observing the want of seriousness and wisdom that marred them, we may
say that all he did was to make clear and deep the cleft between
Philistines and Hebrews. When he appears on the scene there are signs of
a dangerous intermixture of the two races, and his own marriage is one.
The Hebrews were apparently inclined to settle down in partial
subjection to the Philistines and make the best they could of the
situation, hoping perhaps that by-and-by they might reach a state of
comfortable alliance and equality. Samson may have intended to end that
movement or he may not. But he certainly did much to end it. After the
first series of his exploits, crowned by the slaughter at Lehi, there
was an open rupture with the Philistines which had the best effect on
Hebrew morals and religion. It was clear that one Israelite had to be
reckoned with whose strong arm dealt deadly blows. The Philistines drew
away in defeat. The Hebrews learned that they needed not to remain in
any respect dependent or afraid. This kind of division grows into
hatred; but, as things were, dislike was Israel's safety. The
Philistines did harm as masters; as friends they would have done even
more. Enmity meant revulsion from Dagon-worship and all the social
customs of the opposed race. For this the Hebrews were indebted to
Samson; and although he was not himself true all along to the principle
of separation, yet in his final act he emphasized it so by destroying
the temple of Gaza that the lesson was driven home beyond the
possibility of being forgotten.
It is no slight service those do who as critics of parties and churches
show them clearly where they stand, who are to be reckoned as enemies,
what alliances are perilous. There are many who are exceedingly easy in
their beliefs, too ready to yield to the _Zeit Geist_ that would
obliterate definite belief and with it the vigour and hope of mankind.
Alliance with Philistines is thought of as a good, not a risk, and the
whole of a party or church may be so comfortably settling in the new
breadth and freedom of this association that the certain end of it is
not seen. Then is the time for the resolute stroke that divides party
from party, creed from creed. A reconciler is the best helper of
religion at one juncture; at another it is the Samson who standing alone
perhaps, frowned on equally by the leaders and the multitude, makes
occasion to kindle controversy and set sharp variance between this side
and that. Luther struck in so. His great act was one that "rent
Christendom in twain." Upon the Israel which looked on afraid or
suspicious he forced the division which had been for centuries latent.
Does not our age need a new divider? You set forth to testify against
Philistines and soon find that half your acquaintances are on terms of
the most cordial friendship with them, and that attacks upon them which
have any point are reckoned too hot and eager to be tolerated in
society. To the few who are resolute duty is made difficult and protest
painful: the reformer has to bear the sins and even the scorn of many
who should appear with him.
XXII.
_PLEASURE AND PERIL IN GAZA._
JUDGES xvi. 1-3.
By courage and energy Samson so distinguished himself in his own tribe
and on the Philistine border that he was recognized as judge. Government
of any kind was a boon, and he kept rude order, as much perhaps by
overawing the restless enemy as by administering justice in Israel.
Whether the period of twenty years assigned to Samson's judgeship
intervened between the fight at Lehi and the visit to Gaza we cannot
tell. The chronology is vague, as might be expected in a narrative based
on popular tradition. Most likely the twenty years cover the whole time
during which Samson was before the public as hero and acknowledged
chief.
Samson went down to Gaza, which was the principal Philistine city
situated near the Mediterranean coast some forty miles from Zorah. For
what reason did he venture into that hostile place? It may, of course,
have been that he desired to learn by personal inspection what was its
strength, to consider whether it might be attacked with any hope of
success; and if that was so we would be disposed to justify him. As the
champion and judge of Israel he could not but feel the danger to which
his people were constantly exposed from the Philistine power so near to
them and in those days always becoming more formidable. He had to a
certain extent secured deliverance for his country as he was expected to
do; but deliverance was far from complete, could not be complete till
the strength of the enemy was broken. At great risk to himself he may
have gone to play the spy and devise, if possible, some plan of attack.
