follow in spirit the mounful procession, as it started from the desolate home. As it issued, chairs and couches were reversed, and laid low. Outside, the funeral orator, if such was employed, preceded the bier, proclaiming the good deeds of the dead, [h Shabb. 153 a.] Immediately before the dead came the women, this being peculiar to Galilee, [i Shabb. 153 a.] the Midrash giving thisreason of it, that woman had introduced death into the world, [k Ber. R. 17 end.] The body was not, as afterwards in preference, [m Ber. 19 a.] carried in an ordinary coffin of wood (Aron), if possible, cedarwood, on one occassion, at least, made with holes beneath; [n Jer. Kil 32 b; Ber. R. 100.] but laid on a bier, or in anopen coffin (Mittah). In former times a distinction had been made in these biers between rich and poor. The former were carried on the so-called Dargash, as it were, in state, while the poor were conveyed in a receptacle made of wickerwork (Kelibha or Kelikhah), having sometimes at the foot what was termed 'a horn,' to which the body was made fast, [a Par. xii. 9.]But this distinction between rich and poor was abolished by Rabbinic ordinance, and both alike, if carried on a bier, were laid in that made of wickerwork. [b Moed K. 27 a and b.] Commonly, though not in later practice, the face of the dead body was uncovered, [c Semach. c. 8.] The body lay with its face turned up, and his hands folded on the breast. We may add, that when a person had died unmarried or childless, it was customary to put into the coffin something distinctive of them, such as pen and ink, or a key. Over the coffins of bride or bridegroom a baldachino was carried. Sometimes the coffin was garlanded with myrtle, [d Bez. 6 a Nidd. 37 a.] In exceptional cases we read of the use of incense, [e Moed K. 27 b; Ber. 53 a.] and even of a kind of libation, [f Jer. Sheq. ii. 7.] We cannot, then, be mistaken in supposing that the body of the widow's son was laid on the 'bed' (Mittah), or in the 'willow basket,' already described (Kelibha, from Kelubh). [1 It is evident the young man could not have been 'coffined,' or it would have been impossible for him to sit up at Christ's bidding. I must differ from the learned Delitzsch, who uses the word in translating. Very remarkable also it seems to me, that those who advocate wicker-basket interments are without knowing it, resorting to the old Jewish practice.] Nor can we doubt that the ends of handles were borne by friends and neighbours, different parties of bearers, all of them unshod, at frequent intervals relieving each other, so that as many as possible might share in the good work, [g Ber. iii. 1.] During these pauses there was loud lamentation; but this custom was not observed in the burial of women. Behind the bier walked the relatives, friends, and then the sympathising 'multitude.' For it was deemed like mocking one's Creator not to follow the dead to his last resting-place, and to all such want of reverence Prov. xvii. 5 was applied, [h Ber. 18 a.] If one were absolutely prevented from joining the procession, although for its sake all work, even study, should be interrupted, reverence should at least be shown by rising up before the dead, [i Jer. Sot. 17 b, end.] And so they would go on to what the Hebrews beautifully designated as the 'house of assembly' or 'meeting,' the 'hostelry,' the 'place of rest,' or 'of freedom,' the 'field of weepers,' the 'house of eternity,' or 'of life.'
We can now transport ourselves into that scene. Up from the city close by came this 'great multitude' that followed the dead, with lamentations, wild chaunts of mourning women, [2 Sometimes the lament was chaunted simply in chorus, at others one woman began and then the rest joined in chorus. The latter was distinctively termed the Qinah, see Moed K. iii. 9.] accompanied by flutes and the melancholy tinkle of cymbals, perhaps by trumpets, [a Keth. 17a; Moed K. 27 bl.] amidst expressions of general sympathy. Along the road from Endor streamed the great multitude which followed the 'Prince of Life.' Here they met: Life and Death. The connecting link between them was the deep sorrow of the widowed mother. He recognised her as she went before the bier, leading him to the grave whom she had brought into life. He recognised her, but she recognised Him not, had not even seen Him. She was still weeping; even after He had hastened a step or two in advance of His followers, quite close to her, she did not heed Him, and was still weeping. But, 'beholding her,' the Lord [2 The term for 'the Lord' is peculiar to St. Luke and St. John, a significant conjunction. It occurs only once in St. Mark (xvi. 19).] 'had compassion on her.' Those bitter, silent tears which blinded her eyes were strongest language of despair and utmost need, which never in vain appeals to His heart, Who has borne our sorrows. We remember, by way of contrast, the common formula used at funerals in Palestine, 'Weep with them, all ye who are bitter of heart!' [b Moed K. 8 a, lines 7 and 8 from bottom.] It was not so that Jesus spoke to those around, nor to her, but characteristically: 'Be not weeping.' [3 So literally. We here recall the unfeeling threats by R. Huna of further bereavements to a mother who wept very much, and their fulfilment (Moed. K. 27 b).] And what He said, that He wrought. He touched the bier, perhaps the very wicker basket in which the dead youth lay. He dreaded not the greatest of all defilements, that of contact with the dead, [c Kei. i.] which Rabbinism, in its elaboration of the letter of the Law, had surrounded with endless terrors. His was other separation than of the Pharisees: not that of submission to ordinances, but of conquest of what made them necessary.
