came out, he sprinkled it
with blood as he had sprinkled the holiest place itself. In the inner
chamber stood the ark of the covenant, containing the pot of manna,
Aaron’s rod that budded, and the two tables of stone on which the Ten
Commandments were written. On the ark was the mercy-seat, and above the
mercy-seat were the cherubim. But there were no lamps to give light;
there was no shewbread for food. The glory of the Lord filled it,
and
was the light thereof. When the high-priest had performed the atoning
rites, he was not permitted to stay within. It is evident that
reconciliation through blood was the idea symbolized by the holiest
place, its furniture, and the yearly rite performed within it. But the
veil and the outer chamber stood between the sinful people and the
mercy-seat. Our author ascribes this arrangement of the two chambers,
the veil, and the one entrance every year of the high-priest into the
inner shrine, to the Holy Spirit, Who teaches men by
symbol[160] that
the way to God is not yet open. But He also teaches them through the
ordinances of the outer sanctuary that access to God is a necessity of
conscience, and yet that the gifts and sacrifices there offered cannot
satisfy conscience, resting, as they do, only on meats and drinks and
divers washings. All we can say of them is that they were the
requirements of natural conscience, here termed “flesh,” and that these
demands of human consciousness of guilt were sanctioned and imposed on
men by God provisionally, until the time came for restoring permanently
the long-lost peace between God and men.
Contrast with all this the ministry of Christ. He made His appearance on
earth as High-priest of the things which have now at length come to
us.[161]
The
blessings prophesied by Jeremiah have been realised. As High-priest He
entered the true holiest place, a tabernacle greater and more perfect, even heaven
itself.[162]
It is greater; that is, larger.
The outer sanctuary has ceased to exist, because the veil has been rent
in twain, and the holy place has been taken into the holiest place. The
tabernacle has now only one chamber, and in that chamber God meets all
His worshipping saints, who come to Him through and with Jesus, the
High-priest. The tabernacle of God is with men, and He shall dwell, as in the
tabernacle, with them, and they shall be His peoples, and God Himself shall be with
them.[163]
Yea, the holiest place has spread
itself over Mount Zion, on which stood the king’s palace, and over the
whole city of Jerusalem, which lieth four-square, and is become the
heavenly and holy city, having no temple, because the Lord God Almighty
and the Lamb are the temple thereof. “And the city hath no need of the
sun, neither of the moon, to shine upon it; for the glory of God
lightens it, and the lamp thereof is the Lamb.” The city and the holiest
place are commensurate. So large, indeed, is the holiest that the
nations shall walk amidst the light thereof. It is also more
perfect.[164]
For Christ has entered into the presence
of God for us.
Such a tabernacle is not constructed of the materials of this
world,[165]
nor fashioned with the hands of cunning artificers, Bezaleel
and Aholiab. When Christ destroyed the sanctuary made with hands, in
three days He built another made without hands. In a true sense it is
not made at all, not even by the hands of Him Who built all things; for
it is essentially God’s presence. Into this holiest place Christ
entered, to appear in the immediate presence of God. But the Apostle is
not satisfied with saying that He entered within. Ten thousand times ten
thousand of His saints will do this. He has done more. He went
through[166]
the holiest. He has passed through the
heavens.[167] He
has been made higher than the
heavens.[168]
He has taken His seat on the right hand of
God.[169]
The Melchizedek Priest has ascended to the
mercy-seat and made it His throne. He is Himself henceforth the
shechinah, and the manifested glory of the unseen Father. All this is
expressed in the words “through a greater and more perfect tabernacle.”
