After the wonderful and beautiful object-lesson to the human understanding, in the feeding of the five thousand men, besides women and children,—in which Spirit was shown to be the source of all supply and its measure abundance,—the command was given to "gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." Like all revelation, this was an adaptation of spiritual truth to the human understanding, and was a result of Jesus' realization of Spirit as substance, the source of all good. Such a demonstration effectively destroyed the claim of want, and proved the truth of the psalmist's words: "The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing." The divine economy discloses the abundance of good, but would save us from the perversion of any part of our precious possessions.
Connected with this coming of the Christ-idea to the flesh, is a well-known legend, which has a deep moral lesson for us to-day. Some years before Jesus began to preach and to heal the sick and sinful, a little Jewish boy was seriously injured while at play, and it appeared that his playmate was to blame for the sad occurrence. The child's sufferings, and, perhaps even more potently, the thoughts of those around him, filled him with a sense of hate and a desire for retaliation. Mortal sense was counseled to seek satisfaction in revenge, and in order to do this the child, with all the intensity of an Oriental nature, saved all he could for that purpose. In due time Jesus was healing the sick and afflicted in Galilee, and his marvelous work directed thought to this boy, who was badly deformed, his friends wondering if he also could be healed by the Nazarene. The one who told the lad of the possible help for him, had the wisdom to make it plain that he must forsake his evil intentions; upon which condition they were willing to take him to the Master. The struggle that ensued was most severe; but good won the day, the desire to be well deciding the question.
The intensity of the struggle but measured the false belief so long held, the wrong purpose in which the erring human thought was centered. When, however, the boy was brought to the Master, the sense of human will, in its expression of hatred and desire for revenge, gave way before the spiritual sense of gentleness and meekness, and he was healed. In his heart sprang up a song of gratitude and praise, for all things had become new; he was like one awakening out of a bad dream; he was transformed. For the first time in his life did he become conscious of the divine presence, and this brought to him an indescribable sense of wholeness. We are told that his "revenge money" was spent for provisions to carry with him, so that he could go about with the Master and witness his wonderful works.
It is said that at the time Jesus asked his disciples to give food to the multitude, this was the lad who had the five loaves and two fishes. This then was the disposition of the fund laid by for revenge, and thus does truth overcome error, and make even "the wrath of man" to praise God. To have fed a moderate number, or even the one formerly looked upon as an enemy, would have been noble and good, but to see the Master feed a multitude of many thousands must have been compensation for all the years of suffering. When mortal mind gives up its idols, and lays all on the altar, then the sweet consciousness of ever-present Love illumines the benighted sense. How rich was this lad, after his experience of suffering, of sense-deprivation. Suffering humanity may well take home the lesson that all adversity, whatever its apparent form or degree to human sense, should and can be overcome and be turned into praise to God here and now, that it should serve as a means to turn us Spiritward by loosening the myriad tendrils of deception which bind mortals to earth.
In "Rudimental Divine Science" (p. 21) our Leader says, "Sickness is the schoolmaster, leading you to Christ; first to faith in Christ; next to belief in God as omnipotent; and finally to the understanding of God and man in Christian Science, whereby you learn that God is good, and in Science man is His likeness, the forever reflection of goodness." This calls to mind the oft-quoted passage of Scripture, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." Now the purpose of God is the wholeness of man, or "salvation to the uttermost;" this, though not a theological concept or teaching, is the spiritual fact. How infatuated with materialism mortals would remain were it not for the potent reminder of suffering, this timely indicator of wrong thinking!
In the same chapter which records the feeding of the multitude, Jesus says, "For I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me. And this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing." No single iota of good is ever lost. Nothing must be disregarded in the all-embracing divine economy which enables us to retrace all of our steps taken in the wrong direction. In order to overcome the errors of mortal thought we need to change, not our faith, but the object and direction of our faith from wrong to right, from matter to Spirit, from darkness to light; such a change of base makes possible the true overcoming of the mistakes which evil—the false reasoning from a false basis— charges to good.
It is significant that the majority of those who are now looking into and depending entirely on the spiritual import of the words and works of Christ have come to do so through suffering, either physical or mental. Mortals have cause to be grateful for the extreme measures of Love, though they are made necessary by the stubborn self-centeredness of human thought, for by means of these extreme measures we are driven to seek for spiritual understanding. Were we more watchful and awake to the voice of Truth, such trying experiences would not be needful.
