03. Chapter 3
PARABLES OF THE OLD TESTAMENT.
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CHAPTER III. THE PARABLE AS FABLE.
I. The fable of Jotham.— II. The fable of Joash. THE Fable — the delight of children and childlike minds, and accordingly the ornament of the earlier stages of all literatures — conveys to us a simpler and less perfect form of teaching than the true Parable. It is simpler, because it arrests the attention by its very strangeness and occasional grotesqueness of treatment; because it forces the sense of a hidden meaning on the most careless mind, and (like the ancient Greek tragedy) puts on the actors masks, on which the features are so prominently marked, as to tell at once the story they are intended to tell. It is less perfect, because the analogy on which it depends is less complete and less solid. It rests, indeed, to some extent, on the same principle which underlies the true Parable — the belief in unity of law pervading all the various phases of God’s Providence. But, instead of being content with analogy in this respect between the lower and higher kingdom of Nature, it fancifully assumes identity; instead of tracing (for example) in animal instinct a rudimentary likeness to human reason and conscience, it attributes to the animals, or even to the trees, the actual ideas and moral impulses and responsibilities of men. The natural result is, that its scope is almost always limited to the lower spheres of human life, in which man rises comparatively little above the animal creation; and even in these so often provokes a smile by a sense of incongruity, that the sense of the ludicrous has been sometimes defined as of the essence of the fable.
Accordingly, it is fit only to convey the most obvious lessons, lying on the very surface of experience and thought; and its simplicity is the simplicity of crudeness rather than the simplicity of mature perfection. For its own purpose it is used in all ancient literature, but is especially a favourite vehicle of the wisdom of the East. The true Fable is but scantily used in Holy Scripture; in the mouth of the Prophet it is apt to melt into the more serious form of Allegory: we see without surprise that it has no place in the teaching of the Great Master, who delighted to speak in parable.
It would have failed, indeed, of the object which He Himself declared (Matthew 13:13-16) that He sought in parabolic teaching — to distinguish between those who would simply hear without thought and understanding, listening as to some pleasant tale without inquiry into its meaning, and those who, having ears, were ready both to hear and to understand. For, as has been said already, the fable forces from the most thoughtless the half-impatient question, “ Wilt thou not tell us what these things mean? “ But, even were this not so, we feel that this form of parable has nothing of that higher simplicity of depth and perfection, which is necessarily the characteristic of a doctrine which is to be final; nor does it accord with the deep, though serene, gravity of the teaching, which has to look into and through the most solemn realities of time and eternity. Of the Fable itself (properly so called) we have but two specimens in Holy Scripture.
I. Judges 9:7-16, Judges 9:19-20.—” And when they told it to Jotham, he went and stood in the top of mount Gerizim, and lifted up his voice, and cried, and said unto them. Hearken unto me, ye men of Shechem, that God may hearken unto you. The trees went forth on a time to anoint a king over them; and they said unto the olive tree, Reign thou over us. But the olive tree said unto them. Should I leave my fatness, wherewith by me they honour God and man, and go to wave to and fro over the trees 1 And the trees said to the fig tree. Come thou, and reign over us. But the fig tree said unto them. Should I leave my sweetness, and my good fruit, and go to wave to and fro over the trees? And the trees said unto the vine. Come thou, and reign over us. And the vine said unto them, Should I leave my wine, which cheereth God and man, and go to wave to and fro over the trees? Then said all the trees unto the bramble, Come thou, and reign over us. And the bramble said unto the trees. If in truth ye anoint me king over you, then come and put your trust in my shadow: and if not, let fire come out of the bramble, and devour the cedars of Lebanon. Now therefore, if ye have dealt truly and uprightly, in that ye have made Abimelech king, and if ye have dealt well with Jerubbaal and his house, and have done unto him according to the deserving of his hands;... then rejoice ye in Abimelech, and let him also rejoice in you: but if not, let fire come out from Abimelech, and devour the men of Shechem, and the house of Millo; and let fire come out from the men of Shechem, and from the house of Millo, and devour Abimelech.” The fable of Jotham belongs to one of the most striking epochs in the history of the Judges. Gideon’s career had just exemplified in its noblest form the true mission and character of the Judge, as a deliverer and ruler, raised up by the call, and anointed by the Spirit, of the Lord. But his establishment of his city as an unauthorised sanctuary, rivalling the glory of Shiloh in the land of the proud and hostile tribe of Ephraim, and perhaps the assumption of some royal state (marked by the polygamy noted in Judges 8:30), had already suggested to the Israelites the first beginnings of that aspiration after an established royalty, which finally led to the demand of the kingdom in the days of Samuel. Of this aspiration the ambition of Abimelech took base advantage through the help of his own kindred in Shechem. Shechem was, indeed, a chief city within the territory of Ephraim; and it is possible that he appealed to the Ephraimite jealousy of the house of Gideon. But it seems, also, not improbable that his mother belonged to the Canaanite race, still allowed to remain in Ephraim, and that his usurpation represents an uprising of that race, gathering strength from the apostasy of Israel to the native idolatry of Baal-berith (Judges 8:33), and making the idol temple their rallying-point. The usurpation is sealed by the murder of all the sons of Gideon except Jotham, who escapes and hides himself. Suddenly he appears again among the people. It was (says Josephus) at a festival, when the Israelites were gathered outside the city on the slope of Gerizim — perhaps it might be at the coronation festival — under the “ oak of the pillar (or garrison) in Shechem.”
