SPEAKING IN PARABLES
Teaching and conversing in parables and proverbs is a distinctly Oriental characteristic. A parable is a word picture whose purpose is not to construct a definition or to establish a doctrine, but to convey an impression. However, the Oriental makes no distinction between a proverb and a parable. In both the Hebrew and the Arabic, the word mathel signifies either a short wise saying, such as may be found in the Book of Proverbs, or a longer utterance, such as a New Testament parable. In the Arabic Bible, the wise sayings of the Book of Proverbs are called amthal, and the parabolic discourses of Jesus are also called amthal. This term is the plural of mathel (parable or proverb). This designation includes also any wise poetical saying, or any human state of fortune or adversity. Thus a very generous man becomes a mathel bilkaram (a parable of generosity); and a man of unsavory reputation becomes a mathel beinennass (a saying or a by-word among the people). In the forty-fourth Psalm, the fourteenth verse, the poet cries: "Thou makest us a by-word among the nations, a shaking of the head among the people." A fine illustration of the mathel as a poetical saying, although not strictly allegorical, is the opening passage of the twenty-ninth chapter of the Book of Job, where it is said:—
"And Job again took up his parable and said,
Oh that I were as in the months of old,
As in the days when God watched over me;
When his lamp shined upon my head,
And by his light I walked through darkness;
As I was in the ripeness of my days,
When the friendship of God was upon my tent;
When the Almighty was yet with me,
And my children were about me;
When my steps were washed with butter,
And the rock poured me out rivers of oil!"[[1]]
Where in human literature can we find a passage to surpass in beauty and tenderness this introspective utterance?
Parabolic speech is dear to the Oriental heart. It is poetical, mystical, sociable. In showing the reason why Jesus taught in parables, Biblical writers speak of the indirect method, the picture language, the concealing of the truth from those "who had not the understanding," and so forth. But those writers fail to mention a most important reason, namely, the sociable nature of such a method of teaching, which is so dear to the Syrian heart. In view of the small value the Orientals place upon time, the story-teller, the speaker in parables, is to them the most charming conversationalist. Why be so prosy, brief, and abstract? The spectacular charm and intense concreteness of the parable of the Prodigal Son is infinitely more agreeable to the Oriental mind than the general precept that God will forgive his truly penitent children. How romantic and how enchanting to me are the memories of those sehrat (evening gatherings) at my father's house! How simple and how human was the homely wisdom of the stories and the parables which were spoken on those occasions. The elderly men of the clan loved to speak of what "was said in the ancient days" (qadeem ezzeman). "Qal el-wathel" (said the parable) prefaced almost every utterance. And as the speaker proceeded to relate a parable and to reinforce the ancient saying by what his own poetic fancy could create at the time of kindred material, we listened admiringly, and looked forward with ecstatic expectation to the maana (meaning, or moral). Oral traditions, the Scriptures, Mohammedan literature, and other rich sources are drawn upon, both for instruction in wisdom and for entertainment.
In picturing the condition of one who has been demoralized beyond redemption, the entertaining speaker proceeds in this fashion: "Once upon a time a certain man fell from the housetop and was badly injured. The neighbors came and carried him into the house and placed him in bed. Then one of his friends approached near to the injured man and said to him, 'Asaad, my beloved friend, how is your condition [kief halak]?' The much-pained man opened his mouth and said, 'My two arms are broken; my back and one of my legs are broken; one of my eyes is put out; I am badly wounded in the breast, and feel that my liver is severed. But I trust that God will restore me.' Whereupon his friend answered, 'Asaad, I am distressed. But if this is your condition, it will be much easier for God to make a new man to take your place than to restore you!'"
