008. I. The Prophet, And The People To Whom He Spoke

I THE PROPHET, AND THE PEOPLE TO WHOM HE SPOKE

It was an eventful moment in the history of mankind, as well as in that of the Hebrew race, when Amos, the Judean shepherd, stood up at Bethel, the great royal sanctuary of the northern kingdom, to preach, in the name of Jehovah, to the assembled Israelites. The date was about the middle of the eighth century B. C., the opening days of which had been characterized by a remarkable increase in the political and material prosperity of the two Hebrew kingdoms, and the closing years of which were destined to witness the deep humiliation of Judah and the complete annihilation of Israel. Assyria, the cause of these mighty changes, had not yet laid her iron hand upon the petty states of Palestine, although she had already given them repeated warnings. Their fate was delayed only until the reins of power should fall into the hands of strong and ambitious monarchs who would turn westward the invincible legions of the great empire. The more thoughtful of the Israelites could not shut their eyes to the fact that Assyria, who in crippling their old foe, the Arameans, had proved a savior to them (1 Kings 13:5), was a dangerous neighbor. The majority of the princes and people, however, trusting to their military equipment, and to the protection of Jehovah, which they confidently hoped to gain through the wealth of their offerings, had succeeded in completely blinding their eyes to the perils of the situation. The tribute and products of foreign art, which, as a result of the conquests and commercial policy of the reigning king, Jeroboam II, for the first time since the age of Solomon came to the Israelites in rich abundance, aroused new ambitions and tastes. The mutual regard for each other’s interests which had existed between rulers and people while they were struggling together against common want and adversity, had disappeared. In the new-born desire to gratify their love of display and luxury, the ruling classes were cruelly wronging those who were dependent upon them. The mass of the people still conceived of Jehovah very much as their neighbors the Moabites, or Edomites, conceived of their national gods. While they faithfully bore to his sanctuaries rich offerings, and abstained from the worship of rival deities, they felt confident that he would protect their interests as far as he was able. The readiness with which the Hebrews in succeeding generations from time to time paid homage to other gods is but one of the many indications that the conception of Jehovah as the one and the supreme God in the universe was not yet a tenet in their popular faith. The Hebrew race had only learned their alphabet in the great school of divine revelation. In accordance with the purpose of the Eternal, great political transformations were soon to take place. These were destined to open the minds of certain humble consecrated men to the appreciation of new and revolutionizing truths. Made prophets by virtue of the possession of this broader conception of Jehovah’s character and demands, they came before their contemporaries to proclaim a nobler ideal of life and service. In contrast with the imperfect old, it was an almost new religion. The mass of the people clung tenaciously to the ancient half-truths of the past, which, in the light of the fuller revelation, figured only as superstitions and fallacies. Assyria’s victorious advance shook their faith in Jehovah’s willingness and power to deliver his people. The prophets alone, whose souls were open to the influence of his divine spirit, realized that he was the supreme God of the universe, and that the calamity, which was soon to overtake their nation, came not because he was unable to avert it, but because the sins of his people rendered such a judgment necessary. Here is found the explanation of the popular indifference and contempt with which the messages of the pre-exilic prophets were greeted. Their break with the past was too abrupt, their ideal was too lofty, their teaching was too pure, to gain general acceptance. Not until bitter national experiences had prepared the way, did the people begin to heed the warnings and the counsels of their enlightened leaders. The task which confronted Amos, therefore, was not inviting. As he observed the injustice, the oppression, the self-indulgent luxury, the indifference and immorality, which characterized the northern kingdom, he found little encouragement that his word of denunciation would be heeded. The fact that he was a humble shepherd, who gained his living by following the lowliest pursuit which poverty-stricken Judah offered, was anything but a favorable introduction to the opulent northerners. His solemn face, his rude attire, and, above all, his accent, which indicated that he was a native of insignificant Judah, must have aroused at once a violent prejudice against him in the minds of that gay throng which streamed up to celebrate a great feast-day at the wealthy and popular shrine at Bethel. His message also was one of uncompromising denunciation; for while, on the barren uplands which extend from Tekoah, his home, eastward toward the Dead Sea, he had watched the patient sheep, and meditated long and deeply upon the evils and dangers of the present situation, Jehovah had revealed to him an ideal of justice which threw into startling relief the injustice rampant in Israel. Simple, straightforward, fearless man that he was, with no attempt at palliation he laid bare all its social and religious corruption, and declared that, as sure as Jehovah was a God of justice, he must and would destroy that corrupt northern kingdom. The effect upon the rulers, who were the especial object of his attack, can be imagined. The fact that his charge was true only increased their rage. The seventh chapter tells us that the moment he referred to the approaching overthrow of the reigning house, and thus gave an occasion for an accusation of treason, Amaziah, the chief priest at Bethel, reported to the king that Amos had conspired against him, and that for the peace of the kingdom this rebellious prophet must be suppressed. “The land is not able to hear his words,” was his suggestive confession. Apparently not waiting for an order from Jeroboam, Amaziah forthwith commanded Amos to flee back to Judah, and there gain a living by prophesying, if he could, but never again to open his mouth at the royal sanctuary of Bethel. “I am not a professional prophet, as your sneering words imply,” was Amos’s response, “nor do I belong to any of the prophetical guilds; but I am a plain man who earns his daily bread by honest toil. From my lowly tasks Jehovah called and commanded me to deliver a message to the northern kingdom. In silencing me you are defying Jehovah. Upon you, who represent the class I came to denounce, and upon your family, shall be visited all the miseries of conquest and captivity.” It is not improbable that that act of tyranny, which brought the mission of Amos to an abrupt end, led him to preach with the pen when his lips were silenced, and thus rendered his words immortal.

He certainly is the first of that remarkable group of prophets who speak to us through their writings almost as clearly to-day as they did to the surging, impatient, curious crowds of Hebrews who gathered about them twenty-six centuries ago. In imagination, taking our place in one of these audiences, we may listen to the stern message of Amos, and follow his thought, even though in translating it into nineteenth-century phraseology we lose much of the beauty and force of the rugged, poetical Hebrew in which he wrapped his ideas as he hurled them at his hearers.