already found distinction, for who in Moab or Midian could have
commanded with so royal an air and received attention so obsequious?
But the reward remained to be won. Yet may we not assume that when
Balaam reached Moab and saw the pitiable state of what had been
once a strong kingdom, the cities half ruined, filled with poor and
dejected inhabitants, he conceived a kind of contempt for Balak and
perceived that his offers must be set aside as worthless? God met
Balaam, we are told. And this may have been the sense in which God
met him and put a word into his mouth. What was Moab compared with
Israel? A glance at Kiriath-huzoth, a little experience of Balak's
empty boastfulness and the entreaties and anxiety which betrayed his
weakness, would show Balaam the vanity of proposing to reinvigorate
Moab at the expense of Israel. His way led clearly enough where the
finger of the God of Israel pointed, and his mind almost anticipated
what the Voice he heard as Jehovah's declared. He saw the smoke
streaming south-eastward, and casting a black shadow between him and
Moab; but the sun shone on the tents of Israel, right away to the
utmost part of the camp (xxii. 41). The mind of Balaam was made up.
It would be better for him in a worldly sense to win some credit with
Israel than to have the greatest honour Moab could offer. Chemosh
was in decline, Jehovah in the ascendant. Perhaps the Hebrews might
need a diviner when their great Moses was dead, and he, Balaam,
might succeed to that exalted office. We never can tell what dreams
will enter the mind of the ambitious man, or rather, we do not know
on what slender foundations he builds the most extravagant hopes.
There was nothing more unlikely, the thing indeed was absolutely
impossible, yet Balaam may have imagined that his oracle would come
to the ears of the Israelites, and that they would send for him to
give favourable auguries before they crossed the Jordan.
Rapidly the diviner had to form his decision. That done, the words
of the oracle could be trusted to the inspiration of the moment,
inspiration from Jehovah, whose superiority to all the gods of Syria
Balaam now heartily acknowledged. He accordingly left his place of
vision and returned to the Bamoth where the altars still smoked. Then
he took up his parable and spoke.
"From Aram Balak brought me,
Moab's king from the mountains of the east;
'Come, curse for me Jacob,
And come, menace Israel.'
How can I curse whom God hath not cursed?
And how can I menace whom God hath not menaced?
For from the head of the rocks I see him,
And from the hills I behold him.
Lo, a people apart he dwells,
And among the nations he is not counted.
Who can reckon the dust of Jacob,
And in number the fourth of Israel?
Let my soul die the death of the righteous;
And be my last end like his!"
In this parable, or _mashal_, along with some elements of egotism and
self-defence, there are others that have the ring of inspiration.
The opening is a vaunt, and the expression, "How can I curse whom
God hath not cursed?" is a form of self-vindication which savours
of vanity. We see more of the cowed and half-resentful man than of
the prophet. Yet the vision of a people dwelling apart, not to be
reckoned among the others, is a real revelation, boldly flung out.
Something of the difference already established between Israel and
the _goim_, or peoples of the Syrian district, had been caught by the
seer in his survey of past events, and now came to clear expression.
For a moment, at least, his soul rose almost into spiritual desire in
the cry that his last end should be of the kind an Israelite might
have; one who with calm confidence laid himself down in the arms of
the great God, the Lord of providence, of death as well as life.
A man has learned one lesson of great value for the conduct of life
when he sees that he cannot curse whom God has not cursed, that he
would be foolish to menace whom God has not menaced. Reaching this
point of sight, Balaam stands superior for the time to the vulgar
ideas of men like the king of Moab, who have no conception of a
strong and dominant will to which human desires are all subjected.
However reluctantly this confession is made, it prevents many futile
endeavours and much empty vapouring. There are some indeed whose
belief that fate must be on their side is simply immovable. Those
whom they choose to reckon enemies are established in the protection
of heaven; but they think it possible to wrest their revenge even
from the Divine hand. Not till the blow they strike recoils with
crushing force on themselves do they know the fatuity of their hope.
In his "Instans Tyrannus" Mr. Browning pictures one whose persecution
of an obscure foe ends in defeat.
"I soberly laid my last plan
To extinguish the man.
Round his creep-hole, with never a break,
Ran my fires for his sake;
Overhead, did my thunder combine
With my underground mine:
Till I looked from my labour, content
To enjoy the event.
When sudden ... how think ye, the end?
Did I say, 'Without friend'?
