Elihd
Described in Job 32- as 'son of Barachel the Buzite, of the family of Ram ' ; he would therefore be descended from Nahor, brother of Abraham (Gn 22'-', J). E. is introduced as an interlocutor in the Book of Job, speaking after the three friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zopliar have failed to convince Job by their arguments. He is described as younger than the three; he undertakes, however, to act as moderator between the disputants, and speaks at length in clis. 32-37. But the fact that E.
is mentioned neither in the prologue nor in the epilogue of the book ; that his arguments do not add substantially to the discussion ; tliat the transition from ch. 38 to ch. 39 is abrupt and awkward ; together with certain features of style in the sjieeches assigned to E., — have led most critics to the conclusion that clis. 32-37 represent a later addition to the book. Lightfoot, Rosenmiiller, Derenbourg, and others BU]jport the strange conjecture that E.
is the name of the author himself (see Job, Book of). W. T. Davison. ELIJAH ('.t'7N; .t^k in2K l»•8■'^ Mai 3=3[Eng. 4i>] 'J" is God'; LXX'HX«(o<;; NTHXtiaj, AVElias).— 1. The loftiest prophet of the OT, rai.sed up by J" at a crisis in the history of Israel to save the nation from lapsing into heathenism. His public life is sketched in a few narratives wonderful for their vivid representations and graphic details. His personal hi.story is full of human interest, and presents les.
sons of the highest ethical and spiritual value. His first appearance is surrounded with an element of mystery which is in keeping with his whole history. There is but a single brief refer- ence (1 K 17') to his origin, and even that is not without ambiguity. The words are tr. by AV, in accordance with the MT, ' E. the Tishhite, who was of the inliabitants of Gilead.'
If this render- ing is correct, it signifies that a certain place called Tishbeh or Tishbi of Gilead, not named elsewhere, had the distinction of giving l)irth to the prophet. Some have sought to identify it with Tliisbe of Naphtali, mentioned in To 1'. They point out that the correct rendering of 'adBD (on the a.ssumption that it is a common, not a proper name) is not ' of the inhabitants,' but 'of tiie sojourners' (so RV), which would imply that E. came from another or foreign district.
But the LXX makes the dis- puted word a projier name, and reads ' E. the Tishbite from Thesbon of Gilead.' This reading ii«ems to be followed by Josephus {Ant. vin. xiii. 2). It is supported by the fact that, when- ever the word is a common noun, it is written DCJin. There seems therefore little reason to doubt that E. was a native of the wild but beautiful mountain district of GUead, the highlands of Palestine, on the eastern side of the Jordan, bordering on the ^eat desert.
There he had a prophet's nurture in solitude. He alwa3's loved the wild deliles and rushing torrents of his native land. Lonely mountains and bleak deserts were congenial to his spirit. He learned to dwell familiarly on the sterner aspects of religion and morality. He had the austere, a-scetic, mono- theistic spirit of the desert. He learned the fear of J" which knew no other fear. Nothing is s.iid of his parentage, and the omis- sion is in .
striking contrast to the wealth of detail with which the descent of some other prophets is stated. E. occupied from the first a unique and exalted position in the goodly fellowsliip. He .seemed to be like Melchizedek ' without father, without mother, without genealogy, haWng neither beginning of days nor end of life.' Strange tradi- tions arose in later times among the Rabbis, as that he was Phinehas, the grandson of Aaron, returned to life, or an angel in human form. E.'
s whole manner of life is meant to be a protest against a corrupt civilisation. He has some of the habits of the ancient Nazirite, and not a few of the characteristics of the modern Bedawin. His unshorn locks streaming down his shoulders and his rough mantle of camel's hair (2 K 1') alone make him a remarkable figure in Israel. He has the fleet foot of a true son of the desert (1 K IS*), and an iron frame which enables him to endure a forty days' fast (19").