Moreover, the high-priest entered into the holiest place in virtue of the blood of goats and
calves.[170]
Add, if you will, the ceremony of cleansing a person who had
contracted defilement by touching a dead
body.[171]
He also was cleansed by having the ashes of a heifer
sprinkled upon his flesh. Why, the very defilement is unreal and
artificial. To touch a dead body a sin! It may have been well to make it
a crime from sanitary considerations, and it may become a sin because
God has forbidden it. So far it touched conscience. When Elijah
stretched himself upon the dead child of the widow of Zarephath three
times, and the soul of the child came into him again, or when Elisha put
his mouth upon the mouth of the dead son of the Shunammite, his eyes
upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands, and the flesh of the child
waxed warm, God’s holy prophet was defiled! The mother and the child
might bring their thank-offering to the sanctuary; but the prophet, who
had done the deed of power and mercy, was excluded from joining in
thanksgiving and prayer. If the defilement is unreal, what shall we
think of the means of cleansing? To touch a dead child defiles, but the
touch of the ashes of a burnt heifer cleanses! Yet natural conscience
felt guilty when thus defiled, and recovered itself, in some measure,
from its shame when thus made
clean.[172]
Such men resemble the persons, referred to by St. Paul, who have “a conscience of the
idol.”[173]
Judaism enfeebled
the conscience. A man of morbid religious sentiment
is often defiled in his own eyes by what is not really wrong, and often
finds peace and comfort in what is not really a propitiation or a
forgiveness.
On the other hand, Christ entered the true holiest place by His own
blood. He offered Himself. The High-priest is the sacrifice. Under the
old covenant the victim must be “without spot.” But the high-priest was
not without blemish, and he offered for himself as well as for the
errors of the people. But in the offering of Christ, the spotless purity
of the Victim ensures that the High-priest Himself is holy, harmless,
undefiled, separate from sinners. For this reason it is said
here[174]
that He offered Himself “through an eternal spirit,” or, as we should
say in modern phrase, “through His eternal personality.” He is the
High-priest after the order of Melchizedek; and He invests the sacrifice
with all the personal greatness of the High-priest. Is He “without
beginning of days or end of life”? So also His sacrifice abides for
ever. His power of an indissoluble life belongs to His atonement. Is He
untouched by the rolling stream of time? His death was of infinite merit
in reference to the past and to the future, though it took place
historically at the end of the ages. His eternal personality made it
unnecessary for Him to suffer often since the foundation of the world.
Because of His personal greatness, it sufficed that He should suffer
once only and enter once into the holiest place. The eternal High-priest
in one transitory act of death offered a sacrifice that remains
eternally, and obtains for us an eternal redemption. If, then, the blood
of goats and bulls and the ashes of an heifer appease, in some measure,
the weak, frightened conscience of unenlightened nature, how much more
shall the conscious, voluntary sacrifice of this eternal, personal Son
deliver the conscience of him who worships, not a phantom deity, but an
eternal, personal, living God, from the guilt of dead works, and bring
him to worship that living God with an eternal, living personality!
Mark the contrasted notions. The brute life, dragged to the altar,
little knowing that its hot blood is to be a propitiation for human
guilt, is contrasted with the blood of the Christ (for there is but
one), Who, with the consciousness and strength of an eternal
personality, willingly offers Himself as a sacrifice. Between these two
lives are all the lives which God created, human and angelic. Yet the
offering of a beast in some fashion and to some degree appeased
conscience, unillumined by the fierce light of God’s holiness and
untouched by the pathos of Christ’s death. With this imperfect and
negative peace, or, to speak more correctly, truce, of
conscience is
contrasted the living, eager worship of him whose enlightened conscience
has been purified from spiritual defilement by the blood of Christ. Such
a man’s entire service is worship, and his worship is the ministering of
a priest.[175]
He stands in the congregation of the righteous, and
ascends unto God’s holy hill. He enters the holiest place with Christ.
He draws near with boldness to the mercy-seat, now the very throne
itself of grace.
It will be seen, if we have rightly traced the line of thought, that the
outer sanctuary no longer exists. The larger and more perfect tabernacle
is the holiest place itself, when the veil has been removed, and the
sanctuary and courts are all included in the expanded holiest. Several
very able expositors deny this. They find an antitype of the holy place
either in the body of Christ or in the created heavens, through which He
has passed into the immediate presence of God. But this introduces
confusion, adds nothing of value to the meaning of the type, and is
inconsistent with our author’s express statement that the way into the
holiest was not yet open so long as the holy place stood.