Say rather from marge to blue marge
The whole sky grew his targe,
With the sun's self for visible boss,
While an Arm ran across,
Which the earth heaved beneath, like a breast
Where the wretch was safe prest!
Do you see? Just my vengeance complete,
The man sprang to his feet,
Stood erect, caught at God's skirts and prayed!
--So, I was afraid!"
In smaller matters, the attempts at impudent detraction which are
common, when the base, girding at the good, think it possible to
bring them to contempt, or at least stir them to unseemly anger, or
prick them to humiliating self-defence, the law is often well enough
understood, yet neither the assailants nor those attacked may be
wise enough to recognise it. A man who stands upon his faithfulness
to God does not need to be vexed by the menaces of the base; he
should despise them. Yet he often allows himself to be harassed,
and so yields all the victory hoped for by his detractor. Calm
indifference, if one has a right to use it, is the true shield
against the arrows of envy and malice.
Balaam's vision of Israel as a separated people, a people dwelling
alone, had singular penetration. The others he knew--Amorites,
Moabites, Ammonites, Midianites, Hittites, Aramæans--went together,
scarcely distinguishable in many respects, with their national Baals
all of the same kind. Was Ammon or Chemosh, Melcarth or Sutekh,
the name of the Baal? The rites might differ somewhat, there might
be more or less ferocity ascribed to the deities; but on the whole
their likeness was too close for any real distinction. And the
peoples, differing in race, in culture, in habit, no doubt, were yet
alike in this, that their morality and their mental outlook passed
no boundary, were for the most part of the beaten, crooked road.
Strifes and petty ambitions here and there, temporary combinations
for ignoble ends, the rise of one above another for a time under
some chief who held his ground by force of arms, then fell and
disappeared--such were the common events of their histories. But
Israel came into Balaam's sight as a people of an entirely different
kind, generically distinct. Their God was no Baal ferocious by
report, really impotent, a mere reflection of human passion and
lust. Jehovah's law was a creation, like nothing in human history
ascribed to a God. His worship meant solemn obligation, imposed,
acknowledged, not simply to honour Him, but to be pure and true and
honest in honouring Him. Israel had no part in the orgies that were
held in professed worship of the Baals, really to the disgrace of
their devotees. The lines of the national development had been laid
down, and Balaam saw to some extent how widely they diverged from
those along which other peoples sought power and glory. Amorites and
Hittites and Canaanites might keep their place, but Israel had the
secret of a progress of which they never dreamed. Wherever the tribes
settled, when they advanced to fulfil their destiny, they would prove
a new force in the world.
For the time Israel might be called the one spiritual people. It
was this Balaam partly saw, and made the basis of his striking
predictions. The modern nations are not to be distinguished by the
same testing idea. The thoughts and hopes of Christianity have
entered more or less into all that are civilised, and have touched
others that can scarcely be called so. Yet if there is any oracle
for the peoples of our century it is one that turns on the very
point which Balaam seems to have had in view. But it is, that not
one of them, as a nation, is distinctly moved and separated from
others by spirituality of aim. Of not one can it be said that it
is confessedly, eagerly, on the way to a Canaan where the Living
and True God shall be worshipped, that its popular movements, its
legislation, its main endeavours look to such a heavenly result. If
we saw a people dwelling apart, with a high spiritual aim, resolutely
excluding those ideas of materialism which dominate the rest, of them
it would not be presumptuous to prophesy in the high terms to which
the oracles of Balaam gradually rose.
Regarding the wish with which the diviner closed his first
_mashal_, hard things have been said, as for example, that "even
in his sublimest visions his egotism breaks out; in the sight of
God's Israel he cries, 'Let me die the death of the righteous.'"
Here, however, there may be personal sorrow and regret, a pathetic
confession of human fear by one who has been brought to serious
thought, rather than any mere egoistic craving. Why should he speak
of death? That is not the theme of the egotist. We hear a sudden
ejaculation that seems to open a glimpse of his heart. For this
man, like every son of Adam, has his burden, his secret trouble,
from which all the hopes and plans of his ambition cannot relieve
his mind. Now for the first time he speaks in a genuinely religious
strain. "There are the righteous whom the Great Jehovah regards with
favour, and gathers to Himself. When their end comes they rest. Alas!
I, Balaam, am not one of them; and the shadows of my end are not far
away! Would that by some mighty effort I could throw aside my life
as it has been and is, revoke my destiny, and enter the ranks of
Jehovah's people--were it only to die among them."
