A great cry, a piercing cry, raised by hundreds of voices, resounded through the streets of the city and was echoed by the surrounding hills. What could be the matter? What could be the cause for this mournful wail?
There was a great cry in Egypt on that awful night, when there was not a house in which there was not one dead. That was the great cry of terror.
Esau raised a great cry when he found that he had lost his father’s blessing. That was the great cry of disappointment.
There arose a great cry in the council chamber of Jerusalem when the Apostle Paul stood before his judges. That was the cry of conflicting opinion.
But the great cry which was sounding through the streets of Jerusalem was not the cry of terror or of disappointment. The men who joined in it were all of one mind, yet the cry was still bitter and distressing. The shrill voices of women mingled with the deeper ones of men in this cry, and although the cry was one of sorrow and distress, there was a deep undertone of anger and complaining.
Who was crying, and what was the cause of their distress? It was an excited mob of men and women standing in the streets of Jerusalem. Look at them well; surely we know some of their faces. Is it possible that we recognize some of them as the same people whom we saw working so happily and cheerfully on the walls? What a terrible change in their faces!
What was the cause of their distress? What could have happened to move them so deeply? Had the Samaritans returned to attack the city? Were the walls on which they had spent so much labor overturned and laid low in the dust? No, everything seemed peaceful; there was no sound of war in the streets, and there were no enemies waiting in the hills around the city.
The trouble was at home this time. Nehemiah listened to the dismal noise and tried to still the shrill cries, that his voice might be heard. As he watched the people rocking back and forth, as people in some countries do when greatly troubled, he might well have felt downcast and disappointed. A city divided against itself cannot stand, and as Nehemiah listened to the cry, he clearly saw that, at that moment, Jerusalem, the city he loved best on earth, was indeed a divided city.
Who then were these citizens of Jerusalem, these men and women who raised the great cry? They were the poor people of the city. It was a cry of the poor against the rich, a cry like the one raised all over France at the time of the French Revolution: a cry for bread.
Nehemiah listened carefully to the cry and the complaints of the people, and as he did so, he felt sure they were not raised without cause. There was undoubtedly great poverty in the city, and he found that this might be traced to three main causes.
1. The King of Persia had only allowed the returned captives a very small area of country to live in. The rest of the land was filled up by the Samaritans, the Arabians, the Edomites and other nations who had settled in Palestine while the rightful owners were in Babylon. Consequently, as their families increased, the Jews found this narrow strip of country was not sufficient to maintain them, and, as is always the case, overpopulation and overcrowding were followed by great poverty.
2. Then there had evidently been a severe famine which had made matters worse. There were many mouths to feed and barely anything with which to feed them. Palestine is extremely susceptible to famine, for the harvest there is entirely dependent on the rainfall. There are only a few springs; there is no river but the Jordan, and that runs in a deep ravine. The whole fertility of the country hangs on the amount of rain that falls in autumn and winter. No rain means no corn. No corn means starvation, and the people know it well. Even today, with modern methods of irrigation and water management, fervent prayer still goes up from some of the inhabitants of the land of Palestine, if the rainy season is passing away and a sufficient quantity of rain has not fallen.
3. Then Nehemiah found there was a third cause of distress. Every year, in addition to earning money to keep his wife and children alive, the poor man had to be ready for a visitor, and this visitor never received a very hearty welcome. Once a year there arrived at his door an official sent by the King of Persia. He was the tax-collector, sent to collect the tribute which had to be paid yearly to their master, the great sovereign at Shushan. Whatever else went unpaid, that tribute must be paid; whatever other debts they incurred, that sum must be paid in full, and paid at once.
Overpopulation, famine, taxes: it was no wonder that the people were so poor.
But the great cry in the streets of Jerusalem was not merely a cry of suffering and distress; it was an angry, complaining cry. It was the cry of those who felt that others were to blame for their sorrows.
As Nehemiah walked among the weeping crowds, and as he talked to the people one by one, he found that there were no less than three sets of complaints.
1. There were the desperately poor people who had no private means whatever, but who were entirely dependent on the work of their hands and on the wages they got for that work. These came to Nehemiah and poured out their sorrowful tale. They said that they had large families, for “we, our sons, and our daughters, are many.”
