A certain Levite and his concubine were traveling through the land of Benjamin, and as night approached they sought and received shelter in the home of an old man of Gibeah. But when the house was beset by certain “sons of Belial”, evoking unpleasant memories of the Sodomites (Gen. 19), they realized how unsafe they were. This Levite allowed his concubine to be abused by the Benjamites — a circumstance which speaks not much better of him than of those who threatened him.

Finding the woman dead in the morning, he took her body and divided it into twelve pieces and sent the pieces into all parts of Israel. Then all the children of Israel were gathered together “as one man” (20:1,8,11) out of revulsion at this hideous crime. By a comparison with 1 Samuel 11:7 we see that the people did not so act again in unison until the days of Samuel, probably 300 years later.

But their unity of action was unfortunately not preceded by consultation with God. The militia of the eleven tribes, minus Benjamin — 400,000 strong — made their plans without prayer. Though they finally asked of God who should go up first to the battle, yet their forces lost 22,000 men at the hands of the men of Benjamin, who defended Gibeah. This certainly implies that guilt in Israel was to be found on both sides, not only with Benjamin.

By various stratagems that need not be detailed now, the tribe of Benjamin was nearly annihilated. Once bloodshed started no one knew when to stop. In cutting off those who were guilty by their association, the rest of Israel used highly unsuitable methods and almost totally destroyed one of the twelve tribes. The punishment, because of haste and probably a measure of self-righteousness, was out of all proportion to the crime. In their zeal the men of Israel imposed by an oath a strict isolation upon those few Benjamites who remained, no matter what their degree of guilt or complicity.

The outcome was a terrible feeling of remorse, and some ironic words:

“O Lord God of Israel, why is this come to pass in Israel, that there should be today one tribe lacking in Israel?” (21:3).

The fault was their own, in going too far in their zeal for purity, and the decimation of Israel, on both sides, was their punishment. Finally the leaders of this bitter civil war realized that they had indeed overstepped the bounds of reason. They now took some distinctly unusual steps, involving reprisals and kidnappings, to remedy, insofar as possible, the problem.

By these events the whole nation was disciplined and humbled and made to remember their essential unity as a nation, a unity that even extreme sins on the part of some should not be allowed to violate. Human nature has not changed from that day to this, and we often act still as though there is “no king in Israel”. We need as a brotherhood to remember that each of us shares in the same inheritance (21:17), and that we must with care and patience remove the defects of the body. Otherwise, the sword we lift up against our brethren may do irreparable harm to the whole house of Israel.

Surely, in our quest for deeper understanding of the man Jesus and his message, something is to be learned from the people with whom he frequently came in contact. It is fair to say that these were not usually such as would have graced the finer synagogues of his day; nor, we might add, would their modern counterparts be immediately welcome in many of our ecclesial halls. This comes across rather impressively in catalogue form:

(1) Lepers: “And there came a leper to him, beseeching him and kneeling down to him….’If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean’ ” (Mark 1:40).

“The leper, in accord with the strict conditions of the law, should not have been so close. With torn garments and disheveled hair he should have gone around crying ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ (Lev. 13:44,45), and he should have dwelt alone. The stern requirements of hygiene caused the Israelites to deny their camp in the wilderness to those in this condition (Num. 5:2). That the man came so close is a mark, not of callous dis- regard of the law, but of the supreme confidence which knew that he would do no injury to the Lord, while the Lord could, if he would, confer cleansing on him. Jesus, on his part, accepted the position without embarrassment, and acted with the same assurance. To touch a leper was to contract defilement; but for the Lord to do so was to bring cleansing without himself suffering any harm” (A.D. Norris, The Gospel of Mark, p. 21).

(2) The Samaritan woman and her neighbors (John 4:1-42): Even the woman at the well recognized that the Jews customarily had no dealings with the Samaritans (v. 9). To the legalistically devout this was all too literally true; the gospel record finds an exact parallel in the well-reported sayings of the rabbis: “May I never set eyes on a Samaritan!” or “May I never be thrown into company with him!” It was said that to partake of their bread was like eating swine’s flesh (A. Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, Vol. 1, p. 401). Most Israelites, in traveling between Judea and Galilee, went miles out of their way, circling through Perea, to avoid traversing the loathsome land of Samaria. How this gives weight by contrast to the statement of John, that Jesus “must needs go through Samaria” (v. 4). Not only did Jesus disregard the traditional proscriptions of the land of the Samaritans, but also it was necessary that he go there! And necessary that he wait at the well, and necessary that he ask drink of the woman (unthinkable to a Pharisee), and necessary that he remain in their city two days (v. 40) to bring to their thirsty lips the true water of life.

(3) The infirm man at the pool of Bethesda (John 5:1-9):

“High on the hill of Zion the immaculately robed priests observed the temple ritual, aloof and impersonal. In the shadows of its walls the halt, the blind and the withered waited for the movement of the water” (M. Purkis, A Life of Jesus, pp. 86,87).

Among them was a certain man with an infirmity of 38 years’ duration (v. 5). By the law such a man, if a descendant of Aaron, would be prohibited from all official duties (Lev. 21:17-23). Extreme body blemishes would exclude any Israelite from the congregation of the Lord (Deut. 23:1). And so the “pure and undefiled” of Israel went their way to the Temple services, oblivious of the poor, suffering scraps of humanity who clung superstitiously to the hope of healing at the pool. Where did the Master’s steps turn, upward to the beautiful ritualized service of Herod’s house, or downward to the miserable exiles of Bethesda? The true scene of his ministry was not among the subtle analysts of the law but in the midst of suffering, diseased, afflicted mankind, those who needed a redeemer.

(4) The harlot, “a woman in the city, which was a sinner” (Luke 7:37): So astounding was Jesus’ acceptance of this harlot’s approach and service, that his host Simon the Pharisee thought surely he could not be a prophet or else he would push her away and revile her for her sins (v. 39). He knew so little of the spirit of the Saviour! Do we know more?

(5) The lunatic (Mark 5:1-21; Matt. 8:28-34; Luke 8:26-40): Christ and his disciples came to the shore at Gergesa, on the east side of the Sea of Galilee, in Decapolis. And there met them out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. Here was a man expelled from all society by his condition (insanity), his appearance (nakedness), and his abode (the tombs). Yet Jesus approached him, spoke to him, even bearing with his fantasies, healed him, and gave him of his own garments (an unproven suggestion, but quite probable, and filled with wonderful typical significance)! So impressed, however, were those of the neighborhood that they begged him to leave (Mark 5:17); a man who consorted with such men as “Legion” could certainly be no friend of theirs.