Wistfully, men whose life has been on the low ground of mere earthly
toil and pleasure may, in like manner, when the end draws near,
envy the confidence and hope of the good. For the old age of the
sensualist, and even of the successful man of the world, is under a
dull wintry sky, with no prospect of another morning, or even of a
quiet night of dreamless sleep.
"The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death."
Courage and peace at the last belong to those alone who have kept in
the way of righteousness. To them and no others light shall arise in
the darkness. The faithfulness of God is their refuge even when the
last shadows fall. He whom they trust goes before them in the pillar
of fire when night is on the world, as well as in the pillar of cloud
by day. To the man of this earth even the falling asleep of the good
is enviable, though they may not anticipate a blessed immortality.
Their very grave is a bed of peaceful rest, for living or dying they
belong to the great God.
* * * * *
It was with growing dissatisfaction, rising to anxiety, Balak heard
the first oracle that fell from the diviner's lips. Despite the
warning he had received that only the words which Jehovah gave should
be spoken, he hoped for some kind of a curse. His altars had been
built, his oxen and rams sacrificed, and surely, he thought, all
would not be in vain! Balaam had not travelled from Pethor to mock
him. But the prophecy carried not a single word of heartening to the
enemies of Israel. The camp lay in the full sunshine of fortune,
unobscured by the least cloud. It was the first blow to Balak's
malignant jealousy, and might well have put him to confusion. But men
of his sort are rich in conjectures and expedients. He had set his
mind on this as the means of finding advantage in a struggle that
was sure to come; and he clung to his hope. Although the curse would
not light on the whole camp of Israel, yet it might fall on a part,
the remote outlying portion of the tribes. In superstition men are
for ever catching at straws. If the anger of some heavenly power,
what power mattered little to Balak, could be once enlisted against
the tribes, even partially, the influence of it might spread. And
it would at least be something if pestilence or lightning smote the
utmost part of that threatening encampment.
One must be sorry for men whose impotent anger has to fall on
expedients so miserably inadequate. Moab defeated by the Amorites
sees them in turn vanquished and scattered by this host which has
suddenly appeared, and to all ordinary reckoning has no place nor
right in the region. Sad as was the defeat which deprived Balak
of half his land and left his people in poverty, this incursion
and its success foreboded greater trouble. The king was bound to
do something, and, feeling himself unable to fight, this was his
scheme. The utter uselessness of it from every point of view gives
the story a singular pathos. But the world under Divine providence
cannot be left in a region where superstition reigns and progress is
impossible--simply that a people like the Moabites may settle again
on their lees, and that others may continue to enjoy what seem to
them to be their rights. There must be a stirring of human existence,
a new force and new ideas introduced among the peoples, even at the
expense of war and bloodshed. And our sympathy with Balak fails when
we recollect that Israel had refrained from attacking Moab in its day
of weakness, had even refrained from asking leave to pass through
its impoverished territory. The feelings of the vanquished had been
respected. Perhaps Balak, with the perversity of a weak man and an
incompetent prince, resented this as much as anything.
Balaam was now brought into the field of Zophim, or the Watchers, to
the "top of Pisgah," whence he could see only a part of the camp of
Israel. The Hebrew here as well as in xxii. 41 is ambiguous. It has
even been interpreted as meaning that on the first occasion part of the
encampment only was in view, and on the second occasion the whole of it
(so Keil _in loco_). But the tenor of the narrative corresponds better
with the translation given in the English Version. The precise spot
here called the top of Pisgah has not been identified. In the opinion
of some the name Pisgah survives in the modern Siaghah; but even if
it does we are not helped in the least. Others take Pisgah as meaning
simply "hill," and read "the field of Zophim on the top of the hill."
The latter translation would obviate the difficulty that in Deut.
xxxiv. 1 it is said that Moses, when the time of his death approached,
"went up from the plains of Moab unto Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah
that is over against Jericho." Pisgah may have been the name of the
range; yet again in Numb. xxvii. 12, and Deut. xxxii. 49, Abarim is
given as the name of the range of which Nebo is a peak. We are led to
the conclusion that Pisgah was the name in general use for a hill-top
of some peculiar form. The root meaning of the word is difficult to
make out. It may at all events be taken as certain that this top of
Pisgah is not the same as that to which Moses ascended to die. Balak
and his princes had not as yet ventured so far beyond the Arnon.
