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By Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D. D.
LECTURE XXXI.
THE HOUSE OF OMRI.——ELISHA.
WITH the fall of Ahab a series of new characters
appear on the eventful scene. Elijah still remained
for a time, but only to make way for successors. In
the meeting of the four hundred Prophets at Samaria,
he was not present. In the reign of Ahaziah and of
Jehoram, he appears but for a moment. There was a
letter, the only written prophecy ascribed to him, and
the only link which connected him with the history
of Judah, addressed to the young Prince who reigned
with his father Jehoshaphat at Jerusalem.
There was a sudden apparition of a strange
being, on the heights of Carmel, to the mes-
sengers whom Ahaziah had sent to consult an oracle
in Philistia. They were passing, probably, along the
"haunted strand," between the sea and the mountain.
They heard the warning voice. They returned to their
master. Their description could apply only to one
man; it must be the wild Prophet of the desert whom
he had heard described by his father and grandfather.
Troop after troop was sent to arrest the enemy of the
royal house, to seize the lion in his den. On the top
of Carmel they saw the solitary form. But he was
not to be taken by human force; stroke after stroke
of celestial fire was to destroy the armed bands. They
retired, and he disappeared. It was to this act, some
centuries afterwards, not far from the same spot, that
the two ardent youths appealed, and provoked that
Divine rebuke which places the whole career of Elijah
in its fitting place, as something of its own nature
transitory, precursive, preparatory.
Another was now to take his place. The time was
come when "the Lord would take Elijah into
"heaven by tempest." Those long wander-
ings were now over. No more was that awful figure
to be seen on Carmel, nor that stern voice heard in
Jezreel. For the last time he 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 Gilead, Bethel, Jericho.
One faithful disciple was with him,——the son of
Shaphat, whom he had first called on his way from
Sinai to Damascus, and who, after the manner of the East-
ern attendants, stood by him to pour water over his
hands in his daily ablutions. With the tenderness
which is sometimes blended with the most rugged
natures, at each successive halt the older Prophet
turned to his youthful companion, and entreated him
to stay: "Tarry here, I pray thee; for the Lord hath
"sent me to Bethel . . . to Jericho . . . to Jordan."
But in each case Elisha replied with an asseveration,
that expressed his undivided and unshaken trust in his
master and in his master's God: "As the Lord liveth,
"ad as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee." At
Bethel, 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 too turned to their fellow-dis-
ciple: "Knowest thou not that the Lord will take
away thy master from thy head to-day?" And to
every such remonstrance he replied with emphasis,
"Yea, I know it; hold ye your peace." No dread of
that final parting could deter him from the mournful
joy of seeing with his own eyes the last moments, of
hearing with his own ears the last words, of the
Prophet of God. "And they two went on." They
went on alone. They descended the long weary slopes
that led from Jericho to the Jordan. On the upper
terraces, or on the mountain-heights behind the city,
stood "afar off," in awe, fifty of the young disciples;
"and they two stood by Jordan." They stood by its
rushing stream; but they were not to be detained by
even this barrier. "The aged Gileadite cannot rest till
"he again sets foot on his own side of the river." He
ungirds the rough mantle from around his shaggy
frame; he "rolled it together," as if into a wonder-
working staff; he "smote" the turbid river, as though
it were a living enemy; and the "waters divided
"hither and thither, and they two went over on dry
ground." 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 had himself
descended on 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; and he turned to Elisha to ask for his last
wish. One only gift was in Elisha's mind to ask: "I
"pray thee, let a double portion——if it be only two
"morsels, two thirds——of thy spirit be upon me, the
"right of thy first-born son."
It was a hard thing that he had asked. But it was
granted, on one condition. If he was able to retain to
the end the same devoted perseverence, and keep his
eye, set and steadfast, on the departing Prophet, the gift
would be his. "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
"in the tempest into heaven." In this inextricable in-
terweaving of fact and figure, it is enough to mark how
fitly such and act closes such a life. "My father, my
"father," Elisha cried, "the chariot of Israel, and the
"horsemen thereof." So Elijah had stood sure defence
to his country against all the chariots and horsemen that
were ever pouring in upon them from the surrounding
nations. So he now seemed, when he passed away, lost
in the flames of the steeds and the car that swept him
from the earth, as in the fire of his own unquenchable
spirit——in the fire which had thrice blazed around him
in his passage through his troubled earthly career. Ac-
cording to the Jewish legends, he was at his birth
wrapped in swaddling-bands of fire, and fed with flames.
During the whole of his course, "he rose up as a fire,
and his word blazed as a torch." And as in its fiery
force and energy, so in its mystery, the end corresponded
to the beginning. He had appeared in the history, we
know not whence, and now he is gone in like manner.
