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That all this represented a fundamental change is obvious, and it is important that we evaluate it.³⁴ It was a change which affected the whole structure of Israelite society. The people of Yahweh had become the Kingdom of Israel, the citizens of the Davidic state.

1. Little was left of the old order. The tribal league had given way to the state centered in the king. Such a development was inevitable as David conquered the Canaanite cities of the land and incorporated their population into Israel’s structure, and then went on to subdue a polyglot empire. There was need for a standing army, administrative and judicial machinery, the levying of taxes, if such a state was to be governed. But the tribal league had no such machinery. In fact David, not the tribal league, had created the structure. It centered in David, and it was up to him to hold it together. Even the capital city, Jerusalem, was his personal holding. The state had to be organized under the crown. No doubt David’s census (II Sam. 24) was a step, and a bitterly resented one, toward measures for conscription and the raising of taxes—both anathema to Israel. The process reached its climax when Solomon virtually abolished the tribal league and substituted for it twelve administrative districts subject to the crown (I Kings 4:7-19). Two of the district governors were the king’s own sons-in-law (4:11, 15). The people of Yahweh’s covenant had become the people of Solomon’s state.

In the process charisma gave way to the dynasty. This, too, was a gradual and inevitable change. Saul had been a charismatic hero acclaimed king. David, too, was a charismatic; but a private army and considerable political skill had furthered his rise, until he was formally elected king. But the state which David built was so personally his own that it needed an heir of David to hold it together. By the time David grew old, the question was not if his son would succeed him, but only which son would do so—and the reader of the court history of David (II Sam. 9–20; I Kings 1–2) knows what a rivalry that was. When Solomon came to the throne (I Kings 1), it was by palace plot, without reference to charismatic qualities or popular will at all. Charisma would never again select a leader in Jerusalem. The leader designated by Yahweh’s spirit had given way to the anointed son of the anointed king.

Nor was there much left of the ancient tribal simplicity. Israel, which had passed from the nomad to the agrarian life with the conquest, was now by way of becoming a commercial society with a considerable industrial superstructure. There was wealth; and some grew rich, while others, especially by contrast, grew poorer. There was the makings of a proletariat. There were princes, and there were also slaves. And above it all was the resplendent court of Solomon with its standing army, its functionaries and flunkies, its harem, and its princelings to the manner born. The nomad ideal persisted, and was to persist, but it was less and less of a reality. Such a state could never exist without tension, a tension which more than once flared into open rebellion. The feeling grew in the hearts of many: “We have no portion in David” (II Sam. 20:1).

2. Yet the state produced Israel’s Golden Age. Never again would she see the like. In one brief generation she had been transformed from a loose, disjointed tribal league, fighting for its life, into a united, self-conscious nation of some importance in the world. Most of the land thought of as “promised” was now, for the first and last time, in Israelite hands—a fact she never forgot. Literature and culture flourished as never before, and there was unexampled material prosperity. It was a proud thing to be an Israelite in the tenth century B.C.

So the Davidic state made an unforgettable impression. It must have seemed to many that Israel’s destiny had been realized in it beyond fondest dreams: that the promise to Abraham—“I will make of you a great nation” (Gen. 12:2)—had been amply fulfilled, and God had indeed established his Kingdom under his anointed in peace. In any case, we shall have to reckon from now on with the “David idea.” In the hard times which the future was to bring there grew a nostalgic yearning for “the good old days” of David. David himself suffered a transformation; the evil that he did forgotten, he was remembered as the man after God’s own heart whose house was to rule forever (II Sam. 7:16; 23:5). The age of David became no less than the lost Age of Gold. It would be impossible for a man of Judah to think of the coming Messiah save as a David redivivus, a new David.

