Part 7
We are inclined to draw distinctions here which are necessary for dogmatic precision. Thus we distinguish between the atonement itself and the application of the atonement. The symbolism of the ritual takes these two in one. When it says that 'blood covers' (that is the technical term of the law for expiation), it means to describe in one word the atonement as we call it, plus the application of the atonement (which we call justification). Now in this inclusive sense the process of covering is not completed until the blood, as the
symbol of death, has been applied to the altar, i.e., brought into contact with God, who dwells in the altar. This is the simple reason why the law refrains from saying that the slaying atones, and why it is so careful to emphasize that the application of the blood to the altar has this effect. But this cannot be held to prove that the slaying has nothing to do with the effect. Besides, there is also an external reason why the law dwells more upon the manipulation of the blood than upon the slaying of the animal. The latter was simple and the same in all cases, whereas the former was complex, varying in the various classes and for the various occasions of sacrifice. It needed discriminating attention.
So far from negating the expiatory power of death in a vicarious sense, the constant references to the blood rather illuminatingly confirm this. To the conception of the ritual 'blood' and 'life' are identical. And 'life' and 'soul' are likewise identical. We need, therefore, only to inquire into the Old Testament signification of 'soul' to reach the inwardness of the matter on this point. Besides several others, the classic passage on the subject is Lev. 17:11. Here we read: 'For the life of the flesh' (i.e. living flesh) 'is in the blood; and I have given it to you upon the altar to make covering for your souls; for it is the blood that makes covering by reason of the life'.
What, then, is the Old Testament conception of 'soul'? In that the reason is placed for the blood's efficacy to cover for souls. The two associations of the term 'soul' are in the first place that of individuation, secondly, that of sensibility. Both are, of course, physiologically, and hence symbolically, intimately connected with the blood in the body. 'Soul' is that which results when the general spirit of life joins breath to a body. This is not meant for an affirmation of trichotomy; it is a practical distinction between spirit and soul, not as two entities, substantially considered, but as two aspects of the same thing. And in the same practical way soul and sensation, feeling, are associated.
The question, therefore, is simply reduced to this: what makes the principle of individuation and of sensibility the proper instrument for expiation? It will be seen at a glance that the answer to this is found in the vicarious theory, and in it alone. That which is a substitute for another person must be an individual, and that which undergoes punishment for another must be capable of feeling, of suffering. Taking it together, then, we may say, that the blood has its rich symbolism in sacrifice, first, because it stands for death, secondly because it stands for the death of an individual, substitutionary person, and thirdly because it stands for a death involving suffering. All this is given in the slaying, but slaying or dying are abstract conceptions, that cannot be made subject to sight symbolically, whereas 'blood' and 'soul' and 'life' are concrete things.
VICARIOUSNESS DEFINED
The passage Lev 17:11 also contains the most explicit statement of the principle of vicariousness to be found in the law anywhere. It virtually amounts to saying: soul works covering for soul. The inherent vicariousness of the statement is recognized by all exegetes, even by such as have no theological use for its teaching. Still a certain latitude of interpretation, within the limits of vicariousness, seems possible.
There are, in the abstract, three possibilities. One can say the passage teaches that for the integral life of the offerer, due to God, another integral life, that of the animal is substituted. This it will be observed, while retaining the principle of vicariousness, rules out entirely the idea of vicarious death, vicarious suffering. Antitypically speaking it would amount to saying that for the positive gift of our life in consecration to God, which we had failed to bring, Christ has, by way of substitution, given God His life of service, to reimburse God for ours, but that the suffering of the Saviour played no part in the matter, inasmuch as God was simply concerned with receiving consecration, and had no interest in the payment through suffering
for offences committed. In other words, the justice of God is entirely ruled out. Christ was our substitute in His active obedience only.
Again one may say: God does indeed reckon with sins but not in the sense of punishment being required for them; the only way in which He reckons with them is by desiring a positive gift that will compensate for the injury offered Him. This would amount to saying that Christ's active obedience had served for making God forego the punishment of our sins, in view of the rich obedience rendered by Christ. It is again the active obedience that plays the exclusive part, but on this view it plays it at least with a side-reference to the sin that was committed, and had to be made good somehow.
Or, finally, one may say: the sacrificial animal in its death takes the place of the death due the offerer. It is forfeit for forfeit. Christ not merely in His positive service, but through His suffering and death made up for the abnormality of our sin. He satisfied the justice of God. We maintain that the first and second interpretations, while not perhaps absolutely ruled out by Lev. 17:11 alone, do not place the most natural construction upon the words, and, taken together with the general trend of Biblical teaching on the atonement are not plausible.
THE MEANING OF 'COVERING'
Our next enquiry addresses itself to the precise symbolical conception the law frames for what we call expiation, that of 'covering'. The Hebrew word is kapper, piel infinitive of kaphar. Covering can be of two kinds, obliterative and protective. It is thought by some that the latter is the idea originally underlying the use of the word for expiation. The symbolism would convey that the offerer through the interposition of the blood between God and himself obtained safety from the reaction of the divine anger against sin. The obliterative interpretation is that the stain of sin and its impurity are put out of the sight of God through the blood smeared over them. It is not a matter of grave doctrinal importance, but one
of historical interest largely, which of the two figures lies at the basis of the Biblical usage. It is not even certain that in Biblical times the etymological associations were still distinctly remembered. The word may have become a purely technical ritual term.
Most seem to speak in favour of the original understanding of the process as one of obliteration. In secular use the term seems to have this for a background. Jacob 'covers' the face of Esau through sending a present before himself. In this way the anger on Esau's face is 'covered', put out of sight [Gen. 32:20]. There is further a religious usage outside of the sphere of sacrifice, and in this also the idea of obliteration shines clearly through [cp. Psa. 32:1; 65:3; 78:38; Isa. 22:14; Jer. 18:23]. In these cases the object is almost uniformly the sin, not the sinner, and to the former the idea of protection afforded by God could not properly apply. Then there are the various synonymous phrases in which the Old Testament describes the removal of sin on the part of God. These are most of them of an obliterative sort [Neh. 4:5; Isa. 6:7; 27:9; 38:17; 44:22; Jer. 18:23; Mic. 7:19].
We may infer from all this that in the province of sacrifice likewise the idea of removal of sin through obliteration was the originally prevailing one. A striking difference should be noted, however, between the secular and the religious use of the conception. Outside of religion it is the offender who does the covering, and the person offended is covered. Jacob covers the face of Esau. In the sphere of religion, ritual or otherwise, God, the offended Person, procures the covering, and it is applied to the sinner. Man cannot cover the face of God. The idea, as though man could do anything whatsoever in order to effect a change in the disposition or attitude of God towards sin or the sinner, is utterly repugnant to the spirit of Biblical religion. Between man and man that may be possible, but not between God and man. If the normal relation is to be restored, it is the prerogative of God to resolve this and to put His resolve into operation.