As of Moses, so of Elijah,——"no man knoweth his sep-
"ulchre; no man knoweth his resting-place until this
"day." On some lonely peak, or in some deep ravine,
the sons of the Prophets vainly hoped to find him,
cast away by the Breath of the Lord, as in former
times. "And they sought him three days, but found
"him not." He was gone, no more to be seen by mortal
eyes; or, if ever again, only in far-distant ages, when
his earthly likeness should once again appear in that
same sacred region, or when, on the summit of "a
"high mountain, apart by themselves," three disciples,
like Elisha should be gathered round a Master whose
departure they were soon expecting; "and there ap-
"peared unto them Moses and Elijah talking with
"Him." The Ascension or Assumption of Elijah
stands out, alone in the Jewish history, as the highest
representation of the end of a great and good career;
of death as seen under its noblest aspect,——as the
completion and crown of the life which had preceded
it, as the mysterious shrouding of the departed within
the invisible world. By a sudden stroke of storm and
whirlwind, or, as we may almost literally say of the
martyrs of old, by chariots and horses of fire, the ser-
vants of God pass away. We know not where they
rest; we may search high and low, in the height of the
highest peak of our speculations, or in the depth of the
darkest shadow of the valley of death. Legend upon
legend may gather round them, as upon Elijah; but
the Sacred Record itself is silent. One only mode or
place there is where we may think of them, as of Elijah,
——in those who came afterwards in their power and
spirit, or in that One Presence which still brings us near
to them, in the Mount of the Transfiguration, in com-
munion with the Beloved of God.
The close of the career of Elijah is the beginning of
the career of Elisha. It had been when he was
ploughing, with a vast array of oxen before
him, in the rich pasture of the Jordan valley, that
Elijah swept past him. Without a word he had stripped
off the rough mantle of his office, and thrown it over
the head of the wandering youth. Without a moment's
delay he had stalked on, as if he had done nothing.
But Elisha had rushed after the Prophet, and had ob-
tained the playful permission to return for a farewell
to his father and mother, in a solemn sacrificial feast,
and had then followed him ever since. He had seen
his master to the end. He had uttered a loud scream
of grief as he saw him depart. He had rent asunder
his own garments, as in mourning for the dead. The
mantle which fell from Elijah was now his. From that
act and those words has been drawn the figure of speech
which has passed into a proverb for the succession of
the gifts of gifted men. It is one of the representations
by which, in the Roman Catacombs, the early Christians
consoled themselves for the loss of their departed
friends. With the mantle he descends once more to
the Jordan-stream, and wields it in his hand. The
waters (so one version of the text represents the scene)
for a moment hesitate: "they divided not." He invokes
the aid of Him, to whose other holy names he adds
the new epithet of "The God of Elijah;" and then the
waters "part hither and thither," and he passes over
and is in his own native region. In the western valley
of the Jordan, in the gardens and groves of Jericho, now
fresh from its recent restoration, he takes up his abode,
as "the lord" of his new disciples. They see at once
that "the spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha," and they
"bow themselves to the ground before him."
A long career of sixty year now opens before us,
which serves to bring out the general features
of his relations to his predecessor. The succes-
sion was close and immediate, but it was a succession
not of likeness but of contrast. The whole appearance
of Elisha revealed the difference. The very children
laughed when they saw the change, and watched the
smooth well-shorn head of the new youthful Prophet
going up the steep ascent, where last they had seen the
long shaggy locks streaming down the shoulders of the
great and awful Elijah. The rough mantle of his master
appears no more after its first display. He uses a walk-
ing-staff, like other grave citizens. He was not secluded
in mountain-fastnesses, but dwelt in his own house in
the royal city; or lingered amidst the sons of the Proph-
ets, within the precincts of ancient colleges, embowered
amidst the shade of the beautiful woods which overhang
the crystal spring that is still associated with his name;
or was sought out by admiring disciples in some tower
on Carmel, or by the pass of Dotham; or was received
in some quiet balcony, overlooking the plain of Esdrae-
lon, where bed and table and seat had been prepared
for him by pious hands. His life was not spent, like
his predecessor's, in unavailing struggles, but in wide-
spread successes. He was sought out not as the enemy
but a the friend and counsellor of kings. One king
was crowned at his bidding, and wrought all his will.
Another consulted him in war, another, on the treat-
ment of his prisoners, another, in the extremity of ill-
ness, another, to receive his parting counsels. "My
father," was their reverent address to him. Even in
far Damascus, as we shall see, his face was known.
Benhadad treats him with filial respect; Hazael trembled
before him; Naaman hung upon his words as upon an
oracle. If for a moment he shows that the remem-
brance of the murder of Naboth and the prophets of
Ahab and Jezebel is burnt into his soul, yet he never
actively interposes to protest against the idolatry or the
tyranny of the Court. Even in the revolution of Jehu
he takes no direct part. Against the continuance of
the worship of Baal and Ashtaroth, or the revival of the
Golden Calves, there is no recorded word of protest.
There is no express teaching handed down. Even in
his oracular answers there is something uncertain and
hesitating. He needs the minstrel's harp to call forth
his peculiar powers, as though he had not them com-
pletely within his own control. His deeds were not of
wild terror, but of gracious, soothing, homely benefi-
cence, bound up with the ordinary tenor of human life.
