corner graphic   Hi,    
ver. 2.0.19.11.17
Finding the new version too difficult to understand? Go to classic.studylight.org/

Bible Commentaries

Arthur Peake's Commentary on the Bible
Ezekiel

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20
Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28
Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32
Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36
Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40
Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44
Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48

Book Overview - Ezekiel

by Arthur Peake

EZEKIEL

BY PROFESSOR J. E. M‘FADYEN

INTRODUCTION

Difficulty of Ezekiel.—Ezekiel is a figure of incalculable importance in the history of Hebrew religion, and it is somewhat unfortunate that to most readers of the Bible he is so unfamiliar. Much of his writing seems to them tedious, unattractive, and remote. They miss the glow of living personality which suffuses the pages of an Amos or a Jeremiah. His mind, they tell us, is prosaic and mechanical; his imaginations are sometimes offensive, sometimes grotesque, nearly always complicated; his interest in religion is chiefly concentrated upon the technicalities of ritual, so that it is more than doubtful whether he is entitled to bear the honourable name of prophet at all or not.

His Vitality and Versatility.—Such an estimate, however, is anything but just. He is a man of rich and versatile mind, thoroughly alive to the problems and perplexities of the people he addresses, and well qualified, by discipline alike of head and heart, to bring to bear upon their situation words full of insight and consolation, of warning and of hope. With no sort of propriety can the lack of true poetic imagination be charged upon the writer who created the weird and wonderful valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37); who painted the downfall of Tyre as a gallant ship rowed out to meet her doom by storm upon the high seas (Ezekiel 27); or who sketched the grim judgment fulfilled upon Jerusalem by supernatural executioners—the silent Temple courts heaped with the bodies of the slain, and the lurid fires of judgment about to consume the guilty city (Ezekiel 9). Further, he is sensitive to every current of the life about him, he knows its every whisper. So far are his words from being abstract or theological discussions that they are frequently a direct reply to popular murmurs or challenges which he quotes. His great assertion of individual responsibility, for example (Ezekiel 18), is called forth by the sullen disappointment with which they repeat the proverb about the fathers and the sour grapes, and by their furious challenge of the ways of God as unfair (Ezekiel 18:25). The very vision of the forlorn valley is first suggested to him by the words of despair to which he had but too often listened (Ezekiel 37:11); and part, at least, of his message was spoken in answer to deputations of the elders (Ezekiel 8, 14, etc.).

Historical Background.—But let us look at the situation to which Ezekiel ministered. Sorrowful enough it was. He was in Babylon—an exile addressing exiles who with him had been carried away by Nebuchadrezzar in 597 B.C. (2 Kings 24). Born probably about 622 into a priestly family, he had spent the first twenty-five years of his life in Judah. Assyria, which had long been the dominant power in Asia, had begun to totter in the last quarter of the century, and, finally fell before Babylon in 607 B.C. The consequence of this for Judah, however, was only to exchange one vassalage for another, and Babylon remained the oppressor until fully thirty years after the death of Ezekiel. Soon after he was born, under the inspiration of the book of Dt. which had just been published (621 B.C.), a great reformation of popular worship and social life was inaugurated (pp. 45, 74f., 89f., 126-131, 231f.), and the piety thus exhibited was expected to guarantee the prosperity of the country. But the charges repeatedly hurled by Ezekiel both against the idolatrous worship (Ezekiel 6, 8 f.) and against the injustice and immorality of the people (Ezekiel 22) show only too plainly how futile and superficial that reformation had been. The religious decline was crowned by political disaster, and in 608 king Josiah fell on the field of Megiddo fighting against Egypt. On the fall of Assyria, Egypt enjoyed a temporary ascendancy in western Asia, and to that country Jehoahaz, Josiah's son and successor, after a brief reign of three months, was carried off prisoner; but her power was finally crushed by Babylon at the decisive battle of Carchemish (605). Jehoiakim, another son of Josiah, who had ascended the throne in 608 as vassal of Egypt, was naturally now a vassal of Babylon; but after a few years he revolted, thus drawing upon himself the vengeance of Nebuchadrezzar, who successfully besieged Jerusalem in 597 and carried into exile many of her leading citizens, including Ezekiel and Jehoiachin, a king of three months' standing—his father Jehoiakim having meanwhile died. Jehoiachin was succeeded by his uncle Zedekiah (a son of Josiah), who for a time remained faithful to Babylon, though sorely tempted to rebellion by the insurrectionary kings of the neighbouring nations. But at last, depending upon the support of Egypt, which did actually attempt to make a diversion in Zedekiah's favour (Ezekiel 17:17, Jeremiah 37:5), he definitely renounced his allegiance to Babylon—an act which Ezekiel bitterly resented and denounced as treachery to Yahweh Himself (Ezekiel 17:19)—with the result that Jerusalem was invested by Nebuchadrezzar, and after a siege of eighteen months destroyed amid horrors untold. The Temple, on which such a passion of love had been lavished (Ezekiel 24:21), was reduced to ashes and the people deported to Babylon (588-586, 2 Kings 25). (See further on this paragraph pp. 72f., 75, 474f.)

The Book.—That is the situation which confronts Ezekiel. Five years before the doom fell he had foreseen it, and with some detail predicted it. His fellow exiles constitute his immediate audience, but his eye is ever also on that remoter audience in the homeland. The burden of his earlier message, which runs throughout the first half of his book (Ezekiel 1-24), is one of judgment: to the incredulous people he announces and justifies the coming doom. When at length it has fallen, and the character of the "holy" God, whose holiness was so wantonly defied, has been vindicated, he speaks to their despair his word of hope (Ezekiel 33-39), and shows his practical genius by sketching a programme for the reconstruction of the national life (Ezekiel 40-48) after all the obstacles to it have been swept away (Ezekiel 25-32).

The People Incredulous.—We may wonder that the first terrific blow struck by Babylon in 597 should have left the Jews unconvinced of the probability of their impending political extinction—a probability which to Ezekiel was a certainty as clear as noonday. But the people had reasons for their incredulity. Their destruction meant, to an ancient mind, the destruction of their God's own power and prestige as well; and Yahweh could not and would not allow Himself to stand discredited before the world. Jerusalem as His own city, the Temple as His peculiar home, the monarchy as established by Himself, were believed to be inviolable: it was their very faith in these things, and in the God who was supposed to guarantee them, that rendered the message of Ezekiel as incredible as it was intolerable. Besides, they had pinned their faith to more visible and tangible support in the shape of Egyptian battalions, though they might have learned from the history of the past that Egypt was but a broken reed to lean upon (Ezekiel 29:7, Isaiah 30:1 ff; Isaiah 31:1; Isaiah 36:6), and that her promises had never been adequately implemented by her performances. Again, though year after year Ezekiel had thundered his message of doom, nothing had happened. Jerusalem still stood; and they argued, either that nothing would happen, or that if it did, it was so far away as to be negligible (Ezekiel 12:21-28). Again, Ezekiel was not the only prophet. There were others who preached a more welcome and probable message; and, between the two, a people with no very sensitive conscience to moral issues might well be really confused, and only too ready to give themselves the benefit of the doubt.