(6) The woman with the issue of blood (Mark 5:25-34): Here was another condition which, like leprosy, rendered the sufferer unclean (Lev. 15:19-30). As Jesus went on his way, she pushed her timid way through the crowd: “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.” This was the reverse of the legal restriction, which should have been: ‘If I touch his garment, he will be unclean also.’ How great was her faith! She knew what manner of man Jesus was: a man who could touch the unclean, and yet remain pure; a man whose law superseded that of Moses; a man to whom mental impurity was far worse than legal defilement.

(7) Gentiles: Of several examples, we note here the case of the Syrophoenician woman (Mark 7:25,26; Matt. 15:21-28). Coming on the heels of the Lord’s discourse about the true source of defilement (Mark 7:1-23; Matt. 15:1-20), and in disregard for the traditions of the elders, this incident in which Jesus heals the daughter of the Gentile woman thus carries extra significance. Though the woman was not a Jew, her faith exceeded by far that of Jesus’ countrymen. As in the other cases we have noted, an external condition of separation was of no consequence to him who came to save the “world” and to call sinners to repentance.

(8) Publicans: Two of this hated class figure prominently in the gospels: Zaccheus, “chief among the publicans” (Luke 19:2), and one of the twelve, Matthew (Matt. 10:3; Luke 5:27). These servants of the Roman oppressors were held in such low esteem generally that the word “publican” had become practically synonymous with “sinner” (Matt. 9:11; Mark 2:16; Luke 5:30). Yet Jesus found friends among this class; perhaps some real-life publican was the model for the Lord’s account of contrasting prayer styles, for the admonition of those who “trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others” (Luke 18:9-14).

On the opposite side, we have the rabbinical attitude toward the publicans: They were excluded from being judges and witnesses in legal affairs. They were seen as a criminal race, to which Leviticus 20:5 applied (about those who committed “whoredom with Molech”). It was said that there never was a family which numbered a tax-collector in which all did not become such. And they were seen as so evil that it was permissible for the righteous to lie to them to protect their property from taxation (Edersheim, op. cit., p. 516).

(9) The dead (Mark 5:35-43; John 11:1-46; Luke 7:14): Here was the ultimate defilement, the dead body (Lev. 21:1; 22:4; Num. 5:2; 9:6,10); even from this Christ did not shrink. We know he could raise the dead by a word, as he did with Lazarus. But he did not hesitate to take the dead daughter of Jairus by the hand (Mark 5:41). His was the “personal touch” of sincere love. As always, it seems, the consequences of legal “uncleanness” were ignored as irrelevant beside the greater issues of his ministry. The Lord of life came near to death, partaking of mortality, bearing the burdens of those who grieved and the curse of the law, “tasting death” on behalf of all men.

By contrast with all of the above, we find the Lord, so kind and gentle on most occasions, becoming openly aggressive in censuring the moral defilement of those who were most scrupulous to avoid legal defilement. Surely, we are tempted to think, this very “religious” (even if misguided) class deserved more diplomatic treatment at his hands. But no figure of speech was too drastic for Christ to use: They were whited sepulchres, full of dead men’s bones (Matt. 23:27,28; Luke 11:44); cups clean on the outside, but filled with extortion and rapacity (Matt. 23:25; Luke 11:39). The reason? It may be said there are many, for the list of charges against the Pharisees is long and varied (Matt. 23:3-7,16-18,25-29,34), but certainly one reason is this: that it is dangerous to find satisfaction in any physical separation from “defilement”. “I thank thee, God, that I am not as other men” (Luke 18:11) is no basis on which to build one’s faith.

To go about preoccupied with the “sins” of others, ever mindful of how their shortcomings may reflect upon us by association, is to fight a “paper tiger”, while the true enemy goes free. “Let a man examine himself” (1 Cor. 11:28). Those things which are outside the man cannot defile him, but that which comes out of the man, from a self-righteous heart, defiles the man (Mark 7:18,20).

Brethren, how far are we really removed from the foolish prejudices and traditions of the Pharisees? Have we altogether reversed Christ’s standards, downplaying his emphasis on moral defilement — in a slow drift into the world’s thinking — and seeking to cover our inadequacies by an undue concern for legal “defilement”? We vicariously associate, through television and other media, with the worst the “world” has to offer by way of movie “stars”, sports “heroes”, and rock musicians; and, unconsciously perhaps, we absorb the spirit of this licentious and materialistic age. Then we dress in our finest clothes and drive our new automobiles to places of worship on Sunday morning, where we meticulously draw our “skirts” about us and withhold the Bread and Wine from someone who is just slightly too “sinful” or not quite well enough “informed” for our standards (‘We thank thee, Lord, that we are not like these other men’), and somehow we feel that in this we are doing God service.

We must be careful that the means by which all believers are commanded to remember the Lord’s death until he returns does not become a ritual, with supposed efficacy in the object itself, by which we establish our “purity” in a negative sense. “Negative holiness” can save no man. Neither can the proximity of a “sinner”, even one so close as to partake of the same cup, endanger our “fellowship” with one who was ever and always the friend of “sinners”, who embraced lepers and lunatics, harlots and dead bodies — yet in the best sense was still “holy, harmless, and undefiled” (Heb. 7:26).

Again, we come in our survey to a passage which critics of our viewpoint would argue has “nothing to do with fellowship”. And in one sense they would be correct. The word itself does not appear at all in the chapter. But the best students of the Bible must agree that, in the close study of any divine subject, the more broadly based our conclusions are, the better. The All-wise Father does not teach His children by simple assertion only; if He did, then our Bible would need be no more lengthy than our Statement of Faith. But He teaches us also by type, parable, history, prophecy, and example. Foremost among the examples given for our instruction is His only-begotten Son. The example of Christ’s sacrificial life, culminating in a cruel, lingering death, speaks volumes to the reflective soul concerning “fellowship”. We might even say that “fellowship” is the main theme of Isaiah 53, for it tells us of Christ’s sharing, his partaking of our infirmities.

Isaiah 53 is a mountain peak of God’s Word. I will not attempt an exhaustive, or even a brief exposition of the chapter as a whole. This has been done very ably by others, and their efforts will be well-known to most. Let us simply consider the chapter as it relates to our fellowship experiences and responsibilities, as a moral issue and not a “theological” one (in the common sense of the word).

