_SAUL'S WILFULNESS._
1 SAMUEL xiv. 24-52.
That Saul was now suffering in character under the influence of the high
position and great power to which he had been raised, is only too
apparent from what is recorded in these verses. No doubt he pays more
respect than he has been used to pay to the forms of religion. He
enjoins a fast on his people at a very inconvenient time, under the idea
that fasting is a proper religious act. He is concerned for the trespass
of the people in eating their food with the blood. He builds the first
altar he ever built to God. He consults the oracle before he will commit
himself to the enterprise of pursuing the retreating enemy by night. He
is concerned to find the oracle dumb, and tries to discover through
whose sin it is so. For a ceremonial offence, committed by Jonathan in
ignorance, he fancies that God's displeasure has come down on the
people, and he not only insists that Jonathan shall die for this
offence, but confirms his decision by a solemn oath, sworn in the name
of God. All this shows Saul plunging and floundering from one mistake to
another, and crowning his blunders by a proposal so outrageous that the
indignation of the people arrests his purpose. The idea that the work of
the day shall be wound up by the execution of the youth through whom
all the wonderful deliverance has come, and that youth Saul's own son,
is one that could never have entered into any but a distempered brain.
Reason seems to have begun to stagger on her throne; the sad process has
begun which in a more advanced stage left Saul the prey of an evil
spirit, and in its last and most humiliating stage drove him to consult
with the witch of Endor.
But how are we to explain his increase of religiousness side by side
with the advance of moral obliquity and recklessness? Why should he be
more careful in the service of God while he becomes more imperious in
temper, more stubborn in will, and more regardless of the obligations
alike of king and father? The explanation is not difficult to find. The
expostulation of Samuel had given him a fright. The announcement that
the kingdom would not be continued in his line, and that God had found a
worthier man to set over His people Israel, had moved him to the quick.
There could be no doubt that Samuel was speaking the truth. Saul had
begun to disregard God's will in his public acts, and was now beginning
to reap the penalty. He felt that he must pay more attention to God's
will. If he was not to lose everything, he must try to be more
religious. There is no sign of his feeling penitent in heart. He is not
concerned in spirit for his unworthy behaviour toward God. He feels only
that his own interests as king are imperilled. It is this selfish motive
that makes him determine to be more religious. The fast, and the
consultation of the oracle, and the altar, and the oath that Jonathan
shall die, have all their origin in this frightened, selfish feeling.
And hence, in their very nature and circumstances, his religious acts
are unsuitable and unseemly. In place of making things better by such
services, he makes them worse; no peace of God falls like dew on his
soul; no joy is diffused throughout his army; discontent reaches a
climax when the death of Jonathan is called for; and tranquillity is
restored only by the rebellion of the people, rescuing their youthful
prince and hero.
Alas, how common has this spirit been in the history of the world! What
awful tragedies has it led to, what slaughter of heretics, what
frightful excesses disgraceful to kings, what outrages on the common
feelings of humanity! Louis XIV. has led a most wicked and profligate
life, and he has ever and anon qualms that threaten him with the wrath
of God. To avert that wrath, he must be more attentive to his religious
duties. He must show more favour to the Church, exalt her dignitaries to
greater honour, endow her orders and foundations with greater wealth.