But, “happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them,” says the Psalm, and are not children a heritage and gift that comes from the Lord? Yet when the quiver is full (for a quiver held only a limited number of arrows), when food is scarce and work is uncertain, it takes faith to trust the Lord to care for the children which He has given and to feel sure that He who sent them will send the food to feed them.
Now these overburdened parents said to Nehemiah, “We cannot let our children starve. We have been building this wall and earning nothing, but we have had to eat all these weeks. We have needed to buy corn for our families to keep them alive, and the consequence is we have run very heavily into debt.” That was the first class of complaints.
2. But among the weepers, Nehemiah found a second class. These were those who had once been somewhat better off and had at one time owned a little property, and had some wealth of their own, but who, at the time of the late famine, had gotten into difficulties. “I,” said one, “had a little farm in a village near Jerusalem.” “I,” said another, “was the owner of a nice little vineyard or oliveyard on the hillside.” “I,” said a third, “built a house in the city on my return from captivity, and hoped to leave it to my children.” “But so terrible was our distress in the famine,” said these men, “that we were obliged to borrow money of our neighbors, the rich Jews in Jerusalem. They were willing to lend the money, but they required security for it, and we were compelled to mortgage our property to these men. Now times are still bad, and we see no hope whatever that we shall be able to buy our possessions back again.”
3. But the shrillest cries of all came from the third class of people. These were men who, up to a certain point, resembled the second class. They had once possessed a little property, but in the time of famine they had parted with their lands, their houses and their vineyards like the rest. But the story of the third class did not end here. Since then these people had gotten into even worse difficulties. The tax-collector had come to collect the tribute for Artaxerxes and he had demanded immediate payment. They had, however, nothing to give him. What could they do? They were obliged once more to borrow money from their rich neighbors who lent it to them at the rate of twelve percent (one-eighth part of the money to be paid monthly). And what pledge, what security did these rich men require for their money? The poor people had already lost their houses and their vineyards; there was nothing left to them but their children. These poor folks had actually mortgaged their sons and daughters to the rich moneylenders. If the heavy interest was not paid, at any moment the child might be seized and carried off to the noble’s house to be brought up as a slave.
“No,” cried some of the mothers in the crowd, “our case is worst of all; some of our daughters have been taken as slaves already, and we have no power to redeem them. Yet we love our children just as much as these rich people love theirs; ours are just as dear to us as theirs are to them.”
“And then,” said Nehemiah, “when I had heard their cry and listened to their tale, I was very angry.” But surely it was wrong of Nehemiah to be angry. Is not anger a bad thing? Is it not one of the works of the devil, which we are bidden to lay aside? What does the Apostle Paul say in Ephesians 4:2626Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: (Ephesians 4:26)? “Be ye angry, and sin not.” So it is possible to be angry and yet to be sinless. And we read in Mark 3:55And when he had looked round about on them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts, he saith unto the man, Stretch forth thine hand. And he stretched it out: and his hand was restored whole as the other. (Mark 3:5) that, in the synagogue at Capernaum, the Lord Jesus looked around on the hard-hearted Pharisees with anger, and we know that in Him was no sin.
Nehemiah was very angry, yet that was not sin. He was angry at the wrongdoing which was offending God and doing harm to God’s cause. It was righteous anger against the cruelty and selfishness of those who, in those hard times, had profited from the poverty and distress of their poor fellow-countrymen.
For some time Nehemiah did nothing, but he carefully turned the matter over in his mind. He said, “I consulted with myself,” or as it is in the margin, “My heart consulted in me.” We can picture him pacing up and down, saying again and again, What shall I do? What is the wisest course to take? How can this great evil be stopped? I am sure, too, that he took this trouble, as he had taken all his other anxieties and cares, and laid it before the God of heaven.
Then he sent for the nobles and all those who had oppressed the people, and he spoke to them very plainly. He rebuked the nobles and the rulers, and said unto them, “Ye exact usury, every one of his brother.” (To exact usury means to charge more interest than the law allows to be charged for the repayment of a loan.) In doing this they had broken the law, for no Jew was allowed to take interest (or increase) of another Jew, much less to exact usury (see Ex. 22:2525If thou lend money to any of my people that is poor by thee, thou shalt not be to him as an usurer, neither shalt thou lay upon him usury. (Exodus 22:25); Ezek. 18:8,178He that hath not given forth upon usury, neither hath taken any increase, that hath withdrawn his hand from iniquity, hath executed true judgment between man and man, (Ezekiel 18:8)
17That hath taken off his hand from the poor, that hath not received usury nor increase, hath executed my judgments, hath walked in my statutes; he shall not die for the iniquity of his father, he shall surely live. (Ezekiel 18:17)).
