[ p. 6 ]
JESUS and John the Baptist were Jews. They were members of a race that had a unique genius for religion, of a people who were the ancient world’s religious experts. As we derive our ideas of beauty from the Greeks and our conception of law from the Romans, so we derive our idea of God from the Jews. To this nation, life without religion was unthinkable.
It was a vital part of their belief that Israel had been chosen by God. Countless prophecies in their sacred Books—the Old Testament—assured Israel of a destiny equal to her calling. The contrast between this promised destiny and Israel’s actual condition was poignant. At the beginning of our era she had, for nearly six hundred years, been under the power of one foreign nation after another—Babylon, Persia, Egypt, Syria, and Rome. For a short century, to be sure, there had been comparative freedom under native rulers, but certain even of these rulers were worthless tyrants, and brief periods of prosperity had only made the subsequent servitude more intolerable. To Jews everywhere the situation had become almost unendurable, and faith was torn by questionings. Why was God’s chosen people subject to the iron rule of Rome [ p. 7 ] instead of to the rule of God? And how long must the condition last?
For something like two centuries a new school of prophets—today we call them “apocalyptists”—had been striving to solve these problems. Israel was suffering for her sins; this was the all but universal answer. But she might take heart. Her discipline was nearly completed. God’s patience with the ruthless foreigners was almost at the end, and Israel had but little longer to wait. Creation was about to pass into its final stage; the kingdoms of this world were soon to become “the Kingdom of God.”
This was the origin of the phrase that meets us everywhere throughout the Gospels. To Jewish ears it had but one meaning: a perfectly righteous state, in which God would rule as completely as He rules in heaven.
How soon would the Kingdom come? On every side voices were raised, predicting that it could not be long delayed; perhaps the greater part of the nation expected to see the great consummation within their own lifetime.
What would the Kingdom be like? Here many opinions were held, many views elaborated. All men agreed that it would be given up to the service and worship of God; no true Jew could hesitate in this belief. But unanimity went no further. In accord with the literal predictions of the Old Testament, many looked for the Kingdom on this earth; a rejuvenated Palestine, saved from its enemies forever, fertile [ p. 8 ] and prosperous, a land where all would live long and happy lives, and die peaceful and contented deaths. At the opposite pole of expectation, others sought the Kingdom not in this world—which was about to be brought to an end—but in the world to come; in a heaven where all would be immortal and would enjoy for all eternity the vision of God. Between these two extremes all sorts of pictures were drawn, in which earthly and heavenly elements were combined—often in most haphazard fashion.
How would the Kingdom come 1 ? Not without preliminary signs, some of which—men thought— were already fulfilled. The actual coming of the Kingdom must bring with it a drastic purging process which would leave as its citizens only the worthy. The strict traditionalists looked for a war which would destroy all the enemies of the Lord and sweep the hosts of Israel on to victory. Others pictured the end as a great judgment that would send the unrighteous to punishment or destruction. Or the two conceptions might be—and were—combined in many different ways, and with still other alternatives.
Who would enter the Kingdom 1 ? Only the righteous, of course. In very “popular” circles this might be thought to mean “only the Jews,” with the “unrighteous” correspondingly defined as “all Gentiles.” [1] No one of any reflective ability, however, would hold this doctrine. Practically everyone believed that some Jews would be excluded for their sins, while many taught that some Gentiles might be included. But [ p. 9 ] since to Jewish ears “righteousness” meant “obedience to God’s Law,” and since only the Jews knew this Law as written in the Old Testament, it was generally felt that the proportion of Gentiles must be small.
Who would bring in the Kingdom? Here, also, there were many opinions. Some teachers maintained that God would bring it Himself, without any agent or mediator. More common was the belief that God would employ an intermediary, that He would send some one to bring earth’s history to an end and to establish the final consummation. To this intermediary the Jews gave the name “Messiah.” [2]
It is of utmost importance for us to note that this is the only possible sense “Messiah” ever had or could have on Jewish lips at this time. “Messiah” could not mean merely one who taught God’s will, no matter how perfectly; for such a teacher the Jews had a fixed title, “prophet.” The Messiah was infinitely more than a prophet; a Messiah who did not bring the final Kingdom was no Messiah at all.
What would the Messiah be ? Once more the teachers diverged. The older tradition clung to the idea of a “Son of David”; that is, just as David of old had rid the Holy Land of all enemies, so “David’s Son” would be a Deliverer; only, of course, on a vastly greater scale. If, however, men thought of the Kingdom as heavenly, they naturally thought of the Messiah as heavenly also. According to this view he was pictured as sitting at God’s right hand from the beginning of creation, waiting the day when he should [ p. 10 ] descend from heaven to accomplish the final redemption. And—to our ears most strangely—when the Messiah was thus conceived, and not as a human being, he was given the title “Son of Man.” This seemingly contradictory usage has, of course, its historic explanation, but here we can only state the fact. As everywhere else in the expectations of the future, in the Messianic teaching earthly and heavenly conceptions were interwoven and blended in almost every fashion. But the Jews never thought that the “Son of Man” would become a man. Nor—at this period—did they ever think of the Messiah as suffering; his whole mission was to triumph.
Such was the background of the Baptist’s preaching.