The Prophet's Indictment.—But to Ezekiel there could be no doubt. Whether he scans the present or the past, it is so abominable that it calls aloud for the avenging stroke of high heaven. The fierce indictment-—and there has never been a fiercer—is drawn up in several elaborate historical reviews (Ezekiel 16, 20, 23). From the very beginning to the end of her career Israel's record has been one of black and shameless apostasy; she has always been "a rebellious house." In Egypt, in Canaan during the conquest, and then throughout the monarchy, she had been perpetually coquetting with the worship of foreign gods, indulging in their lascivious and brutal rites; while at the very time he was speaking, the sacred Temple itself was being contaminated by sun-worship, Tammuz worship, animal worship, and other well-nigh incredible abuses which showed how thoroughly Yahweh had been dethroned from His supremacy. Nor was this all. The foul religion was fittingly matched by a foul morality. The old social injustices, denounced by a long succession of prophets, were still rampant; immorality and bloody crimes were the order of the day (Ezekiel 22): in Ezekiel's terse phrase, "the land was filled with violence" (Ezekiel 8:17; Ezekiel 7:23). Such things could not be permitted to go on for ever by the God in whom Ezekiel believed; and so, for the sa:ke of His "name"—that name so grievously tarnished by the misconduct of His people—He must act; and the form which His action must take in the siege and destruction of Jerusalem is described in one vivid passage after another (Ezekiel 4, 5, 12, etc.)—the most terrible of all being that in which the supernatural executioners mercilessly slay the worshippers in the very courts of the Temple, and the city is sternly devoted to the flames (Ezekiel 9 f.).

Reason for the Restoration.—It fell out exactly as Ezekiel had said, and then his credit as a prophet was established. Now they "know that there has been a prophet among them" (Ezekiel 2:5), and the mouth which has been stopped by their incredulity is opened (Ezekiel 33:22) to declare a message of hope and restoration and to vindicate once more—this time before the heathen—the honour of Israel's God. For the heathen, looking upon the awful fate of Israel, could only conclude that Yahweh was an impotent God (Ezekiel 36:20). But they, too, must be taught His power, as Israel had been taught His character, and nothing will teach them so conclusively as the restoration of Israel. History is the process by which, now in this way and now in that, the world is brought to a knowledge of the nature and character of the great Power behind it.

Nature of the Restoration.—The picture drawn by Ezekiel of the "salvation" in store for his people is as gracious and brilliant as his forecast of their doom had been stern. First, they must be brought back to the homeland. In the exile they are hopeless and dead—a valley of wizened bones—so dead to the claims of Yahweh upon them and to a belief in His power that some had even solemnly proposed to abandon Him for other gods (Ezekiel 20:32). He must bring them home to the land that was both His and theirs, to live their new and glorious life upon it, that land of ancient promise, whose capital, Jerusalem, was the dear mother of them all. The old idolatries would be left behind for ever; and in their reconstructed Temple, on whose minutest architectural details Ezekiel expends a wealth of careful affection (Ezekiel 40), they would worship Him in sincerity and truth according to a pattern which would command the Divine approval. The cities devastated by war would be rebuilt, the population would be greatly increased, and everywhere across the land fertility would reign (Ezekiel 36). The old strife between the north and the south would be no more. Judah and Israel would live in harmony as one united people under a prince of the Davidic line, untroubled any more by discord within or without (Ezekiel 37:15). The social conditions would be as healthy as the land would be fair. Gone for ever would be the heartless governors, the ruthless shepherds who had fleeced the flock it was their business to care for (Ezekiel 34). Cruelty, injustice, wrong of every kind would disappear. The land and the city would be such that it could be said with truth "Yahweh is there" (Ezekiel 48:35).

Medium of the Restoration.—Precisely how this transformation is to be initiated, we are not told. Enough for Ezekiel that behind it was Yahweh. This need not, however, exclude the use of historical instruments. For just as the destruction of Jerusalem is regarded as Yahweh's work, though the immediate agent of it is Nebuchadrezzar—the sword he wields is Yahweh's sword (Ezekiel 21:5)—so it may well be with the restoration. But Ezekiel does not, like his great successor (Isaiah 45:1), name the agent, because his figure is not yet on the historical horizon. Enough that he sees and proclaims with so sublime a confidence the large lines of the Divine purpose.

Ezekiel's Conception of God and Religion.—It is easy to do less than justice to Ezekiel—to maintain that his God is a selfish and super-sensitive Being, concerned for nothing but the vindication of His own honour and the spread of His fame, doing what He does, not for the love of His people, but solely for His own name's sake (Ezekiel 36:22). It is easy to maintain that Ezekiel's own conception of religion is ritual and superficial, that, though he wears the prophet's mantle, he is a priest at heart, who cares more for organised institutions and punctilious ceremony than for the love of God and the service of his fellows. But it must be remembered that, if his God is austere almost to the point of inaccessibility, He is none the less truly a God of love. This conception of Him underlies the realistic imagery of ch. 16, in which Israel is likened to a poor foundling girl, saved and nurtured and finally lifted to an honourable wifehood by Yahweh. Stern though He be, He does not desire the death of a sinner, but rather that the sinner should turn and live (Ezekiel 33:11). Again, though Ezekiel may speak of religion as if it were a thing of obedience to external "statutes and judgment," it ought not to be forgotten that, even in those very contexts, he insists also on the need of a new heart and a new spirit (Ezekiel 36:26). Assuredly his religion has more inwardness than many of his words would seem to imply. Instead of regarding him as a priest disguised as a prophet he might with almost equal justice be regarded as a prophet disguised as a priest. Though at times he seems to put the ritual and the moral demands of religion upon the same level (Ezekiel 22:6-8), he is yet a worthy successor of the ancient prophets in his broad insistence upon the supreme importance of character, and he carries their appeal further than they did by addressing it distinctly and definitely to the individual. With them the nation was the religious unit, with him it is the individual. Upon the individual lies an inalienable responsibility for his attitude to the prophetic message, and in general for the spiritual quality of his life, and Ezekiel is not afraid to begin by applying this doctrine of responsibility to himself. He knows himself to have the "cure of souls"; he is the first Hebrew pastor.

