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The Syrian Christ

by Abraham Mitrie Rihbany · English · Gutenberg #40285 · 446,417 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Syrian Christ

Author: Abraham Mitrie Rihbany


        
Release date: July 20, 2012 [eBook #40285]
                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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[Illustration: Cover]




THE SYRIAN CHRIST


BY

ABRAHAM MITRIE RIHBANY




BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

The Riverside Press Cambridge

1916




COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY ABRAHAM MITRIE RIHBANY


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


_Published October 1916_




{v}

PREFACE

This little volume is sent forth in the confident hope that it may
throw fresh light on the life and teachings of Christ, and facilitate
for the general public the understanding of the Bible.  As may be
readily seen, from its perusal, the present work is not intended to be
a commentary on the Bible, nor even an exhaustive study of the subject
with which it deals.  That it leaves many things to be desired is very
evident to the author, who fears that his book will be remembered by
its readers more by the things it lacks than by the things it contains.

Yet, from the cordial reception with which the opening chapters of this
publication (which made their first appearance in the _Atlantic
Monthly_) met from readers, of various religious affiliations, the
author has been encouraged to believe that his aim has not only been
clearly {vi} discerned, but thoroughly approved.  The books which
undertake the systematic "expounding of the Scriptures" are a host
which no man can number, nor is there any lack of "spiritual lessons
drawn from the Bible."  Therefore, as one of the Master's fellow
countrymen, and one who has enjoyed about twenty years of service in
the American pulpit, I have for several years entertained the growing
conviction that such a book as this was really needed.  Not, however,
as one more commentary, but as an Oriental guide to afford Occidental
readers of the Bible a more intimate view of the original intellectual
and social environment of this sacred literature.  So what I have to
offer here is a series of suggestions, and not of technically wrought
Bible lessons.

The need of the Western readers of the Bible is, in my judgment, to
enter sympathetically and intelligently into the atmosphere in which
the books of the Scriptures first took form: to have real intellectual,
as well as spiritual, fellowship with those Orientals who sought {vii}
earnestly in their own way to give tangible form to those great
spiritual truths which have been, and ever shall be, humanity's most
precious heritage.

My task has not been a light one.  It is comparatively easy to take
isolated Bible texts and explain them, treating each passage as a
detached unit.  But when one undertakes to group a large number of
passages which never were intended to be gathered together and treated
as the kindred thoughts of an essay, the task becomes rather difficult.
How far I have succeeded in my effort to relate the passages I have
treated in this book to one another according to their intellectual and
social affinities, the reader is in a better position to judge than I
am.

It may not be absolutely necessary for me to say that infallibility
cannot justly be ascribed to any author, nor claimed by him, even when
writing of his own experiences, and the social environment in which he
was born and brought up.

However, in Yankee, not in Oriental, {viii} fashion, I will say that
_to the best of my knowledge_ the statements contained in this book are
correct.

Finally, I deem it necessary before I bring this preface to a close to
sound a note of warning.  So I will say that the Orientals' extensive
use of figurative speech should by no means be allowed to carry the
idea that _all_ Oriental speech is figurative.  This manner of speech,
which is common to all races of men, is only _more extensively_ used by
Orientals than by Occidentals.  I could wish, however, that the learned
theologians had suspected more strongly the literal accuracy of
Oriental utterances, and had thus been saved at times from founding a
huge doctrinal structure on a figure of speech.

Notwithstanding all this, the Gospel and the Christian faith still live
and bless and cheer the hearts and minds of men.  As an Oriental by
birth, and as an American from choice, I feel profoundly grateful that
I have been enabled to render this modest service to the Churches of
{ix} America, and to present this book as an offering of love and
homage to my Master, the Syrian Christ.

ABRAHAM MITRIE RIHBANY

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.




{xi}

CONTENTS


PART I.  THE SYRIAN CHRIST.

  I.  Son of the East
  II.  Birth of a Man Child
  III.  The Star
  IV.  Mystic Tones
  V.  Filial Obedience
  VI.  Feast and Sacrament
  VII.  The Last Scene


PART II.  The Oriental Manner Of Speech.

  I.  Daily Language
  II.  Imprecations
  III.  Love of Enemies
  IV.  "The Unveracious Oriental"
  V.  Impressions _vs._ Literal Accuracy
  VI.  Speaking in Parables
  VII.  Swearing
  VIII.  Four Characteristics


{xii}

PART III.  BREAD AND SALT

  I.  The Sacred 'Aish
  II.  "Our Daily Bread"
  III.  "Compel Them to come in"
  IV.  Delaying the Departing Guest
  V.  Family Feasts


PART IV.  OUT IN THE OPEN

  I.  Shelter and Home
  II.  Resigned Travelers
  III.  The Market Place
  IV.  The Housetop
  V.  The Vineyards and the Fields
  VI.  The Shepherd


PART V.  SISTERS OF MARY AND MARTHA

  I.  Woman East and West
  II.  Paul and Woman
  III.  Jesus and his Mother
  IV.  "A Gracious Woman"


PART VI.

  Here and There in the Bible
  Index




{3}

PART I

THE SYRIAN CHRIST




THE SYRIAN CHRIST

CHAPTER I

SON OF THE EAST

Jesus Christ, the incarnation of the spirit of God, seer, teacher of
the verities of the spiritual life, and preacher of the fatherhood of
God and the brotherhood of man, is, in a higher sense, "a man without a
country."  As a prophet and a seer Jesus belongs to all races and all
ages.  Wherever the minds of men respond to simple truth, wherever the
hearts of men thrill with pure love, wherever a temple of religion is
dedicated to the worship of God and the service of man, there is Jesus'
country and there are his friends.  Therefore, in speaking of Jesus as
the son of a certain country, I do not mean in the least to localize
his Gospel, or to set bounds and limits to the flow of his spirit and
the workings of his love.

Nor is it my aim in these chapters to imitate {4} the astute
theologians by wrestling with the problem of Jesus' personality.  To me
the secret of personality, human and divine, is an impenetrable
mystery.  My more modest purpose in this writing is to remind the
reader that, whatever else Jesus was, as regards his modes of thought
and life and his method of teaching, he was a Syrian of the Syrians.
According to authentic history Jesus never saw any other country than
Palestine.  There he was born; there he grew up to manhood, taught his
Gospel, and died for it.

It is most natural, then, that Gospel truths should have come down to
the succeeding generations--and to the nations of the West--cast in
Oriental moulds of thought, and intimately intermingled with the simple
domestic and social habits of Syria.  The gold of the Gospel carries
with it the sand and dust of its original home.

From the foregoing, therefore, it may be seen that my reason for
undertaking to throw fresh light on the life and teachings of Christ,
and {5} other portions of the Bible whose correct understanding depends
on accurate knowledge of their original environment, is not any claim
on my part to great learning or a profound insight into the spiritual
mysteries of the Gospel.  The real reason is rather an accident of
birth.  From the fact that I was born not far from where the Master was
born, and brought up under almost the identical conditions under which
he lived, I have an "inside view" of the Bible which, by the nature of
things, a Westerner cannot have.  And I know that the conditions of
life in Syria of to-day are essentially as they were in the time of
Christ, not from the study of the mutilated tablets of the archæologist
and the antiquarian, precious as such discoveries are, but from the
simple fact that, as a sojourner in this Western world, whenever I open
my Bible it reads like a letter from home.

Its unrestrained effusiveness of expression; its vivid, almost flashy
and fantastic imagery; its naïve narrations; the rugged unstudied
simplicity of its parables; its unconventional (and {6} to the more
modest West rather unseemly) portrayal of certain human relations; as
well as its all-permeating spiritual mysticism,--so far as these
qualities are concerned, the Bible might all have been written in my
primitive village home, on the western slopes of Mount Lebanon some
thirty years ago.

Nor do I mean to assert or even to imply that the Western world has
never succeeded in knowing the mind of Christ.  Such an assertion would
do violent injustice, not only to the Occidental mind, but to the
Gospel itself as well, by making it an enigma, utterly foreign to the
native spirituality of the majority of mankind.  But what I have
learned from intimate associations with the Western mind, during almost
a score of years in the American pulpit, is that, with the exception of
the few specialists, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, for
a people to understand fully a literature which has not sprung from
that people's own racial life.  As a repository of divine revelation
the Bible knows no geographical limits.  Its spiritual truths are {7}
from God to man.  But as a literature the Bible is an imported article
in the Western world, especially in the home of the Anglo-Saxon race.
The language of the Scriptures, the mentality and the habits of life
which form the setting of their spiritual precepts, and the mystic
atmosphere of those precepts themselves, have come forth from the soul
of a people far removed from the races of the West in almost all the
modes of its earthly life.

You cannot study the life of a people successfully from the outside.
You may by so doing succeed in discerning the few fundamental traits of
character in their local colors, and in satisfying your curiosity with
surface observations of the general modes of behavior; but the little
things, the common things, those subtle connectives in the social
vocabulary of a people, those agencies which are born and not made, and
which give a race its rich distinctiveness, are bound to elude your
grasp.  There is so much in the life of a people which a stranger to
that people must receive {8} by way of unconscious absorption.  Like a
little child, he must learn so many things by involuntary imitation.
An outside observer, though wise, is only a photographer.  He deals
with externals.  He can be converted into an artist and portray the
life of a race by working from the soul outward, only through long,
actual, and sympathetic associations with that race.

From the foregoing it may be seen that I deem it rather hazardous for a
six-weeks tourist in that country to publish a book on the _life_ of
Syria.  A first-class camera and "an eye to business" are hardly
sufficient qualifications for the undertaking of such a task.  It is
very easy, indeed, to take a photograph, but not so easy to relate such
a picture to the inner life of a race, and to know what moral and
social forces lie behind such externals.  The hasty traveler may easily
state what certain modes of thought and life in a strange land mean to
_him_, but does that necessarily mean that _his_ understanding of such
things is also the understanding of the _people_ of that land
themselves?

{9}

With the passing of the years, this thought gains in significance with
me, as a Syrian immigrant.  At about the end of my second year of
residence in this country, I felt confident that I could write a book
on America and the Americans whose accuracy no one could challenge.  It
was so easy for me to grasp the significance of certain general aspects
of American life that I felt I was fully competent to state how the
American people lived, what their racial, political, and religious
tendencies were, what their idioms of speech meant, and to interpret
their amorous, martial, dolorous, and joyous moods with perfect
accuracy and ease.  But now, after a residence of about twenty-four
years in America--years which I have spent in most intimate association
with Americans, largely of the "original stock"--I do not feel half so
confident that I am qualified to write such a book.  The more intimate
I become with American thought, the deeper I penetrate the American
spirit, the more enlightened my associations become with American
fathers, mothers, {10} and children in the joys and sorrows of life,
the more fully do I realize how extremely difficult, if not impossible,
it is for one to interpret successfully the life of an alien people
before one has actually _lived it_ himself.

Many Westerners have written very meritorious books on the thought and
life of the East.  But these are not of the "tourist" type.  Such
writers have been those who, first, had the initial wisdom to realize
that the beggars for _bakhsheesh_ in the thoroughfares of Syrian
cities, and those who hitch a woman with an ox to the plough in some
dark recesses of Palestine, did not possibly represent the deep soul of
that ancient East, which gave birth to the Bible and to the glorious
company of prophets, apostles, and saints.  Second, such writers knew,
also, that the fine roots of a people's life do not lie on the surface.
Such feeders of life are both deep and fine; not only long residence
among a people, but intimate association and genuine sympathy with them
are necessary to reveal to a stranger the hidden {11} meaning of their
life.  Social life, like biological life, energizes from within, and
from within it must be studied.

And it is those common things of Syrian life, so indissolubly
interwoven with the spiritual truths of the Bible, which cause the
Western readers of holy writ to stumble, and which rob those truths for
them of much of their richness.  By sheer force of genius, the
aggressive, systematic Anglo-Saxon mind seeks to press into logical
unity and creedal uniformity those undesigned, artless, and most
natural manifestations of Oriental life, in order to "understand the
Scriptures."

"Yet show I unto you a more excellent way," by personally conducting
you into the inner chambers of Syrian life, and showing you, if I can,
how simple it is for a humble fellow countryman of Christ to understand
those social phases of the Scriptural passages which so greatly puzzle
the august minds of the West.




{12}

CHAPTER II

BIRTH OF A MAN CHILD

In the Gospel story of Jesus' life there is not a single incident that
is not in perfect harmony with the prevailing modes of thought and the
current speech of the land of its origin.  I do not know how many times
I heard it stated in my native land and at our own fireside that
heavenly messengers in the forms of patron saints or angels came to
pious, childless wives, in dreams and visions, and cheered them with
the promise of maternity.  It was nothing uncommon for such women to
spend a whole night in a shrine "wrestling in prayer," either with the
blessed Virgin or some other saint, for such a divine assurance; and I
remember a few of my own kindred to have done so.

Perhaps the most romantic religious practice in this connection is the
_zeara_.  Interpreted literally, the word _zeara_ means simply a visit.
In its social use it is the equivalent of {13} a call of long or short
duration.  But religiously the _zeara_ means a pilgrimage to a shrine.
However, strictly speaking, the word "pilgrimage" means to the Syrians
a journey of great religious significance whose supreme purpose is the
securing of a blessing for the pilgrim, with no reference to a special
need.  The _zeara_ is a pilgrimage with a specific purpose.  The
_zayir_ (visitor to a shrine) comes seeking either to be healed of a
certain ailment, to atone for a sin, or to be divinely helped in some
other way.  Unlike a pilgrimage also, a _zeara_ may be made by one
person in behalf of another.  When, for example, a person is too ill to
travel, or is indifferent to a spiritual need which such a visit is
supposed to fill, his parents or other close friends may make a _zeara_
in his behalf.  But much more often a _zeara_ is undertaken by women
for the purpose of securing the blessing of fecundity, or consecrating
an approaching issue of wedlock (if it should prove to be a male) to
God, and to the patron saint of the visited sanctuary.

{14}

Again the word "pilgrimage" is used only to describe a visit by a
Christian to Jerusalem, or by a Mohammedan to Mecca, while the _zeara_
describes a visit to any one of the lesser shrines.

The happy journey is often made on foot, the parties most concerned
walking all the way "on the flesh of their feet"; that is, with neither
shoes nor sandals on.  This great sacrifice is made as a mark of
sincere humility which is deemed to be pleasing to God and his holy
saints.  However, the wearing of shoes and even the use of mounts is
not considered a sinful practice on such occasions, and is indulged in
by many of the well-to-do families.  The state of the heart is, of
course, the chief thing to be considered.

In the fourth chapter of the Second Book of Kings we are told that "the
Shunammite woman" used an ass when she sought Elisha to restore her
dead son to her.  In the twenty-second verse (the Revised Version), we
are told, "And she called unto her husband, and said, {15} Send me, I
pray thee, one of the servants, and one of the asses, that I may run to
the man of God, and come again....  Then she saddled an ass, and said
to her servant, Drive, and go forward; slacken me not the riding,
except I bid thee.  So she went, and came unto the man of God to mount
Carmel."

Fasting and prayer on the way are often pronounced phases of a _zeara_.
However, wine-drinking by the men in the company and noisy gayety are
not deemed altogether incompatible with the solemnity of the occasion.
The pious visitors carry with them presents to the abbot and to the
monks who serve the shrine.  A silver or even gold candlestick, or a
crown of either metal for the saint, is also carried to the altar.  The
young mother in whose behalf the _zeara_ is undertaken is tenderly
cared for by every member of the party.  She is "the chosen vessel of
the Lord."

The _zûwar_ (visitors) remain at the holy shrine for one or two nights,
or until the "presence" is revealed; that is, until the saint {16}
manifests himself.  The prayerfully longed-for manifestation comes
almost invariably in a dream, either to the mother or some other worthy
in the party.  How like the story of Joseph all this is!  In the first
chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, the twentieth verse, it is said of
Joseph, "But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the
Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David,
fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived
in her is of the Holy Ghost.  And she shall bring forth a son, and thou
shalt call his name Jesus; for he shall save his people from their
sins."

In this manner the promise is made to the waiting mother, who "keeps
these things, and ponders them in her heart."

The promise thus secured, the mother and the father vow that the child
shall be a _nedher_; that is, consecrated to the saint who made the
promise to the mother.  The vow may mean one of several things.  Either
that a sum of {17} money be "given to the saint" upon the advent of the
child, or that the child be carried to the same sanctuary on another
_zeara_ with gifts, and so forth, or that his hair will not be cut
until he is seven years old, and then cut for the first time before the
image of his patron saint at the shrine, or some other act of pious
fulfillment.

The last form of a vow, the consecration of the hair of the head for a
certain period, is practiced by men of all ages.  The vow is made as a
petition for healing from a serious illness, rescue from danger, or
purely as an act of consecration.  In the eighteenth chapter of the
Book of Acts, the eighteenth verse, we have the statement: "And Paul
after this tarried there yet a good while, and then took his leave of
the brethren, and sailed thence into Syria, and with him Priscilla and
Aquila; _having shorn his head in Cenchrea: for he had a vow_."  It was
also in connection with this practice that Paul was induced by the
"brethren" at Jerusalem to make a compromise which cost him dearly.
{18} In the twenty-first chapter of Acts, the twenty-third verse, we
are told that those brethren said to Paul, "We have four men who have a
vow on them; them take, and purify thyself with them, and be at charges
for them, that they may _shave their heads_."

The last service of this kind which I attended in Syria was for a
cousin of mine, a boy of twelve, who was a _nedher_, or as the word is
rendered in the English Bible, a Nazarite.  We assembled in the church
of St. George of Sûk.  The occasion was very solemn.  A mass was
celebrated after the order of the Greek Orthodox Church.  Near the
close of the service the tender lad was brought by his parents in front
of the Royal Door at the altar.  While repeating a prayer, the priest
cut the hair on the crown of the boy's head with the scissors, in the
shape of a cross.  The simple act released the child and his parents of
their solemn vow.

"Twentieth-century culture" is prone to call all such practices
superstitions.  So they are to a large extent.  But I deem it the
higher {19} duty of this culture to _interpret_ sympathetically rather
than to condemn superstition in a sweeping fashion.  I am a lover of a
rational theology and a reasonable faith, but I feel that in our
enthusiasm for such a theology and such a faith we often fail to
appreciate the deep spiritual longing which is expressed in
superstitious forms of worship.  What is there in such religious
practices as those I have mentioned but the expression of the
heart-burning of those parents for the spiritual welfare and security
of their children?  What do we find here but evidences of a deep and
sincere yearning for divine blessings to come upon the family and the
home?  Thoughts of God at the marriage altar; thoughts of God when the
promise of parenthood becomes evident; thoughts of God when a child
comes into the world; thoughts of God and of his holy prophets and
saints as friends and companions in all the changes and chances of the
world.  Here the challenge to modern rationalism is not to content
itself with rebuking superstitions, but to give {20} the world deeper
spiritual visions than those which superstitions reveal, and to compass
childhood and youth by the gracious presence of the living God.

In a most literal sense we always understood the saying of the
psalmist, "Children are a heritage from the Lord."  Above and beyond
all natural agencies, it was He who turned barrenness to fecundity and
worked the miracle of birth.  To us every birth was miraculous, and
childlessness an evidence of divine disfavor.  From this it may be
inferred how tenderly and reverently agreeable to the Syrian ear is the
angel's salutation to Mary, "Hail, thou that art highly favored, the
Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women!--Behold thou shalt
conceive in thy womb and bring forth a son."[1]

A miracle?  Yes.  But a miracle means one thing to your Western
science, which seeks to know what nature is and does by dealing with
secondary causes, and quite another thing to {21} an Oriental, to whom
God's will is the law and gospel of nature.  In times of intellectual
trouble this man takes refuge in his all-embracing faith,--the faith
that to God all things are possible.

The Oriental does not try to meet an assault upon his belief in
miracles by seeking to establish the historicity of concrete reports of
miracles.  His poetical, mystical temperament seeks its ends in another
way.  Relying upon his fundamental faith in the omnipotence of God, he
throws the burden of proof upon his assailant by challenging him to
substantiate his _denial_ of the miracles.  So did Paul (in the
twenty-sixth chapter of the Book of Acts) put his opponents at a great
disadvantage by asking, "Why should it be thought a thing incredible
with you, that God should raise the dead?"