No man of faith can stand before the cross. It is perpetually holy ground — this mysterious place of meeting between God and man. The perceptive disciple approaches the mercy seat on his knees; he finds there no place to display his own strength or wisdom or cleverness. All the qualities that develop pride in natural man are driven from him further and further with each blow of the hammer upon the Roman spikes. As his awareness deepens, he must finally acknowledge that the cross of Christ has become, not a set of logical premises to be thrown back and forth in legalistic debate, but rather a moral mandate. As the rising of the sun drives away the darkness and creates each day a new world, God’s love for man as demonstrated in Christ’s death and resurrection forever changes the spiritual landscape for the believer. Every issue of his life must now be viewed in the peculiar divine glow emanating from Golgotha.

And thus our fellowship, with the Father and the Son and with one another, is seen against the background of Christ’s sacrifice. Here is the practical expression of his fellowship with us, his brethren. This should be our example of action toward one another.

To those of us who have been accustomed to read Isaiah 53 as related only to the last day or so of our Savior’s mortal life, the quotation in Matthew 8:16,17 comes as quite a surprise:

“When the evening was come, they brought unto him many demoniacs…. and he healed all that were sick: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying, ‘He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.’ ”

Surely these verses are telling us that Christ’s sympathy for poor suffering humanity was an intensely personal feeling. We can imagine no stronger words to convey the closeness, the unity, the fellowship of suffering. Here is no theoretical transferal of guilt or sin-effect; there is no ritual, no ceremony about it — it is real, as real as it can be! This man was one of us. He stood before the tomb of a friend and shed real tears. Our weaknesses were his… are his still, this high priest who was touched so deeply with the sensation of our infirmities, and who carried it with him into the most holy place. For our griefs are his, our sorrows also. For us he was willing to die; for us, finally and conclusively, he did die. And not just for “us” as a whole or a concept or an abstraction, but… this is the real wonder…. he died for each one of us! Had there been only one sinner, Christ would have still been willing to die. When each of us stands before the judgment seat, he will be looking into the eyes of a man who gave his life, personally and individually, for him.

Yes, it truly is a marvel: The Savior of mankind suffered for sinners. For the man who blasphemed God’s Holy Name, Christ spent sleepless nights in prayer. For the man who coveted, and even took, his neighbor’s wife, Christ denied himself all fleshly indulgences. For the man who in hot anger or cold hatred slew his brother, Christ bore the Roman scourge that tore his flesh and exposed his bones and nerves. And for us, “righteous” as we might be in the ordinary “middle-of-the-road” sense, but sinners at heart if we would but admit it, consumed with petty jealousies and grumblings, unthankful, lazy, and often indifferent — yes, for people like us — Christ, the holiest of all men, groaned and bled and died.

What does it really mean, to bear the griefs and sorrows of another? As exemplified in Christ, it was more, much more, than a mechanical “burden-bearing”. It was a “living sacrifice”, a way of life that denied the lusts of the flesh within himself, while at the same time loving and striving continuously for the well-being of his brethren who could not, or did not, so deny themselves. And when they failed, and failed miserably, he bore with their failures and never gave way to “righteous”, condemning anger — but only expressed sorrow and gentle rebuke. Was there ever such a man? “For even Christ pleased not himself” (Rom. 15:3).

“The Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all.” “He was wounded for our transgressions.” Here again we Christadelphians so quickly lapse into the “technical” aspects (the word here almost seems sacrilegious) of Christ’s sacrifice. We carefully point out that Christ did not bear the guilt of our sins, and that he did not die in our stead. And there is nothing wrong with saying such things, in their proper place. But, is it not possible that we are missing the main point? Call it what you will, hedge it about with exceptions and careful definitions, when all is said and done, HE DID DIE — and that is the important issue!

Let us be careful here; let us examine ourselves. In our zeal for “truth”, are we so caught up in the theory that the fact is almost ignored? Do we suppose that when we have explained, in man’s imperfect language, why Christ died, on a legal basis — that our conception of the cross is complete? No, brethren. This man died because he loved to the uttermost his brethren. Here is the lesson. Christ’s way of life, the “fellowship” he practiced in regular interaction with his brethren, is the challenge to us. Do we perceive that love as an impossible theory — or as a reality, to be reproduced and practiced by us, here and now? Our Savior calls us, he commands us, he entreats us, insofar as we can, to do as he did. He sets before us an ecclesial life of difficulties, of sorrows, of problems — and he tells us: ‘Bear the infirmities, even the iniquities of your brethren. I died for them; you must live for them. I did not please myself; neither should you. They are all worth saving, they are all worth loving, they are all worth your sacrifices and prayers — or else none of you are worth it! If you really believe in my love, then you must believe that your ecclesial problems can be solved — and that love is the key to their solution.’

We break bread and drink wine as a memorial of our fellowship with God through Christ. We do not earn this right; it is a profound privilege and a gift, earned by the sufferings of Christ. It is given freely to sinners, if they will only believe. A fine record of outstanding accomplishment, accompanied by perfect purity of doctrine (remember our “brother” the Pharisee who prayed in the temple!), will not earn us eternal life. The spirit that compasses sea and land to bring division between brethren of Christ for the smallest hint of a cause will not earn eternal life, no matter how zealously exercised that spirit is!

“He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Mic. 6:8).

Many critics do not regard these verses as authentic, but despite all the official doubts there are voices to be heard in their favor. Strong arguments have been advanced on both internal and external grounds, which are summarized elsewhere (John Carter, The Gospel of John, pp. 100,101; C.C. Walker, “The Woman Taken in Adultery”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 70, No. 831 — Sept. 1933 — pp. 405,406). The words of Jesus reported therein ring true and consistent both with the immediate context and the more general teachings of his ministry.

Jesus was teaching in the temple precincts one morning when a band of scribes and Pharisees thrust themselves through the crowd, dragging with them a terrified woman, whom they flung at the Master’s feet. They reminded him of the law of Moses, requiring stoning for the offence of adultery, and also that this woman was apprehended in the very act. What does this new Rabbi have to say? Will he agree with Moses or, as rumored by those who have heard his teaching, will he throw over the revered traditions and laws of the fathers? It is Jesus, not the woman, who is on trial this day; how will he respond?

The first reaction of Jesus was to stoop down and write on the ground, apparently indifferent to their demands. But his crafty enemies were not to be ignored or put off; they pressed him again and again for an answer. But the answer they finally received came as a bombshell or, more precisely, as a searchlight from the “Light of the World” (v. 12) to reveal their innermost thoughts, their consciences stained indelibly with sin.

“He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone” (v. 7).