“And for this cause He is the Mediator of a new covenant, that a
death having taken place for the redemption of the transgressions
that were
under the first covenant, they that have been called may
receive the promise of the eternal inheritance. For where a
testament is, there must of necessity be the death of him that made
it. For a testament is of force where there hath been death; for
doth it ever avail while he that made it liveth? Wherefore even the
first covenant hath not been dedicated without blood. For when every
commandment had been spoken by Moses unto all the people according
to the Law, he took the blood of the calves and the goats, with
water and scarlet wool and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book
itself, and all the people, saying, This is the blood of the
covenant which God commanded to you-ward. Moreover the tabernacle
and all the vessels of the ministry he sprinkled in like manner with
the blood. And according to the Law, I may almost say, all things
are cleansed with blood, and apart from shedding of blood there is
no remission. It was necessary therefore that the copies of the
things in the heavens should be cleansed with these; but the
heavenly things themselves with better sacrifices than these. For
Christ entered not into a holy place made with hands, like in
pattern to the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear before
the face of God for us: nor yet that He should offer Himself often;
as the high-priest entereth into the holy place year by year with
blood not his own; else must He often have suffered since the
foundation of the world: but now once at the end of the ages hath He
been manifested to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And
inasmuch as it is appointed unto men once to die, and after this
cometh judgment; so Christ also, having been once offered to bear
the sins of many, shall appear a second time, apart from sin, to
them that wait for Him, unto salvation. For the Law having a shadow
of the good things to come, not the very image of the things, they
can never with the same sacrifices year by year, which they offer
continually, make perfect them that draw nigh. Else would they not
have ceased to be offered, because the worshippers, having been once
cleansed, would have had no more conscience of sins? But in those
sacrifices there is a remembrance made of sins year by year. For
it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away
sins. Wherefore when He cometh into the world, He saith,
Sacrifice and offering Thou wouldest not,
But a body didst Thou prepare for Me:
In whole burnt offerings and sacrifices for sin Thou hadst no pleasure:
Then said I, Lo, I am come
(In the roll of the book it is written of Me)
To do Thy will, O God.
Saying above, Sacrifices and offerings and whole burnt offerings and
sacrifices for sin Thou wouldest not, neither hadst pleasure
therein (the which are offered according to the Law), then hath He
said, Lo, I am come to do Thy will. He taketh away the first, that
He may establish the second. By which will we have been sanctified
through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. And
every priest indeed standeth day by day ministering and offering
oftentimes the same sacrifices, the which can never take away sins:
but He, when He had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat
down on the right hand of God; from henceforth expecting till His
enemies be made the footstool of His feet. For by one offering He
hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified. And the Holy Ghost
also beareth witness to us: for after He hath said,
This is the covenant that I will make with them
After those days, saith the Lord;
I will put My laws on their heart,
And upon their mind also will I write them;
then saith He,
And their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.
Now where remission of these is, there is no more offering for
sin.”—Heb. ix. 15–x. 18 (R.V.).
The Apostle has proved that a new covenant was promised through the
prophet and prefigured in the tabernacle. Christ is come to earth and
entered into the holiest place of God, as High-priest. The inference is
that His high-priesthood has abolished the old covenant and ratified the
new. The priesthood has been changed, and change of the priesthood
implies
change of the covenant. In fact, to this priesthood the rites
of the former covenant pointed, and on it the priestly absolution
rested. Sins were forgiven, but not in virtue of any efficacy supposed
to belong to the rites or sacrifices, all of which were types of another
and infinitely greater death. For a death has taken place for the
redemption of all past transgressions, which had been accumulating under
the former covenant. Now at length sin has been put out of the way. The
heirs of the promise made to Abraham, centuries before the giving of the
Law, come at last into possession of their inheritance. The call has
sounded. The hour has struck. For this inheritance they waited till
Christ should die. The earthly Canaan may pass from one race to another
race; but the unchangeable,
eternal[176]
inheritance, into which none
but the rightful heirs can enter, is incorruptible, undefiled, fading
not away, reserved in heaven for those who are
kept[177] for its
possession.