But the story of Jesus' birth and kindred Bible records disclose not
only the predisposition of the Syrian mind to accept miracles as divine
acts, without critical examination, but {22} also its attitude toward
conception and birth,--an attitude which differs fundamentally from
that of the Anglo-Saxon mind.  With the feeling of one who has been
reminded of having ignorantly committed an improper act, I remember the
time when kind American friends admonished me not to read from the
pulpit such scriptural passages as detailed the accounts of conception
and birth, but only to allude to them in a general way.  I learned in a
very short time to obey the kindly advice, but it was a long time
before I could swing my psychology around and understand why in America
such narratives were so greatly modified in transmission.

The very fact that such stories are found in the Bible shows that in my
native land no such sifting of these narratives is ever undertaken when
they are read to the people.  From childhood I had been accustomed to
hear them read at our church, related at the fireside, and discussed
reverently by men and women at all times and places.  There is nothing
in the {23} phraseology of such statements which is not in perfect
harmony with the common, everyday speech of my people.

To the Syrians, as I say, "children are a heritage from the Lord."
From the days of Israel to the present time, barrenness has been looked
upon as a sign of divine disfavor, an intolerable calamity.  Rachel's
cry, "Give me children, or else I die,"[2] does not exaggerate the
agony of a childless Syrian wife.  When Rebecca was about to depart
from her father's house to become Isaac's wife, her mother's ardent and
effusively expressed wish for her was, "Be thou the mother of thousands
of millions."[3]  This mother's last message to her daughter was not
spoken in a corner.  I can see her following the bride to the door,
lifting her open palms and turning her face toward heaven, and making
her affectionate petition in the hearing of a multitude of guests, who
must have echoed her words in chorus.

In the congratulations of guests at a {24} marriage feast the central
wish for the bridegroom and bride is invariably thus expressed: "May
you be happy, live long, and have many children!"  And what contrasts
very sharply with the American reticence in such matters is the fact
that shortly after the wedding, the friends of the young couple, both
men and women, begin to ask them about their "prospects" for an heir.
No more does a prospective mother undertake in any way to disguise the
signs of the approaching event, than an American lady to conceal her
engagement ring.  Much mirth is enjoyed in such cases, also, when
friends and neighbors, by consulting the stars, or computing the number
of letters in the names of the parents and the month in which the
miracle of conception is supposed to have occurred, undertake to
foretell whether the promised offspring will be a son or a daughter.
In that part of the country where I was brought up, such wise
prognosticators believed, and made us all believe, that if the
calculations resulted in an odd number the birth would be a son, but
{25} if in an even number, a daughter, which, as a rule, is not
considered so desirable.

Back of all these social traits, and beyond the free realism of the
Syrian in speaking of conception and birth, lies a deeper fact.  To
Eastern peoples, especially the Semites, reproduction in all the world
of life is profoundly sacred.  It is God's life reproducing itself in
the life of man and in the living world below man; therefore the
evidences of this reproduction should be looked upon and spoken of with
rejoicing.

Notwithstanding the many and fundamental intellectual changes which I
have undergone in this country of my adoption, I count as among the
most precious memories of my childhood my going with my father to the
vineyard, just as the vines began to "come out," and hearing him say as
he touched the swelling buds, "Blessed be the Creator.  He is the
Supreme Giver.  May He protect the blessed increase."  Of this I almost
always think when I read the words of the psalmist, "The earth is the
Lord's and the fullness thereof!"

{26}

Now I do not feel at all inclined to say whether the undisguised
realism of the Orientals in speaking of reproduction is better than the
delicate reserve of the Anglo-Saxons.  In fact, I have been so
reconstructed under Anglo-Saxon auspices as to feel that the excessive
reserve of this race with regard to such things is not a serious fault,
but rather the defect of a great virtue.  My purpose is to show that
the unreconstructed Oriental, to whom reproduction is the most sublime
manifestation of God's life, cannot see why one should be ashamed to
speak anywhere in the world of the fruits of wedlock, of a "woman with
child."  One might as well be ashamed to speak of the creative power as
it reveals itself in the gardens of roses and the fruiting trees.

Here we have the background of the stories of Sarah, when the
angel-guest prophesied fecundity for her in her old age; of Rebecca,
and the wish of her mother for her, that she might become "the mother
of thousands"; of Elizabeth, when the "babe leaped in her womb," {27}
as she saw her cousin Mary; and of the declaration of the angel to
Joseph's spouse; "Thou shalt conceive in thy womb and bring forth a
son."

Here it is explained, also, why upon the birth of a "man-child,"
well-wishers troop into the house,--even on the very day of
birth,--bring their presents, and congratulate the parents on the
divine gift to them.  It was because of this custom that those
strangers, the three "Wise Men" and Magi of the Far East, were
permitted to come in and see the little Galilean family, while the
mother was yet in childbed.  So runs the Gospel narrative: "And when
they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his
mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened
their treasures, they presented unto him gifts,--gold, frankincense,
and myrrh."[4]

So also were the humble shepherds privileged to see the wondrous child
shortly after birth.  "And it came to pass, as the angels were gone
away from them into heaven, the {28} shepherds said one to another, Let
us now go to Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which
the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found
Mary and Joseph and the babe lying in a manger."[5]

In the twelfth verse of the second chapter of the Gospel of St. Luke,
the English version says, "And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall
find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."  Here the
word "clothes" is somewhat misleading.  The Arabic version gives a
perfect rendering of the fact by saying, "Ye shall find a _swaddled_
babe, _laid_ in a manger."

According to general Syrian custom, in earliest infancy a child is not
really clothed, it is only swaddled.  Upon birth the infant is washed
in tepid water by the midwife, then salted, or rubbed gently with salt
pulverized in a stone mortar especially for the occasion.  (The salt
commonly used in Syrian homes is coarse-chipped.)  Next the babe is
sprinkled with {29} _rehan_,--a powder made of dried myrtle
leaves,--and then swaddled.

The swaddle is a piece of stout cloth about a yard square, to one
corner of which is attached a long narrow band.  The infant, with its
arms pressed close to its sides, and its feet stretched full length and
laid close together, is wrapped in the swaddle, and the narrow band
wound around the little body, from the shoulders to the ankles, giving
the little one the exact appearance of an Egyptian mummy.  Only a few
of the good things of this mortal life were more pleasant to me when I
was a boy than to carry in my arms a swaddled babe.  The "salted" and
"peppered" little creature felt so soft and so light, and was so
appealingly helpless, that to cuddle it was to me an unspeakable
benediction.

Such was the "babe of Bethlehem" that was sought by the Wise Men and
the shepherds in the wondrous story of the Nativity.

And in describing such Oriental customs it may be significant to point
out that, in certain {30} localities in Syria, to say to a person that
he was not "salted" upon birth is to invite trouble.  Only a _bendûq_,
or the child of an unrecognized father, is so neglected.  And here may
be realized the full meaning of that terrible arraignment of Jerusalem
in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Ezekiel.  The Holy City had
done iniquity, and therefore ceased to be the legitimate daughter of
Jehovah.  So the prophet cries, "The Lord came unto me, saying, Son of
man, cause Jerusalem to know her abominations, and say, Thus saith the
Lord God unto Jerusalem; Thy birth and thy nativity are of the land of
Canaan; thy father was an Amorite, and thy mother a Hittite.  And as
for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born--neither wast thou washed
in water to supple[6] thee; _thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled
at all_.  No eye pitied thee, to do any of these things for thee, to
have compassion upon thee; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to
the loathing of thy person, in the day thou wast born."



[1] Luke i: 28, 31.

[2] Gen. xxx; 1.

[3] Gen. xxiv: 60.

[4] Matt. ii: 11.

[5] Luke ii: 15-16.

[6] "Cleanse" in the Revised Version.




{31}

CHAPTER III

THE STAR

How natural to the thought of the East the story of the "star of
Bethlehem" is!  To the Orientals "the heavens declare the glory of
God," and the stars reveal many wondrous things to men.  They are the
messengers of good and evil, and objects of the loftiest idealization,
as well as of the crudest superstitions.  Those who have gazed upon the
stars in the deep, clear Syrian heavens can find no difficulty in
entering into the spirit of the majestic strains of the writer of the
eighth Psalm.  "When I consider thy heavens," says this ancient singer,
"the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast
ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of
man, that thou visitest him?"  Deeps beyond deeps are revealed through
that dry, soft, and clear atmosphere of the "land of promise," yet the
constellations seem as near {32} to the beholder as parlor lamps.  "My
soul longeth" for the vision of the heavens from the heights of my
native Lebanon, and the hills of Palestine.  It is no wonder to me that
my people have always considered the stars as guides and companions,
and as awe-inspiring manifestations of the Creator's power, wisdom, and
glory.  "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament
sheweth his handywork.  Day unto day uttereth speech and night unto
night sheweth knowledge."[1]

So great is the host of the stars seen by the naked eye in that land
that the people of Syria have always likened a great multitude to the
stars of heaven or the sand of the sea.  Of a great assemblage of
people we always said, "They are _methel-ennijoom_--like the stars" (in
number).  So it is written in the twenty-eighth chapter of Deuteronomy,
the sixty-second verse, "And ye shall be left few in number, whereas ye
were _as the stars of heaven for multitude_; because thou wouldst not
obey the {33} voice of the Lord thy God."  According to that great
narrative in Genesis, God promised Abraham that his progeny would be as
the stars in number.  In the fifteenth chapter, the fifth verse, it is
said, "And he brought him forth abroad, and said, Look now toward
heaven, and tell the stars, if thou be able to number them: and he said
unto him, So shall thy seed be."  In speaking of the omniscience of God
the writer of the one hundred and forty-seventh Psalm says, "He telleth
the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.  Great is
our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite."

But the numberless lights of the firmament were brought even closer to
us through the belief that they had vital connection with the lives of
men on the earth.  I was brought up to believe that every human being
had a star in heaven which held the secret of his destiny and which
watched over him wherever he went.  In speaking of an amiable person it
is said, "His star is attractive" (_nejmo jeddeeb_).  Persons {34} love
one another when "their stars are in harmony."  A person is in
unfavorable circumstances when his star is in the sphere of
"misfortune" (_nehiss_), and so forth.  The stars indicated the time to
us when we were traveling by night, marked the seasons, and thus
fulfilled their Creator's purpose by serving "for signs, and for
seasons, and for days and years."

In every community we had "star-gazers" who could tell each person's
star.  We placed much confidence in such mysterious men, who could
"arrest" an absent person's star in its course and learn from it
whether it was well or ill with the absent one.

Like a remote dream, it comes to me that as a child of about ten I went
out one night with my mother to seek a "star-gazer" to locate my
father's star and question the shining orb about him.  My father had
been away from home for some time, and owing to the meagerness of the
means of communication in that country, especially in those days, we
had no news of him at all.  During that afternoon {35} my mother said
that she felt "heavy-hearted" for no reason that she knew; therefore
she feared that some ill must have befallen the head of our household,
and sought to "know" whether her fear was well grounded.  The
"star-arrester," leaning against an aged mulberry tree, turned his eyes
toward the stellar world, while his lips moved rapidly and silently as
if he were repeating words of awful import.  Presently he said, "I see
him.  He is sitting on a cushion, leaning against the wall and smoking
his _narghile_.  There are others with him, and he is in his usual
health."  The man took pains to point out the "star" to my mother, who,
after much sympathetic effort, felt constrained to say that she did see
what the star-gazer claimed he saw.  But at any rate, mother declared
that she was no longer "heavy-hearted."

In my most keen eagerness to see my father and his _narghile_ in the
star, at least for mere intellectual delight, I clung to the arm of the
reader of the heavens like a frightened kitten, {36} and insisted upon
"seeing."  The harder he tried to shake me off, the deeper did my
organs of apprehension sink into his sleeve.  At last the combined
efforts of my mother and the heir of the ancient astrologers forced me
to believe that I was "too young to behold such sights."

It was the excessive leaning of his people upon such practices that led
Isaiah to cry, "Thou art wearied in the multitude of thy counsels.  Let
now the astrologers, the star-gazers, the monthly prognosticators,
stand up and save thee from these things that shall come upon thee.
Behold, they shall be as stubble; the fire shall burn them; they shall
not deliver themselves from the power of the flames."

Beyond all such crudities, however, lies the sublime and sustaining
belief that the stars are alive with God.  The lofty strains of such
scriptural passages as the nineteenth Psalm and the beautiful story of
the star of Bethlehem, indicate that to the Oriental mind the "hosts of
heaven" are no mere masses of dust, {37} but the agencies of the
Creator's might and love.  So the narrative of the Nativity in our
Gospel sublimates the beliefs of the Orientals about God's purpose in
those lights of the firmament, by making the guide of the Wise Men to
the birthplace of the Prince of Peace a great star, whose pure and
serene light symbolized the peace and holiness which, in the "fullness
of time," his kingdom shall bring upon the earth.

The presentation of a child at the temple, or the "admittance of an
infant into the Church," is one of the most tender, most beautiful, and
most impressive services of my Mother Church--the Greek Orthodox.[2]
It is held for every child born within that fold, in commemoration of
the presentation of Jesus at the temple in Jerusalem.  As Luke tells us
(11:22), "And when the days of her purification according to the law of
Moses were accomplished, they brought him to Jerusalem, to present him
to the Lord."

{38}

The purification period "according to the law of Moses" is forty
days.[3]  Until this is "accomplished," the mother is not permitted to
enter into the house of worship.  As a general rule the baptismal
service, which takes place any time between the eighth day and the
fortieth day after birth, is held at the home.  On the first Sabbath
day after the "forty days," the mother carries the infant to the door
of the church during mass, where the robed priest, who has been
previously applied to for the sacred rite, meets the mother and
receives the child in his arms.  After making the sign of the cross
with the child at the door, the priest says, "Now enters the servant of
God [naming the child] into the Holy Church, in the name of the Father,
and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.  Amen."  Then the priest walks into
the church with the child, saying, in its behalf, "I will come into thy
house in the multitude of thy mercy: and in thy fear will I worship
toward thy holy temple."[4]  As he {39} approaches the center of the
church, he says again, "Now enters the servant of God," etc.  Then
standing in the center of the church, and surrounded by the reverently
silent congregation, the priest says again, in behalf of the child, "In
the midst of the congregation will I praise thee, O Lord."[5]  Again,
in front of the Royal Gate (the central door in the _anastasis_, or
partition which screens the altar from the congregation) the priest
says for the third time, "Now enters the servant of God," etc.  After
this the priest carries the infant through the north door, which is to
the left of the Royal Gate, into the _mizbeh_, which corresponds to the
"holy place" in the ancient temple.  Here he walks around the _maideh_
(altar of sacrifice), makes the sign of the cross with the child, and
walks out into the midst of the congregation, through the south door.
In this position the priest utters as his final petition the words of
the aged Simeon (Luke 11:29), "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace, {40} according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen
thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people;
a light to lighten the gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel."
Then he delivers the child back to its mother.  Female children are
presented in front of the Royal Gate, but are not admitted into the
_mizbeh_.



[1] Ps. xix: 1-2.

[2] See the author's autobiography, _A Far Journey_, p. 4.

[3] Lev. xii: 2-4.

[4] Ps. v: 7.

[5] Ps. xx: 22.




{41}

CHAPTER IV

MYSTIC TONES

I love to listen to the mystic tones of the Christmas carol.  The story
of the "star of Bethlehem" is the medium of transmission of those
deeper strains which have come into the world through the soul of that
ancient East.  I love to mingle with the social joys of the Christmas
season and its spirit of good-will, the mystic accents of the ancient
seers who expressed in the rich narratives of the New Testament the
deepest and dearest hopes of the soul.

I leave most respectfully to the "Biblical critic" the task of
assigning to the narrative of the Nativity its rightful place in the
history of the New Testament.  My deep interest in this story centers
in those spiritual ideals it reveals, which have through the ages
exercised such beneficent influences over the minds of men.  And I
believe that both as a Christian {42} and as an Oriental, I have a
perfect right to be a mystic, after the wholesome New Testament fashion.

In the second chapter of St. Luke's Gospel the story of the Nativity is
presented in a most exquisite poetical form.  The vision of humble
shepherds, wise men, and angels, mingling together in the joy of a new
divine revelation, could have been caught only by a deep-visioned
spiritual artist.  Had this fragment of religious literature been
discovered in this year of 1916, its appearance would have marked a
significant epoch in the history of religion.  It is the expression of
a sublime and passionate desire of the soul for divine companionship
and for infinite peace.

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field,
keeping watch over their flocks by night.

"And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the
Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not; {43} for, behold, I bring you
good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is
Christ the Lord.

"And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host
praising God, and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

When the angel delivered his message to the effect that God had visited
his people in the person of the new-born Christ, then the humble,
unlettered shepherds heard the heavenly song, which gave God the glory,
and prophesied peace and good-will for all mankind.  Could there be
anything more profoundly and accurately interpretative of the deepest
hopes of the human soul than this picture?  Even the uncouth shepherds,
being living souls, could realize that when the divine and the {44}
human met heaven and earth became one, and peace and good-will
prevailed among men.  What encouragement, what hope this vision holds
out even to the humblest among men!  What assurance that heaven with
all its treasures of peace and love is so near to our dust!

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you glad
tidings."  The shepherds looked up to heaven through the eyes of all
mankind.  It was the upward look of a world-old hope.  No soul ever
looked up to heaven with different results.  The divine response always
is, "Fear not, for I bring you good tidings!"  No soul ever needs to
dwell in doubt and fear.  No soul ever needs to be lonely and forlorn.
Heaven has nothing for us but "good tidings of great joy."  The higher
powers are near at hand, and the soul of man may have invisible
companions.

Again we learn from this New Testament passage that in the visit of the
shepherds and the Wise Men to the holy child both were equally blest.
Both those who were steeped {45} in the wisdom of that ancient East and
the simple-minded sons of the desert stood at the shrine of a holy
personality as naked souls, divested of all artificial human
distinctions.  There were no "assigned" pews in that little shrine.
All those who came into it by way of the heart received a blessing, and
went away praising God.  Here we have a foregleam of that longed-for
kingdom of God--the home of all aspiring and seeking souls, regardless
of rank and station.

  "There is no great and no small
  To the soul that maketh all:
  And where it cometh, all things are;
  And it cometh everywhere."


The Christmas carol is dear to the human heart because it is a song of
spiritual optimism.  To pessimism the heavens are closed and silent;
the world has no windows opening toward the Infinite.  Pessimism cannot
sing because it has no hope, and cannot pray because it has no faith.

And I deem it essential at this point to ask, {46} Whither is the
spirit of the present age leading us?  Are we drifting away from the
mount of vision?  There seems to be but little room in this vast and
complex life of ours for spiritual dreams and visions.  The combination
of our commercial activities and the never-ceasing whir of the wheels
of our industries close up our senses to the intimate whisperings of
the divine spirit.  We see, but with the outward eye.  We hear, but
with the outward ear.  Our inward senses are in grave danger of dying
altogether from lack of exercise.  The things of this life are too much
with us, and they render us oblivious to the gracious beckonings of the
higher world.  Let not the lesser interests of this life close our
hearing to the angel-song which never dies upon the air.  The star of
hope never sets, and God's revelations are from everlasting to
everlasting.




{47}

CHAPTER V

FILIAL OBEDIENCE

Of Jesus' life between the period spoken of in the narrative of the
Nativity and the time when he appeared on the banks of the Jordan,
seeking to be baptized by John, the New Testament says nothing.  One
single incident only is mentioned.  When twelve years old, the boy
Jesus went with his parents on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  Annual
pilgrimages to the great shrines are still very common in Syria.  The
Mohammedans go to Mecca, the Christians and the Jews to Jerusalem.  But
there are many other and more accessible sanctuaries which are
frequented by the faithful in all those communions.  However, a visit
to any other sanctuary than Jerusalem and Mecca is called _zeara_,
rather than a pilgrimage.[1]  The simple record of Jesus' pilgrimage to
Jerusalem with his parents is that of a typical {48} experience.  In
writing about it I seem to myself to be giving a personal reminiscence.

