THE MORNING CONSECRATION
"The next morning Jacob got up very early. He took the
stone he had used as a pillow and set it upright as a memorial pillar. Then
he poured olive oil over it." Genesis 28:18
The Patriarch had fully realized the solemnity of the
occasion, and the holiness of the ground which he had made his couch of
repose. He felt it was no mere illusion of which he had been spectator. At
all events the assurance grew with his waking thoughts, that his dream
manifested divinest spiritual verities, of which he was himself the
privileged partaker.
He obeys the first and natural impulse of these moments
of mingled joy and dread. God has spoken to him; and, as the recipient of
wondrous and undeserved mercy, he now makes preparation to address his
divine Sustainer in return. He rises at dawn of day, when the fleecy clouds
are still skirting the hill-tops and the earth around is "sown with orient
pearl." The northern journey must before-long be resumed. Before, however,
taking up his staff, he proceeds to erect a memento of this night of
hallowed memories. Not only does he desire to set up a pillar of
consecration; but, on the expectation of return from his distant pilgrimage,
he would by this means also identify the spot whose associations would ever
be the most sacred of his life. With the stones so abundantly lying around
he would have wished, perhaps, to rear a commemorative "heap" of larger
dimensions and worthier of the occasion. Being, however, alone and without
aid, he must defer any permanent memento. Meanwhile, all he can venture to
accomplish is to take the boulder which he had used for his pillow, and
place it, as best he could, in an upright position. This crude monolith will
be the pledge of some more conspicuous and enduring monument in time to
come. No chisel had he to carve any inscription, even had the stone admitted
of this.
As it was customary, however, for all travelers in the
East, as it is to this day, to carry with them a flask of oil for mixing
with their food, as well as for external use, he pours some of the contents
of his "skin bottle" on the extemporized pillar. It is the first
consecration of notable places of which we read in sacred story--the setting
apart of the rough rock of this upland from a common, to a holy
use. If the grateful dreamer can engrave no lettering on its unhewn base, he
can at least pronounce over it the name that has ever since sent its
multiplying echoes through all ages--all lands--all believing
hearts--BETHEL--"the House of God." It was the Jehovah-Shalom
(Judges 6:24), or the Ebenezer (1 Samuel 7:12) of a future period--a
STONE of everlasting remembrance. It was specially in connection with this
incident, that the God to whose name and glory it was erected, had added
henceforth to His other venerated titles that to which we have already made
more than one allusion--the "Shepherd of the stone of Israel."
It may be worthy of remark in passing-- that, whether
borrowed from the example of Jacob or not, the employment of 'commemoration
stones' became common in all countries. "Crude stones and posts were the
first memorials of the Phoenician people. Near Cadiz, heaps of stone used to
be indicated as the famous 'Pillars' which are said to have commemorated the
expedition of Hercules to Spain. The ancient people of the North preserved
the memory of events by placing stones of extraordinary size in particular
places, and this method is still used by the American savages, among whom
writing is unknown. The manner in which such monuments were made subservient
to this purpose is clearly described in Joshua 4. Parents explained to their
children the object of such memorials, and instructed them in the facts
which gave occasion to them. In this way tradition supplied in some degree
the place of written records." (Pictorial Bible.)
The custom was specially prevalent in the East. Sacred
spots and events were identified and memorialized by one--or it may be a
group of stones; while oil, sometimes combined with wine, sometimes with
blood, was poured for a libation on the top, as the symbol of dedication to
God. "I had often observed," to quote still further not only the words but
the personal observation of Dr. Kitto, "such stones, without being aware of
their object, until happening one day to overturn one that had been set upon
another, a man hastened to replace it, at the same time informing me that to
displace such stones was an act unfortunate for the person so displacing it,
and unpleasant to others. The writer afterwards observed, that the natives
studiously avoided displacing any of these stones 'set up for a pillar' by
the wayside."
Let us note the instantaneous assent given by the
Patriarch to the first impulse of his revived and reinvigorated soul. The
voice of God begets an immediate and willing response. No time is wasted
that might endanger the displacement or absorption of waking thoughts! No
question or wonderment as to whether all he had seen was fantasy or reality
until the very vision itself had been dreamed away and passed into
nothingness. Neither was there any needless moping over a guilty past; no
questioning of the sincerity of the divine assurance of forgiveness and
mercy. He resembles the prodigal of the later parable, of whom it is said
that when he came to himself "--in the first flash of conviction--the first
dawn of nobler purposes--"then he arose and went to his father." Or
it recalls the prompt resolve of the royal Psalmist--"I thought on my ways,
and turned my feet unto Your testimonies. I made haste, and delayed not to
keep Your commandments" (Ps. 119:59, 60).