The burden of decision, with its consequent dangers, which these men had sought to thrust upon Jesus, was now placed squarely on their own shoulders. The law specified that the witnesses be the first to lift up the hand in punishment of a convicted sinner. Not only was this so but, by implication from the Law at least, such hands must be innocent of the same offence. It is reported that the first-century Jews, even those most devout for the Law, were notorious in their disregard for the sanctity of marriage, and divorces were granted for the most trivial of reasons. The Mosaic law in this regard had long fallen into disuse, and such punishments as they argued for here were no longer meted out. In fact, they would have been prohibited by the Romans at any rate.

Jesus put a sword with two edges in the hands of the woman’s accusers; should they lift it up against the adulteress they would also cut down themselves. That “first stone” is not in the world yet, if Christ’s condition be required. Only one man could have cast that stone, but he chose not to do so. The Light of the World had come, and his light shone in the darkness. Assuredly that penetrating light would reveal many works of darkness, no less the Pharisee’s subtlety and hatred than the woman’s immorality. But Jesus had come to offer life; the pronouncement of death for those who reject his offer was yet in the future.

He stood up and searched the faces of these rulers of Israel who had stooped so low. His eyes burned into them and they felt the disapproval of this man’s perfect holiness. Then he bowed again to write upon the ground. He had not accused them, but had left them to decide. They watched him as he wrote, conscious that at any moment he could stand up again to challenge any one of them, and they would have no defense. Silently, each man in turn confessed his own guilt by departing, “beginning at the eldest, even unto the last” (v. 9).

“That last phrase is an interesting one….The older we get the more experienced we become, and the more conscious we are of the scope and content of sin. Often when we read and hear of the sins of others we are conscious that our guilt is as great as theirs. For us, circumstance has not provided the occasion for the ‘very act’, or in the case of some has even provided a cloak for sin. So, with the scribes and Pharisees, it was the older and more experienced, the Gamaliels, who first turned away, and it was the young Zealots, the Sauls amongst them, who finally bowed their heads and left” (A. Ashton, “Neither Do I Condemn Thee”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 105, No. 1248 — June 1968 — p. 247).

Now, finally, Jesus stood again. The crowd, transfixed by the spectacle, remained awaiting an outcome. The poor bedraggled woman, her shame revealed to all, was still there where her accusers had cast her. But they were gone. Jesus now fixes his stare upon her. “Is there no man here to condemn thee?” They had all faded away as mists at the rising of the sun. “No man, Lord.” No witnesses remained to the crime, none willing to cast “the first stone”. “Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more” (v. 11).

The word for “condemn” here is katakrino, which signifies a formal passing of judgment. It was at this time the sole province of the Sanhedrin, supported and often restricted by the Roman rulers, to pass such judgment. Jesus had recently spoken of the Father committing all judgment to the Son (John 5:22), and it was so. The power was there, both moral and physical, to punish sinners; but the authority had not yet been assumed. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world (easy though it would have been!), but that the world through him might be saved (John 3:17). This was the great message of light and comfort and hope; it is the message we must share with one another and take to the world today. Christ does not condone sin — that lesson is plain from the incident too — but today, this age, is the “day of salvation”, not the “day of condemnation”. Those who persist in sin, with disregard to the holiness of Christ, will meet their fates soon enough without the intervention of their own imperfect brethren.

“This incident has proved invaluable in Christian history. It is a graphic exposition of the Master’s words on the mount, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’ (Matt. 7:1-5). However damning the evidence may be against our brother, if we pause and look into our own hearts, we shall go quietly away and leave him with his Lord. There are times when it becomes necessary to take action, but that action must not be taken because we have condemned our brother. It will be taken in the painful consciousness of our own unworthiness, and with a love which will plead intercession before the Throne of Grace. We shall wait with eagerness for the first signs of penitence so that we can joyfully restore the erring one to the fellowship of the saints” (M. Purkis, A Life of Jesus, p. 235).

“The greatest abhorrence of sin is not necessarily found in the one who is most severe on the sinner. Sinful men wanted to stone the sinful woman. It was the perfect man who saved her. In these days many of the brethren seem to think that if it is admitted that any members have sinned, the only logical course is to withdraw from them, while anyone who has reservations as to the correctness of such severity must be regarded as a partaker of the evil deeds and should be treated in like manner. There is no justification for such ideas in the Bible” (I. Collyer, An Appeal to Christadelphians, p. 5).

An appealing final thought arises in relation to this incident. The adversaries of Christ were insidious, and it is almost certain that secret inquiries had been made into his early life and that the peculiar circumstances of his begettal had been uncovered. This would naturally suggest to the minds of his foes the possibility of illegitimacy. This “secret”, as they saw it, might be exploited to discredit the dangerous teachings of the man. It is possible, then, to see this whole incident as contrived by the Lord’s enemies. The woman was caught in the very act, but where was the man? Perhaps he was even one of the conspirators, who enticed and compromised a betrothed woman (Deut. 22:23,24) only as a pretense for his friends to confront Jesus.

So if Jesus had said, “Yes, let her be stoned”, the retort would have immediately come back: “Then what should be done with your mother?” — for Mary had been a betrothed virgin at the time of his conception (Matt. 1:18,19).

Other such base insinuations, in this very chapter, may be seen in the same light: “Where is thy father?” (John 8:19), and “WE be not born of fornication” [as some are!] (v. 41).

Let us leave this account then with this final point for meditation. When we are hasty in seeking out “stones” to cast at our brethren, let us remember that many men have been unjustly accused, and that appearances are often deceiving! (Christ himself died as a “criminal”!) How childishly wrong we can be in our blusterings against the “sins” of others, when we cannot possibly know all the attendant facts. Better to leave such matters to the One who is without sin, the One who can and will judge perfectly when the time comes, and from whose eyes no sin whether open or secret can be hid.

James calls Elijah “a man of life nature with ourselves” (5:17, RSV), and nowhere is this more evident than in Elijah’s confrontation with God on mount Horeb. This austere prophet had just been instrumental in a great victory for the honor of the Lord over Baal, on mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). But from the heights of spiritual exaltation Elijah was plunged into the depths of despair when he realized that his great accomplishments had not softened the heart of Ahab, and had served only to intensify Jezebel’s hatred for himself. Fleeing for his life, and yet in his despondency losing all desire to live, he came into the wilderness, to Horeb (19:8). In a pathetic prayer Elijah reveals that he has given up on Israel, and that he sees himself as the only true believer remaining:

“I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away” (v. 10).