In the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke, the forty-first verse, it
is said: "Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of
the passover.  And when he was twelve years old, they went up to
Jerusalem after the custom of the feast.  And when they had fulfilled
the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in
Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it.  But they,
supposing him to have been in the company, went a day's journey; and
they sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance.  And when they
found him not, they turned back again to Jerusalem, seeking him."

In Syria male children are taken on a pilgrimage or _zeara_, and thus
permitted to receive the blessing, which this pious act is supposed to
bring upon them, as soon as they are able to make the journey.  Full
maturity is no essential condition.  I went with my parents on two
_zearas_ before I was fifteen.  At the {49} present time there is no
definite rule, at least among Christians, as to how many days should be
spent at a sanctuary.  Pilgrims usually "vow" to stay a certain number
of days.  In ancient Judaism, "the feast of the passover" occupied
eight days, and it was that number of days which Mary and Joseph
"fulfilled."

According to Luke, on their return journey to Nazareth Jesus' parents
went a day's journey before they discovered that he was not with them.
This phase of the story seems to have greatly puzzled the good old
commentator, Adam Clarke.  "Knowing what a treasure they possessed," he
observes, "how could they be so long without looking on it?  Where were
the bowels and tender solicitude of the mother?  Let them answer this
question who can."

Clarke did not need to be so perplexed or so mystified.  For one who
knows the customs of the Syrians while on religious pilgrimages knows
also that the experience of the "holy family" was not at all a strange
one.  The whole mystery is cleared up in the saying, {50} "And they
sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance."  Kinsfolk and
acquaintances travel in large groups, and the young pilgrims, such as
the twelve-year-old Jesus, are considered safe so long as they keep in
close touch with the company.  On such journeys, parents may not see
their sons for hours at a time.  The homogeneous character of the
group, and the sense of security which faith gives, especially at such
times, present no occasion for anxiety concerning the dear ones.

The saying of Luke that Joseph and Mary "went a day's journey" before
they discovered that Jesus was not in the company must, it seems to me,
include also the time consumed in their return journey to Jerusalem to
seek their son.  Perhaps they discovered his absence about noontime
when the company halted by a spring of water to partake of the _zad_
(food for the way).  At such a time families gather together to break
bread.  And what I feel certain of also is that the boy Jesus must have
been with his parents when they first {51} set out on their homeward
journey early in the morning from Jerusalem, and that he detached
himself from his kinsfolk and returned to the holy city shortly after
the company had left that place.  No Syrian family ever would start out
on a journey before every one of its members had been accounted for.
The evangelist's omission of these details is easily understood.  His
purpose was not to give a photographic account of all that happened on
the way.  It was rather to reveal the lofty spiritual ideals which led
the boy Jesus to return to the temple, where he was found by his
anxious parents "sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing
them, and asking them questions."

In this brief but significant record of all the filial graces which
Jesus must have possessed one only is mentioned in the second chapter
of the Gospel of Luke, where it is stated that he went down to Nazareth
with his parents "and was subject unto them."

This seemingly casual remark is full of {52} significance.  With us in
Syria, _ta'at-el-walideen_ (obedience to parents) has always been
youth's crowning virtue.  Individual initiative must not overstep the
boundary line of this grace.  Only in this way the patriarchal
organization of the family can be kept intact.  In my boyhood days in
that romantic country, whenever my father took me with him on a "visit
of homage" to one of the lords of the land, the most fitting thing such
a dignitary could do to me was to place his hand upon my head and say
with characteristic condescension, "Bright boy, and no doubt obedient
to your parents."

As regards the grace of filial obedience, I am not aware of a definite
break between the East and the West.  But there is a vital difference.
To an Oriental who has just come to this country, the American youth
seem to be indifferent to filial obedience.  The strong passion for
freedom, the individualistic sense which is a pronounced characteristic
of the aggressive Anglo-Saxon, and the economic stress {53} which ever
tends to scatter the family group, and which the East has never
experienced so painfully as the West has, all convey the impression
that parental love and filial obedience are fast disappearing from
American society.  But to those of us sons of the East who have
intimate knowledge of the American family, its cohesion does not seem
to be so alarmingly weak.  The mad rush for "business success" is
indeed a menace to the American home, but love and obedience are still
vital forces in that home.  The terms "father," "mother," "brother,"
and "sister," have by no means lost their spiritual charms in American
society.  The deep affection in which the members of the better
American family hold one another and the exquisite regard they have for
one another command profound respect.

But the vital difference between the East and the West is that to
Easterners filial obedience is more than a social grace and an evidence
of natural affection.  It is a _religious_ duty of far-reaching
significance.  God commands {54} it.  "Thou shalt honor thy father and
thy mother" is a divine command.  The "displeasure" of a parent is as
much to be feared as the wrath of God.  This sense permeates Syrian
society from the highest to the lowest of its ranks.

The explanation of the origin of sin in the third chapter of Genesis
touches the very heart of this matter.  The writer ascribes the "fall
of man," not to any act which was in itself really harmful, but to
disobedience.  Adam was commanded by his divine parent not to eat of
the "tree of knowledge of good and evil"; but he did eat, and
consequently became a stranger to the blessings of his original home.

This idea of filial obedience has been at once the strength and
weakness of Orientals.  In the absence of the restraining interests of
a larger social life this patriarchal rule has preserved the cohesion
of the domestic and clannish group, and thus safeguarded for the people
their primitive virtues.  On the other hand, it has served to
extinguish the spirit of {55} progress, and has thus made Oriental life
a monotonous repetition of antiquated modes of thought.

And it was indeed a great blessing to the world when Jesus broke away
from mere formal obedience to parents, in the Oriental sense of the
word, and declared, "Whosoever shall do the will of my Father in
heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother."



[1] See above, p. 14.




{56}

CHAPTER VI

FEAST AND SACRAMENT

Of Jesus' public ministry and his characteristics as an Oriental
teacher, I shall speak in later chapters.  Here I will give space only
to a portrayal of the closing scenes in his personal career.  The
events of the "upper room" on Mount Zion, and of Gethsemane, are
faithful photographs of striking characteristics of Syrian life.

The Last Supper was no isolated event in Syrian history.  Its fraternal
atmosphere, intimate associations, and sentimental intercourse are such
as characterize every such gathering of Syrian friends, especially in
the shadow of an approaching danger.  From the simple "table manners"
up to that touch of sadness and idealism which the Master gave that
meal,--bestowing upon it the sacrificial character that has been its
propelling force through the ages,--I find nothing which is {57} not in
perfect harmony with what takes place on such occasions in my native
land.  The sacredness of the Last Supper is one of the emphatic
examples of how Jesus' life and words sanctified the commonest things
of life.  He was no inventor of new things, but a discoverer of the
spiritual significance of things known to men to be ordinary.

The informal formalities of Oriental life are brimful of sentiment.
The Oriental's chief concern in matters of conduct is not the
correctness of the technique, but the cordiality of the deed.  To the
Anglo-Saxon the Oriental appears to be perhaps too cordial, decidedly
sentimental, and over-responsive to the social stimulus.  To the
Oriental, on the other hand, the Anglo-Saxon seems in danger of
becoming an unemotional intellectualist.

Be that as it may, the Oriental is never afraid to "let himself go" and
to give free course to his feelings.  The Bible in general and such
portions of it as the story of the Last Supper in particular illustrate
this phase of Oriental life.

{58}

In Syria, as a general rule, the men eat their fraternal feasts alone,
as in the case of the Master and his disciples at the Last Supper,
when, so far as the record goes, none of the women followers of Christ
were present.  They sit on the floor in something like a circle, and
eat out of one or a few large, deep dishes.  The food is lifted into
the mouth, not with a fork or spoon,--except in the case of liquid
food,--but with small "shreds" of thin bread.  Even liquid food is
sometimes "dipped up" with pieces of bread formed like the bowl of a
spoon.  Here may be readily understood Jesus' saying, "He that dippeth
his hand with me in the dish, the same shall betray me."[1]

In his famous painting, The Last Supper, Leonardo da Vinci presents an
Oriental event in an Occidental form.  The high table, the chairs, the
individual plates and drinking-glasses are European rather than Syrian
appointments.  From a historical standpoint, the picture is misleading.
But Da Vinci's great {59} production was not intended to be a
historical, but a character, study.  Such a task could not have been
accomplished if the artist had presented the Master and his disciples
as they really sat in the "upper room"--in a circle.  He seats them on
one side of the table, divides them into four groups of three each--two
groups on each side of the Master.  As we view the great painting, we
feel the thrill of horror which agitated the loyal disciples when Jesus
declared, "Verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me."[2]
The gestures, the sudden change of position, and the facial expression
reveal the innermost soul of each disciple.  This is the central
purpose of the picture.  The artist gave the event a European rather
than an Oriental setting, in order to make it more intelligible to the
people for whom it was intended.

But the appointments of the Great Supper were genuinely Oriental.  The
Master and his disciples sat on the floor and ate out of one or {60} a
few large, deep dishes.  In Mark's account of that event[3] we read:
"And when it was evening he cometh with the twelve.  And as they sat
and were eating, Jesus said, Verily I say unto you, One of you shall
betray me, even he that _eateth_ with me."  The fact that they were
_all_ eating with him is shown in the statement, "They began to be
sorrowful, and to say unto him, Is it I?  And he said unto them, It is
one of the twelve, he that dippeth with me in the dish."

The last sentence, "He that dippeth with me in the dish," has been
construed to mean that it was Judas only (who was sitting near to
Jesus) who was dipping in the dish out of which the Master was eating.
This is altogether possible, but by no means certain.  The fact is that
according to Syrian customs on such occasions each of the few large
dishes contains a different kind of food.  Each one of the guests is
privileged to reach to any one of the dishes and dip his bread in it.
From this it may be {61} safely inferred that several or all of the
disciples dipped _in turn_ in the dish which was nearest to Jesus.  The
fact that the other disciples did not know whom their Master meant by
his saying that one of them should betray him, even after he had said,
"He that dippeth with me in the dish," shows plainly that Judas was
eating in the same fashion as all the other disciples were.

Therefore the saying, "He that dippeth with me," etc., was that of
disappointed love.  It may be thus paraphrased: "I have loved you all
alike.  I have chosen you as my dearest friends.  We have often broken
bread and sorrowed and rejoiced together, yet one of you, my dear
disciples, one who is now eating with me _as the rest are_, intends to
betray me!"

And that forlorn but glorious company who met in the upper room on
Mount Zion on that historic night had certainly one cup out of which
they drank.  At our feasts we always drank the wine out of one and the
same cup.  We did not stay up nights thinking about {62} microbes.  To
us the one cup meant fellowship and fraternal communion.  The one who
gives drink (_sacky_) fills the cup and passes it to the most honored
member of the company first.  He drinks the contents and returns the
cup to the _sacky_, who fills it again and hands it to another member
of the group, and so on, until all have been served once.  Then the
guests drink again by way of _nezel_.  It is not easy to translate this
word into English.  The English word "treating" falls very short of
expressing the affectionate regard which the _nezel_ signifies.  The
one guest upon receiving the cup wishes for the whole company "health,
happiness, and length of days."  Then he singles out one of the group
and begs him to accept the next cup that is poured as a pledge of his
affectionate regard.  The pourer complies with the request by handing
the next cup to the person thus designated, who drinks it with the most
effusive and affectionate reciprocation of his friend's sentiments.  It
is also customary for a gracious host to request as a {63} happy ending
to the feast that the contents of one cup be drunk by the whole company
as a seal of their friendship with one another.  Each guest takes a sip
and passes the cup to the one next to him until all have partaken of
the "fruit of the vine."

I have no doubt that it was after this custom that the disciples drank
when Jesus "took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave to
them: and they _all_ drank of it."[4]

No account of fraternal feasting in Syria can be complete without
mention of the _z[i-breve]kreh_ (remembrance).  To be remembered by his
friends after his departure from them is one of the Syrian's deepest
and dearest desires.  The _z[i-breve]kreh_ plays a very important part
in the literature of the East, and expresses the tenderest spirit of
its poetry.  The expressions "I remember," "remember me," "your
remembrance," "the remembrance of those days" and like phrases are
legion among the Syrians.  "O friends," cries the Arabian poet, {64}
"let your remembrance of us be as constant as our remembrance of you;
for such a remembrance brings near those that are far away."

Rarely do friends who have been feasting together part without this
request being made by those of them who do not expect to meet with
their friends again for a time.  "Remember me when you meet again," is
said by the departing friend with unspeakable tenderness.  He is
affectionately grateful also when he knows that he is held in
remembrance by his friends.  So St. Paul pours out his soul in grateful
joy for his friends' remembrance of him.  "But now when Timotheus came
from you unto us, and brought us good tidings of your faith and
charity, and that _ye have good remembrance of us always, desiring
greatly to see us, as we also to see you_."[5]

This affectionate request, "remember me," signifies, "I love you,
therefore I am always with you."  If we love one another, we cannot
{65} be separated from one another.  The _z[)i]ikreh_ is the bond of
fraternity between us.

Was not this the very thing which the Master meant when he said, "This
do in remembrance of me"?[6]  The disciples were asked never to allow
themselves to forget their Master's love for them and for the world:
never to forget that if his love lived in their hearts he was always
with them, present at their feasts, and in their struggles in the world
to lead the world from darkness into light.  "This do in remembrance of
me," is therefore the equivalent of "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto
the end of the world."[7]

"Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus
loved."[8]  The posture of the "beloved disciple," John,--so
objectionable to Occidental taste,--is in perfect harmony with Syrian
customs.  How often have I seen men friends in such an attitude.  There
is not in it the slightest infringement of the rules of propriety; the
act was as natural {66} to us all as shaking hands.  The practice is
especially indulged in when intimate friends are about to part from one
another, as on the eve of a journey, or when about to face a dangerous
undertaking.  They then sit with their heads leaning against each
other, or the one's head resting upon the other's shoulder or breast.

They talk to one another in terms of unbounded intimacy and
unrestrained affection.  The expressions, "My brother," "My eyes," "My
soul," "My heart," and the like, form the life-centers of the
conversation.  "My life, my blood are for you; take the very sight of
my eyes, if you will!"  And lookers-on say admiringly, "Behold, how
they love one another!  By the name of the Most High, they are closer
than brothers."

Was it, therefore, strange that the Master, who knew the deepest secret
of the divine life, and whose whole life was a living sacrifice, should
say to his intimate friends, as he handed them the bread and the cup on
that {67} momentous night, "Take, eat; this is my body"; and "Drink ye
all of it; for this is my blood"?  Here again the Nazarene charged the
ordinary words of friendly intercourse with rare spiritual richness and
made the common speech of his people express eternal realities.

But let me here call attention to Da Vinci's master-stroke which
changes for a moment John's posture and relieves the Last Supper of a
feature which is so objectionable to Occidental taste.  The artist
seizes the moment when Peter pulled John from Jesus' breast by
beckoning to the beloved disciple "that he should ask who it should be
of whom he spoke" (the one who should betray him).  John remains in the
attitude of loving repose; he simply lifts his body for an instant, and
inclines his head to hear Peter.

The treachery of Judas is no more an Oriental than it is a human
weakness.  Traitors can claim neither racial nor national refuge.  They
are fugitives in the earth.  But in the Judas episode is involved one
of the most tender, {68} most touching acts of Jesus' whole life.  To
one familiar with the customs of the East, Jesus' handing the "sop" to
his betrayer was an act of surpassing beauty and significance.  In all
my life in America I have not heard a preacher interpret this simple
deed, probably because of lack of knowledge of its meaning in Syrian
social intercourse.

"And when he had dipped the sop, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son
of Simon."[9]  At Syrian feasts, especially in the region where Jesus
lived, such sops are handed to those who stand and serve the guests
with wine and water.  But in a more significant manner those morsels
are exchanged by friends.  Choice bits of food are handed to friends by
one another, as signs of close intimacy.  It is never expected that any
person would hand such a sop to one for whom he cherishes no friendship.

I can never contemplate this act in the Master's story without thinking
of "the love of Christ which passeth knowledge."  To the one {69} who
carried in his mind and heart a murderous plot against the loving
Master, Jesus handed the sop of friendship, the morsel which is never
offered to an enemy.  The rendering of the act in words is this:
"Judas, my disciple, I have infinite pity for you.  You have proved
false, you have forsaken me in your heart; but I will not treat you as
an enemy, for I have come, not to destroy, but to fulfill.  Here is my
sop of friendship, and 'that thou doest, do quickly.'"

Apparently Jesus' demeanor was so cordial and sympathetic that, as the
evangelist tells us, "Now no man at the table knew for what intent he
spake this unto him.  For some of them thought, because Judas had the
bag, that Jesus had said unto him, Buy those things that we have need
of against the feast, or that he should give something to the poor."[10]

Thus in this simple act of the Master, so rarely noticed by preachers,
we have perhaps the finest practical example of "Love your enemies" in
the entire Gospel.

{70}

Is it therefore to be wondered at that in speaking of Judas, the writer
of St. John's Gospel says, "And after the sop Satan entered into him"?
For, how can one who is a traitor at heart reach for the gift of true
friendship without being transformed into the very spirit of treason?

Again, Judas's treasonable kiss in Gethsemane was a perversion of an
ancient, deeply cherished, and universally prevalent Syrian custom.  In
saluting one another, especially after having been separated for a
time, men friends of the same social rank kiss one another on both
cheeks, sometimes with very noisy profusion.  When they are not of the
same social rank, the inferior kisses the hand of the superior, while
the latter at least pretends to kiss his dutiful friend upon the cheek.
So David and Jonathan "kissed one another, until David exceeded."
Paul's command, "Salute one another with a holy kiss," so scrupulously
disobeyed by Occidental Christians, is characteristically Oriental.  As
a child I always felt {71} a profound reverential admiration for that
unreserved outpouring of primitive affections, when strong men "fell
upon one another's neck" and kissed, while the women's eyes swam in
tears of joy.  The passionate, quick, and rhythmic exchange of
affectionate words of salutation and kisses sounded, with perhaps a
little less harmony, like an intermingling of vocal and instrumental
music.

So Judas, when "forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, Master, and
kissed him,"[11] invented no new sign by which to point Jesus out to
the Roman soldiers, but employed an old custom for the consummation of
an evil design.  Just as Jesus glorified the common customs of his
people by using them as instruments of love, so Judas degraded those
very customs by wielding them as weapons of hate.



[1] Matt. xxvi: 23.

[2] Matt. xxvi: 21.

[3] Revised Version, xiv: 17-20.

[4] Mark xiv: 23.

[5] 1 Thess.  iii: 6.

[6] Luke xxii: 19.

[7] Matt. xxviii: 10.

[8] John xiii: 23.

[9] John xiii: 26.

[10] John xiii: 28, 29.

[11] Matt. xxvi: 49.




{72}

CHAPTER VII

THE LAST SCENE

Perhaps nowhere else in the New Testament do the fundamental traits of
the Oriental nature find so clear an expression as in this closing
scene of the Master's life.  The Oriental's _dependence_, to which the
world owes the loftiest and tenderest Scriptural passages, finds here
its most glorious manifestations.

As I have already intimated, the Oriental is never afraid to "let
himself go," whether in joy or sorrow, and to give vent to his
emotions.  It is of the nature of the Anglo-Saxon to suffer in silence,
and to kill when he must, with hardly a word of complaint upon his lips
or a ripple of excitement on his face.  He disdains asking for
sympathy.  His severely individualistic tendencies and spirit of
endurance convince him that he is "able to take care of himself."
During my early years in this country the reserve of Americans in times
of sorrow {73} and danger, as well as in times of joy, was to me not
only amazing, but appalling.  Not being as yet aware of their inward
fire and intensity of feeling, held in check by a strong bulwark of
calm calculation, as an unreconstructed Syrian I felt prone to doubt
whether they had any emotions to speak of.