Because possession of it was delayed till Christ died, it may be likened
to an inheritance bequeathed by a testator in his last will. For when a
person leaves property by will to another, the will is of no force, the
transference is not actually made, the property does not change hands,
in the testator’s lifetime. The
transaction takes place after and in
consequence of his death. This may serve as an illustration. Its
pertinence as such is increased by the fact, which in all probability
suggested it to our author, that the same word would be used by a
Hebrew, writing in Greek, for “covenant,” and by a native of Greece for
“a testamentary disposition of
property.”[178]
But it is only an illustration. We cannot suppose that it was intended to be anything
more.[179]
To return to argument, the blood of Christ may be shown to have ratified
a covenant from the use of blood by Moses to inaugurate the former
covenant. The Apostle has spoken before of the shedding and sprinkling
of blood in sacrifice. When the high-priest entered into the holiest
place, he offered blood for himself and the people. But, besides its use
in sacrifice, blood was sprinkled on the book of the law, on the
tabernacle, and on all the vessels of the ministry. Without a copious stream, a veritable
“outflow”[180]
of blood, both as ratifying the covenant and as offered in sacrifice,
there was under the Law no
remission of sins. Now the typical character of all the arrangements and
ordinances instituted by Moses is assumed throughout. Even the
purification of the tabernacle and its vessels with blood must be
symbolical of a spiritual truth. There is, therefore, in the new
covenant a purification of the true holiest place. To make the matter
still more evident, the author reminds his readers of a fact, which he
has already mentioned,[181]
in reference to the construction of the
tabernacle. Moses was admonished of God to make it a copy and shadow of
heavenly things. “For, See, saith He, that thou make all things
according to the pattern showed to thee in the mount.” It appears, then,
that not only the covenant was typical, but the tabernacle, its vessels,
and the purifying of all with blood were a copy of things in the
heavens, the true holiest place. And, inasmuch as the holiest place has
now, in Christ, included within it the sanctuary, and every veil and
wall of partition has been removed, the purification of the tabernacle
corresponds to a purification, under the new covenant, of heaven itself.
Not that the heaven of God is polluted. Even the earthly shrine had not
itself contracted defilement. The blood sprinkled on the tabernacle and
its vessels
was not different from the blood of the sacrifice. As
sacrificial blood, it consecrated the place, and was also offered to
God. Similarly the blood of Christ made heaven a sanctuary, erected
there a holiest place for the appearing of the great High-priest,
constituted the throne of the Most High a mercy-seat for men. By the
same act it became an offering to God, enthroned on the mercy-seat. The
two notions of ratifying the covenant and atoning for sin cannot be
separated. For this reason our author says the heavenly things are
purified with sacrifices. But as heaven is higher than the earth, as
the true holiest place excels the typical, so must the sacrifices that
purify heaven be better than the sacrifices that purified the
tabernacle. But Christ is great enough to make heaven itself a new
place, whereas He Himself remains unchanged, “yesterday and to-day the
same, and for ever.”
The thought of Christ’s eternal oneness is apparently suggested to the
Apostle by the contrast between Christ and the purified heaven. But it
helps his argument. For the blood of Christ, when offered in heaven, so
fully and perfectly ratified the new covenant that He remains for
evermore in the holiest place and evermore offers Himself to God in one
eternally unbroken act. He did not enter heaven to come out again, as
the high-priests presented their offering repeatedly, year after year.
They could not do otherwise, because they
entered “with blood not their
own,” or, as we may render the word, “with
alien[182] blood.” The blood
of goats and bulls cannot take away sin. Consequently, the absolution
obtained is unreal and, therefore, temporary in its effect. The blood of
the beasts must be renewed as the annual day of atonement comes round.