We have all heard such laments as this, generally for much less reason than Elijah’s. In the circumstances we may understand his pessimism, but God saw fit to dispel the mistaken notions that led to his negative state of mind. A contemplation of this incident might also cure the state of mind of any brother who, more or less self-righteously, isolates himself from ‘less worthy’ brethren.

God called Elijah forth from his cave, and paraded before him a tremendous panorama of His power — strong winds, earthquake, and fire. But the Lord was not in these; Elijah saw that something was missing. At last came a still small voice, and Elijah, bracing himself, came out of the cave where he had fled for fear at the previous manifestations. The soft voice had a soothing effect; now at last the frightened prophet felt, when he heard it, the presence of God. Thus was the message driven home to him: God is best known, not in works of judgment, but in the still small voice which calls His people, when properly prepared by adversity, to repentance.

And Elijah was to be that voice!

“Go, return on thy way” (v. 15).

Like Samuel before him, Elijah was carefully taught that wickedness is primarily an affront against God, not against any individual (1 Sam. 8:7); and consequently no man (no matter how “righteous”) has any prerogative to turn his back on his brethren. Elijah must minister to the remnant that remains in Israel; in the midst of gross apostasy he is not to flee in fear, but rather to stand firm for God and provide a rallying point for the sheep of Israel.

“Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him” (v. 18).

How seriously wrong had been Elijah’s estimation that there were no righteous ones remaining in Israel. He had let his despair get the better of his judgment and he had forgotten his responsibility. It was one thing to stand strong against entrenched error on Carmel, but he had not been perceptive enough to see his duty afterward, to strengthen those who remained faithful against the evil in the midst of the nation.

This verse is cited by Paul in his letter to the Romans, with the comment that “God hath not cast away his people” (Rom. 11:2). It is a thought worth remembering for all time: God knows in every age who His “seven thousand” are. In many Scriptural lessons He directs those who would flee in despair from troubles to turn around, to “go, return on thy way”, to find their brethren and strengthen them. Those who would hold firmly to the Truth in the midst of trials must combine their forces, strengthening and building up one another in God’s service, sharing in good times and bad the fellowship of the saints.

Many lessons of a very practical nature might be gleaned from the inspired diary of “the king’s cupbearer” (Neh. 1:11). For the present purposes, however, we shall concentrate on the qualities of character that constituted Nehemiah “a wise masterbuilder” (1 Cor. 3:10) and give us guidelines to do likewise.

Having learned from his brother Hanani (Neh. 1:2) that the wall of Jerusalem was broken down and the gates burned (v. 3), Nehemiah pleaded with Artaxerxes for permission to travel to the land of his fathers to promote a reconstruction program (2:1-8). After a long and rigorous journey he finally arrived at Jerusalem; within only three days, ever the tireless worker, he was up and about on an inspection tour of the city and its fortifications. Nehemiah found many adversaries ready to hinder the work (v. 10), while very few were willing to help in the building.

After viewing the desolations, he called the nobles and the priests together and explained his purpose, and how the king had supported him. They were so impressed that their response was immediate, concerted, and sincere — “Let us rise up and build” (v. 18). The work was well organized by Nehemiah, and construction began without delay.

But it did not go perfectly; the characters of Nehemiah and his brethren, like ours, must be tempered by adversity and hardship. There was opposition from the neighboring Samaritans and Gentiles, who used both guile and physical threats in an attempt to intimidate Nehemiah and impede his work. Most troublesome yet, there were internal dissensions: the Tekoite nobles would not “put their necks to the work” (3:5), and the men of Judah were prophets of pessimism (4:10). But Nehemiah did not despair, or lose hope; he maintained his impressive example and cheerful disposition at all times. It was characteristic of this man (and typical of Christ!) that he prayed for the forgiveness of the sins of the people as though they were his sins too! “We have sinned”, said he, and he was willing to share in the guilt of his nation, his “ecclesia” (1:6,7). The knowledge of the sins of his brethren did not discourage him, nor impel him to disassociate himself from the work, but only to redouble his efforts to bring the nation to repentance and finish their task. His enthusiasm was infectious, and the great work of repairing the wall was completed in only 52 days (6:15), “for the people had a mind to work” (4:6).

“ ‘The people had a mind to work.’ When that is condensed into one word, it spells cooperation. The same idea was expressed by the apostles in such terms as ‘one mind’, ‘like-minded’, and ‘with one accord’. This thought should impress us deeply, because it is the only way possible for an ecclesia to succeed.

“If we do not work together, our love will grow cold; bitterness and evil speaking will be generated, and if this is augmented by the continual agitation of some crotchet which has been developed by our desire to have our own way, the foundations of our ecclesia will disintegrate and the whole structure will collapse. We must be on our guard at all times, and examine our purpose and motives….” (G. Gibson, “The People Had a Mind to Work”, The Berean Christadelphian, Vol. 59, No. 12 — Dec. 1971 — p. 354).

Chapter 3 of Nehemiah enumerates 44 teams who begin work on the wall. Each team is assigned its own portion to build. Did some complain about the quality of their brethren’s work at other stations? Did others grumble because they could not be everywhere and do everything and supervise? Did some sit down and refuse to help?: ‘We just are not sure that we can approve of all the details of this operation.’ In the divine retrospect on the work of Nehemiah, all such petty hindrances and worries are put to one side. “Let us rise up and build” was the mandate; this call to the men of the city did not admit of any paltry quibbles. The work was too great to let personalities and prejudices and pride stand in the way.

It is the same with us as we strive to fortify God’s “city” today. There may be fears without, fightings within; but each brother, each individual ecclesia has pressing responsibilities near to home. Each of us has his portion of the “wall” to build. No matter what we think of our neighbor’s building, or that “shoddy bit of work” way across on the other side, when the True Masterbuilder comes to inspect the work, each of us will be judged on his own portion!

“Every unit of the body must do its part by — ‘….speaking the Truth in love,…growing up into him in all things, who is the head, even Christ: from whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto edifying of itself in love’ (Eph. 4:15,16).

“This is the only formula of a true ecclesia. What we do for our brethren and sisters, is what we do to God. If what we do is dominated by love, all will be well, but if we are not truly motivated by love and kindness in all we say and do, there will be no edification, and no bodily growth, and we will be brought into condemnation, and will never enter the kingdom of God. For, said Jesus,

‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me’ (Matt. 25:40)”

                                                                                                (Ibid., p. 355).

The following is a condensation and revision of the article “Conflict of Loyalties”, by H. Whittaker (The Testimony, Vol. 38, No. 454 — Oct. 1968 — pp. 377-380).