Individualism.—This doctrine of individualism is stated by Ezekiel with a bluntness which has frequently drawn on him the charge of "atomism," in seeming to imply that the individual was in no way conditioned by his ancestry or even by his own past. His extreme form of the doctrine is explained partly by the fact that it is a pioneer statement, with all the exaggeration natural to a protest against the traditional view which had submerged the individual in the community. But this emphatic assertion of the freedom of the individual was valuable in two ways: if it made vigilance obligatory, it made hope possible, and it threw a useful emphasis, not on what man had been but on what he was and willed to become. Another aspect—equally open to challenge—of this doctrine was its assertion of the exact correspondence between an individual's fortunes and his moral deserts: "the soul that sinneth—it and no other soul shall die" (Ezekiel 18:4). But Ezekiel, though a theorist, always keeps an open eye for fact; he recognises that, among those who perished in the general destruction, some were good; among those who survived, some were bad; and it is more than usually interesting to watch how Ezekiel meets the strain of these new facts upon his theory (Ezekiel 12:16, Ezekiel 14:21-23).

The Community.—Ezekiel finely complements his emphasis upon the individual by an equal emphasis upon the importance of the community. His ideal in religion is anything but a mystic isolation, it is a community of saved and worshipping souls, drawn to each other because drawn to their common Lord. This is the real significance of the last nine chapters, with their elaborate description of city and Temple. Institutions and organisations are not everything, but they are something: nay, they are indispensable, if men are to live and worship in concert. This is a truth clearly and firmly grasped by Ezekiel.

Devotion of Ezekiel.—No prophet ever took himself or his call more seriously. From the beginning to the end (592-570) he devoted to his ministry all his powers of mind, heart, and imagination. He pleaded with individual souls; he preached to the people—and there is proof that he was a most attractive speaker, however little his audience laid his message to heart (Ezekiel 33:32); and he planned for the national reconstruction in that future in which, even when the outlook was blackest, he never ceased to believe. Even when constrained to silence—whether, as some suppose, in virtue of some physical or psychical disability (e.g. catalepsy), or merely by the incredulity of his hearers—he was still the prophet, preaching by acts, which were charged with an easily decipherable symbolism (Ezekiel 4, 5, 12), no less than by his words. He seems to have had the gift of second sight (Ezekiel 24:2), he was certainly subject to ecstatic experiences, and he had visions; but all his faculties and all his experiences became contributory to his ministry. Even the silent sorrow which fell across him in the death of the wife he loved so dearly, is invested with symbolic and prophetic meaning (Ezekiel 24:15). Whether he speaks or is silent, whatever he does or suffers, he is the prophet still.

Influence of Ezekiel.—No influence was more potent than his in the shaping of that Judaism which has lived on unshaken through the centuries. It is seen in his transcendental conception of God, in whose presence Ezekiel feels himself to be but a poor frail "son of man." It is seen in his dogma of individual retribution. It is seen in his apocalyptic vision of the great assault to be made one day upon the holy land by heathen hordes, who will in the end be defeated ignominiously and for ever (Ezekiel 38 f.). It is seen above all in his passionate love of a minutely-organised worship, which perhaps no single thinker did so much to shape and guide as he. When we consider the hopes he encouraged, the movements he initiated, the visions he held before the eyes of his contemporaries, the influence he has exerted on posterity, we cannot deny him a place in the front rank of the great men of Israel (pp. 91, 129, 131).

Literature.—Commentaries: (a) Davidson and Streane (CB), Lofthouse (Cent.B.), Toy (SBOT Eng.), Skinner (Ex.B.), (c) Hitzig, Smend (KEH), Kraetzsehmar (HK), Bertholet (KHC). Other literature: Davidson, Theology of the OT, p. 338ff.; Westphal, The Law and the Prophets, pp. 342-357; A. C. Knudson, Beacon Lights of Prophecy, ch. vi.; Peake, Problem of Suffering in the OT, ch. ii.

THE PROPHETIC LITERATURE

BY THE EDITOR

THIS article is restricted to the literary criticism of the prophetic books. On the nature of prophecy see pp. 426-430, on its literary character see pp. 24f., on its history and the teaching of the prophets see pp. 69-78, 85-93, and the commentaries on the individual prophets.

The earliest of our canonical prophets is Amos. We do not know whether any of the earlier prophets wrote down their oracles. If so, with the doubtful exception of Isaiah 15 f. probably none of these survive, Joel, which used to be regarded as the oldest, being now regarded as one of the latest. From the finished style of his book and its mastery of form and vocabulary we may assume that a long development lay behind Amos, but this may have been oral. Certainly we have no hint that his great predecessors, Elijah and Elisha, committed any of their prophecies to writing. We do not know why the canonical prophets supplemented oral by written utterances. Amos was silenced by the priest at Bethel, who accused him of treason and bade him begone back to Judah. He may have resorted to writing because speech was forbidden him. His example might then be followed without his reasons. Isaiah seems to have committed some of his prophecies to writing owing to the failure of his preaching and the incredulity of the people. The written word entrusted to his disciples will be vindicated by history, and the genuineness of his inspiration can then be attested by appeal to the documents.

Hebrew prophecy is poetical in form. The parallelism (p. 23) which is the most characteristic feature of Heb. poetry is a frequent though not invariable feature in it, and rhythm can often be traced in it even if we hesitate to speak of metre. In the later period prophecy became less the written precipitate of the spoken word and more of a literary composition. It was designed for the reader rather than for the hearer. Behind not a little of it there was probably no spoken word at all.