In this case he would be an example of those who with the best and
purest motives, seeking to carry the war of truth and purity into the
enemy's country, go down into the haunts of vice to see what men do and
how best the evils that injure society may be overcome. There is risk in
such adventure; but it is nobly undertaken, and even if we do not feel
disposed to imitate we must admire. Bold servants of Christ may feel
constrained to visit Gaza and learn for themselves what is done there.
Beyond this too is a kind of adventure which the whole church justifies
in proportion to its own faith and zeal. We see St. Paul and his
companions in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Athens and other heathen towns,
braving the perils which threaten them there, often attacked, sometimes
in the jaws of death, heroic in the highest sense. And we see the modern
missionary with like heroism landing on savage coasts and at the
constant risk of life teaching the will of God in a sublime confidence
that it shall awaken the most sunken nature; a confidence never at
fault.
But we are obliged to doubt whether Samson had in view any scheme
against the Philistine power; and we may be sure that he was on no
mission for the good of Gaza. Of a patriotic or generous purpose there
is no trace; the motive is unquestionably of a different kind. From his
youth this man was restless, adventurous, ever craving some new
excitement good or bad. He could do anything but quietly pursue a path
of duty; and in the small towns of Dan and the valleys of Judah he had
little to excite and interest him. There life went on in a dull way from
year to year, without gaiety, bustle, enterprise. Had the chief been
deeply interested in religion, had he been a reformer of the right kind
he would have found opportunity enough for exertion and a task into
which he might have thrown all his force. There were heathen images to
break in pieces, altars and high-places to demolish. To banish
Baal-worship and the rites of Ashtoreth from the land, to bring the
customs of the people under the law of Jehovah would have occupied him
fully. But Samson did not incline to any such doings; he had no passion
for reform. We never see in his life one such moment as Gideon and
Jephthah knew of high religious daring. Dark hours he had, sombre
enough, as at Lehi after the slaughter. But his was the melancholy of a
life without aim sufficient to its strength, without a vision matching
its energy. To suffer for God's cause is the rarest of joys and that
Samson never knew though he was judge in Israel.
We imagine then that in default of any excitement such as he craved in
the towns of his own land he turned his eyes to the Philistine cities
which presented a marked contrast. There life was energetic and gay,
there many pleasures were to be had. New colonists were coming in their
swift ships and the streets presented a scene of constant animation. The
strong eager man, full of animal passion, found the life he craved in
Gaza where he mingled with the crowds and heard tales of strange
existence. Nor was there wanting the opportunity for enjoyment which at
home he could not indulge. Beyond the critical observation of the
elders of Dan he could take his fill of sensual pleasure. Not without
danger of course. In some brawl the Philistines might close upon him.
But he trusted to his strength to escape from their hands, and the risk
increased the excitement. We must suppose that, having seen the nearer
and less important towns such as Ekron, Gath and Ashkelon he now
ventured to Gaza in quest of amusement, in order, as people say, to see
the world.
A constant peril this of seeking excitement, especially in an age of
high civilization. The means of variety and stimulus are multiplied, and
ever the craving outruns them, a craving yielded to, with little or no
resistance, by many who should know better. The moral teacher must
recognize the desire for variety and excitement as perhaps the chief of
all the hindrances he has now to overcome. For one who desires duty
there are scores who find it dull and tame and turn from it, without
sense of fault, to the gaieties of civilized society in which there is
"nothing wrong" as they say, or at least so little of the positively
wrong that conscience is easily appeased. The religious teacher finds
the demand for "brightness" and variety before him at every turn; he is
indeed often touched by it himself and follows with more or less of
doubt a path that leads straight from his professed goal. "Is amusement
devilish?" asks one. Most people reply with a smile that life must be
lively or it is not worth having. And the Philistinism that attracts
them with its dash and gaudiness is not far away nor hard to reach. It
is not necessary to go across to the Continent where the brilliance of
Vienna or Paris offers a contrast to the grey dulness of a country
village; nor even to London where amid the lures of the midnight
streets there is peril of the gravest kind. Those who are restless and
foolhardy can find a Gaza and a valley of Sorek nearer home, in the next
market town. Philistine life, lax in morals, full of rattle and glitter,
heat and change, in gambling, in debauchery, in sheer audacity of
movement and talk, presents its allurements in our streets, has its
acknowledged haunts in our midst. Young people brought up to fear God in
quiet homes whether of town or country are enticed by the whispered
counsels of comrades half ashamed of the things they say, yet eager for
more companionship in what they secretly know to be folly or worse.
