The Tidings—1Sa_4:1-18
The doom upon the house of Eli, for the enormities by which the Lord’s service had been dishonored, was not first denounced through Samuel, nor was this the first warning the high-priest received. Before this a prophet had been sent to declare the judgment of God upon such high offences. That this warning had been followed by no effectual results—had not roused the old man to a more stringent exercise of that authority which belonged to the pontiff and the father, could not but give the more force to the denunciation delivered through Samuel, and the language of Eli, on that occasion, may be as much the expression of hopeless incapacity as of pious resignation. The doom consisted in the deposition of the family from the high-priesthood—the sudden death of the offenders in one day—the impoverishment and premature deaths of the family—and the doing of a deed which should “cause the ears of all that heard of it to tingle.” The event to which this last intimation has reference, has been differently understood, for there were two historical circumstances, to either of which the words would be awfully applicable. The first, the capture of the ark by the Philistines, with the death of Eli’s guilty sons in the battle, with his own death when the news came to Shiloh, together with that of his daughter-in-law, in giving premature birth to a son; the other, that of the slaughter of the seventy priests at Nob, by the order of Saul, at a later date, which nearly effected the extinction of Eli’s house.
Without pretending to determine to which of these events this remarkable denunciation refers, the former of them is that which demands our present attention.
A war arose with the Philistines—from what immediate cause we know not—and the armies confronted each other in battle. In the first action the Israelites were beaten with the loss of four thousand men. This result was received by the “elders of Israel” in a right spirit, in so far as it was ascribed to the absence of that Divine protection which would have rendered Israel victorious. But the inference was very mistaken, that if they had the ark of the covenant among them, they would be assured of the Lord’s favoring presence therewith, and victory could not then fail to crown their arms. They, no doubt, remembered that the Israelites were formerly successful against their enemies when the ark was with their armies, Num_31:6, Jos_6:6; but they forgot that this was not simply because the ark was present, but because the Lord was with them. And now, instead of inquiring what there was wrong in their faith or conduct, which had drawn down the Lord’s displeasure, and for which they might humble themselves before him, they think to settle the matter by a cheap ceremonial. “Much like hereunto,” as an old commentator remarks, Note: Willet, Harmonie upon the First Book of Samuel, 1614. was the “superstitious practice of the papists, who, in time of common calamities, as the pestilence and unseasonable weather, would goe about in procession in the streetes, with their pix and the host, as though there were vertue in such ceremonies to appease the wrath of God.”
With truer faith—a faith rising gloriously above external symbols—David, in a later age, refused to allow the ark to be removed with him in his retreat from Jerusalem, but chose rather to leave it there in the hands of his enemies. The priests had even brought it forth without the city, when he directed them to “carry the ark of God back into the city. If I shall find favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and show me both it and his habitation: But if he thus say, I have no delight in thee, behold here I am, let him do to me as seemeth good unto him,” 2Sa_15:25-26.
We must not, however, overlook in the measure now taken, the providence of God, by which the guilty priests were thus drawn to their doom—to perish both in one day. The ark being removed, it was necessary that they should attend it to the scene of action, and there they fell, by the sword of the Philistines, in that day when the ark of God was taken. No such result was, however, anticipated, when the ark, borne in solemn state, with the train of priests and Levites, was seen slowly advancing towards the camp. The host of Israel hailed it with exulting shouts, as if their triumph were now secure. Their enemies, on the other hand, regarded it with downcast hearts. In their gross materialism—scarcely more gross, however, than that of the Israelites themselves—they regarded the ark as the god of the Israelites, or at least as the symbol with which the presence of their God was inseparably connected; and, remembering the wonders which had been wrought by that God for this people, in Egypt, and in the wilderness, they were filled with dismay, and anticipated nothing but ruin and disaster. The impression made upon them, at this distant day, by those ancient miracles, shows how materially those manifestations of the Lord’s presence with his people, and of the irresistible might exerted on their behalf, must have facilitated their original conquest of the land. The Philistines, however, although alarmed, did not lose all spirit. Though the impression made upon them was very deep, the inference they drew—but which we should scarcely have anticipated from the consternation they expressed—was that of brave men whom the desperateness of the emergency moved only to more heroic exertions. “Be strong, and quit yourselves like men, O ye Philistines, that ye be not servants to the Hebrews, as they have been to you.” It was the Lord’s purpose that they should conquer in this war, and therefore were they thus inspirited to accomplish the purposes of his will. They did conquer. Israel was defeated—the priests were slain—the ark was taken. Thus did the Lord rebuke the vain confidence of the Israelites, and the dishonor they had brought upon his name before the Philistines, by the sanction which their proceedings had given to the pagan delusion, that the presence of God was inseparably connected with aught made with hands. In proportion as men neglect or misapprehend the thing signified, they take to render exaggerated honors to the sign or symbol. The ark was becoming an idol; and therefore the ark was suffered to be made captive by the unbelievers.