Daniel being apocalypse rather than prophecy, the canonical prophets would seem to be fifteen—three major and twelve minor. Really the writers were much more numerous. Several of the books are composite. They contain the work of two or more writers. Prophecies originally anonymous were attached to the oracles of well-known writers, all the more easily if they immediately followed the work of another writer without any indication that a new work was beginning. Community of subject may be responsible for enlarging the works of a prophet by kindred oracles from unknown authors. The Book of Isaiah is the most conspicuous example. The popular expression, "two Isaiahs," is a caricature of the critical view. It implies that Isaiah 1-39 was the work of one prophet, Isaiah 40-66 of another. Even when the last twenty-seven chapters were regarded as a unity there was little justification for the phrase. True, we have the work of two great prophets—Isaiah, and the great unknown prophet of the Exile, called for convenience the Second Isaiah—but it was clear that in Isaiah 1-39 there were certain sections which were non-Isaianic, and that these could not all be assigned to the Second Isaiah. These obviously non-Isaianic sections were Isaiah 13:1 to Isaiah 14:23, Isaiah 21:1-10, Isaiah 24-27. Isaiah 34 f. To these would now be added, by fairly common consent, Isaiah 11:10-16, Isaiah 12, 33 the historical chapters 36-39 being generally regarded as also a good deal later than Isaiah's time. But considerable additions would now be made by several scholars to this list. Similarly with the Book of Jeremiah. This contains extensive biographical sections, probably from Baruch the secretary, in addition to the prophet's authentic oracles; but the latter have been extensively glossed by later supplementers, and some entirely non-Jeremianic sections have been inserted in it. In this case the text for long remained in a fluid state, as is clear from the notable variations between the MT and the LXX. It is probable that the Book of Habakkuk includes an older oracle from the close of the seventh century, together with a prophecy from the middle of the Exile and a post-exilic Psalm. Zechariah 9-14 is from another author or authors and another period than Zechariah 1-8. It is held by some scholars that Joel is the work of two writers, and probably not all of the Book of Micah belongs to Isaiah's contemporary.

We touch a related point when we ask how far pre-exilic prophecies have been systematically revised to meet the needs and satisfy the aspirations of the post-exilic community. The crucial difference between prophecy before and prophecy after the destruction of Jerusalem is that the former was in the main, though by no means exclusively, prophecy of judgment, the latter in the main prophecy of comfort and restoration. We must not press this to an extreme, but it has an important bearing upon criticism. The sceptical inference has been drawn that well-nigh all prophecies of the happy future belong to the post-exilic period. It must, of course, be recognised that prophecies of the return from exile were never out of date, because such return as took place was very partial, and the conditions of the community in Judah were very wretched. It was only natural that earlier writings of judgment should have their severity ameliorated to cheer a people sorely tried and desperately in need of encouragement. Glowing descriptions of the latter-day glory might naturally be appended at the close of individual prophecies or of whole books. It is a grave fault in method to reject on principle the pre-exilic origin of such passages. That is not criticism but prejudice. Material grounds must be present, such as stylistic differences, discontinuity with the context, inconsistency with the standpoint of the writer, or some similar cause. If, for example, the closing verses of Amos are regarded as a post-exilic insertion, this is justified by their incompatibility with the tenor of the prophet's teaching. The case is entirely different with the last chapter of Hosea, whose fundamental doctrine of Yahweh's love makes such a message of comfort entirely fitting as a close of his book. And similarly other cases must be settled on their merits, not by preconceptions as to what a pre-exilic prophet can or cannot have said. Another feature of more recent criticism has been the tendency to relegate large sections of the prophetic literature not simply to the post-exilic period in general, but to a very late date in that period. Duhm's Commentary on Isaiah, published in 1892, led the way. The generally-accepted opinion had been that the Canon of the Prophets was closed about 200 B.C. Duhm, however, assigned not a little to the Maccabean period. Marti developed this position in a still more thorough-going fashion, and more recently Kennett, who also holds most of Isaiah 40-66 to be Maccabean. The history of the Canon is not so clear that a Maccabean date should be regarded as impossible, however cogent the internal evidence. The present writer is not convinced, however, that a case has been made out for the origin of any part of Isaiah in the Maccabean period. Nor yet does he believe that there is any need to descend so late for any section of Jeremiah. If any part of the Prophetic Canon is of Maccabean origin, Zechariah 9-14 might most plausibly be assigned to that period. At present, however, there is a reaction represented especially by Gunkel, Gressmann, and Sellin not only against excessively late dating, but against the denial to their reputed authors of so large a proportion of the writings which pass under their names.

Literature (for this and the following article).—In addition to commentaries, articles in Dictionaries (esp. Prophecy and Prophets in HDB), works on OTI and OTT and the History of Israel, the following: W. R. Smith, The Prophets of Israel; A. B. Davidson, OT Prophecy; Kuenen, The Prophets and Prophecy in Israel; Duhm, Die Theologie der Propheten; Kirkpatrick, Doctrine of the Prophets; Batten. The Hebrew Prophet; Cornill, The Prophets of Israel; Giesebrecht, Die Berufsbegabung der alttest, Propheten; Hölscher, Die Profeten; Sellin, Der alttest. Prophetismus; Findlay, The Books of the Prophets; Buttenwieser, The Prophets of Israel; Knudson, The Beacon Lights of Prophecy; Joyce, The Inspiration of Prophecy; Edghill, An Enquiry into the Evidential Value of Prophecy; Jordan, Prophetic Ideas and Ideals; Gordon, The Prophets of the OT.

OLD TESTAMENT PROPHECY

BY DR. G. C. JOYCE

IN Biblical study, as in all living sciences, there must be continuous progress. New problems arise, the investigation of which requires the use of new instruments of research. Amongst recent modes of study the "comparative method" has of late acquired a considerable measure of popularity. It claims to mark an advance upon the preceding "historical method." To the latter belongs the merit of basing its conclusions upon definite data, for which historical evidence could be produced. But on behalf of the former it is urged that the general laws determining the development of religion come into view only when a broad survey is taken over a wide field embracing many nations at many different levels of civilisation. To make this survey is the task allotted to "Comparative Religion."

The problem of OT prophecy invites study along both these lines of approach. It is intimately connected with questions of great historical interest. There are documents to be investigated, arranged in chronological order, and interpreted in accordance with the spirit of the time when they were written. At the same time, the most diligent and ingenious historical study will of necessity leave many questions unsolved and even untouched. A comparison must needs be instituted between prophecy as we know it in Israel and parallel phenomena (if any such exist) presented by other religions. In this way it may prove possible to unravel more of that mysterious secret of prophecy which has rendered it so great a force in furthering the religious progress of the world. The two methods, the historical and the comparative, will need to be kept in close alliance. A mutual dependence binds them together, the one advancing securely only when supported by the other.

