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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 348. The Chariot of Fire
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The Chariot of Fire
The man whom Nature has appointed to do great things is, first of all, furnished with that openness to Nature which renders him incapable of being in sincere! To his large, open, deep-feeling heart Nature is a Fact: all hearsay is hearsay; the unspeakable greatness of this Mystery of Life, let him acknowledge it or not, nay even though he seem to forget it or deny it, is ever present to him,-fearful and wonderful, on this hand and on that. He has a basis of sincerity; unrecognized, because never questioned or capable of question. Mirabeau, Mahomet, Cromwell, Napoleon: all the Great Men I ever heard of have this as the primary material of them. Innumerable commonplace men are debating, are talking everywhere their commonplace doctrines, which they have learned by logic, by rote, at second-hand: to that kind of man all this is still nothing. He must have truth; truth which he feels to be true. How shall he stand otherwise? His whole soul, at all moments, in all ways, tells him that there is no standing. He is under the noble necessity of being true.1 [Note: Carlyle, On Heroes and Hero-Worship.]
2. For the last time Elijah surveyed, from the heights of the western Gilgal, the whole scene of his former career-the Mediterranean Sea, Carmel, and the distant hills of Gilead-and went the round of the consecrated haunts of Gilgal, Bethel, Jericho. One faithful disciple was with him-Elisha, who would not be persuaded to leave his master's side. Ever and again, the answer to his “Tarry here, I pray thee; for the Lord hath sent me to Bethel, to Jericho, to Jordan” was, “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee.” At Bethel, and at Jericho, the students in the schools that had gathered round those sacred spots came out with the sad presentiment that for the last time they were to see the revered instructor who had given new life to their studies; and they turned to their fellow-disciple: “Knowest thou not that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day?” Elisha silenced them, half in sorrow, half in anger: sorrow for his own approaching loss, anger at hearing that which was so sacred and precious to himself lightly spoken of. He would cling to his master to the last, come what might. At length the two stood together by the side of the Jordan. Elijah smote the waters with his mantle, and they parted and made room for the two friends to pass over on dry ground.
Jordan has not only been associated with the figures of two of Israel's greatest prophets-Elijah and John the Baptist-but with the bestowal, at their hands, of the Spirit upon their successors. We are not to be surprised that as his end approached Elijah should feel himself driven towards that border, across which he had first burst so mysteriously upon Israel, and to which he had withdrawn while waiting for his word to accomplish itself. Stage by stage, he came down from the high centre of the land to its lowest, lonely, crumbling shelves. So he and Elisha, leaving the sons of the prophets behind, passed down the falling land as the great planets pass to their setting through the groups of lesser stars. The mountains of The-Other-Side filled the view ahead of them, and in these mountains lay the sepulchre of Moses. He, who in his helplessness had already fled for new inspiration to Horeb, could not fail to wonder whether God was to lay him to rest beside his forerunner on Nebo. In front there was no promised land visible-nothing but that high sky-line eastward with the empty heaven above it. Behind there was no nation waiting to press into the future-nothing but that single follower who persisted in following to the end. And so, the story tells us, the end came. The river that had drawn back at a nation's feet parted at the stroke of one man, and as he suddenly passed away to the God from whom he had suddenly come, it was one man whom he acknowledged as his heir, and to whom he left his spirit. Realize these two lonely figures standing in that unpeopled wilderness, the State invisible, the Church left behind in impotent gaze and wonder, and nothing passing between these two men except from the one the tribute to personal worth, and from the other the influence of personal spirit and force-realize all this on the lonely bank of Jordan, and you understand the beginnings of prophecy-the new dispensation in which the instrument of the Most High was to be not the State and its laws, not the army and its victories, not even the Church and her fellowship, but the spirit of the individual man. Not in vain does the story tell us that it was with his mantle, symbol above all things of the Prophet, that Elijah smote the waters, and that Elisha smote them the second time on his return to his ministry. Jordan, that had owned the People of God, owns now the Prophet.1 [Note: G. A. Smith, The Historical Geography of the Holy Land, 493.]
3. And now they were on that farther shore, under the shade of those hills of Pisgah and of Gilead where, in former times, a prophet, greater even than Elijah, had been withdrawn from the eyes of his people; whence, in his early youth, Elijah himself had descended in his august career. He knew that his hour was come; he knew that he had at last returned home; that he was to go whither Moses had gone before him; his passions came back to all their first obedience, and to all their former splendid service, as he stood by Jordan and waited for his signal from God.
