THE SONG OF MOSES.
Exo 15:1-22.
During this halt they prepared that great song of triumph which
St. John heard sung by them who had been victorious over the beast,
standing by the sea of glass, having the harps of God. For by that
calmer sea, triumphant over a deadlier persecution, they still found
their adoration and joy expressed in this earliest chant of sacred
victory. Because all holy hearts give like thanks to Him Who sitteth
upon the throne, therefore "deep answers unto deep," and every great
crisis in the history of the Church has legacies for all time and
for eternity; and therefore the triumphant song of Moses the servant
of God enriches the worship of heaven, as the penitence and hope and
joy of David enrich the worship of the Church on earth (Rev 15:3).
Like all great poetry, this song is best enjoyed when it is
neither commented upon nor paraphrased, but carefully read and
warmly felt. There are circumstances and lines of thought which it
is desirable to point out, but only as a preparation, not a
substitute, for the submission of a docile mind to the influence of
the inspired poem itself. It is unquestionably archaic. The
parallelism of Hebrew verse is already here, but the structure is
more free and unartificial than that of later poetry; and many
ancient words, and words of Egyptian derivation, authenticate its
origin. So does the description of Miriam, in the fifteenth verse,
as "the prophetess, the sister of Aaron." In what later time would
she not rather have been called the sister of Moses? But from the
lonely youth who found Aaron and Miriam together as often as he
stole from the palace to his real home--the lonely man who regained
both together when he returned from forty years of exile, and who
sometimes found them united in opposition to his authority (Num
12:1-2)--from Moses alone the epithet is entirely natural.
It is also noteworthy that Philistia is mentioned first among the
foes who shall be terrified (Exo 15:14, R.V.), because Moses still
expected the invasion to break first on them. But the unbelieving
fears of Israel changed the route, so that no later poet would have
set them in the forefront of his song. Thus also the terror of the
Edomites is anticipated, although in fact they sturdily refused a
passage to Israel through their land (Num 20:20). All this
authenticates the song, which thereupon establishes the miraculous
deliverance that inspired it.
The song is divided into two parts. Up to the end of the twelfth
verse it is historical: the remainder expresses the high hopes
inspired by this great experience. Nothing now seems impossible: the
fiercest tribes of Palestine and the desert may be despised, for
their own terror will suffice to "melt" them; and Israel may already
reckon itself to be guided into the holy habitation (Exo 15:13).
The former part is again subdivided, by a noble and instinctive
art, into two very unequal sections. With amplitude of triumphant
adoration, the first ten verses tell the same story which the
eleventh and twelfth compress into epigrammatical vigour and
terseness. To appreciate the power of the composition, one should
read the fourth, fifth, and sixth verses, and turn immediately to
the twelfth.
Each of these three divisions closes in praise, and as in the
"Israel in Egypt," it was probably at these points that the voices
of Miriam and the women broke in, repeating the first verse of the
ode as a refrain (Exo 15:1 and Exo 15:21). It is the earliest
recognition of the place of women in public worship. And it leads us
to remark that the whole service was responsive. Moses and the men
are answered by Miriam and the women, bearing timbrels in their
hands; for although instrumental music had been sorely misused in
Egypt, that was no reason why it should be excluded now. Those who
condemn the use of instruments in Christian worship virtually
contend that Jesus has, in this respect, narrowed the liberty of the
Church, and that a potent method of expression, known to man, must
not be consecrated to the honour of God. And they make the present
time unlike the past, and also unlike what is revealed of the future
state.
Moreover there was movement, as in very many ancient religious
services, within and without the pale of revelation.[28]
Such dances were generally slow and graceful; yet the motion and the
clang of metal, and the vast multitudes congregated, must be taken
into account, if we would realise the strange enthusiasm of the
emancipated host, looking over the blue sea to Egypt, defeated and
twice bereaved, and forward to the desert wilds of freedom.
The poem is steeped in a sense of gratitude. In the great
deliverance man has borne no part. It is Jehovah Who has triumphed
gloriously, and cast the horse and charioteer--there was no
"rider"--into the sea. And this is repeated again and again by the
women as their response, in the deepening passion of the ode. "With
the breath of His nostrils the waters were piled up.... He blew with
His wind and the sea covered them." And such is indeed the only
possible explanation of the Exodus, so that whoever rejects the
miracle is beset with countless difficulties. One of these is the
fact that Moses, their immortal leader, has no martial renown
whatever. Hebrew poetry is well able to combine gratitude to God
with honour to the men of Zebulun who jeopardised their lives unto
the death, to Jael who put her hand to the nail, to Saul and
Jonathan who were swifter than eagles and stronger than lions.