Young women are the prey of those who disgrace manhood and womanhood by
the offers they make, the insidious lies they tell. The attraction once
felt is apt to master. As the current that rushes swiftly bears them
with it they exult in the rapid motion even while life is nearing the
fatal cataract. Subtle is the progress of infidelity. From the
persuasion that enjoyment is lawful and has no peril in it the mind
quickly passes to a doubt of the old laws and warnings. Is it so certain
that there is a reward for purity and unworldliness? Is not all the talk
about a life to come a jangle of vain words? The present is a reality,
death a certainty, life a swiftly passing possession. They who enjoy
know what they are getting. The rest is dismissed as altogether in the
air.
With Samson, as there was less of faith and law to fling aside, there
was less hardening of heart. He was half a heathen always, more
conscious of bodily than of moral strength, reliant on that which he
had, indisposed to seek from God the holy vigour which he valued little.
At Gaza where moral weakness endangered life his well-knit muscles
released him. We see him among the Philistines entrapped, apparently in
a position from which there is no escape. The gate is closed and
guarded. In the morning he is to be seized and killed. But aware of his
danger, his mind not put completely off its balance as yet by the
seductions of the place, he arises at midnight and, plucking the doors
of the city-gate from their sockets carries them to the top of a hill
which fronts Hebron.
Here is represented what may at first be quite possible to one who has
gone into a place of temptation and danger. There is for a time a power
of resolution and action which when the peril of the hour is felt may be
brought into use. Out of the house which is like the gate of hell, out
of the hands of vile tempters it is possible to burst in quick decision
and regain liberty. In the valley of Sorek it may be otherwise, but here
the danger is pressing and rouses the will. Yet the power of rising
suddenly against temptation, of breaking from the company of the impure
is not to be reckoned on. It is not of ourselves we can be strong and
resolute enough, but of grace. And can a man expect divine succour in a
harlot's den? He thinks he may depend upon a certain self-respect, a
certain disgust at vile things and dishonourable life. But vice can be
made to seem beautiful, it can overcome the aversion springing from
self-respect and the best education. In the history of one and another
of the famous and brilliant, from the god-like youth of Macedon to the
genius of yesterday the same unutterably sad lesson is taught us; we
trace the quick descent of vice. Self-respect? Surely to Goethe, to
George Sand, to Musset, to Burns that should have remained, a saving
salt. But it is clear that man has not the power of preserving himself.
While he says in his heart, That is beneath me; I have better taste; I
shall never be guilty of such a low, false and sickening thing--he has
already committed himself.
Samson heard the trampling of feet in the streets and was warned of
physical danger. When midnight came he lost no time. But he was too
late. The liberty he regained was not the liberty he had lost. Before he
entered that house in Gaza, before he sat down in it, before he spoke to
the woman there he should have fled. He did not; and in the valley of
Sorek his strength of will is not equal to the need. Delilah beguiles
him, tempts him, presses him with her wiles. He is infatuated; his
secret is told and ruin comes.
Moral strength, needful decision in duty to self and society and
God--few possess these because few have the high ideal before them, and
the sense of an obligation which gathers force from the view of
eternity. We live, most of us, in a very limited range of time. We think
of to-morrow or the day beyond; we think of years of health and joy in
this world, rarely of the boundless after-life. To have a stain upon the
character, a blunted moral sense, a scar that disfigures the mind seems
of little account because we anticipate but a temporary reproach or
inconvenience. To be defiled, blinded, maimed for ever, to be
incapacitated for the labour and joy of the higher world does not enter
into our thought. And many who are nervously anxious to appear well in
the sight of men are shameless when God only can see. Moral strength
does not spring out of such imperfect views of obligation. What availed
Samson's fidelity to the Nazirite vow when by another gate he let in the
foe?