In paganism all this is different. Here the figure employed is that of 'smoothing' the gods, that is of removing the wrinkles out of their frowning face. Thus the Greek says hilaskesthai tous theous, the Latin says placare deos. This figure underlies the technical pagan term of 'expiating'. If the translation of the Scriptures into Greek, or Latin, or the modern languages, could have avoided such terms, there would have been less danger of perverting the Biblical idea through giving it a pagan equivalent grown on a totally different root. But the translators, perhaps, had no choice. Their use of 'covering' would probably have made the language unintelligible to the Greek or Roman reader. This state of affairs imposes the duty upon us of not relying on the Greek or Latin or English sound of a term used in such connections, but carefully to consult the Hebrew, and make our construction of the process on the basis of that alone. To neglect doing this exposes in the present case to a very dangerous misconception.
When the Bible says that God 'expiates' man, not man God, the inference is easily drawn that the whole abnormality consists in the ill-disposition of man, and that all that is required consists in God's smoothing this out. The whole process of atonement would become in this way subjectivized. The resulting concept is a hybrid: it has the Biblical construction, and the pagan mould of thought. To escape from the misunderstanding all that is required is to go back from the term 'expiating' to the term 'covering'. Man needs 'covering', God needs no 'covering'. God is the subject, man is the object of the act. The reason why man needs covering is something that lies in him, but it is not something that lies in man considered in itself. It creates the need of covering, because of something that is in God. The sin in man, as calling forth a reaction from the offended holiness of God, is what renders the covering necessary. It is a real help here to keep in mind the full formula in which the law itself describes the process: 'the priest shall cover upon him on account of his sin' [Lev. 4:35].
While the protective view of the transaction fits equally well into the true doctrine of the atonement as the other, Ritschl has worked it out
in a manner which leads far away from the Biblical premises of sacrifice. He assumes that the protection which man needs and the law provides does not arise from man's sinfulness, but from his finiteness as a creature, which endangers his life when entering into the presence of the majesty of God. But, when man appears with the prescribed gifts, and the priests perform for him the appointed rites, he receives adequate protection from this danger, and is enabled to exercise fellowship with God. And from this fellowship with God he receives, besides other things, also the favour of the forgiveness of sin. It will be noticed, that this reverses the usual order of things. We are accustomed to say, and understand the Bible as saying, that forgiveness is the source from which fellowship flows. Ritschl would turn this around, making fellowship the source from which forgiveness proceeds. The whole tenor of the law is against this. As we have seen, the covering is kept by the law in the closest connection with the fact of sin. To deny this is to void the sacrificial system of all ethical content.
The next step in the ritual after the covering is the burning of certain parts of the animal upon the altar. What was the symbolical meaning of this act? Some would find in it a further carrying out of the idea expressed in the slaying of the animal. The consumption of it by fire would then symbolize that more intensified experience of death which awaits the sinner in the hereafter. Against this there are fatal objections. After expiation had once taken place, and the offerer's soul had been effectually covered, the end of the penal transaction had been reached. Had the meaning of the burning been what is assumed on this view, then the act of expiation ought to have followed, not preceded the burning. The covering ought to have been made by means of the blood and ashes combined. In the vegetable offering the burning was exactly the same as in the animal offering, and yet no expiation entered into the former.
The verb descriptive of the burning is everywhere hiqtir. This verb does not describe burning of the consuming kind, but of the sublimating kind, a process whereby something is changed into a
finer substance. The verb for destructive burning is saraf, and this is actually used for the burning of parts of the animal outside the camp, but never of the burning upon the altar. Moreover, the law speaks of the altar-burning as yielding a sweet odour of delight to Jehovah. While Scripture teaches that the punishment of sin is required by the justice of God, it never speaks of this as giving delight to God. On the contrary, that which is represented as yielding delight to Jehovah is the surrender of man's life in consecration of obedience. In this sense, therefore, we must understand the burning upon the altar.
The question, however, may be raised, whether this consecration is the vicarious one offered God by the substitute of the offerer, or the consecration of the offerer himself. If the latter were true, we should have to say that at this point the symbolico-vicarious significance of the ritual came to an end, and the purely symbolical one took its place. But this would inevitably have introduced a certain ambiguity and confusion into the ritual. And there is no reason whatever for finding a conflict between vicariousness and consecration. Although expiation cannot be made by man himself, and consecration by the grace of God can be subjectively inwrought into the life of man, yet we also know of an active consecratory obedience offered to God on behalf of sinners by Christ. Our Lord employs ritual language, when affirming that He sanctifies Himself for them (i.e., for the suffering of His death) [John 17:19]. And Paul does the same, when, speaking of Christ's active obedience, he says: 'Christ also loved us, and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for an odour of a sweet smell' [Eph. 5:2].
The final stage in the ritual of sacrifice consisted in the sacrificial meal. This was peculiar to the peace-offerings. In speaking of the Passover we have already noticed the main characteristics of this class of sacrifice. The Hebrew name for it is shelamim. The adjective corresponding to this is shalem meaning 'integral', 'uninjured', 'living in peace and friendship with somebody'. It is natural to think, in connection with this, first of all of the state of forgiveness following the expiation. But, while this is not excluded, since in the sacrifice
preceding the meal there is real expiation, yet we must take care not to stress this side of the matter one-sidedly.
'Peace' is in Scripture a far more positive conception than it is with us. The peace-offering accordingly symbolizes the state of positive favour and blessedness enjoyed in the religion of Jehovah, which at all times includes more than the sacrificial relief obtained from sin. In the Orient a meal can signify both the cessation of hostility and the communion of friendship. The rendering 'peace-offerings' in the English Bible, on the basis of Septuagint and Vulgate, is most felicitous; that of other versions, German and Dutch, is less faithful. These render 'thank-offerings', but the thank-offerings are only one species of the genus peace-offerings. The state of peace in its twosided significance is symbolized as a gift of Jehovah, for it is He, not the offerer, who prepares the meal. Hence the meal is to be held at the tabernacle, the house of God. We may compare the meal partaken of by 'the nobles of Israel' on the mount [Ex. 24:11] where also Jehovah is obviously the host. Paul in 1 Cor. 10, by implication calls the meal the table of Jehovah, for he compares the Lord's supper, where Christ is the host, and the pagan sacrificial meals, where the 'demons' give the feast at their table, with the practice of the ancient Israelites, who have 'communion with the altar'.
THE VARIETY OF OFFERINGS
The classification of animal sacrifices represents an ascending scale, beginning, as it were, with the worst point, religiously considered, in the state of the offerer, and ending with the acme of his religious blessedness. The distinction between the classes is not a distinction of exclusive expression of single points, but one of emphasis on particular points, which in the succeeding classes are not dismissed from view, but recapitulated, so that the final class contains the whole in proper arrangement of the several elements. In the sinoffering the idea of expiation stands in the foreground, but, after this has first been stressed, the consecration-idea receives attention likewise, through the burning upon the altar. The intent upon
working expiation before all else is seen in the elaborate manipulation of the blood, not present to that extent in the following classes. The animal in the sin-offering was invariably one, but the species and sex differed according to the persons involved and their rank in the congregation, not, however, as though the guilt of the sin were proportionate to the station of the sinner, but because the more highly-placed member of the theocracy involves more individuals in his sinning [Lev. 4:3].
