ATHALIAH.
Athaliah was a king’s daughter and a king’s wife. She had a son whose name was Ahaziah, but, as he was an invalid, he did not occupy the throne longer than about twelve months.
As soon as his mother saw that he was dead a fierce and most murderous passion seized her heart. She then resolved to be queen herself.
In order to carry out this nefarious purpose, she slew all the seed royal, so that, there being no successor to the throne, she ascended it and reigned as queen.
It is very wonderful that some of the most cruel and startling things in the world have been done by women. One called Laodice poisoned her six sons one by one, that she might be empress of Constantinople. Another, ironically named Irene, took the eyes out of her own boy, that he might be incapable of empire, and that she might reign alone.
These things were done in the ancient time. Is any of the cruelty of heart left still? The accident may be changed—what about the passion and purpose of the heart? Let every one answer the question individually.
Athaliah made her heap of corpses and laughed in her mad heart, saying that now she was queen. But always some Fleance escapes the murderer’s clutch. In that heap of corpses there was an infant boy, hardly twelve months old; he was spared. The sword had not taken his little life, but the queen knew not that the child Joash had escaped. He was taken and with his nurse was hidden in the Temple, and there he was trained by the good priest, Jehoiada, for some six years. All the while the queen was reigning and doing evil.
The little boy was saved by his aunt, Jehosheba, and when six years had passed and the boy was seven years of age, being twelve months old when he was snatched from impending ruin, Jehoiada called the rulers together and all the chief and mighty men of Israel. He then revealed the secret to them.
Having disposed these dignitaries in military order and with military precision around the person of the young king, Jehoiada brought the crown and put it upon his head, and he gave him the testimony or Book of Leviticus; and, having gone through all this ceremonial process, the young king stood upright by the pillar of inauguration in the Temple, and all that great throng then clapped their hands and shouted: “God save the king!” Louder the shout rang till the queen heard it in her own house, which was not far off.
“The nearer the church, the farther from God,” has been wittily said.
Athaliah hastened to the sacred place to know the reason of this hilarious tumult, and when the case was made clear to her she shrieked and cried:
“Treason! Treason!”
But her voice found no echo in the hearts of men. Not a soul fluttered—not a heart started up in the royal defense. The woman—the evil daughter of an evil mother—was taken out by the way along which the horses came into the king’s house, and the sword which she had thrust into the throats of others drank her own blood.
In an event of this kind there must be some great lessons for all time. These are not merely momentary ebullitions of wrath or malice. They have history in them; they are red with the common blood of the whole race.
Very few men stand out in ancient history with so fair and honorable a fame as good Jehoshaphat. It is like a tonic, intellectual and spiritual, to read his vivid history. He was a grand king—long-headed, good-hearted, honest and healthy in purpose of doing wondrous things for his kingdom and for the chosen of God.
But is there not a weak point in every man? Does not the strongest man stoop? Does not great Homer sometimes nod?
Jehoshaphat had this weakness, that he hankered after some kind of connection with the wicked house of Ahab. He had a son, whose name was Jehoram (or Joram), and he wanted his son married. He must look around for royal blood. Explain it as we may—no man has explained it fully yet—Jehoshaphat wanted to be connected with the evil house of Ahab. To that house he looked for a wife for his son, Jehoram. His son married Athaliah, and she brought into the kingdom all the idolatry of Ahab and the fierce blood-thirstiness of Jezebel. That was the root of the mischief. Some roots lie a long time before they begin to germinate. There may be roots in our lives which will take ten years or forty years to develop, but the root will bring forth according to its kind. Let us take care what roots we plant in our lives—what connections we form.
Jehoram, the son of good Jehoshaphat, walked in the evil ways of the kings of Israel, and he wrought that which was evil in the sight of the Lord. Mark the reason given by the inspired historian: “He had the daughter of Ahab to wife.”
What secrets were indicated by that one reason! What a whole volume of tragedy is wrapped up in that brief sentence!
The responsibility seems to a large extent transferred from Jehoram and placed upon his wife, who was a more subtle thinker, a more desperate character, with a larger brain and a firmer will, with more accent and force of personality. Jehoram played the evil trick, repeated the foul habit, went in the wrong direction, bowed down to forbidden altars, for—“he had the daughter of Ahab to wife.” She lured him; the seduction was hers; she won the conquest. When he would have bowed the knee to the God of Heaven, she laughed at him and mocked him into Baal worship. He fell as a victim into her industrious and cruel hands.
