ather than his
contemporaries. Before the giving of the older covenant from Sinai, it is
said that Moses was required "to sanctify the people and bid them wash
their garments" (Ex. xix. 10). John was proclaiming the establishment of a
new covenant, as the prophets had promised. That the people should prepare
for this by a similar bath of sanctification seems most natural. John
appeared with a revival of the older and simpler religious ideas of
Israel's past, deriving his rite as well as his thought from the springs
of his people's religious life.

83. This revival of the prophetic past had nothing scholastic or
antiquarian about it. John was a disciple, not an imitator, of the great
men of Israel; his message was not learned from Isaiah or any other,
though he was educated by studying them. What he declared, he declared as
truth immediately seen by his own soul, the essence of his power being a
revival, not in letter but in spirit, of the old, direct cry, "Thus saith
the Lord." Inasmuch as John's day was otherwise hopelessly in bondage to
tradition and the study of the letter, by so much is his greatness
enhanced in bringing again God's direct message to the human conscience.
John's greatness was that of a pioneer. The Friend of publicans and
sinners also spoke a simple speech to human hearts; he built on and
advanced from the old prophets, but it was John who was appointed to
prepare the people for the new life, "to make ready the way of the Lord"
(Mark i. 3). The clearness of his perception of truth is not the least of
his claims to greatness. His knowledge of the simplicity of God's
requirements in contrast with the hopeless maze of pharisaic traditions,
and his insight into the characters with whom he had to deal, whether the
sinless Jesus or the hypocritical Pharisees, show a man marvellously
gifted by God who made good use of his gift. This greatness appears in
superlative degree in the self-effacement of him who possessed these
powers. Greatness always knows itself more or less fully. It was not
self-ignorance that led John to claim to be but a voice, nor was it mock
humility. The confession of his unworthiness in comparison with the
mightier one who should follow is unmistakably sincere, as is the
completed joy of this friend of the bridegroom rejoicing greatly because
of the bridegroom's voice, even when the bridegroom's presence meant the
recedence of the friend into ever deepening obscurity (John iii. 30).