CHAPTER VII

THE KINGDOM'S METHOD OF DEVELOPMENT

WE recall that two features were brought forward prominently by the Jews in regard to the coming of the Kingdom of God: The hated Roman yoke was to be cast off, and the world's sovereignty transferred from Rome to Israel. This would be brought about by some catastrophe or cataclysm. Hence the inauguration of the Kingdom was popularly conceived as sudden, and its consummation as a matter of a little while.1 Jesus, however, much to the surprise and disgust of the Jews, compared the development of the Kingdom (1) to the growth of a seed in method; (2) to that of a mustard seed in result; and (3) to the fermentation of leaven for the manner of its intensive development.

To the popular conception of the sudden and dazzling advent of the Kingdom and its rapid extension, Jesus, in fact, opposed the vital process of growth. His analogy was that of a seed planted by a gardener, who simply sows his seed, and sleeping by night and working by day, is without worry and appar

1 Traces of this view are often met with in the New Testament. Jesus, asked by the Pharisees, "When the Kingdom of God should come?" replied: "The Kingdom of God cometh not with observation; neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the Kingdom of God is within you," or in the midst of you (St. Lu. 17:20, 21). After the Resurrection, also, the disciples say, "We hoped that it was he which should redeem Israel" (St. Lu. 24:21), having in mind the immediate introduction of the Kingdom. During the forty days also between the Resurrection and the Ascension, the question asked directly by the Apostles was, "Lord, dost thou at this time restore the Kingdom to Israel?" (Acts 1:6). We are surprised to encounter this strange ignorance of the character of the Kingdom at the close of Jesus' ministry, and after His years of teaching and the Apostles' intimate association with Him. It only proves, however, that Jesus' idea of the Kingdom and its method of establishment was "so wholly out of line with the ambitions and expectations of the Jewish people" that only by the greatest effort could they grasp His teaching.

ently indifferent to its fate. Yet, because of the inherent character of the seed, and the inherent nature of the soil, and their mutual adaptability, the seed germinates and grows, the gardener knows not how. "And he said, so is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come" (St. Mk. 4:26-30).

The seed, of course, in this parable is the idea of the Kingdom, or rule of God, and the soil into which this idea is sown is the human heart. Then, because of the mutual fitness of the seed and the soil, the seed germinates and grows. This was novel teaching to the Jews, and it struck a fatal blow at the prevalent opinion. Its significance, indeed, was unmistakable. It meant that the mechanical conception of the development of the Kingdom must give place to the vital. Henceforth growth was the fundamental law. When we recall, however, the inward and spiritual nature of the Kingdom, as it was conceived by Jesus, we appreciate readily the analogy. He taught, and He must necessarily have taught, that the ascendency of God's rule over the heart of man, and over the world of man, would be like the slow and unobserved, but sure, growth of the planted seed. "First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear:" "So is the Kingdom of God."

Further, once planted, the idea of the Kingdom-God's rule being needful to man, and man recognizing the need of God's sovereignty-will grow slowly and quietly, apart from human anxiety. Hence the Kingdom did not demand forcing, as the Jews supposed. No temporal arm of the State upon which to lean was necessary; nor were the favorite methods of the ecclesiastic "in preserving the faith" in vogue with Jesus. Reliance, so far as human effort was concerned, was placed simply upon planting; and this being done, the self-propagating power of truth, in conjunction with the vitalizing power of the human heart, became the active agent. "The earth bringeth forth fruit of herself."

Nothing could have been further, however, from the Jewish

mind than such a conception. The Apocalyptic idea, indeed, has vanished in a moment, and Nature is at hand. Nature, in fact, has become the parable of the Kingdom of God. This substitution, effected so quietly by Jesus, was fraught, however, with vast results for the idea of the Kingdom. It compelled forthwith the entire reconstruction of Jewish thought; it was the rock upon which long-standing hope and expectation was dashed in pieces. How momentous its conclusions were may be gathered from the principles outstanding in the parable. The three fundamental truths derived are: First, that the Kingdom of God has a self-propagating power; second, that it grows silently and unobservedly; and, third, that it has an orderly sequence of growth: the early stages being preparatory to the consummation. The Apostles, strange to relate, even the brilliant and profound Paul, failed to understand this, and we find them, in common with the entire Apostolic Church, looking for the speedy consummation of the Kingdom, as the reader may see from a perusal of the First Epistle to the Thessalonians. Their failure to appreciate the Kingdom's analogy of growth is pardonable, however, in view of their strenuous devotion to the mechanical conception of the Apocalyptic literature.