It is not my purpose here to undertake a comparative critical study of
these opposing traits, but to state that, for good or evil, the
Oriental is preëminently a man who craves sympathy, yearns openly and
noisily for companionship, and seeks help and support outside himself.
Whatever disadvantages this trait may involve, it has been the one
supreme qualification that has made the Oriental the religious teacher
of the whole world.  It was his childlike dependence on God that gave
birth to the twenty-third and fifty-first Psalms, and made the Lord's
Prayer the universal petition of Christendom.  It was also this
dependence on companionship, human and divine, which inspired the great
commandments, {74} "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and thy neighbor as thyself."

Now it is in the light of this fundamental Oriental trait that we must
view Christ's utterances at the Last Supper and in Gethsemane.  The
record tells us that while at the Supper he said to his disciples,
"With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I
suffer,"[1]--or, as the marginal note has it, "I have heartily
desired," and so forth, which brings it nearer the original text.
Again, "He was troubled in spirit, and testified and said, Verily,
verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me."  "This is my
body ... This is my blood ... Do this in remembrance of me."  We must
seek the proper setting for these utterances, not merely in the upper
room in Zion, but in the deepest tendencies of the Oriental mind.

And the climax is reached in the dark hour of Gethsemane, in the hour
of intense suffering, imploring need, and ultimate triumph in {75}
Jesus' surrender to the Father's will.  How true to that demonstrative
Oriental nature is the Scriptural record, "And being in an agony he
prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of
blood falling down to the ground."[2]

The faithful and touching realism of the record here is an example of
the childlike responsiveness of the Syrian nature to feelings of
sorrow, no less striking than the experience itself.  It seems to me
that if an Anglo-Saxon teacher in similar circumstances had ever
allowed himself to agonize and to sweat "as it were great drops of
blood," his chronicler in describing the scene would have safeguarded
the dignity of his race by simply saying that the distressed teacher
was "visibly affected"!

The darkness deepened and the Master "took with him Peter and the two
sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very heavy.  Then saith
he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death; tarry
{76} ye here, and watch with me."[3]  Three times did the Great Teacher
utter that matchless prayer, whose spirit of fear as well as of trust
vindicates the doctrine of the humanity of God and the divinity of man
as exemplified in the person of Christ: "O my Father, if it be
possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as
thou wilt!"[4]

The sharp contrast between the Semitic and the Anglo-Saxon temperament
has led some unfriendly critics of Christ to state very complacently
and confidently that he "simply broke down when the critical hour
came."  In this assertion I find a very pronounced misapprehension of
the facts.  If my knowledge of the traits of my own race is to be
relied on, then in trying to meet this assertion I feel that I am
entitled to the consideration of one who speaks with something
resembling authority.

The simple fact is that while in Gethsemane, as indeed everywhere else
throughout his ministry, Jesus was not in the position of one {77}
trying to "play the hero."  His companions were his intimate earthly
friends and his gracious heavenly Father, and to them he spoke as an
Oriental would speak to those dear to him,--_just as he felt_, with not
a shadow of show or sham.  His words were not those of weakness and
despair, but of confidence and affection.  The love of his friends and
the love of his Father in heaven were his to draw upon in his hour of
trial, with not the slightest artificial reserve.  How much better and
happier this world would be if we all dealt with one another and with
God in the warm, simple, and pure love of Christ!

As the life and words of Christ amply testify, the vision of the
Oriental has been to teach mankind not science, logic, or
jurisprudence, but a simple, loving, childlike faith in God.
Therefore, before we can fully know our Master as the cosmopolitan
Christ, we must first know him as the Syrian Christ.



[1] Luke xxii: 15.

[2] Luke xxii: 44.

[3] Matt. xxvi: 37-38.

[4] _Ibid._ 39.




{81}

PART II

THE ORIENTAL MANNER OF SPEECH




CHAPTER I

DAILY LANGUAGE

The Oriental I have in mind is the Semite, the dweller of the Near
East, who, chiefly through the Bible, has exerted an immense influence
on the life and literature of the West.  The son of the Near East is
more emotional, more intense, and more communicative than his
Far-Eastern neighbors.  Although very old in point of time, his
temperament remains somewhat juvenile, and his manner of speech
intimate and unreserved.

From the remote past, even to this day, the Oriental's manner of speech
has been that of a worshipper, and not that of a business man or an
industrial worker in the modern Western sense.  To the Syrian of
to-day, as to his ancient ancestors, life, with all its activities and
cares, revolves around a religious center.

Of course this does not mean that his religion {82} has not always been
beset with clannish limitations and clouded by superstitions, or that
the Oriental has always had a clear, active consciousness of the
sanctity of human life.  But it does mean that this man, serene or
wrathful, at work or at play, praying or swearing, has never failed to
believe that he is overshadowed by the All-seeing God.  He has never
ceased to cry: "O Lord, Thou hast searched me, and known me.  Thou
knowest my downsitting and mine uprising; Thou understandest my thought
afar off.  Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand
upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot
attain unto it!"[1]

And it is one of the grandest, most significant facts in human history
that, notwithstanding his intellectual limitations and superstitious
fears, because he has maintained the altar of God as life's center of
gravity, and never let die the consciousness that he was compassed
about by the living God, the Oriental {83} has been the channel of the
sublimest spiritual revelation in the possession of man.

The histories of races are the records of their desires and rewards, of
their seeking and finding.  The law of compensation is all-embracing.
In the long run "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."[2]
"He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which
soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully."[3]  In the material
world the Oriental has sown but sparingly, and his harvests here have
also been very meager.  He has not achieved much in the world of
science, industry, and commerce.  As an industrial worker he has
remained throughout his long history a user of hand tools.  Previous to
his very recent contact with the West, he never knew what structural
iron and machinery were.  As a merchant he has always been a simple
trader.  He has never been a man of many inventions.  His faithful
repetition of the past has left no gulf between him and his remote
ancestors.  {84} The implements and tools he uses to-day are like those
his forefathers used in their day.

The supreme choice of the Oriental has been religion.  To say that this
choice has not been altogether a conscious one, that it has been the
outcome of temperament, does by no means lessen its significance.  From
the beginning of his history on the earth to this day the Oriental has
been conscious above all things of two supreme realities--God and the
soul.  What has always seemed to him to be his first and almost only
duty was and is to form the most direct, most intimate connection
between God and the soul.  "The fear of the Lord," meaning most
affectionate reverence, is to the son of the East not "the beginning of
wisdom" as the English Bible has it, but the _height_ or _acme_ of
wisdom.  His first concern about his children is that they should know
themselves as living souls, and God as their Creator and Father.  An
unbeliever in God has always been to the East a strange phenomenon.  I
never heard of atheism or of an atheist before {85} I came in touch
with Western culture in my native land.

My many years of intimate and sympathetic contact with the more varied,
more intelligent life of the West has not tended in the least to lessen
my reverence for religion nor to lower my regard for culture.  Culture
gives strength and symmetry to religious thought, and religion gives
life and beauty to culture.  And just as I believe that men should pray
without ceasing, so also do I believe that they should strive to make
their religious faith ever more free and more intelligent.

Yet the history of the Orient compels me to believe that the soil out
of which scriptures spring is that whose life is the active sympathy of
religion, regardless of the degree of acquired knowledge.  When the
depths of human nature are thoroughly saturated with this sympathy,
then it is prepared both to receive and to give those thoughts of which
scriptures are made.  Industry and commerce have their good uses.  But
an industrial and {86} commercialistic atmosphere is not conducive to
the production of sacred books.  Where the chief interests of life
center in external things, religion is bound to become only one and
perhaps a minor concern in life.

The Oriental has always lived in a world of spiritual mysteries.
Fearful or confident, superstitious or rational, to him God has been
all and in all.  "The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous
altogether.  In keeping of them there is great reward."[4]  The son of
the East has been richly rewarded.  He is the religious teacher of all
mankind.  Through him all scriptures have come into being.  All the
great, living religions of the world originated in Asia; and the three
greatest of them--Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism--have come
into the world through the Semitic race in that little country called
Syria.  The perpetual yearning of the Oriental for spiritual dreams and
visions has had its rewards.  He sowed bountifully, he reaped
bountifully.

{87}

Note the Syrian's daily language: it is essentially Biblical.  He has
no _secular_ language.  The only real break between his scriptures and
the vocabulary of his daily life is that which exists between the
classical and the vernacular.  When you ask a Syrian about his business
he will not answer, "We are doing well at present," but "_Allah mûn
'aim_" (God is giving bounteously).  To one starting on a journey the
phrase is not "Take good care of yourself," but "Go, in the keeping and
protection of God."  By example and precept we were trained from
infancy in this manner of speech.  Coming into a house, the visitor
salutes by saying, "God grant you good morning," or "The peace of God
come upon you."  So it is written in the tenth chapter of Matthew, "And
as ye enter into the house, salute it.  And if the house be worthy, let
your peace come upon it; but if it be not worthy, let your peace return
unto you."

In saluting a day laborer at work we said, "_Allah, yaatik-el-afie_"
(God give you health {88} and strength).  In saluting reapers in the
field, or "gatherers of the increase" in the vineyards or olive groves,
we said just the words of Boaz, in the second chapter of the Book of
Ruth, when he "came from Bethlehem and said unto the reapers, The Lord
be with you.  And they answered him, The Lord bless thee."  Or another
Scriptural expression, now more extensively used on such occasions,
"The blessing of the Lord be upon you!"  It is to this custom that the
withering imprecation which is recorded in the one hundred and
twenty-ninth Psalm refers: "Let them all be confounded and turned back
that hate Zion: let them be as the grass upon the housetops which
withereth afore it groweth up: wherewith the mower filleth not his
hand, nor he that bindeth sheaves his bosom.  Neither do they which go
by say, The blessing of the Lord be upon you: we bless you in the name
of the Lord."

In asking a shepherd about his flock we said, "How are the blessed
ones?" or a parent about his children, "How are the preserved ones?"
{89} They are preserved of God through their "angels," of whom the
Master spoke when he said, "Take heed that ye despise not one of these
little ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels do always
behold the face of my Father."[5]  Speaking of a good man we said, "The
grace of God is poured upon his face."  So in the Book of Proverbs,[6]
"Blessings are upon the head of the just."

Akin to the foregoing are such expressions as these.  In trying to rise
from a sitting posture (the Syrians sit on the floor with their legs
folded under them), a person, using the right arm for leverage, says,
as he springs up, "Ya _Allah_" (O God [help]).  In inquiring about the
nature of an object, he says, "_Sho dinû_?" (what is its religion?) And
one of the queerest expressions, when translated into English, is that
employed to indicate that a kettleful of water, for example, has boiled
beyond the required degree: "This water has turned to be an infidel"
(_kaffer_).  It may be noticed here {90} that it is not the old
theology only which associates the infidel with intense heat.

So this religious language is the Oriental's daily speech.  I have
stated in my autobiography that the men my father employed in his
building operations were grouped according to their faith.  He had so
many Druses, so many Greek Orthodox, Maronites, and so forth.

The almost total abstinence from using "pious" language in ordinary
business and social intercourse in America may be considered
commendable in some ways, but I consider it a surrender of the soul to
the body, a subordination of the spirit of the things which are eternal
to the spirit of the things which are temporal.  In my judgment, the
superior culture of the West, instead of limiting the vocabulary of
religion to the one hour of formal worship on Sunday, and scrupulously
shunning it during the remainder of the week, should make its use, on a
much higher plane than the Orient has yet discovered, coextensive with
all the activities of life.



[1] Ps. cxxxix: 1-6.

[2] Gal. vi: 7.

[3] 2 Cor. ix: 6.

[4] Ps. xix: 9, 11.

[5] Matt. xviii: 10.

[6] x: 6.




{91}

CHAPTER II

IMPRECATIONS

Again, the Oriental's consideration of life as being essentially
religious makes him as pious in his imprecations and curses as he is in
his aspirational prayer.  Beyond all human intrigue, passion, and
force, the great avenger is God.  "Vengeance is mine, I will repay,
saith the Lord."[1]  "See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no
God with me: I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; neither is
there any that can deliver out of my hand."[2]

By priests and parents these precepts have been transmitted from
generation to generation in the Orient, from time immemorial.  We all
were instructed in them by our elders with scrupulous care.  Of course
as weak mortals we always tried to avenge ourselves, and the idea of
_thar_ (revenge) lies deep in the Oriental nature.  But to us our
vengeance was nothing {92} compared with what God did to our "ungodly"
enemies and oppressors.

The Oriental's impetuosity and effusiveness make his imprecatory
prayers, especially to the "unaccustomed ears" of Americans,
blood-curdling.  And I confess that on my last visit to Syria, my
countrymen's (and especially my countrywomen's) bursts of pious wrath
jarred heavily upon me.  In his oral bombardment of his enemy the
Oriental hurls such missiles as, "May God burn the bones of your
fathers"; "May God exterminate your seed from the earth"; "May God cut
off your supply of bread (_yakta rizkak_)"; "May you have nothing but
the ground for a bed and the sky for covering"; "May your children be
orphaned and your wife widowed"; and similar expressions.

Does not this sound exactly like the one hundred and ninth Psalm?
Speaking of his enemy, the writer of that psalm says, "Let his days be
few, and let another take his office.  Let his children be fatherless,
and his wife a widow.  Let his children be continually {93} vagabonds,
and beg; let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places.
Let there be none to extend mercy unto him; neither let there be any to
favor his fatherless children.  Let his posterity be cut off; and in
the generation following let their name be blotted out."

The sad fact is that the Oriental has always considered his personal
enemies to be the enemies of God also, and as such their end was
destruction.  Such sentiments mar the beauty of many of the Psalms.
The enemies of the Israelites were considered the enemies of the God of
Israel, and the enemies of a Syrian family are also the enemies of the
patron saint of that family.  In that most wonderful Scriptural
passage--the one hundred and thirty-ninth Psalm--the singer cries,
"Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God: depart from me, ye bloody
men.  For they speak against thee wickedly, and thine enemies take thy
name in vain.  Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? and am I not
grieved with those that rise against thee?  _I hate them with perfect
hatred: {94} I count them mine enemies._"  Yet this ardent hater of his
enemies most innocently turns to God and says in the next verse:
"Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me and know my thoughts: _and
see if there be any wicked way in me_, and lead me in the way
everlasting."

This mixture of piety and hatred, uttered so naïvely and in good faith,
is characteristically Syrian.  Such were the mutual wishes I so often
heard expressed in our neighborhood and clan fights and quarrels in
Syria.  When so praying, the persons would beat upon their breasts and
uncover their heads, as signs of the total surrender of their cause to
an avenging Omnipotence.  Of course the Syrians are not so cruel and
heartless as such imprecations, especially when cast in cold type,
would lead one to believe.  I am certain that if the little children of
his enemy should become fatherless, the imprecator himself would be
among the first to "favor" them.  If you will keep in mind the juvenile
temperament of the Oriental, already mentioned, and his habit of
turning to {95} God in all circumstances, as unreservedly as a child
turns to his father, your judgment of the son of Palestine will be
greatly tempered with mercy.

The one redeeming feature in these imprecatory petitions is that they
have always served the Oriental as a safety-valve.  Much of his wrath
is vented in this manner.  He is much more cruel in his words than in
his deeds.  As a rule the Orientals quarrel much, but fight little.  By
the time two antagonists have cursed and reviled each other so
profusely they cool off, and thus graver consequences are averted.  The
Anglo-Saxon has outgrown such habits.  In the first place the highly
complex social order in which he lives calls for much more effective
methods for the settling of disputes, and, in the second place, he has
no time to waste on mere words.  And just as the Anglo-Saxon smiles at
the wordy fights of the Oriental, the Oriental shudders at the
swiftness of the Anglo-Saxon in using his fists and his pistol.  Both
are needy of the grace of God.



[1] Rom. xii: 19.

[2] Deut. xxxii: 39.




{96}

CHAPTER III

LOVE OF ENEMIES

The preceding chapter makes it very clear why Jesus opened the more
profound depths of the spiritual life to his much-divided and almost
hopelessly clannish countrymen, by commanding them to love their
enemies.  He who taught "as one having authority, and not as the
scribes," knew the possibilities and powers of divine love as no man
did.  It is in such immortal precepts that we perceive his superiority
to his time and people and the divinity of his character.  His
knowledge of the Father was so intimate and his repose in the Father's
love so perfect that he could justly say, "I and my father are one."

"Ye have heard," he said to his followers, "that it hath been said,
Thou shalt love thy neighbor [in the original, _quarib_--kinsman] and
hate thine enemy: but I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them
that curse you, do {97} good to them that hate you, and pray for them
which despitefully use you and persecute you; that ye may be the
children of your father which is in heaven."[1]

Here we have the very heart and soul of the Gospel, and the dynamic
power of Jesus' ministry of reconciliation.  Yet to many devout
Christians, as well as to unfriendly critics of the New Testament, the
command, "Love your enemies," offers a serious perplexity.  An
"independent" preacher in a large Western city, after reading this
portion of the Sermon on the Mount to his congregation, stated that
Jesus' great discourse should be called, "The Sarcasm on the Mount."
Is not love of enemies beyond the power of human nature?

This question is pertinent.  And it is an obvious fact that we cannot
love by command; we cannot love to order.  This mysterious flow of soul
which we call love is not of our own making; therefore we cannot _will_
to love.  Such a discussion, however, falls outside the scope {98} of
this publication.  What I wish to offer here is a linguistic
explanation which I believe will throw some light on this great
commandment.

The word "love" has been more highly specialized in the West than in
the East.  In its proper English use it means only that ardent, amorous
feeling which cannot be created by will and design.  In the West the
word "love" has been relieved of the function of expressing the less
ardent desires such as the terms "to like," "to have good-will toward,"
and "to be well-disposed toward" imply.

Not so in the East.  The word "like," meaning "to be favorably inclined
toward," is not found either in the Bible or in the Arabic tongue.  In
the English version it is used in two places, but the translation is
incorrect.  In the twenty-fifth chapter of Deuteronomy the seventh
verse, "If the man like not to take his brother's wife," should be
rendered, "If the man _consent_ not"; and in the fourth chapter of
Amos, the fifth verse, "For this liketh you, O ye children of Israel,"
is in the original, "For this ye {99} _loved_, O ye children of
Israel."  In any standard concordance of the Bible, the Hebrew verb
_Aheb_ (to love) precedes these quotations.

So to us Orientals the only word which can express any cordial
inclination of approval is "love."  One loves his wife and children,
and loves grapes and figs and meat, if he likes these things.  An
employer says to an employee, "If you _love_ to work for me according
to this agreement, you can."  It is nothing uncommon for one to say to
a casual acquaintance whom he likes, "I must say, _Sahib_ [friend],
that I love you!"  I know of no equivalent in the Arabic for the
phrase, "I am interested in you."  "Love" and "hate" are the usual
terms by which to express approval and disapproval, as well as real
love and hatred.

The Scriptural passages illustrative of this thought are not a few.  In
the ninth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, the thirteenth verse,
it is said, "As it is written, Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I
hated."  God does not "hate."  The two terms here, "loved" and {100}
"hated," mean "approved" and "disapproved."  It is as a father approves
of the conduct of one of his children and disapproves that of another
of them.  Another example of this use of the word "hate" is found in
the twenty-first chapter of Deuteronomy, the fifteenth verse: "If a man
have two wives, one beloved, and another hated, and they have born him
children, both the beloved and the hated; and if the firstborn son be
hers that was hated: then it shall be, when he maketh his sons to
inherit that which he hath, that he may not make the son of the beloved
firstborn before the son of the hated, which is indeed the first-born:
but he shall acknowledge the son of the hated for the firstborn, by
giving him a double portion of all that he hath."  Here it is safe to
infer that the writer meant to distinguish between the wife who was a
"favorite" and the one who was not.  There could be no valid reason why
a husband should live with a wife whom he really hated when he could
very easily divorce her, according to the Jewish {101} law, and marry
another.  In such a case the husband was simply partial in his love.
The hatred which is felt toward an enemy and a destroyer does not apply
here.