The distinction between the sin-offering and the trespass-offering is difficult to define. Two features stand out in the latter: on the one hand, it is the only sacrifice of which an appraisal is made; on the other hand, it is the only one to which a sum of money must be added. The value-feature, therefore, is in evidence. This suggests the theory, that it forms the complement of the sin-offering in giving to God the positive thing withheld from Him through sin. Every sin offers to God what ought not to be offered, an offence, and at the same time it withholds from God what ought to have been given to Him, obedience. If the sin-offering rectifies the former, the trespassoffering would then make restitution for the latter. In its ritual procedure it closely resembles the sin-offering, as we might expect on this view. The trespass-offering derives a unique interest from the fact that it is the only class of sacrifice with which the sacrificial death of Christ is directly connected in the Old Testament. In Isa. 53:10, the self-surrender of the Servant of Jehovah is designated an 'asham, a trespass-offering, and this is quite in harmony with the idea, prevailing in the context, that the Servant not merely atones for the sins of the people, but gives to God what by their disobedience they have withheld.
Finally it will be noticed, that not every sin-offering had a trespassoffering joined to it, as the above theory might seem to imply. The trespass-offering was only required where an actual property-value had not been paid. The material substance in a limited sphere was thus made to symbolize the spiritual in the general sphere of sin.
In connection with the burnt-offering we notice the strong emphasis placed upon consecration, which found expression in the burning of the entire sacrifice upon the altar. With this agrees, that it is the one sacrifice perpetually kept burning. In fact from the latter feature one of its names, the tamid, is derived.
Of the peace-offering all that is essential has been said in discussing the Passover and the sacrificial meal. Three distinct classes of peaceofferings are named: the praiseor thank-offering, the votiveoffering, and the freewill-offering. The principle of division is not a strictly logical one, inasmuch as the first class is denominated from the purpose served, the second and the third are named from the subjective attitude of the offerer, which was either obligatory, as in the case of the votive-offering, or spontaneous, as in the case of the freewill-offering. An interesting fact to notice is that the Mosaic law makes no provision for prayer-offerings. Perhaps this was due to a fear of fostering the superstition that the offering could through its natural inherent power compel the bestowal of the blessing desired. As to the votive-offering the sacrifice seems not to have accompanied the making of the vow, but to have been the object promised in the vow, so that it becomes a special kind of thank-offering.
The vegetable offering was considered, like the animal sacrifice, as symbolically food for Jehovah. Hence it is not offered in an unprepared condition, but in the shape of roasted ears, or as fine wheaten flour, or as loaves or cakes prepared in the oven or in the pan. Every meal-offering must be attended with oil. A wine-offering forms its complement. Taking these ingredients together, some have thought to discover in the vegetable offering an exact copy of the animal sacrifice, the meal standing for the meat, the oil for the fat, the wine for the blood. On a line with this the Romish theologians found in the meal-offering a special type of the Lord's Supper. Both opinions are untenable. In the case of the substitution of a vegetable sin-offering, on account of extreme poverty, the law enjoins that no oil shall be put upon the flour. Had the fat been represented by the oil, then the latter could not have been lacking in the substitute-sin-
offering. There is, of course, a typical connection of these sacrifices with the Lord's supper, but this it has in common with all other parts of the system. It is true, the elements are vegetable in both, but they are so for a different reason in each case. In the Lord's supper they are so, because of the substitution of the unbloody for the bloody sacrament under the new dispensation. In the Old Testament vegetable offering the vegetable material was selected, in order to give expression to the idea of consecration in works. In the animal sacrifice too, as we have seen, there is consecration, but there, in harmony with the animal gift, it is a consecration of the entire life as a unit. Here, in the vegetable offering, it is a consecration of fruit, that is, of the diversified product of life. That part of the vegetable offering which is burnt upon the altar bears the name of azkarah, 'that which calls to remembrance'. Though sometimes in the law the term may be used in an unfavourable sense [Num. 5:26], in the vegetable offering it has favourable meaning. In the Greek it is rendered by mnemosynon. This relates to alms and prayers especially. Thus the angel says to Cornelius that his prayers and alms have gone up for a 'memorial' before God [Acts 10:4].
UNCLEANNESS AND PURIFICATION
The third main strand distinguishable in the ceremonial law is that relating to uncleanness and purification. Together with the indwelling of Jehovah in the theocracy, and the process of sacrifice, it forms a fundamental conception, which as such has entered into the permanent fabric of Biblical religion. At the outset we must guard against identifying the unclean and the forbidden. There are processes and acts absolutely unavoidable, which nevertheless render unclean. The law rather seems to have multiplied the occasions for contracting uncleanness, that thus it might increase the material on which to operate the distinction and teach its lesson. Further, we must avoid identifying cleanness with cleanliness, uncleanness with dirtiness. Sanitary significance the distinction does not have. It offers no excuse for identifying Christianity with hygiene. Positively, we may say that the conception has reference to the cult,
that is, to the ritual approach to Jehovah in the sanctuary. We must not view it from the standpoint of inherent content or quality. 'Clean' means qualified for the worship of Jehovah in the tabernacle, 'unclean' the opposite. The effect which these predicates produce is the thing stressed. If we say that the contrast is symbolical of ethical purity and impurity, it still will hold true that this symbolized contrast is not simply equivalent to goodness and badness as such, but to goodness and badness from the particular point of view that the one admits into, the other excludes from fellowship with God. This is one of the ideas in which the intimate connection between religion and ethics finds expression. From the Biblical standpoint ethical normalcy or abnormality should, before aught else, be appraised with the question in mind: What effect does the state, designated in ethical terms, have on one's intercourse with God?
There is a distinction between the antithesis 'clean' versus 'unclean' and that of 'holy' versus 'unholy'. And yet there is a close connection between the two pairs of opposites. Cleanness is the prerequisite of holiness. Nothing unclean can be holy, while it remains in that state. But, suppose it to be made clean, this would by no means ipso facto render it holy. Nor are things clean by nature necessarily holy. There exists a large territory between the unclean and the holy, full of things clean but not on that account holy. But from this territory things are taken and constituted holy by a positive act of God. The Hebrew vocabulary bears out the relation thus defined. It offers distinct terms for the two contrasts involved. The terms for 'holy' and 'unholy' are qadosh and chol, those for 'clean' and 'unclean' are tahor and tame.
Being thus related to the service of Jehovah, the distinction between cleanness and its opposite obtains for the life of every Israelite comprehensive significance, for in reality the Israelite exists for nothing else but the continual service of God. It creates a bisection of the entire congregation to apply to it this ritual test. The people at each moment divide themselves into two halves, one composed of the clean, the other of the unclean. This finds striking expression in
one of the formulas for designating the people comprehensively. The phrase 'atsur we'azubh means 'every Israelite'. It is rendered in the A.V. somewhat mysteriously by 'shut up or left', in the R.V. by 'shut up or left at large'. Its simple meaning is 'shut out from access to the sanctuary and left free to go' [Deut. 32:36; Jer. 36:5].