The common kind of religion is a vow which covers two or three points of
duty only. The value and glory of the religion of the Bible are that it
sets us on our guard and strengthens us against everything that is
dangerous to the soul and to society. Suppose it were asked wherein our
strength lies, what would be the answer? Say that one after another
stood aside conscious of being without strength until one was found
willing to be tested. Assume that he could say, I am temperate, I am
pure; passion never masters me: so far the account is good. You hail him
as a man of moral power, capable of serving society. But you have to
inquire further before you can be satisfied. You have to say, Some have
had too great liking for money. Francis Bacon, Lord Chancellor of
England, notable in the first rank of philosophers, took bribes and was
convicted upon twenty-three charges of corruption. Are you proof against
covetousness? because if you can be tempted by the glitter of gold
reliance cannot be placed upon you. And again it must be asked of the
man--Is there any temptress who can wind you about her fingers, overcome
your conscientious scruples, wrest from you the secret you ought to keep
and make you break your covenant with God, even as Delilah overcame
Samson? Because, if there is, you are weaker than a vile woman and no
dependence can be placed upon you. We learn from history what this kind
of temptation does. We see one after another, kings, statesmen, warriors
who figure bravely upon the scene for a time, their country proud of
them, the best hopes of the good centred in them, suddenly in the midst
of their career falling into pitiable weakness and covering themselves
with disgrace. Like Samson they have loved some woman in the valley of
Sorek. In the life of to-day instances of the same pitiable kind occur
in every rank and class. The shadow falls on men who held high places
in society or stood for a time as pillars in the house of God.
Or, taking another case, one may be able to say, I am not avaricious, I
have fidelity, I would not desert a friend nor speak a falsehood for any
bribe; I am pure; for courage and patriotism you may rely upon me:--here
are surely signs of real strength. Yet that man may be wanting in the
divine faithfulness on which every virtue ultimately depends. With all
his good qualities he may have no root in the heavenly, no spiritual
faith, ardour, decision. Let him have great opposition to encounter,
long patience to maintain, generosity and self-denial to exercise
without prospect of quick reward--and will he stand? In the final test
nothing but fidelity to the Highest, tried and sure fidelity to God can
give a man any right to the confidence of others. That chain alone which
is welded with the fire of holy consecration, devotion of heart and
strength and mind to the will of God is able to bear the strain. If we
are to fight the battles of life and resist the urgency of its
temptations the whole divine law as Christ has set it forth must be our
Nazirite vow and we must count ourselves in respect of every obligation
the bondmen of God. Duty must not be a matter of self-respect but of
ardent aspiration. The way of our life may lead us into some Gaza full
of enticements, into the midst of those who make light of the names we
revere and the truths we count most sacred. Prosperity may come with its
strong temptations to pride and vainglory. If we would be safe it must
be in the constant gratitude to God of those who feel the responsibility
and the hope that are kindled at the cross, as those who have died with
Christ and now live with Him unto God. In this redeemed life it may be
almost said there is no temptation; the earthly ceases to lure, gay
shows and gauds cease to charm the soul. There still are comforts and
pleasures in God's world, but they do not enchain. A vision of the
highest duty and reality overshines all that is trivial and passing. And
this is life--the fulness, the charm, the infinite variety and strength
of being. "How can he that is dead to the world live any longer
therein?" Yet he lives as he never did before.
In the experience of Samson in the valley of Sorek we find another
warning. We learn the persistence with which spiritual enemies pursue
those whom they mark for their prey. It has been said that the
adversaries of good are always most active in following the best men
with their persecutions. This we take leave to deny. It is when a man
shows some weakness, gives an opportunity for assault that he is pressed
and hunted as a wounded lion by a tribe of savages. The occasion was
given to the Philistines by Samson's infatuation. Had he been a man of
stern purity they would have had no point of attack. But Delilah could
be bribed. The lords of the Philistines offered her a large sum to
further their ends, and she, a willing instrument, pressed Samson with
her entreaties. Baffled again and again she did not rest till the reward
was won.