Another Scriptural passage which illustrates the free use of the word
"love" is the story of the rich man in the tenth chapter of St. Mark's
Gospel.  Beginning with the seventeenth verse, the passage reads: "And
when he was gone forth into the way, there came one running, and
kneeling to him, and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may
inherit eternal life?  And Jesus said unto him, Why callest thou me
good? there is none good but one, that is, God.  Thou knowest the
commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not
bear false witness, Defraud not, Honor thy father and mother.  And he
answered and said unto him, Master, all these have I observed from my
youth.  _Then Jesus, beholding him, loved him_, and said unto him, One
thing thou lackest"; and so forth.  Apparently the brief conversation
with the young man {102} showed Jesus that his questioner was both
polite and intelligent, so the Master liked him.  Stating the case in
Western phraseology it may be said that the young Hebrew seeker was an
agreeable, or likable man.

Quite different is the import of the word "love" in such of the
Master's sayings as are found in the fifteenth chapter of St. John's
Gospel: "As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye
in my love.  This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I
have loved you."  Here the term "love" is used in its truest and purest
sense.

From all this it may be seen that when the Great Oriental Teacher said
to his countrymen, who considered all other clans than their own as
their enemies, "Love your enemies," he did not mean that they should be
enamored of them, but that they should have good will toward them.  We
cannot love by will and design, but we certainly can will to be well
disposed even toward those who, we believe, have ill will toward us.
He who really thinks this {103} an impossibility gives evidence not of
superior "critical knowledge," but of being still in the lower stages
of human evolution.

But I have something more to say on this great subject.  Whether used
in a general or a highly specialized sense the word "Love" speaks
indeed of the "greatest thing in the world."

When the Master of the Art of Living said, "Love your enemies," he
urged upon the minds of men the divinest law of human progress.  Yet
compliance with this demand seems, to the majority of men, to be beyond
the reach of humanity.  When you are admonished to love your enemies,
you will be likely to think of the meanest, most disagreeable human
being you know and wonder as to how you are going to love _such_ a
person.  But the Master's law far transcends this narrow conception of
love.  Its deeper meaning, when understood, renders such a conception
shallow and childish.  It is to be found, not in the freakish moods of
the sensibility, but in the realm of permanent ideals.

{104}

There are in the world two forces at work, love and hatred.  Hatred
destroys, love builds; hatred injures, love heals; hatred embitters
life, love sweetens it; hatred is godlessness, love is godliness.  The
supreme question, therefore, is, not as to whether there are unlovable
persons in the world or not, but rather, which one of these two forces
would you have to rule your own life and the life of humanity at large,
love or hatred?  Which nutrition would you give your own soul and the
souls of those who are near and dear to you, that of hatred, or that of
love?  Can it be your aim in life to aid that power which injures,
destroys, embitters life and estranges from God, or the power which
heals, builds up, sweetens life and makes one with God?

You say you have been injured through the malicious designs of others,
you are pained by the injury, and a sense of hatred impels you to
avenge yourself.  But what formed such designs against you, love or
hatred?  Hatred!  You enjoy, idealize, adore the love of those who
{105} love you.  The designs of love give you joyous satisfaction, and
not pain.  You know now by actual personal experience that the fruits
of hatred are bitter, and the fruits of love are sweet.  Is it your
duty, therefore, to give your life over to the power of hatred, and
thus increase its dominion among men and multiply its bitter, poisonous
fruit in the world, or to consecrate your life to the power of love,
which you idealize and adore, and whose fruits are joy and peace?

This, therefore, is the Master's law of love: Give your life and
service to that power which merits your holiest regard and engages your
purest affections, regardless of the "evil and the undeserving."
Recognize no enemies, and you shall have none.  The only power which
can defeat the designs of hatred is love.  The foams of hatred and
fumes of vengeance are destined to pass away with all their possessors;
only love is permanent and sovereign good.

The man of hatred is destined, sooner or {106} later, to lose his
nobler qualities, his own self-respect and the respect of others, and
to occupy the smallest and most undesirable social sphere.  Therefore
love, and do not hate!  Exercise good will toward those even who have
injured you.

You may not be able to reach and redeem by your generous thoughts and
designs such persons as have injured you, but a hundred others may
learn from you the law of redeeming love.  Let your children grow to
know you as a man of love.  Let your employees and fellow citizens
think of you as a man of peace and good will, a builder and not a
destroyer.  Let your fireside be ever cheered by the music of love.
When the shadows of night fall and you come to enter into the unknown
land of sleep, let loving thoughts be your companions; let them course
into the deepest recesses of your nature and leaven your entire being.
Be a man of love!  Love even your blind and misguided enemies!



[1] Matt. v: 43-45.




{107}

CHAPTER IV

"THE UNVERACIOUS ORIENTAL"

The Oriental's juvenile temperament and his partial disregard for
concrete facts have led his Anglo-Saxon cousin to consider him as
essentially unveracious.  "You cannot believe what an Oriental says."
"The Orientals are the children of the 'Father of Lies.'"  "Whatever an
Oriental says, the opposite is likely to be the truth"; and so forth.

I do not wish in the least to undertake to excuse or even condone the
Oriental's unveracity, any more than to approve of the ethics of
American politicians during a political campaign.  I have no doubt that
the Oriental suffers more from the universal affliction of
untruthfulness than does the Anglo-Saxon, and that he sorely needs to
restrict his fancy, and to train his intellect to have more respect for
facts.  Nevertheless, I feel compelled to say that a {108} clear
understanding of some of the Oriental's modes of thought will quash
many of the indictments against his veracity.  His ways will remain
different from the ways of the Anglo-Saxon, and perhaps not wholly
agreeable to the latter; but the son of the East--the dreamer and
writer of scriptures--will be credited with more honesty of purpose.

It is unpleasant to an Anglo-Saxon to note how many things an Oriental
says, but does not mean.  And it is distressing to an Oriental to note
how many things the Anglo-Saxon means, but does not say.  To an
unreconstructed Syrian the brevity, yea, even curtness, of an
Englishman or an American, seems to sap life of its pleasures and to
place a disproportionate value on time.  For the Oriental, the primary
value of time must not be computed in terms of business and money, but
in terms of sociability and good fellowship.  Poetry, and not prosaic
accuracy, must be the dominant feature of speech.

There is much more of intellectual inaccuracy than of moral delinquency
in the Easterner's {109} speech.  His misstatements are more often the
result of indifference than the deliberate purpose to deceive.  One of
his besetting sins is his _ma besay-il_--it does not matter.  He sees
no essential difference between nine o'clock and half after nine, or
whether a conversation took plate on the housetop or in the house.  The
main thing is to know the substance of what happened, with as many of
the supporting details as may be conveniently remembered.  A case may
be overstated or understated, not necessarily for the purpose of
deceiving, but to impress the hearer with the significance or the
insignificance of it.  If a sleeper who had been expected to rise at
sunrise should oversleep and need to be awakened, say half an hour or
an hour later than the appointed time, he is then aroused with the
call, "Arise, it is noon already--_qûm sar edh-hir_."  Of a strong and
brave man it is said, "He can split the earth--_yekkid elaridh_."  The
Syrians suffer from no misunderstanding in such cases.  They _discern_
one another's meaning.

{110}

So also many Scriptural passages need to be _discerned_.  The purpose
of the Oriental speaker or writer must be sought often beyond the
letter of his statement, which he uses with great freedom.

In the first chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, the thirty-second and
thirty-third verses, it is said, "And at even, when the sun did set,
they brought unto him all that were diseased, and them that were
possessed of devils.  And _all the city_ was gathered together at the
door."  The swiftness with which the poor people in Eastern communities
bring their sick to a healer, be he a prophet or only a physician, is
proverbial.  Because of the scarcity of physicians, as well as of money
with which to pay for medical attendance, when a healer is summoned to
a home many afflicted persons come or are brought to him.  The peoples
of the East have always believed also in the healing of diseases by
religious means.  When a prophet arises the first thing expected of him
is that he should heal the sick.  Both the priest and the physician
{111} are appealed to in time of trouble.  To those who followed and
believed in him Jesus was the healer of both the soul and the body.
But note the account of the incident before us.  The place was the city
of Capernaum, and we are told that "_all the city_ was gathered
together at the door" of the house where Jesus was bestowing the
loving, healing touch upon the sick.  Was the _whole city_ at the door?
Were _all_ the sick in that large city brought into that house for
Jesus to heal them?  Here we are confronted by a physical
impossibility.  An Anglo-Saxon chronicler would have said, "Quite a
number gathered at the door," which in all probability would have been
a _correct_ report.

But to the Oriental writer the object of the report was not _to
determine the number_ of those who stood outside, nor to insist that
each and every sick person in Capernaum was brought into the humble
home of Simon and Andrew.  It was rather to glorify the Great Teacher
and his divine work of mercy, and not to give a photographic report of
the attendant {112} circumstances.  The saying, "Quite a number
gathered at the door," may be correct, but to an Oriental it is
absolutely colorless and tasteless, an inexcusably parsimonious use of
the imagination.

Take another Scriptural passage.  In the seventeenth chapter of St.
Matthew's Gospel, the first verse, we read: "And after six days Jesus
taketh Peter, James, and John his brother, and bringeth them up into an
high mountain apart, and was transfigured before them; and his face did
shine as the sun."  "After six days" from what time?  In the preceding
chapter a general reference to time is made in the thirteenth verse,
where it is said: "When Jesus came into the coasts of Cæsarea Philippi,
he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man
am?"  But here no definite date is given.  Chapter sixteenth ends with
those great words, "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and
whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.  For what is a
man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and {113} lose his own
soul?"  The two last verses of this chapter promise the speedy coming
of the Kingdom.

"After six days" from what time?  Well, what does it matter from what
time?  Do you not see that the object of the record is to give a
glimpse of what happened on that "high mountain" where the light and
glory of the unseen world were reflected in the face of the Christ?

The intelligent lay reader of the New Testament cannot fail to notice,
especially in the Gospels, gaps and abrupt beginnings such as "In those
days"; "Then came the disciples to Jesus"; "And it came to pass"; and
many similar expressions which seem to point nowhere.  The record seems
to be rather incoherent.  Yes, such difficulties, which are due largely
to the Oriental's indifference to little details, exist in the Bible,
but they are very unimportant.  The central purpose of these books is
to enable the reader to perceive the secret of a holy personality,
whose mission was, is, and forever shall be, to emancipate the soul of
man from the {114} bondage of a world of fear, weakness, sin, and
doubt, and lead it onward and upward to the realms of faith, hope, and
love.  This purpose the Scriptures abundantly subserve.




{115}

CHAPTER V

IMPRESSIONS _vs._ LITERAL ACCURACY

A Syrian's chief purpose in a conversation is to convey an impression
by whatever suitable means, and not to deliver his message in
scientifically accurate terms.  He expects to be judged not by what he
_says_, but by what he _means_.  He does not expect his hearer to
listen to him with the quizzical courtesy of a "cool-headed Yankee,"
and to interrupt the flow of conversation by saying, with the least
possible show of emotion, "Do I understand you to say," etc.  No; he
piles up his metaphors and superlatives, reinforced by a theatrical
display of gestures and facial expressions, in order to make the hearer
_feel_ his meaning.

The Oriental's speech is always "illustrated."  He speaks as it were in
pictures.  With him the spoken language goes hand in hand with the more
ancient gesture language.  His profuse gesticulation is that phase of
his life which first {116} challenges the attention of Occidental
travelers in the East.  He points to almost everything he mentions in
his speech, and would portray every feeling and emotion by means of
some bodily movement.  No sooner does he mention his eye than his index
finger points to or even touches that organ.  "Do you understand me?"
is said to an auditor with the speaker's finger on his own temple.  In
rebuking one who makes unreasonable demands upon him, a Syrian would be
likely to stoop down and say, "Don't you want to ride on my back?"

One of the most striking examples of this manner of speech in the Bible
is found in the twenty-first chapter of the Book of Acts.  Beginning
with the tenth verse, the writer says: "And as we tarried there [at
Cæsarea] many days, there came down from Judea a certain prophet, named
Agabus.  And when he was come unto us, he took Paul's girdle, and bound
his own hands and feet, and said, Thus saith the Holy Ghost, So shall
the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man that owneth this girdle, and shall
{117} deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles."  Now an Occidental
teacher would not have gone into all that trouble.  He would have said
to the great apostle, "Now you understand I don't mean to interfere
with your business, but if I were you I would n't go down to Jerusalem.
Those Jews there are not pleased with what you are doing, and would be
likely to make things unpleasant for you."  But in all probability such
a polite hint would not have made Paul's companions weep, nor caused
him to say, "What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? for I am
ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name
of the Lord Jesus."

It is also because the Syrian loves to speak in pictures, and to
subordinate literal accuracy to the total impression of an utterance,
that he makes such extensive use of figurative language.  Instead of
saying to the Pharisees, "Your pretensions to virtue and good birth far
exceed your actual practice of virtue," John the Baptist cried: "O
generation of vipers, who hath warned {118} you to flee from the wrath
to come?  Bring forth, therefore, fruits meet for repentance: and think
not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say
unto you that God is able _of these stones_ to raise up children unto
Abraham."

Just as the Oriental loves to flavor his food strongly and to dress in
bright colors, so is he fond of metaphor, exaggeration, and
positiveness in speech.  To him mild accuracy is weakness.  A host of
illustrations of this thought rise in my mind as I recall my early
experiences as a Syrian youth.  I remember how those jovial men who
came to our house to "sit"--that is, to make a call of indefinite
duration--would make their wild assertions and back them up by vows
which they never intended to keep.  The one would say, "What I say to
you is the truth, and if it is not, I will cut off my right
arm"--grasping it--"at the shoulder."  "I promise you this,"--whatever
the promise might be,--"and if I fail in fulfilling my promise I will
pluck out my right eye."

{119}

To such speech we always listened admiringly and respectfully.  But we
never had the remotest idea that in any circumstances the speaker would
carry out his resolution, or that his hearers had a right to demand it
from him.  He simply was in earnest; or as an American would say, "He
meant that he was right."

Such an Oriental mode of thought furnishes us with the background for
Jesus' saying, "If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it
from thee.  If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from
thee."[1]

To many Western Christians, especially in the light of the Protestant
doctrine of the infallibility of the letter of the Bible, these sayings
of Christ present insurmountable difficulties.  To such the question,
"How can I be a true disciple of Christ, if I do not obey what he
commands?" makes these misunderstood sayings of Christ great stumbling
blocks.  Some time ago a lady wrote me a letter saying that at a
prayer-meeting which she attended, the minister, after {120} reading
the fifth chapter of Matthew, which contains these commands, said, "If
we are true Christians we must not shrink from obeying these explicit
commands of our Lord."

My informant stated also that on hearing that, she asked the preacher,
"Suppose the tongue should offend, and we should cut it off; should we
be better Christians than if we did endeavor to atone for the offense
in some other way?"  The preacher, after a moment of perplexed silence,
said, "If there is no one here who can answer this question, we will
sing a hymn."

The best commentary on these sayings of Christ is given by Paul in the
sixth chapter of his Epistle to the Romans.  This is precisely what the
Master meant: "Neither yield ye your members as instruments of
unrighteousness unto sin; but yield yourselves unto God, as those that
are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of
righteousness unto God."  Cutting or mutilation of the body has nothing
to do with either passage, nor indeed with the Christian life.  The
amputation of an {121} arm that steals is no sure guaranty of the
removal of the desire to steal; nor would the plucking out of a lustful
eye do away with the lust which uses the eye for an instrument.

With this should be classed also the following commands: "Whosoever
shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also."  "If
any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have
thy cloak also; and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with
him twain."[2]

The command to give the coat and the cloak to a disputant, rather than
to go to law with him, will seem much more perplexing when it is
understood that these words mean the "under garment" and the "upper
garment."  The Orientals are not in the habit of wearing a coat and a
cloak or overcoat.  In the Arabic version we have the _thaub_ ("th" as
in "throw") and the _rada'_.  The _thaub_ is the main article of
clothing--the ample gown worn over a shirt next to the body.  The
_rada'_ is the cloak worn {122} on occasions over the _thaub_.  The
Scriptural command literally is, "To one who would quarrel with thee
and would take thy _thaub_, give him the _rada'_ also."  It may be
clearly seen here that literal compliance with this admonition would
leave the non-resistant person, so far as clothes are concerned, in a
pitiable condition.

The concluding portion of this paragraph in the fifth chapter of St.
Matthew's Gospel--the forty-second verse--presents another difficulty.
It says, "Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow
of thee turn not thou away."  Of all those whom I have heard speak
disparagingly of this passage I particularly recall a lawyer, whom I
knew in a Western State, whose dislike for these words of Christ
amounted almost to a mental affliction.  It seems to me that on every
single occasion when he and I discussed the Scriptures together, or
spoke of Christianity, I found him armed with this passage as his most
effective weapon against the innocent Nazarene.  "What was Jesus
thinking of," he would say, "when he {123} uttered these words?  What
would become of our business interests and financial institutions if we
gave to every one that asked of us, and lent money without good
security to every Tom, Dick, and Harry?"

The thought involved in this text suffers from the unconditional manner
in which it is presented, and which gives it its Oriental flavor.
Seeing that he was addressing those who knew what he meant, the writer
did not deem it necessary to state exactly the reason why this command
was given.  It seems, however, that when Jesus spoke those words he had
in mind the following passage: "And if thy brother be waxed poor, and
his hand fail with thee; then thou shalt uphold him: as a stranger and
a sojourner shall he live with thee.  Take thou no interest of him or
increase, but fear thy God: that thy brother may live with thee.  _Thou
shalt not give him thy money upon interest_, nor give him thy victuals
for increase."[3]  According to this legal stipulation, an Israelite
could not {124} lawfully charge a fellow Israelite interest on a loan.
Therefore, "as a matter of business," the money-lenders preferred to
lend their money to the Gentiles, from whom they were permitted to take
interest, and to "turn away" from borrowers of their own race.  And as
the teachers of Israel of his day often assailed Jesus for his
non-observance of the law, he in turn never failed to remind them of
the fact that their own practices did greater violence to the law than
his own liberal interpretation of it in the interest of man.

From all that I know of Oriental modes of thought and life I cannot
conceive that Jesus meant by all these sayings to give brute force the
right of way in human life.  He himself drove the traders out of the
temple by physical force.  These precepts were not meant to prohibit
the use of force in self-defense and for the protection of property,
but were given as an antidote to that relentless law of revenge which
required "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth."  The Master does
not preach a gospel {125} of helplessness, but enjoins a manly attitude
toward peace and concord, in place of a constantly active desire for
vengeance and strife.

Again let me say that an Oriental expects to be judged chiefly by what
he means and not by what he says.  As a rule, the Oriental is not
altogether unaware of the fact that, as regards the letter, his
statements are often sadly lacking in correctness.  But I venture to
say that when a person who is conversing with me knows that I know that
what he is saying is not exactly true I may not like his manner of
speech, yet I cannot justly call him a liar.

A neighbor of mine in a Mount Lebanon village makes a trip to Damascus
and comes to my house of an evening to tell me all about it.  He would
not be a Syrian if he did not give wings to his fancy and present me
with an idealistic painting of his adventure, instead of handing me a
photograph.  I listen and laugh and wonder.  I know his statements are
not wholly correct, and he knows exactly how I feel about it.  We both
are aware, however, that {126} the proceedings of the evening are not
those of a business transaction, but of an entertainment.  My friend
does not maliciously misrepresent the facts; he simply loves to speak
in poetic terms and is somewhat inhospitable to cross-examination.
Certainly we would not buy and sell sheep and oxen and fields and
vineyards after that fashion, but we like to be so entertained.  Beyond
the wide margin of social hospitality and the latitude of intellectual
tolerance, I am aware of the fact that in all the flourish of metaphor
and simile, what my visitor really meant to say was either that his
trip to Damascus was pleasant or that it was hazardous, and that there
were many interesting things to see in that portion of the world; all
of which was indubitably true.

While on a visit to Syria, after having spent several years in this
country, where I had lived almost exclusively with Americans, I was
very strongly impressed by the decidedly sharp contrast between the
Syrian and the American modes of thought.  The years had worked many
{127} changes in me, and I had become addicted to the more compact
phraseology of the American social code.