Joshua and David can win fame without dishonour to God. Why is it
that here alone no mention is made of human agency, except that, in
fact, at the outset of their national existence, they were shown,
once for all, the direct interposition of their God?
From gratitude springs trust: the great lesson is learned that
man has an interest in the Divine power. "My strength and song is
Jah," says the second verse, using that abbreviated form of the
covenant name Jehovah, which David also frequently associated with
his victories. "And He is become my salvation." It is the same word
as when, a little while ago, the trembling people were bidden to
stand still and see the salvation of God. They have seen it now. Now
they give the word Salvation for the first time to the Lord as an
appellation, and as such it is destined to endure. The Psalmist
learns to call Him so, not only when he reproduces this verse word
for word (Psa 118:14), but also when he says, "He only is my rock
and my salvation" (Psa 62:2), and prays, "Before Ephraim, Benjamin,
and Manasseh, come for salvation to us" (Psa 80:2).
And the same title is known also to Isaiah, who says, "Behold God
is my salvation," and "Be Thou their arm every morning, our
salvation also in the time of trouble" (Isa 12:2, Isa 33:2).
The progress is natural from experience of goodness to
appropriation: He has helped me: He gives Himself to me; and from
that again to love and trust, for He has always been the same: "my
father," not my ancestors in general, but he whom I knew best and
remember most tenderly, found Him the same Helper. And then love
prompts to some return. My goodness extendeth not to Him, yet my
voice can honour Him; I will praise Him, I will exalt His name. Now,
this is the very spirit of evangelical obedience, the life-blood of
the new dispensation racing in the veins of the old.
Where praise and exaltation are a spontaneous instinct, there is
loyal service and every good work, not rendered by a hireling but a
child. Had He not said, "Israel is My son"?
From exultant gratitude and trust, what is next to spring? That
which is reproachfully called anthropomorphism, something which
indeed easily degenerates into unworthy notions of a God limited by
such restraints or warped by such passions as our own, yet which is
after all a great advance towards true and holy thoughts of Him Who
made man after His image and in His likeness.
Human affection cannot go forth to God without believing that
like affection meets and responds to it. If He is indeed the best
and purest, we must think of Him as sharing all that is best and
purest in our souls, all that we owe to His inspiring Spirit.
"So through the thunder comes a human voice, Saying 'O heart I
made, a heart beats here.'"
If ever any religion was sternly jealous of the Divine
prerogatives, profoundly conscious of the incommunicable dignity of
the Lord our God Who is one Lord, it was the Jewish religion. Yet
when Jesus was charged with making Himself God, He could appeal to
the doctrine of their own Scripture--that the judges of the people
exercised so divine a function, and could claim such divine support,
that God Himself spoke through them, and found representatives in
them. "Is it not written in your law, I said Ye are gods?" (Joh
10:34). Not in vain did He appeal to such scriptures--and there are
many such--to vindicate His doctrine. For man is never lifted above
himself, but God in the same degree stoops towards us, and
identifies Himself with us and our concerns. Who then shall limit
His condescension? What ground in reason or revelation can be taken
up for denying that it may be perfect, that it may develop into a
permanent union of God with the creature whom He inspired with His
own breath? It is by such steps that the Old Testament prepared
Israel for the Incarnation. Since the Incarnation we have actually
needed help from the other side, to prevent us from humanising our
conceptions over-much. And this has been provided in the
ever-expanding views of His creation given to us by science, which
tell us that if He draws nigh to us it is from heights formerly
undreamed of. Now, such a step as we have been considering is taken
unawares in the bold phrase "Jehovah is a man of war." For in the
original, as in the English, this includes the assertion "Jehovah is
a man." Of course it is only a bold figure. But such a figure
prepares the mind for new light, suggesting more than it logically
asserts.
The phrase is more striking when we remember that remarkable
peculiarity of the Exodus and its revelations which has been already
pointed out. Elsewhere God appears in human likeness. To Abraham it
was so, just before, and to Manoah soon afterwards. Ezekiel saw upon
the likeness of the throne the likeness of the appearance of a man (Eze
1:26). But Israel saw no similitude, only he heard a voice. This was
obviously a safeguard against idolatry. And it makes the words more
noteworthy, "Jehovah is a man of war," marching with us, our
champion, into the battle. And we know Him as our fathers knew Him
not,--"Jehovah is His name."