It was the time of the great reformation that the zeal of Hezekiah had set going. The appeal had gone out to all the tribes of Israel, regardless of boundaries or political loyalties, that they come up to Jerusalem to keep the Passover after the manner of their fathers. And although the messengers of the king had met with much derision and contempt, there were also many in the region of Galilee who responded and came with gladness to join in their new surge of godliness.

But there were hindrances of many kinds, with the result that it was not found possible to hold the Feast at the normal time — the fourteenth of the first month. However, the Law of Moses provided for a second celebration a month later (a kind of supplementary Breaking of Bread!) for the benefit of those who were unclean through contact with the dead or who were away on a journey when the proper time came round. Strictly speaking, neither of these “exceptive clauses” applied to these latecomers from the north. Even less were they a valid excuse for the people of Judah and Jerusalem.

Nevertheless the Feast went forward in the second month with zeal and rejoicing. It was not that king or priests or people were ignorant of what the Law lay down. There was no disposition to cover up or evade the technical infringement with any kind of clever argument. Rather, the issue became quite simply this: ‘Is it better for us and more to the honor and glory of God that we keep the Passover with an irregularity of procedure, or that we do not keep it at all this year?’ Faced with this alternative — especially in such circumstances — the proper decision was obvious.

Yet it was not to be denied that some commandment of the Law was infringed. Had they desisted altogether, still the Law said that the Passover must be kept. Had they kept it in the second month, then they were found guilty of appropriating to themselves the concessions of Numbers 9:10 which clearly did not apply in their case. Also, many of those coming from the north were not ceremonially purified to keep the Passover (2 Chron. 30:18). Here the Law was infringed again in unmistakable fashion. Yet the Feast was kept,

“for Hezekiah prayed for them, saying, ‘The good Lord pardon every one that prepareth his heart to seek God, the Lord God of his fathers, though he be not cleansed according to the purification of the sanctuary’, and the Lord hearkened to Hezekiah, and healed the people.”

None would dispute that, infringements and irregularities aside, Hezekiah and the people did the right thing — or, rather, the best thing possible — in the circumstances.

This kind of tension between two conflicting laws and principles of God’s appointing, both of which apply in a given case, is not uncommon. It happened under the Law of Moses, as for example the dilemma of circumcision on the eight day when it chanced to fall on a Sabbath; Jesus entered into several controversies between the traditional interpretations of the Sabbath law and his own greater law of loving service to mankind.

Similar situations are not unusual in the life of the disciple today. If a young Christadelphian is commanded by his unbelieving parents to miss the Breaking of Bread so as to accompany them on a visit to an aged relative, which commandment does he break: “Do this in remembrance of me”, or “Honor thy father and thy mother”?

Is it right to buy some magazine which will further one’s study of the Signs of the Times if this means giving indirect support to some unrighteous cause which that publication happens to advocate?

Should an ecclesia spend thousands of dollars on the purchase of a fine organ to enhance its worship and praise of God if a quarter of its members believe that this money should be devoted instead, say, to the Bible Mission?

We begin to see now the bearing of the foregoing considerations on the vexed question of fellowship. Without any doubt, division and fragmentation arise because brethren resolve in different irreconcilable fashion yet another conflict of principles:

‘Here is the beginning of apostasy,’ says one; ‘I cannot with clear conscience belong to a community which tolerates such denials of truth; no matter what the cost, the Faith must be kept pure.’ And he gathers round him some of like persuasion and goes away to make a fresh, clean start — until the day when a like situation recurs once more, and then the process begins all over again.

Says another: ‘Here is teaching which grieves me very much and which may well show itself ultimately to be destructive of our Faith. I do not like it. I am worried by it. Then I must do all in my power to counteract it. Since my brethren who are in a better position than I to exercise a good influence do nothing about it, ought I not to withdraw for the sake of purity of the Faith? But then, there is also my responsibility to the rest who do not assess the situation as urgently as I do. These sheep, what shall they do? Have I no duty to them, to nurture and guide and warn them?’

Thus the conflict rages in the minds and hearts of faithful men. Undefiled separateness? Or love of the brethren in time of difficulty? This is the great issue. How is it to be resolved? Some have one solution, some another, and the outcome is mutual recrimination and division. Stark tragedy!

What, then, is the right way, and therefore the best way, to resolve this greatest of all spiritual contests for the loyalty of the believer? Whatever decision is reached, it is almost certain that a serious disadvantage will be involved. One evaluation, however, seems quite suitable in facilitating our choice, and this is the test of Jesus: “By their fruits ye shall know them.”

Apply this test, then, to the “purity-at-all-costs” school of thought. What fruits have been gathered from this tree? The largely unchallenged assumption that root-and-branch disfellowship en masse is demanded by the Bible has left a phenomenal trail of Christadelphian wreckage scattered across the past century. Even at the present day several small boats toss on the waves, when united effort to manage one adequate vessel and keep it seaworthy would be an obvious policy of sanity. More than this, an invariable result of every crusade of every secessionist has been a long-sustained campaign of harsh criticism and self-righteous censure against those from whom the separation has been made. “By their fruits ye shall know them!” What a contrast with Daniel who, belonging to a nation hardened in apostasy and riddled with guilt, prayed for them and for himself as though he shared their sin and their condemnation.

So the “separatist” solution has been weighed in the balances and found wanting. But the more “broad-minded” school of thought may also be lacking when “fruits” are considered, for false teachers if allowed to run wild do damage to others as well as themselves, and the lines of demarcation between Truth and Error may become blurred.

Is there an alternative to either of these extremes? As long as an ecclesia holds to a true foundation of faith, that ecclesia should not be abandoned. There may be unfaithfulness latent in any ecclesia, but if the formal basis of fellowship is sound, then as long as faithful brethren exist there, they should continue an unfaltering witness against error. This was the function of the prophets in a decadent Israel, and the counsel of the apostles to ecclesias with doctrinal and moral problems in the first century.

Such an attitude of mind and the solution here proposed can hardly be altogether satisfactory to the out-and-out idealist, but like Hezekiah he must learn to make the best of imperfect situations. The great evils are schism and apathy. Let us shun both, and choose instead the middle road, of loving, careful, unceasing entreaty and witness for truth. If we do this then we have the assurance that Hezekiah had, that God will pardon the failings of those who prepare their hearts to serve Him, even though their service may prove less than perfect.

