To feel the force of the exclamation on the lips of Joash, we must try
to make clear to ourselves what its original meaning was. What did
Elisha intend when he stood beyond Jordan, and in wonder and awe
exclaimed, 'The chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof'?
It does not seem to me that the interpretation of the words now in
favour is at all satisfactory. It tells us that the expression is to be
taken as in apposition with the exclamation 'My father, my father'; and
that both the one phrase and the other mean--Elijah! Yet what a
preposterous and strange metaphor it would be to call a man a chariot
and pair, or a chariot and cavalry! It seems to me that the very
statement of this explanation, in plain English, condemns it as
untenable. It is surely less probable that Elisha in that exclamation
was describing Elijah than that he was speaking of that wondrous
chariot of fire and horses of fire that had come between him and his
master, and that his exclamation was one of surprised adoration as he
gazed with wide-opened eyes on the burning angel-hosts, and saw his
master mysteriously able to bear that fire, ringed round by these
flaming squadrons, possibly standing unscathed on the floor of the
chariot, and swept with it and all the celestial pomp, by the
whirlwind, into heaven.
But why should he say 'the chariot of _Israel_'? I think we take for
granted too readily that 'Israel' here means the nation. You will
remember that that name was not originally that of the nation, but of
its progenitor and founder, given to Jacob as the consequence and
record of that mysterious wrestling by the brook. And I think we get a
nobler signification for the words before us if, instead of applying
the name to the nation, we apply it here to the individual. When Elijah
and Elisha crossed Jordan they were not far from the spot where that
name was given to Jacob, 'the supplanter,' whom discipline and
communion with God had elevated into Israel. And they were near another
of the sites consecrated by his history, the place where, just before
the change of his name, the angels of God met him and 'he called the
name of the place Mahanaim.' That means '_the two camps_,' the one,
Jacob's defenceless company of women and children, the other, their
celestial guards.
It seems reasonable to suppose that, in all probability, a reminiscence
of that old story of the manifestation of the armed angels of God as
the defenders and servants of His children broke from Elisha's lips. As
he looks upon that strange appearance of the chariot and horses of fire
that parted him and his friend, he sees once more 'the chariot of
Israel and the horsemen thereof,' the reappearance of the shining
armies whose presence had of old declared that 'the angel of the Lord
encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them.' And now
the same hosts in their immortal youth, unweakened by the ages which
have brought earthly warriors to dust and their swords to rust, are
flaming and flashing there in the midday sun. What was their errand,
and why did they appear? They came, as God's messengers, to bear His
servant to His presence. They attested the commission and devotion of
the prophet. Their agency was needful to lift a mortal to skies not
native to him. Strange that a body of flesh should be able to endure
that fiery splendour! Somewhere in the course of that upward movement
must this man, who was caught up to meet the Lord in the air, have been
'changed.' His guards of honour were not only for tokens of his
prophetic work, but for witnesses of the unseen world and in some sort
pledges, suited to that stage of revelation, of life and immortality.
How striking is the contrast between the translation of Elijah and the
Ascension of Christ! He who ascended up where He was before needed no
whirlwind, nor chariot of fire, nor extraneous power to elevate Him to
His home. Calmly, slowly, as borne upwards by indwelling affinity with
heaven, He floated thither with outstretched hands of blessing. The
servant angels did not need to surround Him, but, clad no longer in
fiery armour, but 'in white apparel,' the emblem of purity and peace,
they stood by the disciples and comforted them with hope. Elijah was
carried to heaven. Christ went. The angels disappeared with the prophet
and left Elisha to grieve alone. They lingered here after Christ had
gone, and turned tears into rainbows flashing with the hues of hope.
II. We have in our second text the chariot and horsemen present though
unseen.
We are now in a position to appreciate the meaning of Joash's
repetition to Elisha of his own words, spoken under such different
circumstances.
Elisha was by no means so great a prophet as Elijah. His work had not
been so conspicuous, his character was not so strong, though perhaps
more gentle. No such lofty and large influence had been granted to him
as had been given to the fiery Tishbite to wield, nor did he leave his
mark so deep upon the history of the times or upon the memory of
succeeding generations. But such as it had been given him to be he had
been. He was a continuer, not an originator. There had been a long
period during which he appears to have lived in absolute retirement,
exercising no prophetic functions. We never hear of him during the
interval between the anointing of Jehu to the Israelitish monarchy and
the time of his own death, and that period must have extended over
nearly fifty years. After all these years of eclipse and seclusion he
was lying dying somewhere in a corner, and the king, young but
impressible, although, on the whole, not reliable nor good, came down
to the prophet's home, and there, standing by the pallet of the dying
man, repeated the words, so strangely reminiscent of a very different
event--' My father, my father! the chariot of Israel and the horsemen
thereof!'