* * * * *
The poem next describes the overthrow of the enemy: the heavy
plunge of men in armour into the deeps, the arm of the Lord dashing
them in pieces, His "fire" consuming them, while the blast of His
nostrils is the storm which "piles up" the waters, solid as a wall
of ice, "congealed in the heart of the sea." Then the singers
exultantly rehearse the short panting eager phrases, full of greedy
expectation, of the enemy breathless in pursuit--a passage well
remembered by Deborah, when her triumphant song closed by an
insulting repetition of the vain calculations of the mother of
Sisera and "her wise ladies."
The eleventh verse is remarkable as being the first announcement
of the holiness of God. "Who is like unto Thee, glorious in
holiness?" And what does holiness mean? The Hebrew word is
apparently suggestive of "brightness," and the two ideas are coupled
by Isaiah (Isa 10:17): "The Light of Israel shall be for a fire, and
his Holy One for a flame." There is indeed something in the purity
of light, in its absolute immunity from stain--no passive cleanness,
as of the sand upon the shore, but intense and vital--and in its
remoteness from the conditions of common material substances, that
well expresses and typifies the lofty and awful quality which
separates holiness from mere virtue. "God is called the Holy One
because He is altogether pure, the clear and spotless Light; so that
in the idea of the holiness of God there are embodied the absolute
moral purity and perfection of the Divine nature, and His unclouded
glory" (Keil, Pent., ii. 99). In this thought there is
already involved separation, a lofty remoteness.
And when holiness is attributed to man, it never means innocence,
nor even virtue, merely as such. It is always a derived attribute:
it is reflected upon us, like light upon our planet; and like
consecration, it speaks not of man in himself, but in his relation
to God. It expresses a kind of separation to God, and thus it can
reach to lifeless things which bear a true relation to the Divine.
The seventh day is thus "hallowed." It is the very name of the "Holy
Place," the "Sanctuary." And the ground where Moses was to stand
unshod beside the burning bush was pronounced "holy," not by any
concession to human weakness, but by the direct teaching of God.
Very inseparable from all true holiness is separation from what is
common and unclean. Holy men may be involved in the duties of active
life; but only on condition that in their bosom shall be some inner
shrine, whither the din of worldliness never penetrates, and where
the lamp of God does not go out.
It is a solemn truth that a kind of inverted holiness is known to
Scripture. Men "sanctify themselves" (it is this very word), "and
purify themselves to go into the gardens, ... eating swine's flesh
and the abomination and the mouse" (Isa 66:17). The same word is
also used to declare that the whole fruit of a vineyard sown with
two kinds of fruit shall be forfeited (Deu 22:9), although
the notion there is of something unnatural and therefore
interdicted, which notion is carried to the utmost extreme in
another derivative from the same root, expressing the most depraved
of human beings.
Just so, the Greek word "anathema" means both "consecrated" and
"marked out for wrath" (Luk 21:5; 1Co 16:22 the difference in form
is insignificant.) And so again our own tongue calls the saints
"devoted," and speaks of the "devoted" head of the doomed sinner,
being aware that there is a "separation" in sin as really as in
purity. The gods of the heathen, like Jehovah, claimed an
appropriate "holiness," sometimes unspeakably degraded. They too
were separated, and it was through long lines of sphinxes, and many
successive chambers, that the Egyptian worshipper attained the
shrine of some contemptible or hateful deity. The religion which
does not elevate depresses. But the holiness of Jehovah is noble as
that of light, incapable of defilement. "Who among the gods is like
Thee ... glorious in holiness?" And Israel soon learned that the
worshipper must become assimilated to his Ideal: "Ye shall be holy
men unto Me" (Exo 22:31). It is so with us. Jesus is separated from
sinners. And we are to go forth unto Him out of the camp, bearing
His reproach (Heb 7:26, Heb 13:13).
The remainder of the song is remarkable chiefly for the
confidence with which the future is inferred from the past. And the
same argument runs through all Scripture. As Moses sang, "Thou shalt
bring them in and plant them in the mountain of Thine inheritance,"
because "Thou stretchedst out Thy right hand, the earth[29]
swallowed" their enemies, so David was sure that goodness and mercy
should follow him all the days of his life, because God was already
leading him in green pastures and beside still waters. And so St.
Paul, knowing in Whom he had believed, was persuaded that He was
able to keep his deposit until that day (2Ti 1:12).
