Part 11 (2/2)
But instead of the usual troupe, which Herod probably kept for such an occasion, Salome herself came in and danced a wild nautch-dance. What shall we think of a mother who could expose her daughter to such a scene, and suggest her taking a part in the half-drunken orgy? To what depths will not mad jealousy and pa.s.sion urge us, apart from the restraining grace of G.o.d! The girl, alas, was as shameless as her mother.
She pleased Herod, who was excited with the meeting of the two strong pa.s.sions, which have destroyed more victims than have fallen on all the battlefields of the world; and in his frenzy, he promised to give her whatever she might ask, though it were to cost half his kingdom. She rushed back to her mother with the story of her success. ”What shall I ask?” she cried. The mother had, perhaps, antic.i.p.ated such a moment as this, and had her answer ready. ”Ask,” she replied instantly, ”for John the Baptist's head.” Back from her mother she tripped into the banqueting-hall, her black eyes flas.h.i.+ng with cruel hate, lighted from her mother's fierceness. A dead silence fell on the buzz of conversation, and every ear strained for her reply. ”And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that thou forthwith give me in a charger the head of John the Baptist.”
Mark that word, ”forthwith.” Her mother and she were probably fearful that the king's mood would change. What was to be done must be done at once, or it might not be done at all. ”Quick, quick,” the girl seemed to say, ”the moments seem like hours; now, in this instant, give me what I demand. I want my banquet, too; let it be served up on one of these golden chargers.” The imperious demand of the girl showed how keenly she had entered into her mother's scheme.
It is thus that suggestions come to us; and, so far as I can understand, we may expect them to come so long as we are in this world.
There seems to be a precise a.n.a.logy between temptation and the microbes of disease. These are always in the air; but when we are in good health they are absolutely innocuous, our nature offers no hold or resting place for them. The grouse disease only makes headway when there has been a wet season, and the young birds are too weakened by the damp to resist its attack. The potato blight is always lying in wait, till the potato plants are deteriorated by a long spell of rain and damp; it is only then that it can effect its fell purpose. The microbes of consumption and cancer are probably never far away from us, but are powerless to hurt us, till our system has become weakened by other causes. So temptation would have no power over us, if we were in full vigour of soul. It is only when the vitality of the inward man is impaired, that we are unable to withstand the fiery darts of the wicked one.
This shows how greatly we need to be filled with the life of the Son of G.o.d. In his life and death, our Lord, in our human nature, met and vanquished the power of sin and death; He bore that nature into the heavenly places, whence He waits to impart it, by the Holy Spirit, to those who are united with Him by a living faith. Is not this what the apostle John meant, when he said that his converts--his little children--could overcome, because greater was He that was in them than he that was in the world? He who has the greatest and strongest nature within him must overcome an inferior nature; and if you have the victorious nature of the living Christ in you, you must be stronger than the nature which He bruised beneath his feet.
III. THE CONSENT OF THE WILL.--”The king was exceeding sorry.” The girl's request sobered him. His face turned pale, and he clutched convulsively at the cus.h.i.+on on which he reclined. On the one hand, his conscience revolted from the deed, and he was more than fearful of the consequences; on the other, he said to himself, ”I am bound by my oath.
I have sworn; and my words were spoken in the audience of so many of my chief men, I dare not go back, lest they lose faith in me.” ”And straightway the king sent forth a soldier of his guard and commanded to bring the Baptist's head.”
Is it not marvellous that a man who did not refrain from doing deeds of incest and murder, should be so scrupulous about violating an oath that ought never to have been sworn? You have thought that you were bound to go through with your engagement, because you had pledged yourself, although you know that it would condemn you to lifelong misery and disobedience to the law of Christ. But stay for a moment, and tell me!
What was your state of mind when you pledged your word? Were you not under the influence of pa.s.sion? Did you not form your plan in the twilight of misinformation, or beneath the spell of some malign and unholy influence, that exerted a mesmeric power over you? Looking back on it, can you not see that you ought never to have bound yourself, and do you not feel that if you had your time again you would not bind yourself? Then be sure that you are not bound by that ”dead hand.”