We can easily see the madness of the man in treating lightly, as if it
were a game he was sure to win, the solicitations of the adventuress.
"The Philistines be upon thee, Samson"--again and again he heard that
threat and laughed at it. The green withes, the new ropes with which he
was bound were snapped at will. Even when his hair was woven into the
web he could go away with web and beam and the pin with which they had
been fixed to the ground. But if he had been aware of what he was doing
how could he have failed to see that he was approaching the fatal
capitulation, that wiles and blandishments were gaining upon him? When
he allowed her to tamper with the sign of his vow it was the presage of
the end.
So it often is. The wiles of the spirit of this world are woven very
cunningly. First the "over-scrupulous" observance of religious
ordinances is assailed. The tempter succeeds so far that the Sabbath is
made a day of pleasure: then the cry is raised, "The Philistines be upon
thee." But the man only laughs. He feels himself quite strong as yet,
able for any moral task. Another lure is framed--gambling, drinking. It
is yielded to moderately, a single bet by way of sport, one deep draught
on some extraordinary occasion. He who is the object of persecution is
still self-confident. He scorns the thought of danger. A prey to
gambling, to debauchery? He is far enough from that. But his weakness is
discovered. Satanic profit is to be made out of his fall; and he shall
not escape.
It is true as ever it was that the friendship of the world is a snare.
When the meshes of time and sense close upon us we may be sure that the
end aimed at is our death. The whole world is a valley of Sorek to weak
man, and at every turn he needs a higher than himself to guard and guide
him. He is indeed a Samson, a child in morals, though full-grown in
muscle. There are some it is true who are able to help, who if they were
beside in the hour of peril would interpose with counsel and warning and
protection. But a time comes to each of us when he has to go alone
through the dangerous streets. Then unless he holds straight forward,
looking neither to right hand nor left, pressing towards the mark, his
weakness will be quickly detected, that secret tendency scarcely known
to himself by which he can be most easily assailed. Nor will it be
forgotten if once it has been discovered. It is now the property of a
legion. Be it vanity or avarice, ambition or sensuousness, the
Philistines know how to gain their end by means of it. There is strength
indeed to be had. The weakest may become strong, able to face all the
tempters in the world and to pass unscathed through the streets of Gaza
or the crowds of Vanity Fair. Nor is the succour far away. Yet to
persuade men of their need and then to bring them to the feet of God are
the most difficult of tasks in an age of self-sufficiency and spiritual
unreason. Harder than ever is the struggle to rescue the victims of
worldly fashion, enticement and folly: for the false word has gone forth
that here and here only is the life of man and that renouncing the
temporal is renouncing all.
XXIII.
_THE VALLEY OF SOREK AND OF DEATH._
JUDGES xvi. 4-31.
The strong bold man who has blindly fought his battles and sold himself
to the traitress and to the enemy,
"Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves,"
the sport and scorn of those who once feared him, is a mournful object.
As we look upon him there in his humiliation, his temper and power
wasted, his life withered in its prime, we almost forget the folly and
the sin, so much are we moved to pity and regret. For Samson is a
picture, vigorous in outline and colour, of what in a less striking way
many are and many more would be if it were not for restraints of divine
grace. A fallen hero is this. But the career of multitudes without the
dash and energy ends in the like misery of defeat; nothing done, not
much attempted, their existence fades into the sere and yellow leaf.
There has been no ardour to make death glorious.
Every man has his defects, his besetting sins, his dangers. It is in the
consciousness of our own that we approach with sorrow the last scenes of
the eventful history of Samson. Who dares cast a stone at him? Who can
fling a taunt as he is seen groping about in his blindness?
"A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on.
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade;
There I am wont to sit when any chance
Relieves me from my task of servile toil.
O dark, dark, dark amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
Without all hope of day:"