But that is not all. He must use all the arms and resources of his
kingdom for ridding the Church of her enemies. For twenty years he must
harass the Protestants with every kind of vexatious interference,
shutting up their churches on frivolous pretexts, compelling them to
bury their dead by night, forbidding the singing of psalms in worship,
subjecting them to great injustice in their civil capacity, and at last,
by the revocation of the edict that gave them toleration, sweeping them
from the kingdom in hundreds of thousands, till hardly a Protestant is
left behind. What the magnificent monarch did on a large scale, millions
of obscurer men have done on a small. It is a sad truth that terror and
selfishness have been at the foundation of a great deal of that which
passes current as religion. Prayers and penances and vows and charities
in cases without number have been little better than premiums of
insurance, designed to save the soul from punishment and pain. Nor have
these acts been confined to that Church which, more than any other, has
encouraged men to look for saving benefit to the merit of their own
works. Many a Protestant, roused by his conscience into a state of
fright, has resolved to be more attentive to the duties of religion. He
will read his Bible more; he will pray more; he will give more; he will
go to church more. Alas, the spring of all this is found in no
humiliation for sin before God, no grief at having offended the Father,
no humble desire to be renewed in heart and conformed to the image of
the First-born! And the consequence is, as in the case of Saul, that
things go, not from bad to better, but from bad to worse. There is no
peace of God that passeth all understanding; there is no general
rectification of the disordered faculties of the soul; there is no token
of heavenly blessing, blessing to the man himself and blessing to those
about him. A more fiery element seems to come into his temper; a more
bitter tone pervades his life. To himself it feels as if there were no
good in trying to be better; to the world it appears as if religion put
more of the devil into him. But it is all because what he calls religion
is no religion; it is the selfish bargain-making spirit, which aims no
higher than deliverance from pain; it is not the noble exercise of the
soul, prostrated by the sense of guilt, and helpless through
consciousness of weakness, lifting up its eyes to the hills whence
cometh its help, and rejoicing in the grace that freely pardons all its
sin through the blood of Christ, and in the gift of the Holy Spirit that
renews and sanctifies the soul.
The first thing that Saul does, in the exercise of this selfish spirit,
is to impose on the people an obligation to fast until the day be over.
Any one may see that to compel fasting under such circumstances was
alike cruel and unwise. To fast in the solitude of one's chamber, where
there is no extra wear and tear of the bodily organs, and therefore no
special need for recruiting them, is comparatively safe and easy. But to
fast amid the struggles of battle or the hurry of a pursuit; to fast
under the burning sun and that strain of the system which brings the
keenest thirst; to fast under exertions that rapidly exhaust the thews
and sinews, and call for a renewal of their tissues--to fast in
circumstances like these involves an amount of suffering which it is not
easy to estimate. It was cruel in Saul to impose a fast at such a time,
all the more that, being commander-in-chief of the army, it was his duty
to do his utmost for the comfort of his soldiers. But it was unwise as
well as cruel; with energies impaired by fasting, they could not
continue the pursuit nor make the victory so telling. Perhaps he was
under the influence of the delusion that the more painful a religious
service is, the more is it acceptable to God. That idea of penance does
find a place in our natural notions of religion. Saul, as we have seen,
grew up with little acquaintance with religious persons and little
knowledge of Divine things; and now that perforce he is constrained to
attend to them, it is no wonder if he falls into many a serious error.
For he probably had no idea of that great rule of God's kingdom, "I will
have mercy, and not sacrifice."
The folly of Saul's order became apparent when the army came to a wood,
where, as is common enough in the country, a stream of wild honey poured
out, probably from the trunk of a hollow tree. Stretching out his rod
or spear, Jonathan fixed it in a piece of the comb, which he transferred
with his hand to his mouth. Immediately "his eyes were enlightened;" the
dull feeling which settles on the eyes amid fatigue and hunger
disappeared; and with the return of clear vision to his eyes, there
would come a restoration of vigour to his whole frame. When told for the
first time of the order which his father had given, he showed no regret
at having broken it, but openly expressed his displeasure at its having
ever been imposed. "Then said Jonathan, My father hath troubled the
land. See, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened, because I
tasted a little of this honey. How much more if haply the people had
eaten freely to-day of the spoil of their enemies which they found! for
had there not been a much greater slaughter among the Philistines?" We
must bear in mind that Jonathan was a true man of God. He had set out
that morning in his wonderful exploit in the true spirit of faith and
full consecration to God. He was in far nearer fellowship with God than
his father, and yet so far from approving of the religious order to fast
which his father had given, he regards it with displeasure and distrust.
Godly men will sometimes be found less outwardly religious than some
other men, and will greatly shock them by being so. The godly man has an
unction from the Holy One to understand His will; he goes straight to
the Lord's business; like our blessed Lord, he finishes the work given
him to do; while the merely religious man is often so occupied with his
forms, that, like the Pharisees, he neglects the structure for which
forms are but the scaffolding; in paying his tithes of mint, anise, and
cummin, he omits the weightier matters--justice, mercy, and truth.