One of the most beautiful parables I know, and which I often heard my father relate, bears on the subject of partiality, and is as follows:—
"Once upon a time there were two men, the one named Ibrahim, the other Yusuf. Each of the men had a camel. It came to pass that when Yusuf fell sick he asked of his neighbor Ibrahim, who was about to journey to Alappo, to take his camel with him also, with a load of merchandise. Yusuf begged Ibrahim to treat the camel in exactly the same manner as he did his own, and promised him that if God kept him alive until he came back he would repay him both the good deed, and the cost of the camel's keep. Ibrahim accepted the trust, and took his journey to Alappo, with the two camels. Upon his return Yusuf saw that his own camel did not look so well as Ibrahim's. So he spoke to his friend: 'Ibrahim, by the life of God, what has happened to my camel? He is not as good as your camel. O Ibrahim, did you care for my camel as you did for your camel?' Then Ibrahim answered and said, 'By the life of God, O Yusuf, I fed, and watered, and groomed your camel as I did my camel. God witnesseth between us, Yusuf, this is the truth. But I will say to you, you my eyes, my heart, that when night came and I lay me down on my cloak to sleep between the two camels, I placed my head nearer to my camel than to yours.'"
It was the desirableness to Orientals of this type of speech which prompted the writer of the Gospel of Matthew to say of Jesus, "And without a parable spake he not unto them."[[2]] This utterance itself is characteristically Oriental. As a matter of fact, Jesus did often speak to the multitude without parables. But his strong tendency to make use of the parable, and its agreeableness to his hearers, seemed to the Scriptural writer to be a sufficient justification for his sweeping assertion.
Of the New Testament parables some are quoted in this work in connection with other subjects than that with which this chapter deals. I will mention here a few more of these sayings as additional illustrations of the present subject, and with reference to the allusions to Oriental life which they contain.
In the thirteenth chapter of Matthew, we have the parable of the wheat and the tares: "The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field: but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way. But when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also."
The tare (zewan) is a grain which when ground with the wheat and eaten causes dizziness and nausea, a state much like seasickness. For this reason this plant is hated by the Syrians, although they use tares very extensively as chicken feed. Wheat merchants are likely to sell kameh mizwen (wheat mixed with tares) in hard times, because they can buy it for less money than pure wheat. I do not believe there is a family among the common people of Syria which has not suffered at one time or another from "tare-sickness." Having tasted the gall of this affliction a few times myself, I do not at all wonder at the Syrians' belief that tares must have come into the world by the Devil. And what I still remember with both amusement and sympathy are the heartfelt, withering imprecations which the afflicted ones always showered upon the seller of the "tarey wheat." When the food had taken real effect and the staggering, nauseated members of a family felt compelled to allow nature to take its course, the gasps and groans punctuated the ejaculations, "May God destroy his home!" "May the gold turn into dust in his hands!" "May he spend the price of what he sold us at the funerals of his children!"—and so forth.
Do you feel now the force of the allusion to the tares in the parable? "So the servants of the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? from whence then hath it tares? He said unto them, An enemy hath done this."
Enemies are of course always disposed to injure one another, and in an agricultural country like Syria harm is often done to property for revenge. So the scattering of tares for this purpose in a newly sown wheat-field is not utterly unnatural or unthinkable. But the reference in the parable is to a belief which is prevalent in some districts in Syria, to the effect that in spite of all that the sower can do to prevent it, the tares do appear mysteriously in fields where only wheat had been sown. Some evil power introduces the noxious plant. Once I listened to a heated controversy on the subject between some Syrian landowners and an American missionary. The landowners clung to the belief that tares would appear in a field even if no tare seed was ever planted in that field, while the son of the West insisted that no such growth could take place without the seed having first been introduced into the field in some natural way. The fight was a draw.
"The servants said unto him, Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up? But he said, Nay, lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them."
The attempt is often made to pull up the hated tares from among the wheat, but in vain. The concluding admonition in the parable may well be taken to heart by every hasty reformer of the type of a certain regenerator of society, who, when asked to proceed slowly, said, "The fact is I am in a hurry, and God is not!"
In the same chapter (Matt. XIII) occurs the parable of the "leaven." "The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened." The setting of this short parable in Syrian life is given in another chapter.[[3]] But I mention it here in order to give my comment on a rather strange interpretation of the parable which came recently to my knowledge. In the course of a conversation I had with a prominent Baptist minister not long since, he stated to me that certain interpreters assert that the leaven in this parable meant the corruption which has come into the Christian Church, etc. My friend was anxious to know whether to my knowledge the Syrians associated leaven with corruption.
