the man of the ox-goad, who considered not whether he was equipped for
attacking Philistines, but turned on them from the plough, his blood
leaping in him with swift indignation. The instrument of his assault was
not made for the use to which it was put: the power lay in the arm that
wielded the goad and the fearless will of the man who struck for his own
birthright, freedom,--for Israel's birthright, to be the servant of no
other race. Undoubtedly it is well that, in any efforts made for the
church or for society, men should consider how they are to act and
should furnish themselves in the best manner for the work that is to be
done. No outfit of knowledge, skill, experience is to be despised. A man
does not serve the world better in ignorance than in learning, in
bluntness than in refinement. But the serious danger for such an age as
our own is that strength may be frittered away and zeal expended in the
mere preparation of weapons, in the mere exercise before the war begins.
The important points at issue are apt to be lost sight of, and the vital
distinctions on which the whole battle turns to fade away in an
atmosphere of compromise. There are those who, to begin, are Israelites
indeed, with a keen sense of their nationality, of the urgency of
certain great thoughts and the example of heroes. Their nationality
becomes less and less to them as they touch the world; the great
thoughts begin to seem parochial and antiquated; the heroes are found to
have been mistaken, their names cease to thrill. The man now sees
nothing to fight for, he cares only to go on perfecting his equipment.
Let us do him justice. It is not the toil of the conflict he shrinks
from, but the rudeness of it, the dust and heat of warfare. He is no
voluntary now, for he values the dignity of a State Church and feels the
charm of ancient traditions. He is not a good churchman, for he will not
be pledged to any creed or opposed to any school. He is rarely seen on
any political platform, for he hates the watchwords of party. And this
is the least of it. He is a man without a cause, a believer without a
faith, a Christian without a stroke of brave work to do in the world. We
love his mildness; we admire his mental possessions, his broad
sympathies. But when we are throbbing with indignation he is too calm;
when we catch at the ox-goad and fly at the enemy we know that he
disdains our weapon and is affronted by our fire. Better, if it must be
so, the rustic from the plough, the herdsman from the hill-side; better
far he of the camel's hair garment and the keen cry, Repent, repent!
Israel, then, appears in these stories of her iron age as the cradle of
the manhood of the modern world; in Israel the true standard was lifted
up for the people. It is liberty put to a noble use that is the mark of
manhood, and in Israel's history the idea of responsibility to the one
living and true God takes form and clearness as that alone which fulfils
and justifies liberty. Israel has a God Whose will man must do, and for
the doing of it he is free. If at the outset the vigour which this
thought of God infused into the Hebrew struggle for independence was
tempestuous; if Jehovah was seen not in the majesty of eternal justice
and sublime magnanimity, not as the Friend of all, but as the unseen
King of a favoured people,--still, as freedom came, there came with it
always, in some prophetic word, some Divine psalm, a more living
conception of God as gracious, merciful, holy, unchangeable; and
notwithstanding all lapses the Hebrew was a man of higher quality than
those about him. You stand by the cradle and see no promise, nothing to
attract. But give the faith which is here in infancy time to assert
itself, give time for the vision of God to enlarge, and the finest type
of human life will arise and establish itself, a type possible in no
other way. Egypt with its long and wonderful history gives nothing to
the moral life of the new world, for it produces no men. Its kings are
despots, tomb-builders, its people contented or discontented slaves.
Babylon and Nineveh are names that dwarf Israel's into insignificance,
but their power passes and leaves only some monuments for the
antiquarian, some corroborations of a Hebrew record. Egypt and Chaldea,
Assyria and Persia never reached through freedom the idea of man's
proper life, never rose to the sense of that sublime calling or bowed in
that profound adoration of the Holy One which made the Israelite, rude
fanatic as he often was, a man and a father of men. From Egypt, from
Babylon,--yea, from Greece and Rome came no redeemer of mankind, for
they grew bewildered in the search after the chief end of existence and
fell before they found it. In the prepared people it was, the people
cramped in the narrow land between the Syrian desert and the sea, that
the form of the future Man was seen, and there, where the human spirit
felt at least, if it did not realise its dignity and place, the Messiah
was born.
VII.
