CHRISTMAS FAITH AND THE CHRISTMAS FEAST”—Exodus 24.11
(Preached once at Fentiman Road, Christmas 1936)
Exodus 24.11 “And they saw God, and did eat and drink.”
That strikes us as odd and incongruous. We expected to be told more of those who “beheld their God.” Instead, we are told that they set down to a feast. The two clauses of the text seem to clash. It would sound better if we read, “They saw God, and did fear, and tremble, and worship.” But what is written is written for our learning.
We need to remember that there was, and there is, a widespread belief that a vision of God was a harbinger of death. The seventy elders who with Moses ascended Mount Sinai, the mount of blackness and darkness, were terror stricken. They feared they would die. But “upon the nobles of the Children of Israel Jehovah laid not His hands.” God did not smite them. They did not die, they lived. The anticipation of the revelation filled them with dread, the realization made them rejoice. They saw God, and did eat and drink.
SERMONS AND SANDWICHES
Ought we to be nurtured at the interpretation of these two clauses? The faith and the feast stand close together in our own religious life. One of our most prolific evangelists (FWB, in The Luggage of Life) took part in a church anniversary.7 He tells that on the Sunday there were “special sermons, solemn praise, and stately anthems.” On the Monday, there were “sandwiches, cream puffs, and jam tarts.” And he raises the question, what is the philosophical connection between the sermons of yesterday and the sandwiches of today? What relation exists between singing and scones? What fellowship hath religion with revelry? There’s a pretty problem for you. You think it strange when you read the text and yet you do the same thing.
THE CHRISTMAS FAITH AND THE CHRISTMAS FEAST
Never do religion and revelry go together more than at the present season. Indeed, the text, as well as any I know, sums up a modern Christmas. “They saw God”—“veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the Incarnate Deity!”8 That is the Christmas vision of faith. You look onto the face of the Babe of Bethlehem and “behold your God.” Then away you go to the feasting and revelry, the good cheer and the good fellowship. You are called to “awake and salute the happy morn.” You pay your tribute to the Savior of the world who is come, and then you turn to the turkey and the plum pudding in the home decked with holly and mistletoe. The faith and the feast, the doctrine and the dinner, the carol and the carnival, stand side by side.
THERE IS NO CONDEMNATION
No word of condemnation was passed on these elders. And if a negative commendation in an obscure language is not sufficient, let us make a more general survey. What were the seasons of spiritual enlightenment and elevation among the Jews? Pentecost—Tabernacles—Passover—Dedication. Solemn, heart-rending, soul-stirring seasons these were. And they were called “feasts,” and were, in fact, occasions of family reunions of domestic and natural rejoicing.
Turn to the New Testament, to the life of the Master. There is a tradition that, though our Lord wept often, He was never seen to smile. I do not believe it. The Savior who watched children playing in the marketplace and took babies in his arms must often have smiled. The Man of Sorrows was unsurpassed with the mirth of gladness among his fellows. He wrought the first miracle and magnified His glory at a marriage feast. He went out to dine with Zacchaeus and Matthew. Some things He said I can only understand as I picture Him with a twinkle in his eye. He has set more people singing for sheer joy than any one on earth.
At our sacred service of Holy Communion we sing, “Here, O Lord, I see Thee face to face,” and we do eat and drink of the “feast of love.”9 There we softly sing of those who have passed from the sight of our eyes and who “see Him as He is,” who “sat down at the marriage supper of the Lamb.” So, I dare to attest that . . .
NOTHING IN THE FAITH FORBIDS THE FEAST
The vision of God is consistent with and consecration of the engagements of life. Religion is not the grave of joy, but its satisfaction. In God’s presence, there is fullness of joy and at His right hand are pleasures for evermore. Break forth unto joy and song together for the Lord hath comforted His people. Behold your God regards your lowly estate and is coming to save the fallen and cheer the faint. It is good that we should make merry and rejoice. And a minister can say, “God bless you and your happy homes.” And He will.
Only remember the right order. The revelry follows the revelation. The vision of God comes first. You have not kept Christmas if you have not beheld His glory. First of all, “O come let us adore Him.” If you follow that order the revelation will sanctify the rejoicing. Let me say bluntly what I mean. No man who really sees God this Christmas will get drunk. Of course not! But selfishness and greed and grudges, just as much, must not take place. When we see God, we know that pride and prejudice, unforgiveness and uncharity, have no place in His presence. When we truly see Him, we become like Him and enter into the joy of our Lord.
7. He is referring to F. W. Boreham, a British Baptist evangelist, and his book The Luggage of Life, published in 1912.
8. A line from Charles Wesley’s Hymn “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” There is a humorous story in regard to the title. Charles had originally had the first line as “hark how the welkins ring” (a welkin is a bell). Fellow Methodist George Whitefield didn’t think that rang any bells, and so he suggested the change to the first line we now all know.
9. A hymn of the same title by Horatius Bonar (1855).
“THE FIRST SANCTUARY AND ITS FURNITURE”—Exodus 25.21, 22
(Preached twenty-three times from West Burton to Sileby, dated from Hadley 7/13/38 to Caledon St, Pleck 11/1/42)
Exodus 25.21, 22 “And thou shalt put the mercy seat above upon the ark; and in the ark thou shalt put the testimony; that I shall give thee. And there I will meet with thee, and I will commune with thee from above the mercy seat.”
At first glance, it may seem unnecessary, a waste of your time and the preacher’s strength, to prepare and deliver a sermon on the erection and furnishing of Israel’s first sanctuary. At best, it was only a tent temple to be superseded when the Jews were settled in their own land. Though the ark was transferred to Solomon’s Temple, it was lost and all traces of it disappeared during the Great Captivity. Besides, it belonged to a dispensation long since over, while we have entered into a new covenant. To us has come the higher, clearer revelation of the way God tabernacles with men. The Temple has given way to the church, and there is open to all believers a new and living way into the true Holy of Holies. I am not likely to forget these things. Gladly I admit them. The primitive sanctuary, its ritual, and its furniture these all belong to that which is “in part,” and when “that which is perfect” is come, that which is in part is done away. Men who know the living way will never rebuild the old temple or restore its ritual.
But we shall greatly err, and to our own impoverishment, if we fail to see here the eternal behind the ephemeral, the essential behind the transient, and the spirit behind the form. Here at least is the first intimation that God will in very deed dwell with men and find His rest in the sanctuaries they consecrate