This could only have been intensified as David and Solomon centered the national religious feelings upon Mount Zion. Now the religion of old Israel had never been tightly centralized. The worshiper might without sense of sin offer his sacrifices, as Samuel did, at any one of dozens of shrines. Yet the heart of the tribal league had always been the Ark shrine, which had last stood at Shiloh (I Sam. 1–4). But this had long lain in ruins, and the Ark had languished in neglect at Kiriath-jearim (I Sam. 7:1-2). David was the one who at length brought the Ark to Jerusalem (II Sam. 6) and set it up in a tent shrine there with Zadok and Abiathar (the latter of the house of Eli) as priests (II Sam. 20:25). It was a step of consummate acumen. For David thus linked his state to the Ark, to Shiloh and the tribal league, to the Mosaic heritage, and made claim to be the patron and protector of that heritage. The magnificent temple which Solomon built could only have served to enhance the prestige of Jerusalem as the rallying place of the national faith, the very dwelling place of Yahweh’s presence on earth.³⁵ Other shrines were not, of course, ruled out, but they were overshadowed. The process which was to weld all the hope of Israel to Jersualem the holy city had begun.

3. But it must be said that this brought in a mortal danger. An official, state-supported religion had been created, and where such exists, the danger is immense that it will place itself wholly at the service of the state and will begin to hallow the state in the name of its God. To be sure, there were factors that prevented Israel from deifying the state to the extent that this was done elsewhere in the ancient Orient. The king was not a god, as he was in Egypt. Nor could he properly be regarded as a divinely ordained mediator of the national “salvation,” a sort of “living Messiah,” as he was in Babylon.³⁶ The Israelite state was too near its beginnings for this. It had not existed, as it were, from all eternity. There still lived men who could remember that the state had been founded by the action of their own fathers, and that it had replaced the older order of the covenant league. To many of them the old order seemed both preferable and normative, the new a dangerous innovation. Israel could never with good conscience hallow the state as a divine institution.

Yet inevitably state and cult were integrated with each other. We must not forget that the shrine on Mount Zion was a royal installation; David had founded it, and Solomon had lavished all the wealth and prestige of the state upon it. David’s own sons were ordained as priests there (II Sam. 8:18 [Heb.]). Although the details are not clear to us, it is likely that the king himself played a central role in the cult (e.g., II Sam. 6; I Kings 8). The king in turn was hailed in the ritual as the (adopted) son whom God would surely defend from his foes (Pss. 2:7; 89:27; II Sam. 7:14). How much of a pagan royal ideology Israel absorbed, and how rapidly, cannot be said with assurance. But as the monarchy absorbed foreigners and came into contact with foreign nations, it must have assimilated foreign ideas as well.³⁷ We may believe that not a few in Israel became accustomed to view the state in a wholly pagan light.

In any case the temptation was insidiously present to place religion at the service of the state. That the king had power over the clergy is illustrated by the fact that when the veteran priest Abiathar was so ill-advised as to hew to the wrong political line (I Kings 1:7, 25), he was summarily dismissed by Solomon (I Kings 2:26-27), past faithful service to the contrary notwithstanding. It was inevitable that as the years passed, the aims of the state and the aims of religion should tend ever more closely to coincide: the state supports the cult, and the cult in turn exists for the state. It is the business of the cult to intercede with the Deity on behalf of the state, with the aid of its ritual to maintain that harmonious balance which would protect the state from ill fortune within and without. If this be done, the state need have no fear; for it is God’s “kingdom,” composed of God’s chosen people, and ruled by his anointed “son,” the king: God will eternally defend the state. Thus are all the purposes of God in history equated with the existing order and made realizable in terms of it.

Such was the temptation. Would Israel succumb to it wholly? Would her sense of destiny as the people of God be transferred lock, stock, and barrel to the state? Would that cohesive sense of peoplehood that was hers be satisfied by the privilege of citizenship in the Kingdom of Israel? Would that robust confidence in the future which had activated her and driven her on toward a Promised Land, and written in her spirit—though she may not have known it—the vision of a city not made with hands, be satisfied with the city of Jerusalem and the material plenty which Solomon could provide? In other words, would Israel mistake the Davidic state for God’s, and imagine that in it God had established his Kingdom?

