JEHORAM, KING OF JUDAH.
Verses sixteen to twenty-nine, inclusive, of the eighth chapter of the second Book of Kings should be compared with the twenty-first chapter of the second Book of Chronicles. The name Joram is an obvious contraction of Jehoram. Joram and Jehoram were practically interchangeable terms. The king of Israel is called Joram, and the king of Judah Jehoram. In another place Joram is the name of the king of Judah. In two other places both kings are called Jehoram.
Jehoram “walked in the way of the kings of Israel, as did the house of Ahab”—in other words, as the house of Ahab acted. Jehoram, as son-in-law of Ahab and Jezebel, gave his patronage to the worship of the Tyrian Baal.
Jehoram had examples enough before him of the fate which had befallen idolatrous worship, and yet, turning his eye backward upon all the ruins which had been created by divine anger, he pursued his evil way as if the Lord had approved the house of Ahab and its idolatry rather than manifested His judgments upon them.
Rational men may well ask themselves how it is that history is lost on some minds. They look backward and see that from the beginning sin has always been followed by punishment, and punishment has in many cases been carried as far as death itself. Yet in view of all the suffering, and in full sight of the innumerable graves dug by the hand of justice, they continue the same policy without one particle of alteration.
One would have supposed that, looking at the history of the kings of Israel, Jehoram would have said:
“I see now exactly what to avoid; and to see what to avoid is to begin to see what to cultivate and establish. It is perfectly evident that the worship of Baal is doomed, or that wherever it is set up divine anger instantly and severely attests the displeasure of God. It must be my care, therefore, to destroy every trace of idolatry, and build up faith in the true God.”
This would have been called reflective and philosophical on the part of the king, and indeed any thing that stood opposed to this course of reasoning would seem to be marked by incredible fatuity.
The contrary, however, is the exact fact. With all the evidences of divine displeasure around him Jehoram continued in the worship of Baal, or in some other form of idolatry which might appeal to the popular imagination or gratify the desires of his own corrupt fancy.
It is easy for moralists to condemn this neglect of history, and to point out to those who, having neglected it, come into suffering and loss, that they ought to have been wise before the event; but the very same thing is done even by the moralists who criticize the course of Jehoram and his predecessors.
This is the sin of every age, and it should be looked at clearly and acknowledged frankly, because until we do bring ourselves into vital relation to it our reasoning will be founded on false bases and will hasten itself to false conclusions.
All history is teaching us that the wages of sin is death; that the way of transgressors is hard; that, though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpunished; that the face of the Lord is as a flint against evil doers. Yet, with this plainest of all lessons written on the very face of history, men are doing today as their predecessors did centuries ago, and will probably continue to repeat the folly and the wickedness until the end of time.
Surely, this is as curious a puzzle as any that occurs in all the annals of human history. It would seem, indeed, to be more than a puzzle; to be, in fact, indicative of a suicidal disposition on the part of the actor. It would not be tolerated in any other department of life.
If a man had known that a hundred of his ancestors were killed by drinking a certain liquid, and he thus knowingly put that liquid to his lips, the iniquity of his suicide would be aggravated by the knowledge of what had occurred in the records of his family.
How many murders, then, may he be said to accomplish who murders himself as to his moral nature and spiritual cultivation? He does not do it in ignorance. All history is surrounding him with its evidence, and is doing its utmost to secure his attention, and he himself is not unwilling to acknowledge that the testimony of history is uniform and absolute. Yet some immeasurable force within him drives him with infinite fury to the repetition of every sin and the defiance of every judgment.
What was the reason of all this patronage and support of idolatry?
Jehoram had an excellent father, and if any thing was to be expected from the operation of the law of hereditary dispositions, it would be that Jehoram would be of the same quality as Jehoshaphat.
Some curious and energetic influence must have been at work to throw back all hereditary quality and convert the man into a totally different nature. What was that influence? An expression in the eighteenth verse explains its nature and its scope: “For the daughter of Ahab was his wife.”
