Читать книгу King Saul - John C. Holbert - Страница 10

5

After Samuel’s nighttime visitation by YHWH, he had remained at Shiloh for a time, but YHWH’s promised vengeance against Eli soon appeared. The Philistines began their attacks on Israelite outposts in the west, overrunning them with comparative ease. News of their advance soon reached Shiloh, and a call for the Ark of the Covenant to be displayed on the enlarging battlefield went out. A group of soldiers came to get the Ark from the temple, and the people gathered for the ceremony for its coming forth. All sang the Ark’s song, waving banners and bits of old clothing, shouting so as to split the earth. But triumph soon turned to horror. Incredibly, the Philistines captured the sacred Ark, after destroying the army that bore it, and took it to their pagan temple of the corn god, Dagon. Both Hophni and Phineas, Eli’s wastrel sons, were among the battle’s dead. When news of their deaths reached him, Eli was generally unmoved, but when the news of the Ark’s capture came, the long-time priest, as usual sitting on his familiar seat near the entrance to the temple, fell over backwards and died. He was an incredible ninety-eight summers old, completely blind, and grossly fat. Samuel rushed to Eli, but it was too late; the priest was gone. His great weight had caused him to shatter his neck so that he had died instantly. And Samuel had remembered God’s fury at Eli and his house and knew that YHWH’s word had come true through his own mouth. He was more than ever convinced that he had been anointed God’s prophet.

Samuel had gotten up from the body of Eli and had gone to his room in the temple to pray for his old mentor. But his prayers had not come easily. The face of Eli floated in and out of his mind, as he lay prone in front of the altar. The din outside the temple was nearly overwhelming. The people of Shiloh were weeping and wailing for the dead Eli, for the loss of the ark, and just as much for themselves as their terror of the advancing Philistines consumed them. Several of them had removed the corpse of the priest and had begun the burial ritual. In the hot climate of the hill country, it was important to bury the dead quickly, since putrefaction was swift and the carrion creatures came rapidly in enormous and hungry numbers.

As he trudged slowly behind Eli’s body, carried aloft by six strong and straining men—the ancient priest had truly been enormously fat at the end—Samuel found some time to think of what needed to be done. Eli’s entire family was dead. None of the lesser priests of Shiloh was at all worthy to be considered for the role of high priest. There was little doubt in Samuel’s mind that he should be the new priest at the shrine. After all, he thought, it was my prophecy from YHWH that had brought calamity on Eli and Hophni and Phineas. It was I whom YHWH had chosen to deliver that hard word, and I delivered it at God’s command. It had come true in all particulars! The evil sons were dead; Eli was dead. I am alive, and I am the agent of God. Amidst the wailing and shouting of the Shilonites, a small smile played just briefly over Samuel’s lips, though his face was nearly consumed in an outward show of deep grief over the loss of his mentor.

Eli’s huge corpse was wrapped in cloth after being smeared with oil. And his old rod, that one he had first told the very young Samuel was the rod of the great Moses, was buried with him. Samuel spoke the customary words of blessing and thanks. But he added the following prayer as many eyes in the crowd, first bowed in piety, soon lifted in surprised wonder.

“O YHWH! You have spoken your word and had your way through your servant Eli for many years. He was your faithful slave for his whole life. Even at the end, he did what he thought best, however weak he was, however blind, however muddled in mind. So now, YHWH, here I stand, your servant Samuel. It is I you have chosen to speak your eternal word of truth. It is I who delivered the word of your judgment against Eli and his family. It is I who speak this day to you and for you. Make my words always your words. Make my mouth always your mouth. Let no words of mine fall to the ground unfulfilled. I give myself to you alone, O YHWH!”

Samuel’s youthful voice had risen in volume as he spoke so that the entire crowd could hear him with ease. His face grew red, the veins stood out in his neck, his thick shock of uncut brown hair was whipped by the wind. When he last invoked the name of YHWH, his long arms were raised in ecstasy. Incredibly, dark clouds rushed into the sky, and the strong wind freshened with what felt like an augury of rain. The people instinctively lowered their heads in awe, as the new prophet of God went on.

“O YHWH, the pagan enemy has captured your sacred box, your holy Ark. Show forth your power through it, O God. Bring to foolishness and emptiness their designs for its abuse. You alone, O YHWH, have power and strength! You alone, O YHWH, are creator and sustainer of the world! You, O YHWH, turn the plans of our foes to nothing. They are as nothing before you. We are your servants, the people of your pasture whom you chose for yourself, to be the fire of truth in your world, to become the hammer that breaks the rocks into pieces. Shatter your enemies, O God! Raise us up to be your agents of their destruction! We are yours, O God! We are yours! Give us your power. Give us your victory!”

Samuel’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was twisted into a screaming hole from which poured prophetic language, urgent words that brewed those who heard into a frenzy of foaming fury. The tears for the dead Eli were gone from every face; the fear of the Philistines had drained away in the flood tide of Samuel’s oratory. The cries of the crowd drowned whatever further words the prophet spoke, but no further words were needed. On the day of Eli’s death and on the day that the Ark of God was captured in the defeat of battle, a new prophet had been born publicly in Israel. The temple student had disappeared and in his place there now stood an oracle of God.

And Samuel knew it, knew it even as the words poured forth from his cracked lips. God had chosen him for this role. His mother, Hannah, had been right; he had a special destiny from YHWH. As the clamor of the people broke over him like the waves of the sea, he bathed in it, accepted it as his due. He was for now and always the prophet, Samuel, mouthpiece of the terrible God, YHWH of the Armies, and he did in fact speak for God on this earth. He fixed every eye he could see in the crowd with a stare as if to tell them that his face should accompany them wherever they went. He, Samuel, should guide their feet in the ways they should go. He, Samuel, should inhabit their dreams, as they searched for the future of their lives. Samuel was supreme; Samuel was the prophet of God!

He had felt at least a cubit taller as he strode with absolute confidence from the burial place and back toward the temple. Those in front of him parted as quickly as they would in the presence of a king, and those behind surged to follow him wherever he was going. He thought it important to return to the temple for one last time in order to lead a worship of YHWH and then to gather his few things for a journey. Samuel knew he needed to leave Shiloh. It was the past now; its day had gone. He needed a new place of his own, a place identified as the new hope of Israel, a place known as the place of Samuel. What better place than his hometown of Ramah? Both of his parents were dead, as was the fertile Peninnah. Elkanah, Samuel’s father, had died as a victim of the Philistine attacks in the west. Samuel had respected his father, but had not loved him. After all, Elkanah had doted on Peninnah at the expense of his own mother; no young boy enjoyed watching his mother slighted by a father who had little time for still another son.

Ramah was centrally located, well fortified, and well protected from the dangerous Philistines. He would return there and would create a center of power to rival any in the land. Israel and YHWH and Samuel were now ascendant!