The objects and processes causing uncleanness are regulated by the law chiefly in Lev. 11 and Deut. 14. They belong to the following classes: certain sexual processes, death, leprosy, the eating of certain species of animals, or the touching of otherwise clean animals when these have not been slaughtered but have died of themselves. The distinction, as applied to these several classes of things, is evidently much older than the Mosaic law. The law does not profess to introduce the matter de novo; it simply regulated usages and observances of long standing. Many of these observances must have changed their character in the course of the ages, and the meaning attached to them, if such there were, must have changed likewise. Perhaps there is no sphere of conduct tending more strongly towards the petrification of once significant acts than this world of the clean and unclean.
From the original or subsequently acquired meanings we must, therefore, distinguish the lawgiver's motives in incorporating these practices into the legislation. First we devote some attention to the possible previous meanings attributed to them, either forgotten, or still remembered at the times of Moses. The subject occupies a very large place in recent study of primitive religion. Not a few writers bring it into connection with what they consider the origin of religion itself. Our remarks confine themselves to the field of Shemitic religion, and that with special reference to the Old Testament laws of uncleanness and purification.
TOTEMISM
A first theory on the basis of which, besides other things, the distinction between clean and unclean has been explained is that of
totemism. Totemism is a form of superstition in which savage tribes and families derive their origin from some animal or plant or some inanimate object, to all the specimens of which they pay religious reverence, after which they name themselves, and which they abstain from killing and eating. Various phenomena in Old Testament popular religion have been explained from it, and then appealed to as traces of its ancient existence among the Hebrews. It is not believed that within the period covered by the Old Testament tradition such things were practised, but survivals, no longer understood, are supposed to occur. As regard animals, the eating of which is forbidden in the law, the view is that these animals were originally sacred to the various totem-groups among the Hebrews. When several tribal groups united, and adopted the cult of Jehovah, the interdiction of eating them was continued, but the motive for the interdict was changed: they were forbidden as food because of their idolatrous character. On this theory the notions of uncleanness and holiness appear materially identical. What is holy in one cult is unclean in another, and it is unclean in the latter precisely because of its holiness in the former. The adherents of this view are wont to apply to these two ideas the common term 'taboo'. The two ideas have in common not merely the element of prohibition, but also that of contagiousness, and of necessary removal through lustration, holiness as much as unholiness.
Objections that may be urged against this theory in its Old Testament application are numerous. The lists of unclean animals in Lev. 11 and Deut. 14 are so long that all these animals could not any time have been totems within Israel's ken. The names of persons among Israel derived from animals form a small proportion of the names borne. Even in Arabia the majority of the tribes do not bear animal names: of the big tribes only a few; of closely related tribes the one will have an animal name, the other not. No plants were unclean to the Hebrews, yet totems were made of plants as well as of animals. The tribal names among Israel in which a reminiscence of totemism has been found are Leah, Rachel, and Simeon. The first two of these precisely name clean animals.
ANCESTOR-WORSHIP
A second, likewise partial, explanation of the phenomena of uncleanness is that from ancestor-worship. This is believed to lie at the basis of the uncleanness of the dead. Also the prohibition of certain mourning rites is attributed to worship of the dead, whereas others are supposed to have sprung from some other attitude towards the dead to be spoken of subsequently. On the principle that what is sacred in one cult becomes taboo in another, ancient worship of the dead, particularly of ancestors, is believed to account for the taboo of the dead in the cult of Jehovah.
Of the mourning customs that come under consideration here is the wearing of a 'sack', signifying primitively religious submission, therefore extended to the dead as gods. The veiling of the head and the covering of the beard spring from the same motive that leads a person obtaining sight of the deity to veil himself. The putting off of sandals was a common act in stepping on holy ground. Hence, if it occurs in connection with the dead or their graves, it must have been a religious act. The shaving of head or beard is of the nature of an hair-offering. Fasting plays a role in the worship of Jehovah, in mourning it likewise must have been a part of religion. Nakedness and self-mutilation appear elsewhere as religious rites; in mourning they cannot have any different meaning.
Here again the objections that arise are numerous. We mention the following only. There are many of these things, e.g. fasting, that are not forbidden in Israel. On the principle of their being descended from such a pronounced form of idolatry as worship of the dead they most certainly ought to have been. This applies to all practices for which analogy in the service of Jehovah is found. Further the uncleanness arises from the dead body, but the worship of ancestors or the dead in general was not rendered to the body. It addressed itself to the 'soul' or 'spirit' of the dead. We can verify this from other circles where worship of the dead existed. To the Greeks the dead body, in one period of their history at least, was unclean, and yet, in
spite of this belief, there was worship of the dead. That the cutting off of the hair was preparatory to an offering to the dead is not proven, since nothing is said anywhere of such hair being left at the grave or in any other way given to the dead. The putting off of sandals is not, strictly speaking, an act of worship. Nor can the blood made by incisions have been considered an offering to the dead. There is no evidence that this blood was brought in contact with the dead. A number of the customs mentioned are not interpretable as acts of worship. Nakedness, the rending of garments, the rolling on the ground are such. That the dust and ashes put upon the head were obtained from the grave or funeral pyre is not proven. But, even if they were, that would not render the custom an act of worship. There must be some other explanation of these things on the basis of superstitious idolatry in general.
Still further, the way in which the matter of mourning for relatives has been ordered for the priests forbids us to derive these mourning customs from ancestor-worship. The high-priest could not come near a dead body at all. But the ordinary priests were permitted to perform the mourning rites for their near relatives, not for remoter ones. Had a protest against ancestor-worship been involved, then the prohibition ought to have been most stringent with regard to near relatives, for these precisely would be likely to receive worship of this sort.
THE ANIMISTIC THEORY
Still a third theory offered in explanation of the facts of uncleanness is the animistic theory. This theory appears in two forms. Both have in common the assumption that to the primitive mind certain things appear as bearers of a sinister supernatural influence that is to be shunned. According to the one form of the theory these bearers are of a personal, demonic kind. According to the other the danger resides in impersonal soul-matter, diffusing itself and attaching itself in certain preferred ways, and in reality as dangerous as the influence of a personal demon. The nature of the first form of the
theory brings with it that the forms of uncleanness are, especially the mourning-practices, but so many self-disguising attempts to escape the notice of these demonic powers. To say that it renders unclean to do this or touch that, only means that danger lurks in the vicinity where uncleanness is held to be contracted. It is an indirect discipline, administered as to children for teaching them to avoid danger by dissemblance in their appearance. The other form of the theory finds in these practices likewise a sort of self-defence, not by means of camouflage, but rather by prophylaxis.
The personal form of the theory attaches itself chiefly to the uncleanness of death and to the mourning customs. The dead body should be held unclean, because the soul hovers around it for some time in not altogether too pleasant a spirit. It is jealous of the relatives, who have entered upon possession of its estate, a feeling extending even to the personal relict of a man, his widow, who therefore, was cautioned not to remarry for a considerable period.
