Joses, who by the apostles was surnamed Barnabas.
Barnabas
Surnames become necessary as soon as men form themselves into societies. They are then no longer adequately distinguished by the simple “James” or “John,” for others also bear the same name. Some personal characteristic, therefore, has to be selected: the trade, stature, complexion, or disposition of the man will suggest a title for him; he becomes known as James the Smith, or as John the Black, and probably transmits the surname to his posterity. When our Lord chooses His apostles they have to be distinguished in this way. There is Judas Iscariot, and Judas the brother of James. There is Simon Zelotes, and Simon surnamed Peter, etc. The apostles in their turn give surnames, and in the present instance the second name thrust the first out of recollection. “Joses” is from this time known as “Barnabas” alone. Our English translation interprets the name as “the son of consolation.” Take “consolation” in a strong sense, and that is right. The word is elsewhere rendered “exhortation.” It answers to the old English use of “comfort,” in the sense of strengthening, as well as soothing, as we have it in the phrase, “the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost.”
I. We shall best understand the nacre by surveying the history. We know little of the antecedents of Barnabas. He was a native of Cyprus, the first stepping-stone across the great sea to the lands of the Gentiles. Its population was partly Greek, partly Oriental; and the kind of education which such a society would afford may have helped to make Barnabas a broader man than his brethren who had been born and bred in the closer atmosphere of Jerusalem. Tradition marks him out as among the seventy sent forth by Christ. Or he may have been one of the fruits of Pentecost. Some of those converts, we know, were “men of Cyprus and Cyrene.” His first appearance has more of action in it than of speech. It was at the moment when, under the fresh impulses of their awakening, the disciples who had “houses or lands” were parting with them for the relief of their poorer brethren. Conspicuous among them was Barnabas. It was a good beginning for a Christian ministry. “Let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth.” The interest deepens as we proceed. Six or seven years pass, and an unlooked-for and almost unwelcome proselyte presents himself. It is Saul, who finds himself an object of alarm and undisguised mistrust. The way is opening for a schism between them and this “last of the apostles,” who seeks their sympathy, but who can dispense with it, strong in his own independent authority, and in the promised presence of the Lord. There was needed at that moment some well-known and trusted leader, large-hearted enough to become surety for the former persecutor, and to stand his friend. This friend was found in Barnabas. It was he who joined Peter’s hands with Paul’s, and who told the tale of the wonderful conversion in such a manner as to dissolve all doubt. The “son of consolation” appears here at his appropriate work, reconciling those opposing forces with the sweet reasonableness of his own gentler spirit. He was selected, shortly afterwards, for a mission in which the same spirit would find scope. Tidings had reached the apostles of strange successes attending the gospel in Antioch, and they were not prepared for such an event. The baptism of Cornelius was in obedience to a direct revelation from heaven, but this larger movement appeared unauthorised, and might prove unwarranted. Barnabas was accordingly chosen to visit the spot and make inquiry. Now it is not altogether easy for any man to give unstinted commendation to a work in which he himself has had no share. He is apt to point out what might have been done better, rather than what has been done well. Finely in contrast with that tendency stands out the candid and generous behaviour of Barnabas. He “saw the grace of God,” “was glad,” and expressed himself in terms of warm congratulation and approval. Nay, he threw his own energies into the glorious enterprise, and “exhorted them all that with purpose of heart they would cleave to the Lord.” When he departed he left many further converts added to the infant Church, and the impression that “he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith.” Next we find that by his urgency Paul was brought from the seclusion of Tarsus, and introduced to the field of work which lay ready for him in Antioch. It was through his generous co-operation that the ministry of the apostle of the Gentiles found favourable opportunities of exercise. But from that hour the lustre of his name begins to pale beside the fervent and forward energy of his incomparable companion. We find in the history no trace of any jealousy; but rather tokens of a noble modesty, akin to that of the Baptist when he drew back into the shade before the perfect light of Christ. This man, who, when others shunned Paul, had become his patron and protector, laying him under no common obligation, is now content to yield the precedence, and to walk loyally and lovingly at his side. When the missionaries differed--if we have to choose between the two--surely it was Barnabas who erred upon the generous side; for what he did was to take a faint-hearted brother whom Paul was too impatient to endure, and to give him that fresh chance of honourable service which made Mark “profitable” ever afterwards to Christ and to His Church.
