Unearthing the World of Jesus

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Synagogue at Magdala (Photo by Yadid Levy, Smithsonian Magazine)

In January, Smithsonian Magazine ran a great article on excavations at Magdala and Bethsaida that bring new evidence to light concerning the world of 1st Century  Galilee.  Below is an extract; click through the link at the bottom to read more.

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Ariel Sabar, “Unearthing the World of Jesus”

The IAA archaeologists had mucked around on Solana’s 20 acres for a month and found little. “Almost done?” he’d ask, emerging in his clerical robes from a shipping container that served as a makeshift office. “I have a budget! I have a timetable!”

In truth, the archaeologists didn’t want to be there either. Summer temperatures had ticked into the 100s, and the site prickled with bees and mosquitoes. They’d say shalom, they assured the priest, as soon as they checked a final, remote corner of his land.

It was there, beneath a wing of the proposed guesthouse, that their picks clinked against the top of a buried wall.

Dina Avshalom-Gorni, an IAA official who oversaw digs in northern Israel, ordered all hands to this square of the excavation grid. The workers squatted in the mealy soil and dusted carefully with brushes. Soon, a series of rough-cut stone benches emerged around what looked like a sanctuary.

It can’t be, Avshalom-Gorni thought.

The Gospels say that Jesus taught and “proclaimed the good news” in synagogues “throughout all Galilee.” But despite decades of digging in the towns Jesus visited, no early first-century synagogue had ever been found.

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For historians, this was not a serious problem. Galilean Jews were a week’s walk from Jerusalem, close enough for regular pilgrimages to Herod the Great’s magnificent temple, Judaism’s central house of worship. Galileans, mostly poor peasants and fishermen, had neither the need nor the funds for some local spinoff. Synagogues, as we understand them today, did not appear anywhere in great numbers until several hundred years later. If there were any in Galilee in Jesus’s day, they were perhaps just ordinary houses that doubled as meeting places for local Jews. Some scholars argued that the “synagogues” in the New Testament were nothing more than anachronisms slipped in by the Gospels’ authors, who were writing outside Galilee decades after Jesus’s death.

But as Avshalom-Gorni stood at the edge of the pit, studying the arrangement of benches along the walls, she could no longer deny it: They’d found a synagogue from the time of Jesus, in the hometown of Mary Magdalene. Though big enough for just 200 people, it was, for its time and place, opulent. It had a mosaic floor; frescoes in pleasing geometries of red, yellow and blue; separate chambers for public Torah readings, private study and storage of the scrolls; a bowl outside for the ritual washing of hands.

In the center of the sanctuary, the archaeologists unearthed a mysterious stone block, the size of a toy chest, unlike anything anyone had seen before. Carved onto its faces were a seven-branched menorah, a chariot of fire and a hoard of symbols associated with the most hallowed precincts of the Jerusalem temple. The stone is already seen as one of the most important discoveries in biblical archaeology in decades. Though its imagery and function remain in the earliest stages of analysis, scholars say it could lead to new understandings of the forces that made Galilee such fertile ground for a Jewish carpenter with a world-changing message. It could help explain, in other words, how a backwater of northern Israel became the launching pad for Christianity.

But on that dusty afternoon, Solana had no way of knowing this. He was toweling off after a swim when an IAA archaeologist named Arfan Najar called his cellphone with what seemed like the worst possible news: They’d found something, and everything Solana had worked and prayed for these past five years was on hold.

“Father,” Najar told him, “you have a big, big, big problem.”

Read more: Smithsonian Magazine, Unearthing the World of Jesus

A Poem for Good Friday: George Herbert, “The Sacrifice”

“The Sacrifice,” from The Temple, by the 17th Century Anglican poet and priest, George Herbert (1593-1633).  A beautifully moving poem for Good Friday.


 

Oh all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;
To me, who took eyes that I might you finde:

Was ever grief like mine?

The Princes of my people make a head
Against their Maker: they do wish me dead,
Who cannot wish, except I give them bread:

Was ever grief like mine?

Without me each one, who doth now me brave,
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.
They use that power against me, which I gave:

Was ever grief like mine?

Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare,
Though he had all I had, did not forbeare
To sell me also, and to put me there:

Was ever grief like mine?

For thirtie pence he did my death devise,
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize,
Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice:

Was ever grief like mine?

Therefore my soul melts, and my hearts deare treasure
Drops bloud (the onely beads) my words to measure:
O let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure:

Was ever grief like mine?

These drops being temper’d with a sinners tears,
A Balsome are for both the Hemispheres:
Curing all wounds, but mine; all, but my fears:

Was ever grief like mine?

Yet my Disciples sleep: I cannot gain
One houre of watching; but their drowsie brain
Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:

Was ever grief like mine?

Arise, arise, they come. Look how they runne.
Alas! what haste they make to be undone!
How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne!

Was ever grief like mine?

With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the way of truth, the true relief;
Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:

Was ever grief like mine?

Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse?
Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misse
Of life, just as the gates of life and blisse?

Was ever grief like mine?

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands
Of faith, but furie: yet at their commands
I suffer binding, who have loos’d their bands:

Was ever grief like mine?

All my Disciples flie; fear puts a barre
Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre,
That brought the wise men of the East from farre.

Was ever grief like mine?

Then from one ruler to another bound
They leade me; urging, that it was not sound
What I taught: Comments would the text confound

Was ever grief like mine?

The Priest and rulers all false witnesse seek
’Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek
And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week:

Was ever grief like mine?

Then they accuse me of great blasphemie,
That I did thrust into the Deitie,
Who never thought that any robberie:

Was ever grief like mine?

Some said, that I the Temple to the floore
In three dayes raz’d, and raised as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:

Was ever grief like mine?

Then they condemne me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:

Was ever grief like mine?

They binde, and leade me unto Herod: he
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree;
But yet their friendship is my enmitie:

Was ever grief like mine?

Herod and all his bands do set me light,
Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight,
And onely am the Lord of hosts and might:

Was ever grief like mine?

Herod in judgement sits, while I do stand;
Examines me with a censorious hand:
I him obey, who all things else command:

Was ever grief like mine?

The Jews accuse me with despitefulnesse;
And vying malice with my gentlenesse,
Pick quarrels with their onely happinesse:

Was ever grief like mine?

I answer nothing, but with patience prove
If stonie hearts will melt with gentle love.
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?

Was ever grief like mine?

My silence rather doth augment their crie;
My dove doth back into my bosome flie,
Because the raging waters still are high:

Was ever grief like mine?

Heark how they crie aloud still, Crucifie:
It is not fit he live a day, they crie,
Who cannot live lesse then eternally:

Was ever grief like mine?

Pilate a stranger holdeth off; but they,
Mine own deare people, cry, Away, away,
With noises confused frighting the day:

Was ever grief like mine?

Yet still they shout, and crie, and stop their eares,
Putting my life among their sinnes and fears,
And therefore wish my bloud on them and theirs:

Was ever grief like mine?

See how spite cankers things. These words aright
Used, and wished, are the whole worlds light:
But hony is their gall, brightnesse their night:

Was ever grief like mine?

They choose a murderer, and all agree
In him to do themselves a courtesie:
For it was their own cause who killed me:

Was ever grief like mine?

And a seditious murderer he was:
But I the Prince of peace; peace that doth passe
All understanding, more then heav’n doth glasse:

Was ever grief like mine?

Why, Cesar is their onely King, not I:
He clave the stonie rock, when they were drie;
But surely not their hearts, as I well trie:

Was ever grief like mine?

Ah! how they scourge me! yet my tendernesse
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitternesse
Windes up my grief to a mysteriousnesse.

Was ever grief like mine?

They buffet me, and box me as they list,
Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist,
And never yet, whom I would punish, miss’d;

Was ever grief like mine?

Behold, they spit on me in scornfull wise,
Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies,
Leaving his blindnesse to mine enemies:

Was ever grief like mine?

My face they cover, though it be divine.
As Moses face was vailed, so is mine,
Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:

Was ever grief like mine?

Servants and abjects flout me; they are wittie:
Now prophesie who strikes thee, is their dittie.
So they in me denie themselves all pitie:

Was ever grief like mine?