The material for the study of prophecy, lying ready to hand in the OT, is of high value. It is contemporary; it is various; it is, in a sense, abundant. Whatever doubts may be raised about particular passages, there can be no reasonable question that the bulk of the prophetic writings preserved in the Jewish Canon are genuine products of the prophetic age, and were composed between the eighth and the fifth centuries B.C. The words bear the stamp of originality. They throb with the live emotions of hope and fear, of elation and despondency, excited by the sudden changes and chances to which, during that eventful period, the national life was exposed. In them we find no carefully consistent political or historical theory, elaborated from reflection upon the records of the past, but a vivid and continually changing response of the heart of the prophet to events transacted before his eyes or reported in his hearing. The reader of these writings is brought into immediate touch with definite personalities exhibiting marked and distinctive traits of character. In being all alike vehicles of a Divine revelation to God's people, the prophets form a class by themselves. But there was no common mould or pattern obliterating their idiosyncrasies. Amos and Hosea, Isaiah and Micah, speak out each his own message in terms peculiar to himself. Individual character manifests itself unmistakably, not-withstanding the similar tenor of the warnings uttered and the hopes encouraged. Undoubtedly the prophetic books of the OT, as they exist to-day, represent no more than a small surviving remnant of a far larger literature. Much has gone beyond recall. And yet how remarkable a providence it is that has preserved for the use of the world the writings of a distant past, composed in a corner of Western Asia by the subjects of a petty kingdom overshadowed by far more powerful and far more highly civilised neighbours! That in the course of centuries these writings should suffer a certain measure of dislocation and corruption was inevitable. There are not a few passages where the critic must needs exercise his ingenuity in attempting to solve the riddle of a text obviously damaged in transcription. But when all necessary deductions have been made, it remains true that the features of OT prophecy stand out with surprising clearness and definiteness. They arrest attention and challenge explanation.

The beginning of the age of the literary prophets falls in the eighth century B.C. Yet the institution of the prophetic order (if it may be so called) dates from an earlier period. It was a twin birth with the monarchy. And even further back, in the dim period of the wanderings through the desert, and in the troubled times of the judges, the national history was controlled by great personalities to whom the name prophet is not inappropriate. This, at least, was the view favoured by the later prophets themselves (Jeremiah 7:25). But it is in the striking figure of Samuel that we find the immediate ancestor of the true prophetic line. Of his influence in launching the new monarchy tradition speaks with unmistakable clearness. Though the matter is differently presented in the older and later documents combined in 1 S., both narratives bear testimony to his responsibility for a political development big with possibilities for the future. His successor, Nathan, was a worthy follower in his footsteps, not flinching from the duty of administering rebuke, and ready to brave the consequences of the royal displeasure. Henceforward and repeatedly prophecy intervened to determine the channel in which the national history should run. A prophet instigated the disruption of the two kingdoms. Elijah, the most impressive figure in all the OT, thundered against the policy of assimilating the religion of Israel to that of Phœnicia. The revolution which placed the dynasty of Jehu on the throne owed its original impulse to Elisha's suggestion. The prophet gained his end. The house of Ahab was deposed. The popular inclination towards the worship of Baal was checked. But the close alliance thus initiated between Elisha's disciples and the royal house seems to have exerted an injurious influence on the prophetic order. It is significant that not long afterwards Amos, the first of the prophets whose writings are extant, is careful to dissociate himself from the professional caste (Amos 7:14). While they prophesied smooth things, he predicted the appalling national disaster, which, in fact, was not long delayed.

In the southern kingdom prophecy achieved its moment of triumphant popularity when Isaiah's policy of resistance to the Assyrian was brilliantly vindicated by the city's escape at the last moment from apparently inevitable destruction. But it was a short-lived triumph. The violent reaction under Manasseh showed how little real hold the principles of the prophetic religion had gained on the mind of the people at large. A little later the earnest effort of the Deuteronomic Reformation, supported enthusiastically by king and prophet, had not sufficient vitality to survive the disaster at Megiddo. Jeremiah knew the anguish of speaking to deaf ears, and of vainly endeavouring to restrain a headstrong people from treading the way to ruin. Thus the successive crises of history serve to exhibit the figure of the prophet in a conspicuous light. But instructively as these dramatic moments reveal the principles of prophetic action, yet it is equally important to remember how, during long, uneventful years, the prophets were quietly and inconspicuously at work contributing their share to the shaping of the national religion. It was a religion with several aspects. Some students of the OT go so far as to say that there were practically three religions existing side by side. In the first place, there was the religion of the peasantry, a faith simple and nave, but grievously unstable, and all too easily inclined towards nature-worship, with the attendant evils of a debased idolatry and moral degradation. In the second place, the organised religion of the priests gave strength and solidity to tradition, and in a measure not otherwise attainable secured the transmission of truth from generation to generation. Religious knowledge, once gained, was enshrined in appropriate formulae, and gradually became common property. Thirdly, the religion of the prophets possessed a quality of its own. It protested not only against the impure corruptions of the peasant religion, but also against the stiffness and formalism of the priests. The prophet was, in the true sense of the word, an innovator. He was the man of spiritual vision to whom came revelations of new truth, and of the obligation to apply old principles in novel ways. In the writings of the prophets, chronologically arranged, it is possible to trace a progress of thought, a deepening conviction of the Divine holiness and majesty, a more comprehensive outlook over the world and its problems. To imagine, as some writers have done, a radical and essential opposition between the priest as an obscurantist and the prophet as light-bringer is to misread history. Priest and prophet were alike necessary factors, discharging complementary functions, the one preserving, the other initiating. That the initiator should have repeatedly incurred opposition and even persecution at the hands of the preserver is sufficiently intelligible. New truth is usually frowned upon. The prophet must needs pay for the privilege of being before his time. In all the history of religion there are few more interesting chapters than that which traces the growth of man's knowledge of God, together with the gradual elevation of the moral ideal, as the heavenly flame was passed from hand to hand in the order of the prophets.