And what does that exclamation mean? Two things. One is this, that the
angels of the Divine Presence are with us as truly, in life, when
unseen as if seen. So far as we know, it was only to Elisha that the
vision had been granted of that chariot of fire and horses of fire. We
read that at Elijah's translation on the other side of Jordan, and
consequently at no great distance off, there stood a company of the
sons of the prophets from Jericho to see what would happen, but we do
not read that they did see. On the contrary, they were inclined to
believe that Elijah had been caught up and flung away somewhere on the
mountains, and that it was worth while to organise search-parties to go
after him. It was only Elisha that saw, and Elijah did not know whether
he would see or not, for he said to him, 'If thou shalt see me when I
am taken from thee, then' thy desire shall be granted.
The angels of God are visible to the eyes that are fit to see them; and
those eyes can always see them. It does not matter whether in a miracle
or in a common event--it does not matter whether on the stones by the
banks of Jordan or in a close sick chamber, they are visible for those
who, by pure hearts and holy desires, have had their vision purged from
the intrusive vulgarities and dazzling brightnesses of this poor, petty
present, and can therefore see beneath all the apparent the real that
blazes behind it.
The scenes at Jordan and in the death-chamber are not the only times in
Elisha's life when we read of these chariots and horses of fire. There
was another incident in his career in which the same phrase occurs.
Once his servant was terrified at the sight of a host compassing the
little city where Elisha and he were, with horses and chariots, and
came to his master with alarm and despair, crying, 'Alas! my master,
how shall we do?' The prophet answered with superb calmness, 'Fear not:
for they that be with us are more than they that be with them ....
Lord, I pray Thee, open his eyes that he may see. And the Lord opened
the eyes of the young man, and he saw; and, behold, the mountain was
full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.' They had
always been there, though no one saw them. They were there when no one
but Elisha saw them. They were no more there when the young man saw
them than they had been before. They did not cease to be there when the
film came over his eyes again, and the common round took him back to
the trivialities of daily life.
And so from the mouth of this not very devout king the prophet was
reminded of his own ancient experiences, and invited to feel that,
unseen or seen, the solemn forms stood 'bright-harnessed,' and strong,
'in order serviceable,' ranged about him for his defence and blessing.
And are they not round about us? If a man can but look into the
realities of things, will he see only the work of men and of the forces
of nature? Will there not be--far more visible as they are far more
real than any of these--the forces of the Eternal Presence and ever
operative Will of our Father in Heaven? We need not discuss the
personality of angels. An angel is the embodiment of the will and
energy of God, and we have that will and energy working for us, whether
there are any angel persons about us or not. Scripture declares that
there are, and that they serve us. We may be sure that if only we will
honestly try to purge our eyes from the illusions and temptations of
'things seen and temporal,' the mountain or the sick chamber will be to
us equally full of the angel forms of our defenders and companions.
Do we see them for ourselves; and, not less important, do we, like
Elisha, lying there on his deathbed, help else blind men to see them,
and make every one that comes beside us, even if he be as little
impressible and as little devout as this king Joash was, recognise that
in our chambers there sit, and round our lives there flutter and sing,
sweet and strong angel wings and voices? Will anybody, looking at you,
be constrained to feel that with and around you are the angels of God?
Still further, another cognate application of these great words is that
one which is more directly suggested by their quotation by Joash. It
does not matter in what way the end of life comes. The reality is the
same to all devout men; though one be swept to heaven in a whirlwind,
and another lady slowly away in old age, or 'fall sick of the sickness
wherewith he should die.' Each is taken to God in a chariot of fire.
The means are of little moment, the fact remains the same, however
diverse may be the methods of its accomplishment. The road is the same,
the companions the same, the impelling--I was going to say the
locomotive--power, is the same, and the goal is the same.
Of Enoch we read, 'He was not, for God took him.' Of Elijah we read,
'He went up in a whirlwind to heaven.' Of Elisha we read, 'He died and
they buried him.' And of all three--the two who were translated that
they should not see death, and the one who died like the rest of us--it
is equally true that 'God took' them, and that they were taken to Him.
So for ourselves and for our dear ones we may look forward or backward,
to deathbeds of weariness, of lingering sickness, of long pain and
suffering, or of swift dissolution, and piercing beneath the surface
may see the blessed central reality and thankfully feel that Death,
too, is God's angel, who' does His commandments, hearkening to the
voice of God's word' when in his dark hearse he carries us hence.