And now I am deliver’d unto death,
Which each one cals for so with utmost breath,
That he before me well nigh suffereth:

Was ever grief like mine?

Weep not, deare friends, since I for both have wept
When all my tears were bloud, the while you slept:
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:

Was ever grief like mine?

The souldiers lead me to the common hall;
There they deride me, they abuse me all:
Yet for twelve heav’nly legions I could call:

Was ever grief like mine?

Then with a scarlet robe they me aray;
Which shews my bloud to be the onely way,
And cordiall left to repair mans decay:

Was ever grief like mine?

Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:
For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear,
Though I my vine planted and watred there:

Was ever grief like mine?

So sits the earths great curse in Adams fall
Upon my head: so I remove it all
From th’ earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:

Was ever grief like mine?

Then with the reed they gave to me before,
They strike my head, the rock from whence all store
Of heav’nly blessings issue evermore:

Was ever grief like mine?

They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail king:
What ever scoffes or scornfulnesse can bring,
I am the floore, the sink, where they it fling:

Was ever grief like mine?

Yet since mans scepters are as frail as reeds,
And thorny all their crowns, bloudie their weeds;
I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds:

Was ever grief like mine?

The souldiers also spit upon that face,
Which Angels did desire to have the grace,
And Prophets once to see, but found no place:

Was ever grief like mine?

Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout,
Who Crucifie him, crie with one strong shout.
God holds his peace at man, and man cries out:

Was ever grief like mine?

They leade me in once more, and putting then
Mine own clothes on, they leade me out agen.
Whom devils flie, thus is he toss’d of men:

Was ever grief like mine?

And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosse
All spite in one, counting my life their losse,
They carrie me to my most bitter crosse:

Was ever grief like mine?

My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint:
Then Simon bears it for me by constraint,
The decreed burden of each mortall Saint:

Was ever grief like mine?

O all ye who passe by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree;
The tree of life to all, but onely me:

Was ever grief like mine?

Lo, here I hang, charg’d with a world of sinne,
The greater world o’ th’ two; for that came in
By words, but this by sorrow I must win:

Was ever grief like mine?

Such sorrow, as if sinfull man could feel,
Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel,
Till all were melted, though he were all steel:

Was ever grief like mine?

But, O my God, my God! why leav’st thou me,
The sonne, in whom thou dost delight to be?
My God, my God –

Never was grief like mine.

Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound;
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound;
Reproches, which are free, while I am bound.

Was ever grief like mine?

Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down,
Alas! I did so, when I left my crown
And fathers smile for you, to feel his frown:

Was ever grief like mine?

In healing not my self, there doth consist
All that salvation, which ye now resist;
Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist:

Was ever grief like mine?

Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robberie suffereth.
Alas! what have I stollen from you? death:

Was ever grief like mine?

A king my title is, prefixt on high;
Yet by my subjects am condemn’d to die
A servile death in servile companie:

Was ever grief like mine?

They gave me vineger mingled with gall,
But more with malice: yet, when they did call,
With Manna, Angels food, I fed them all:

Was ever grief like mine?

They part my garments, and by lot dispose
My coat, the type of love, which once cur’d those
Who sought for help, never malicious foes:

Was ever grief like mine?

Nay, after death their spite shall further go;
For they will pierce my side, I full well know;
That as sinne came, so Sacraments might flow:

Was ever grief like mine?

But now I die; now all is finished.
My wo, mans weal: and now I bow my head.
Onely let others say, when I am dead,

Never was grief like mine.


HT: Gene Edward Veith

 

 

A Black Country Nativity (Michael Prescott, 1968)

The following was originally published in the British Regional newspaper, The Express & Star, in 1968, by Michael Prescott, a Sunday School teacher who had moved to England’s Black Country region, and was taken by the region’s dialect.  He had his students tell Bible stories in their own words, and recorded them as follows:

There was this girl called Mary and er lived in a place called Nazareth. One day er mum went out an er was left do do the ousewerk.

All a sudden the room went all bright and when er turned round er saw somebody standin by the winder. Er wor arf surprised and nearly fell off er chair.

“Oom you?” er asked, “yo day arf gie me a tern.”