II. All will acknowledge the peculiar charm which attaches to the true “son of consolation.” There are men who everywhere leave behind them a sense of irritation, like winds that blow dust into face and eyes. They are the opposites to Barnabas. There was sunshine where he came. At his approach the feeble gathered strength, and trembling souls crept out of their hiding toward the light. Hard words were hushed in his company; the sternest grew gentle, and the very churl tried to be liberal. Yet it would be a mistake to suspect him of moral weakness and irresolution. The sunshine has its strength, as well as the wind, though it makes much less noise. Barnabas was once, to Paul’s great wonder, “carried away by the dissimulation” of others; but his very wonder--even Barnabas!”--shows how unusual the symptom was. For “sons of consolation” are also sons of strong encouragement, who can themselves burn against injustice or hypocrisy, and inspire others with a kindred zeal. It is significant that heathen men “called Barnabas Jupiter,” the name that embodied their poor conceptions of what was greatest and best, most fatherly, and most benignant. We recognise the presence of such men in our own generation. The temper of the moment may not tend to exalt them, or to press their example on our imitation. The sterner gifts may be mostly in request. We watch with mingled awe and admiration as some impetuous missionary spirit sweeps by, rousing the dull Church to a measure of its own activity. We applaud the controversialists, who contend for separate sides of truth, or for principles which they reckon overlooked. No doubt there is great need of them. Is there not need also of “the son of consolation,” and may he not do as good a work as they? Surely it is not below the ambition of the strongest to play the part of Barnabas among the Churches of to-day. As long as so many timid, undecided souls remain, needing the tenderest touch and a patience almost motherlike to bring them to decision; as long as there are little children to be drawn into the Saviour’s arms; as long as the Church has her backsliders to reclaim, and her doubters to direct and encourage; so long there will be ample occupation for such a man, and abundant reward. Nor will he live in vain, but rather to the highest purpose, if he be made instrumental, like Barnabas, in dissipating suspicions, and confirming friendships, between Christian brethren. (W. Brock.)
A son of consolation
While some good people are overpraised, there are others who hardly get their dues. One of these too much neglected worthies is Barnabas, the “son of consolation,” or “son of exhortation,” as some Bible scholars prefer to render it. How seldom do we hear his name mentioned either in the pulpit or the lecture-hall or anywhere else! Yet, to my fancy, he is one of the very noblest of the New Testament heroes. As a blind person may detect the presence of a rose by its fragrance, so this good man’s character exhales a peculiarly sweet perfume of godliness to those who will study it. He was just the sort of Christian needed in all our Churches in these days. The Bible is very chary of eulogies; but it does not hesitate to call him “a good man, and full of the Holy Spirit.” In some vital points he is a Christian to be copied.