If Christ’s offering of Himself had only a temporary efficacy, He must
often have suffered since the foundation of the world. The forgiveness
under the former covenant put off the retribution for one year. St. Paul
expresses the same conception when he describes it as not a real
forgiveness, but as “the passing
over[183]
of the sins done aforetime,
in the forbearance of God.” The writer of the Epistle infers that, if
Christ’s sacrifice were meritorious for a time only, then He ought to
have repeated His offering whenever the period for which it was
efficacious came to an end; and, inasmuch as His atonement was not
restricted to one nation, it would have been necessary for Him to appear
on earth repeatedly, and repeatedly die, not from the time of Moses or
of Abraham, but from the foundation of the world. But our author has
long since said “that the works were finished from the foundation of the
world.”[184]
God Himself after the
work of creation entered on His
Sabbath rest. The Sabbath developed from initial creation to final
atonement, and, because Christ’s atonement is final, He has perfected
the Sabbath eternally in the heavens. But the Sabbath of God would have
been no Sabbath to the Son of God, but a constant recurrence of
sufferings and deaths, if He did not finish transgression and atone for
sin by His one death. “Once, at the end of the ages,” when the tale of
sin and woe has been all told, “hath He appeared,” which proves that He
has finally and for ever put away sin through His one
sacrifice.[185]
The Apostle speaks as one who believed that the end of the world was at
hand. He even builds an argument on this to him assured fact of the near
future. True, the end of the world was not yet. But the argument is
equally valid in its essential bearing. For the important point is that
Christ appeared on earth only once. Whether His one death occurred at
the beginning of human history, or at the end, or at the end of one
period and the beginning of another, is immaterial.
Then follows a very original piece of reasoning, plainly intended to be
an additional proof that Christ’s dying once put away sin for ever. To appear on earth
often, and to die often, would have been impossible for
Him. He was true man, of woman born, not an apparition, not an angel
assuming the appearance of humanity, not the Son of God really and man
only seemingly. But it is appointed unto men once, and only once, to
die. After their one death comes, sooner or later, judgment. To return
to earth and make a new beginning, to retrieve the errors and failures
of a completed life, is not given to men. This is the Divine
appointment. Exception to the Apostle’s argument must not be taken from
the resurrection of Lazarus and others who were restored to life. The
Apostle speaks of God’s usual course of action. So understood, it is
difficult to conceive how any words can be more decisive against the
doctrine of probation after death. For, however long judgment may tarry,
our author acknowledges no possibility of changing any man’s state or
character between death and the final award. On this impossibility of
retrieving the past the force of the argument entirely depends. If
Christ, Who was true man, failed in His one life and one death, the
failure is irretrievable. He cannot come again to earth and try anew. To
Him, as to other men, it was appointed to die once only. In His case, as
in the case of others, judgment follows death,—judgment irreversible on
the things done in the body. To add emphasis to the notion of finality in the work of
Christ’s life on earth, the Apostle uses the passive
verb, “was offered.”[186]
The offering, it is true, was made by Christ
Himself. But here the deed is more emphatic than the Doer: “He was
offered once for all.” The result of the offering is also emphasised:
“He was offered so as[187]
to lift up sins, like a heavy burden, and
bear them away for ever.” Even the word “many” is not to be slurred
over. It too indicates that the work of Christ was final; for the sins
of many have been put away.
What will be the judgment on Christ’s one redemptive death? Has it been
a failure? The answer is that His death and His coming into the judgment
have a closer relation to men than mere similarity. He entered into the
presence of God as a sin-offering. He will be proved, at His second
appearing, to have put away sin. For He will appear then apart
from[188]
sin. God will pronounce that Christ’s blood has been accepted, and that
His work has been finished. His acquittal will be the acquittal of those
whose sins He bare in His body on the tree.
Nor will His appearing be now long delayed. It was already the end of
the ages when He first appeared. Therefore look out for Him with eager
expectancy[189]
and upward gaze. For He will be once again actually
beheld by human eyes, and the vision will be unto salvation.