_THE SIBYL OF MOUNT EPHRAIM._
JUDGES iv.
There arises now in Israel a prophetess, one of those rare women whose
souls burn with enthusiasm and holy purpose when the hearts of men are
abject and despondent; and to Deborah it is given to make a nation hear
her call. Of prophetesses the world has seen but few; generally the
woman has her work of teaching and administering justice in the name of
God within a domestic circle and finds all her energy needed there. But
queens have reigned with firm nerve and clear sagacity in many a land,
and now and again a woman's voice has struck the deep note which has
roused a nation to its duty. Such in the old Hebrew days was Deborah,
wife of Lappidoth.
It was a time of miserable thraldom in Israel when she became aware of
her destiny and began the sacred enterprise of her life. From Hazor in
the north near the waters of Merom Israel was ruled by Jabin, king of
the Canaanites--not the first of the name, for Joshua had before
defeated one Jabin king of Hazor, and slain him. During the peace that
followed Ehud's triumph over Moab the Hebrews, busy with worldly
affairs, failed to estimate a danger which year by year became more
definite and pressing--the rise of the ancient strongholds of Canaan
and their chiefs to new activity and power. Little by little the cities
Joshua destroyed were rebuilt, re-fortified and made centres of warlike
preparation. The old inhabitants of the land recovered spirit, while
Israel lapsed into foolish confidence. At Harosheth of the Gentiles,
under the shadow of Carmel, near the mouth of the Kishon, armourers were
busy forging weapons and building chariots of iron. The Hebrews did not
know what was going on, or missed the purpose that should have thrust
itself on their notice. Then came the sudden rush of the chariots and
the onset of the Canaanite troops, fierce, irresistible. Israel was
subdued and bowed to a yoke all the more galling that it was a people
they had conquered and perhaps despised that now rode over them. In the
north at least the Hebrews were kept in servitude for twenty years,
suffered to remain in the land but compelled to pay heavy tribute, many
of them, it is likely, enslaved or allowed but a nominal independence.
Deborah's song vividly describes the condition of things in her country.
Shamgar had made a clearance on the Philistine border and kept his
footing as a leader, but elsewhere the land was so swept by Canaanite
spoilers that the highways were unused and Hebrew travellers kept to the
tortuous and difficult by-paths down in the glens or among the
mountains. There was war in all the gates, but in Israelite dwellings
neither shield nor spear. Defenceless and crushed the people lay crying
to gods that could not save, turning ever to new gods in strange
despair, the national state far worse than when Cushan's army held the
land or when Eglon ruled from the City of Palm Trees.
Born before this time of oppression Deborah spent her childhood and
youth in some village of Issachar, her home a rude hut covered with
brushwood and clay, like those which are still seen by travellers. Her
parents, we must believe, had more religious feeling than was common
among Hebrews of the time. They would speak to her of the name and law
of Jehovah, and she, we doubt not, loved to hear. But with the exception
of brief oral traditions fitfully repeated and an example of reverence
for sacred times and duties, a mere girl would have no advantages. Even
if her father was chief of a village her lot would be hard and
monotonous, as she aided in the work of the household and went morning
and evening to fetch water from the spring or tended a few sheep on the
hill-side. While she was yet young the Canaanite oppression began, and
she with others felt the tyranny and the shame. The soldiers of Jabin
came and lived at free quarters among the villagers, wasting their
property. The crops were perhaps assessed, as they are at the present
day in Syria, before they were reaped, and sometimes half or even more
would be swept away by the remorseless collector of tribute. The people
turned thriftless and sullen. They had nothing to gain by exerting
themselves when the soldiers and the tax-gatherer were ready to exact so
much the more, leaving them still in poverty. Now and again there might
be a riot. Maddened by insults and extortion the men of the village
would make a stand. But without weapons, without a leader, what could
they effect? The Canaanite troops were upon them; some were killed,
others carried away, and things became worse than before.