But the evil caused by Saul's injudicious fast was not yet over. The
obligation to fast lasted only till sunset, and when the day was ended,
the people, faint and ravenous, flew upon the spoil--sheep, oxen, and
calves--and devoured them on the spot, without taking time or pains to
sever the blood from the flesh. To remedy this, Saul had a great stone
placed beside him, and ordered the people to bring every man his ox or
his sheep, and slay them on that stone, that he might see that the blood
was properly drained from the flesh. Then we gather from the marginal
reading of ver. 35 that he was proceeding to erect with the stone an
altar to God, but that he did not carry this purpose completely into
effect, because he determined to continue the pursuit of the
Philistines. He saw how much recruited his troops were by their food,
and he therefore determined to make a new assault. If it had not been
for the unwise order to fast given early in the day, if the people had
been at liberty to help themselves to the honey as they passed it, or to
such other refreshments as they found in their way, they would have been
some hours earlier in this pursuit, and it would have been so much the
more effectual.
It would seem, however, that the priest who was in attendance on Saul
was somewhat alarmed at the abrupt and rather reckless way in which the
king was making his plans and giving his orders. "Let us draw near
hither unto God," said he. Counsel was accordingly asked of God whether
Saul should go down after the Philistines and whether God would deliver
them into the hand of Israel. But to this inquiry no answer was given.
It was natural to infer that some sin had separated between God and
Saul, some iniquity had caused God to hide His face from him. Here was
a state of things that might well make Saul pause and examine himself.
Had he done so in an honest spirit, he could hardly have failed to find
out what was wrong. God had given a wonderful deliverance that day
through Jonathan. Jonathan was as remarkable for the power of faith as
Saul for the want of it. Jonathan had been wonderfully blessed that day,
but now that Saul, through the priest, sought to have a communication
with God, none was given. Might he not have seen that the real cause of
this was that Saul wanted what Jonathan possessed? Besides, was Saul
doing justice to Jonathan in taking the enterprise out of his hands? If
Jonathan began it, was he not entitled to finish it? Would not Saul have
been doing a thing alike generous and just had he stood aside at this
time, and called on Jonathan to complete the work of the day? If the
king of England was justified in not going to the help of the Black
Prince, serious though his danger was, but leaving him to extricate
himself, and thus enjoy the whole credit of his valour, might not Saul
have let his son end the enterprise which he had so auspiciously begun?
In these two facts, in the difference between him and Jonathan as to the
spirit of faith, and in the way in which Saul displaced the man whom God
so signally countenanced in the morning, the king of Israel might have
found the cause of the silence of the oracle. And the right thing for
him would have been to confess his error, stand aside, and call on
Jonathan to continue the pursuit and, if possible, exterminate the foe.
But Saul took a different course. He had recourse to the lot, to
determine the guilty party. Now, it does not appear that even the king
of Israel, with the priest at his side, was entitled to resort to the
lot to ascertain the mind of God except in cases where all natural
means of discovering it confessedly failed. But we have just seen that
in this case the natural means had not failed. Therefore there was no
obligation on God to order the lot supernaturally so as to bring out the
truth. In point of fact, the process ended so as to point to the very
last man in all the army to whom blame was due. It was, as
mathematicians say, a _reductio ad absurdum_. It is a proof that an
instrument is out of order if it brings out a result positively
ludicrous. If near the equator an instrument gives the latitude of the
polar circle, it is a proof that it is not working rightly. When the lot
pointed to Jonathan, it was a proof that it was not working rightly. Any
man might have seen this. And Saul ought to have seen it. And he ought
to have confessed that he was entirely out of his reckoning. Frankly and
cordially he should have taken the blame on himself, and at once
exonerated his noble son.
But Saul was in no mood to take the blame on himself. Nor had he moral
sagacity enough to see what an outrage it would be to lay the blame on
Jonathan. Assuming that he was guilty, he asked him what he had done. He
had done nothing but eat a little honey, not having heard the king's
order to abstain. The justification was complete. At worst, it was but a
ceremonial offence, but to Jonathan it was not even that. But Saul was
too obstinate to admit the plea. By a new oath, he devoted his son to
death. Nothing could show more clearly the deplorable state of his mind.