He dwells in the clefts of the Clierith (17'), sleeps under a desert broom (19), lodges in the cave of Horeb(19'), and haunts the slopes of Carmel. If he enters a city, it is only to deliver the message of J" and be gone. His start- ling appearances, abrupt speeches, and sudden dis- appearances create around his personality a pro- found air of mystery. He is believed to lie borne hither and thither by the Spirit of J" (1 K 18'-', 2 K 2').
He comes down from the hills of Gilead as the cliampion and prophet of J" in the dark days of Israel's apostasy. He comes to bear witness to truths which ought never to have been denied in Israel. Like every true reformer, he takes his stand upon old principles. He is the personified conscience of the nation. He comes, a prophet of heroic mould, to witness by deeds rather than by words. The spiritual danger which E.
was called to avert arose out of a political alliance formed between Israel and Phoenicia, and cemented by the marriage of Ahab and Jezebel, the son and the daughter of the allied kings. A covenant between two Semitic peoples was always supposed to imply a friendship between their gods. Its natural sequel was a syncretism of faith an'' worship. "That Ahab did not at first think of denying J" is proved by the names he gave his sons — Ahaziah (J" holds) and Jehoram (J"is high).
But his religious instincts were aa dull as his political instincts were keen. Brave enough in battle, and on the whole a successful ruler, he was morally weak, and came completely under the h.incful influence of his strong-minded Tyri.in wife, a fanatic in her own faith. It was to pUa.
se her that he not only erected a temple to Baal at Samaria (1 K 10'-) and introduced a multitude of foreign priests (IS'"), but allowed a religious per- secution, in which many of the prophets of J" are said to have been slain (IS*"). The effect of these events on the religious life of Israel could not be small. The people hod hitherto been ensnared only by the gods of the hostile tribes of Caaoar 688 ELIJAH KLIJAH Thorn they had subdued.
They were now tempted to adopt the cultus of a great allied nation, and the temptation proved too stron" to be resisted. Baal-worship became the court religion, and, if its progress had not been effectually checked, would soon have become the national religion. To prevent this disastrous consummation is E.'s life-task. His fiery zeal against the Tyrian cultus springs from moral at least as much as religious considerations.
That superstition had such accom- paniments as would soon sap the moral vijjour of any nation. A patriot as well as a prophet, E. comes to save his country. His ruling passion is jealousy for the Lord God of hosts (1 K 19'°). He knows the God of Israel as a moral and spiritual being, and all his demands on behalf of J" are moral and spiritual. The details of ritual do not trammel a man of his spiritual force. He knows nothing of the Deutcronomic law wLich condemns local altars (1 K 18'-).
It is not recorded that he ever visits Jerusalem. But Gilgal, Bethel, Carmel, and otlier ancient sanctuaries of tlie true religion, are dear to him. Sinai is, from its associations, the holiest ground. He believes in a covenant in virtue of which J" became the God of Israel, and Israel the people of J". And the conviction is burned into his mind that there can be no alliance between the God of Israel and any other divinity. His jealousy for J" is tlie counter- part of J"'s jealousy for Israel.
It is to E. an intuitive truth that J" can brook no rival in His kingdom, and he is amazed that any can doubt it : his spirit blazes with contempt against all ' weak- kneed ' persons (1 K 18") who hSt between two opinions. It is contended by some critics (Wellhausen, Stade, etc.) that E.
was not a monotheist, like Amos, Hosea, and the other literary prophets : that he was like the mass of the people of his time in regarding J" as only the God of Israel — a local god — and believing that every other nation had us own deity. It is affirmed that E. was a * heno- iheist.' Now, it is sufficiently clear that the faith ot many of his contemporaries is of this rudiment- ary order : the contest between J" and Baal is to fhem a real struggle between rival deities. But E.'
s lofty conception of J" virtually excludes all other objects of worship — makes all the gods idols. It is difficult to believe that the Baal whom he treats with such irony and contempt (I K 18-'') has to his mind any reality. At any rate, it is but a short step from E.'s 'henotheism' to absolute monotheism. The memoirs of E. seem to be derived from several sources. The narratives in 1 K 17-19. 21, 2 K 2, form a unity.