That was Israel’s question. It is a question which is neither ancient nor irrelevant, but is asked of us today. We are, it is true, in no external particular to be compared with the people Israel. But we, like them, are a people not very far from our origins, from the patterns of the past and the great faith of the past—yet very far indeed. Like Israel we were lured on by a vision and a promise: a land of plenty, of freedom and human dignity. And we pressed toward that goal as if to that Promised Land “flowing with milk and honey.” We have created a nation greater than David’s, prosperity such as Solomon never dreamed of, and with it a complete metamorphosis of the national character. A few years have brought many changes.

So it is that the question before us is not unlike that which the monarchy posed for Israel. Perhaps, so far, it is only a question. But it is a question which cannot be evaded, and it matters greatly how we answer it. Will our destiny as a nation which calls itself Christian be satisfied in terms of the economic prosperity and the national might which we have created? Will we seek no higher salvation than the present order can provide in terms of increased income, automobiles, and television sets? What is worse, will we, because we have churches and because our political forms are hospitable to their growth, assume that the present order is the God-ordained order which God—if he be just—may be called upon to defend always? The people that answers the question so, will see it as the sole function of religion to support and to hallow in the name of God its own material best interests. But it will never begin to understand the meaning of the Kingdom of God.

It is therefore of interest to see how that question was answered in Israel. And to that we must now turn.

¹ Properly speaking, the messianic hope is the hope of the coming Prince (Anointed One) of the line of David, as in the passage just quoted. A messianic passage, then, is one that specifically mentions the Messiah. In a loose and popular sense, however, “messianic” has come to be a designation for all passages which speak of the future hope of Israel, whether the Messiah is mentioned or not.

² For the sake of consistency the dates given for this period of Egypt’s history will follow those in W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1940), which are those of L. Borchardt. If the chronology of M. B. Rowton (Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 34 [1948], 57-74) be correct—and Albright himself is inclined to accept it (American Journal of Archaeology, LIV-3 [1950], 164, 170)—the date for Ramesses II must be lowered to 1290-1224, that for Ramesses III to ca. 1180-1150, and others correspondingly.

³ For the latest discussion see the article of Albright mentioned above: “Some Oriental Glosses on the Homeric Problem,” American Journal of Archaeology, LIV-3 (1950), 162-76.

⁴ What little had once existed had apparently been broken up some centuries previously by the Hyksos invaders; cf. A. Alt, Die Landnahme der Israeliten in Palästina (Leipzig: Druckerei der Werkgemeinschaft, 1925).

⁵ For all matters of biblical geography the reader is urged to consult G. E. Wright and F. V. Filson, The Westminster Historical Atlas to the Bible (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1945).

⁶ The Amarna Letters were written by vassal kings of Palestine and Syria to the court of Amenophis IV (1377-1360) at Tell el-Amarna, where they were found. The name Ḫabiru (in other texts ʽApiru or Khapiru) seems to be etymologically the equivalent of Hebrew, although there is much debate on this point. But the presence of the name over a span of centuries in places as far removed as Nuzi in Mesopotamia, Boghaz-Köi in Asia Minor, Ras Shamra in northern Syria, as well as in Egypt, forbids us simply to identify the two. Ḫabiru seems to have been a class, not a racial, designation. While the Hebrews of the Bible were no doubt Ḫabiru, the latter term included far more than the biblical Hebrews.

⁷ Josh. 24 seems clearly to reflect the integration of new blood into the Israelite tribal league. It will be noted that some of the participants, unlike the Israelites of the Exodus, were still pagans (vss. 14 ff.). That Canaanites were also gradually absorbed is witnessed by a variety of evidence: e.g., Canaanite cities such as Shechem (Gen. 34), Hepher, and Tirzah (Josh. 12:17, 24) appear also as subclans of Manasseh (Josh. 17:2-3).