The Hebrew was to look upon every other Hebrew as his brother and to treat him as such. There was to be brotherly love in time of misfortune, such love as would prevent the receiving of increase from the one who was in trouble. With regard to the mortgaging of land, it does not seem that these rich men had actually broken the law. Such pledges were allowed, provided that the mortgaged property was returned in the year of jubilee. But, while they had not broken the letter of the law, these Jews had certainly acted in a hard, self-seeking way, showing no sympathy whatever for the sorrows of those around them.
How different this was from the generous conduct of Nehemiah himself! All the time of his government he drew no taxes or contributions from the people over whom he ruled, as other governors did, and as his predecessors in Jerusalem had done. Eastern governors in those days were accustomed to farm their provinces. That is to say, the king paid them no salary, but he put the taxation of the people in their hands. A certain fixed sum was to be sent to the king every year from the province, and whatever the governor could squeeze out of the people, over and above this stated amount, went into his own pocket and formed his salary. The former Jewish governors had made a great deal of profit each year out of the people in their province.
When Nehemiah came to Jerusalem, he found the people so poverty-stricken and oppressed that he would not take a single penny for himself. It is probable that his salary as cup-bearer had been continued, and on this he lived and kept his household going all the time of his government. Not only did Nehemiah pay all his own private expenses, but he kept his house open for the people of Jerusalem. Every day 150 of the rulers and chief men dined with him. In addition, all the visitors to Jerusalem—Jews from other countries and strangers from foreign nations who were staying only a short time in the city—were all invited to the governor’s house and sat down at the governor’s table.
Nehemiah himself gives us his daily bill of fare (verse 18).
1 ox;
6 fat sheep;
Fowls without number;
A fresh supply of wine of all kinds every tenth day.
It was a great expense to have more than 150 men to dinner daily, yet in spite of this, Nehemiah took not a penny from his province, so saddened was he by the poverty of the people. Not only so, but all the time the walls were being built he toiled away and allowed all his household servants to work both night and day, and yet looked for no payment or compensation (verse 16). Then besides all this, Nehemiah had been most generous in the time of the famine; he had supplied the poor people with money and with corn, while he had firmly refused to allow them to pledge or mortgage their lands, much less their children (verse 10).
And Nehemiah tells us the secret of his consistent conduct; he tells us why he differed so much from the governors who went before him. A strong power held him back from sin. “So did not I, because of the fear of God.”
Thus Nehemiah had a right to speak, for he practiced what he preached. But in spite of this, his private appeal to the nobles appears to have been in vain. They seem to have given no answer, to have taken no notice of his appeal, and to have given him no reason to think that they intended to change their conduct.
Nehemiah then called a great assembly of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, rich and poor, for he felt that if the conduct of the nobles were publicly exposed and condemned, they might possibly be ashamed to continue it.
Nehemiah’s speech at the meeting was very much to the point. He first tried to shame the nobles by reminding them that while he, ever since his return, had been spending his money in buying back those Jews who had been sold into slavery to the heathen around them, they on the other hand had actually been doing the very opposite. They were bringing their fellow-citizens into slavery to themselves. Was this right or fair or just? The argument was one which they could not answer; there was dead silence (verse 8).
Now, said Nehemiah, consider: “Ought ye not to walk in the fear of our God?” Shouldn’t you be careful in your conduct, kind and just and generous in your dealing? And why? “Because of the reproach of the heathen our enemies.” Because you Jews are God’s people, and all these heathen around will judge your God by what you are. You make a profession of religion. You claim to have high motives, but if they see you grasping, greedy and hard, like themselves, what will they think of your religion? Surely they will say, “These Jews are no better than ourselves; their religion cannot be worth much.”
Now, said Nehemiah, remembering all this, bearing in mind the disgrace you are bringing on the Jews, I call upon you at once to give up this practice of mortgaging and pledge-taking. Not only so, I bid you restore at once the vineyards and the oliveyards, the fields and the houses you have taken from these poor people. I bid you also to return the interest they have paid you (the eighth part of the money), and I call upon you, in every way you can, to undo the evil you have done already, and in the future to do unto others as you would have them do to you (verses 10,11).