In welcoming me to his house, an old friend of mine spoke with
impressive cheerfulness as follows: "You have extremely honored me by
coming into my abode [_menzel_], I am not worthy of it.  This house is
yours; you can burn it if you wish.  My children also are at your
disposal; I would sacrifice them all for your pleasure.  What a blessed
day this is, now that the light of your countenance has shone upon us";
and so forth, and so on.

I understood my friend fully and most agreeably, although it was not
easy for me to translate his words to my American wife without causing
her to be greatly alarmed at the possibility that the house would be
set on fire and the children slain for our pleasure.  What my friend
really meant in his effusive welcome was no more or less than what a
gracious American host means when he says, "I am delighted to see you;
please make yourself at home."

{128}

Had the creed-makers of Christendom approached the Bible by way of
Oriental psychology, had they viewed the Scriptures against the
background of Syrian life, they would not have dealt with Holy Writ as
a jurist deals with legislative enactments.  Again, had the unfriendly
critics of the Bible real acquaintance with the land of its birth, they
would not have been so sure that the Bible was "a mass of
impossibilities."  The sad fact is that the Bible has suffered violence
from literalists among its friends, as from its enemies.

For example, in their failure to heal a sick lad[4] the disciples came
to Jesus and asked him why they could not do the beneficent deed.
According to the Revised and the Arabic versions, the Master answered,
"Because of your unbelief; for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith
as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove
hence to yonder place, and it shall remove."  Colonel Robert Ingersoll
never tired of challenging the Christians {129} of America to put this
scripture to a successful test, and thus _convince_ him that the Bible
is inspired.  In the face of such a challenge the "believer" is likely
to feel compelled to admit that the church does not have the required
amount of faith, else it could remove mountains.

To one well acquainted with the Oriental manner of speech this saying
was not meant to fix a rule of conduct, but to idealize faith.  In
order to do this in real Syrian fashion, Jesus spoke of an
infinitesimal amount of faith as being capable of moving the biggest
object on earth.  His disciples must have understood him clearly,
because we have no record that they ever tried to remove mountains by
faith and prayer.  It would be most astounding, indeed, if Christ
really thought that those disciples, who forsook all and followed him,
had not as much faith as a grain of mustard seed, and yet said to them,
"Ye are the light of the world.  Ye are the salt of the earth."

Of a similar character is the Master's saying, {130} "It is easier for
a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter
into the kingdom of God,"[5] which has quickened the exegetical genius
of commentators to mighty efforts in "expounding the Scriptures."
Judging by the vast number of persons in this country who have asked my
opinion, as a Syrian, concerning its correctness, and the fact that I
have myself seen it in print, the following interpretation of this
passage must have been much in vogue.

The walled cities and feudal castles of Palestine, the explanation
runs, have large gates.  Because of their great size, such gates are
opened only on special occasions to admit chariots and caravans.
Therefore, in order to give pedestrians thoroughfare, a smaller opening
about the size of an ordinary door is made in the center of the great
gate, near to the ground.  Now this smaller door through which a camel
cannot pass is the eye of the needle mentioned in the Gospel.

{131}

I once heard a Sunday-School superintendent explain this passage to his
scholars by saying that a camel could pass through this eye of a
needle--meaning the door--if he was not loaded.  Therefore, and by
analogy, if we cast off our load of sin outside, we can easily enter
into the kingdom of heaven.

Were the camel and the gate left out, this statement would be an
excellent fatherly admonition.  There is perhaps no gate in the
celestial city large enough to admit a man with a load of sin strapped
to his soul.  However, the chief trouble with these explanations of the
"eye-of-the-needle" passage is that they are wholly untrue.

This saying is current in the East, and in all probability it was a
common saying there long before the advent of Christ.  But I never knew
that small door in a city or a castle gate to be called the needle's
eye; nor indeed the large gate to be called the needle.  The name of
that door, in the common speech of the country, is the "plum," and I am
certain the {132} Scriptural passage makes no reference to it whatever.

The Koran makes use of this expression in one of its purest classical
Arabic passages.  The term employed here--_sûm-el-khiat_--can mean only
the sewing instrument, and nothing else.

Nothing can show more clearly the genuine Oriental character of this
New Testament passage and that of the Teacher who uttered it, than the
intense positiveness of its thought and the unrestrained flight of its
imagery.  I can just hear the Master say it.  Jesus' purpose was to
state that it was extremely difficult "for them that trust in riches to
enter into the Kingdom of God."[6]  To this end he chose the biggest
animal and the smallest opening known to his people and compared the
impossibility of a camel passing through the eye of a needle with that
of a man weighted down with earthly things becoming one with God.

The Master's rebuke of the scribes and pharisees, {133} "Ye blind
guides, which strain at a gnat and swallow a camel,"[7] expresses a
similar thought in a different form and connection.  There is no need
here to puzzle over the anatomical problem as to whether the throat of
a Pharisee was capacious enough to gulp a camel down.  The strong and
agreeable Oriental flavor of this saying comes from the sharp contrast
between the size of the gnat and that of the camel.  So the Master
employed it in order to show the glaring contradictions in the precepts
and practices of the priests of his day, who tithed mint and rue, but
"passed over judgment and the love of God."

One of the most interesting examples of Oriental speech is found in the
eighteenth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, the twenty-first verse:
"Then came Peter and said to him, Lord how oft shall my brother sin
against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?  Jesus saith unto him,
I say not unto thee, until seven times; but, until seventy times
seven."  Did Jesus {134} really mean that an offender should be
forgiven four hundred and ninety times?  Would it be to the interest of
the offender himself and to society at large to forgive an embezzler, a
slanderer or a prevaricator four hundred and ninety times?  Is not
punishment which is guided by reason and sympathy, and whose end is
corrective, really a great aid in character-building?  Let us try to
interpret this passage with reference to certain scenes in Jesus' own
life.  In the sixteenth chapter of Matthew, the twenty-first verse, we
read: "From that time forth began Jesus to show unto his disciples, how
that he must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders
and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the
third day.  Then Peter took him, and began to rebuke him, saying, Lord:
this shall not be unto thee.  But he turned, and said unto Peter, _Get
thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence to me_: for thou savourest
not the things that be of God, but those that be of men."

In the second chapter of St. John's Gospel, {135} the thirteenth verse,
we are told: "And the Jews' passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to
Jerusalem, and found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and
doves, and the changers of money sitting: _and when he had made a
scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple_, and the
sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew
the tables; and said unto them that sold doves, Take these things
hence; make not my Father's house an house of merchandise."

The forgiving "seventy times seven" did not apply, as it seems, in
these cases.  In the very chapter from which this saying comes,[8] the
Master gives us two superb examples of certain and somewhat swift
retribution for offenses.  In the fifteenth verse, he says: "Moreover,
if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go tell him his fault
between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy
brother.  But if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two
more, that in the mouth {136} of two or three witnesses every word may
be established.  And if he neglect to hear them, tell it unto the
church; but if he neglect to hear the church, _let him be unto thee as
an heathen man and a publican_."

The parable of the "certain king" and the "wicked servant" follows
immediately the "seventy times seven" passage.  "Therefore is the
kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account
of his servants.  And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto
him, which owed him ten thousand talents.  But forasmuch as he had not
to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children,
and all that he had, and payment be made.  The servant therefore fell
down and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I
will pay thee all.  Then the Lord of that servant was moved with
compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt.  But the same
servant went out, and found one of his fellowservants, which owed him
an hundred pence: and he laid hands on him, {137} and took him by the
throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest.  And his fellowservant fell
down at his feet, and besought him, saying, Have patience with me, and
I will pay thee all.  And he would not: but went and cast him into
prison, till he should pay the debt.  So when his fellowservants saw
what was done, they were very sorry, and came and told unto their lord
all that was done.  Then his lord, after that he had called him, said
unto him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because
thou desiredst me: shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy
fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?  _And his lord was wroth,
and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was
due unto him_.  So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you,
if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their
trespasses."

Now as a matter of fact the lord of the wicked servant did not forgive
him seventy times seven, but "delivered him to the tormentors" for his
first offense.  Will the heavenly Father do {138} _likewise_?  Do we
not have irreconcilable contradictions in these Scriptural passages?

No doubt there are difficulties here.  But once the
"seventy-times-seven" passage is clearly understood, the difficulties
will, I believe, disappear.  In harmony with his legalistic
preconception, Peter chose the full and sacred number "seven" as a very
liberal measure of forgiveness.  Apparently Jesus' purpose was to make
forgiveness a matter of disposition, sympathy, and discretion, rather
than of arithmetic.  To this end he made use of an Oriental saying
which meant _indefiniteness_, rather than a fixed rule.  This saying
occurs in one of the most ancient Old Testament narratives, and, most
fittingly, in a bit of poetry:[9]

  "And Lamech said unto his wives:
  Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;
  Ye wives of Lamech, hearken unto my speech:
  For I have slain a man for wounding me,
  And a young man for bruising me:
  If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold
  Truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold."

{139}

In both Testaments the meaning of the saying is the
same--indefiniteness.  It is one of that host of Bible passages and
current Oriental sayings which must be judged by what they _mean_, and
not by what they _say_.  The writer of the eighteenth chapter of
Matthew grouped those seemingly contradictory passages together,
because they all dealt with forgiveness.  That they must have been
spoken under various circumstances is very obvious.  The object of the
admonition concerning the trespassing brother (verses 15-17) is to
encourage Christians to "reason together" in a fraternal spirit about
the differences which may arise between them, and, _if at all
possible_, to win the offending member back to the fold.  And the
object of the parable of the "wicked servant" is to contrast the spirit
of kindness with that of cruelty.



[1] Matt. v: 29-30.

[2] Matt. v: 39-41.

[3] Lev. xxv: 35; Revised Version.

[4] Matt. xvii: 19.

[5] Matt. xix: 24.

[6] Mark x: 24.

[7] Matt. xxiii: 24.

[8] Matt. xviii.

[9] Gen. iv: 23; Revised Version.




{140}

CHAPTER VI

SPEAKING IN PARABLES

Teaching and conversing in parables and proverbs is a distinctly
Oriental characteristic.  A parable is a word picture whose purpose is
not to construct a definition or to establish a doctrine, but to convey
an impression.  However, the Oriental makes no distinction between a
proverb and a parable.  In both the Hebrew and the Arabic, the word
_mathel_ signifies either a short wise saying, such as may be found in
the Book of Proverbs, or a longer utterance, such as a New Testament
parable.  In the Arabic Bible, the wise sayings of the Book of Proverbs
are called _amthal_, and the parabolic discourses of Jesus are also
called _amthal_.  This term is the plural of _mathel_ (parable or
proverb).  This designation includes also any wise poetical saying, or
any human state of fortune or adversity.  Thus a very generous man
becomes a _mathel bilkaram_ (a parable of generosity); and a man {141}
of unsavory reputation becomes a _mathel beinennass_ (a saying or a
by-word among the people).  In the forty-fourth Psalm, the fourteenth
verse, the poet cries: "Thou makest us a by-word among the nations, a
shaking of the head among the people."  A fine illustration of the
_mathel_ as a poetical saying, although not strictly allegorical, is
the opening passage of the twenty-ninth chapter of the Book of Job,
where it is said:--

  "And Job again took up his parable and said,
  Oh that I were as in the months of old,
  As in the days when God watched over me;
  When his lamp shined upon my head,
  And by his light I walked through darkness;
  As I was in the ripeness of my days,
  When the friendship of God was upon my tent;
  When the Almighty was yet with me,
  And my children were about me;
  When my steps were washed with butter,
  And the rock poured me out rivers of oil!"[1]


Where in human literature can we find a passage to surpass in beauty
and tenderness this introspective utterance?

{142}

Parabolic speech is dear to the Oriental heart.  It is poetical,
mystical, sociable.  In showing the reason why Jesus taught in
parables, Biblical writers speak of the indirect method, the picture
language, the concealing of the truth from those "who had not the
understanding," and so forth.  But those writers fail to mention a most
important reason, namely, the _sociable_ nature of such a method of
teaching, which is so dear to the Syrian heart.  In view of the small
value the Orientals place upon time, the story-teller, the speaker in
parables, is to them the most charming conversationalist.  Why be so
prosy, brief, and abstract?  The spectacular charm and intense
concreteness of the parable of the Prodigal Son is infinitely more
agreeable to the Oriental mind than the general precept that God will
forgive his truly penitent children.  How romantic and how enchanting
to me are the memories of those _sehrat_ (evening gatherings) at my
father's house!  How simple and how human was the homely wisdom of the
stories and the parables which were spoken on {143} those occasions.
The elderly men of the clan loved to speak of what "was said in the
ancient days" (_qadeem ezzeman_).  "_Qal el-wathel_" (said the parable)
prefaced almost every utterance.  And as the speaker proceeded to
relate a parable and to reinforce the ancient saying by what his own
poetic fancy could create at the time of kindred material, we listened
admiringly, and looked forward with ecstatic expectation to the _maana_
(meaning, or moral).  Oral traditions, the Scriptures, Mohammedan
literature, and other rich sources are drawn upon, both for instruction
in wisdom and for entertainment.

In picturing the condition of one who has been demoralized beyond
redemption, the entertaining speaker proceeds in this fashion: "Once
upon a time a certain man fell from the housetop and was badly injured.
The neighbors came and carried him into the house and placed him in
bed.  Then one of his friends approached near to the injured man and
said to him, 'Asaad, my beloved friend, how is your condition [_kief
halak_]?'  The much-pained man {144} opened his mouth and said, 'My two
arms are broken; my back and one of my legs are broken; one of my eyes
is put out; I am badly wounded in the breast, and feel that my liver is
severed.  But I trust that God will restore me.'  Whereupon his friend
answered, 'Asaad, I am distressed.  But if this is your condition, it
will be much easier for God to make a new man to take your place than
to restore you!'"

One of the most beautiful parables I know, and which I often heard my
father relate, bears on the subject of partiality, and is as follows:--

"Once upon a time there were two men, the one named Ibrahim, the other
Yusuf.  Each of the men had a camel.  It came to pass that when Yusuf
fell sick he asked of his neighbor Ibrahim, who was about to journey to
Alappo, to take his camel with him also, with a load of merchandise.
Yusuf begged Ibrahim to treat the camel in exactly the same manner as
he did his own, and promised him that if God kept him alive until he
came back he would repay him both the good deed, and the cost of the
{145} camel's keep.  Ibrahim accepted the trust, and took his journey
to Alappo, with the two camels.  Upon his return Yusuf saw that his own
camel did not look so well as Ibrahim's.  So he spoke to his friend:
'Ibrahim, by the life of God, what has happened to my camel?  He is not
as good as your camel.  O Ibrahim, did you care for my camel as you did
for your camel?'  Then Ibrahim answered and said, 'By the life of God,
O Yusuf, I fed, and watered, and groomed your camel as I did my camel.
God witnesseth between us, Yusuf, this is the truth.  But I will say to
you, you my eyes, my heart, that when night came and I lay me down on
my cloak to sleep between the two camels, I placed my head nearer to my
camel than to yours.'"

It was the desirableness to Orientals of this type of speech which
prompted the writer of the Gospel of Matthew to say of Jesus, "And
without a parable spake he not unto them."[2]  This utterance itself is
characteristically {146} Oriental.  As a matter of fact, Jesus _did_
often speak to the multitude _without_ parables.  But his strong
tendency to make use of the parable, and its agreeableness to his
hearers, seemed to the Scriptural writer to be a sufficient
justification for his sweeping assertion.

Of the New Testament parables some are quoted in this work in
connection with other subjects than that with which this chapter deals.
I will mention here a few more of these sayings as additional
illustrations of the present subject, and with reference to the
allusions to Oriental life which they contain.

In the thirteenth chapter of Matthew, we have the parable of the wheat
and the tares: "The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed
good seed in his field: but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed
tares among the wheat, and went his way.  But when the blade was sprung
up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also."

The tare (_zewan_) is a grain which when ground with the wheat and
eaten causes dizziness {147} and nausea, a state much like seasickness.
For this reason this plant is hated by the Syrians, although they use
tares very extensively as chicken feed.  Wheat merchants are likely to
sell _kameh mizwen_ (wheat mixed with tares) in hard times, because
they can buy it for less money than pure wheat.  I do not believe there
is a family among the common people of Syria which has not suffered at
one time or another from "tare-sickness."  Having tasted the gall of
this affliction a few times myself, I do not at all wonder at the
Syrians' belief that tares must have come into the world by the Devil.
And what I still remember with both amusement and sympathy are the
heartfelt, withering imprecations which the afflicted ones always
showered upon the seller of the "tarey wheat."  When the food had taken
real effect and the staggering, nauseated members of a family felt
compelled to allow nature to take its course, the gasps and groans
punctuated the ejaculations, "May God destroy his home!"  "May the gold
turn into dust in his hands!" {148} "May he spend the price of what he
sold us at the funerals of his children!"--and so forth.

Do you feel now the force of the allusion to the tares in the parable?
"So the servants of the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst
not thou sow good seed in thy field? from whence then hath it tares?
He said unto them, An enemy hath done this."

Enemies are of course always disposed to injure one another, and in an
agricultural country like Syria harm is often done to property for
revenge.  So the scattering of tares for this purpose in a newly sown
wheat-field is not utterly unnatural or unthinkable.  But the reference
in the parable is to a belief which is prevalent in some districts in
Syria, to the effect that in spite of all that the sower can do to
prevent it, the tares do appear mysteriously in fields where only wheat
had been sown.  Some evil power introduces the noxious plant.  Once I
listened to a heated controversy on the subject between some Syrian
landowners and an American missionary.  The landowners clung to the
belief {149} that tares would appear in a field even if no tare seed
was ever planted in that field, while the son of the West insisted that
no such growth could take place without the seed having first been
introduced into the field in some natural way.  The fight was a draw.

"The servants said unto him, Wilt thou then that we go and gather them
up?  But he said, Nay, lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up
also the wheat with them."

The attempt is often made to pull up the hated tares from among the
wheat, but in vain.  The concluding admonition in the parable may well
be taken to heart by every hasty reformer of the type of a certain
regenerator of society, who, when asked to proceed slowly, said, "The
fact is I am in a hurry, and God is not!"

In the same chapter (Matt. XIII) occurs the parable of the "leaven."
"The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid
in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened."  The setting
of this short {150} parable in Syrian life is given in another
chapter.[3]  But I mention it here in order to give my comment on a
rather strange interpretation of the parable which came recently to my
knowledge.  In the course of a conversation I had with a prominent
Baptist minister not long since, he stated to me that certain
interpreters assert that the leaven in this parable meant the
corruption which has come into the Christian Church, etc.  My friend
was anxious to know whether to my knowledge the Syrians associated
leaven with corruption.

This interpretation echoes an ancient idea of leaven of which modern
Syrians have no knowledge.  They hold the leaven in high and
reverential esteem.[4]  To them it is the symbol of growth and
fecundity.  In many of the rural districts of Syria, upon approaching
the door of her future home the bride is given the _khamera_ (the lump
of leaven) which she pastes on the upper doorsill and passes under it
into the house.  As she performs the solemn act her {151} friends
exclaim, "May you be as blessed and as fruitful as the _khamera_!"

However, it is a well-known fact to readers of ancient records that in
the earliest times bread was entirely unleavened.  When the Israelites
were roaming tribes they ate and offered to Jehovah unleavened bread.
The Arab tribes of to-day on the borders of Syria eat no leavened
bread.  They believe that it tends to reduce the vitality and endurance
of the body.  Perhaps the real reason for preferring the unleavened
bread is that it is much easier to make, and dispenses with taking care
of the lump of leaven between bakings, which is not so convenient for
roaming tribes to do.  The use of unleavened bread for so many
generations among the Israelites constituted its sacredness, and it was
the conservatism of religion which still called for unleavened bread
for the offering, even after leavened bread had become universally the
daily food of the people.