Careful historical study of the OT was in itself sufficient to show that the old definition of prophecy as history written before the event was misleading and inaccurate. The prophet was, in the first instance, a messenger to his own generation, a preacher of righteousness, a missionary of repentance, an advocate of reform. All this is admittedly true; and yet there is need of caution lest a reaction against the crude conception of prophecy as prediction should obscure the truth that the prophet did, as a matter of fact, add force to his exhortations by pointing to the future. He was neither a mere foreteller of isolated events nor a mere moral preacher; he was inspired with a vision of the coming Kingdom of God. The form assumed by that vision in the heart of the prophet was necessarily determined by the idiosyncrasy of his own genius, by the circumstances of the time at which he wrote, and by the spiritual intelligence of his hearers. When the Davidic monarchy was newly established and the twelve tribes were for a time united and prosperous, the hope of a Divinely ordered kingdom seemed close at hand. It was conceived as an earthly kingdom, and closely associated with the house of the founder of the dynasty (2 Samuel 7:8 ff.). But these bright expectations were disappointed. The disruption of the two kingdoms, the increasing social disorder within, and the obvious imminence of invasion from without, were circumstances that could not be ignored by the prophets. Under the enlightenment of the Spirit of God they were aware of the sinfulness of their nation, and recognised the inevitable necessity of a discipline of punishment. Nothing could be more significant than the contrast between the unqualified brightness of the outlook of Nathan and the heavy gloom of the predictions of Amos. This pioneer of prophecy in its new and severer form strove his hardest to open the eyes of his people to the nature of the coming catastrophe. "Wherefore would ye have the day of the Lord? It is darkness and not light" (Amos 5:18). How could a deliverance be expected by those who had been unfaithful to their God? Hosea, the prophetic successor of Amos, though speaking of judgment and condemnation, yet dwelt on the invincible strength of the love of God for His people. Isaiah saw in the miraculous preservation of the city a confirmation of his faith that God would not bring the sinful nation utterly to an end. A remnant should be left, and be the recipients of the Divine bounty in the future. National distresses interpreted by the Divinely inspired insight of the prophets led on continuously to new conceptions of the Kingdom of God. To Jeremiah came the revelation, at once desolating and reassuring, that even the destruction of the beloved city and its Temple could not permanently thwart the accomplishment of the Divine plan. A new covenant should replace the old, and a new kingdom arise, of which the inspiring principle should be the knowledge of God. Still wider and more glorious became the outlook of the unknown prophet of the Exile (Isaiah 40 ff.). The God of Israel shall be recognised as God of all the earth, and everywhere shall His name be honoured. This is the prophet's hope; this is his vision of the future.

The interpretation of prophecy has thus passed through various stages. It was for long regarded by Christian apologists as a convenient collection of proofs. It was next explained by students of Biblical history as essentially a protest of moral indignation against national vices. It has now come to be recognised as intelligible only when referred to a vision of coming disaster and coming deliverance. But as to the source of that vision there is much difference of opinion. It is at the present moment one of the most keenly debated questions connected with the OT Until recently it was assumed that the outlook of the prophets, their prevision of gloom and glory, and of a predestined ruler, was peculiar to Israel. Their unquestioning belief in the personal power of God, their conviction of His choice of Israel for His people, their profound sense of the national unrighteousness, were supposed to provide an adequate explanation of their reading of the future. What else (so it seemed) could a prophet expect but that God would judge His people, punishing the wicked, and after purification granting to the remnant peace and prosperity under a ruler appointed by Himself? That there is truth in this psychological account of the matter is evident. But is it the whole truth? The suggestion has been made that there were other factors at work, and that these ideas about the future may have been less exclusively the monopoly of the prophets of Israel than has been hitherto supposed. It is a suggestion to be considered in the light of the contribution which Comparative Religion can make to the study of prophecy.

Biblical archaeology is a comparatively recent science, yet it has already amassed a surprising amount of information as to the character of the civilisation of the ancient East. No scholar in the early nineteenth century would have deemed it credible that detailed knowledge of life in Babylonia and Egypt contemporary with and even anterior to the days of the OT should ever be placed at the disposal of the student. Yet this has actually come about. The spade of the archaeologist, together with the ingenious decipherment of ancient scripts, has succeeded in unlocking many of the secrets of the past. The OT is no longer an isolated document, a sole authority, a unique record. Not only are there contemporary inscriptions from Nineveh, Babylon, and Egypt by which its historical statements can be checked, but—what is of even greater importance—its pictures of life and manners and modes of thought in Israel can be set side by side with our knowledge of similar matters throughout the ancient East.

No sooner was the comparison instituted than the close resemblance between the religion of ancient Israel and the general type of contemporary religion in the East became vividly apparent. In all external matters the points of likeness are numerous and important. Sacred places, sacred wells, sacred trees, sacred stones are a common feature of Eastern religions, the religion of Israel included. It was certainly so in patriarchal times. Nor did the Mosaic revelation obliterate these resemblances. Externally and to a superficial observer it may well have seemed that, even in the times of the monarchy, the religion of Israel was distinguishable only in certain minor points from the religions of the neighbouring tribes. The OT books themselves bear witness to the readiness with which foreign rites were introduced and welcomed. No doubt the outward similarities rendered the process easy of accomplishment.

Granted that the same kinds of holy objects were venerated by Israel and by the neighbouring nations, an important question remains to be asked. Were there in the adjoining countries "holy men" similar to the "holy men" of Israel, the "men of God"? Till lately it was generally assumed that the prophets of Israel stood apart, and that none like them were to be found elsewhere. Recently, however, an opposite opinion has been put forward, and a certain amount of evidence produced in its support. It is certain that other Semitic tribes had seers whom they believed to be God's messengers. Thus the following sentence appears in an inscription of a king of Hamath, dating from c. 800 B.C., the very age when the prophets of Israel were beginning to write: The Lord of Heaven sent to me an oracle through the seers. And the Lord of Heaven said to me, Fear not, for I have made thee king." In Israel the seer had been the spiritual progenitor of the prophet. The truth is brought out with great clearness in one section of the composite narrative of 1 S. To Samuel the seer men go for help in practical matters, such as the discovery of lost property, and are prepared to pay a fee for his services (1 Samuel 9:6 ff.). It is exactly the kind of figure which presents itself over and over again in ethnic religions. It is the man whose abnormal or supernormal psychic powers, notably the power of clairvoyance, give him an immense ascendancy over his fellows. In Israel the seer was transformed into the prophet. Samuel the clairvoyant becomes Samuel the upholder of the religion of Yahweh, the champion of national righteousness, the vehicle for the revelation of the Divine will. Can it be shown that any similar transformation took place outside Israel?

More than fifty years ago a monograph was written comparing the Greek seer with the Hebrew prophet. And certainly the Greek seer is in nearly every respect identical with the seer of the ancient East. But that nothing in the least resembling Hebrew prophecy arose from Greek divination and Greek oracles is historically certain. Among the Greeks the development of the seer was in the downward direction. Instead of rising in response to his opportunities, he yielded unreservedly to the temptations incident to his profession. He prostituted his powers in order to acquire wealth and influence. Degradation was the inevitable result. The seer who in the Homeric poems holds at least a dignified position becomes in process of time a sorry figure, little better than a detected cheat and charlatan, able to impose only on the least educated and most credulous ranks of society. Far more creditable on the whole was the record of the oracle of Delphi. It is only fair to recognise that the famous centre of Greek religion helped in many respects to maintain a standard of public righteousness. It did something more than issue riddling forecasts of a doubtful future. It used its religious influence to point out a line of right conduct, which it declared to be the will of heaven. But though this much can be said in favour of Delphi, it never succeeded in giving birth to anything like prophecy, and finally sank into decay and dishonour.

