In estimating the personal character of David, we have seen that one
element of it was his ideal kingship. Apart from his personality, his name
is significant for Old Testament theology, as that of the typical king.
From the time when the royal title “Messiah” began to be a synonym for the
hope of Israel, down to the period when the Anglican Church taught the
Divine right of kings, and Calvinists insisted on the Divine sovereignty
or royal authority of God, the dignity and power of the King of kings have
always been illustrated by, and sometimes associated with, the state of an
earthly monarch—whereof David is the most striking example.
The times of the chronicler were favourable to the development of the idea
of the perfect king of Israel, the prince of the house of David. There was
no king in Israel; and, as far as we can gather, the living
representatives of the house of David held no very prominent position in
the community. It is much easier to draw a satisfactory picture of the
ideal monarch when the imagination is not checked and hampered by the
faults and failings of an actual Ahaz or Hezekiah. In earlier times the
prophetic hopes for the house of David had often been rudely disappointed,
but there had been ample space to forget the past and to revive the old
hopes in fresh splendour and magnificence. Lack of experience helped to
commend the idea of the Davidic king to the chronicler. Enthusiasm for a
benevolent despot is mostly confined to those who have not enjoyed the
privilege of living under such autocratic government.
On the other hand, there was no temptation to flatter any living Davidic
king, so that the semi-Divine character of the kingship of David is not
set forth after the gross and almost blasphemous style of Roman emperors
or Turkish sultans. It is indeed said that the people worshipped Jehovah
and the king; but the essential character of Jewish thought made it
impossible that the ideal king should sit “in the temple of God, setting
himself forth as God.” David and Solomon could not share with the pagan
emperors the honours of Divine worship in their life-time and apotheosis
after their death. Nothing addressed to any Hebrew king parallels the
panegyric to the Christian emperor Theodosius, in which allusion is made
to his “sacred mind,” and he is told that “as the Fates are said to assist
with their tablets _that God who is the partner in your majesty_, so does
some Divine power serve your bidding, which writes down and in due time
suggests to your memory the promises which you have made.”(181) Nor does
Chronicles adorn the kings of Judah with extravagant Oriental titles, such
as “King of kings of kings of kings.” Devotion to the house of David never
oversteps the bounds of a due reverence, but the Hebrew idea of monarchy
loses nothing by this salutary reserve.
Indeed, the title of the royal house of Judah rested upon Divine
appointment. “Jehovah ... turned the kingdom unto David; ... and they
anointed David king over Israel, according to the word of Jehovah by the
hand of Samuel.”(182) But the Divine choice was confirmed by the cordial
consent of the nation; the sovereigns of Judah, like those of England,
ruled by the grace of God and the will of the people. Even before David’s
accession the Israelites had flocked to his standard; and after the death
of Saul a great array of the twelve tribes came to Hebron to make David
king, “and all the rest also of Israel were of one heart to make David
king.”(183) Similarly Solomon is the king “whom God hath chosen,” and all
the congregation make him king and anoint him to be prince.(184) The
double election of David by Jehovah and by the nation is clearly set forth
in the book of Samuel, and in Chronicles the omission of David’s early
career emphasises this election. In the book of Samuel we are shown the
natural process that brought about the change of dynasty; we see how the
Divine choice took effect through the wars between Saul and the
Philistines and through David’s own ability and energy. Chronicles is
mostly silent as to secondary causes, and fixes our attention on the
Divine choice as the ultimate ground for David’s elevation.
The authority derived from God and the people continued to rest on the
same basis. David sought Divine direction alike for the building of the
Temple and for his campaigns against the Philistines. At the same time,
when he wished to bring up the Ark to Jerusalem, he “consulted with the
captains of thousands and of hundreds, even with every leader; and David
said unto all the assembly of Israel, If it seem good unto you, and if it
be of Jehovah our God, ... let us bring again the ark of our God to us;
... and all the assembly said that they would do so, for the thing was
right in the eyes of all the people.”(185) Of course the chronicler does
not intend to describe a constitutional monarchy, in which an assembly of
the people had any legal status. Apparently in his own time the Jews
exercised their measure of local self-government through an informal
oligarchy, headed by the high-priest; and these authorities occasionally
appealed to an assembly of the people. The administration under the
monarchy was carried on in a somewhat similar fashion, only the king had
greater authority than the high-priest, and the oligarchy of notables were
not so influential as the colleagues of the latter. But apart from any
formal constitution the chronicler’s description of these incidents
involves a recognition of the principle of popular consent in government
as well as the doctrine that civil order rests upon a Divine sanction.
It is interesting to see how a member of a great ecclesiastical community,
imbued, as we should suppose, with all the spirit of priestcraft, yet
insists upon the royal supremacy both in state and Church. But to have
done otherwise would have been to go in the teeth of all history; even in
the Pentateuch the “king in Jeshurun” is greater than the priest.