So to the ancients the fermentation in the process of leavening was
considered corruption.  {152} It was something which entered into the
lump and soured it.  The New Testament use of the word "leaven" as
meaning corruption is purely figurative, and signifies influence, or
bad doctrine.  It was in this sense that Jesus used the word when he
said to his disciples:[5] "Take heed and beware of the leaven of the
Pharisees and of the Sadducees"; and again:[6] "Take heed, beware of
the leaven of the Pharisees, and of the leaven of Herod."  The fact
that the disciples did not understand at first what the Master meant
shows that to the general public "leaven" and "corruption" were not
synonymous terms.  Had they been, it is certain that Jesus never would
have said, "The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven."

The fifteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel contains the parables of the
lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son.  The parable of the
lost sheep is discussed in another chapter.[7]  The parable of the lost
coin portrays a very familiar scene in the ordinary Syrian home.  "What
{153} woman," says the Master, "having ten pieces of silver, if she
lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek
diligently till she find it?  And when she hath found it, she calleth
her friends and her neighbors together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I
have found the piece which I had lost."

The candle spoken of here is a little olive-oil lamp--an earthen
saucer, with a protruding lip curled up at one point in the rim for the
wick.  How often have I held that flickering light for my mother while
she searched for a lost coin or some other precious object.  The common
Syrian house has one door and one or two small windows, with wooden
shutters, without glass.[8]  Consequently the interior of the house is
dimly lighted, especially in the winter season.  The scarcity of money
in the hands of the people makes the loss of a coin, of the value of
that which is mentioned in the parable (about sixteen cents), a sad
event.  The {154} little house is searched with eager
thoroughness--"diligently."  The straw mats, cushions, and sheepskins
which cover the floor are turned over, and the earthen floor swept.
The search continues, with diligence and prayerful expectations, until
the lost coin is found.  The Arabic Bible states that the gladdened
woman "calls her _women_ neighbors and friends (_jaratiha
wesedikatiha_), saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece
which I had lost."  The singling out of the _women_ neighbors is
significant here.  As a rule the loss of a precious coin by a woman
calls her husband's wrath upon her, regardless of whether the coin had
been earned by her or by him.  The _women friends_ have a keen
fellow-feeling in such matters.  They keep one another's secrets from
the men, and rejoice when one of their number escapes an unpleasant
situation.

The total meaning of this parable is plain as it is most precious.
Through this common occurrence in a Syrian home, Jesus impresses upon
the minds of his hearers, as well as upon {155} the consciousness of
all mankind, the infinite worth of the human soul, and the Father's
love and care for it.  "Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the
presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth."

The parable of the prodigal son follows immediately that of the lost
coin.  "A certain man had two sons: and the younger of them said to his
father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.  And
he divided unto them his living."  The first thing in this parable to
challenge the attention is the father's quick compliance with the
request of his son.  "And he divided unto them his living."  The custom
of a father dividing his property among his grown sons before his death
prevails much more extensively in the East than in the West.  As a rule
neither the law nor custom gives legal standing to a will.  Sometimes
the father's wishes with regard to how his property should be divided
after his death are carried out by his sons.  But as a general rule the
father who does not divide his property legally between his sons before
his {156} death leaves to them a situation fraught with danger.
Litigation in such cases is very slow and uncertain.

It was such a situation, no doubt, which led the man referred to in the
twelfth chapter of Luke, the thirteenth verse, to say to Jesus,
"Master, speak to my brother, that he divide the inheritance with me.
And he said unto him, Man, who made me a judge or a divider over you?"
And we may easily infer what Jesus thought of that particular case from
his saying which follows immediately his answer to this man.  "And he
said unto them, Take heed, and beware of covetousness: for a man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth."  So
the father of the prodigal son acted normally when he divided his
substance between his two sons.

"And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and
took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance
with riotous living."  The singling out of the younger son for this
adventure comports with {157} a highly cherished Oriental tradition.
The elder son, who was the first-born male child in this household,
could not very well be made to commit such an act.  In a Syrian family
the _bikkr_ (the first-born son) stands next to the father in the
esteem, not only of the members of his own household, but of the
community at large.  He cannot be supposed to be so rash, so unmindful
of his birthright, as to break the sacred family circle, and to waste
his inheritance in riotous living.

"And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land;
and he began to be in want.  And he went and joined himself to a
citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine.
And he would fain have been filled with the husks that the swine did
eat; and no man gave unto him."

To be a swineherd, or a "swine-shepherd," is the most contemptible
occupation an Oriental can think of.  It is no wonder at all to me that
the Gospel writers make the destination of the "legion" of devils which
Jesus cast out of the {158} man "in the country of the Gadarenes," a
herd of swine.[9]  You cannot hire a Syrian to make a pet of a "little
piggie."  If he did, he would be called "_Abu khenzier_" (pig man) for
the rest of his life, and transmit the unenviable title to his
posterity, "even unto the third and fourth generation."

The word "husks" in the English version is not a correct rendering of
the original term.  The marginal note in the Revised Version reads,
"the pods of the carob tree."  The Arabic version says simply _kherrûb_
(carob).  The carob tree is very common in the lowlands of Syria.  It
is a large tree of dense foliage, and round, glossy, dark-green leaves.
The pods it bears measure from five to ten inches in length, are flat,
and largely horn-shaped.  I do not know why the English translators of
the Bible called those pods "husks."  They are sold in almost every
town in western Syria for food.  Children are very fond of _kherrûb_.
Some of the pods contain no small amount of sugar.  In my boyhood {159}
days, a pocketful of _kherrûb_, which I procured for a penny, was to me
rather a treat.  The older people, however, do not esteem _kherrûb_ so
highly as do the children.  The bulk of it is so out of proportion to
the sugar it contains that its poverty is proverbial in the land.  Of
one whose conversation is luxuriant in words and barren of ideas it is
said, "It is like eating _kherrûb_; you have to consume a cord of wood
in order to get an ounce of sweet."  By eating these pods, the poor
people seem to themselves "to have been filled" while in reality they
have received but little nutrition.  Therefore _kherrûb_ is generally
eaten by animals.

It may be observed that the saying in the parable, "and he would fain
have been filled with _kherrûb_ that the swine did eat: and no man gave
unto him," simply describes the prodigal's poverty.  For as a
"swine-shepherd" the "_kherrûb_ that the swine did eat" was certainly
very accessible to him.  The purpose of the passage is to draw the
contrast between the rich parental home which the prodigal had
willingly {160} left and the extremely humble fare on which in his
wretched state he was compelled to subsist.

The return of the prodigal son to his father's house, impoverished but
penitent, the affectionate magnanimity of the father toward his son,
and the spreading of the feast in honor of the occasion, are acts of
humility and generosity which cannot be said to be exclusively
Oriental.  But the command of the father to his servants, "Bring hither
the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and be merry," brings out
the idea of the _zebihat_ (animal sacrifice) with which the West is not
familiar.

The ancient custom, whose echoes have not yet died out in the East, was
that the host honored his guest most highly by killing a sheep at the
threshold of the house, upon the guest's arrival, and inviting him to
step over the blood into the house.  This act formed the "blood
covenant" between the guest and his host.  It made them one.  To us one
of the most cordial and dignified expressions in {161} inviting a
guest, especially from a distant town, was, "If God ever favors us with
a visit from you, we will kill a _zebihat_!"

In his great rejoicing in the return of his son, the father of the
prodigal is made to receive him as he would a most highly honored
guest.  "The fatted calf"--and not only a sheep--is killed as the
_zebihat_ of a new covenant between a loving father and his son, who
"was dead and is alive again; was lost, and is found."[10]

The parable of the "treasure hid in a field"[11] alludes to a very
interesting phase of Syrian thought.  "Again, the kingdom of heaven is
like unto a treasure hid in a field, the which when a man hath found,
he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and
buyeth that field."

I cannot refrain from quoting again in this connection the famous
commentator, Adam Clarke.  Speaking of this parable, he says: "We are
not to imagine that the _treasure_ here {162} mentioned, and to which
the gospel salvation is likened, means a _pot_ or _chest_ of money
hidden in the field, but rather a gold or silver _mine_, which he who
found out could not get at, or work, without turning up the field, and
for this purpose he bought it.  Mr. Wakefield's observation is very
just: 'There is no sense in the _purchase_ of a field for a _pot_ of
_money_, which he might have carried away very _readily_ and as
_honestly_, too, as by overreaching the owner by an unjust purchase.'
... From this view of the subject, the translation of this verse, given
above, will appear proper--a _hidden treasure_, when applied to a _rich
mine_, is more proper than a _treasure hid_, which applies better to a
_pot of money_ deposited there, which I suppose was our translator's
opinion; and _kept secret_, or _concealed_, will apply better to the
subject of his discovery till he made the purchase, than _hideth_, for
which there could be no occasion, when the pot was already _hidden_,
and the place known only to himself."

I have inserted here this double quotation, {163} italics and all, in
order to show how when the real facts are not known to a writer the
temptation to play on words becomes irresistible.  In this exposition
the simple parable is treated as a legal document.  Every word of it is
subjected to careful scrutiny.  "Hid" is converted into "hidden," and
"concealed" is summoned to supplant "hideth," in order to make the
"treasure" mean a vast deposit of gold ore, and get the poor Syrian
peasant into the mining business.

The facts in the case, however, stand opposed to this explanation.  I
am absolutely safe in saying that every man, woman, and child in Syria
understands that this parable refers simply and purely to a treasure of
gold and silver which had been buried in a field by human hands.  The
entanglement of the commentator just quoted in the literary fault of
the parable is inexcusable.

The New Testament writer might have said, not that the man in the
parable _found_ the treasure, but that he was _led_ by certain {164}
signs _to believe_ that a treasure lay hidden in the field.  However,
this is not the Oriental way of stating things, nor should the speaker
in parables be denied the freedom of the poet and the artist to
manipulate the particulars in such a way as to make them serve the
central purpose of his production.

I could fill a book with the stories of hidden treasures which charmed
my boyhood days in Syria.  I have already put into print[12] a detailed
account of my personal experience in digging for a hidden treasure,
which will clearly show that the securing of such riches is not always
so easy to diggers as the quotation just cited would make one believe.
In order to show the attitude of Syrians in general toward this
subject, I will quote the following from my own personal account:--

"In Syria it is universally believed that hidden treasures may be found
anywhere in the land, and especially among ancient ruins.  This {165}
belief rests on the simple truth that the tribes and clans of Syria,
having from time immemorial lived in a state of warfare, have hidden
their treasures in the ground, especially on the eve of battles.

"Furthermore, the wars of the past being wars of extermination, the
vanquished could not return to reclaim their hidden wealth; therefore
the ground is the keeper of vast riches.  The tales of the digging and
finding of such treasures fill the country.  There are thrilling tales
of treasures in various localities.  Gold and other valuables are said
to have been dug up in sealed earthen jars, often by the merest
accident, in the ground, in the walls of houses, under enchanted trees,
and in sepulchers.  From earliest childhood the people's minds are fed
on these tales, and they grow up with all their senses alert to the
remotest suggestions of such possibilities."

The writer of the parable did not need to explain the situation to his
Oriental readers.  The mere mention of a "hidden treasure" was {166}
sufficient to make them know what the words meant.  His supreme purpose
was to impress them with the matchless worth of the kingdom of heaven
which Christ came to reveal to the world.



[1] Revised Version.

[2] Matt. xiii: 34.

[3] See page 198.

[4] See page 199.

[5] Matt. xvi: 6.

[6] Mark viii: 15.

[7] See page 308.

[8] See the author's autobiography, _A Far Journey_, chap. 1, entitled
"My Father's House."

[9] Matt. viii: 32; Mark v: 13; Luke viii: 33.

[10] For the reason why the mother of the prodigal is not mentioned in
the parable, see pages 207 and 334.

[11] Matt. xiii: 44.

[12] _Atlantic Monthly_, December, 1915.  This story, with other
essays, will soon appear in book form.




{167}

CHAPTER VII

SWEARING

Perhaps the one phase of his speech which lays the Oriental open to the
charge of unveracity is his much swearing.  Of course this evil habit
knows no geographical boundaries and no racial limits.  However,
probably because of their tendency to be profuse, intense, and positive
in speech, the Orientals no doubt have more than their legitimate share
of swearing.  But it should be kept in mind that in that part of the
world swearing is not looked upon with the same disapproval and
contempt as in America; swearing by the name of the Deity has always
been considered the most sacred and solemn affirmation of a statement.
It is simply calling God to witness that what has been said is the
sacred truth.  Thus in the twenty-first chapter of the book of Genesis
Abimelech asks Abraham, "Now therefore swear unto me here by God that
thou wilt not deal falsely with me, nor {168} with my son, nor with my
son's son."  "And Abraham said, I will swear."

St. Paul employs this type of speech in a milder form, after the New
Testament fashion, in the opening verse of the twelfth chapter of his
Epistle to the Romans, where he says: "I beseech you, therefore,
brethren, _by the mercies of God_, that ye present your bodies a living
sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable
service."  In the opening verse of the ninth chapter of the Epistle to
the Romans, Paul succeeds in an elegant manner in dispensing with
swearing altogether, when he says: "I say the truth in Christ, I lie
not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost."

Generally speaking, however, the custom of swearing after the manner of
the Old Testament has undergone no change in Syria since the days of
Abraham.  Swearing is an integral element in Oriental speech.
Instinctively the speaker turns his eyes and lifts his hands toward
heaven and says, "By Allah, what I have {169} said is right and true.
_Yeshhedo-Allah_ [God witnesseth] to the truth of my words."  In a
similar manner, and as in a score of places in the Old Testament, the
maker of a statement is asked by his hearer to swear by God as a solemn
assurance that his statement is true and sincere.

The Mohammedan law, which is the law of modern Syria, demands swearing
in judicial contests.  The judge awards the accuser--that is, the
plaintiff--the right to lead the defendant to any shrine he may choose,
and cause him to swear the _yemîn_ (solemn oath) as a final witness to
his innocence.  By this act the plaintiff places his adversary in the
hands of the Supreme Judge, whose judgments are "true and righteous
altogether."  A false oath is supposed to bring awful retribution upon
its maker and upon his posterity.

Of such importance is this mode of speech to Orientals that the
Israelites thought of Jehovah Himself as making such affirmations.  In
the twenty-second chapter of Genesis we have the words, "By myself have
I sworn, saith the {170} Lord."  Further light is thrown on this point
by the explanation given to the verse just quoted in the sixth chapter
of the Epistle to the Hebrews, where it is said, "For when God made
promise to Abraham, because he could swear by no greater, he swore by
himself."

I have no doubt that this thought of God swearing by himself sprang
from the custom of Oriental aristocrats of sealing a vow, or solemnly
affirming a statement, or an intention to do some daring deed, by
saying, "I swear by my head"--an oath which, whenever I heard it in my
youth, filled me with awe.  Thus, also, in the sixty-second chapter of
Isaiah we have the words, "The Lord hath sworn by his right hand, and
by the arm of his strength."

Among the Mohammedans, swearing "by the most high God" and "by the life
of the Prophet" and "by the exalted Koran" in affirmation of almost
every statement, is universal.  The Christians swear by God, Christ,
the Virgin, the Cross, the Saints, the repose of their dead, the Holy
City, the Eucharist, {171} Heaven, great holidays, and many other
names.  A father swears by the life of a dear child, and sons of
distinguished fathers swear by them.  "By the life of my father, I am
telling the truth," is a very common expression.  The antiquity of this
custom is made evident by the passage in the thirty-first chapter of
Genesis and the fifty-third verse: "And Jacob sware by the fear of his
father Isaac."  However, the word "fear" does violence to the real
meaning of the verse, which the Arabic version rescues by saying, "And
Jacob swore by the _heybet_ [benignity, or beautiful dignity] of his
father."  He swore by that which he and others loved, and not feared,
in his father.

But what must seem to Americans utterly ridiculous is the Oriental
habit of swearing by the mustache and the beard, which is, however, one
phase of swearing by the head.  To swear by one's mustache, or beard,
means to pledge the integrity of one's manhood.  "I swear by this," is
said solemnly by a man with his hand upon his mustache.  Swearing by
the {172} beard is supposed to carry more weight because, as a rule, it
is worn by the older men.  To speak disrespectfully of one's mustache
or beard, or to curse the beard of a person's father, is to invite
serious trouble.

The sacredness of the beard to Orientals goes back to the remote past
when all the hair of the head and the face was considered sacred.
Growing a beard is still esteemed a solemn act in Syria, so much so
that, having let his beard grow, one cannot shave it off without
becoming a by-word in the community.  To speak of the scissors or of a
razor in the presence of one wearing a beard, especially if he be a
priest, or of the aristocracy, is considered a deep insult to him.
Such unseemly conduct seldom fails to precipitate a fight.  In 2
Samuel, the tenth chapter, fourth verse, we have the record of Hanun's
disgraceful treatment of David's men, whom he had thought to be spies.
"Wherefore Hanun took David's servants, and shaved off the one half of
their beards, and cut off their garments in the middle, even to their
buttocks, {173} and sent them away.  When they told it unto David, he
sent to meet them, because the men _were greatly ashamed_: and the king
said, Tarry at Jericho _until your beards be grown_, and then return."

It is because of this ancient conception of the hair that the Syrians
still swear by the mustache and the beard, although the majority of
them know not the real reason why they do so.

I remember distinctly how proud I was in my youth to put my hand upon
my mustache, when it was yet not even large enough to be respectfully
noticed, and swear by it _as a man_.  I recall also to what roars of
laughter I would provoke my elders at such times, to my great dismay.

Here it may easily be seen that swearing in the Orient had so lost its
original sacredness and become so vulgar, even as far back as the time
of Christ, that He deemed it necessary to give the unqualified command,
"Swear not at all: neither by heaven, for it is God's throne, nor by
the earth, for it is his footstool: neither by {174} Jerusalem, for it
is the city of the great King.  Neither shalt thou swear by thy head,
because thou canst not make one hair white or black.  But let your
communication be yea, yea; nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these
cometh of evil."  This was perhaps the most difficult command to obey
that Jesus ever gave to his countrymen.




{175}

CHAPTER VIII

FOUR CHARACTERISTICS

Of the other characteristics of Oriental speech, I wish to speak of
four before I bring this part of my book to a close.

The first, the many and picturesque dialects.  The entire absence of
the public school, the scarcity of other educational institutions, as
well as of books and periodicals, and the extreme slowness of
transportation, have always tended to perpetuate the multitude of
dialects in the speech of the Syrian people.  The common language of
the land is the Arabic, which is divided into two types--the classical
and the common, or the language of learning and that of daily speech.
The classical language is one, but the common language is a labyrinth
of dialects.  Each section of that small country has its _lehjah_
(accent), and it is no exaggeration to say that each town within those
sections has a _lehjah_ of its own.  Certain letters of the {176}
alphabet are also sounded differently in different localities.  Thus,
for an example, the word for "stood" is pronounced _qam_ in certain
localities, and _aam_ in others.  The word for "male" is pronounced
_zeker_ by some communities, and _deker_ by others.

That such a state of things prevailed also in ancient Israel and in New
Testament times is very evident.  In the twelfth chapter of the Book of
Judges we have the record of a fight between the Gileadites and the
Ephraimites, in which we find the following statement: "And the
Gileadites took the passages of Jordan before the Ephraimites: and it
was so, that when those Ephraimites which were escaped said, Let me go
over; that the men of Gilead said unto him, Art thou an Ephraimite?  If
he said, Nay; then said they unto him, Say now Shibboleth: and he said
Sibboleth: _for he could not frame to pronounce it right_.  Then they
took him, and slew him."

This simple means of identification might be used in present-day Syria
with equal success.

{177}

In the fourteenth chapter of St. Mark's Gospel we have another striking
illustration of this characteristic of Oriental speech, in Peter's
experience in the palace of the high priest.  In the fifty-third verse
it is said: "And they led Jesus away to the high priest: and with him
were assembled all the chief priests and the elders and the scribes.
And Peter followed him afar off, even into the palace of the high
priest."  The record continues (verses 66-71): "And as Peter was
beneath in the palace, there cometh one of the maids of the high
priest: and when she saw Peter warming himself, she looked upon him,
and said, And thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth.  But he denied,
saying, I know not, neither understand I what thou sayest.  And he went
out into the porch....  And a little after, they that stood by said
again to Peter, Surely thou art one of them: for thou art a Galilaean,
_and thy speech agreeth thereto_.[1]  But he began to curse and to
swear, saying, I know not this man of whom ye speak."