At Balaam's request the same arrangements were made as at Bamoth-Baal.
Seven altars were built, and seven bullocks and seven rams were
offered; and again the diviner withdrew to some distance to seek omens.
This time his meeting with Jehovah gave him a more emphatic message. It
would seem that with the passing of the day's incidents the vatic fire
in his mind burned more brightly. Instead of endeavouring to conciliate
Balak he appears to take delight in the oracle that dashes the hopes
of Moab to the ground. He has looked from the new point of vision and
seen the great future that awaits Israel. It is vain to expect that the
decree of the Almighty One can be revoked. Balak must hear all that the
spirit of Elohim has given to the seer.
"Up, Balak, and hear;
Hearken to me, son of Zippor:
No man is God, that He should lie;
And no son of man, that He should repent,
Hath He said, and shall He not do it?
And spoken, and shall He not make good?
Behold to bless I have received;
And He hath blessed and I cannot undo.
He hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob,
Nor seen perverseness in Israel.
Jehovah his God is with him;
And the shout of a King is with him.
God brings them forth from Egypt:
Like the horns of the wild ox are his.
Surely no snake-craft is in Jacob,
And no enchantment with Israel.
At the time it shall be said of Jacob and Israel,
What hath God wrought!
Behold the people as a lioness arises,
And as a lion lifts himself up;
He shall not lie down till he eat the prey,
And drink the blood of the slain."
The confirmation of the first oracle by what Balaam has realised on
his second approach to Jehovah compels the question which rebukes the
king's vain desire. "Hath He said, and shall He not do it?" Balak did
not know Jehovah as Balaam knew Him. This God never went back from His
decision, nor recalled His promises. And He is able to do whatever He
wills. Not only does He refuse to curse Israel, but He has given a
blessing which Balaam even, powerful as he is, cannot possibly hinder.
It has become manifest that the judgment of God on His people's conduct
is in no respect adverse. Reviewing their past, the diviner may have
found such failure from the covenant as would give cause for a decision
against them, partial at least, if not general. But there is no excuse
for supposing that Jehovah has turned against the tribes. Their recent
successes and present position are proofs of His favour unrevoked, and,
it would seem, irrevocable. There is a King with this people, and when
they advance it is with a shout in His honour. The King is Jehovah
their God; mightier far than Balak or any ruler of the nations. When
the loud Hallelujah rose from the multitude at some sacred feast, it
was indeed the shout of a monarch.
Singular is it to find a diviner like Balaam noting as one of the
great distinctions of Israel that the nation used neither augury nor
divination. The hollowness of his own arts in presence of the God
of Israel who could not be moved by them, who gave His people hope
without them, would seem to have impressed Balaam profoundly. He
speaks almost as if in contempt of the devices he himself employs.
Indeed, he sees that his art is not art at all, as regards Israel.
The Hebrews trust no omens; and either for or against them omens give
no sign. It was another mark of the separateness of Israel. Jehovah
had fenced His people from the spells of the magician. True to Him,
they could defy all the sorcery of the East. And when the time for
further endeavour came, the nations around should have to hear of the
God who had brought the Hebrew tribes out of Egypt. With a lion-like
vigour they would rise from their lair by the Jordan. The Canaanites
and Amorites beyond should be their prey. Already perhaps tidings had
come of the defeat of Bashan: the cities on the other side Jordan
should fall in their turn.
As yet there is nothing in the predictions of Balaam that can be said
to point distinctly to any future event in Israel's history. The
oracles are of that general kind which might be expected from a man
of the world who has given attention to the signs of the times and
perceived the value to a people of strong and original faith. But
taking them in this sense they may well rebuke that modern disbelief
which denies the inspiring power of religion and the striking facts
which come to light not only in the history of nations like Israel
but in the lives of men whose vigour springs from religious zeal.
Balaam saw what any whose eyes are open will also see, that when
the shout of the Heavenly King is among a people, when they serve a
Divine Master, holy, just, and true, they have a standing ground and
an outlook not otherwise to be reached. The critics of religion who
take it to be a mere heat of the blood, a transient emotion, forget
that the grasp of great and generous principles, and the thought of
an Eternal Will to be served, give a sense of right and freedom which
expediency and self-pleasing cannot supply. However man comes to be
what he is, this is certain, that for him strength depends not so
much on bodily physique as on the soul, and for the soul on religious
inspiration. The enthusiasm of pleasure-seeking has never yet made a
band of men indomitable, nor need it be expected to give greatness;
we cannot persuade ourselves that apart from God our blessedness is a
matter of surpassing importance. We are a multitude whose individual
lives are very small, very short, very insignificant, unless they are
known to serve some Divine end.