Still the ark was a sacred thing. It was the visible cynosure of a worship which was, in its forms, symbolical and ritual; and above it, in its place, the clouded radiance which indicated the Divine presence, visibly abode. Apart, therefore, from the false notions concerning it which had crept in, the loss of it might well be felt as a national calamity. It was so felt. The right-minded might tremble at the thought of the dishonor brought upon the Lord’s great name in the eyes of the heathen, who would not fail to consider that their own gods had at length triumphed over the great and dreadful Jehovah of the Israelites.
Many hearts waited, with unusual anxiety, the tidings from the battle. Among them was the blind old Eli, who caused his seat to be set by the wayside, that he might catch the first tidings that might come from the war, “for his heart trembled for the ark of God.” His sons were there; but it was not for them his heart trembled—he trembled for the ark. He was not, however, the first to receive the tidings. It was spread through the town before he heard it—for every one was reluctant to impart it to him. But he heard the stir and the lamentations through the city; and asked what this meant. The messenger, a man of Benjamin (some Jews think it was Saul), a fugitive from the battle, with his clothes rent, and earth strewn upon his head, as the bearer of heavy tidings, then came before him. Eli’s blindness spared him the sight of these ominous indications. But let us note what passed. “The man said to Eli, I am he that came out of the army, and I fled today out of the army. And he said, What is there done, my son? And the messenger answered and said, Israel is fled before the Philistines—and there hath been a great slaughter also among the people—and thy two sons, also, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead—and the ark of God is taken. And it came to pass, when he made mention of the ark of God, that he fell from his seat backward, by the side of the gate, and his neck brake, and he died.”
The manner in which this sad tale is told, far excels anything of the kind which the wide range of literature can furnish. It is one of those traits of pure and simple grandeur in which the Scriptures are unequalled. The learned Madame Dacier compares these words, “Thy two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead, and the ark of God is taken,” with those of Antilochus, who brings to Achilles the tidings of the death of his friend Patroclus—
“Patroclus is no more. The Grecians fight
For his bare corse, and Hector hath his arms,”
and she quotes the gloss of Eustathius upon this passage of Homer. “This speech of Antilochus,” says this critic, “may be cited as a model of emphatic brevity in announcing tidings so terrible, for in two verses it contains all that really can be told: the death of Patroclus—by whom he was slain—the combat around his corpse—and that his arms were in the hands of the enemy. The tragic poets of Greece have not always imitated this grand simplicity; and Euripides, in particular, has the fault of making long recitals on trifling occasions. But Homer only, in this, ought to be followed. In great distresses, nothing is more absurd than for a messenger to impart his tidings in long discourses and pathetic descriptions. He speaks without being understood, for those to whom he addresses himself have no time or heart to pay attention. The first word which enables them to apprehend the calamity is enough to them, and they are deaf to all besides.” Now this Homeric rule of fit brevity in messages of grief, is still more strongly, and with more exquisite propriety, exemplified in the Scriptures, which abound in passages unapproachable, even by Homer, for significant brevity and sublime abruptness; and is particularly observable in respect of those very cases, where, according to this sagacious canon of criticism, diffuse narration would have been unseemly and inappropriate. And notwithstanding that, in regard to such a book as the Bible, the literary beauties are of secondary importance, —the secondary matters of the Bible surpass in interest the first matters of other things; and although we do not, as the Mohammedans with their Koran, point to the mere literary composition of the Bible as a standing miracle, and a sufficient evidence of Divine authority, it is not the less advantageous and pleasurable to us to be able to show, that the book of God, though its various truths come to us through the necessarily imperfect channel of human language, surpasses in manner, no less than in matter, all other books.
Autor: JOHN KITTO