The earnest desire to know God, to be Christlike, has gone forth from many a heart and is always answered by divine Love; perhaps not according to the outlining of mortal sense, but in God's own way and time. "He who will not listen must feel," says a German adage, and mortals have learned that he who will not learn from observation will be taught by hard experience. The expressed need must be met; but when mortals ask for help, there should be no complaint against God's answer. God, being eternally right, can only answer according to His divine standard, and who but God can tell when the human will has sufficiently conformed to Spirit? Jesus was first in obedience; he knew but the Father's will, and to him there was but one source of supply, viz., Spirit. He well knew the human need of that divine supply, and since the fragments were an integral part of it, nothing could be wasted. All things spiritual must fulfil their mission, be it ever so small in human estimation.
We read in the Psalms, "The stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of the corner." Referring to the teaching of Christ Jesus, Peter said, "This is the stone which was set at nought of you builders, which is become the head of the corner." Here is conclusive evidence, from both the Old and New Testament, of the utter falsity of the human judgment and estimation of the character of the Christ of God,—the Saviour of the world; certainly a question of the utmost importance and most far-reaching consequences. Has not the same erroneous judgment been proportionally passed on all that is truly spiritual?
The story is told that in the building of a certain great cathedral, for which the finest tinted marble was procured, workmen were called from far and near, and only the most skilful employed; everything that art could produce or genius devise was sought after. The stained glass windows were the most beautiful that could be obtained. For months that lengthened into years the sound of hammer and chisel rang out upon the neighborhood, till finally the work was nearing completion and the day of dedication was set. Everything seemed to be in perfect order, when, on the day previous to the dedication, the master builder discovered to his dismay that one window, up quite high, had not been provided for. Amid the confusion that this discovery called forth, a crippled old man, to the master builder's surprise, offered a window which he, though he was not skilled in the art, had made out of bits of glass he had gathered amid the jeers and rough jests of the skilled workmen. From these bits of colored glass, obedient to his concept of harmony of colors, he had formed this window, which proved to be of the same size as the one which was lacking. Under the stress of circumstances (the bishop was to preach the dedication sermon, and everything had to appear finished) the master builder was glad to have something to place there temporarily, though he accepted the offer in a spirit of condescension. So the window made of discarded bits of glass was put in place. It was not a very large window, but the sunlight fell on it early and late. The old man had longed to do something for this temple of God, and the window was the best he could do. He had hoped that it might be used somewhere, no matter how humble the place; but this position was beyond his fondest hope.
On the day of dedication the church was crowded, and the grandeur of the building and its decorations, the curves and lines of beauty everywhere, the artistic blending of colors, the stately and imposing effect of the whole, and the grace of the details, were simply overwhelming, and greatly delighted the vast throng of worshipers. As the bishop was about to begin his sermon, the sun burst forth in splendor, and as it shone through a window, it formed a halo around the bishop's silvery locks. Every one saw this marvelous light, and turned instantly to see whence it came. It was the old man's window! Its colors were blended in marvelous beauty, and through it the sunlight poured a tide of splendor. The bishop had been told, by way of apology, about the forgotten window and the peculiar way in which the need had been supplied. A sudden inspiration seized him, and never before, as it seemed, had he preached so feelingly and so well. The rejected stone, which became the head of the corner, was the inspiring theme. Surely the window had been a work of love, and love which spoke forth unmistakably. It was undeniably the masterpiece of the temple.
He who is wise will reject only what God has not created, what is ruled out in God's Word. In these latter days, the complete revelation of Truth, called by its revelator Christian Science, is rejected by the schools, but without the Christ-healing the temple of Truth is incomplete. Does not every sincere Christian desire to be as lovely a transparency for Truth as was that window for the sun? to reflect the heavenly hues of the "Sun of righteousness . . . with healing in his wings"? As we gather up the fragments—the things rejected by mortal mind—Love will open our eyes to behold our opportunities. Every "fragment" will be tested by Truth as to its character and origin, and if not found wanting, we know that we have gained an everlasting possession, a treasure in heaven.