1. He was a native of the island of Cyprus, which was renowned for the worship of Venus, and the very name “Cyprian” is still a synonym of impurity. But, as the brightest light is kindled on a point that comes out of a bed of charcoal, so this light-bearer of the gospel came out of a very dark region of debauchery and idolatry. His original name was Joseph; but another name was given him after his conversion to Christ. They christened him Barnabas, the son of consolation. That is a name to be proud of, and it comprehends a vast deal; it signifies a helper of the weak, a guide to the wanderer, a comforter of the sad, a succourer of the perishing, with an eye to discover misery and a hand to relieve it. My old friend William Arnot has well said that this name bespeaks a fine character. “To possess consolation is to give it; not to give it is not to possess it. The more of it you have, the more you may give; and the more you give to others, the more you retain for your own use. This circle, when it is set a-going, moves perpetually, like the sea giving out its waters to the sky, and the sky sending back the boon by rain and the rivers to the sea again.” The power of this man lay in the same quality that characterised nearly all those first converts to Christianity, and that was their superabounding sympathy. Barnabas, if in New York or Brooklyn or London now, would likely be found in a mission church for the half or the whole of every Sabbath. He would show us how to bridge the chasm between wealth and poverty, and between Christian culture and city heathenism. On many an evening during she week he `would be found beside the squalid bed of sickness, or amid the swarming outcasts of the slums. When the members of our Churches become “sons of consolation” in the broadest sense of the word, bestowing not merely their dollars, but their time, their presence, and the sympathy of their hearts upon the unchristianised masses, we shall have a primitive and Pentecostal revival. Personal sympathy is worth more to the poor, the suffering, and the neglected than silver and gold. Pulpits speak only for an hour or two, and then only to those who fill pews before them; it is by sermons in shoes--and plenty of them--that the suffering and the sinning only can be reached. The curse of too much of what passes for Christianity is itself selfishness.
2. There is another plume in the coronet of Barnabas. He was the father of systematic beneficence. We are told that having land he sold it, and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet. Having given his heart to Christ, he consecrated a goodly portion of his property to his Master’s service. Some others of the new converts may have done this as soon as he; but he is the first one mentioned. He is, therefore, to be regarded as the pioneer in that long procession of systematic givers which reaches on to our times, and numbers in its ranks the Nathaniel Ripley Cobbs and James Lenoxes and William E. Dodges, and many other bountiful stewards of the Lord; and not only they who gave of their abundance, but every conscientious Christian who gives according to his means--however humble--and gives spontaneously. Barnabas did more than fling loose money into Christ’s treasury. He sold real estate and contributed the proceeds. That looks as if there were real self-denial in the transaction, and that the man would stand a pinch for Christ’s sake. When he was converted, the work reached not only the bottom of his heart, but the bottom of his pocket. (T. L. Cuyler.)
A son of consolation
Who is the man who, in his bereavement or pain, receiving comfort from God, radiates it, so that the world is richer by the help the Lord has given him? It is the reverent, the unselfish, and the humble man. The sunlight falls upon a clod, and the clod drinks it in, is warmed by it itself, but lies as black as ever, and sheds no light. But the sun touches a diamond, and the diamond almost chills itself as it sends out in radiance on every side the light that has fallen on it. So God helps one man bear his pain, and nobody but that one man is a whit the richer. God comes to another sufferer, reverent, unselfish, humble, and the lame leap, and the dumb speak, and the wretched are comforted all around by the radiated comfort of that happy soul.
A son of consolation
I. Barnabas was a Levite, yet he possessed land, which was contrary to the old law of Israel, but probably on account of great and frequent changes it was found impossible to maintain the ancient constitution in its integrity. Barnabas was a good name; but how rife is its opposite--the son of complaint, of gloom. To such a man everything appears in its darkest colours. He sees no green on the earth, and in the heavens no blue--all is seen through the medium of a jaundiced eye. Barnabas had much comfort himself because he had much to bestow on others. If we see streams flowing to refresh a neighbourhood we argue that the spring is full. His great contributions did not embitter his spirit. The flow of bounty from that man’s hand acted as the flow of water from the drain on a ploughed field--it sweetened and made fertile the whole breadth of his life. It is the gorging up of water for want of outlet that makes the land sour and leaves it barren. Barnabas was a rich man, and therefore able to bestow practical consolation; but in thus expending his wealth he acquired the better and more enduring riches.
II. Barnabas was a Levite, yet he was a son of consolation--how unlike many of the class to which he belonged, who “despised others.” See, e.g., the parable of the Good Samaritan, Yet is not this note added to show that an order must not be blamed for the vices of individual members? Levi had a remote descendant called Caiaphas; he had another surnamed Barnabas. Let those who assail the ministry and other professions remember this.
