Ichabod—1Sa_4:21
The deep concern evinced by some persons at the loss of the symbol of Jehovah’s presence, which constituted the highest distinction and most sacred treasure of Israel, is very affecting, and affords a most impressive and gratifying indication of the exalted and just views and feelings by which the hearts of some superior persons were animated. We have seen Eli fall to the ground and die, when he heard that the ark of God was taken—it being doubtful, as Bishop Hall quaintly remarks, whether his heart or his neck were first broken.
The same tidings wrought in the same family another death. The wife of one of the doomed priests, Phinehas, herself unnamed, although worthy of being held in lasting remembrance, was with child, and near to be delivered, when the doleful tidings of Israel’s overthrow, and the capture of God’s ark, came to Shiloh. Her husband’s death—her father-in-law’s death—the ruin of Israel—the capture of God’s ark, threw her into such distress of mind, that her pains came suddenly upon her, and terminated her life. She appears to have been a woman of great tenderness of spirit, and of still greater piety. She felt deeply—how deeply, we may judge from the effects—the successive calamities that had taken place; but, like Eli himself, she felt most of all the one the messenger had last mentioned—the capture of the ark. Her father-in-law was dead. True; but his death was to be expected soon in the course of nature, and the loss could be repaired; for there would not be wanting a high-priest in the house of God. Her husband lay dead on the battle field, his priestly raiment defiled in dust and stained with blood. True; but his offence was rank; his sins, some of them, had not only been public wrongs, but private wrongs to her. But still in the deep caverns of her womanly heart, there lingered much love to the husband of her youth, the father of her children; and the loss of him—his life quenched in blood, would, under any ordinary circumstances, have been a devouring grief. As it was, it no doubt hastened the time of her travail; but it is clear, from her dying words, that a concern for the interests of religion, occasioned by the loss of the ark, lay nearest to her soul. This was the master-grief, in whose presence the others became pale.
The women around her bed sought to rouse her from her dying lethargy, by the most glad tidings a Hebrew woman could learn—“Fear not; for thou hast borne a son!” But, it is emphatically added, “She answered not, neither did she regard it.” But as her last moment came, she roused herself so far as to indicate the name the child was to bear—by that name making him a living memorial of her despairing grief. She called his name I-chabod—which means without glory: saying—“The glory is departed from Israel!” and with these words upon her lips, she died. That glory having departed, there was nothing of joy or hope for life to offer to her; it only remained for her to die.
This is a noble and refreshing example of deep concern, manifested even unto death, for the glory of God, and the well-being of his church. It is refreshing, because any experience of the sort has become rare in these latter days, in which the supreme anxiety of men, is to get on, to do well in the world, to thrive; and concern for the glory of God is a subordinate and tempered feeling, calling forth very little of that burning ardor, that restlessness of zeal and labor, in which the matters belong, more or less, to this life, are studied and pursued. No doubt there is abroad in the Christian world a certain kind of zeal for the glory of God. But how few are there in whom that zeal reigns paramount, above all the interests that belong to earth—in whom that zeal is as a burning fire shut up in their bones, which makes them weary with forbearing, which allows them no rest so long as their Lord’s great name is unglorified, or his cause does not prosper.
Look at this woman; and if an instance of real patriotism, of true public spirit, be wanted, behold it here! and let the just admiration which it excites, teach us that it is not proper, far less is it godly, that the chief of our care should be given to the concernments of our private condition, or the affairs of our party, our sect, or our town. We have among us God’s spiritual ark. Dangers often threaten it—clouds often obscure the luster of its most fine gold—at times it seems as if it were going, as if it were gone, into the hands of the Philistines. Where is, then, “the exceeding great and bitter cry”—such as arises when some great reverse of temporal fortune comes—when some plague reaps the life of the land—when some great ship, laden with souls, sinks into the deep—when one of our chief of men is smitten suddenly down in the noon-tide of his honors? Alas, we have a different standard for the measurement of the relative importance of these things, than that nameless woman of Israel, who amid the most cruel death agonies to which the human frame is subject, and in the severest reverses we can be called to suffer, called her new-born son Ichabod, not for these things, but “because the ark of God was taken.”
On this case, it is well remarked by an old writer, whose subject led him naturally to it (it is part of a meditation for a woman expecting to be delivered)—“She took no comfort in her deliverance, though she had a son, while the church of God was not delivered. O, that the same mind might be in me, that I might learn also to be more affected with the affairs of the church. Alas, what is my danger to the universal danger, my travail to the travail of the church? What comfort to me to have many children, unless I might see the good of God’s chosen? What content have I in being delivered of my pains, unless God deliver Israel from all its troubles? What delight had Abraham in all his mercies while he was childless, or I in all my children, if the children of God be comfortless? Oh my God, bless me out of Zion, and thus let me be blessed as those are that fear the Lord; let me not only be a fruitful vine, but let me see the good of Jerusalem all my days. Let me not only see my children’s children, but peace upon Israel.” Note: “A Present to be given to Teeming Women by their Husbands and Friends.” By John Oliver, less than the least of all Saints, London. At the Golden Bible on London Bridge, 1669.
To which we may suitably add the words of a still earlier writer—“What cares she for a posterity which should want the ark? What cares she for a son come into the world of Israel, when God was gone from it? And how willingly doth she depart from them from whom God was departed! Not outward magnificence, not state, not wealth, not favor of the mighty, but the presence of God in his ordinances was the glory of Israel; the subduing whereof is a greater judgment than destruction.” Note: Hall’s Contemplations, book xi. cont. 7.
Autor: JOHN KITTO