⁸ Towns such as Bethel, Lachish, Eglon, and Debir (all mentioned in Josh. 10 or Judg. 1) are known to have been put to the torch and reoccupied at this time. Jericho and Ai (Josh. 6–8) raise particular problems but cannot be used to impeach the essential historicity of the Joshua narrative. For a statement of the evidence see W. F. Albright, “The Israelite Conquest of Canaan in the Light of Archaeology,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, 74 (1939), 11-23; cf. idem, The Archaeology of Palestine (Harmondsworth: Pelican Books, 1949), pp. 108-9. For an excellent popular summary cf. G. E. Wright, “Epic of Conquest,” The Biblical Archaeologist, III-3 (1940), 25-40; cf. idem, “The Literary and Historical Problem of Josh. 10 and Judges 1,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies, V-2 (1946), 105-14. The latest and most complete discussion of the whole problem of Exodus and conquest is H. H. Rowley, From Joseph to Joshua (London: Oxford University Press, 1950). My views are expressed at greater length in the Introduction and Exegesis of Joshua in The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. II (New York and Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, 1953).

⁹ For an excellent introduction to the mind of ancient paganism, pointing up its radical difference from that of Israel, cf. H. Frankfort, ed., The Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1946). A splendid statement of the peculiar nature of Israel’s faith is G. E. Wright, The Old Testament Against Its Environment (Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1950).

¹⁰ It is no longer possible to view early Israel’s faith as a tribal religion which gradually evolved into monotheism, as was the fashion in the Wellhausen school; recently I. G. Matthews, The Religious Pilgrimage of Israel (New York: Harper & Bros., 1947). The authoritative statement of the evidence for Mosaic monotheism is W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, ch. iv. Unwilling to define Mosaic religion as more than an incipient monotheism, but strongly asserting the unity of Israel’s faith, are, e.g.: W. Eichrodt, Theologie des Alten Testaments (3rd ed.; Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1948), I, 1-6, 104 ff., et passim; in popular language H. H. Rowley, The Rediscovery of the Old Testament (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1946), ch. v.

¹¹ The Decalogue, in a form underlying the parallel versions in Exod. 20 and Deut. 5, must, in the writer’s opinion, be regarded as the very charter of Mosaism. Cf. P. Volz, Mose und Sein Werk (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1932), pp. 20 ff., for a strong defense; in English, H. H. Rowley, “Moses and the Decalogue” (Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, 34 [Sept., 1951]) with full bibliography.

¹² Jehovah (Heb. Yahweh) seems to be part of a formula (cf. Exod. 3:14) meaning, “He who causes to be what comes into existence.” Cf. W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, pp. 197-98.

¹³ A much larger body of literature goes back to the earliest period (tenth century and before) than was formerly thought. This includes poems—e.g., the Song of Deborah (Judg. 5); Josh. 10:12-13; the Blessing of Jacob (Gen. 49); the Blessing of Moses (Deut. 33; cf. Cross and Freedman, Journal of Biblical Literature, LXVII [1948], 191-210); the Balaam poems (Num. 23–24; cf. Albright, idem, LXIII [1944], 207-33); the Song of Moses (Exod. 15; cf. Albright, Studies in Old Testament Prophecy, H. H. Rowley, ed. [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1950], pp. 5-6); numerous psalms (e.g., 29, 67, 68). Besides these are the David biography (II Sam. 9–20; I Kings 1–2) and no doubt others of the Samuel-Saul-David cycles. Further, even if we were to grant that the stories of the Patriarchs, Exodus, and conquest (in their oldest recension commonly called J) received final form only in the ninth century (the writer prefers an earlier date), they must be assumed to contain material and to rest on a chain of tradition centuries older.

¹⁴ The covenant idea is so important that W. Eichrodt, op. cit., has reconstructed the entire Old Testament theology around it. The writer is in fundamental agreement. It is true that the word “covenant” is rarely used in the earliest sources, but the idea is larger than the word. It is linked with Israel’s whole notion of election and with the very structure of the tribal league. Cf. Wright, op. cit., pp. 54-68.

¹⁵ On the Old Testament idea of election cf. H. H. Rowley, The Biblical Doctrine of Election (London: Lutterworth Press, 1950); also Wright, op. cit., ch. ii. The patriarchal narratives are not to be viewed with the once-fashionable hypercriticism: cf. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, pp. 179-89; Rowley, “Recent Discovery and the Patriarchal Age” (Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, 32 [Sept., 1949]) with full bibliography.