He stands above the people on the rocky summit, looking down on the city some 800 feet below, speaks his word of rebuke and reproach, and then vanishes again. The fable itself of “ the trees going forth to anoint a king,” is one of those, which tell the chief gist of their story in their very first words, and attract the attention of the hearers by gradually working up to a foreseen conclusion. As in all forms of parable, it fails, indeed, in complete correspondence to all the features of the antitype. But the anointing of a king of their own choice, as distinct from a Judge called by the word of the Lord, was the thing then necessarily uppermost in the minds of the men of Israel. That they were the trees, and that Abimelech was the chosen king of the forest, must have struck them at once. As they listened, the successive rejection of the sovereignty by one tree after another — each symbolical of some special excellence — led up most naturally to the contrast with the acceptance of it by the worthless bramble, without a single break or effort of thought. The subjoined interpretation could hardly have been needed as an explanation to the understanding, however naturally it followed as an outpouring of heart to heart.
Simple, however, as the general idea is, the details are filled in with a delicate appropriateness. The good trees chosen are the vine and fig-tree, emphatically the emblems of fruitfulness and plenty, to sit under which is the privilege of peace (as in 1 Kings 4:25; 2 Kings 18:31); and the olive-tree, joined (though less frequently) with them as the glory of the land of Israel (see, for example, Habakkuk 3:17).
Each tree has its characteristic — the olive-tree its richness, the fig-tree its sweetness, and the vine its invigorating power. Association with the anointing of the king naturally suggests the placing of the olive first. Its fatness is that with which “ they honour God and man,”< — God in the mingling of oil with the meat-offering (see Leviticus 2:1, Leviticus 2:4-7,Leviticus 4:15); man in the use of oil for anointing, both in ordinary Hfe (see Deuteronomy 28:40; Rth 3:3; Micah 6:15; Matthew 6:17; Luke 7:46), and in consecration to the sacred offices of priest, prophet, and king. The fig-tree comes next in its “ sweetness and its good fruit,” used evidently not only for luxury, but for food. Lastly, the vine is spoken of as “ cheering God and man,” — a phrase properly, of course, applicable to man only, but extended (as in the case of the olive) because of the use of wine in the appointed drink-offerings (see Exodus 29:40; Leviticus 23:13; Numbers 15:7-10). That they represent Gideon and perhaps his legitimate sons is obvious; but it would probably be over-refinement to suppose that they involved any individual representation. The characteristic qualities of the trees simply bring out the three qualities of richness, sweetness, and energy, which belong to nobleness of human character. The “ bramble “ (the “ thorn “ of Psalms 58:9) is supposed to be the “ box-thorn “ (the Lycium Europaeum or Afrum), common in the East. It is chosen, of course, partly for its barren uselessness, partly for its power to tear and wound, as the type of the baseborn and cruel Abimelech; but its combustible nature (which makes the “ crackling of thorns “ a proverb for rapid and transient ebullition, as in Psalms 58:9, Psalms 118:12; Ecclesiastes 7:6) is also appropriate to the “ coming forth “ and spread of “ the fire,” which is the emblem of the destruction to come. The arrogance of the usurper is touched with a biting irony in the terms of the bramble’s acceptance: “ If in truth ye anoint me king over you, then come and put your trust in my shadow.” It will be observed that the origin of the fire, which is “ to come out “both from the bramble and the trees over which it rules, is undetermined in the fable. The description in the history — “ The Lord sent an evil spirit between Abimelech and the men of Shechem “ (comp. 1 Samuel 16:14-23) suggests the idea of an origination without hand of man (as by the friction of the dry branches under the wind of heaven), beginning as a little spark, rapidly increasing and spreading, till it seizes even “ the cedars of Lebanon “ themselves. The whole picture, therefore, while, as fable, it is necessarily fantastic in general conception, is singularly and beautifully true to the life in its details.