We must not fail to note that, when the Apostle speaks in this passage
of Christ’s being once offered, he refers to His death. The analogy
between men and Christ breaks down completely if the death of Christ was
not the offering for sin. Faustus Socinus revived the Nestorian doctrine
that our author represents the earthly life and death of Jesus as a
moral preparation for the priesthood which was conferred upon Him at His
ascension to the right hand of God. The bearing of this interpretation
of the Epistle on the Socinian doctrine generally is plain. A moral
preparation there undoubtedly was, as the Apostle has shown in the
second chapter. But if Christ was not Priest on earth, His death was not
an atoning sacrifice. If He was not Priest, He was not Victim. Moreover,
if He fills the office of Priest in heaven only, His priesthood cannot
involve suffering and, therefore, cannot be an atonement. But the view
is inconsistent with the Apostle’s express statement that, “as it is
appointed unto men once to die, so Christ was once offered.” Of course,
we cannot acquiesce in the opposite view that His death was Christ’s
only priestly act, and that His life in heaven is such a state of
exaltation as excludes the possibility of priestly service. For He is “a
Minister of the sanctuary, and of the true tabernacle,
which the Lord
pitched, not man,”[190]
The death of Christ was a distinct act of
priestly service. But it must not be separated from His entering into
heaven. Aaron received into his hands the blood of the newly slain
victim, and immediately carried the smoking blood into the holiest
place. The act of offering the blood before God was as necessary to
constitute the atonement as the previous act of slaying the animal.
Hence it is that the shedding and the sprinkling of the blood are spoken
of as one and the same action. Christ, in like manner, went into the
true holiest through His death. Any other way of entering heaven than
through a sacrificial death would have destroyed the priestly character
of His heavenly life. But His death would have been insufficient. He
must offer His blood and appear in the presence of God for us. To give
men access unto God was the ultimate purpose of redemption. He must,
therefore, consecrate through the veil of His flesh—a new and living
way by which we may come unto God through Him.
Must we, therefore, say that Christ entered the holiest place at His
death, not at His ascension? Does the Apostle refer only to the entrance
of the soul into the invisible world? The question is not an easy one.
If the Apostle means the Ascension,
what doctrinal use does he make of
the interval between the Crucifixion and the Ascension? Many of the
fathers are evidently at a loss to know what to make of this interval.
They think the Divine person, as well as the human soul, of Christ was
conveyed to Hades to satisfy what they call the law of death. Does the
Epistle to the Hebrews pass over in silence the descent into Hades and
the resurrection? On the other hand, if our author means that Christ
entered the holiest place immediately at His death, we are met by the
difficulty that He leaves the holiest, to return finally at His
ascension, whereas the Apostle has argued that Christ differs from the
high-priests under the former covenant in that He does not enter
repeatedly. Much of the confusion has arisen from the tendency of
theologians, under the influence of Augustine, to construct their
systems exclusively on the lines of St. Paul. In his Epistles atonement
is a forensic conception. “Through one act of righteousness the free
gift came unto all men to the justification of
life.”[191] Consequently
the death of Christ is contrasted with His present life. “For the death
that He died, He died unto sin once; but the life that He liveth, He
liveth unto God.”[192]
But our author does not put his doctrine in a
Pauline framework. Instead of forensic
notions, we meet with terms
pertaining to ritual and priesthood. What St. Paul speaks of as law is,
in his language, a covenant, and what is designated justification in the
Epistle to the Romans appears here as sanctification. Conscience is
purified; the worshipper is perfected. The entering of the high-priest
into the holiest place is as prominent as the slaying of the victim.
These are two distinct, but inseparable, parts of one priestly action.
All that lies between is ignored. It is as if it were not. Christ
entered into the holiest through His death and ascension to the right
hand of the Majesty. But the initial and the ultimate stages of the act
must not be put asunder. Nothing comes between. Our author elsewhere
speaks of Christ’s resurrection as a historical
fact.[193] But His
resurrection does not form a distinct notion in the idea of His entrance
into the holiest place.