In the eye of reason and of justice, Jonathan had committed no offence.
He had given signal evidence of the possession in a remarkable degree of
the favour of God. He had laid the nation under inconceivable
obligations. All these pleas were for him; and surely in the king's
breast a voice might have been heard pleading, Your son, your
first-born, "the beginning of your strength, the excellency of dignity,
and the excellency of power"! Is it possible that this voice was
silenced by jealousy, jealousy of his own son, like his after-jealousy
of David? What kind of heart could this Saul have had when in such
circumstances he could deliberately say, "God do so, and more also, for
thou shalt surely die, Jonathan"?
But "the Divine right of kings to govern wrong" is not altogether
without check. A temporary revolution saved Jonathan. It was one good
effect of excitement. In calmer circumstances, the people might have
been too terrified to interfere. But now they were excited--excited by
their victory, excited by their fast followed by their meal, and excited
by the terror of harm befalling Jonathan. They had far clearer and more
correct apprehension of the whole circumstances than the king had. It is
especially to be noted that they laid great emphasis on the fact that
that day God had worked by Jonathan, and Jonathan had worked with God.
This made the great difference between him and Saul. "As the Lord
liveth, there shall not one hair of his head fall to the ground; for he
hath wrought with God this day. So the people rescued Jonathan, that he
died not."
The opportunity of inflicting further damage on the Philistines at this
time was thus lost through the moral obtuseness, recklessness, and
obstinacy of Saul. But in many a future campaign Saul as a warrior
rendered great service to the kingdom. He fought against all his enemies
on every side. On the east, the Moabites, the Ammonites, and the
Edomites had to be dealt with; on the north, the kings of Zobah; on the
south, the Amalekites; and on the west, the Philistines. These campaigns
are briefly stated, but we may easily see how much of hard military work
is implied in connection with each. We may understand, too, with what
honesty David, in his elegy over Saul and Jonathan, might commemorate
their warlike prowess: "From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the
mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul
returned not empty." Whether these military expeditions were conducted
in a better spirit than Saul shows in this chapter we cannot tell.
Whether further proofs were given of God's presence with Jonathan as
contrasted with his absence from Saul we do not know. It does not appear
that there was any essential improvement in Saul. But when Jonathan
again emerges from the obscurity of history, and is seen in a clear and
definite light, his character is singularly attractive--one of the
purest and brightest in the whole field of Scripture.
Evidently the military spirit ruled in Saul, but it did not bring peace
nor blessing to the kingdom. "He gathered an host," surrounded himself
with a standing army, so as to be ready and have an excuse for any
expedition that he wished to undertake. After a brief notice of Saul's
family, the chapter ends by telling us that "there was sore war against
the Philistines all the days of Saul; and when Saul saw any strong man
or any valiant man, he took him unto him." The Philistines were far from
being permanently subdued; there were not even intervals of peace
between the two countries. There was bitter war, an open sore,
perpetually bleeding, a terror on every side, never removed. How
different it might have been had that one day been better spent! how
different it would certainly have been had Saul been a man after God's
own heart! One day's misdeeds may bring a whole generation of sorrow,
for "one sinner destroyeth much good." Once off the right rail, Saul
never got on it again; rash and restless, he doubtless involved his
people in many a disaster, fulfilling all that Samuel had said about
_taking_ from the people, fulfilling but little that the people had
hoped concerning deliverance from the hand of the Philistines.
Who does not see what a fearful thing it is to leave God and His ways,
and give one's self up to the impulses of one's own heart? Fearful for
even the humblest of us, but infinitely fearful for one of great
resources and influence, with a whole people under him! How beautiful
some prayers in the Psalms sound after we have been contemplating the
wild career of Saul! "Show me Thy ways, O Lord; teach me in Thy paths.
Lead me in Thy truth and teach me, for Thou art the God of my salvation;
on Thee do I wait all the day." "Oh that my ways were directed to keep
Thy statutes! Then shall I not be ashamed, when I have respect unto all
Thy commandments."