Having considered in detail the passages most relevant to Biblical fellowship, we now examine those that might be placed under the heading of “Biblical dis-fellowship”. Perhaps we can determine, from a review of both sets, how far we may reasonably go, and where we may reasonably stop, in our demands upon our fellow-believers. These passages are grouped under the heading OBJECTIONS because those who would most object to the general drift of this study to this point would no doubt quote such verses in counter-argument. I feel that these “dis-fellowship” passages have been seriously misused by many Christadelphians. They have been “wrested”, in some cases, out of their quite restricted contexts and made to do duty that the inspired writers never intended. The extent of these misinterpretations will be apparent as we continue.

Many times we read Paul’s question here as we do other Scriptures, without considering that it may have application to ourselves. Mankind always has a tendency to worship itself, a tendency that often manifests itself in the slavish adherence to the dictates of some other man. Even Paul acknowledged and used to good purpose this human tendency — as all good preachers must — when he encouraged these same Corinthian brethren to be imitators of him (11:1, RSV). He was in their presence, he was visible, his words and examples were forceful; and it is true that most men are like sheep looking for a shepherd. But the difference between Paul and some leaders was this: that he always kept Christ in the forefront: ‘Follow me, but only insofar as I follow Christ.’

The apostle must have realized that the tendency to believe and follow that which is visible, to follow other men more readily than an unseen Christ, would lead to serious and far-reaching consequences, and result in believers becoming estranged and the Brotherhood divided. The condition of the Corinthian ecclesia presented an opportunity for the suppression of this tendency in its beginning, and to point a warning for all time. The Corinthians were in a dangerous position: While all professed the name of Christ, a sectarian spirit had definitely risen in their midst, threatening to destroy their unity as a part of the Body of Christ:

“Some boasted in Paul, others in Apollos, others in Cephas, and others in Christ. Hence the question: ‘Is Christ divided?’ The anticipated answer is, of course, ‘NO.’ Yet there must be division. It is Christ who says so: ‘Henceforth there shall be division’ (Luke 12:51-53). ‘But did he mean among the elect of God? No. Is it right among them then? It will not happen among them, brother. The saints are of one mind. But who are they? Leave that. The judgment will decide.’ This last quotation is from the late editor Robert Roberts. The present editor endorses his words absolutely, because, on the most careful study of the New Testament, he believes they breathe the spirit of Christ and Paul” (C.C. Walker, “Is Christ Divided?”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 59, No. 693 — March 1922 — p. 122).

The exhortations of the apostles require us to face the facts, to recognize them, and to act with wisdom. We do not hesitate to invite our unbaptized friends to face the facts of our message to them; should we not follow the same principle of guidance for ourselves? Our answer must be in the affirmative. This matter should be brought home to us in the further question: “Of what body am I a member?” Would not all unhesitatingly answer: “We belong to the Body of Christ”? This is as it should be; but are we prepared to face the fact that in so answering we commit ourselves to a condemnation of the present disrupted state of Christadelphia? Certainly we cannot in reason justify it. Christ is not divided. “Doth not even nature itself teach us” that it is not possible that members of the same physical body can be separated from one another, and the body structure still retain its form and function? As the Creator has designed both the natural body and the spiritual body (His ecclesia), their adaptation to His purpose in their respective unities must necessarily follow His design. Thus should the Brotherhood, notwithstanding the varied character of its membership — young and old, rich and poor, “liberal” and “conservative” — be one body in Christ, in which there should be no schism.

All who are agreed upon the simple first principles of the Faith, and have been truly baptized into the name of Christ, have acknowledged Christ as their “Head”. To be consistent, we should therefore confess that the present condition of Christadelphia proves false our profession. What is the matter? Who is in the wrong? Should not the whole body of believers be unitedly holding to the “head”? The “head”, “from which the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love” (Eph. 4:16)? The apostle Paul in yet another place calls attention to “Christ our life” (Col. 3:4). Can Christ be the “Life” of a mutilated body, whose members are not only severed but also in active opposition to one another?

“ ‘Is Christ divided?’ Paul asked in amazement; that is, did they not realize what their party loyalties in effect signified? — namely, that the unique and glorified Christ could be parcelled out among rival groups as though he were a mere thing and not the sublime being who alone had made them what they were by his sacrificial death on their account! Then, to drive the point home, come two equally decisive questions, ‘Was Paul crucified for you? or were ye baptized in the name of Paul?’ “ (W.F. Barling, The Letters to Corinth, p. 68).

What then is our position as the Body of Christ? Most surely, brethren, we should come together, and in all humility and brotherly love have these matters set right, before the day of opportunity passes forever, so that all who truly belong to Christ may be a united, living band, awaiting his return.

Just think how it would be — speaking of his return — if the Lord were to appear incognito in our midst at this very moment! Would he be received by all portions of the Brotherhood without question, or would there be “righteous” concern that he who is “in fellowship” with one faction cannot be “in fellowship” with another, for fear of “contamination”? Would such “contamination” be feared by the One who while yet in the flesh touched sightless lepers and naked demoniacs and foul corpses?

Let us think of two brethren working side by side, both having been baptized into Christ, and yet they act as if they were strangers to one another. Circumstances have placed them in separate “fellowships”, and they find between them a great gulf not of their own making. The situation is painfully embarrassing and unpleasant. How would it be if the Lord, their Head, were to stand with them one day, his true identity hidden? He converses with them; he finds (for he knew he would find) the knowledge of the Truth, much zeal, and love, on both sides. The Master is pleased, and graciously reveals himself to them. With both joy and regret, and confusion, these two brethren stand in the presence of their Lord. ‘O fools, and slow of heart to truly believe in me… why have you been satisfied with my body divided? Did you really think I would be pleased with such a condition? Now I beseech you, before it is too late, that there be no divisions among you.’

The time to retrace our steps in now! Let us make a special effort, not just lip-service, to this ideal of unity. Let us not be ashamed when Christ does come, that he will say, “I have somewhat against thee.” Rather let us reasonably, prayerfully, conscientiously, and in humility of spirit set ourselves and our house in order, as best we can, before it is too late. Christ must not be divided among us.

In his letter to the Corinthian ecclesia, the apostle Paul attempts to set right several difficult local problems — of which one was the attitude and manner in which the brethren were celebrating the Lord’s Supper. In stating the divine principles concerning the memorial, he exhorts us as well.

“Take, eat; this is my body” (11:24). The words originally spoken by Christ had a two-fold meaning; Paul perceives this and endeavors to pass it along. The bread represented the literal body of Christ, and it represented the spiritual “body” also — those who in sincerity and truth believe and obey Christ’s teachings, which are the “bread of life”. It is certainly no coincidence that the chapter concerning the memorial feast is followed by observations and instructions regarding the many-membered Body consisting of Jews and Gentiles, bond and free, all given one life through Christ their head (1 Cor. 12).

