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Sunday Morning and Midnight in an Ancient Temple—Sunset on the Acropolis.

WANDERING about the Elliptical Temple at Zimbabwe on a Sunday morning one is faced at every turn with texts for innumerable “sermons in stones.” The hoary age of these massive walls is grandly and silently eloquent of a dead religion—a religion which was but the blind stretching forth of the hand of faith groping in the Dawn of Knowledge for the Deity and seeking the Unknown. Lowell urges that none should call any faith “vain” which in the evolution of religion has led mankind up to a higher level. The builders were “Pagans.” Granted, but the world four thousand years ago was in its infancy, and infancy is but a necessary prelude to development in any department of life and thought. The progressive stages of Old Testament faith demonstrate this fact most patently. We of the Christian Era, with our two thousand years of religious enlightenment, have yet to learn of the “many things I have to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.” The evolution of the Christian Ideal has not yet reached its final stage—it has still to be perfected. But the period of infancy in development should not be too hastily condemned as “vain.”

The spires that adorn our churches, the orientation of ecclesiastical buildings, the eastward position of the dead, the candles on the altars, and what is more, the idea conveyed by sacrificial offering, have their origin in the ancient faiths and world-wide litholatrous and solar ideas of the Semitic peoples, whether of Yemen or Phœnicia, who built their temples in every part of the then known world which came under their influence. In these, as in many more such instances, parallelisms become identities, but identities adapted by the Christian Church to convey in an old-world form a figure of a higher faith. The continuity between this old temple at Zimbabwe, Stonehenge, and the modern cathedral, is complete.

When one reviews the forms and practices, so far as they are known, of the Semitic builders of the Great Zimbabwe, what a flood of light shines in upon the history and worship of the Hebrews. The writings of the Prophets live afresh, and the mystic chapters of Job become full of pregnant meaning. A key is provided to the secret of Abraham offering his son, to Jacob’s pile of stones, to Jephthah’s vow, to the Syro-Phœnician woman’s conversation at the well, and to a hundred points of biblical lore which would otherwise barely attract attention, much less provoke interest. These old Semites—of whom the Hebrews were a younger branch—stinted not their worship, and knew the ecstasy of sacrifice. Their best beloved they gave—their dearest, in the belief that the gift which was offered without a pang was not prized by Deity. Bearing this in mind, the Old Testament is found to be replete with unfailing interest, charm, and point; it becomes, in fact, a marvellously new book even to the biblical student.

The builders of the temple at Zimbabwe have now, it is believed, slept through three millenniums, if not four, yet the religious faith of the Semitic family was so strong, so real, and so forceful, that its ramifications can be found in the faith of the Christian Church of to-day. Nor can this be wondered at. One has but to glance round these temple walls to read in granite blocks the fact that to the builders their religious faith was of primal importance. Here is clearly envisaged the fact that to them their religion was very real, so much so that were Europe devastated to-morrow, it could scarcely show in proportion to its other buildings such monuments to religious faith as can be seen in Rhodesia to-day. Their finest art, their best constructive skill, and the patient labour of long years, were lavished upon these buildings which thickly stud the country. Thoroughness and devotion are written large on the orientated, massive, and grandly sweeping walls of the Elliptical Temple at Great Zimbabwe. One cannot call their faith “vain” when one realises that it led them out from themselves towards something higher, while for them it must be remembered the True Light had not shined. Struggling though blindly to improve their relationship to Deity provided a no mean factor in the religious progress of the world.

While these ancient Semitic colonisers of Rhodesia have slept their many-centuried sleep, what epochs of the world’s history have come and gone, and what empires have risen and decayed! Ah! see that lichen-mantled granite block low down in the cyclopean wall. It has a little chip of stone under one corner as if to steady it. The ancient mason was a careful worker. The chip is still there to-day. One can move it with a finger. Was it there when Moses led the Hebrews towards the Promised Land, or there when young Joseph was sold as a slave into Egypt? Who shall say? Civilisations have come and gone, but the chip is there, and affords not merely an evidence of the careful mason, but a sermon on the brevity of life, the utter smallness of pomp and power, and the absolute absurdity of pride. Still the little granite chip has served its purpose for some four thousand years, and it may yet be there occupying its humble position at the end of the next millennium. The oldest fanes of Europe, whether of Greece or Rome, cannot so deeply move to awe-inspiring feeling as can the massive walls of the temple at Zimbabwe, for these old empires are believed to have been almost unborn when Zimbabwe was at its zenith. Thus the walls compel a listening to their sermons.

As one strays through the Sacred Enclosure, thoughts come:—What were the relative positions of magic and religion, especially in the complicated and closely observed Phallic worship of these ancients; whence the zodiacal, astronomical, and geometrical knowledge of the builders; what of the touch of tragedy in their exodus or departure; the exact meaning of the granite, slate, and carved soapstone monoliths on the summits of the walls; the origin of the occupiers; was Rhodesia the Havilah of Genesis; did it provide the Solomonic gold; of the close kinship of these successful ancient gold-seekers from Yemen or Tyre and Sidon to the Hebrews of Palestine; and of their intimate connection in origin, language, and neighbourhood which Holy Writ abundantly declares existed from the ninth chapter of Genesis until Paul preached in Phœnicia?

Gazing at the Sacred Tower, one thinks of the Tower of Siloam, and of the “high places” of Samaria, and of the times when even this form of worship became the state religion of Judah under Ahaziah; and sitting at the conjectured site of the ancient altar, where the writer has found in numbers the stone emblems of their faith, thoughts arise of the Bethel stones of the Hebrews, the Bethûl or “the dwelling-places of God” of the Phœnicians, and the Penuel or “Face of God” of the Midianites.

The Law of Moses adapts the rules and customs and ideas and forms of worship of far greater antiquity than the Mosaic times. So the new faith of every age borrows from the old, and the mighty processions of civilisations and faiths which have encircled this earth from very far back beyond the days of Abraham go on their even course.

But we must leave the temple and return to camp. There is still the great Zimbabwe owl sitting on his favourite bough near the “high place.” The six-foot python crawls in and out of the stones of the ancient altar. Brightly coloured lizards bask on the once consecrated walls. Blue jays, honey-birds, and doves here find a shelter. The trees, orchid-clad and lichen-festooned, throw a weird shadow over all. Possibly ancients are sleeping near.

As one passes out through the entrance into the full glare of an African noontide, one feels as if one had just returned from the far distant mystic past to modern life, for a naked Makalanga waits there with the message that Sunday lunch was cooked and waiting.