“Doh be scared,” answered the bloke. “I wo urt ya. Me name’s Gabriel, an arm an angel.”

“Yo ay, am yer?” said Mary.

“I am,” ee replied. “An I’ve cum to tell ya summat.

“What?” said Mary, cause er was thinking what a carry on this was.

“Yo’m gooin ter av a babby,” said the angel.

That shook er, and er looked at im an said: “Doh be saft. I ay marrid.”

“That do mek no difference,” ee answered. “If God says yo’ll av a babby, yo’ll ava a babby, yo will an that’s it. Yo’ve got ter call im Jesus.”

Mary was still a bit shook, so the angel said: “An arl tell yer summat else. Yo ay the only one oos gooin to ave a babby. Yer cousin Elizabeth is gooin ter ave one an all, an er’s an old woman.”

“Well, if you say so, ar suppose that’s it,” said Mary. “Ar cor do anythin about it, but me chap wo arf be surprised.”

When eed gone, Mary sat fer a bit an thought about it, then er med up er mind to goo and see Elizabeth. So er ad a swill an went off ter Juda.

When er got there, Elizabeth was waiting at the gate an when er saw Mary er said: “Ar ay arf glad to see yo, but fancy yo cummin to see we in yor state.”

Mary answered: “An angel cum an sid me, an arm gooin to av a babby in December.”

They went into the ouse an Elizabeth med a cup of tay. Er told Mary that er old man, Zacharias, day believe er when er told him about th3e babby, an ee were speechless. “Ee cor spake a werd now,” er said.

The chap what mary was engaged to was called Joseph. When Mary told im about the babby er was having, ee day knwo what to think. Ee said: “Yor mum wo arf kick up a chow row. Er’s bound to blame me. An they wo arf rattle down our street. It ay good enough.”

Any road, ee day get is air off, an when ee went ter bed that night, an angel cum to im in a dream. “Doh get mad at Mary about the babby,” ee told im. “It’s God’s son er’s avin, an is name’s Jesus. Sumbody’s got ter av im, or ee wo get born, an yower Mary was picked. So just yo marry er, me mate. There ay nuthin ter worry about.”

Soon after they was married, Joseph cum in an told Mary: “Arv ad a letter from the tax mon, and that Ceasar of owrn says as we’ve got to goo to wheer we was born to be taxed. So we’ve go to traipse all the way to Bethlehem next wick.”

Mary cut sum sandwiches an packed a few cairkes an opples. Then er med a bottle a tay, (then the thermoses then) an when they’d ad a daysent breakfast, Joseph got the donkey out, put Mary on, an away they went.

“Cheer up, our kid. It ay far now,” Joseph told er.

“Yo can see teh lapms in Bethlehem down the road. We’ll soon av a rest. I shore be sorry neither. I keep gettin bricks an sond in me sandals.”

When they got into town, Joseph knocked on the door of an inn an asked for a double room. The bloke what answered said: “I cor elp yer,. There’s that mony on em eere they’m avin ter sleep in the passage.”

The next un was like it an all, but Joseph said to the chap: “Aint there anywhere we can goo? My missus is out theer on a donkey, an er’s gooin ter av a babby soon.”

The chap scratched his yed, then ee ad an idea. Ee said: “We cleaned the stable out after tay, so it ay mucky. If I shift a couple of osses an a camel, you could kip down theer.”

Joseph day even bother to ask Mary. Ee said: “We’ll tek it,” straight off.

In the noight, Mary woke Joseph up an said: “The babby’s ere.” So Jesus was born, an they wrapped im up tight an put im in the manger what the osses et out on. Mary an Joseph wor arf proud. the innkeeper cum with is missus an brought Mary sum ot milk.

They thought Jesus was a bostin little lad an the innkeeper said to Joseph: “Yo’d better cum an av a drink to wet is yed.” So he did. The innkeeper’s wife told em all: “There’s a woman out theer just ad a babby,” er said,”an if ony o yo lot kick up a racket, yo’m out.”

Up in the ills, there was sum shepherds luckin after the sheep. It was cold, so they was sittin by the fire lettin their dogs do the werk while they ad summat to eat an a smoke.