There was not much prospect at such a time for a Hebrew maiden whose lot
it seemed to be, while yet scarcely out of her childhood, to be married
like the rest and sink into a household drudge, toiling for a husband
who in his turn laboured for the oppressor. But there was a way then, as
there is always a way for the high-spirited to save life from bareness
and desolation; and Deborah found her path. Her soul went forth to her
people, and their sad state moved her to something more than a woman's
grief and rebellion. As years went by the traditions of the past
revealed their meaning to her, deeper and larger thoughts came, a
beginning of hope for the tribes so downcast and weary. Once they had
swept victoriously through the land and smitten that very fortress which
again overshadowed all the north. It was in the name of Jehovah and by
His help that Israel then triumphed. Clearly the need was for a new
covenant with Him; the people must repent and return to the Lord. Did
Deborah put this before her parents, her husband? Doubtless they agreed
with her, but could see no way of action, no opportunity for such as
they. As she spoke more and more eagerly, as she ventured to urge the
men of her village to bestir themselves, perhaps a few were moved, but
the rest heard carelessly or derided her. We can imagine Deborah in that
time of trial growing up into tall and striking womanhood, watching with
indignation many a scene in which her people showed a craven fear or
joined slavishly in heathen revels. As she spoke and saw her words burn
the hearts of some to whom they were spoken, the sense of power and duty
came. In vain she looked for a prophet, a leader, a man of Jehovah to
rekindle a flame in the nation's heart. A flame! It was in her own soul,
she might wake it in other souls; Jehovah helping her she would.
But when in her native tribe the brave woman began to urge with
prophetic eloquence the return to God and to preach a holy war her time
of peril came. Issachar lay completely under the survey of Jabin's
officers, overawed by his chariots. And one who would deliver a servile
people had need to fear treachery. Issachar was "a strong ass couching
down between the sheepfolds"; he had "bowed his shoulder to bear" and
become "a servant under task-work." As her purpose matured she had to
seek a place of safety and influence, and passing southward she found it
in some retired spot among the hills between Bethel and Ramah, some nook
of that valley which, beginning near Ai, curves eastward and narrows at
Geba to a rocky gorge with precipices eight hundred feet high,--the
Valley of Achor, of which Hosea long afterwards said that it should be a
door of hope. Here, under a palm tree, the landmark of her tent, she
began to prophesy and judge and grow to spiritual power among the
tribes. It was a new thing in Israel for a woman to speak in the name of
God. Her utterances had no doubt something of a sibyllic strain, and the
deep or wild notes of her voice pleading for Jehovah or raised in
passionate warning against idolatry touched the finest chords of the
Hebrew soul. In her rapture she saw the Holy One coming in majesty from
the southern desert where Horeb reared its sacred peak; or again,
looking into the future, foretold His exaltation in proud triumph over
the gods of Canaan, His people free once more, their land purged of
every heathen taint. So gradually her place of abode became a rendezvous
of the tribes, a seat of justice, a shrine of reviving hope. Those who
longed for righteous administration came to her; those who were fearers
of Jehovah gathered about her. Gaining wisdom she was able to represent
to a rude age the majesty as well as the purity of Divine law, to
establish order as well as to communicate enthusiasm. The people felt
that sagacity like hers and a spirit so sanguine and fearless must be
the gift of Jehovah; it was the inspiration of the Almighty that gave
her understanding.
Deborah's prophetical utterances are not to be tried by the standard of
the Isaian age. So tested some of her judgments might fail, some of her
visions lose their charm. She had no clear outlook to those great
principles which the later prophets more or less fully proclaimed. Her
education and circumstances and her intellectual power determined the
degree in which she could receive Divine illumination. One woman before
her is honoured with the name of prophetess, Miriam, the sister of Moses
and Aaron, who led the refrain of the song of triumph at the Red Sea.
Miriam's gift appears limited to the gratitude and ecstasy of one day of
deliverance; and when afterwards on the strength of her share in the
enthusiasm of the Exodus she ventured along with Aaron to claim equality
with Moses, a terrible rebuke checked her presumption. Comparing Miriam
and Deborah, we find as great an advance from the one to the other as
from Deborah to Amos or Hosea. But this only shows that the inspiration
of one mind, intense and ample for that mind, may come far short of the
inspiration of another. God does not give every prophet the same insight
as Moses, for the rare and splendid genius of Moses was capable of an
illumination which very few in any following age have been able to
receive. Even as among the Apostles of Christ St. Peter shows
occasionally a lapse from the highest Christian judgment for which St.