This interpretation echoes an ancient idea of leaven of which modern Syrians have no knowledge. They hold the leaven in high and reverential esteem.[[4]] To them it is the symbol of growth and fecundity. In many of the rural districts of Syria, upon approaching the door of her future home the bride is given the khamera (the lump of leaven) which she pastes on the upper doorsill and passes under it into the house. As she performs the solemn act her friends exclaim, "May you be as blessed and as fruitful as the khamera!"
However, it is a well-known fact to readers of ancient records that in the earliest times bread was entirely unleavened. When the Israelites were roaming tribes they ate and offered to Jehovah unleavened bread. The Arab tribes of to-day on the borders of Syria eat no leavened bread. They believe that it tends to reduce the vitality and endurance of the body. Perhaps the real reason for preferring the unleavened bread is that it is much easier to make, and dispenses with taking care of the lump of leaven between bakings, which is not so convenient for roaming tribes to do. The use of unleavened bread for so many generations among the Israelites constituted its sacredness, and it was the conservatism of religion which still called for unleavened bread for the offering, even after leavened bread had become universally the daily food of the people.
So to the ancients the fermentation in the process of leavening was considered corruption. It was something which entered into the lump and soured it. The New Testament use of the word "leaven" as meaning corruption is purely figurative, and signifies influence, or bad doctrine. It was in this sense that Jesus used the word when he said to his disciples:[[5]] "Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of the Sadducees"; and again:[[6]] "Take heed, beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and of the leaven of Herod." The fact that the disciples did not understand at first what the Master meant shows that to the general public "leaven" and "corruption" were not synonymous terms. Had they been, it is certain that Jesus never would have said, "The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven."
The fifteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel contains the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son. The parable of the lost sheep is discussed in another chapter.[[7]] The parable of the lost coin portrays a very familiar scene in the ordinary Syrian home. "What woman," says the Master, "having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbors together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost."
The candle spoken of here is a little olive-oil lamp—an earthen saucer, with a protruding lip curled up at one point in the rim for the wick. How often have I held that flickering light for my mother while she searched for a lost coin or some other precious object. The common Syrian house has one door and one or two small windows, with wooden shutters, without glass.[[8]] Consequently the interior of the house is dimly lighted, especially in the winter season. The scarcity of money in the hands of the people makes the loss of a coin, of the value of that which is mentioned in the parable (about sixteen cents), a sad event. The little house is searched with eager thoroughness—"diligently." The straw mats, cushions, and sheepskins which cover the floor are turned over, and the earthen floor swept. The search continues, with diligence and prayerful expectations, until the lost coin is found. The Arabic Bible states that the gladdened woman "calls her women neighbors and friends (jaratiha wesedikatiha), saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost." The singling out of the women neighbors is significant here. As a rule the loss of a precious coin by a woman calls her husband's wrath upon her, regardless of whether the coin had been earned by her or by him. The women friends have a keen fellow-feeling in such matters. They keep one another's secrets from the men, and rejoice when one of their number escapes an unpleasant situation.
The total meaning of this parable is plain as it is most precious. Through this common occurrence in a Syrian home, Jesus impresses upon the minds of his hearers, as well as upon the consciousness of all mankind, the infinite worth of the human soul, and the Father's love and care for it. "Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth."
The parable of the prodigal son follows immediately that of the lost coin. "A certain man had two sons: and the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living." The first thing in this parable to challenge the attention is the father's quick compliance with the request of his son. "And he divided unto them his living." The custom of a father dividing his property among his grown sons before his death prevails much more extensively in the East than in the West. As a rule neither the law nor custom gives legal standing to a will. Sometimes the father's wishes with regard to how his property should be divided after his death are carried out by his sons. But as a general rule the father who does not divide his property legally between his sons before his death leaves to them a situation fraught with danger. Litigation in such cases is very slow and uncertain.