Brethren in this age, just as their forerunners in the first century, when assembled for the solemn meal, should listen for the words of consecration spoken over them, and not just over the literal body, by the One who walks in the midst of the lampstands: “This is my body.”

It follows that the ecclesia cannot properly be the Body of Christ when it is beset by separations, schisms, ill will, and turmoil (11:18,19). How best can such wrongs be avoided? By bearing in mind, as Paul continues, that the bread and wine are taken in remembrance of Christ (vv. 24,25). If everything is centered upon him, then troubles of all sorts will diminish.

And not just in token of Christ’s life, but especially because of Christ’s death, as the passover lamb without blemish (John 1:29), is this meal instituted. “For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come” (1 Cor. 11:26). The “shewing” is a “setting forth”, after the order of the Jewish Passover, a solemn proclamation to all who are in the house, as well as to “the stranger who sojourns with thee” (Exod. 12:48). It is an intensely personal rite — though it may be observed as part of a large group: “This is done because of that which the Lord did unto ME….” (Exod. 13:8).

The personal aspect of the memorial is intertwined with the corporate, just as in the other rite enjoined upon all believers — baptism. True, each has its pluralistic qualities. By the one, a believer enters the Body of Christ; by the other, he regularly reaffirms his standing there. But each rite is essentially an individual one, as was the offering of sacrifice at tabernacle or temple — the closest approach by the single soul to communion and oneness with God, to fellowship of the sufferings of His Son.

Paul stresses that, if each individual believer will fully enter into this spirit of the Lord’s Supper, then the schisms and doubts and disruptions of the Body as a whole will be minimized, perhaps even eliminated. Those who seek to please themselves, whether by self-indulgence (as in Corinth) or self-exaltation (remember the Pharisee who prayed in the temple!), are not truly “looking unto Christ”. What they do, then, they do unworthily, and “are guilty of the body and blood of the Lord” (1 Cor. 11:27). In effect, they have said with the rabble before Pilate’s judgment seat, “We have no king but Caesar, the ‘god of this world’. This man’s blood be upon us!” In short, any partaking of the emblems is an unworthy, or vain, pretense if he who eats and drinks does not always see “Christ crucified” (1:23); that is, if he does not see the reason for his Lord’s crucifixion, which is… his own sins. All this is so “that no flesh should glory in his presence” (v. 29). The memorial meeting is not the time nor the place (is there ever one?) for one sinner to attempt to criticize the lives of his brethren.

A contemplation of one’s own sinfulness and consequent need for redemption is surely sufficient to occupy fully the mind of the saint at the Lord’s Supper. “Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup” (1 Cor. 11:28). Certainly Paul is here alluding to that first supper:

“And as they did eat, he said, ‘Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me.’ And they were exceeding sorrowful, and began every one of them to say unto him, ‘Lord, is it I?’ ” (Matt. 26:21,22).

It is possible still for the disciple to betray his Master. He who falls away from the Truth, who allows the soil of his heart to bear again its natural thorns and briers, is crucifying to himself the Son of God afresh, putting him to an open shame (Heb. 6:6,8). He is treading under foot the holy blood of the covenant (10:29), even as swine heedlessly trample pearls in the mud (Matt. 7:6). It is indeed better for such a one never to have known the way of life than, having known it, to insult and outrage the precious Spirit of grace mediated by Christ. ‘I would never do such a thing,’ is the instinctive reaction. But that is just the point! None of us is immune from just such a falling away; the wolves of the world follow hard behind the flock of Christ, and the stragglers are swiftly torn apart. Christ must speak to each of us, in the bread and wine; his eyes must gaze into ours and turn our vision inward. ‘One of you will betray me.’ ‘Are you speaking of me? Lord, is it I? Give me strength that it be not so. Lord, I am so weak. Let me cling close to you. Purge from me all that offends you, so that I betray you not in thought or deed.’ Surely here is the only correct attitude for each of us who assemble to the memorial meal: all of us together constituting “One Body” but each steadfastly examining himself alone in the light of the Perfect Example. Not “Who is he that would betray Christ?” but instead, “Is it I?”

“The most pressing and urgent lifelong consideration of any who aspire to the kingdom of God must be their own complete personal transformation of character. The realization of this urgent necessity is far too dim among us. This is our foremost ecclesial concern, and the root of most ecclesial problems.

“Any attempt to judge, criticize or regulate the lives and conduct of others — until we have brought ourselves into line with the commandments of God in this respect — is hypocrisy.

“We tend to feel, or at least to act as though we feel, that if we can legislate righteousness upon others, and surround ourselves with the external appearance of a sound ecclesial framework, then our own personal shortcomings will somehow be absorbed, and overlooked, and compensated for, in the general ecclesial strength. We tend very much to get our priorities in this respect completely reversed. Jesus said:

‘Thou hypocrite; first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast the mote out of thy brother’s eye’ (Matt. 7:5).

“We shall find that the more attention and concern we give to our own very numerous shortcomings, the less will be the vehemence of our zeal to condemn our brethren, and the more cautiously, and gently, and Christ-likely shall we approach that task.

“Let us, then, frankly examine our own conduct and characters in the light of the plain, simple commands of Scripture, and see if we are in any position to presume to operate on the eyes of others.

“Let us judge, and suspect, and expose ourselves at least as critically as we so eagerly judge and suspect and expose others. Rather, indeed, let us judge ourselves far more searchingly than we judge others, for this is the prescribed course of Scripture, of wisdom, and of love. The divine command is:

‘Let a man examine…. HIMSELF’ ”

(G.V. Growcott, “Let a Man Examine Himself”, The Berean Christadelphian, Vol. 60, No. 11 — Nov. 1972 — p. 338).

“For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord’s body” (v. 29). Those who look too much at the faults, or supposed faults, of their brethren are in danger of doing this very thing. In looking at others rather than themselves and Christ, they are first of all missing the point of the ordinance, and nullifying in their heedlessness the benefit to themselves of the offering of Christ’s literal body. And in so judging others, they may also be tearing the Lord’s spiritual “body” to pieces. He who cannot discern the Lord’s “body” all around him, who sees his brethren and sisters only as so many potential problems of doctrine and practice, is in danger of cutting himself off from them. His “careful” eating and drinking in solitude will then degenerate into a silly smugness, a self-satisfaction that may remove him from the very benefit he thought was exclusively his. “I thank thee, Lord, that I am not as these other men.” But you are like them, and the sooner you realize it the better!