While this theory in the first form may give a fairly plausible explanation of some of the facts, it by no means explains all. There are some mourning customs that cannot have sprung from the desire of self-protection through disguise. Fasting scarcely can have aimed at that, a mistaken exegesis of Matt. 6:16 notwithstanding. The most various explanations of fasting as a religious practice have been presented, none of them so far satisfactory in every respect. Some say it springs from regarding the food in a place where some one has died as unclean. Others say, the fasting person considers himself unclean, and does not want to defile the food. According to still others, it is originally the preparation for a sacrificial meal, on the principle that no other food should come in contact with the holy food. Others again see in it an effort to induce ecstatic conditions. Still others consider it a species of ascetic practice. All this shows how precarious it is to maintain that it must have meant a form of self-disguise.
Nor can the sounds made by the mourners very well be accounted for on such a principle. A person's voice, when crying or wailing or shouting, may not be as easily recognizable as ordinary speech, but silence would have rendered it far more unrecognizable still. The rending of garments does not hinder identification very much. Nor does walking on bare feet. Nor do incisions made on the body. Nor does the beating of face, breasts or hips. Nor does the putting of dust and ashes on the head. Perhaps the treatment of hair on head or beard most easily lends itself to this explanation from disguise. But in that case the mourning women ought to have treated the hair differently from the mourning men, as was actually the custom elsewhere.
Apart from these individual points of criticism, the theory labours under one general difficulty. How could the spirit of the dead supposedly be ignorant of the simple fact that the people in the immediate surroundings were relatives? If it wanted to injure relatives, the mourning observances would have been the simplest and surest way of informing it where to strike. Personal identification was unnecessary. People could hardly fail to credit the dead with so much knowledge as to be aware of this, the less so, since the dead were known to have been mourners themselves during life on frequent occasions. And why should the dead be jealous of the survivors for entering upon possession of what they had left behind? As a rule among primitive people no such extreme individualism in the matter of property-relations exists. The average man, primitive or civilized, is not jealous of his heirs, but glad to have heirs. Besides, the theory implies that mourning customs are more recent in their origin than the existence of private property. This would be hard to prove. The same mourning practices are found among most nomadic as among settled agricultural tribes.
The impersonal form of the animistic theory holds that the ascription of uncleanness to things and places is a means to bar soul-matter out. When separated from one body this substance seeks to slip into or attach itself to another. Every avenue of entrance is carefully
closed up. The openings of the body are covered up, or made inaccessible. Fasting precludes the hostile fluid from slipping in with the food. The first food eaten after the fasting was not derived from the house of the dead. It was supposed that the soul-matter disliked attaching itself to anything torn or burst. The bystander rent his garment at the very first moment after death had taken place. The simplest, shortest, straightest garment was put on; all folds and creases were avoided; shoes were discarded, so as to leave nothing for the soul to nestle in. The hair was cut off the head with the same fear in mind. The nails were pared. Incisions were made in the body, that the blood might freely flow out. Attention is called to the distinction the law makes between covered and uncovered vessels. The uncovered vessel becomes unclean, the covered one escapes the contagion [Num. 19:15].
It must be admitted that this form of the theory on the whole succeeds better in explaining things than the preceding one. Many of these primitive practices really look like means of seclusion and fortification against an invading spirit-power. This principle admits of application at several points where that of concealment breaks down. Even so, however, many things remain unaccounted for. The rending of garments, one would think, rendered ingress all the easier. To say, that the soul-matter does not like a broken or torn thing, may be true, but this itself requires an explanation which is not given. Entire nakedness also would have been felt as giving the spirit free play upon the body. The taking off of the sandals would be dangerous for the same reason. The rolling on the ground, as well as the putting of dust and ashes on the head, would have been an unsafe act. The self-mutilations, by opening up the body, made only new avenues of ingress.
The theory is distinctly weaker than the other form, when it comes to explain the greater exposure of relatives to attack. If it is a question of personal jealousy, there is at least some apparent reason for this. If, on the other hand, it is a question of soul-matter seeking some lodgement, then it is difficult to see, why precisely relatives should
have felt themselves in danger above others. The range of uncleanness is wider than the mourning circle. Why do the relatives in particular mourn? If the soul-matter, being unintelligent, has no personal feelings about it, if it only seeks some hole or crevice to slip into, then, when a taboo is erected against this through the assumption of uncleanness, and this is further strengthened through the observance of mourning, it becomes difficult to explain why only the relatives engage in the latter. It might be said that the relatives are nearer to the body, therefore subject to greater exposure, whereas the others can simply keep away. But if so, then the rule ought to have been that, not blood-propinquity, but local propinquity, was the decisive consideration. All who came near the dead ought to have mourned.
Besides these three theories, which endeavour to account for groups of phenomena comprehensively, there are attempts to account for single facts. Altogether apart from totemism, certain unclean animals may have derived their taboo from their figuring as sacred animals in some idolatrous cult. This may apply to single cases, although to the entire collection of unclean animals it is not applicable. Many of the unclean animals belong to the smallest species, and certainly never were cult-objects. With bigger animals, such as swine, it is different. Isa. 65:4ff. speaks of a cult, which included the eating of pork. In the circle there referred to, undoubtedly pork was regarded, not as unclean, but as holy. Some similar practice of more ancient date may have occasioned the regulation of the law, that swine shall be unclean animals to the servants of Jehovah. The interdict on unclean animals is in Lev. 20:22ff. significantly brought into connection with the difference between the Israelites and the Canaanites. This indicates that the latter did not treat the animals tabooed in Israel as unclean. On the contrary these very animals must have played a rather prominent role in their religion. It further suggests that on that very account they were debarred from the ritual of the true religion.
The uncleanness of leprosy occupies a place by itself. This cannot be explained from sanitary motives. True, although modern medical
science teaches leprosy to be only slightly contagious, the ancient people might have thought differently about it. But a serious objection is, that other equally serious, and obviously contagious diseases did not render a person unclean, notably the pestilence. It has been suggested that leprosy was ascribed to a special stroke from Jehovah or some evil spirit, and that even the name of the disease bears witness to this; tsara'ath and nega', the two names for leprosy, both come from roots meaning 'to strike'. But according to others these terms have no religious significance, being taken from the spots and swellings characteristic of the disease. If the idea of a demonic or divine stroke came into play, we should expect that the same instinct would have expressed itself in regard to insanity and epilepsy. Yet these do not render unclean. Possibly leprosy may have been associated with uncleanness, because of its being, as it were, a living death. In that case the uncleanness of the leprosy would have to be classified with that of death. The words used about the leprosy of Miriam [Num. 12:12] suggest something like this.