You must act in the clearer, better light, which G.o.d has communicated.
Even though you called on the sacred name of G.o.d, G.o.d cannot sanction that which you now count mistaken, and wrong. You had no right to pledge half the kingdom of your nature. It is not yours to give, it is G.o.d's. And if you have pledged it, through mistake, prejudice, or pa.s.sion, dare to believe that you are absolved from your vow, through repentance and faith, and that the breach is better than the observance.
”And he went and beheaded John in prison.” Had the Baptist heard aught of the unseemly revelry? Had any strain of music been waited down to him? Perhaps so. Those old castles are full of strange echoes. His cell was perfectly dark. He might be lying bound on the bare ground, or some poor bed of straw. Was his mind glancing back on those never-to-be-forgotten days, when the heaven was opened above him, and he saw the descending Dove? Was he wondering why he was allowed to lie there month after month, silenced and suffering? Ah, he did not know how near he was to liberty!
There was a tread along the corridor. It stopped outside his cell.
The light gleamed under the door; the heavy wards of the lock were turned: in a moment more he saw the gleam of the naked sword, and guessed the soldier's errand. There was no time to spare; the royal message was urgent. Perhaps one last message was sent to his disciples; then he bowed his head before the stroke; the body fell helpless here, the head there, and the spirit was free, with the freedom of the sons of G.o.d, in a world where such as he stand among their peers. Forerunner of the Bridegroom here, he was his forerunner there also; and the Bridegroom's friend pa.s.sed homeward to await the Bridegroom's coming, where he ever hears the voice he loves.
”And the soldier brought his head in a charger, and gave it to the damsel; and the damsel gave it to her mother.” There would not be so much talking while the tragedy was being consummated. The king and courtiers must have been troubled under the spell of that horror, as Belshazzar when the hand wrote in characters of mystery over against the sacred candlestick. And when the soldier entered, carrying in the charger that ghastly burden, they beheld a sight which was to haunt some of them to their dying day. Often Herod would see it in his dreams, and amid the light of setting suns. It would haunt him, and fill his days and nights with anguish that all the witchery of Herodias could not dispel.
Months afterwards, when he heard of Jesus, the conscience-stricken monarch said: ”It is John the Baptist, whom I beheaded; he is risen from the dead.” And still afterwards, when Jesus Himself stood before him, and refused to speak one word, he must have a.s.sociated that silence and his deed together, as having a fatal and necessary connection.
So the will, which had long paltered with the temptress, at last took the fatal step, and perpetrated the crime which could never be undone.
There is always a s.p.a.ce given, during which a tempted soul is allowed time to withdraw from the meshes of the net of temptation. Sudden falls have always been preceded by long dallying with Delilah. The cras.h.i.+ng of the tree to the earth has been prepared for by the ravages of the borer-worm, which has eaten out its heart.
If you have taken the fatal step, and marred your life by some sad and disastrous sin, dare to believe that there is forgiveness for you with G.o.d. Men may not forgive, but G.o.d will. As far as the east is from the west, so far will He remove our transgressions from us. Perhaps we can never again take up public Christian work; but we may walk humbly and prayerfully with G.o.d, sure that we are accepted of Him, and forgiven, though we can hardly forgive ourselves.
But if we have not yet come to this, let us devoutly thank G.o.d, and be on the watch against any influences that may drift us thither. We may yet retreat. We may yet disentangle ourselves. We may yet receive into our natures the living power of the Lord Jesus. We may yet cut off the right hand and right foot, and pluck out the right eye, which is causing us to offend. Better this, and go into life maimed, than be cast, as Herod was, to the fire and worm of unquenchable remorse.
XV.
The Grave of John, and Another Grave
(MATTHEW XIV. 12.)
”When some beloved voice, that was to you Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, And silence, against which you dare not cry, Aches round you like a strong disease and new,-- What hope, what help, what music will undo That silence to your sense? Not friends.h.i.+p's sigh, Not reason's subtle count.... Nay, none of these!
Speak, Thou availing Christ!--and fill this pause.”
E. B. BROWNING.
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