“Be not unequally yoked together.” Do not look upon marriage lightly; do not suppose that it is a game for the passing day, a flash and gone, a hilarious excitement, a wine-bibbing, a passing around of kind salutations, then dying away like a trembling echo. Beware what connections you form, and do not suppose that the laws of God can be set aside with impunity. Get out of your heads the infinite mistake that you can do as you like and escape the operation of divine law. Deliver yourselves from the cruel delusion that you can sow tares and reap wheat. Be not deceived. God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.
Our family life explains our public attitude and influence. What we are at home we are really abroad.
Wives, do not destroy your husbands. When they would do good, help them. When they propose to give to the cause of charity, suggest that the donation be doubled, not divided. When they would help in any good and noble work, give them sympathy, prayer and blessing. We never knew a man yet of any enduring public power that was not made by his wife, and we never knew a public man yet that fully appreciated the value of that ministry. It is secret; it is at home; it does not show. It is chalked on a black-board, and not gilded on a high ceiling; it is silent, but vital.
We have seen a man go down in his church life, and we have wondered why. It was his wife—the daughter of Ahab—who was degrading him, narrowing him and dwarfing him in his thinking and sympathy.
We have seen a man go up in his public influence, and we have found that it was his wife who was encouraging him, helping him, telling him that he was on the right way, and wishing him good luck in the name of the Lord.
See to it that your home is right. Have a beautiful home—morally and religiously; a sacred house, a sanctuary where joy is the singing angel. And then, when you come abroad into the market-place, into the pulpit, into parliament, into trade and commerce or into any of the social relations of life, you will bring with you all the inspiration which comes from a home that blooms like a garden or glows like a Summer sun.
Do not suppose that the divine purpose can be set aside by Athaliahs, Irenes, Laodices or any false, furious or desperate characters of any kind.
The Lord promised David that he should always have a candle in Jerusalem. The light was very low sometimes—it was reduced to a spark in young Joash; but it was God’s candle, and Athaliah’s wild breath could not blow out that light. The word of the Lord abideth for ever.
Observe a very strong peculiarity in human nature, as shown in the conduct of Athaliah. She went into the Temple and saw the young Joash with a crown upon his head, and she shrieked out: “Treason! Treason!”
Poor innocent Athaliah! Who would not pity so gentle a dove, with a breast of feathers and a cruel dart rankling in it? Sweet woman—gentle and loving creature—injured queen! Her hands were perfectly clean; she was the victim of a cruel stratagem. She was outwitted by heads longer than hers. She, poor unsuspecting soul, had been brought into this condition, and all she could do was to cry in injured helplessness:
“Treason! Treason!”
How moral we become under some circumstances! How very righteous we may stand up to be under certain provocations! Who could but pity poor Athaliah, who had nursed her grandchildren with a wolf’s care? We do this very self-same thing very often in our own lives. Where is the man who does not suppose that he has a right to do wrong? But let other people do wrong, and then hear him!
Given a religious sect of any name whatsoever, that has the domination of any neighborhood, and the probability is that that religious sect will use its supremacy somewhat mischievously in certain circumstances. It will not let anybody who opposes its tenets have an acre of ground in that neighborhood, nor will it allow any sect that opposes its principles to build a church there. No! It takes a righteous view of the circumstances; it will not trifle with its responsibilities; it can allow no encroachment. It is charged with the spirit of stewardship, and must be faithful to its sacred obligations.
So it cants and whines, whatever its name be. If it be the name we bear religiously, so much the worse. We speak of no particular sect, but of any sect that may be placed in such peculiar circumstances as to claim the domination and supremacy in any neighborhood.
Now, let any member of that sect leave that particular locality and go to live under a wholly different set of circumstances, and apply for a furlong of ground, or for a house that he may occupy as tenant. Then let it be found that his religious convictions are a bar to his enjoyment of local properties and liberties. He will cry out: “Persecution! Persecution!” How well it befits his lips! The very man who in one district persecuted to the death those who opposed him removes to another locality, where a screw is applied to his own joints, and he raises the cry of persecution. It is Athaliah’s old trick, and will have Athaliah’s poor reward.
See how the cry of the wicked is unheeded. Athaliah was a woman, and by so much had a claim upon the sympathy of the strong. Yet no man’s heart went out to her in loyal reverence.
Jehoash (or Joash, as the name was shortened) was trained in the Temple, under the good Jehoiada. He was blessed in his aunt—for it was his aunt who took him, the daughter of Ahab, but not by the mother of Athaliah—and Joash did good all the days of Jehoiada, the priest. See the influence of a noble life. See how religion may help royalty, and how that which is morally true lifts up patriotism to a higher level. No country is sound at heart—through and through good and likely to endure—that draws not the inspiration of its patriotism from the loftiness and purity of its religion.
All these tragedies are making the Earth reek with abomination today. Athaliah lives in a vigorous progeny.