It was such a situation, no doubt, which led the man referred to in the twelfth chapter of Luke, the thirteenth verse, to say to Jesus, "Master, speak to my brother, that he divide the inheritance with me. And he said unto him, Man, who made me a judge or a divider over you?" And we may easily infer what Jesus thought of that particular case from his saying which follows immediately his answer to this man. "And he said unto them, Take heed, and beware of covetousness: for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." So the father of the prodigal son acted normally when he divided his substance between his two sons.
"And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living." The singling out of the younger son for this adventure comports with a highly cherished Oriental tradition. The elder son, who was the first-born male child in this household, could not very well be made to commit such an act. In a Syrian family the bikkr (the first-born son) stands next to the father in the esteem, not only of the members of his own household, but of the community at large. He cannot be supposed to be so rash, so unmindful of his birthright, as to break the sacred family circle, and to waste his inheritance in riotous living.
"And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have been filled with the husks that the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him."
To be a swineherd, or a "swine-shepherd," is the most contemptible occupation an Oriental can think of. It is no wonder at all to me that the Gospel writers make the destination of the "legion" of devils which Jesus cast out of the man "in the country of the Gadarenes," a herd of swine.[[9]] You cannot hire a Syrian to make a pet of a "little piggie." If he did, he would be called "Abu khenzier" (pig man) for the rest of his life, and transmit the unenviable title to his posterity, "even unto the third and fourth generation."
The word "husks" in the English version is not a correct rendering of the original term. The marginal note in the Revised Version reads, "the pods of the carob tree." The Arabic version says simply kherrûb (carob). The carob tree is very common in the lowlands of Syria. It is a large tree of dense foliage, and round, glossy, dark-green leaves. The pods it bears measure from five to ten inches in length, are flat, and largely horn-shaped. I do not know why the English translators of the Bible called those pods "husks." They are sold in almost every town in western Syria for food. Children are very fond of kherrûb. Some of the pods contain no small amount of sugar. In my boyhood days, a pocketful of kherrûb, which I procured for a penny, was to me rather a treat. The older people, however, do not esteem kherrûb so highly as do the children. The bulk of it is so out of proportion to the sugar it contains that its poverty is proverbial in the land. Of one whose conversation is luxuriant in words and barren of ideas it is said, "It is like eating kherrûb; you have to consume a cord of wood in order to get an ounce of sweet." By eating these pods, the poor people seem to themselves "to have been filled" while in reality they have received but little nutrition. Therefore kherrûb is generally eaten by animals.
It may be observed that the saying in the parable, "and he would fain have been filled with kherrûb that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him," simply describes the prodigal's poverty. For as a "swine-shepherd" the "kherrûb that the swine did eat" was certainly very accessible to him. The purpose of the passage is to draw the contrast between the rich parental home which the prodigal had willingly left and the extremely humble fare on which in his wretched state he was compelled to subsist.
The return of the prodigal son to his father's house, impoverished but penitent, the affectionate magnanimity of the father toward his son, and the spreading of the feast in honor of the occasion, are acts of humility and generosity which cannot be said to be exclusively Oriental. But the command of the father to his servants, "Bring hither the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and be merry," brings out the idea of the zebihat (animal sacrifice) with which the West is not familiar.
The ancient custom, whose echoes have not yet died out in the East, was that the host honored his guest most highly by killing a sheep at the threshold of the house, upon the guest's arrival, and inviting him to step over the blood into the house. This act formed the "blood covenant" between the guest and his host. It made them one. To us one of the most cordial and dignified expressions in inviting a guest, especially from a distant town, was, "If God ever favors us with a visit from you, we will kill a zebihat!"
In his great rejoicing in the return of his son, the father of the prodigal is made to receive him as he would a most highly honored guest. "The fatted calf"—and not only a sheep—is killed as the zebihat of a new covenant between a loving father and his son, who "was dead and is alive again; was lost, and is found."[[10]]
The parable of the "treasure hid in a field"[[11]] alludes to a very interesting phase of Syrian thought. "Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a treasure hid in a field, the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field."