Wherever we find the name of Ahab we also find the presence of evil. Ahab lived again in his daughter, though Jehoshaphat did not repeat himself in his son. “The evil that men do lives after them.” Jehoram was under home influence; and is not home influence most potent of all? It is a daily influence; it begins with the early morning and continues all the day through. It does not assume aggressive attitudes or excite suspicion by tumult and defiance of temper. It is noisy or quiet, persistent or reluctant, energetic or languid, according to the peculiar circumstances of the family history. At this moment a word too energetically spoken might defeat its own object; at another moment a languid reference might be more than a vehement appeal; and on still other occasions anger, fury and clamor may bring to a point a long process of suggestion and education.
This is the mystery of home life.
The plotter waits for opportunities, creates them, puts them in the way of his victim, measures distances, regulates the methods of approaches. He studies his prey, watches him with an evil eye, remembers all his words, weighs them, calculates all their unspoken meanings, and at the right moment interposes his own influence. Wicked men in this respect are often models to good men.
The enemy of souls never rests.
“Your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”
Nor is he always a lion. Sometimes he is as a serpent, and sometimes even as an angel of light. But his evil policy never hesitates. When he blesses, it is that he may curse; when he leads his victim into the light, it is that he may have the greater influence over him to persuade him into the darkness.
Is it of no consequence with whom we live our daily life? Is the married relation one that expresses mere taste or momentary pleasure? Are not the companionships of life its true sources of tuition and inspiration?
A man who is in happy fellowship at home may over-get some of the worst hereditary infirmities and disabilities, and may be encouraged into attainments of correct self-discipline and virtue which under other circumstances would be simply impossible.
The conversion of the world, it would seem, must begin at home. We must have happier married relations, fuller domestic confidence, riper household trust and sympathy.
Out of all this daily education, under happy influences, there may come a kind of character rich in its own quality and beneficent in its influence on society.
Jehoram had provoked the Lord, yet so pitiful is the God of Heaven that He spared Judah for the sake of David, His servant, as He promised to give David always a light. But Jehoram was, nevertheless, severely punished for his wickedness.
In his days Edom revolted from under the hand of Judah, and made a king over themselves. Libnah also revolted at the same time. Thus the peace of the kingdom was broken up, and Jehoram was made indirectly to suffer for the sin of idolatry.
How quietly the twenty-third verse reads! It says: “And the rest of the acts of Joram, and all that he did, are they not written in the book of the chronicles of the kings of Judah?” It would seem as if the bad king had simply fallen asleep like a tired child.
But in the second Book of Chronicles we read that Jehoram died of sore diseases, and that “the people made no burning for him”—that is, the usual honors of a sovereign were withheld in this particular case.
Jehoram died in contempt and neglect. He departed without being desired; in other words, he departed without regret—died unregretted. He was not refused burial in the city of David, but his body was not laid in the sepulchers of the kings.
Thus, sooner or later, wickedness finds out a man, and brands him with dishonor. If, under other conditions, wickedness is carried to the grave amid great pomp and circumstance, it is only that the dishonor may be found in some other quarter—in the hatred of good men and in the bitter recriminations of those who have been wronged.
Set it down as a sure doctrine that, whenever a bad man is buried, dishonor attaches to his whole name, and contempt withers every flower that may be planted over his grave.
The words “but not in the sepulchers of the kings” may receive a larger interpretation than the technical one which belongs to this immediate circumstance. Men are buried in the sepulchers of the kings when their lives are full of beneficence, when their names are the symbols of noble charity, large-minded justice, heroic fortitude, tender sympathy for others. Their burying place is not a merely topographical point. Their relation to the hearts that knew them, their place in the memory of those who lived with them, the tears which are shed over the recollection of their good deeds, the void which has been created by their removal—all these constitute the royalty of their interment.
The end of Jehoram, king of Judah—who would choose it?