But why does death with all that accompanies it render unclean? On the principle that both birth and death cause uncleanness, it has been plausibly suggested that through the uncleanness of these two termini of life the entire natural life as such is declared unclean. The objection has been raised, that on this view of the matter, the law should not have declared giving birth, but being born, as bringing with it uncleanness. It does only the former. The mother is unclean, we are told, not the child. The objection has not much weight. We may observe that the child is actually unclean. This, however, having received a most pointed expression through circumcision, there was no need of stating it separately, and by attaching the uncleanness to the mother the additional truth was taught of the uncleanness not merely of life in its entire course, but in its very source.
While the points of view indicated may contain elements of truth, they do not profess to give a satisfactory solution of the whole problem Some older explanations, frequently discarded by modern writers with amusement and contempt, are not so summarily to be
dismissed as is done by them. Certain animals, like snakes and birds of prey, awaken a natural aversion in the human mind at primitive stages, and this may have had something to do with the shaping of the law.
Far more important than these insoluble problems and their tentative solutions is the consideration of the manner in which the law makes these strange things subserve its purpose of revealing the true religion of the Old Testament. The first thing the law does is to give the whole distinction a religious aspect, no matter whether this inhered in it from the beginning or not. When the law undertakes to regulate a thing, it obtains from that very fact religious significance. The principle is explicitly affirmed. The matter is brought into relation with the holiness of God [Lev. 11:44, 45; Deut. 14:21]. Hence also the process of cleansing is called a 'sanctifying'. The unclean are debarred from the sanctuary and from the feasts. From the tithes nothing can be taken for the dead, nor eaten in mourning [Lev. 22:4; Num. 9:6; 19:12, 20; Deut. 26:14]. The removal of uncleanness is in part accomplished by ritual 'covering' [Lev. 12:7, 8; 14 (passim); 16:29, 30; 15:14, 15; Num. 8:5ff.]. The role played by the number seven in the periods of purification is evidence of the religious character of the latter. The stringency of the regulations with reference to the priests proves that a religious motive was the determining one [Lev. 21:1ff., 22:2, 3].
The uncleanness, thus related to the service of Jehovah, is associated with ethical sin. This is done in two ways. On the one hand the ritual uncleanness is treated as sin. On the other hand the ethical abnormality is made to borrow its vocabulary from the ritual law. We do not always clearly appreciate the latter. When sin of a distinctly ethical kind is called 'impurity', we are apt to think this a selfexplanatory metaphor. In reality it is a direct borrowing of ritual language. God teaches people to feel about sin as they are accustomed to feel about an ignominious and uncomfortable exclusion from the ritual service. Thus circumcision is made a lever of ethicizing and spiritualizing in Deut. 10:16. This incipient
spiritualizing of the ritual vocabulary is further carried out by the Prophets and Psalmists. Isaiah speaks of 'unclean' lips in an ethical sense [6:5]. The earth is 'defiled' by transgression of the fundamental laws of God [Isa. 24:5]; blood (i.e. murder) 'defiles' the hands [Isa. 1:15; 59:3]; the temple is 'defiled' by idolatry [Jer. 32:34; Ezek. 5:11; 28:18]; the people pollute themselves by their sins [Ezek. 20:7, 8, 43; 22:3; 39:24]. Ethical purity is symbolized by 'clean hands' and 'a pure heart' [Psa. 24:4]. The ethical cleansing is described in terms of ritual purification [Psa. 51:7; Ezek. 36:25; Zech. 13:1].
The Old Testament
PART TWO
THE PROPHETIC EPOCH OF
REVELATION
ONE:
THE PLACE OF PROPHETISM IN OLD
TESTAMENT REVELATION
Next to Mosaism, Prophetism marks an epochal onward movement in Old Testament revelation. In order to understand why this should be so, we must call to mind how the process of revelation is articulated. Revelation follows events. But not all happenings in the history of Israel, even though apparently momentous, give rise to a large influx of new revelation. What is necessary for this is, that the new happenings shall leave something new, that is of lasting significance, behind. When the acts of the exodus lead to the setting
up of the theocratic organization, a large volume of revelation follows in their wake. We must, therefore, ask, what was the great event in Sacred History, that could call forth such a new body of revelation of the most far-reaching importance.
This event can be nothing else but the new organization of the theocratic kingdom under a human ruler. In the days of Samuel this movement began; it found provisional embodiment in the rule of Saul, but was not consolidated on a firm basis until the accession of David. Henceforth the idea of this kingdom remains central in the hopes of Israel. This human kingdom, however, is only a representation of the kingdom of Jehovah Himself. At first, when the people asked for a king, Jehovah disapproved of the un-theocratic spirit in which the request was made, and declared it tantamount to rejection of Himself. Nevertheless the desire was granted, obviously in order that through the wrong conduct of the office by Saul, its true conception might be the more clearly taught.
This was also the reason why for such a long time during the period of Joshua and the Judges the institution of the kingdom was kept in abeyance. Only after in this twofold manner—first by withholding a king, and next by allowing a wrong sort of king—the ideal of the king after the heart of Jehovah had been carefully inculcated, did the actual permanent thing arrive. The kingdom is in its intent an instrument of redemption as well as the embodiment of the blessedness of Israel. To it the Messianic expectations attach themselves. It is a serious mistake to conceive of the kingdom as something accidentally arrived at, and merely tolerated for a time at the expense of democracy. The thing was too large and deep to have aught of the unessential and dispensable about it. It touches, through the kingship of Christ, the very acme and perfection of the Biblical religion.
A KINGDOM-PRODUCING MOVEMENT
To this kingdom-producing movement the rise and development of prophetism attach themselves. The prophets were guardians of the unfolding theocracy, and the guardianship was exercised at its centre, the kingdom. The purpose was to keep it a true representation of the kingdom of Jehovah. It sometimes almost appears as if the prophets were sent to the kings instead of to the people. From this interlinking of the prophetic office with the national interests of Israel, summed up in the kingdom, we can best explain the peculiar circumstances under which prophecy arose at the time of Samuel, in a deep patriotic movement, with a large admixture of national aspirations, shaping itself collectively at the first as well as individually. The bands or so-called 'schools' of the prophets were centres of religious and patriotic life in one; but, in harmony with the purpose of Israel's existence, the religious dominated the patriotic, not the reverse. The case of Deborah in the period of the Judges furnishes an earlier example.
It is a mistake, however, to infer from this national function, that the prophetic office was a sort of diplomatic, political office. This has been done by Winkler, who appeals wrongly in support of it to the enumeration of offices in Isa. 3:2. As developed by him, the view in question would throw a rather unpleasant light upon the prophetic activity during the later critical days of the kingdom. He believes that the great Oriental powers availed themselves of the prophets as agents to further their own interests among the smaller kingdoms. Hence the phenomenon that so often the counsel given by the prophets in political complications coincided with the plans pursued by these powers. Elisha is assumed to have received his instructions from Damascus, Isaiah from Nineveh, Jeremiah from Babylon.