I cannot refrain from quoting again in this connection the famous commentator, Adam Clarke. Speaking of this parable, he says: "We are not to imagine that the treasure here mentioned, and to which the gospel salvation is likened, means a pot or chest of money hidden in the field, but rather a gold or silver mine, which he who found out could not get at, or work, without turning up the field, and for this purpose he bought it. Mr. Wakefield's observation is very just: 'There is no sense in the purchase of a field for a pot of money, which he might have carried away very readily and as honestly, too, as by overreaching the owner by an unjust purchase.' ... From this view of the subject, the translation of this verse, given above, will appear proper—a hidden treasure, when applied to a rich mine, is more proper than a treasure hid, which applies better to a pot of money deposited there, which I suppose was our translator's opinion; and kept secret, or concealed, will apply better to the subject of his discovery till he made the purchase, than hideth, for which there could be no occasion, when the pot was already hidden, and the place known only to himself."
I have inserted here this double quotation, italics and all, in order to show how when the real facts are not known to a writer the temptation to play on words becomes irresistible. In this exposition the simple parable is treated as a legal document. Every word of it is subjected to careful scrutiny. "Hid" is converted into "hidden," and "concealed" is summoned to supplant "hideth," in order to make the "treasure" mean a vast deposit of gold ore, and get the poor Syrian peasant into the mining business.
The facts in the case, however, stand opposed to this explanation. I am absolutely safe in saying that every man, woman, and child in Syria understands that this parable refers simply and purely to a treasure of gold and silver which had been buried in a field by human hands. The entanglement of the commentator just quoted in the literary fault of the parable is inexcusable.
The New Testament writer might have said, not that the man in the parable found the treasure, but that he was led by certain signs to believe that a treasure lay hidden in the field. However, this is not the Oriental way of stating things, nor should the speaker in parables be denied the freedom of the poet and the artist to manipulate the particulars in such a way as to make them serve the central purpose of his production.
I could fill a book with the stories of hidden treasures which charmed my boyhood days in Syria. I have already put into print[[12]] a detailed account of my personal experience in digging for a hidden treasure, which will clearly show that the securing of such riches is not always so easy to diggers as the quotation just cited would make one believe. In order to show the attitude of Syrians in general toward this subject, I will quote the following from my own personal account:—
"In Syria it is universally believed that hidden treasures may be found anywhere in the land, and especially among ancient ruins. This belief rests on the simple truth that the tribes and clans of Syria, having from time immemorial lived in a state of warfare, have hidden their treasures in the ground, especially on the eve of battles.
"Furthermore, the wars of the past being wars of extermination, the vanquished could not return to reclaim their hidden wealth; therefore the ground is the keeper of vast riches. The tales of the digging and finding of such treasures fill the country. There are thrilling tales of treasures in various localities. Gold and other valuables are said to have been dug up in sealed earthen jars, often by the merest accident, in the ground, in the walls of houses, under enchanted trees, and in sepulchers. From earliest childhood the people's minds are fed on these tales, and they grow up with all their senses alert to the remotest suggestions of such possibilities."
The writer of the parable did not need to explain the situation to his Oriental readers. The mere mention of a "hidden treasure" was sufficient to make them know what the words meant. His supreme purpose was to impress them with the matchless worth of the kingdom of heaven which Christ came to reveal to the world.
[[1]] Revised Version.
[[2]] Matt. xiii: 34.
[[5]] Matt. xvi: 6.
[[6]] Mark viii: 15.
[[8]] See the author's autobiography, A Far Journey, chap. 1, entitled "My Father's House."
[[9]] Matt. viii: 32; Mark v: 13; Luke viii: 33.
[[10]] For the reason why the mother of the prodigal is not mentioned in the parable, see pages 207 and 334.
[[11]] Matt. xiii: 44.
[[12]] Atlantic Monthly, December, 1915. This story, with other essays, will soon appear in book form.