{178}

Poor Peter! the more he swore and cursed the more clearly he revealed
his identity.  His cowardice might have concealed him, but for his
dialect.  He spoke the dialect of Galilee in the city of Jerusalem, and
so far as the identification of his person was concerned, even a
certificate from the authorities of the town of his birth, testifying
to his being a native of Galilee, could not have so effectively served
that purpose.

The second characteristic is the juvenile habit of imploring "in season
and out of season" when asking a favor.  To try to exert "undue"
influence, virtually to beg in most persuasive tones, is an Oriental
habit which to an American must seem unendurable.  Of the many
illustrations of this custom which fill my memory I will relate the
following incident, which I once heard a man relate to my father.

This man had bought, for six hundred piasters, a piece of land which
had been given as a _nezer_ (vow) to our Greek Orthodox Church.  After
he had given his note for the {179} sum and secured the deed, it
occurred to him that the price was too high, and, being himself a son
of the Church, that he ought to secure the land for four hundred
piasters.  So, as he stated, he went to Beyrout, the seat of our
bishop, where he stayed three days.  By constant petitioning, he
secured the privilege of interviewing the bishop four times on the
subject.  With great glee he stated that at the last interview he
refused to rise from his seat at the feet of that long-suffering
ecclesiastic until his petition was granted.

One of the most striking examples of this characteristic is the parable
of the unrighteous judge, in the eighteenth chapter of Luke.  "There
was in a city a judge, which feared not God, neither regarded man: and
there was a widow in that city, and she came unto him saying, Avenge me
[the original is "do me justice"] of mine adversary.  And he would not
for a while: but afterward he said within himself, Though I fear not
God, nor regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me, I will {180}
avenge her, _lest by her continual coming she weary me_."

Here is a case--by no means a rare exception in that country--where a
judge rendered a verdict against his own best judgment in sheer
self-defense.  And I must say that, knowing such Oriental tendencies as
I do, especially as manifested by widows, I am in deep sympathy with
the judge.

Yet it was this very persistence in petitioning the Father of all men
which gave mankind the lofty psalms and tender prayers of our
Scriptures.  It was this persistent filial pleading and imploring which
made Israel turn again and again to the "God of righteousness" and say,
"We have sinned," and ask for a deeper revealing of his ways to them.
Job's cry, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him," may not be the
proper language of modern etiquette, but it certainly is the language
of religion.  In the very parable just quoted, Jesus recommends to his
disciples the insistence of the widow as a means to draw the
benediction of heaven upon {181} them, and to secure for them
justification at the hands of the righteous judge.  Honest seekers
after spiritual gifts should not be averse to imitating this Oriental
trait.  They should never be afraid to come to their Father again and
again for his gracious blessing, or refrain from "storming the gates of
heaven with prayer."

The third characteristic of Oriental speech is its intimacy and
unreserve.  Mere implications which are so common to reserved and
guarded speech leave a void in the Oriental heart.  It is because of
this that the Orientals have always craved "signs and wonders," and
interpreted natural phenomena in terms of direct miraculous
communications from God to convince them that He cared for them.
Although Gideon was speaking with Jehovah Himself, who promised to help
him to save his kinsmen from the Midianites, he asked for a more
tangible, more definite sign.  We are told in the sixth chapter of
Judges, thirty-sixth verse: "And Gideon said unto God, If thou wilt
save Israel by mine hand, as thou hast spoken, behold, I will put a
{182} fleece of wool on the threshing-floor; if there be dew on the
fleece only, and it be dry upon all the ground, then shall I know that
thou wilt save Israel by mine hand, as thou hast spoken.  And it was
so."  But Gideon, still unsatisfied, speaks again in childlike
simplicity and intimacy; "Let not thine anger be kindled against me,
and I will speak but this once: let me make trial, I pray thee, but
this once with the fleece; let it now be dry only upon the fleece, and
upon all the ground let there be dew.  And God did so that night."

It is not at all uncommon for old and tried friends in Syria to give
and ask for affectionate assurances, that they do love one another.
Such expressions are the wine of life.  Especially when new confidences
are exchanged or great favors asked, a man turns with guileless eyes to
his trusted friend and says, "Now you love me; I say you love me, don't
you?"  "My soul, my eyes," answers the other, "you know what is in my
heart toward you; you know and the Creator knows!"  Then the request is
made.  {183} One of the noblest and tenderest passages in the New
Testament, a passage whose spirit has fed the strength of the Christian
missionaries throughout the ages, is that portion of the twenty-first
chapter of St. John's Gospel where Jesus speaks to Peter in this
intimate Syrian fashion.  How sweet and natural it sounds to a son of
the East!  "So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon,
son of Jonas, lovest thou me?"  How characteristic also is Peter's
answer, "Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee."  Then came the
precious request, "Feed my lambs."  Three times did the affectionate
Master knock at the door of Peter's heart, till the poor impetuous
disciple cried, "Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I
love thee.  Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep."

The fourth characteristic of Oriental speech is its unqualified
positiveness.  Outside the small circles of Europeanized Syrians, such
qualifying phrases as "in my opinion," "so it seems to me," "as I see
it," and the like, are {184} almost entirely absent from Oriental
speech.  The Oriental is never so cautious in his speech as a certain
American editor of a religious paper, who in speaking of Cain described
him as "the _alleged_ murderer of Abel"!  Such expressions, also, are
rarely used in the Bible, and then only in the New Testament, in which
Greek influence plays no small part.  Thus in the seventh chapter of
his second Epistle to the Corinthians, Paul, in giving his opinion on
marriage said, "_I suppose_, therefore, that this is good for the
present distress," and so forth.  I am not aware that this form of
speech is used anywhere in the entire Old Testament.

The language of the Oriental is that of sentiment and conviction, and
not of highly differentiated and specialized thought.  When you say to
him, "I think this object is beautiful," if he does not think it is so,
he says, "No, it is not beautiful."  Although he is expressing his own
individual opinion, he does not take the trouble to make that perfectly
clear: if an object is not beautiful to him, it _is not_ beautiful.

{185}

From an intellectual and social standpoint, this mode of speech may be
considered a serious defect.  So do children express themselves.  But
it should be kept in mind that the Oriental mind is that of the prophet
and the seer, and not of the scientist and the philosopher.  It is the
mind which has proven the most suitable transmissive agency of divine
revelation.

When the seer beholds a vision of the things that are eternal, he
cannot speak of it as a supposition or a guess, or transmit it with
intellectual caution and timidity.  "Thus saith the Lord."  "The word
of the Lord came unto me saying, Son of man, prophesy."  When we speak
of the deepest realities of life, we do not beset our utterances with
qualifying phrases.  True love, deep sorrow, a real vision of spiritual
things transcend all speculative speech; they press with irresistible
might for direct and authoritative expression.

Take for an example Jesus' matchless declaration: "The Spirit of the
Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the {186} gospel
[glad tidings] to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted,
to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the
blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the
acceptable year of the Lord."[2]  How would this great utterance sound
if given in the nice, cautious language of an "up-to-date" thinker?
What force would it carry if put in this form, "It seems to me,
although I may be entirely mistaken, that something like what may be
termed the 'Spirit of the Lord' is upon me, and I feel that, in my own
limited way, I must preach the Gospel"?

Of course reckless, dogmatic assertions from the pulpit are never wise
nor profitable.  Ultimately, whether in the realms of science or
spiritual experience, the facts are the things which will count.
Nevertheless, it must be admitted that the modern pulpit suffers to a
large extent from overcautiousness.  By many ministers the facts are
evaluated more in an intellectual than in a spiritual sense.  Hence
that {187} cautiousness in utterance which is seriously threatening the
spirit of prophecy and the authority of real spiritual _experience_ in
the religious teachers of the present day.  Legitimate intellectual
caution should never be allowed to degenerate into spiritual timidity,
nor the knowledge of outward things to put out the prophetic fire in
the soul.  There is, no doubt, much food for thought in the following
legend.  It is said of a preacher, who was apparently determined not to
make "rash statements," that in speaking to his people on repentance he
had this for his final word: "If you do not repent, as it were, and be
converted, in a measure, you will be damned, to a certain extent."  The
congregation that has such a preacher is damned already!  And I
perceive some difference between such a preacher and Him who says,
"Verily, I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."[3]

This seeming weakness in Oriental speech {188} and in the Bible is in
reality tremendous spiritual strength.  Through our sacred Scriptures
we hear the voices of those great Oriental prophets who spoke as they
saw and felt; as seers, and not as logicians.  And it was indeed most
fortunate for the world that the Bible was written in an age of
instinctive listening to the divine Voice, and in a country whose
juvenile modes of speech protected the "rugged maxims" of the
Scriptures from the weakening influences of an overstrained
intellectualism.



[1] See also Matt. xxvi: 73.

[2] Luke iv: 18.

[3] Matt. xviii: 3.




{191}

PART III

BREAD AND SALT




CHAPTER I

THE SACRED 'AISH

To an Oriental the phrase "bread and salt" is of sacred import.  The
saying, "There is bread and salt between us," which has been prevalent
in the East from time immemorial, is equal to saying, "We are bound
together by a solemn covenant."  To say of one that he "knows not the
significance of bread and salt" is to stigmatize him as a base ingrate.

A noble foe refuses to "taste the salt" of his adversary--that is, to
eat with him--so long as he feels disinclined to be reconciled to him.
Such a foe dreads the thought of repudiating the covenant which the
breaking of bread together forms.  In the rural districts of Syria,
much more than in the cities, is still observed the ancient custom that
a man on an important mission should not eat his host's bread until the
errand is made known.  The covenant of "bread and salt" should not be
entered into {192} before the attitude of the host toward his guest's
mission is fully known.  If the request is granted, then the meal is
enjoyed as a fraternal affirmation of the agreement just made.  So in
the twenty-fourth chapter of the Book of Genesis we are told that
Abraham's servant, who had gone to Mesopotamia, "unto the city of
Nahor," to bring a wife of his master's kindred to his son Isaac,
refused to eat at Laban's table before he had told his errand.  With
characteristic Oriental hospitality the brother of Rebekah, after
hearing his sister's story, sought Abraham's faithful servant, "and,
behold, he stood by the camels at the well.  And he said, Come in, thou
blessed of the Lord; wherefore standest thou without? for I have
prepared the house, and room for the camels.  And the man came into the
house....  And there was set meat before him to eat: but he said, _I
will not eat, until I have told mine errand_."[1]  The errand having
been told, "the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of
gold, and raiment, and {193} gave them to Rebekah....  _And they did
eat and drink_, he and the men that were with him."[2]

Of all his enemies, the writer of the forty-first Psalm considered the
"familiar friend" who went back on his simple covenant to be the worst.
"Yea," he cries, mournfully, "mine own familiar friend, in whom I
trusted, which did eat my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me."

As the son of a Syrian family I was brought up to think of bread as
possessing a mystic sacred significance.  I never would step on a piece
of bread fallen in the road, but would pick it up, press it to my lips
for reverence, and place it in a wall or some other place where it
would not be trodden upon.

What always seemed to me to be one of {194} the noblest traditions of
my people was their reverence for the _'aish_ (bread; literally, "the
life-giver").  While breaking bread together we would not rise to
salute an arriving guest, whatever his social rank.  Whether spoken or
not, our excuse for not rising and engaging in the cordial Oriental
salutation before the meal was ended, was our reverence for the food
(_hirmetel-'aish_).  We could, however, and always did, invite the
newcomer most urgently to partake of the repast.

At least once each year, for many years, I carried the _korban_ (the
bread offering) to the _mizbeh_ (altar of sacrifice) in our village
church, as an offering for the repose of the souls of our dead as well
as for our own spiritual security.  Bread was one of the elements of
the holy Eucharist.  The mass always closed with the handing by the
priest to the members of the congregation of small pieces of
consecrated bread.  The Gospel taught us also that Christ was the
"bread of life."

The _'aish_ was something more than mere {195} matter.  Inasmuch as it
sustained life, it was God's own life made tangible for his child, man,
to feed upon.  The Most High himself fed our hunger.  Does not the
Psalmist say, "Thou openest thine hand, and satisfieth the desire of
every living thing"?  Where else could our daily bread come from?



[1] Verses 30-33.

[2] Verses 53-54.  The word "drink," which is frequently used in the
Bible in connection with the word "eat," does not necessarily refer to
wine drinking.  The expression "food and drink" is current in Syria,
and means simply "board."  An employer says to an employee, "I will pay
you so much wages, and your food and drink" (aklek washirbek).  The
drink may be nothing but water.




{196}

CHAPTER II

"OUR DAILY BREAD"

I have often heard it said by "up-to-date" religionists in this country
that the saying in the Lord's Prayer, "Give us this day our daily
bread," was at best a beggar's lazy petition.  It has been suggested
that those words should be omitted from the prayer, because they
pertain to "material things."  And at any rate we can get our daily
bread only by working for it.

Yes; and the Oriental understands all that.  But he perceives also that
by working for his daily bread he does not _create_ it, but simply
_finds_ it.  The prayer, "Give us this day our daily bread" is a note
of pure gratitude to the "Giver of all good and perfect gifts."  The
Oriental does not know "material things" as the Occidental knows them.
To him organic chemistry does not take the place of God.  He is, in his
totality, God-centered.  His center of gravity is the altar and not the
factory, and back {197} of his prayer for daily bread is the momentum
of ages of mystic contemplation.  The Oriental finds kinship, not with
those who go for their daily bread no farther than the bakery, but with
the writer of this modern psalm:--

  "Back of the loaf is the snowy flour,
  Back of the flour the mill;
  Back of the mill is the wheat and the shower
  And the sun and the Father's will."


It is not my purpose to exaggerate the piety and moral rectitude of the
Oriental.  I am fully aware of the fact that he is lamentably lacking
in his efforts to rise to the height of his noblest traditions.
Nevertheless, those who know the Oriental's inner life know also that
from seed-time until harvest, and until the bread is placed upon the
family board, this man's attitude toward the "staff of life" is
essentially religious.  In the name of God he casts the seed into the
soil; in the name of God he thrusts the sickle into the ripe harvest;
in the name of God he scatters his sheaves on the threshing floor and
grinds his grain at the mill; and in the name of {198} God his wife
kneads the dough, bakes the bread, and serves it to her family.

In my childhood days "kneading-day" at our house was always of peculiar
significance to me.  I had no toys or story-books to engage my
attention, and it was with the greatest interest that I watched my
mother go through the process of kneading.  Her pious words and actions
made kneading a sort of religious service.

After making the sign of the cross and invoking the Holy Name, she drew
the required quantity of flour out of a small opening near the bottom
of the earthen barrel in which the precious meal was stored.  It was
out of such a barrel that the widow of "Zarephath which belongeth to
Zidon" drew the "handful of meal" she had, and made of it a cake for
Elijah, for which favor the fiery prophet prayed that the widow's
barrel of meal "shall not waste."

Then my mother packed the flour in the shape of a crescent on one side
of the large earthen _maajan_ (kneading basin) which is about thirty
inches in diameter.  She dissolved the {199} salt in warm water, which
she poured in the basin by the embankment of flour.  Then with a "God
bless" she took out the leaven--a lump of dough saved from the former
baking--which she had buried in flour to keep it "from corruption,"
that is, from overfermentation.  This leaven she dissolved carefully in
the salt water, and by slowly mixing the meal with this fluid, she
"hid" the leaven in the meal.  It was this process which Jesus
mentioned very briefly in the parable of the leaven in the thirteenth
chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel.  "The kingdom of heaven is like unto
leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the
whole was leavened."

The kneading done, my mother smoothed the surface of the blessed lump,
dipped her hand in water, and with the edge of her palm marked a deep
cross the whole length of the diameter of the basin, crossed herself
three times, while she muttered an invocation, and then covered the
basin and left the dough to rise.  The same pious attitude was resumed
{200} when the raised dough was made into small loaves, during the
baking, and whenever the mother of the family put her hand into the
basin where the loaves were kept, to take out bread for her family's
needs.

Does it now seem strange, unnatural, or in any way out of harmony with
the trend of her whole life, for such a woman to pray, "Give us this
day our daily bread"?  Shall we receive the gifts and forget the Giver?
However circuitous our way to our daily bread may be, the fact remains
that we do feed on God's own life.  "The earth is the Lord's and the
fullness thereof."

The use of iron stoves was unknown to the Syrians in my childhood days;
and this modern convenience is now used only by some of the well-to-do
people in the large cities.  The rank and file of the people, as in the
days of ancient Israel, still bake their bread at semi-public ovens, a
few of which are found in every village and town.  This baking-place is
mentioned often in the Bible, but the word "oven" in the English
translation is somewhat misleading.  It {201} is so because the
_tennûr_ (translated "oven" in the Bible) is unknown to the
English-speaking world, if not to the entire Occident.  The _tennûr_ is
a huge earthen tube about three feet in diameter and about five feet
long; it is sunk in the ground within a small, roughly constructed hut.
The women bake their bread at the _tennûr_ in turn, certain days being
assigned to certain families.  The one baking comprises from one
hundred to two hundred loaves.  The fuel, which consists of small
branches of trees, and of thistles and straw, is thrown into the
_tennûr_ in large quantities.  It is to this that Jesus alludes in the
passage, "If then God so clothe the grass which is to-day in the field,
and to-morrow is _cast into the oven_, how much more will he clothe
you, O ye of little faith?"

When I recall the sight of a burning _tennûr_, I do not find it
difficult to imagine what the old theologians meant by the "burning
pit."  The billows of black smoke, pierced at intervals by tongues of
flame issuing from the deep hole, convert the chimneyless hut into an
active {202} crater.  No one who has seen such a sight can fail to
understand what the prophet Malachi meant when he exclaimed, "For,
behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud,
yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble."[1]  And no one who
has seen that little hut, virtually plastered with the blackest soot,
can fail to understand the full meaning of that passage in the fifth
chapter of the Book of Lamentations, the tenth verse, which says, "Our
skin was black like an oven, because of the terrible famine."

A large baking is a source of pride as well as a means of security.  A
Syrian housewife is proud to have the oven all to herself for a whole
day.  It is a disgrace--nay, a curse--to have a small baking, or to buy
bread in small quantity, "one weight" at a time.  One of the terrible
threats to Israel, recorded in the twenty-sixth chapter of the Book of
Leviticus, the twenty-sixth verse, is this: "When I have broken the
staff of your bread, ten women shall {203} bake your bread in one oven,
and they shall deliver you your bread again by weight: and ye shall eat
and not be satisfied."  My mother often admonished us to be thankful
that we were not like those who had to buy their bread by weight--that
is, in small quantities.

But this saying, "and they shall deliver you your bread again by
weight," may mean also the weighing of the portions delivered to the
various members of the family, in order that no one may receive more
than any other, and that the scanty supply of food may be more
carefully doled out.  However, probably because no real famine ever
occurred in Syria within my memory, I never knew of the actual
resorting, within the family circle, to such severe restrictions in the
distribution of the daily food.  A similar practice, however, prevails
among the Arab tribes in sharing their meager supply of water, while
traveling in the desert.  In order to insure equality, a pebble is
placed in the bottom of a small wooden cup into which the water is
poured.  The draught {204} which each traveler receives at long
intervals is "the covering of the pebble," that is, only the quantity
of water needed just to cover the pebble in the cup.



[1] Mal. iv: 1.




{205}

CHAPTER III

"COMPEL THEM TO COME IN"

The hospitality of Orientals is proverbial the world over.  And while
some Westerners have an exaggerated idea of Oriental generosity, the
son of the East is not unjustly famous for his readiness to offer to
wayfarers the shelter of his roof and his bread and salt.  The person
who fails to extend such hospitality brings reproach, not only upon
himself, but upon his whole clan and town.

But whether hospitality is extended to strangers or to friends, it is
the man who entertains, and not the woman.  The invitation is extended
in the name of the husband alone, or, if the husband is not living, in
the name of the eldest son.  In the case of a widow who has no male
children, a man relative is asked to act as hos

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