He turned to Elisha to ask for his last wish. One only gift was in Elisha's mind to ask: he asked “a double portion” of his master's spirit-not twice Elijah's inspiration, but the portion of an eldest son, who received twice as much as the younger sons (Deu_21:17). Elijah replied that it was a hard request. Spiritual gifts are the most difficult of all to transmit. Nevertheless, he assured his follower that, if he proved his fitness for prophetic gifts by remaining with his master to the end, and looking without fear on the dread messengers of the invisible world, his request would not be denied. And as they still went on-upwards, it may be, towards the eastern hills, talking as they went-“behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder.” This was the severance of the two friends. Then came a furious storm. “And Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” And Elisha saw it. He gazed without flinching upon the strange and marvellous vision, and cried after the departing friend, “My father, my father; the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof.”
The fiery chariot and the horses were the emblem of Jehovah of Hosts. To behold this emblem was pledge of perceiving the manifestation of God, unseen by the world, and of being its herald and messenger, as Elijah had been. Beyond the fact that Elijah so went up to heaven, and that the symbolic manifestation of Jehovah of Hosts was visible to Elisha-Holy Scripture does not tell us anything. And it seems both wiser and more reverent not to speculate further on questions connected with the removal of Elijah, the place whither, and the state to which he was “translated.” If we put aside such inquiries-since we possess not the means of pursuing them to their conclusions-there is nothing in the simple Scriptural narrative, however miraculous, that transcends the general sphere of the miraculous, or that would mark this as so exceptional an instance that the ordinary principles for viewing the miracles of Scripture would not apply to it.
Elijah's end was in keeping with his career. From his first abrupt appearance it had been fitly symbolized by the stormy wind and flaming fire which he heard and saw at Horeb, and now these were the vehicles which swept him into the heavens. He came like a whirlwind, he burned like a fire, and in fire and whirlwind he disappeared.
The actual translation of Elijah is recorded in those words: “And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” Compare with this the Ascension of our blessed Lord: “And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.” The placing of one account side by side with the other is very instructive, and suggests many points of comparison. Elijah is translated, a chariot of fire and horses of fire are commissioned to snatch him away from the earth, and carry him to heaven; but our Lord is borne upward by His innate power; He is not translated, He ascends. He came from heaven, and He returns to heaven, as to His natural home. The wonder is, not that He should now at length go to heaven, but that He should so long have tarried upon earth. Calmly, majestically, He ascends, carrying with Him that body which He had redeemed from the grave. No fire-chariot is needed for Him; and why? There is nothing of earthly dross requiring to be burnt out of Him, no wondrous transformation, no last baptism of cleansing fire before He can endure to pass into the presence of His Father; but such as He was upon earth, exactly such He passes into the heavens. No shock, no whirlwind, no violent rapture in His case; for in His Ascension there is no breach of the laws of His natural life, but all is in exactest conformity with them. Surely in all this matter the comparison between the servant and the Son brings out to us the greatness indeed of both; but at the same time the transcendent superiorities of the Son, who in all things hath the pre-eminence.1 [Note: Archbishop Trench, Sermons New and Old, 6.]
4. Elijah was thus removed from the scene of his labours before the whole task laid upon him was finished. But Elisha and others entered into his labours; sons of the prophets animated by his spirit were raised up in hundreds, his teaching spread, his spirit penetrated the nation. Then the harvest was reaped. After two short reigns the idolatrous house of Ahab fell. The enemies of Jehovah and Elijah perished. Superstition dies hard, but there was never again any question of rivalry between Jehovah and Baal. There was no more danger of Baal-worship becoming the national religion. It sank into the superstition of a sect, known to later prophets as the remnant of Baal (Zep_1:4).