In this we see one of the compensating features even in
the natural character of Jacob, that of energetic purpose combined with
immediate action. It accords with his vehement wrestling, in after
years, with the Angel at Jabbok. He was resolute of will, alike in spiritual
and in secular matters, and that despite of every hindrance and
discouragement. These are qualities which go far to make alike the noble and
the successful man. Many a fair life of promise is ruined by irresolution
and procrastination. The iron cannot be welded which is allowed to cool. The
waverer, driven by the wind and tossed, seldom reaches the "Fair Havens."
The men who climb to the pinnacle are alike prompt in deed and undeterred by
difficulty. Not infrequently with a covert sneer they may be called
impulsive. Be it so. It is they, nevertheless, who thus make thought
germinate at once into purpose; who are the true heroes in the strife; for
whom the world has been the better while they lived, and whom the world has
honored when they died. Yes, we repeat, the victorious and laurel-wreathed
in higher than earthly battles, are those who, acting on impulse if
you will, the voice within responding to the voice without, have sprung
resolute from the pillow of sentiment and ease and drowsy contemplation, to
erect their stone and vow their vow. David was conspicuously, of all Bible
characters, a man of impulse--(the Peter of Old Testament story). See how he
resolves on rearing his pillar, and pouring upon it consecrating oil--"He
swore unto the Lord and vowed unto the mighty God of Jacob; Surely I will
not come into the tabernacle of my house, nor go up into my bed; I will not
give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids, until I find a place for
the Lord, an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob" (Ps. 132:2-5).
Our Patriarch's conduct seems to teach farther, that
each great crisis of our life should be sanctified and hallowed by the
invocation of the divine blessing. Whatever be the new path we are to
pursue, the new relation we are to form, the new duty on which we are to
enter, the new scheme we are to undertake, whether it be domestic or public,
personal or relative, let it be 'consecrated,' by at once seeking the Divine
guidance, and hearing the Divine voice saying, "This is the way, walk in
it." Let youth especially bear in mind that Jacob's was a morning
dedication. There is little fear of the later period in one's life, if the
altar-stones be reared and the anointing oil poured upon them in life's
early dawn, before the great journey be undertaken. It was a noble motto and
watchword bequeathed to us by the great Psalmist--"I shall be anointed with
fresh oil" (Ps. 92:10). Thus anointed, in the very grappling with
evil and temptation, you will become morally strong; just as the oak, in
wrestling with the tempest, moors its roots all the firmer and deeper in the
rock. Other inspired words form an appropriate invocation in beginning or
renewing your pilgrimage--"Your Spirit is good, lead me to the land of
uprightness." "Take not Your Holy Spirit from me." You can look undismayed
along life's vista, when you have this all-glorious triple benediction to
gladden the way--"The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God,
and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit."
And what Jacob did one morning, be it yours to do every
morning--setting up the pillar and pouring upon it the consecrating oil. "My
voice will You hear in the morning, O Lord! In the morning will I direct my
prayer unto You and will look up!" Seek to wake, day by day, with the
consciousness of the grandeur of life; armor yourself for its spiritual
battles. The allegorical idea of a great painter of the Middle Ages is one
specially appropriate for every Pilgrim commencing or renewing the spiritual
journey. In Giotto's well-known picture in the Arena Chapel of Padua, Faith
is represented at morning dawn with a cross in her right hand and the creed
in her left. A key is suspended at her belt, while she stamps under foot the
horoscope of the astrologer. The thought conveyed by this religious teacher
of his day may be thus interpreted in words--Christ crucified the young
believer's hope; the word of Jesus his trust; all false confidences disowned
and trampled upon the key of prayer ever at hand to open the rich treasure
house of the Promises and make them all his own!