Suddenly the sky lit up loike bonfire noight, an an angel cum. They day know owt about angels and they was that frittened they all fell on the ground.

“Yo’m a silly lot,” said the angel. “I shore urt yer. I got a message for yer. There’s a baby bin born in Bethlehem. Is name is Jesus an ees God’s son. Goo an ave a look at im. Ee’s in a stable lyin in a manger.” The shepherds cum donw the ill into Bethleheman they kep on about the angels. One said: “Fancy angels cummin to we. We ay nobody. It ay as if we’m important.”

Another agreed an said: “It wor arf a good tune what hey sung, but I cor remember the words, con you?”

“Summat about glory an God in the ighest,” answered is mate. “When we get back we’ll try an get it writ down between we.” They must av or we wouldn’t know it.

Any road up, they cum to the town. One on em said: “It’s or roight im sayin we’ll find the babby in a stable, but they’m all over the plairce. We cud be looking for wicks.”

Is friend snapped at im: “Why doh yo shut yer moanin? Us two’ll look this soide, an yo pair look the other.” Another said: “It ay much use lookin in stables what’m shut. An if there’s a new babby, they’ll a the loight on.”

Then they eard their mates whistle an they fun em outside a stable built in a cave. Someone whispered: “Doh mek such a clatter. We’m ere.” One knocked on the door and Mary called: “Come in.” They took off their ats an went in on tip toe. The chief shepherd said: “Adoo missus. A angel tode we ter cum an see yower babby.”

Mary smiled and beckoned them in. Joseph said: “Eere ee is. Cum an look, but mind you doh breathe on is face.” The shepherds knelt down round the manger an looked. “Ay ee tiny?” said the youngest. “an ay ee got little onds?”

“Course ee’s tiny, yo saft ayporth,” said the leader, “ee’s new, ay ee?”

“I know that,” said the young un, “but you cor imagine God bein little, can yer?”

Mary smiled an said: “Oil spin sum wool an knit im a jumper, an is dad’ll play the flute ter mek him sleep.”

The shepherds turned to goo, an little Jesus smiled. The leader said after as it wind, an all babbies did it, but ee wor as sure as ee med out. While all this was a-gooin on, three wise kings was in a country far away lookin at stars. Suddenly, one on em put down is telescope an called: “cum eer yo lot. Oi’ve fun a star wot wor theer afore, and it ay arf a big un.”

“Yo’m roight mate,” they said then they looked. “Oil bet it’s that one what’s to tell us a new king was born.” They checked up an it was.

One day, they cum to Jerusalem an went up to the Palace an knocked on the door. A sentry opened it an they asked: “Is the King in?” The sentry said: “Arf a mo, Oil goo an see.”

The King’s name was Erod, an ee was in. “There’s three kings to see yo,” the soldier told im. “Oh ar?” said Erod. “Weer?” Ee ad a fit when the soldier told im “Outside.”

“Yo cor leave kings standin on the step,” said Erod. “Get em in.”

So they all come in, an Erod said ow noice to see em an wot cud ee do fer emn. they said they was looking fer a new king, and wondered if ee was theer.

Erod said: “Ee ay ere, but when yo’ve fun im, drop in on the way back so’s Oi can goo anay a look meself.”

They said “Righto,” an off they went. When they’d gone, Erod said to isself: “Theer’s ony room fer one king ere, an Oi’m it. When Oi know weer the new un is, Oi’ll have im killed.”

The star stopped over the ouse where Jesus was, an the kings day worry cos it wor a Palace. They went in an knelt down by Jesus an gid him their gold, frankincense and myrhh.

Mary looked at the presents an said: “Thank yo, they’m smashin, but Oi’ll keep em till ee’s bigger, if yo doh moind.” The kings took off their crowns and bowed.

Then they said: “Tarrah abit,” an went all the way back wum. But they day goo back past Erod’s palace cos a angel ad told em what a awful bloke Erod was, an ow ee wanted to kill the little Jesus.

Reblogged: “Short and Good Counsel to be Frequently Considered by Those Who are in Deep Straits and Grievous Temptation”

The linked below is an excerpt from Wilhelm Löhe’s Seed-Grains of Prayer: A Manual for Evangelical Christians (trans. H. A. Weller, Benjamin T. Mayes; Orwigsburg (1916), Kansas City, Emmanuel Press (2006, 2010)) posted by my friend T. David on his blog at Pseudepigraphus last month (check it out–he finds a lot of great theological writing).