Paul has to take him to task, and yet does not cease to be inspired, so
Deborah is not to be denied the Divine gift though her song is coloured
by an all too human exultation over a fallen enemy.
It is simply impossible to account for this new beginning in Israel's
history without a heavenly impulse; and through Deborah unquestionably
that impulse came. Others were turning to God, but she broke the dark
spell which held the tribes and taught them afresh how to believe and
pray. Under her palm tree there were solemn searchings of heart, and
when the head men of the clans gathered there, travelling across the
mountains of Ephraim or up the wadies from the fords of Jordan, it was
first to humble themselves for the sin of idolatry, and then to
undertake with sacred oaths and vows the serious work which fell to them
in Israel's time of need. Not all came to that solemn rendezvous. When
is such a gathering completely representative? Of Judah and Simeon we
hear nothing. Perhaps they had their own troubles with the wandering
tribes of the desert; perhaps they did not suffer as the others from
Canaanite tyranny and therefore kept aloof. Reuben on the other side
Jordan wavered, Manasseh made no sign of sympathy; Asher, held in check
by the fortress of Hazor and the garrison of Harosheth, chose the safe
part of inaction. Dan was busy trying to establish a maritime trade. But
Ephraim and Benjamin, Zebulun and Naphtali were forward in the revival,
and proudly the record is made on behalf of her native tribe, "the
princes of Issachar were with Deborah." Months passed; the movement grew
steadily, there was a stirring among the dry bones, a resurrection of
hope and purpose.
And with all the care used this could not be hid from the Canaanites.
For doubtless in not a few Israelite homes heathen wives and
half-heathen children would be apt to spy and betray. It goes hardly
with men if they have bound themselves by any tie to those who will not
only fail in sympathy when religion makes demands, but will do their
utmost to thwart serious ambitions and resolves. A man is terribly
compromised who has pledged himself to a woman of earthly mind, ruled by
idolatries of time and sense. He has undertaken duties to her which a
quickened sense of Divine law will make him feel the more; she has her
claim upon his life, and there is nothing to wonder at if she insists
upon her view, to his spiritual disadvantage and peril. In the time of
national quickening and renewed thoughtfulness many a Hebrew discovered
the folly of which he had been guilty in joining hands with women who
were on the side of the Baalim and resented any sacrifice made for
Jehovah. Here we find the explanation of much lukewarmness, indifference
to the great enterprises of the church and withholding of service by
those who make some profession of being on the Lord's side. The
entanglements of domestic relationship have far more to do with failure
in religious duty than is commonly supposed.
Amid difficulty and discouragement enough, with slender resources, the
hope of Israel resting upon her, Deborah's heart did not fail nor her
head for affairs. When the critical point was reached of requiring a
general for the war she had already fixed upon the man. At
Kadesh-Naphtali, almost in sight of Jabin's fortress, on a hill
overlooking the waters of Merom, ninety miles to the north, dwelt Barak
the son of Abinoam. The neighbourhood of the Canaanite capital and daily
evidence of its growing power made Barak ready for any enterprise which
had in it good promise of success, and he had better qualifications
than mere resentment against injustice and eager hatred of the Canaanite
oppression. Already known in Zebulun and Naphtali as a man of bold
temper and sagacity, he was in a position to gather an army corps out of
those tribes--the main strength of the force on which Deborah relied for
the approaching struggle. Better still, he was a fearer of God. To
Kadesh-Naphtali the prophetess sent for the chosen leader of the troops
of Israel, addressing to him the call of Jehovah: "Hath not the Lord
commanded thee saying, Go and draw towards Mount Tabor"--that is, Bring
by detachments quietly from the different cities towards Mount
Tabor--"ten thousand men of Naphtali and Zebulun?" The rendezvous of
Sisera's host was Harosheth of the Gentiles, in the defile at the
western extremity of the valley of Megiddo, where Kishon breaks through
to the plain of Acre. Tabor overlooked from the north-east the same wide
strath which was to be the field where the chariots and the multitude
should be delivered into Barak's hand.