But whereas fifty years ago the only field of comparison open to scholars was provided by Greek and Latin literature, the case is now entirely altered. To-day it is possible not only to wonder aimlessly but to expect an answer to the question whether any figure like that of the Hebrew prophet ever appeared in Mesopotamia or Egypt. In spite of the declaration of some scholars, who seem to regard all Israelitish religion and culture as a plagiarism from the greater states, it still remains true that no satisfactory evidence is forthcoming to prove the point. An obscure reference in an Assyrian text to a man who offers intercession for an Assyrian king, and claims reward accordingly, affords little reason for supposing him to have been like one of the Hebrew prophets. In some measure both Egypt and Babylon recognise the moral law to be the will of their gods. Assyrian kings claimed to be the protector of the widow and the orphan. But though facts such as these reveal the essential bond between religion and ethics, they in no wise prove the existence of an order of men whose vocation it was to be spokesmen for the God of the weak and the oppressed, and in His name to denounce oppression even in defiance of the king's majesty.

But while the prophets, so far as the evidence goes, are seen to belong to Israel and to Israel only, it is nevertheless true that in their pictures of the future they appear to be making use of materials widely diffused throughout the East. Great interest, for example, attaches to the interpretation of an Egyptian papyrus, supposed to date from the period of the Hyksos (pp. 52, 54) or even earlier. In this writing some scholars have thought that they discovered an expectation of the future resembling the Messianic hope of Israel. It is said that the seer predicts a time of misery to be followed by an era of salvation under the government of a Divinely appointed ruler. The intricacy of the problem may be illustrated from the fact that the very papyrus on which such important inferences were based has recently been subjected to a further investigation, and in consequence has been retranslated in such a way as to remove most of the supposed parallelisms with Hebrew prophecy [cf. A. H. Gardiner, The Admonitions of an Egyptian Sage (Leipzig, 1909)]. However, though this particular piece of evidence may have proved untrustworthy, yet there remains sufficient reason for recognising the existence of a general expectation of some great world catastrophe to be followed by some great restoration. Thus, though it is impossible as yet to speak with certainty, it is probable that the Hebrew prophets were not the originators of an eschatology of doom, but availed themselves of a conception already current and gave it a deep ethical significance. If this be the true account of the matter, the inspiration under which they uttered their warnings and their encouragements will be accounted no less worthy of honour. Precisely as the revelation to the patriarchs and to Moses lay in the transformation and purification of ideas already prevalent in the ancient Semitic religion rather than in the origination of a completely new faith, so it may have been with the prophets and their visions of the future. Moreover, the hopes to which Hebrew prophecy gave currency were fulfilled. The promised Ruler and Saviour came, as they foretold, out of the house of David. And it was no matter of chance that the expectation of the Messiah had thus been fostered; its existence in Palestine when Christ came provided material upon which He worked. In the activity of the prophets the operation of the Spirit of God makes itself manifest, preparing long beforehand the conditions requisite for the revelation that should come in the fullness of time.

Nor is it only the silence of the ancient records which leads to the conclusion that in Israel alone were prophets to be found speaking in the name of a God of righteousness. In the matter of divination there is a significant difference between the religious atmosphere of Israel and of Babylon. In every early religion divination plays a large part. To members of the tribe it is of essential importance that at critical moments the will of their God should be declared. So it was in early Israel. There, as in other nations, specific means were used for discovering the will of Yahweh. For example, the Urim and Thummim (pp. 100f.) were evidently some form of sacred lot, by which fateful decisions could be reached. In Israel, however, there was a gradual, if often interrupted, advance to higher levels of religious belief. The employment of such crude and mechanical means of discovering the Divine purpose fell more and more into the background. The prophet rendered them unnecessary. He came forward claiming to possess the power of entering into the meaning of the Divine intention. As prophecy rose from height to height of religious insight, even the dream and the ecstatic vision played a less essential part. Man in the fullness of his self-conscious powers was admitted to intercourse with his Maker. In Babylon, on the contrary, religion followed a different line of development. There divination gained a complete ascendency. The interpretation of omens came to be regarded as a fine art. Every possible form of magic was practised. Chaldæan soothsayers were famous throughout the Eastern world. The contrast with Israel is patent. Prophecy can develop only where personality counts for much. In Babylon, so far as the evidence enables a judgment to be formed, it counted for nothing. That which found favour there was not the rugged, outstanding character of the man of God, but the smooth and supple skill of the professional reader of omens. The exaggerated prevalence of divination implies the presence of conditions that must have stifled prophecy. The truth is that prophecy is the flower of a faith in the living God. Where such faith is absent, it is idle to look for a prophet. If, therefore, it be asked why, notwithstanding her highly-developed civilisation, her complex life, and her elaborate learning, Babylon failed where Israel succeeded, the answer is not difficult to find. It was because the idea of God at Babylon was fundamentally different from that which obtained in Israel. There is no doubt that monotheistic conceptions gained some hold at Babylon. Marduk was placed in a position of isolated superiority above his divine competitors. But the most high God of Babylon was essentially other than the Most Highest of Israel. Babylon's God was a personification of natural phenomena. He was identified with the light in which he manifested himself. The conception of his nature in the mind of his worshippers was loose and fluid, easily amalgamating itself with that of other gods in their pantheon. It was far otherwise with Yahweh, as conceived by the prophets. He manifested Himself in the thunderstorm (Psalms 18), but He was not the storm. He sat in royalty above it. Neither could He be identified with other gods. Although in the early days of the monarchy the title Baal (Lord) was without scruple accorded to the God of Israel, yet Elijah had learnt that between the God of Israel and the god of Phœnicia there was an irreconcilable opposition. Yahweh was before all things the personal God, who made Himself known in great historical acts, as when with a mighty hand and stretched-out arm He had delivered His people from their bondage in Egypt. And of this personal Divine Being the characteristic quality was holiness. Not that the use of the words "Holy God" was peculiar to Israel. It was almost a technical expression of Semitic religion. The Phœnicians used it constantly. But in Israel we can trace the transformation of the meaning of the term under the influence of prophetic teaching. What at first signified little more than a supernatural aloofness, involving danger to the worshipper who, like Uzzah. (2 Samuel 6:7), pressed too close, came to connote the highest ethical qualities—purity, truth, and mercy. The God in whose nature these virtues found their perfect expression demanded them also from His worshippers. "Ye shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy" (Leviticus 19:2). Metaphysical terms are conspicuously absent from the vocabulary of Israel. The prophets did not discuss the Divine transcendence and the Divine holiness in the language of abstract philosophy. Nevertheless they were thrilled with the consciousness of them. Their whole religion was governed by the conception of the Holy One who was raised to an infinite height above the world, and would yet condescend to make known His designs to His servants the prophets.