III. Barnabas was a Levite--a religious teacher. He could administer comfort from his lips as well as from his purse. Many can only give lip comfort; what we have, then, let us give cheerfully. (W. Arnot.)
Of the country of Cyprus.--
Cyprus
An island in the Mediterranean, one hundred and sixty miles long by fifty broad. A range of mountains runs through its entire length, called Oympus by the ancients, but now known by several names. Salamis, afterwards called Constantia, was one of the principal cities, and Paphos another. The island was colonised by Phoenicians at a remote period, and afterwards divided among petty tyrants when it became subject to the Persian yoke. Next it fell under the sway of Alexander, upon whose death it fell, with Egypt, to the share of Ptolemy Lagos. In the course of time it passed over to Rome, in whose hands it was during the New Testament period. Paul and Barnabas visited the island, and preached at Salamis and Paphos, where they left Christian Churches. When the empire was divided, Cyprus became part of the Eastern section. Richard
I. took it in 1191, and sold it to the Templars, whose oppression drove the people into revolt. Richard resumed the sovereignty, and gave it to Guy of Lusignan, the expelled king of Jerusalem, in 1192. The Lusignans retained it for nearly three centuries, which was a flourishing period for Cyprus. The Venetians were its next masters, but in 1470 Selim
II. seized it. “No grass grows where the Turk sets his hoof,” and ever since ruthless despotism has wasted the fair island, so that from 1,000,000 in the days of Barnabas, the population has dwindled to 100,000. Now under British protection, and with British enterprise, capital, and missionary zeal, Cyprus may become prosperous once more. (F. A. Warrington.)
Having land, sold it, and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet.--
Practical Christian beneficence
The good Duchess of Gordon set her heart upon the erection of a school and chapel in a needy district of her neighbourhood. The Gordon estates at the time were so encumbered that she did not know where to find the necessary funds. In a letter to her friend Miss Howe, she described some of her efforts and the consequences. “I took up to London,” she says, “a gold vase that cost about £1,200 in hopes of selling it, but could not find a purchaser even at half price. I have still left it to be disposed of. The Duchess of Beaufort, hearing of my vase, thought of her diamond earrings, which she got me to dispose of, for a chapel in Wales, and her diamonds made me think of my jewels; and as the Duke has always been most anxious for the chapel, he agreed with me that stones were much prettier in a chapel wall than round one’s neck, and so he allowed me to sell £600 worth, or, rather, what brought that, for they cost me more than double. The chapel is going on nicely, and I have still enough jewels left to help to endow it, if no other way should open. I do think I may with confidence hope for a blessing on this. It is no sacrifice to me whatever, except as it is one to the Duke, who is very fond of seeing me fine, and was brought up to think it right.” The chapel cost rather more than was expected, and the Duke, following up his wife’s example, offered of his own accord to sell some of his own horses to make up the deficiency. (A. Moody Stuart, D. D.)
The profit and rule of Christian beneficence
“Since I began to obey the law,” said a thriving merchant to me, “I have not only been greatly prospered, but I have found my ability to give somewhat largely the greatest luxury of my life. The money is laid by; the call comes, and I am not tempted to the baseness of inventing excuses; I generally have something, not always enough, for every deserving appeal; I make short work of it, for time I cannot spare, and as soon as I get the facts, and am sure as to the claimant, I give him cheerfully what I think I owe to his cause.” I know another and a wealthier man, who said he and his wife had an understanding. When his wife thought they were rich enough to set up their carriage, the answer was, “Yes, my dear; it will cost just so much a year; we can afford it, and you deserve it if you approve my increasing my charities by an equal sum.” Is not this the law of Christian luxury? I can buy such a picture, or give such an entertainment, only when I give an equivalent to Christ’s poor and to the glory of His cross and crown. (Bp. Cleveland Coxe.).