It has been seen by one philosopher that if the religious sanction
be taken away from morality some other must be provided to fill up
the vacuum. Further, it may be said that if the religious support and
stimulus of human energy be withdrawn there will be a greater vacuum
more difficult to fill. The would-be benefactors of our race, who
think that the superstition of a personal God is effete and should
be swept away as soon as possible, so that man may return to nature,
might do well to return to Balaam. He had a penetration which they
do not possess. And singularly, the very apostle of that impersonal
"stream of tendency making for righteousness," which was once to be
put in the place of God, did on one occasion unwittingly remind us
of this prophet. Mr. Matthew Arnold had a difficult thing to do when
he tried to encourage a toiling population to go on toiling without
hope, to plod on in the underground while a select few above enjoyed
the sunlight. The part was that of a diviner finding auguries for the
inevitable. But he spoke as one who had to pity a poor blind Israel,
no longer inspired by the shout of a king or the hope of a promised
land, an Israel that had lost its faith and its way and seemed about
to perish in the desert. Well did he know how difficult it is for men
under this dread to endure patiently when those above have abolished
God and the future life; men, who are disposed to say, yet must be told
that they say vainly, "If there is nothing but this life, we must have
it. Let us help ourselves, whenever we can, to all we desire." Was that
Israel to be blessed or cursed? There was no oracle. Yet the cultured
Balak, hoping for a spell at least against the revolutionaries, had a
rebuke. The prophet did not curse; he had no power to bless. But Moab
was shown to be in peril, was warned to be generous.
Balaams enough there are, after a sort, with more or less penetration
and sincerity. But what the peoples need is a Moses to revive their
faith. The hollow maledictions and blessings that are now launched
incessantly from valley to hill, from hill to valley, would be
silenced if we found the leader who can re-awaken faith. It would be
superfluous, then, for the race in its fresh hope to bless itself,
and vain for the pessimists to curse it. With the ensign of Divine
love leading the way, and the new heavens and earth in view, all men
would be assured and hopeful, patient in suffering, fearless in death.
* * * * *
The second oracle produced in the mind of Balak an effect of
bewilderment, not of complete discomfiture. He appears to be caught
so far in the afflatus that he must hear all the prophet has to tell.
He desires Balaam neither to curse nor bless; neutrality would be
something. Yet, with all he has already heard giving clear indication
what more is to be expected, he proposes another place, another trial
of the auguries. This time the whole of Israel shall again be seen.
The top of Peor that looketh down upon Jeshimon, or the desert, is
chosen. On this occasion when the altars and sacrifices are prepared
the order is not the same as before. The diviner does not retire
to a distance to seek for omens. He makes no profession of mystery
now. The temperature of thought and feeling is high, for the spot on
which the company gathers is almost within range of the sentinels
of Israel. The adventure is surely one of the strangest which the
East ever witnessed. In the dramatic unfolding of it the actors and
spectators are alike absorbed.
* * * * *
The third prophetic chant repeats several of the expressions contained
in the second, and adds little; but it is more poetical in form. The
prophet standing on the height saw "immediately below him the vast
encampment of Israel amongst the acacia groves of Abel Shittim--like
the water-courses of the mountains, like the hanging gardens beside
his own river Euphrates, with their aromatic shrubs and their
wide-spreading cedars. Beyond them on the western side of Jordan rose
the hills of Palestine, with glimpses through their valleys of ancient
cities towering on their crested heights. And beyond all, though he
could not see it with his bodily vision, he knew well that there rolled
the deep waters of the great sea, with the Isles of Greece, the Isle
of Chittim--a world of which the first beginnings of life were just
stirring, of which the very name here first breaks upon our ears."
From the deep meditation which passed into a trance the diviner awoke
to gaze for a little upon that scene, to look fixedly once more on the
camp of the Hebrew tribes, and then he began:--
"Balaam the son of Beor saith,
And the man whose eye was closed saith:
He saith who heareth the words of El,
Who seeth the vision of Shaddai,
Falling down and having his eyes opened."