Nehemiah’s earnest words prevailed. “Then said they, We will restore them.”
This promise was followed by a very curious act on the part of Nehemiah. “I shook my lap.” The lap is what the Latins called the sinus: a fold in the bosom of the tunic which was used as a pocket. Nehemiah, in the Eastern manner, used a sign to show what would happen to any man who should break the promise he had just made. God would cast him forth as a homeless wanderer, emptied of all his possessions, all his ill-gotten wealth. He would be void or empty, just as Nehemiah’s pocket was void or empty (verse 13).
“And all the congregation said, Amen.” Then, instead of the great cry of distress, was heard the great shout of joy, for they “praised the Lord.” And the promise was not one of those promises made to be broken, for “the people did according to this promise.”
It has been well said that Christians are the only Bible that most men of the world read. In other words, those who will not read the Bible themselves judge the religion of Christ simply by the Christians they happen to come across. This is not a fair way of judging; it surely cannot be right to condemn Christianity itself, simply because many of those who profess it are not what they ought to be.
Let us picture for ourselves an island in the Pacific Ocean, where no European has ever been seen. A large ship is wrecked not far from this island and three men are able to make their escape in a boat and to land upon its shore. The men belong to three different nations-one is a Frenchman, another is a German and the third is an Englishman. The people of the island receive them most kindly, warm them and feed them and shelter them and do all they can for them till a ship comes to take them away.
What return do the three men make for their kindness? The Frenchman is grateful and willing to make himself useful in any way he can; he amuses the children and helps in the work of the house and does all he can to make return for the hospitality he is receiving. The German is very clever with his fingers and spends his time in teaching the natives to make many things which they had not been able to do before; he becomes indeed so helpful to them that they dread the day coming when he will have to leave them. But the Englishman is a man of low tastes and bad morals. He spends his time in drinking the liquor he finds on the island, in quarreling with the inhabitants and in ill-treating their children. There is not a soul on the island who does not rejoice when the ship bears him away, never to return.
Soon after this, news is brought that a small colony from Europe is anxious to settle on that island and to trade with the inhabitants. The commercial advantages of this step are laid before the natives and permission is asked for the party of traders to land. One question and one question only is asked by the inhabitants. Of what nation are these colonists? The answer is brought back, “They are English.” At once the whole island is up in arms. “They shall not land,” they cry. “We will not hear of it. We know what English people are like. We have had enough of the English. Had they been French or Germans we would have given them a hearty welcome, but we never wish to see an Englishman again.”
But surely that was not fair; it was not right to judge a whole nation by one bad specimen. Nor is it right to judge the followers of Christ in that way. I know a man, says one, who is hard and grasping and self-seeking, and that man makes a religious profession, therefore I will have nothing to do with religion. I know a Christian who is bad-tempered; I know a Christian who is not particular about telling the truth; I know a Christian out of whose mouth come bitter, unkind words; I know a Christian who is unpleasant in his manner; I know a Christian with whom I would be sorry to do business; I know a Christian who is always mournful and miserable. These are your Christians, are they? Then do not ask me to be one. I don’t have a good opinion of any of them.
Yet, after all, the man who speaks thus draws an unfair conclusion. Because I find in my bag of gold one counterfeit coin, or even two or three bad ones, am I therefore to throw all the rest away? And because one Christian or even many Christians disgrace their Master and act inconsistently, am I therefore to condemn Christianity itself? Am I therefore to cut off my own soul from all hope of safety?
But remembering this, bearing in mind that many eyes are on us, that our conduct is being read, our ways watched, our actions weighed, our motives sifted, Christian friends, let us walk carefully. Do not let us bring disgrace on our Lord; do not let us hinder others and be a stumbling-block in their way. Do not let us give the world a wrong idea of Christ.
We are not alert enough, not half careful enough. Let us walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise. Let us, whenever we have been tempted to any inconsistency, be able to take up Nehemiah’s brave, noble words. “So did not I, because of the fear of God.”
I could not display bad temper, could not be hard or grasping, could not be deceitful, could not disgrace my Master, because in my heart was a principle holding me back from sin: the fear of the Lord. I feared to grieve the One who loved me, and that fear kept me safe. “So did not I, because of the fear of God.”