Moreover, the chronicler was not a priest, but a Levite; and there are
indications that the Levites’ ancient jealousy of the priests had by no
means died out. In Chronicles, at any rate, there is no question of
priests interfering with the king’s secular administration. They are not
even mentioned as obtaining oracles for David as Abiathar did before his
accession.(186) This was doubtless implied in the original account of the
Philistine raids in chap. xiv., but the chronicler may not have understood
that “inquiring of God” meant obtaining an oracle from the priests.
The king is equally supreme also in ecclesiastical affairs; we might even
say that the civil authorities generally shared this supremacy. Somewhat
after the fashion of Cromwell and his major-generals, David utilised “the
captains of the host” as a kind of ministry of public worship; they joined
with him in organising the orchestra and choir for the services of the
sanctuary(187): probably Napoleon and his marshals would have had no
hesitation in selecting anthems for Notre Dame if the idea had occurred to
them. David also consulted his captains,(188) and not the priests, about
bringing the Ark to Jerusalem. When he gathered the great assembly to make
his final arrangements for the building of the Temple, the princes and
captains, the rulers and mighty men, are mentioned, but no priests.(189)
And, last, all the congregation apparently anoint(190) Zadok to be priest.
The chronicler was evidently a pronounced Erastian.(191) David is no mere
nominal head of the Church; he takes the initiative in all important
matters, and receives the Divine commands either directly or through his
prophets Nathan and Gad. Now these prophets are not ecclesiastical
authorities; they have nothing to do with the priesthood, and do not
correspond to the officials of an organised Church. They are rather the
domestic chaplains or confessors of the king, differing from modern
chaplains and confessors in having no ecclesiastical superiors. They were
not responsible to the bishop of any diocese or the general of any order;
they did not manipulate the royal conscience in the interests of any party
in the Church; they served God and the king, and had no other masters.
They did not beard David before his people, as Ambrose confronted
Theodosius or as Chrysostom rated Eudoxia; they delivered their message to
David in private, and on occasion he communicated it to the people.(192)
The king’s spiritual dignity is rather enhanced than otherwise by this
reception of prophetic messages specially delivered to himself. There is
another aspect of the royal supremacy in religion. In this particular
instance its object is largely the exaltation of David; to arrange for
public worship is the most honourable function of the ideal king. At the
same time the care of the sanctuary is his most sacred duty, and is
assigned to him that it may be punctually and worthily discharged. State
establishment of the Church is combined with a very thorough control of
the Church by the state.
We see then that the monarchy rested on Divine and national election, and
was guided by the will of God and of the people. Indeed, in bringing up
the Ark(193) the consent of the people is the only recorded indication of
the will of God. “Vox populi vox Dei.” The king and his government are
supreme alike over the state and the sanctuary, and are entrusted with the
charge of providing for public worship. Let us try to express the modern
equivalents of these principles. Civil government is of Divine origin, and
should obtain the consent of the people; it should be carried on according
to the will of God, freely accepted by the nation. The civil authority is
supreme both in Church and state, and is responsible for the maintenance
of public worship.
One at least of these principles is so widely accepted that it is quite
independent of any Scriptural sanction from Chronicles. The consent of the
people has long been accepted as an essential condition of any stable
government. The sanctity of civil government and the sacredness of its
responsibilities are coming to be recognised, at present perhaps rather in
theory than in practice. We have not yet fully realised how the truth
underlying the doctrine of the Divine right of kings applies to modern
conditions. Formerly the king was the representative of the state, or even
the state itself; that is to say, the king directly or indirectly
maintained social order, and provided for the security of life and
property. The Divine appointment and authority of the king expressed the
sanctity of law and order as the essential conditions of moral and
spiritual progress. The king is no longer the state. His Divine right,
however, belongs to him, not as a person or as a member of a family, but
as the embodiment of the state, the champion of social order against
anarchy. The “Divinity that doth hedge a king” is now shared by the
sovereign with all the various departments of government. The state—that
is to say, the community organised for the common good and for mutual
help—is now to be recognised as of Divine appointment and as wielding a
Divine authority. “The Lord has turned the kingdom to” the people.
This revolution is so tremendous that it would not be safe to apply to the
modern state the remaining principles of the chronicler. Before we could
do so we should need to enter into a discussion which would be out of
place here, even if we had space for it.
In one point the new democracies agree with the chronicler: they are not
inclined to submit secular affairs to the domination of ecclesiastical
officials.
The questions of the supremacy of the state over the Church and of the
state establishment of the Church involve larger and more complicated
issues than existed in the mind or experience of the chronicler. But his
picture of the ideal king suggests one idea that is in harmony with some
modern aspirations. In Chronicles the king, as the representative of the
state, is the special agent in providing for the highest spiritual needs
of the people. May we venture to hope that out of the moral consciousness
of a nation united in mutual sympathy and service there may arise a new
enthusiasm to obey and worship God? Human cruelty is the greatest
stumbling-block to belief and fellowship; when the state has somewhat
mitigated the misery of “man’s inhumanity to man,” faith in God will be
easier.