But there is no evidence that such relations of a diplomatic or semidiplomatic kind were ever cultivated by the prophets. What we find is rather an aversion to all political entanglements and alliances. But this is not based on superior political insight on the part of the prophets. It simply results from their staunch maintenance of the theocratic principle, that Jehovah is King, and Israel bound to rely
exclusively on Him [Isa. 7; 30:1–5; Hos. 7:11; 12:1]. Already in the times of David and Solomon such prophets as Nathan and Gad worked largely through the kingship. By Elijah and Elisha afterwards the same method was pursued. That whatever there seemed to be of political interposition was not at bottom political, but religious, appears from the fact that its procedure is open. There is no secret understanding, no conspiracy about it. Politics as such is unable to dispense with the element of secret procedure. It must be admitted, however, that there is some difference in this respect between Elijah and Elisha. The latter did enter into a conspiracy against the dynasty of the house of Omri. But even what Elisha aimed at was not improvement of the political situation. The end in view was to eradicate the cult of Baal by fire and sword through the supplanting of the Omrites by the house of Jehu. One need only compare the conduct of the prophets of Israel with that of the seer Balaam in the Mosaic period, to acquit the former of all charges of diplomatic intrigue. Balaam let himself be hired by a king, something no prophet of Israel could ever have contemplated.
THE WORD AS THE INSTRUMENT OF PROPHETISM
Prophetism, in restricting itself to the word as its instrument, while seemingly limited as to efficacy in this respect, in reality did more than anything else towards the spiritualizing of the relation between Jehovah and Israel. The prophets did not create facts, they upheld principles; and whatever future facts they spoke of were placed by them in the pure ideal light of prediction. Through prophecy Biblical religion has first come to be, to the extent it is, the religion of truth, of faith, of Scripture. In this respect the prophets were the precursors of Protestantism, at least from a formal point of view. More than ever before, the religious consciousness of Israel felt itself bound up with the cardinal fact of revelation. Jehovah's approach to Israel is eminently the approach of speech; God gives Himself in the word of His mouth.
The word, while being primarily intended for an official purpose, secondarily also becomes a means of grace for the prophet himself. The intimacy of the intercourse which the prophet needed and enjoyed in virtue of his task, could not fail at the same time to minister to his own religious growth. Still, the stressing of this feature can be overdone. It is suspicious, when joined to a neglect or implicit disavowal of the revelation-significance of the prophet. Religious heroism is not what Scripture puts foremost among the phenomena of prophecy. And where a high degree of religiousness is shown, we are distinctly given to understand that it was the result of the privileges of the office, rather than the prerequisite of investment with the office. The prophets were not primarily chosen because of their signal piety. They became pious above the average as a result of the exercise of their God-ward function.
A FACTOR OF CONTINUITY
Prophecy is a factor of continuity in the history of revelation, both through its retrospective and through its prospective attitude. Its preaching of repentance, and of the sin of apostasy from the norms of the past, links it to the preceding work of Jehovah for Israel in the patriarchal and Mosaic periods. Through its predictive elements it anticipates the continuity with the future. Although the name 'prophet' may not mean 'foreteller', none the less foretelling is an essential part in the prophet's task. The prophets themselves emphasize this so much that one cannot consider it to be incidental [Amos 3:7]. The initiation into the secret of the coming things forms part of that religious intimacy into which the prophet has been received with Jehovah. But objectively also the prophet could not be a true revealer if the substratum of facts, which all revelation requires, were absent from his consciousness. And this substratum is given partly in the future facts.
Modern interpreters but too frequently make the prophet stand as a disinterested 'teacher' historically, forgetful of all things except his own present lesson. This is a distortion of his figure. Teachers in this
sense the prophets never were and 'schools' they never kept. The error in question frequently springs from a failure to observe how closely the doctrinal principles of the prophet's preaching shape his forecast of the future. Mere arbitrary exhibitions of pretended foresight the predictions never were. They cannot be removed from the preaching without disarranging and deforming the latter. And here again the personal equation must be taken into account. The prophets felt to a large extent that they were living in times out of joint, and among a people out of sympathy with what was most precious to themselves. Their instinctive desire would be to seek compensation in the future for what the present denied them. A warmth of emotionally-coloured interest not seldom suffuses their predictions. And there is also perceptible a desire for contemplating in advance the vindication of the truth, assailed and scorned in the present. Religious decadence and degeneracy have always stimulated occupation with the future. Eschatological interest is sometimes a species of comfort to the pious soul. For all these reasons it is a cheap modernizing tendency to belittle the predictive element in prophecy.
TWO MAIN PERIODS OF PROPHETISM
The principle of continuity within the plan of revelation in its double form of linking on to the past and reaching out into the future, can be distributed over the two main periods in which the history of prophetism divides itself. The former of these periods extends from the great prophetic revival in the time of Samuel to the date of the first writing-prophets about the middle of the eighth century B.C. The second extends from there onwards until the close of Old Testament prophecy. The difference between these two periods is that in the earlier one the possibility of repentance and conversion, in response to the prophetic preaching, is still reckoned with. The prophets speak out of the consciousness of being reorganizers, reconstructionists. That something better will come and must come they know, but they are not aware as yet of the extent to which, when come, it will swallow up the past.
In the second period, although the call to repentance never ceases, yet it acquires a more or less perfunctory tone. The prophet now knows that, not repair, but regeneration of the present lies in the womb of the future. But the main thing to be observed is that this rebirth is not equivalent to a new setting up of the past, not even in an idealized form. Occasion is taken from the prediction of overthrow to introduce into the picture all the absolute values of eschatology. As the divine method in general is not to bring out of the chaos and dissolution of sin the return simply of the former state of affairs but the attainment of a higher order of things, so the same rule on a smaller scale is illustrated here in the history of Israel. God made use of the impending destruction of the Mosaic theocracy to create room for something far transcending the original structure.
The arrival of this new phase of prophecy coincides with a series of new, momentous developments on the scene of history. The first phase opened with the record-breaking events of the age from Samuel to David. The second opens with the appearance upon the horizon of the great, humanly-speaking irresistible, Eastern power which God had chosen to be the instrument of His judgment. How important was the change thus brought about in the outlook of prophecy may be seen from this, that it has left its impress even upon the outward form of communicating the message. From the middle of the eighth century onwards the prophets begin to be writing prophets. Amos, Hosea, and, somewhat later, Isaiah and Micah for the first time committed the prophetic word to writing. The word of the earlier prophets, though a truly divine word, had been largely a transient word, intended for their own day and generation. But from this second crisis onward the word ever increasingly obtained reference to the new creation of the future, and consequently dealt with things in which future generations would have a share and supreme interest. And even their own contemporaries, who refused the prophets a hearing, were through the witness of the written word to be convicted of the truth spoken of them. In these ideas the prophets begin to grasp more clearly than had been done before the
principle of the continuity, that is, of a history of redemption and revelation.
The true principle of history writing, that which makes history more than a chronicling of events, because it discovers a plan and posits a goal, was thus grasped, not first by the Greek historians, but by the prophets of Israel. Hence we find also that the activity among these circles includes sacred historiography, the production of books like the Books of Samuel and Kings in which the course of events is placed in the light of an unfolding divine plan. Good meaning can thus be found in the ancient canonical custom of calling these historical writings 'the earlier prophets'.