So should pardon and Scripture and the means of grace reassure
every doubting heart; for "if the Lord were pleased to kill us, He
would not have ... showed us all these things" (Jdg 13:23). And in
theory, and in good hours, we confess that this is so. But after our
song of triumph, if we come upon bitter waters we murmur; and if our
bread fail, we expect only to die in the wilderness.
SHUR.
Exo 15:22-27.
From the Red Sea the Israelites marched into the wilderness of
Shur--a general name, of Egyptian origin, for the district between
Egypt and Palestine, of which Etham, given as their route in Numbers
(Num 33:8), is a subdivision. The rugged way led over stone and
sand, with little vegetation and no water. And the "three days'
journey" to Marah, a distance of thirty-three miles, was their first
experience of absolute hardship, for not even the curtain of
miraculous cloud could prevent them from suffering keenly by heat
and thirst.
It was a period of disillusion. Fond dreams of ease and
triumphant progress, with every trouble miraculously smoothed away,
had naturally been excited by their late adventure. Their song had
exulted in the prospect that their enemies should melt away, and be
as still as a stone. But their difficulties did not melt away. The
road was weary. They found no water. They were still too much
impressed by the miracle at the Red Sea, and by the mysterious
Presence overhead, for open complaining to be heard along the route;
but we may be sure that reaction had set in, and there was many a
sinking heart, as the dreary route stretched on and on, and they
realised that, however romantic the main plan of their journey, the
details might still be prosaic and exacting. They sang praises unto
Him. They soon forgat His works. Aching with such disappointments,
at last they reached the waters of Marah, and they could not drink,
for they were bitter.
And if Marah be indeed Huwara, as seems to be agreed, the waters
are still the worst in all the district. It was when the relief, so
confidently expected, failed, and the term of their sufferings
appeared to be indefinitely prolonged, that their self-control gave
way, and they "murmured against Moses, saying, What shall we drink?"
And we may be sure that wherever discontent and unbelief are working
secret mischief to the soul, some event, some disappointment or
temptation, will find the weak point, and the favourable moment of
attack, just as the seeds of disease find out the morbid
constitution, and assail it.
Now, all this is profoundly instructive, because it is true to
the universal facts of human nature. When a man is promoted to
unexpected rank, or suddenly becomes rich, or reaches any other
unlooked-for elevation, he is apt to forget that life cannot, in any
position, be a romance throughout, a long thrill, a whole song at
the top note of the voice. Affection itself has a dangerous moment,
when two united lives begin to realise that even their union cannot
banish aches and anxieties, weariness and business cares. Well for
them if they are content with the power of love to sweeten what it
cannot remove, as loyal soldiers gladly sacrifice all things for the
cause, and as Israel should have been proud to endure forced marches
under the cloudy banner of its emancipating God.
As neither rank nor affection exempts men from the dust and
tedium of life, or from its disappointments, so neither does
religion. When one is "made happy" he expects life to be only a
triumphal procession towards Paradise, and he is startled when "now
for a season, if need be, he is in heaviness through manifold
temptations." Yet Christ prayed not that we should be taken out of
the world. We are bidden to endure hardness as good soldiers, and to
run with patience the race which is set before us; and these phrases
indicate our need of the very qualities wherein Israel failed. As
yet the people murmured not ostensibly against God, but only against
Moses. But the estrangement of their hearts is plain, since they
made no appeal to God for relief, but assailed His agent and
representative. Yet they had not because they asked not, and relief
was found when Moses cried unto the Lord. Their leader was "faithful
in all his house"; and instead of upbraiding his followers with
their ingratitude, or bewailing the hard lot of all leaders of the
multitude, whose popularity neither merit nor service can long
preserve unclouded, he was content to look for sympathy and help
where we too may find it.
We read that the Lord showed him a tree, which when he had cast
into the waters, the waters were made sweet. In this we discern the
same union of Divine grace with human energy and use of means, as in
all medicine, and indeed all uses of the divinely enlightened
intellect of man. It would have been easy to argue that the waters
could only be healed by miracle, and if God wrought a miracle what
need was there of human labour? There was need of obedience, and of
the co-operation of the human will with the divine. We shall see, in
the case of the artificers of the tabernacle, that God inspires even
handicraftsmen as well as theologians--being indeed the universal
Light, the Giver of all good, not only of Bibles, but of rain and
fruitful seasons. But the artisan must labour, and the farmer
improve the soil.
Shall we say with the fathers that the tree cast into the waters
represents the cross of Christ? At least it is a type of the
sweetening and assuaging influences of religion--a new element,
entering life, and as well fitted to combine with it as medicinal
bark with water, making all wholesome and refreshing to the
disappointed wayfarer, who found it so bitter hitherto.