Thus, as has been already said, the meaning, in part anticipated almost from the beginning, grows line by line on the minds of the hearers, and prepares them to receive the stern, indignant application. That application, indeed, goes somewhat beyond the idea of the fable. In the fable, all that is conveyed in the words of the bramble is the enforcement of the truth, that, when allegiance is once pledged, even to an unworthy object, loyalty to it will be safety, disloyalty will be mutual destruction. But the application extends the words “in truth” (v. 15) to include the condition of righteousness and gratitude not to Abimelech, but to Jerubbaal and his house; on this larger condition it rests the question, whether Israel shall rejoice in Abimelech and he in Israel, or whether “ fire shall come out from Abimelech and devour the men of Shechem, and fire come out from the men of Shechem and devour Abimelech.” Still, this imperfection of correspondence would be easily passed over in the minds of the hearers. The future disloyalty of Abimelech’s accomplices in the unhallowed bond, just cemented by blood, would be felt as the natural offspring of the older disloyalty to the claims of the house of Jerubbaal on account of their father’s service; and the mutual destruction of the future be traced back to the original crime. As Jotham’s voice uttered the application, bold in its denunciation of ingratitude and cruelty, yet with a pathetic undertone of pleading running through it, the consciences of his hearers must have recognised its appropriateness, and foreboded the fulfilment which was so soon to come. Possibly it may have helped to fulfil its own prophecy. The words, which denounced cruelty and ingratitude, may have already begun to avenge them.
2 Kings 14:9-10. — “And Jehoash the king of Israel sent to Amaziah king of Judah, saying. The thistle that was in Lebanon sent to the cedar that was in Lebanon, saying. Give thy daughter to my son to wife: and there passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon, and trod down the thistle. Thou hast indeed smitten Edom, and thine heart hath lifted thee up: glory thereof, and abide at home; for why shouldst thou meddle to thy hurt, that thou shouldest fall, even thou, and Judah with thee? “ The second fable is spoken by Joash, the king of Israel, who, according to Elisha’s dying prophecy (2 Kings 13:14-19), was allowed to deliver Israel from bondage to the kingdom of Syria, and to inaugurate the rise of an era of external glory and prosperity, out of what had seemed to be the beginning of national destruction. The kingdom of Judah had passed into the same condition of vassalage to Syria at the close of the reign of its king Joash; it had now begun to revive under Amaziah, and had already incurred the anger of the kingdom of Israel by rejection, under prophetic command, of a large Israelitish force hired for the war against Edom. In the flush of victory, achieved without that aid, Amaziah wantonly, as it seems by the brief historic record, braves the superior force of Israel, “ Come, let us look one another in the face.” The fable, which is the contemptuous answer to this rash challenge, is simplicity itself The “ thistle “ (not a thorn-tree, but a thorny weed of some kind) is again contrasted with the cedar of Lebanon; but here not so much in respect of barren prickliness, as of its aspiring lowness and weakness, rearing its head stiffly, only to be trodden down. The most curious point \w this apologue is the apparent want of close appropriateness to the occasion, in respect of the demand, “ Give thy daughter to my son to wife,” which has little likeness to the challenge to battle, “ Come, let us look one another in the face.” There is probably here a reference to some unrecorded demand, the refusal of which gave occasion to that challenge. The intermarriage of the royal houses of Israel and Judah in the time of Ahab and Jehosaphat — fatal as its effect had been on the latter kingdom — may have been contemplated again from the same motives of political and commerical expediency. But it is, of course, possible that this want of perfection in application indicates that the apologue was one in proverbial use, merely adapted for the special occasion. A similar want of perfect appropriateness appears when we consider that this special adaptation might have seemed also to require that the destruction of the presumptuous thistle should come from the offended cedar itself. For the rest (even without the application of verse 10), the apologue is too plain to need explanation. Its threat was soon to be terribly fulfilled in the defeat of Amaziah at Beth-shemesh, the capture of Jerusalem, the dismantling of its fortifications, and the spoiling of its treasures.