TWO:
THE CONCEPTION OF A PROPHET:
NAMES AND ETYMOLOGIES
THE HEBREW TERM 'NABHI' '
The Hebrew word for prophet is nabhi'. It is doubtful whether the etymology can render us much assistance towards determining the fundamental conception of the office. Various proposals have been made by exegetes. We mention the following:
(a) Connection is sought with a root-group in which the first two radicals are nun and beth. The meaning fixed upon is 'to spring', 'to gush forth', or passively 'to be sputtered, bubbled or gushed against'. The nabhi' then might be 'the one gushed upon by the Spirit' (so Keil). Kuenen seeks to give an active turn to the idea. He thinks the nabhi' may have been so called because he was rushing and gushing
in his gestures and speech. The passive view is excluded by the intransitive meaning of these verbs, which are not capable of a direct object. Nor does the active sense particularly suit the purpose to which Kuenen would put it. He seeks in it support for considering the earliest prophets a sort of raving men, dervish-like in their behaviour. 'To gush' is scarcely strong enough for that. At the utmost the copious flow of speech could perhaps be referred to, but on this there is no clear reflection anywhere. 'To drop', as a synonym for prophesying, seems rather to describe the constant iteration of the message [Ezek. 20:46; 21:2], but even this is not certain.
(b) Recourse is had to the Arabic. In it naba'a means 'to announce'. But the ideas of 'bubbling' and 'sprouting' are also represented in this root-circle, so that adherents of view (a) may find additional support here. A difficulty arising in connection with 'to announce' is that nabhi' is restricted to the announcer for the Deity, whilst the verb, in order to give us help, would have to signify 'to announce' in general. The suspicion arises that perhaps the verb is derived from nabhi' in its technical religious sense, which latter then might very well have had another etymology. Nor is it impossible that the word entered into the Arabic from the Hebrew.
(c) Derivation from the Assyrian has been advocated. Nabu here signified 'to call', 'to proclaim', 'to announce'. The element of authority seems to be regularly associated with the word. The ideas of 'gushing', 'springing' are likewise represented in the root: manbau is 'a fountain', nibhu, 'a sprout'. The concurrence of the Hebrew, Arabic and Assyrian in expressing this idea in the same root to which nabhi' belongs is certainly remarkable, but we are not able to point out the transition from this root-concept to the specific meaning of nabhi' 'prophet'.
(d) A special derivation from the Assyrian is that attaching itself to the name of the god Nebo. Some think that Nebo bears his name as speaker and herald for the gods, but this is not proven. He does appear as the god of wisdom, inventor of the art of writing, carrier of
the tablets of destiny. Sayce says: he was interpreter of the will of Bel-Merodach; he reads the oracles and interprets dreams. He might, however, carry all these predicates, and yet there might be no etymological connection with his name.
(e) Hupfeld proposes to identify the roots naba'a and na'am, from which latter comes the well-known phrase ne'um Jahveh, 'oracle of Jehovah'. The identification of the two roots is precarious, because it involves both interchange of mem and beth, and exchange of place between these two radicals. On Hupfeld's view nabhi' would mean 'oracler'.
(f) Certain Jewish scholars, and more recently Land, bring nabhi' into connection with the verb bo', 'to enter in'. It is taken by them as the Niphal participle of this verb, 'one entered in', that is, by the Deity. But on this view the most important part of the conception would have remained unexpressed or been lost sight of through long usage. 'Nabhi' of the Deity' or 'nabhi' of the Spirit' nowhere occurs.
In view of this uncertainty of the several derivations it is exceedingly fortunate that from a few Old Testament passages we can gather with certainty the meaning attached to the word by Scripture in the sphere of revelation. These passages are: Ex. 4:16; 7:1; Jer. 1:5, 6. From these we learn that nabhi' was understood as an appointed regular speaker for a divine superior, whose speech carries the authority of the latter. In the first-named passage, it is true, the term nabhi' is not used explicitly. None the less a definite view of what a prophet ought to be with reference to God underlies it. Aaron will serve Moses as a mouth, and Moses will be to Aaron as a god. It is not a question of the relation between some sender and his ambassador in general, but a question of an ambassador of God. Aaron shall be the substitute-mouth for the Moses-god. It is only because Moses, so to speak, occupies the place of God, that Aaron can be spokesman in this absolute sense. And within the terms of the figure the infallibility of the result is safeguarded, for Jehovah says: 'I will be with thy mouth and with his mouth.' The second passage is
still more convincing. Moses is made a god to Pharaoh and Aaron is to act as Moses' nabhi'. Aaron can be nabhi' only because a god stands back of him. The same, without figurativeness, follows from the relation between Jehovah and Jeremiah defined in the third passage. God says, He has ordained Jeremiah a prophet. Jeremiah answers: I am a child; I cannot speak. Then Jehovah declares that He has put His words in Jeremiah's mouth by touching it with His hand. Thereupon the words become divinely-powerful: Jeremiah stands over the nations, to root out and to pull down, to build and to plant.
It will be noticed that in all three passages it is a question of speaking. This alone introduces into the second the figure of the nabhi'. The disqualification pleaded is in each case an inability to speak. The prophet's business lies in the sphere of speaking. And this speaking is not ordinary speaking, as in ordinary life one man might speak representatively for another. It is a unique representation conveying divine authority and, in a measure, divine omnipotence, and these are based on divine communication. Jehovah touches the mouth and puts the words there, and they acquire the effect of divine words.
The point is thus clearly established, that even to the pre-Mosaic Hebrew consciousness a nabhi' is an authorized spokesman for the Deity, and that in his word a divinely-communicated power resides. Jehovah does not endeavour to teach Moses what a prophet is. He takes for granted that Moses knows this, and on that supposition constructs the analogy, wherein Moses figures as a god and Aaron as a prophet. Whatever the etymology of the name in its origin, to the Old Testament mind the prophet stood from beginning to end as the authoritative speaker for Jehovah. What the implications of this general conclusion are, we shall investigate presently, when dealing with the mode of prophetic revelation. But the general conclusion in itself is of the highest importance. It marks the religion of the Old Testament as a religion of conscious intercourse between Jehovah and Israel, a religion of revelation, of authority, a religion in which
God dominates, and in which man is put into the listening, submissive attitude.
Within the process of carrying the divine message nabhi' names the active factor. The nabhi' is one who does something; he speaks. True, in order to be able to do this, he must have been first passive; he must have received or experienced something. But that the name does not express; it only presupposes it. In fact the receiving of a divine message does not necessarily imply that it must be communicated. It can be for the recipient himself, or intended to be kept unspoken. Only when with the message there goes, explicitly or implicitly, the charge to transmit it, is there a case of prophecy. The prophet is a speaker to others. In other names the reverse, passive side of the process, the receiving of the message may stand in the foreground. In 'prophet' it does not. And nabhi' has become the prevailing name. Not the mysteries of the background, but the issue in the open, where it reaches the mind of man, is the main consideration. The term is practical through and through, and so is the religion of the Old Testament which it so largely colours.