They took shape in Northern Israel, as is indicated by the remark that Beersheba •belongeth to Judah' (1 K 19^). They were prob- ably written under the influence of the literary prophets of the Northern Kingdom, about the beginning of the 7th cent. B.C. These narratives are composed in the highest style of literary art. Their distinctly popular character is apparent, and it has been noted by W. R. Smith that they read like a transcript of a vivid oral tradition (Prophets of I^ael, 116).
Like other historical parts of the OT, they may have lived in the mouths of the people for generations, forming a powerful means of religious education, before they were committed to writing. E. comes on the stage of history with the same startling abruptne.ss with which he makes his first appearance before Ahab. He is sent to announce that J' is about to avenge the apos- tasy of Israel by bringing a long drought on the land. This message delivered, he vanishes into solitude.
He is guided by the Spirit of J" to the brook Cherith 'that is before,' i.e. to the east of. ' Jordan ' (1 K 17'), probably in his native Gilead. See Cherith. There his life is miraculouslj sustained by ravens, which bring him flesh every morning and evening (w.''"') Prosaic critics have tried to eliminate the marvellous element from tha story.
They call attention to the fact that the word D'3iy, which is so pointed in the MT as to mean ' ravens,' signifies with another set of vowel- points ' Arabs,' with another ' merchants,' or ' in- habitants of Oreb.' But, not to emphasize the fact that ravens eat flesh, which Arabs generally avoid, it is to be noted that the marvellous element is quite in keeping with other parts of E.'s story.
In the oral tradition the prophet's friends were doubtless 'ravens': the narrative would not have been thouglit worth preserving but for the miraculous feature, which is reproduced in all the ancient versions. When the brook Cherith dries up in the long drought, the prophet goes, under divine direction, to Zarephath, a city of heathen Tyre (17*), where he is hospitably received by a poor widow whom the famine has reduced to her last meal (v.'^).
The prophet finds a well-spring of kindness in the heart of a heathen ccuntry. He learns to sym- pathize with one of another race and a strange religion, and his stem nature is in some degree softened by contact with human sufl'ering. He rewards the widow's charity first by miraculously increasing her small store of meal and oU, and later by restoring her child to life (w."'") His experience begins to prepare him for a higher revelation, which he is in due time to receive.
Meanwhile the king, in his rage against the prophet of evil, sends messengers into all nations (1 K IS'") to search for E., but they report that their quest has been fruitless. For three years there falls no rain or dew in Israel. The famine is so severe that the king and his chamberlain, Obadiah, have to scour the country in search of provender for the royal stables (v.") While they are engaged in this quest, E. suddenly appears before Obadiah and bids him summon his master (v.'*).
The meeting of the prophet and the king is very dramatic. Ahab has never been able to stifle the conscience of an Israelite, and cannot witlihold his respect from the prophet of J". He bitterly accuses E. of being the troubler of Israel ; but when the prophet flings back the charge, the king is silenced (v."*). E. challenges, or rather commands, him to summon the pronliets of Baal to a contest between J" and Baal on Alount Carmel. The worshippers of Baal sliall sacrifice to their God ; E.
himself will sacrifice to J" : the god v^ho answers by fire, he shall be the God. Ihe king consents (v.™-). The narrative of the contest (1 K I8-"') is one of the grandest in the OT. Apart from its historical value, it is precious a« ao ideal representation of the conflict which is always being waged between true and false religion, and of combatants who are always meeting. On the appointed day the king and the 400 prophets of Baal, E. and 'all the people,' assemble on Carmel.