The Lord was not content with removing the grievance of the hour;
He drew closer the bonds between His people and Himself, to guard
them against another transgression of the kind: "there He made for
them a statute and an ordinance, and there He proved them." It is
pure assumption to pretend that this refers to another account of
the giving of the Jewish law, inconsistent with that in the
twentieth chapter, and placed at Marah instead of Sinai.[30]
It is a transaction which resembles much rather the promises given
(and at various times, although confusion and repetition cannot be
inferred) to Abraham and Jacob (Gen 12:1-3, Gen 15:1, Gen 15:18-21,
Gen 17:1-14, Gen 22:15-18, Gen 28:13-15, Gen 35:10-12). He said, "If
thou wilt diligently hearken to the voice of the Lord thy God, and
wilt do that which is right in His eyes, and wilt give ear to His
commandments, and wilt keep all His statutes, I will put none of the
diseases upon thee which I have put upon the Egyptians, for I am the
Lord which healeth thee." It is a compact of obedient trust on one
side, and protection on the other. If they felt their own
sinfulness, it asserted that He who had just healed the waters could
also heal their hearts. From the connection between these is perhaps
derived the comparison between human hearts and a fountain of sweet
water or bitter (Jam 3:11).
But certainly the promised protection takes an unexpected shape.
What in their circumstances leads to this specific offer of
exemption from certain foul diseases--"the boil of Egypt, and the
emerods, and the scurvy, and the itch, whereof thou canst not be
healed" (Deu 28:27)? How does this meet the case? Doubtless by
reminding them that there are better exemptions than from hardship,
and worse evils than privations. If they do not realise this at the
spiritual level, at least they can appreciate the threat that "He
will bring upon thee again all the diseases of Egypt which thou wast
afraid of" (Deu 28:60). To be even a luxurious and imperial race,
but infected by repulsive and hopeless ailments, is not a desirable
alternative. Now, such evils, though certainly not in each
individual, yet in a race, are the punishments of non-natural
conditions of life, such as make the blood run slowly and
unhealthily, and charge it with impure deposits. It was God who put
them upon the Egyptians.
If Israel would follow His guidance, and accept a somewhat
austere destiny, then the desert air and exercise, and even its
privations, would become the efficacious means for their exemption
from the scourges of indulgence. A time arrived when they looked
back with remorse upon crimes which forfeited their immunity, when
the Lord said, "I have sent among you the pestilence after the
manner of Egypt; your young men have I slain with the sword" (Amo
4:10).
But it is a significant fact that at this day, after eighteen
hundred years of oppression, hardship, and persecution, of the
ghetto and the old-clothes trade, the Hebrew race is proverbially
exempt from repulsive and contagious disease. They also "certainly
do enjoy immunity from the ravages of cholera, fever and smallpox in
a remarkable degree. Their blood seems to be in a different
condition from that of other people.... They seem less receptive of
disease caused by blood poisoning than others" (Journal of
Victoria Institute, xxi. 307). Imperfect as was their obedience,
this covenant at least has been literally fulfilled to them.
It is by such means that God is wont to reward His children. Most
commonly the seal of blessing from the skies is not rich fare, but
bread and fish by the lake side with the blessing of Christ upon
them; not removal from the desert, but a closer sense of the
protection and acceptance of Heaven, the nearness of a loving God,
and with this, an elevation and purification of the life, and of the
body as well as of the soul. Not in vain has St. Paul written "The
Lord for the body." Nor was there ever yet a race of men who
accepted the covenant of God, and lived in soberness, temperance and
chastity, without a signal improvement of the national physique, no
longer unduly stimulated by passion, jaded by indulgence, or relaxed
by the satiety which resembles but is not repose.
From Marah and its agitations there was a journey of but a few
hours to Elim, with its twelve fountains and seventy palm trees--a
fair oasis, by which they encamped and rested, while their flocks
spread far and wide over a grassy and luxuriant valley.
The picture is still true to the Christian life, with the Palace
Beautiful just beyond the lions, and the Delectable Mountains next
after Doubting Castle.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] There is no warrant in the use
of Scripture for Stanley's assertion that the word translated
"dances" should be rendered "guitars." (Smith's Dict. of Bible,
Article Miriam.)
[29] This is to be taken literally;
it does not mean the waves, but the quicksands in which they "drave
heavily," and which, when steeped in the returning waters, engulfed
them.
[30] Wellhausen, Israel, p.
439.