¹⁶ Cf. Albright, From Stone Age to Christianity, pp. 189-96, for the evidence.

¹⁷ Perhaps somewhat as the traditions of early America have become normative for all Americans, even those but recently arrived. Thus the child of immigrant parents may speak—and with justice—of our Pilgrim Fathers.

¹⁸ The word ḥesed cannot be exactly translated. The usual rendition in the English Bible (“lovingkindness,” “mercy,” etc.) is most inadequate. The word is intimately related to the idea of the covenant. When it is used of God, it is very nearly the equivalent of “grace.” It refers to the favor of God which summoned Israel into covenant and the steadfast love which he shows them even in spite of unworthiness. When used of man, the word denotes that proper response to grace which is utter loyalty to the covenant God and obedience to his will. Cf. N. H. Snaith, Distinctive Ideas of the Old Testament (Philadelphia: The Westminister Press, 1946), ch. v; and, more briefly, idem, in A Theological Word Book of the Bible, A. Richardson, ed. (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1951), pp. 136-37.

¹⁹ Cf. Eichrodt, op. cit., I, 8, et passim. This does not mean that we may read either the New Testament doctrine or later Old Testament concepts of the kingship of Yahweh back into this primitive theocracy.

²⁰ In fairness to the reader it must be said that there is the widest divergence of opinion regarding the origins of Israelite eschatology. W. Eichrodt (op. cit., I, 240-57) has splendidly expressed what is essentially my own position, which has been briefly stated in an article, “Faith and Destiny” (Interpretation, V-1 [1951], 9-11). The effort of Gunkel, Gressmann, Breasted, and others (see references in above article) to explain Old Testament eschatology as a borrowing from Egypt or Babylon seems to me unsuccessful—so also that of Mowinckel and others to find its origin in an annual Enthronement Festival supposed to have taken place during the monarchy. Although Hebrew eschatology is superficially paralleled in pagan texts, and although a royal ideology and the frustration of national political hopes no doubt stimulated it and gave it shape, its origin must be sought in the very nature of Israel’s faith itself.

²¹ She was very like a Grecian amphictyony, such as the Delphic league, numerous examples of which are known, many of them with twelve members. The basic discussion is M. Noth, Das System der zwölf Stämme Israels (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1930); in English, W. F. Albright, Archaeology and the Religion of Israel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1942), pp. 95-110.

²² See especially A. Alt, Die Staatenbildung der Israeliten in Palästina (Leipzig: A. Edelmann, 1930). The term is originally Max Weber’s.

²³ I find it impossible to agree with those commentators (e.g., G. F. Moore, Judges [International Critical Commentary; New York: Chas. Scribner’s Sons, 1895, 1923], p. 230) who regard the verse as the reflection of late, antimonarchical sentiment. It is part of an unimpeachably old narrative.

²⁴ In I Sam. 8–13 the historian has woven together two parallel stories of the rise of Saul (see the commentaries), one of them tacitly favorable to the monarchy, the other bitterly hostile. Ch. 8 belongs to the latter. But it is not on that account to be regarded as a late, even exilic production (so, e.g., H. P. Smith, Samuel [International Critical Commentary; New York: Chas. Scribner’s Sons, 1899, 1909], p. 55) reflecting disillusionment with the state. On the contrary, the two stories accurately reflect the tension which was there from the beginning.

²⁵ Cf. note 2 above. Perhaps a date some fifteen years later would be more correct.

²⁶ It is interesting that the old narrative of I Sam. 9 refrains from using the word “king” (melek), preferring instead the word “leader” (nāgîd). Cf. Eichrodt, Israel in der Weissagung des Alten Testaments (Zürich: Gotthelf-Verlag, 1951), p. 22; cf. also II Sam. 5:2.