The propliets of Baal, ha\-i»g built an altar and laid their sacrifice, pray to tlieir god from morning till evening, and are excited to a frenw by their fruitless ellbrts and the biting sarcasm of E. In the evening E. rebuilds the ancient altar of J" — thrown down in these times of persecution — and utters a few calm words of prayer to J". The lightning falls and consumes not only the sacrifice, out tlie altar and the water poured into trenches around it.
The people fall on their faces, and with loud voices acknowledge that J* is God. Then, in an access of irrepressible zeal, thev fall upon the 400 propliets who have deceived the nation, and put them all to the sword. E.
prays that the drought may cease, and before nightfall there is a tempest ELIJAH ELIJAH «R9 of rain, in the midst of wliich tlie strange prophet, eeizcd by a sudden impulse, carried away by the emotion of triumph, rolla his mantle together and runs like an avant -courier in front of the royal chariot all the sixteen miles from Carmel to the gates of Jezreel (w.*^""). E. imagines that the battle for truth has been fought and won, and that his task is virtually accomplished.
But his triumph is brief. When he receives a message that Jezebel has sworn to have his life (19^), his sanguine hope for the re- storation of the true religion is changed in a moment into blank despair. He feels with a sink- ing heart that he has laboured for naught and in vain. God Himself has contended in vain with human folly. Nothing can be made of a king whom miracles will not convince, but who is tamed round the finger of a woman. The apos- tate nation will remain apostate.
Seeing all this (the LXX and other ancient versions, instead of ' and he saw it,' read ' and he was afraid,' \9), E. flees for his life to Judsea, and, leaving his servant at Beersheba, plunges into the desert, where he is alone with J". Weary, famished, and heavy of heart, he lies down under a desert broom [80 RVm ; see Juniper], and is willing to die. He feels that his life has been a failure. He has been worsted in the battle of life, and something tells him that he has deserved to be.
He is no better than his fathers. He has now nothing more to live for. It is vain to continue the unequal strug^'le. All men have forsaken him. He has no friend but J ", and he prays that He would release him from his fruitless t,a.sk (vv.'-*). God is very kind to his servant, first satisfj'ing his bodily wants, and then givin" him a new revelation such as his soul needs.
As the prophet sleeps under the desert bush, he is awakened by the touch of an angel, who sets meat and drink before him, and on the strength of that food he goes a forty days' journey (forty bein^, as usual, a round number) to Horeb (vv.'-"). It is not diffi- cult to understand what the prophet seeks at that mountain sanctuary. He desires to meet J". Men have failed him : he wants to make sure of God. He goes to Horeb to stand where Moses stood.
His heart cries out for the vindication of the moral law. Finding a cave, he lodges there (v.*). (In the Heb. it is the cave, either as already a place to which pilgrims resorted, or from the f.ame of^tliis single visit: the traditional cave is in a secluded plain under the highest peak of Jebel Mftsa; see SiNAI.) The narrative which follows (w."-W) is spiritually one of the profoundest in the OT. J" represents to E.
, by a magnificent acted parable, the contrast between law and grace, judg- ment and mercy. As the prophet of J", E. has been nsing the weapon of force. He has never con- ceived it possible to defeat the enemies of God by my other weapon. He has magnified God's strict- ness with a zeal He will not own. And he has failed. Force has left men hard and indiU'erent. J" here makes experiment upon E. with his own weapon. He visits the mountain with a hurri- cane, with an earthquake, and with a fire.
The prophet's wounded spirit is not moved by any of these. J" is not in them. But in the calm which follows the tumult he hears a still small roice (UVtn 'a sound of gentle stillness') which thrills his inmost being; he feels that God is there ; self-abased, he wraps his face in his mantle and waits to receive the divine communications, lie is tlius taught the meaning of his failure. Ho is shown in a parable 'a more excellent way.' In the heart of Sinai he learns the gentleness of God.
Others like him.self may be won by grace, whom might and wrath have failed to move. The kingdom of God comes not so much by startling