But the Jews dreamed, also, of the Kingdom's inauguration amidst pomp and splendor, and this expectation was in full accord with human nature, which usually demands that all undertakings of importance shall be launched amid attention and furor. This thought, indeed, was present even to the mind of Jesus in the temptation to cast Himself from the pinnacle of the Temple, as we have seen. It was necessary for Jesus, however, in view of His decision in the Wilderness, to violate at every point the most cherished traditions of the Jews. Hence, He not only likened the development of the Kingdom to the growth of a seed, but selected specifically the mustard seed. This was a very small seed; so small, indeed, that it had furnished a proverbial expression to the Jews. When they desired to signify the minuteness of anything, it was customary to speak of it as being as "small as a grain of mustard seed." Jesus, Himself, seems to have been aware of this usage, if we may judge from His remark that if the disciples had "faith as a grain of mustard seed," nothing would be impossible to them (St. Mt. 17:20). "Another parable put he forth unto them,

saying, The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field; Which indeed is the least of all seeds; but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof" (St. Mt. 13: 31-32; cf. St. Mk. 4:30-32; St. Lu. 13: 18-19).

By this parable Jesus indicated an additional characteristic of the Kingdom of Heaven. The seed, which was the most insignificant of all seeds, grew into the largest of annual garden shrubs. The Mustard Tree was not, properly speaking, a tree, as is sometimes supposed, but a large shrub, such being called trees among Orientals. The plant, indeed, grew with remarkable rapidity, and often attained the height of ten or twelve feet, with widely extending branches, which offered attraction for the passing birds in way of shelter, fest and food; the mustard being a common food for pigeons. Hence it was selected by Jesus to illustrate the noticeably disproportionate result between a beginning and an end, between the tiny seed, so insignificant and unpromising in itself, and the ultimate luxuriant growth.

It is also interesting to observe that a favorite figure adopted among the Biblical writers to illustrate the development of various Oriental kingdoms was that of a growing tree. The reference of Ezekiel 31:3, 9 to the Assyrian kingdom, and of Daniel 4:10, 12, are excellent examples of this tendency. The development of the Kingdom of God itself was also so illustrated (Ez. 17:22, 24; Ps. 80:8). It is noticeable, however, that the figure adopted is always that of a luxuriant vine, a stately cedar, or some imposing tree, such an analogy being alone deemed worthy for the great kingdoms of the earth, or the Kingdom of God. Hence, the comparison of the Kingdom in its beginning and development to the small grain of mustard by Jesus is the more marked.

This analogy, however, served Jesus' purpose admirably. For what beginning could have been more insignificant than the beginning of the Kingdom of God in the person of Jesus of Nazareth? A peasant carpenter of a despised province; poor and unknown until His thirtieth year, when He began to teach; only creating a ripple on the surface of His nation's life; with friends recruited chiefly among the humble, the ignorant, the

outcast, or at most among the middle class, and arousing animosity everywhere, soon or late, instead of making friends, Jesus appeared a poor advocate of any cause, especially of one so important as the Kingdom of God. Finally, with the Cross, it looked, indeed, as though the fiasco was ended. Yet there soon followed the comparatively rapid spread of Christianity throughout the then known world, and the greatness of the results achieved, human society being affected at well-nigh every point, and conditioned in its every aspect. This, however, is the parable of the mustard-seed. The Kingdom of God in one life —and that a seemingly insignificant one-develops into a result out of all proportion to the small beginning.

Thus, Jesus' sole purpose in this parable was to indicate that the beginning of the Kingdom, contrary to all Jewish expectation, would be insignificant and unpromising; that, notwithstanding this, the Kingdom would develop according to its own inherent method, and would be ultimately crowned with a magnificent consummation, ever more and more inducing men to seek its salutary rest, shelter and sustenance. The wide, extending branches of the Mustard Tree would be understood in this sense, in view of the similar use of the Old Testament (Ezek. 17:22-24).

Again, however, Jesus found it necessary to oppose a prominent feature of the current Jewish conception. According to the thought of His day, the Kingdom would be developed by external means. The method would be from the outward to the inward. At the point of the sword, for instance, God's law was to be written upon the hearts of the Gentile world. Through ceremonialism and an elaborate cultus, even the Jew was to be made inwardly righteous. This conception Jesus absolutely and unhesitatingly reversed. "And again he said, Whereunto shall I liken the Kingdom of God? It is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till the whole was leavened" (St. Lu. 13: 20-21; St. Mt. 13:33).

Leaven is used here by Jesus to symbolize "the unseen influence and penetrating power of the Kingdom of Heaven." This use of the word, however, is somewhat singular, inasmuch as in almost all other New Testament passages leaven is used in an evil sense. The words of Plutarch, indeed, reveal the popular idea of leaven in the Ancient world. "Now leaven is itself