The consequences of the struggle with the Tyrian Baal and of the victory of Jahvism were most important. Had the issue of the conflict been different, the existence of the Jahveh-worship would have been at stake; the averting of this danger alone was an important result. But further, from this period onward we find Jahvism enjoying undisputed possession of the honour and privileges of a national religion. We learn nothing more of any attempts to drive it from that position. It is true that the worship of other gods and the combination of their service with that of Jahveh still goes on, but the belief in “Jahveh the god of Israel” is assailed no longer. The prophets of the eighth century b.c. are able to start from it as an universal conviction. For this firm foundation for their preaching they had to thank Elijah and his school. But much more important still was the influence of the war between Baal and Jahveh upon the minds of those who had remained loyal to Jahveh and had stood in the breach for His cause. The saying that “the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church” was verified in this case also. Jahveh became more dear to them, their dependence upon Him more earnest than before, now that they had to bear persecution for His sake. Jahveh, His nature, His character, the difference between Him and the other gods: all this, through the course of events, becomes, for His faithful adherents, a subject of serious reflection, not exactly of calm, philosophical enquiry, but of that kind of meditation in which the voice of heart and conscience can make itself heard. The immediate future was to show what has since been confirmed by long experience, that “great thoughts come from the heart.”1 [Note: Kuenen, The Religion of Israel, i. 360.]
5. Elijah's moral power lay in the simplicity of his faith. He realized intensely the belief in Jehovah, and lived a heroic life in the strength of it. “Jehovah before whom I stand” was his favourite formula. He stood erect and haughty before kings; but in the presence of Jehovah he wrapped his head in his mantle, or crouched to the ground with his face between his knees. Stern and rugged by nature, a prophet moulded for heroic work in evil days, he was led through an experience which awakened in him the tenderness that is to be found only in union with strength. His personal history, especially the narrative of the breakdown and restoration of his faith, brings him into touch with human beings in all ages. He is so great that readers of his story are not unthankful for his failings. We echo the words of St. James and are thankful for them: “Elijah was a man of like passions with us.”
Elijah is the foremost of those great leaders of religion whom we call par excellence the Hebrew prophets. He “introduced into prophecy,” says Kittel (History of the Hebrews, ii. 266), “that species of categorical imperative which distinguishes him as well as the later prophets; that brazen inflexibility, that diamond-like hardness of character which bids them hold fast by their moral demand, even should the nation be dashed to pieces against it.” Moreover, the active life of Elijah illustrated the extent to which the prophets made their influence felt in the nation's public life. They exercised their ministry in close relation to the political circumstances of their time. They have been truly called “watchmen of the theocracy,” since they habitually followed with close interest the course of events, whether political or religious, and regarded it as their duty to intervene in public affairs from time to time in order to bring to the remembrance of their countrymen those fundamental religious truths on which the theocratic state was based, namely, that Jehovah alone was Israel's God, that Israel was His chosen people, and that His supreme requirement was the observance by the nation of the revealed law of righteousness. Thus they aimed at keeping Israel faithful to Jehovah, as He had manifested Himself at Sinai-as a God who delighted in pure worship, in righteous dealing, and in fraternal charity between man and Man_1:2 [Note: R. L. Ottley, The Hebrew Prophets, 9.]
Servant of God, thy fight is fought;
Servant of God, thy crown is wrought:
Lingerest thou yet upon the joyless earth?
Thy place is now in Heaven's high bowers,
Far from this mournful world of ours,
Among the sons of light, that have a different birth.
Sons of the Prophets, do ye still
Look through the wood and o'er the hill,
For him, your lord, whom ye may ne'er behold?-
O dreamers, call not him, when day
Fades in the dewy vale away,
Nor when glad morning crests the lofty rocks with gold!
Peace! call that honoured name no more,
By Jordan's olive-girdled shore,
By Kedron's brook, or Siloa's holy fount;
Nor where the fragrant breezes rove
Through Bethel's dim and silent grove,
Nor on the rugged top of Carmel's sacred mount.
Henceforth ye never more may meet,
Meek learners, at your master's feet,
To gaze on that high brow, those piercing eyes;
And hear the music of that voice
Whose lessons bade the sad rejoice,
Said to the weak “Be strong,” and to the dead “Arise!”
Vain, vain! it is enough to know
That in his pilgrimage below
He wrought Jehovah's will with steadfast zeal;
And that he passed from this our life
Without the sorrow of the strife
Which all our fathers felt, which we must one day feel.
But still a firm and faithful trust
Supports, consoles the pure and just:
Serene, though sad, they feel life's joys expire;
And bitter though the death pang be,
Their spirits through its tortures see
Elijah's car of light, Elijah's steeds of fire.1 [Note: Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed, ii. 304.]