And oh! be it remembered, as we had occasion to note in
last chapter, that there is, on the other hand, such a thing as the
desecration of life's early morning--when the vision is given, the dream
dreamed, the voice of God in childhood heard and unfolded by a mother's
lips--but the Bethel-land is left, and the early perilous road is traversed
without erection of pillar or consecration of holy oil. Can we wonder, when
such is the case--when the knee is unbent in prayer--when religious
opportunities are shunned and evaded; when every dream of heaven is blotted
out with low counterfeit dreams of earth--that the moral courage falters,
and moral strength becomes enervated--that the dark doubt displaces the
simple faith; and the departure of child innocence is before-long
detected by the restless eye and the lowering brow; the familiar, open,
innocent countenance--the fellowship with true and faithful souls--exchanged
for the embarrassed look and the questionable companionship. Can we wonder,
that, caged in darkness, away from the light of Heaven and God, the eye of
the young eagle should film and his wing droop--that the clear ringing voice
should come gradually no longer to tremble at a falsehood, or to startle at
the name of wrong-doing or impurity?
One other thought suggests itself at this part of the
vision--that "every place is hallowed ground." This Bethel dreamland was the
first spot which was actually named "the House of God;" and in this sense,
though preceded by other Patriarchal altars, it may be regarded as the
earliest church of the Jewish nation, the prototype of the churches of
future Christendom. How destitute it was of all ecclesiastical accessories
and attractions we have already seen--a single stone--a crude monolith in a
bleak sheep-walk!
We are not of those who discard all that is chaste and
befitting in places of earthly worship, or who venture to denounce such as a
return to the Jewish "beggarly elements." On the contrary, we never can see
that true piety or genuine devotion is incongruous or incompatible with
grandeur of form, or loveliness of ritual. But it is a comfort and
consolation also for those who, from local, geographical, or other
circumstances, are denied these external "beauties of holiness," to see in
the case of this lonely exile, that the Divine Being is "not confined to
Temples made with hands." The true Temple is not the 'holy building'. To
that place belongs the real consecration where souls are saved and God is
glorified. On the one hand, a man may worship in a cathedral, with all the
accompaniments of embossed aisle--cloistered seclusion--luscious
music--intoned litany--and yet remain cold and unmoved as the speechless
unimpassioned stone or pillar at his side.
While on the other hand, some humble worshipers may be
gathered in lowly mission-tent, or Highland barn; in African Kraal, or
Australian log-house. They may show, by look and garb, that they are able to
claim poverty as their only birthright. To cultured eye and ear, their
ritual may be unadorned and repelling; their music may be dissonance. But
yet, in the eye of God and angels, the latter may be the truer Bethel of the
two--its "pillar" not the less accepted, because it is composed of rough
stones instead of marble--its oil not the less holy, because it is not
contained in golden vessels.
No, more--there may, and often is, a danger in the one
which is not in the other. True devotion may be counterfeited and
travestied. There may, by mere outward attractions, be the perilous appeal
to imagination and sensuous emotion. An idol may be made of gaudy forms,
voluptuous sounds, and 'dim religious light.' The evening rock of Jacob may
be, in truth, the better and safer altar-stone. At all events, we repeat,
that we may gather from this record of the world's earliest Sanctuary, that
the House of God--the most honored and hallowed Bethel--is where God
Himself is, and where the Gospel-ladder is most faithfully set up before
the spiritual eye.
In other words, where Christ, the one only Way to the
Father, is most fully proclaimed in the united Majesty of His Godhead and
the tenderness of His humanity. The Temple He loves is that whose fumes of
incense are heart-breathed prayers and praises; whose true font is the
invisible baptism of the divine Spirit; whose true apostolic succession is
the succession of Christian virtues; whose altar-fires consist of devout
desires kindled, and noble life-purposes formed; whose most radiant
altar-lights are glimpses, revealed by the torch of faith, of the better
Church above.
Let every 'sick one whom Jesus loves'--every lonely
bed-ridden child of weakness and suffering--remember, that it is not within
earthly Sanctuaries alone, or to the summons of the Sabbath-bell,
that Cowper's well-known lines apply--
"Here we may prove the power of prayer
To strengthen faith and sweeten care,
To teach our faint desires to rise,
And bring all heaven before our eyes"--
but that in the darkened chamber, and by the
pain-stricken pillow, if there be a sincere believer there, there is a
prayer-hearing, and a prayer-answering, and a covenant-keeping God.
Loneliest vigils may themselves thus form the truest worship. Unseen
choristers from the upper Sanctuary may be gathering within these curtains
and hovering around that aching head. The Lord of Angels can make the house
of mourning, and the bed of languishing, as the 'House of God' and as the
'Gate of Heaven'!