From Short and Good Counsel to be Frequently Considered by Those Who are in Deep Straits and Grievous Temptation:

141. Short and Good Counsel to be Frequently Considered by Those who are in Deep Straits and Grievous Temptation

1.) Stand not unto thyself, and govern thyself not according to thy feelings; for he that dependeth upon his own heart is a fool.

2.) Dwell not upon thine own thoughts nor sink and en- tangle thyself into them, else thou castest thyself into the camp of theenemy that besieges thy soul.

3.) Keep not thy sufferings thyself; but seek and confide fully and quickly in thy more experienced pastor.

4.) Cleave unto the words which are spoken to thee in God’s name. Consider them in thy heart. Repeat them again and again anddirect the thoughts and emotions of thy heart to them.

5.) Especially, let nothing make thee forget nor doubt these three passages:

a. The word of Isaiah, 49:14-16; concerning God’s faithful remembrance of us:

“Zion said, the Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me. Can a woman forget her sucking child, that sheshould not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graventhee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.”

b. The word according to John 10:28; concerning the security of the soul in the hands of Jesus:

“I give unto my sheep eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.”

c. The word according to Matthew 10:28-31; concerning the security of the body in the hands of Jesus:

“Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both souland body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without yourFather. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than manysparrows.”

6.) In moments of sore temptation, above all other times, neglect not the preaching of the Gospel, which is the power of God,rejoicing the soul.

7.) Neglect not to pray, even if it seem unto thee as if thou wert attempting to draw a load that is too heavy. James says, 5:13: “Isany among you afflicted? let him pray.” Especially pray the 51st Psalm, vv. I2-I4: “Uphold me with Thy free spirit;” and Psalm 142.

8.) When thou feelest as if courage were at an end, begin to sing Psalms and spiritual hymns. This is very offensive to Satan and exertsa wonderful power upon troubled souls. Especially to he recommended are the Hymns of Praise. The prayer of praise will oft’ attainwhat no prayer of entreating sighs may gain. At times it immediately draws one out of his distress. If thou canst not thyself sing, letothers sing for thee.

9.) When thou prayest take heed lest thou in any wise desire to be released of thy trial without or against the will of God. Sayjoyfully, or at least firmly, “If I shall drink this cup, dear Father, let Thy will be done.”

10.) Do not for one moment conceive that thou art the only one under so great trial. In Peter’s first Epistle, 4:12, thou learnest thatsuch trials are common; and, in the same Epistle, 5:8, 9, that like sufferings come upon thy brethren which are in the world. When aman begins to imagine that he alone is suffering, or that his sufferings are greater than those of others it is a sign of secret vanity.

11.) Thou shalt thank God for His visitation upon thee. Temptation teaches to give heed unto the Word, and blessed is the man thatendureth (James 1:2, 4, 12). Many one, if he but knew how great good unto him is hidden under his trials, would gladly giveup all his days of joy for them.

12.) Meet thy temptations not idly. Idleness breeds and multiplies many temptations which had otherwise never come, not abodelong if they came. Small is the hope for recovery of an able man tempted, if, when his temptation comes, he leaves the work of hiscalling undone or but half done.

13.) When thou art tempted, flee from solitude and seek the companionship of godly, joyful people. Few people can, without injuryto themselves, live constantly in great companies, and less are they who can live in constant solitude without harm. God created menfor each other.

14.) Many trials have their origin in a diseased body. If, therefore, an experienced pastor advises thee to seek the services of aphysician, do not neglect that advice; but use the treatment prescribed with a prayer for God’s benediction upon such use.

15.) Consider these recommendations diligently. Let them guide and comfort thee; and may God grant thee peace. Amen.

Follow the link above to read more from Löhe on Pseudipigraphus.

If you would like to read more of Löhe’s advice and devotions, you can purchase a copy of Seed-Grains of Prayer from Emmanuel Press here.  There is also a page-scan of the 1914 printing on Archive.org.