²⁷ His service to the people of Jabesh-gilead won their undying devotion (cf. I Sam. 11; 31:11-13). Perhaps the campaign against Amalek (I Sam. 15) was designed partly to woo Judah. At any rate, there were those in the south who preferred Saul to their own David (I Sam. 23:19-23; 26:1-2).

²⁸ David had been a Philistine vassal (I Sam. 27), and he could hardly have taken such a step without at least their tacit approval. No doubt the Philistines wished to keep Israel divided between David and the house of Saul. A unified Israel was the last thing they wanted (II Sam. 5:17).

²⁹ Cherethites and Pelethites are mentioned on several occasions (II Sam. 8:18; 20:23; 15:18). These were, as the names indicate, contingents recruited from the Aegean peoples of the coastal plain. With them on one occasion (II Sam. 15:18) are mentioned six hundred Gittites (men of Gath, a Philistine city).

³⁰ One of Solomon’s chariot cities, Megiddo (I Kings 9:15), has been excavated by archaeologists of the Oriental Institute. Large stables for horses were found. For a popular discussion cf. Robert M. Engberg, “Megiddo—Guardian of the Carmel Pass,” Part II, The Biblical Archaeologist, IV-1 (1941), 11-16; cf. G. E. Wright, “The Discoveries at Megiddo, 1935-39,” ibid., XIII-2 (1950), 28-46.

³¹ W. F. Albright has suggested that “Gezer” is a corruption of “Gerar” (in the Hebrew very similar in appearance), a town near the Egyptian frontier of Palestine (Gen. 26:1); Albright, Archaeology and the Religion of Israel, p. 214, and references there.

³² Reading the Hebrew of I Kings 10:28, “And the source of the horses which Solomon had was . . . from Que [Cilicia]; the king’s merchant’s got them from Que at a [set] price.” Cf. most recently W. F. Albright, Journal of Biblical Literature, LXXI (1952), 249.

³³ These are known from the excavations of Nelson Glueck. Surprisingly the Bible does not mention them. Cf. N. Glueck, The Other Side of the Jordan (New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1940), pp. 89-113.

³⁴ The work of A. Alt, Die Staatenbildung der Israeliten in Palästina, is basic. For a brief discussion of the Davidic state in English see my article, “The Age of King David,” Union Seminary Review, LIII-2 (1942), 87-109.

³⁵ For further reading on the architecture and symbolism of the temple the following may be suggested: W. F. Albright, Archaeology and the Religion of Israel, pp. 142-55; G. E. Wright, “Solomon’s Temple Resurrected,” The Biblical Archaeologist, IV-2 (1941), 17-31; idem, “The Significance of the Temple in the Ancient Near East,” Part III, ibid., VII-4 (1944), 65-77; P. L. Garber, “Reconstructing Solomon’s Temple,” ibid., XIV-1 (1951), 2-24; also F. M. Cross, “The Tabernacle,” ibid., X-3 (1947), 45-68.

³⁶ Strong arguments have been made, especially by certain Scandinavian scholars, for the existence of the notion of the divine king in Israel, and of an annual Enthronement Festival patterned upon the Babylonian New Year. Discussion of this complex issue is forbidden, but the evidence for these things seems to me tenuous in the extreme. See the judicious remarks of G. E. Wright, The Old Testament Against Its Environment, pp. 62-68. Cf. also H. Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1948), pp. 337-44; A. Alt, “Das Königtum in den Reichen Israel und Juda,” Vetus Testamentum, I-1 (1951), 19-22; M. Noth, “Gott, König, Volk im Alten Testament,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 47-2 (1950), 157-91.

³⁷ Egypt as well as Canaan would be a likely source of such ideas (cf. Alt, ibid.). Solomon was a son-in-law of the pharaoh, and at least some of the organization of the court at Jerusalem was patterned on Egyptian models. See the writer’s article mentioned in note 34 (pp. 93, 98) and references there, especially K. Elliger, “Die dreissig Helden Davids,” Palästinajahrbuch, 31 (1935), 29-75; R. de Vaux, “Titres et fonctionnaires égyptiens à la cour de David et de Salomon,” Revue Biblique, XLVIII (1939), 394-405.