The Apostle has spoken of the former covenant with surprising severity,
not to say harshness. It was the law of a carnal commandment; it has
been set aside because of its weakness and unprofitableness; it has
grown old and waxed aged; it was nigh unto vanishing away. His austere
language will compare with St. Paul’s description of heathenism as a
bondage to weak and beggarly elements.
The root of all the mischief was unreality. Our author brings his
argument to a close by contrasting the shadow and the substance, the
unavailing sacrifices of the Law, which could only renew the remembrance
of sins, and the sacrifice of the Son, which has fulfilled the will of
God.
The Law had only a shadow.[194]
He is careful not to say that the Law
was itself but a shadow. On the contrary, the very promise includes that
God will put His laws in the heart and write them upon the mind. This
was one of “the good things to come.” Endless repetition of sacrifice
after sacrifice year by year in a weary round of ceremonies only made it
more and more evident that men were walking in a vain show and
disquieting themselves in vain. The Law was holy, righteous, and good;
but the manifestation of its nature in sacrifices was unreal, like the
dark outline of an object that breaks the stream of light. Nothing more
substantial, as a revelation of God’s moral character; was befitting or
possible in that stage of human development, when the purposes of His
grace also not seldom found expression in dreams of the night and
apparitions of the day.
To prove the unreal nature of these ever-recurring sacrifices, the
writer argues that otherwise they
would have ceased to be offered,
inasmuch as the worshippers, if they had been once really cleansed from
their guilt, would have had no more conscience of
sins.[195] The
reasoning is very remarkable. It is not that God would have ceased to
require sacrifices, but that the worshipper would have ceased to offer
them. It implies that, when a sufficient atonement for sin has been
offered to God, the sinner knows it is sufficient, and, as the result,
has peace of conscience. The possibility of a pardoned sinner still
fearing and doubting does not seem to have occurred to the Apostle. One
difference apparently between the saints under the Old Testament and
believers under the New is the joyful assurance of pardon which the
latter receive, whereas the former were all their lifetime subject to
bondage from fear of death, and that although in the one case the
sacrifice was offered by the worshipper himself through the priest, but
in the latter case by Another, even Christ, on his behalf. And we must
not ask the Apostle such questions as these: Are we not in danger of
deceiving ourselves? How is the assurance created and kept alive? Does
it spring spontaneously in the heart, or is it the acceptance of the
authoritative absolution of God’s ministers? Such problems were not
thought of when the Epistle to the Hebrews was
written. They belong to
a later and more subjective state of mind. To men who cannot leave off
introspection and forget themselves in the joy of a new faith, the
Apostle’s argument will have little force and perhaps less meaning.
If the sacrifices were unreal, why, we naturally inquire, were they
continually repeated? The answer is that there were two sides to the
sacrificial rites of the old covenant. On the one hand, they were, like
the heathen gods, “nothings;” on the other, their empty shadowiness
itself fitted them to be a Divinely appointed means to call sins to
remembrance. They represented on the one side the invincible, though
always baffled, effort of natural conscience. For conscience was
endeavouring to purify itself from a sense of guilt. But God also had a
purpose in awakening and disciplining conscience. The worshipper sought
to appease conscience through sacrifice, and God, by the same sacrifice,
proclaimed that reconciliation had not been effected. The Apostle’s
judgment on the subject[196]
is not different from St. Paul’s answer to
the question, What then is the Law? “It was added because of
transgressions.... The Scripture hath shut up all things under sin....
We were kept in ward under the Law.... We were held in bondage under
the rudiments of the
world.”[197]
In allusion to this idea, that the
sacrifices were instituted by God in order to renew the remembrance of
sins every year, Christ said, “Do this in remembrance of Me,”—of Him
Who hath put away sins by the sacrifice of Himself.
Such then was the shadow, at once unreal and dark. In contrast to it,
the Apostle designates the substance as “the very image of the objects.”
