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Title: The Divine Guest
Author: Samuel Osgood [
More Titles by Osgood]
The long rainy season was over, the roads once more were settled, and the happiest festival of all the year joined with the charms of Spring to draw the Hebrew people toward their sacred city. Nowhere in the whole land was there more to cheer the eye than in the beautiful town through which the festal caravans from the north were now passing on their way to the Passover. Jericho was called "the City of Palms," from the profusion of those stately trees in its fertile valley. These now added spring blossoms to their evergreen foliage; the sycamore was beginning to give cheering promise of its figs, and the balsam-tree, whose gum was worth twice its weight in silver, was showing its scanty and precious bloom in the walled gardens, whose wealth Mark Anthony gave to Cleopatra as a fit gift from a conqueror to a queen. The people were astir with the excitement of the season, as the travellers began to pour into the city. Soon word went round that the noted prophet, Jesus of Nazareth, was approaching, with a large company about him. The wonder grew, as the report of a great miracle upon the blind Bartimeus went from mouth to mouth. The fever reached into quarters not abounding in Jewish enthusiasm, and quickened the calmer blood of the revenue officers of the Roman government. The chief of them went out to get a glimpse of the famous preacher, whom so many hailed as the long-expected Messiah. The rich publican, being a man of small stature, and, from his political relations, not likely to receive much civility from the crowd at such a time, climbed up into a sycamore fig-tree, whose spreading branches probably overhung the street. If seen at all by the populace it was with little favor, for they hated alike his connection with Rome and his lax, or, perhaps, his enlarged views of the Jewish creed. To the surprise of all as much as himself, the publican is singled out by the Messiah from among them all in the words: "Zaccheus, make haste and come down; for to-day I must abide in thy house." The result of this interview is all that is said of Christ's stay in that place. The city, once an abode of kings, has passed away, and enough of its ruin only remains to allow tradition to point out in a crumbling tower and a solitary tree the publican's house and watch post. The story remains, the burden of the rude rhyme of the primer, a text for many a homily of old,--a topic for us now.
And what does it teach so much as this: that Christianity, like Christ himself, ever strives to make the spectator feel that he is seen and is followed home? Religion at home is the lesson, religion as a check upon personal domestic feelings, and the life of domestic graces.
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There is force in the point of view thus presented in the change of the critic into the subject of criticism. Christianity is apt to be regarded as a public ceremonial, a holiday spectacle, associated with fair weather and large assemblies. People respect its institutions, and desire the influence of them upon themselves and their families, are glad to be impressed by any peculiar eloquence, and instructed by any peculiar wisdom. But are they ready enough to take the attitude that becomes them in view of the appeals of religion? Do they listen to the Gospel as to the voice of God speaking to them personally; and beyond the church and ministry, do they recognize the Providential power that has founded these institutions, and which condescends to act through them? Is there not sometimes a reversal of the true point of view? Instead of reverence in the sanctuary, is there not superciliousness? Are there not many, who seem never to have thought of bowing their heads in devotion, who have learned to wag them with the airs of supercilious criticism? Are there not many who are pushed up far higher in conscious elevation, than the publican's sycamore tree; who need to hear the voice of the Master speaking from his Gospel and Church, "Come down, make haste, for to-day I must abide in thy house?"
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"Thy house!"--still nearer the appeal is brought by this expression. "Thy house!" "I will go home with thee," says the Master always in his Word, and his search-warrant has never lost its power. There is something in every heart that shrinks from public gaze, and every family justly cherishes the privacy of the household. But God, if he sees us any where, sees us there, and we reverence Him, as we receive His Word as our household guest. There can be no serious faith or purpose until we come to this, and are ready to take religion home with us. It will very likely show things in a new, and sometimes startling light. We may, perhaps, pass a tolerably creditable examination, when tested by our manner in street, or church, or general society. Sometimes the deference of good breeding may wear the look of inherent kindness, and refinement of address may seem like spirituality of character. It was a severer trial for the publican, "To-day I must abide with thee," than the mere summons to "Make haste, and come down."