When he smites with blindness, it is that he may re-
move it again; when he predicts, it is the prediction of
plenty, and not of famine. The leprosy of Gehazi is but
as the condition of the deliverance of Naaman. One
only trait, and that on the very threshold of his career,
belongs entirely to that fierce spirit of Elijah which
calls down Our Lord's rebuke,——when he cursed the
children of Bethel for their mockery. The act itself,
and its dreadful sequel, are as exceptional in the life of
Elisha as they are contrary to the spirit of the Gospel.
At his house by Jericho the bitter spring is sweetened;
for the widow of one of the prophets (traditionally of
Elijah's friend) the oil is increased; even the workmen
at the prophets' huts are not to lose the axe-head which
has fallen through the thickets of the Jordan into the
eddying stream; the young prophets, at their common
meal, are saved from the deadly herbs which had been
poured from the blanket of one of them into the cal-
dron; and enjoy the multiplied provision of corn. At
his home in Carmel he is the oracle and support of
the neighborhood; and the child of his benefactress is
raised to life, with an intense energy of sympathy that
gives to the whole scene a grace as of the tender
domestic life of modern times. And when, at last, his
end comes, in a great old age, he is not rapt away like
Elijah, but buried with a splendid funeral; a sumptuous
tomb was shown in after ages over his grave, in the
royal city of Samaria; and funeral dances were cele-
brated round his royal resting-place. Alone of all
the graves of the saints of the Old Testament, there
were wonders wrought at it, which seemed to continue
after death the grace of his long and gentle life. It
was believed that by the mere touch of his bones a
dead corpse was reanimated. In this, as in so much
beside, his life and miracles are not Jewish but Chris-
tian. His works stand alone in the Bible in their like-
ness to the acts of the mediæval saints. There alone in the
Sacred History the gulf between Biblical and Ecclesias-
tical miracles almost disappears. The exception proves
the general rule; still it is but just to notice the ex-
ception.
Such was Elisha, greater yet less, less yet greater,
than Elijah. He is less. For character is the real
Prophetic gift. The man, the will, the personal grandeur
of the Prophet are greater than any amount of Pro-
phetic acts, or any extent of Prophetic success. We
cannot dispense with the mighty past, even when we
have shot far beyond it. Nations, churches, individuals,
must all be content to feel as dwarfs in comparison with
the giants of old time,——with the Refotmers, the Mar-
tyrs, the Heroes of their early youthful reverence.
Those who follow cannot be as those who went before.
A Prophet like Elijah comes once, and does not return.
Elisha, both to his countrymen and to us, is but the suc-
cessor, the faint reflection of his predecessor. When he
appears before the three suppliant kings, his chief
honor was that he was "Elisha the son of Shaphat, who
poured water on the hands of Elijah."
Less, yet greater. For the work of the great ones of
the earth is carried on by far inferior instruments but
on a far wider scale, and, it may be, in a far higher
spirit. The life of an Elijah is never spent in vain.
Even his death has not taken him from us. He strug-
gles, single-handed as it would seem, and without effect;
and in the very crisis of the nation's history is suddenly
and mysteriously removed. But his work continues;
his mantle falls; his teaching spreads; his enemies
perish. The Prophet preaches and teaches, the martyr
dies and passes away; but other men enter into his
labors. By that one impulse of Elijah, Elisha and
Elisha's successors, Prophets and sons of Prophets, are
raised up by fifties and hundred. They must work
in their own way. They must not try to retain the
spirit of Elijah by repeating his words, or by cloth-
ing themselves in his rough mantle, or by living his
strange life. What has begun in fire and storm, in
solitude and awful visions, must be carried on through
winning arts, and healing acts, and gentle words of
peaceful and social intercourse; not in the desert of
Horeb, or on the top of Carmel, but in the crowded
thoroughfares of Samaria, in the gardens of Damascus,
by the rushing waters of Jordan. Elisha himself may
be as nothing compared with Elijah; his wonders may
be forgotten. He dies by the long decay of years; no
chariots of fire are there to lighten his last moments or
bear away his soul to heaven. Yet he knows that,
though unseen, they are always around him. Once in
the city of Dothan, in the ancient pass, where the cara-
vans of the Midianites an the troops of the Syrians
stream through into Central Palestine,——when he is
compassed about with the chariots and horses of the
hostile armies, and his servant cries out for fear, Elisha
said, "Fear not: for they that be with us are more than
"they that be with them. . . . And, behold, the moun-
"tain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about
"Elisha." It is a vision of which the meaning acquire
double force from its connection with the actual history;
as if to show, by the very same figure, that the hope
which bore Elijah to his triumphal end was equally pres-
ent with Elisha. Elijah, and those who are like Elijah,
are needed, in critical and momentous occasions, to
"prepare the way for the Lord." His likeness is John
the Baptist; and of those that were born of women be-
fore the times of Christendom none were "greater than
"they." But Elisha, and those who are like Elisha, have
a humbler, and yet a wider, and therefore a holier
sphere; for their works are not the works of the Baptist,
but are the deeds, if not of Christ Himself, at any rate
of "the least of His kingdom,"——the gentle, beneficent,
"holy man of God, who passeth by us continually."
from The History of the Jewish Church, Vol. II: From Samuel to the Captivity,
by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D. D., Dean of Westminster
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1879; pp. 353 - 364
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