"There is nothing," says Socrates to Cephalus in the _Republic_, "I
like better than conversing with aged men. For I regard them as
travellers who have gone a journey which I too may have to go, and of
whom it is right to learn the character of the way, whether it is
rugged or difficult, or smooth and easy" (p. 328 E.).
It is to such an aged traveller that we are introduced in the person of
Barzillai the Gileadite. And though he is one of the lesser-known
characters of Scripture--and we might perhaps never have heard of him
at all had it not been for his connection with King David--on the few
occasions on which he does appear he acts with an independence and
disinterestedness which are very striking.
The first of these occasions is at Mahanaim, in his own country of
Gilead. In the strong fortress there David and his companions had
taken refuge after the disastrous revolt of Absalom. Owing to their
hurried flight, the fugitives were wanting in almost all the
necessaries of life, and they could hardly fail also to have been a
little apprehensive of the kind of welcome the Gileadites would extend
to them. But if so, their fears were soon set at rest. Three of the
richest and most influential men in the district at once came to their
aid. Shobi the son of Nahash, and Machir the son of Ammiel, and
Barzillai the Gileadite of Rogelim, brought beds, and cups, and wheat,
and barley, and honey, and butter, and sheep--all, in fact, that was
needed--for David, and for the people that were with him: for they
said, "_The people is hungry, and weary, and thirsty, in the
wilderness_" (2 Sam. xvii. 29).
In so acting, the first of these, Shobi, may have been trying to atone
for his brother's insulting conduct when David had sent messengers to
comfort him on his father's death (2 Sam. x. 1-5);[1] and Machir as the
friend of Mephibosheth (2 Sam, ix. 4), was naturally grateful for the
king's kindness to the lame prince. But, as regards Barzillai, we know
of no such reasons for his conduct, and his generosity may, therefore,
be traced to the natural impulses of a kind and generous heart. In any
case, this unlooked-for sympathy and friendship had an arousing and
encouraging effect upon the king. He no longer despaired of his
fortunes, black though at the moment they looked, but, marshalling his
forces under three captains, prepared for war with his rebellious son;
with the result that in the forest of Ephraim Absalom's army was wholly
defeated, and the young prince himself treacherously slain.
With the death of its leader, the rebellion against David may be said
to have ended; but to the sorrow-stricken father victory at such a
price seemed an almost greater calamity than defeat would have been.
And it needed the strong, almost harsh, remonstrances of Joab to rouse
him from his grief, and lead him to think of his duty to his people.
At length, however, the homeward journey began, the king following the
same route by which so shortly before he had fled, until he came to the
banks of the Jordan, where a ferry-boat was in readiness to take him
and his household across (2 Sam. xix. 18). Before, however, he
crossed, several interesting interviews took place. Shimei, who had
cursed so shamelessly on the day of misfortune, was forgiven, and
received the promise of protection; Mephibosheth was restored to the
king's favour, and his old place at the king's table; and, what
specially concerns us at present, David had his final parting with
Barzillai.
The loyal chieftain, notwithstanding his eighty years, had come all the
way from his upland farm to bid farewell to his king, and see him
safely over Jordan. And as David remarked the old man's devotion, and
remembered his former favours, the wish seized him to attach him still
more closely to his person. "_Come thou over with me_," he said, "_and
I will feed thee with me in Jerusalem_" (2 Sam. xix. 33). It was from
one point of view a dazzling offer. Barzillai had seen enough of David
to know that what the king said he meant, and that if he chose to go
with him, honour and position awaited him at the court. But he would
not be moved. His grey hairs, if nothing else, stood in the way.
"_How long have I to live_," he answered, "_that I should go up with
the king unto Jerusalem_?" (verse 34). I am too old, that is, for such
a life as would there be expected of me. And, after all, why should
conduct such as mine meet with so great a reward? No! let me go a
little way over Jordan with the king, and then "_Let thy servant, I
pray thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine own city, and be
buried by the grave of my father and of my mother_." "_But_," he
hastened to add, as if anxious to show that he appreciated to the full
the king's generous offer, and saw the advantages it presented to those
who were able to enjoy them, "_behold thy servant Chimham_," my son,
"_let him go over with my lord the king; and do to him what shall seem
good unto thee_" (verse 37). With a plea so expressed, David could not
but acquiesce: "_The king kissed Barzillai, and blessed him; and he
returned unto his own place . . . and Chimham went on with him_"
(verses 39, 40), to become famous as the founder of a caravanserai, or
halting-place for pilgrims on the road between Jerusalem and Bethlehem,
which for at least four centuries continued to bear his name (Jer. xli.
17) and which may even, it has been conjectured, have been the same
which, at the time of the Christian era "furnished shelter for two
travellers with their infant child, when 'there was no room in the
inn.'"[2]
Round Barzillai's own name no such associations have gathered. After
his parting with David we do not hear of him again, if we except a
passing reference in David's dying instructions to Solomon, to "_shew
kindness unto the sons of Barzillai the Gileadite_" (1 Kings ii. 7),
and the mention, as late as the return from Babylon, of a family of
priests who traced their descent to a marriage with the Gileadite's
daughter, and prided themselves on the distinctive title of "_the
children of Barzillai_" (Ezra ii. 61). But in the absence of anything
to the contrary, we may be allowed to conjecture that, full of years
and experience, surrounded by all the love which his useful, helpful
life had called forth, Barzillai died in peace among his own people,
and was buried, as he had himself desired, by his parents' grave.
Such, then, is the story of Barzillai's life, so far as the Bible
reveals it to us. It is, as I have already said, as an old man that he
is principally brought before us, and in thinking of his character
further, it may be well to do so from this point of view, and see what
he has to teach us regarding a true old age. Four points at least
stand out clearly from the Bible narrative.