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It is a trial that we must all undergo the moment we begin to think seriously for ourselves; a trial, too, that cannot be shunned without losing the best blessings of life. Let the household be examined according to the standard, which we do honestly regard as reasonable and religious. What are the household gods? We have not, like the Romans, the custom of setting up images in our homes, and keeping a votive flame always burning before them. Yet the sentiment which the Roman custom expressed, we must in some way entertain. Every household has its idols, the emblems of its faith or infidelity. It has many associations peculiar to itself, and makes its own choice moreover among the associations that prevail in the neighborhood, or world, or age. It has its own Manes, or its especial remembrances of the departed;--it has its Lares, or favorite family standards;--it has its Penates, or its own selection from the idols or authorities of the people. These influences exist in the highest home and in the humblest--are to be traced in the old nobilities, whose caste, party, and creed, are fixed by the allegiance of a thousand years, and in the unpretending villager who thinks himself highly favored in ancient lore, as he reads in his family Bible the name and birth of his grandfather. Nor are the same influences wholly wanting to those who wish to repudiate their ancestry, the spendthrift upstarts of fortune, whose crest, manufactured to order, is but an attempt to hide the only honorable fact in the family history, that one ancestor was a plain, industrious man, with energy enough to earn by his trade the wealth that heirs squander in folly. Generally, it needs little antiquarian study to learn the ruling genius of the house. It is not only in the house of Atreus or Oedipus, or in the line of the Stuarts and the Bourbons, that family griefs have their succession, and a thread of tragedy runs through their whole history. Every family is troubled with its besetting sorrows and sins. No man is wise until he understands his own pedigree, and interprets himself, not simply as an isolated fact in the world, but as a branch of the life-tree upon which he grew. If reflection does not inform the family of its peculiar traits, experience will not fail to make the revelation. The idle chat of the house will often exhibit the ruling spirit, and the prattle of many a lisping child betrays the idols that he has been trained to honor. Some names of folly or wisdom most frequent on the lips alike of parents and children, will be the household words that show the spirit that predominates. These names, and all attendant influences, are to be judged by their bearing on the true aims of home. Ask a few plain questions as the Master asks in the appeals of his religion.
Does content live with us, or its opposite, discontent? The question cannot be answered by any general considerations of fortune or position. Surely discontent is found in the most extreme cases, and wealth feels often very poor and limited because its desires rise with its means, and its means may be distanced far by some more successful aspirant to fortune. Discontent, ready guest of heart and home always, but never more frequent than among us with whom plenty so swells desire, and competition so quickens rivalry! With us, alas, too frequent guest, impoverishing abundance by inordinate desires, and burdening too many with cares and anxieties beyond reason and beyond strength! Often sad effect of our luxurious civilization, that in apparently the greater number of households, property brings new forms of want, and the demands of ostentation become more rapacious than the natural appetites! How many need now and always to lower their vain pride, and dignify their mediocrity or consecrate their affluence by hearing the Master's voice "Come down: to-day I must abide in thy house."
In some especial form the spirit of discontent is apt to tempt every household, in view of some especial want, or vanity, or ambition. With it, too, come some elements of strife, or indifference, or worldliness, that need peculiar watching. Domestic life, indeed, is sacred from prying curiosity, and it argues generally little to one's credit, to be very accurately posted up in the accounts of home troubles. Without playing the part of the busybody, we may study the facts of human nature, and be aware of the developments of society. We may believe, that where several wills are brought together, they can harmonize only as they agree by appealing to a common standard; that no tempers, however pliant, can accord without mutual principle; that none in authority can govern others without first governing themselves; that a Christian spirit, earnest, kindly, devoted, is the only safeguard of the peace and elevation of the home.
What to many seems the very genius of household comfort, an easy, pleasant worldliness, is a wretched dependence, and will serve one very little in bearing up against the trials of affliction, or the dangers of prosperity. Worldliness may furnish a house, but it needs more, far more, to make a home. Too often the very spirit that prides itself upon crowding the house with magnificence, robs it of every true home grace. Whatever may be the show of hospitality, there is no good cheer for an earnest heart, nothing that returns the Christian benediction, "Peace be with this house." Too often what is called by eminence, "society," has not one truly social element. We read that some years ago, when the button-makers of England were in distress, the Court relieved them at once by directing four extra buttons to be added to the coat tails of approved mode. A refined traveller from France, Germany, or even England, might suppose that most of our city society had originated in some such benevolent purpose, and our usual style of party giving had its origin in a movement for the relief of confectioners, dancing-masters, dressmakers, and liquor dealers, so monstrous is our outlay of money in their line, and so feeble our sense of artistic beauty and conversational zest. No less a guest than he who went with the Publican is needed to give the true grace, and as Christ has been reverently and affectionately received, homes have abounded. There was far more of favor than rebuke in the offer then made, and so it has always proved, whenever and however accepted.
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What is it to take the Master home with us, but to receive the most tender and intimate revelation of God's love ever granted to men,--a searching judge, an honest censor indeed, but more than this, a compassionate friend, a heavenly comforter? Receive him thus, and the whole tone of life rises. Discontent, strife, worldliness, are rebuked. The dwelling then rests upon the Rock of Ages, the light of heaven comes mingled with the sunshine, and divine nurture goes with the daily bread and the vital air. A Supreme will being recognized, all refractory desires are checked and finally subdued into the subjection which is perfect freedom. All the while a reserve power is preparing for the emergencies that may arise. Then man proves his best dignity by adorning strength with gentleness. The woman rises to her true power by the magic touch of that confiding faith, which ever wins divine virtue from the Master's mantle, even as for the lowly suppliant at Capernaum.
Limitation of means is borne with equanimity, and developes new energies instead of breaking down the spirits. Enlarged fortune widens the sphere of beneficence, and repeats the Publican's vow in some way: "Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have taken any thing from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold." New jubilee of justice and generosity would it not be, if true guidance of the households of Christendom could train desires and purposes, such as sprung up in that man's heart whilst Jesus of Nazareth dwelt in his home. We know not all that transpired in the interview between this kindly host, and his Divine guest; but the conclusion leads us to believe that the conversation turned less upon the forms of ceremony and degrees of belief, than upon practical righteousness, such as appeared impressed so mightily upon the heart of Zaccheus in making his declaration of the worth of justice and mercy. How many households would at once stop their folly and extravagance, and open their eyes to the solemn realities of life, if the Divine guest were to be sought in such a spirit.