And as He touched the bier, they who bore it stood still. They could not have anticipated what would follow. But the awe of the coming wonder, as it were, the shadow of the opening gates of life, had fallen on them. One word of sovereign command, 'and he that was dead sat up, and began to speak.' Not of that world of which he had had brief glimpse. For, as one who suddenly passes from dream-vision to waking, in the abruptness of the transition, loses what he had seen, so he, who from that dazzling brightness was hurried back to the dim light to which his vision had been accustomed. It must have seemed to him, as if he woke from long sleep. Where was he now? who those around him? what this strange assemblage? and Who He, Whose Light and Life seemed to fall upon him?
And still was Jesus the link between the mother and the son, who had again found each other. And so, in the truest sense, 'He gave him [1 So literally, and very significantly.] to his mother.' Can any one doubt that mother and son henceforth owned, loved, and trusted Him as the true Messiah? If there was no moral motive for this miracle, outside Christ's sympathy with intense suffering and the bereavement of death, was there no moral result as the outcome of it? If mother and son had not called upon Him before the miracle, would they not henceforth and for ever call upon Him? And if there was, so to speak, inward necessity, that Life Incarnate should conquer death, symbolic and typic necessity of it also, was not everything here congruous to the central fact in this history? The simplicity and absence of all extravagant details; the Divine calmness and majesty on the part of the Christ, so different from the manner in which legend would have coloured the scene, even from the intense agitation which characterised the conduct of an Elijah, an
Elisha, or a Peter, in somewhat similar circumstances; and, lastly, the beauteous harmony where all is in accord, from the first touch of compassion till when, forgetful of the bystanders, heedless of'effect,' He gives the son back to his mother, are not all these worthy of the event, and evidential of the truth of the narrative?
But, after all, may we regard this history as real, and, if so, what are its lessons? [2 Minor difficulties may be readily dismissed. Such is the question, why this miracle has not been recorded by St. Matthew. Possibly St. Matthew may have remained a day behind in Capernaum. In any case, the omission cannot be of real importance as regards the question of the credibility of such a miracle, since similar miracles are related in all the four Gospels.] On one point, at least, all serious critics are now agreed. It is impossible to ascribe it to exaggeration, or to explain it on natural grounds. The only alternative is to regard it either as true, or as designedly false. Be it, moreover, remembered, that not only one Gospel, but all, relate some story of raising the dead, whether that of this youth, of Jairus' daughter, or of Lazarus. They also all relate the Resurrection of the Christ, which really underlies those other miracles. But if this history of the raising of the young man is false, what motive can be suggested for its invention, for motive there must have been for it? Assuredly, it was no part of Jewish expectancy concerning the Messiah, that He would perform such a miracle. And negative criticism has admitted, [3 So Keim, who finally arrives at the conclusion that the event is fictitious His account seems to me painfully unfair, as well as unsatisfactory in the extreme.] that the differences between this history and the raising of the dead by Elijajh or Elisha are so numerous and great, that these narratives cannot be regarded as suggesting that of the raising of the young man of Nain. We ask again: Whence, then, this history, if it was not true? It is an ingenious historical suggestion, rather an admission by negative criticism [1 This is the admission of Keim.], that so insignificant,and otherwise unknown, a place as Nain would not have been fixed upon as the site of this miracle, if some great event had not occurred there which made lasting impression on the mind of the Church. What was that event, and does not the reading of this record carry conviction of its truth? Legends have not been so written. Once more, the miracle is described as having taken place, not in the seclusion of a chamber, nor before a few interested witnesses, but in sight of the great multitude which had followed Jesus, and of that other great multitude which came from Cana. In this twofold great multitude was there none, from whom the enemies of Christianity could have wrung contradiction, if the narrative was false? Still further, the history is told with such circumstantiality of details, as to be inconsistent with the theory of a later invention. Lastly, no one will question, that belief in the reality of such 'raising from the dead' was a primal article in the faith of the primitive Church, for which, as a fact, not a possibility, all were ready to offer up their lives. Nor should we forget that, in one of the earliest apologies addressed to the Roman Emperor, Quadratus appealed to the
