Greater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 346. Naboth's Vineyard

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Greater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 346. Naboth's Vineyard


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Naboth's Vineyard



1. When Elijah's moral indignation once more flashes out against the house of Ahab, it is not for the destruction of idolatry but in the cause of justice and humanity that he appears. He has become the champion of the civil and moral rights of the people. Ahab violates the ancient laws of property, which are the charter of the people's liberties, by forcibly alienating the vineyard of Naboth. He deepens his guilt by allowing his wife to compass the innocent man's ruin by peculiarly nefarious means. This crime is the signal for Elijah's reappearance at Jezreel. On the day after Naboth's murder, the king is proceeding in state to take possession of the coveted garden, when, with the lightning-like suddenness so characteristic of all his movements, Elijah, in his hairy garment and leathern girdle, starts up before him, and rolls out the thunder of a new and terrible denunciation: “Thus saith the Lord, Hast thou killed, and also taken possession? Thus saith the Lord, In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine.”



Elijah's old heroic faith had revived in him again. His spirit had regained its wonted posture in the presence of Jehovah. His nature had returned to its equipoise in the will of God. It was nothing to him that there rode behind Ahab's chariot two ruthless captains, Jehu and Bidkar. He did not for a moment consider that the woman who had threatened his life before might now take it, maddened as she was with her recent draught of human blood. Every word spoken by Elijah was literally fulfilled. Jehovah put His own seal upon His servant's words.



The Hebrew prophets stood amid their compatriots and denounced the abuses of the times-sensuality, rapacity, cruelty, mal-administration. They were citizens and patriots, and for that very reason they are nearer to us and strike a more modern note than the writers of the New Testament epistles, who were so obsessed with the idea of the near end of all things that the concerns of civic life faded away almost to nothingness. The prophets, so far from reflecting the political and religious opinions of their day, stood alone and made their protest. Every one of them is opposed to the judgment of the multitude, and their strife is with custom, tradition, the law, popular usage. Nearly all of them were great tragic figures, dwelling in a solitude difficult for our imaginations to picture. Attempts were made to silence them; they were derided and persecuted. It is sufficient to recall the salient facts of the career of Elijah, of Amos, or of Isaiah, or of Jeremiah, concerning whom it was written, “I have made thee this day a strong city, and an iron pillar, and brasen walls against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land” (Jer_1:18). With great differences in temperament and capacity they had certain marked characteristics in common, so that the reader who understands one is in the way to understand all. They had nothing like a creed in common, nothing that could be called the creed of the goodly fellowship of prophets; but they all had an over-mastering sense of a God of righteousness. That sense made and consecrated them prophets, as we use the name. They were distinguished by their realization of righteousness as Divine, which is equivalent to saying that they were called to the office of prophet by their realization of God as a supremely ethical Being.1 [Note: B. J. Snell, The Value of the Old Testament, 128.]



2. The episode of Naboth's vineyard produced a great change in popular sentiment. It revealed the true character of the issues in Elijah's conflict against idolatry. It showed the people that, while idolatry went hand in hand with injustice and crime, the religion of Jehovah was the bulwark of righteousness and liberty. At the same time, it opened their eyes to the real grandeur of the prophet in their midst, and doubtless we are to date from this event a great increase in his power as the prophet of Jehovah. The nation was full of the spirit of mutiny against the bloody and idolatrous house of Ahab. And, when the prophet went to anoint Jehu the son of Nimshi, so ripe was the time for a change that the army immediately hailed the new monarch, crying, “God save king Jehu!” And the carnage that followed in Ahab's house was terrible and complete.



The measure of Dante's sternness must be found in his intense sense of righteousness. Beyond almost all else but love, his conviction of the eternal rule of truth and righteousness possesses his soul. All his prepossessions, his theological theories, his political preferences, his tastes, and his personal sympathies must give way before the demands of the eternal right. He was a true Catholic: he had reverence for the Holy See; he took a deep interest in doctrinal discussions and conformed his views to those of recognized doctors of the Church; but greater than all ecclesiastical or theological matters was the ethical order of the universe; he could submit theories to orthodox opinions and customs to Church rule, but he could not put his conscience in pawn or believe that official authority could set aside the everlasting laws of righteousness.1 [Note: W. Boyd Carpenter, The Spiritual Message of Dante, 98.]



The history of Europe has been a history of struggles to be free from injustice and tyranny. Too frequently hasty and ill-considered measures were adopted, and appeals to arms ended in slaughter. The marvel is that freedom was ever gained anywhere, considering the subject state of the oppressed, and the power and influence of the oppressors. Holland and Switzerland, Italy and Scotland, and many more downtrodden States, are free to-day, because they refused to accept as impracticable all attempts to gain their freedom. Submission to injustice is right within limits, but it shall not be for ever. My poor forefathers were shot like partridges on the moors of Scotland, because they claimed the right to worship God as their conscience led them; and, strange to say, it was a rampant ecclesiasticism which prompted the persecution. I do not defend the Covenanters in their methods of resistance. The times were wild, and no hand to help, and much allowance should be made for desperate provocation and bloody treatment. But few men can enter into the heart of a Covenanter unless his blood is in their veins, or unless they themselves are brought face to face with the re-enacted horrors of the past.2 [Note: Mackay of Uganda, 348.]