As to the precise form in which Christianity should be acknowledged in the family, we do not propose to lay down any minute, much less any arbitrary rules. The great thing is to cherish a sense of God's presence, and providence, and rule the spirit in the piety and charity which he approves. The stated recognition of his authority we urge ever, and the desirableness of regular use of the scriptures, and prayer daily in the home. If there be fear of routine and indifference, let a true purpose overcome that, and prove that the most thorough habit comports with, nay favors, the highest freedom, and the soul, like the body, is not shackled by an accustomed method of nurture. Of course, no round of ceremonials can be any substitute for living religion; and there is proof enough, that the most rigid routine of lip service may co-exist with the utmost asperity and worldliness. Tokens, alas, there are sometimes, that what passes for piety may bring no Christian graces to the dwelling; and some bigot, who mistakes hatred of the world for godliness, or some flaunting modist, who has adopted a church as a fashion, may bring churlishness or conceit in sheep's clothing into the house. These, and all such shams, make true religion more beautiful, and lend new attraction to the page which records the visit of Christ to a dwelling which the scowling Pharisee scorned, but which the love of God so richly blessed.
Then let the Master be welcome to the household. We cannot do without him. We need him to keep us in God and with one another. Let the atmosphere of the home have the fragrance of his heavenly spirit. It was one of the trials of the early Christians, that they could not live in pagan households without being constantly pained by symbols and usages hostile to their faith. The Greek or Roman wife, if converted to the Gospel, was scandalized by the idols on the hearth-stone, and often brought to death for refusing to join in the idolatry; whilst in the camp and court, paganism was constantly thrusting its pageants upon the follower of the cross. Our modern life is not much troubled with many such tests of faith, and most of our more showy households are utterly innocent of any signs either of Christian or Pagan import in their furniture. From what is seen in some parlors, whether in books or periodicals, or in pictures or statues, we might infer the fondness of the dwellers, now for the battle or the chase; now for the shows of fashion, or the haunts of dissipation; now for the wonders of science and art; now for the shipping interest and the stock market. But too rarely does the household have a true and expressive representation of the ideas most precious to a Christian mind. An ostentatious vulgarity is too much the rule in constructing and adorning the dwelling, and a Christian taste is the exception. How many of our showy dwellings, instead of impressing a cultivated foreigner with a sense of the owner's refinement or spirituality, would only make it clear that the owner had money in plenty to spend, and knew not how to spend it wisely. Let these things be looked to. Let the economy of the household be of itself a confession of faith. Let there he something to show that they who dwell here are God's children, and live within his kingdom. Let not gold be lavished upon unmeaning articles that show rather the capacity of expense than the capacity of meditation, or which, like the mirrors that are the chief ornament of so many houses, favor no reflection beyond that of the vanity which they multiply. If we care for art, let Christian art be not slighted, and with the landscape that portrays the beauty or grandeur of creation, let there be some expressive token that the Father has watched over men by his Providence, and blessed their homes by his Word. We are changing people, almost a nomad race. One of the oldest inhabitants of this metropolis lately remarked, that within his knowledge, not one man now keeps house in the dwelling occupied by his father. Of this fact I know nothing, yet sure it is, that we need in the frequent change of abodes, to build more deeply and securely the spiritual home, and live more among the memorials of things eternal. In the absence of ancestral homesteads with their hallowed scenes and memorials, we should seek to transmit some lasting tokens of our mind, and not make our households as evanescent in their array as the fickle breath of this world's fashions. In some way surely our best thoughts and labor should live for those who come after us, and with goods few or many, as may be, there should go some witness of truth eternal. Alike from our common nature and our peculiar vicissitudes, we need to be deeply grounded in the love of Him who came to open heavenly mansions into our earthly habitations, and to make Him our abiding guest.
Looking into the ancient books of devotion, I find this date associated with a household name, and sacred to the memory of a Christian woman, Monica, the mother of Augustine. Such thoughts of home and its best influences are well, coming to us, as they do, so fragrant with the friendly and pious affections of ages. Monica lived long enough to see her wayward boy a firm disciple at last, and after all his wanderings of thought, devoted to Christ with all the enthusiasm of his nature. How touching is that passage of his confessions in which he speaks of laying her body in the grave, and returning to his lonely home to bless her for her faithful care, and lament his blindness to her gentle pleadings. How comforting the hymn of Ambrose that rose to his mind, as if by some angel's whisper, and lifted his thoughts to the realm whither mother and son had trusted to meet in a companionship beyond parting and beyond tears. Bless this and all like remembrances in former times, or in our own experience. Praise God for all the peace and power, the loveliness and wisdom, that have entered the homes where Christ has been welcomed. Let praise continue in prayer, and live in watching and good works.
First of May.
[The end]
Samuel Osgood's essay: Divine Guest
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