This conception of the Divine nature was the root from which all prophecy derived its life. How, then, had it come into the heart of the prophet? In that question lies the ultimate problem not of the OT only, but of all revealed religion. What the prophets themselves thought about the matter is made clear in their writings. To them their belief in God was neither a product of their own reflections nor an inference drawn from a study of the phenomena of the world. Again and again they asserted their conviction that the voice of God had spoken to them. He had shown them His glory. They knew Him because He had revealed Himself to them. Of the overpowering strength of this confidence in the reality of their own inspiration there can be no question. It nerved them for the struggle of their lives. It held them to their task. It made them ready to face obloquy, persecution, and death in discharge of their duty. To doubt their sincerity would be absurd. But the inquiry must be pushed further back. What is the justification for thinking that they were right? What reason is there for believing that they had indeed been in touch with the living God, and were the ministers of His revelation?

The claim to speak as God's messengers was originally made by the prophets on the strength of experiences similar to those of seer and soothsayer. In all early societies the abnormal mental states of vision and ecstasy are as profoundly impressive to the onlookers as they are to the man who experiences them. Both he and they are convinced that these mysteries are conclusive evidence of intercourse with the spiritual world. In the opinion of his hearers no less than in his own the ecstatic is no longer himself; he has become the agent of a spiritual power, and even the mouthpiece of his God. Comparative religion has produced plentiful evidence showing how universally prevalent has been this interpretation of the mental phenomena in question. Nor is there any reason for demurring to the statement that psychologically Hebrew prophecy sprang from this origin. Even to the last prophecy was organically connected with the psychic capacity to see and hear things for which no material cause could be assigned. It was a peculiarity to which the prophet in the first instance owed his influence. But now the general attitude towards these attendant circumstances of early inspiration has been completely reversed. The unstable psychic temperament, with its tendency to fall into trances, instead of arousing respect as of old, is the object of suspicion. The fact that any claimant to inspiration was subject to trances and other mental disturbances would in many quarters to-day raise doubts as to his sanity, and would certainly weaken the force of his testimony. Possibly, however, the present strong aversion to anything but the normal process of everyday thought may be less justifiable than it assumes itself to be. The study of the abnormal psychology of genius is still in its initial stages. But even so it seems to indicate that something similar to ecstasy or trance has played no small part in the achievements of the supreme writers and artists of the world. It is the fashion to refer anything of the kind to the supposed action of the subliminal consciousness. Great truths and great conceptions, having been elaborated in the lower and hidden strata of the mental life, suddenly emerge into consciousness. The process is certainly abnormal. Considering its results, it would be ridiculous to call it morbid. And the distinction between the abnormal and the morbid needs to be kept steadily in view when the psychology of prophetic inspiration is being investigated. Undoubtedly the prophets were abnormal. They were men of genius. They were visionaries. Each of the greater prophets is careful to recount a vivid psychical experience through which he felt himself called to play the part of God's messenger. That these were the only occasions on which such experiences befell them is in itself unlikely; and the testimony of their writings, though not free from ambiguity, suggests at least some recurrences of the prophetic trance.

The evidence for the truth of prophetic revelation is to be looked for not in any particular circumstance, such as trance or vision, which attended its original reception by the prophet, but in its subsequent verification through the spiritual experience of mankind. The theology of Isaiah is guaranteed not by the fact that he fell into a trance in the Temple, but by the mighty influence which his teaching about God has exercised over the hearts of succeeding generations, and by the response which it continues to elicit. Moreover, it is evident that in the gradual development of the religion of Israel the prophets themselves came to attach less importance to vision. From their own spiritual experience they learned how Divine truth is recognised in daily intercourse with the Spirit of God. It may well be that on certain occasions new truths were flashed into minds rapt in trance or ecstasy, but it was neither the only nor necessarily the highest method whereby God revealed Himself to His prophets.

Whether the inspiration came suddenly or came gradually, it certainly did not extinguish the individual personality of the prophet. It did not reduce him to a mere passive instrument like the lyre in the hands of the player. A later age of Judaism, when the current of spiritual life was running low, set up this crude mechanical theory of inspiration. It was an a priori fabrication, representing what its authors imagined ought to have been God's way of speaking to mankind. It cannot be supported by evidence from the prophetic writings themselves. Nothing can be truer than that the prophets felt themselves to be the transmitters of messages which they had received. At the same time, nothing can be clearer than that these same prophets were endowed with an intensely individual life beyond the ordinary measure. Their inspiration accentuated their individuality. It produced a fullness of personal life. The same prophetic inspiration served also to promote a fullness of corporate life. It invigorated and defined the life of the people of God. Frequently the prophet was forced by the inspiration within him to place himself in direct opposition to the majority of his fellow-countrymen. By his own generation he was accounted an alien and even a traitor. Yet it was he who realised the true unity and continuity of the national life, and the magnificence of the task with which Israel was entrusted. He felt that he was helping to work out a great Divine plan. And he was not mistaken. The significance of OT prophecy will be altogether missed, unless it be recognised that the various prophets were all contributors to one work. Prophecy is a unity. A great connecting purpose runs through it, binding it all together. It is also part of a still greater and more august unity. It is an essential element in the Divine scheme of the redemption of the world through Christ. His work rested upon theirs. His revelation of the Father was the consummation and the vindication of their revelation of the God of Israel. "God who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son" (Hebrews 1:1).

(See also Supplement)

Lectionary Calendar
Sunday, November 17th, 2019
the Week of Proper 28 / Ordinary 33
ADVERTISEMENT
Commentary Navigator
Search This Commentary
Enter query in the box below
ADVERTISEMENT
To report dead links, typos, or html errors or suggestions about making these resources more useful use our convenient contact form
Powered by Lightspeed Technology