Not doubting the word of God, Barak sees a difficulty. For himself he
has no prophetic gift; he is ready to fight, but this is to be a sacred
war. From the very first he would have the men gather with the clear
understanding that it is for religion as much as for freedom they are
taking arms; and how may this be secured? Only if Deborah will go with
him through the country proclaiming the Divine summons and promise of
victory. He is very decided on the point. "If thou wilt go with me, then
I will go: but if thou wilt not go with me, I will not go." Deborah
agrees, though she would fain have left this matter entirely to men. She
warns him that the expedition will not be to his honour, since Jehovah
will give Sisera into the hand of a woman. Against her will she takes
part in the military preparations. There is no need to find in Deborah's
words a prophecy of the deed of Jael. It is a grossly untrue taunt that
the murder of Sisera is the central point of the whole narrative. When
Deborah says, "The Lord shall sell Sisera into the hand of a woman," the
reference plainly is, as Josephus makes it, to the position into which
Deborah herself was forced as the chief person in the campaign. With
great wisdom and the truest courage she would have limited her own
sphere. With equal wisdom and equal courage Barak understood how the
zeal of the people was to be maintained. There was a friendly contest,
and in the end the right way was found, for unquestionably Deborah was
the genius of the movement. Together they went to Kedesh,--not
Kadesh-Naphtali in the far north, but Kedesh on the shore of the Sea of
Galilee, some twelve miles from Tabor.[4] From that as a centre,
journeying by secluded ways through the northern districts, often
perhaps by night, Deborah and Barak went together rousing the enthusiasm
of the people, until the shores of the lake and the valleys running down
to it were quietly occupied by thousands of armed men.
[4] See Conder's _Tent Work in Palestine_.
The clans are at length gathered; the whole force marches from Kedesh to
the foot of Tabor to give battle. And now Sisera, fully equipped, moves
out of Harosheth along the course of the Kishon, marching well beneath
the ridge of Carmel, his chariots thundering in the van. Near Taanach he
orders his front to be formed to the north, crosses the Kishon and
advances on the Hebrews who by this time are visible beyond the slope
of Moreh. The tremendous moment has come. "Up," cries Deborah, "for this
is the day in which the Lord hath delivered Sisera into thine hand. Is
not the Lord gone out before thee?" She has waited till the troops of
Sisera are entangled among the streams which here, from various
directions, converge to the river Kishon, now swollen with rain and
difficult to cross. Barak, the Lightning Chief, leads his men
impetuously down into the plain, keeping near the shoulder of Moreh
where the ground is not broken by the streams; and with the fall of
evening he begins the attack. The chariots have crossed the Kishon but
are still struggling in the swamps and marshes. They are assailed with
vehemence and forced back, and in the waning light all is confusion. The
Kishon sweeps away many of the Canaanite host, the rest make a stand by
Taanach and further on by the waters of Megiddo. The Hebrews find a
higher ford and following the south bank of the river are upon the foe
again. It is a November night and meteors are flashing through the sky.
They are an omen of evil to the disheartened half-defeated army. Do not
the stars in their courses fight against Sisera? The rout becomes
complete; Barak pursues the scattered force towards Harosheth, and at
the ford near the city there is terrible loss. Only the fragments of a
ruined army find shelter within the gates.
Meanwhile Sisera, a coward at heart, more familiar with the parade
ground than fit for the stern necessities of war, leaves his chariot and
abandons his men to their fate, his own safety all his care. Seeking
that, it is not to Harosheth he turns. He takes his way across Gilboa
toward the very region which Barak has left. On a little plateau
overlooking the Sea of Galilee, near Kedesh, there is a settlement of
Kenites whom Sisera thinks he can trust. Like a hunted animal he presses
on over ridge and through defile till he reaches the black tents and
receives from Jael the treacherous welcome, "Turn in, my lord, turn in
to me; fear not." The pitiful tragedy follows. The coward meets at the
hand of a woman the death from which he has fled. Jael gives him
fermented milk to drink which, exhausted as he is, sends him into a deep
sleep. Then, as he lies helpless, she smites the tent-pin through his
temples.