_The Woe of the Prophet._
"What now?" Jeremiah asked himself.
Without an idea as to what his next move should be or where he should
now turn, he took the road leading to Anathoth.
A day and a night in the stocks and the smarting lashes at Pashhur's
hands, had given him a taste of martyrdom, and left him sick of heart
and soul. He wanted to go home! Yes, he would go home where he would
find, among his relatives and those dear to him, the shelter and
comfort and rest that he longed for so much. His heart yearned for
love and his soul for peace.
He turned northward. Head bent, spirit crushed, wounded in mind and in
body, he approached the town of his birth, where he had spent the
happy days of his youth, where he had received his call to prophesy,
that ended now in humiliation and disgrace.
The painful, bitter thoughts that passed through his mind were
suddenly disturbed by the noise of someone running toward him and
calling his name. Jeremiah looked up to see young Baruch, all out of
breath, coming toward him, both his arms waving in the air as if
giving a warning.
"Flee, master, flee!" Baruch cried, looking back in fear lest some one
was pursuing him or would overhear him.
"Baruch!" exclaimed Jeremiah, stretching out his arms in welcome. The
sight of the young man was the first moment of joy he had had since
his encounter with Pashhur.
Baruch did not hear the joyous note in his master's greeting. His face
was pale and he was trembling from head to foot. Mechanically he ran
into Jeremiah's embrace, but did not return it. Facing Anathoth and
pointing toward it, he whispered, rapidly, "They have devised devices
against thee, saying, 'Let us destroy the tree with the fruit thereof;
let us cut him off from the land of the living, that his name may be
no more remembered.'"
Jeremiah finally succeeded in calming Baruch and drew out of him the
fact that his cousins had conspired to kill him, and that, to save
himself, he must not enter Anathoth.
Jeremiah's family had been poor but respectable citizens of Anathoth
for many generations. They traced their ancestry back to Eli and to
the high priest, Abiathar, who served in the Temple during the time of
David, but whom Solomon banished to the suburb.
His relatives had always looked upon Jeremiah as the black sheep of
the family. Now, in addition to their poverty, he had cast ridicule
upon them by his actions, and contempt by his punishment in the
stocks. So they decided to put him out of the way and be rid of him,
once for all.
By this time the two men had reached the gray, barren hillside from
which the Jordan valley and the Dead Sea can be seen in the distance.
It was here where Jeremiah received his call and commission to be a
prophet to his people. With deep emotion did he now bewail his lot:
"Ah! I was like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter and I
knew it not."
The injustice and the unrighteousness of it all came to him more
forcibly at this place of sacred memories, and he cried:
"Oh, Lord God of Hosts, who judgest righteously, who triest
the heart and the mind, I shall see thy vengeance on them;
for unto thee have I revealed my cause."
In the bitterness of his spirit he could no longer restrain his woe.
Outcast and disgraced, persecuted in Jerusalem and his life sought for
by his own family, Jeremiah cursed the very day of his birth:
"Cursed be the day in which I was born.
Let not the day wherein my mother bore me be blessed.
Cursed be the man who brought joyful tidings to my father, saying,
'A man child is born to thee,' making him very glad.
Let that man be as the cities which the Lord pitilessly overthrew,
Because he did not let me die.
Why was I born to see labor and sorrow,
That my days should be consumed with shame?"
Baruch did not break in upon the grief and anguish of Jeremiah. He
turned away, sat down quietly at the foot of a tree and listened, with
a fast-beating beating heart, to the sobs that were racking the very
frame of his beloved teacher.
For a long time the two sat there, each engrossed in his own thoughts.
The tree-clad hills of Gilead, to the northeast of them, were now
bathed in the deep shadows cast by the rapidly setting sun. Baruch
walked over to Jeremiah and laid a light hand upon his shoulder.
Jeremiah felt his presence but did not raise his head.
"Master!" Baruch called softly.
Jeremiah looked up into a tear-stained face in which he read sympathy,
love and sincere devotion. He arose slowly. The lines of a faint smile
of appreciation played about his mouth. He grasped the young man in
his embrace and clung to him as if he were his only remaining hope.
"Baruch! Baruch!" he cried, in a tear-choked voice, and held him tight
and stroked his head and kissed his forehead. The boy melted into
tears in the man's almost crushing embrace, and his very soul went out
to him in sympathy and love.
There in the twilight, the bond of friendship had been established
between Jeremiah and Baruch, to be broken only in death!
Baruch attempted to comfort his friend, but he at once saw the
hopelessness of the task.
Then he suggested to Jeremiah that they run away, that they go to
Babylonia, to Egypt, anywhere, to escape the horror of it all at home.
But Jeremiah showed him the uselessness of trying to run away from
duty's call:
"And if I say, I will not think of it nor speak any more in
His name,
Then there is in mine heart, as it were, a burning fire shut up
in my bones."
There was a fire burning within the heart of Jeremiah, impelling him
to prophesy. He could not help himself! He would not escape it!
And, what is more, that day of woe and trial, and the night that
followed, bound up Baruch's destiny with that of Jeremiah.