Instead of repeating the indefinite expression “good things to come,” he speaks of them as
“objects,”[198]
individually distinct, substantial, true. The
image[199]
of a thing is the full manifestation of its inmost
essence, in the same sense in which St. Paul says that the Son of God’s
love, in Whom we have our redemption, the forgiveness of our sins, is
the image of the invisible
God.[200]
Indeed, it is extremely questionable whether our author too does not refer allusively
to the same truth. For, in the verses that follow, he contrasts with the
sacrifices of the former covenant the coming of Jesus Christ into the
world to accomplish the work which they had failed to
do.[201] When the
blood of bulls and goats could not take away sin, inasmuch as it was an
unreal atonement, God prepared a body for His own eternal Son. The Son
responded to the Divine summons and, in accordance with the prophecies of Scripture concerning
Him,
came from heaven to earth to give Himself as the sufficient sacrifice for sin. The
contrast, as heretofore, is between the vanity of animal sacrifices and the greatness
of the Son, Who offered Himself. His assumption of humanity had for its ultimate end
to enable the Son to do the will of God. The gracious purpose of God is
to forgive sin, and this was accomplished by the infinite humiliation of
the infinite Son. God’s will was to sanctify us; that is, to remove our
guilt.[202]
We have actually been thus sanctified through the one
offering of the body of Jesus Christ. The sacrifices of the Law are
taken out of the way in order to establish the sacrifice of the
Son.[203]
It will be observed that the Apostle is not contrasting sacrifice and
obedience. His meaning is not precisely the same as the prophet
Samuel’s: that “to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than
the fat of rams.”[204]
It is perfectly true that the sacrifice of the
Son involved obedience,—a conscious, deliberate, willing obedience,
which the beasts to be slain in sacrifice could not offer. The idea
pervades these verses, as an atmosphere. But it is not the idea
expressed. The dominant thoughts of the passage are the greatness of the
Person Who obeyed and the greatness of the sacrifice from which His obedience did not shrink.
The Son is here represented as existing and acting apart from His human
nature.[205]
He comes into the world, and is not originated in the world. The Christology of the
Epistle to the Hebrews is identical in this vital point with that of St. Paul. The
purpose of the Son’s coming is already formed. He comes to offer His
body, and we have been taught in a previous chapter that He did this with an
eternal spirit.[206]
For the will of God means our
sanctification, in the meaning attached to the word “sanctification” in
this Epistle, the removal of guilt, the forgiveness of sins. But the
fulfilment of this gracious will of God demands a sacrifice, even a
sacrificial death, and that not the death of beasts, but the infinite
self-sacrifice and obedience unto death of the Son of God. This is
implied in the expression “the offering of the body of Jesus
Christ.”[207]
The superstructure of argument has been raised. Christ as High-priest
has been proved to be superior to the high-priests of the former
covenant. It remains only to lay the topstone in its place. This brings
us back to our starting point. Jesus Christ, the eternal High-priest, is
for ever King. For the priests under the Law stand while they perform
the duties of their
ministry.[208]
They stand because they are only
priests. But Christ has taken His seat, as King, on the right hand of
God.[209]
They offer the same sacrifices, which can never take away
sins, and wait, and wait, but in vain. Though they are priests of the
true God, yet they wait, like the priests of Baal, from morning until
midday is past and until the time of the offering of the evening
sacrifice. But there is neither voice nor any to answer. Christ also
waits, but not to renew an ineffectual sacrifice. He waits
eagerly[210]
to receive from God the reward of His effective sacrifice in the
subjugation of His enemies. The priests under the Law had no enemies.
Their persons were sacred. They incurred no hatred, inspired no love.
Our High-priest goes out to war, the most hated, the most loved, of all
captains of men.
The foundation of this kingly power is in two things: first, He has
perfected men for ever by His one offering; second, He has put the law
of God into the hearts of His people. The final conclusion is that the
sacrifices of the Law have passed away, because they are no longer
needed. “For where there is forgiveness, there is no more an offering
for sin.”