With a bowed head, though with a stout heart, Hosea went to the market place on the following morning. He mingled with the people in the vicinity of the slave auction district, watching particularly a certain block, on which, he was told, Gomer was to be offered for sale.
He studied carefully every woman that was put upon the block. At last he recognized her. But how changed she seemed. Her beauty, for which she had been famous, was gone. Her straight erect form was stooped. Her eyes, once proud, were cast down. She had a forlorn, hopeless look, as if she didn't care what happened to her. Evidently she had suffered greatly.
Where had she been during the past four years? What hardships had she been through that she was so changed? Why did she fall so low that she had to be sold into slavery?
The answers to these questions would have made no difference in the plan Hosea had determined to follow with Gomer. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, he raised bid after bid, until he bought her for "fifteen pieces of silver and a homer of barley and a half-homer of barley."
Gomer was not at all concerned about the one who had purchased her. She did not take a single glance in the direction of those who were bidding for her. When sold, she stepped wearily down from the block and waited listlessly to be claimed by the owner and taken away.
Hosea approached her, stepped to her side and spoke her name in a low voice: "Gomer!"
She raised her eyes and looked at him as through a haze. Hosea, too, had changed much during the past four years. His love for Gomer, the uncertainty of her whereabouts, his grief, his constant preaching to Israel that fell on deaf ears, had made deep furrows in his face and brought wrinkles to his forehead.
"Come with me," he said softly to her.
For a moment Gomer stared at him; then she fell in a dead faint at his feet.
It was a long time before she revived. Sorrow and repentance for her foolishness in leaving a home where her husband loved her and where her children would have worshiped her, had she permitted them to do so, had sapped all her strength. The sudden shock of seeing Hosea and the knowledge that he had bought her as a slave nearly killed her.
But Hosea had no thought of revenge. In his great heart there was naught but love for Gomer.
On their way home Gomer began:
"I regret," she said, "I am sorry—"
But Hosea stopped her. He would not even listen to words of explanation from her whom he loved. He knew that she must have suffered much, that she was unhappy. It was sufficient now that she was sorry, that she had repented. Hosea did not want to cause her the pain of a recital of her sorrows.
That is the way people who love truly do. They forgive and forget, quickly and without causing pain.
Hosea had the children removed to the home of a friend for several months. During that time Gomer quickly recovered from her trials and returned to health and beauty. Then he brought the children back and restored them to their real mother.
Once, after the reunited family had spent a very happy evening, a tremendous truth came home to Hosea. Here they were all happy, as if trouble had never entered to disturb the sweetness and beauty of their lives! Why had sorrow and suffering come upon them at all?
Then and there Hosea realized that there was a purpose in his home tragedy. He understood better than ever before that God had selected him to be a prophet to his people; that God had taught him through sorrow and suffering, the lesson he was to teach to Israel.
Israel had become faithless to God and had left His law; even as Gomer had left her husband. God grieved for the sins of Israel; even as he had grieved for Gomer who had strayed from him. God loved His people, nevertheless; even as he loved Gomer, continually. God was prepared to take Israel back under His guiding and loving care, when Israel would repent of its backsliding and sinning; even as he did with Gomer.
From that day on Hosea's preaching took on a different form. He no longer scolded and condemned, but entreated and pleaded with his people:
"Return, O Israel, to the Lord thy God, For thou hast stumbled through thine iniquity. Take words with thee And return to God. Say to Him, 'Pardon Thou wholly iniquity And receive (us) with favor. Assyria will not save us, We will not ride upon horses (to Egypt); We will no more say to the work of our hands, "Ye are our god."'"
And, in the fervor of his poetic soul, the prophet hears God's answer to repenting and returning Israel:
"I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely, For my anger is turned away from them. I will be as dew to Israel; He shall blossom as the lily And strike his roots deep as Lebanon. His saplings shall spread out, And his beauty shall be as the olive tree. They shall return and dwell in my shadow, They shall live well-watered like a garden, They shall flourish like a vine, Their renown shall be like that of the wine of Lebanon."
But such hopefulness and promise of divine love had no more effect upon the doomed people than did the attacks upon their sinfulness and wrongdoing.
The Judean prophet, Amos, it will be remembered, drew a picture of God as a stern judge and Israel as the criminal. Israel is proved guilty of all the prophet's accusations, and the Judge pronounces sentence.
The experiences that led the Samarian, Hosea, to prophesy were different than those of the Tekoan. Understanding the lasting love that dwelt within him for Gomer, and how he yearned for her return to him, he cried out to his people, from the depths of a wounded heart, speaking through the inspiration of a loving and merciful God:
"O my people! How can I give thee up, O Ephraim! How can I surrender thee, O Israel! How can I give thee up as Admah! Or make thee as Zeboim! My heart asserts itself: My sympathies are all aglow. I will not carry into effect the fierceness of my anger; I will not turn to destroy Ephraim. For God am I, and not man, Holy in the midst of thee; Therefore I will not utterly consume. Turn thou to thy God, Keep kindness and justice, And wait for thy God continually."
Although Hosea saw that he was laboring to no good effect, he did not for an instant give up. Time and again he recalled the early days of love and devotion between God and Israel. He recounted the times when Israel deserted God, from the Exodus on, but God always received Israel back, when the people repented of their sins and returned to acts of justice, righteousness and love.
"I am the Lord, thy God, from the land of Egypt; Thou knowest no God but Me, And besides Me there is no Savior."
Hosea could not conceive the idea that God would desert Israel forever. He recognized, however, that the doom of the sinful nation was sealed. And so he read the drama of Israel in his own life. Assyria would destroy Samaria. Israel would leave the fatherland as Gomer left her home. In exile Israel would learn through suffering and hardships as Gomer had done. Israel would redeem itself and, eventually, would return to God. God, loving Israel always, would wait to receive His repentant people, as he himself had received Gomer.
And so Hosea drew a beautiful picture of that future day in these words:
"And I will betroth thee unto me forever. Yea, I will betroth thee unto me with righteousness, And with justice and with loving-kindness and in mercy; Yea, I will betroth thee unto me with faithfulness, And thou shalt know God."
* * * * *
The compiler of the fragments of Hosea's speeches in the book bearing the prophet's name—the most fragmentary book in the Bible, and from which this story has been built up—concludes his labors with this admonition:
"Whoso is wise, let him understand these things; Whoso is prudent, let him realize them; For straight are the ways of the Lord. The righteous walk in them, But transgressors stumble upon them."
The Vision in the Temple.
Even his closest friends could not explain what had come over young Isaiah, since the physicians announced that King Uzziah was nearing his end.
Amoz, Isaiah's father, was of a noble family, very near the throne in Jerusalem, and a dear personal friend of the king. Isaiah, too, was a prime favorite of Uzziah's, not by virtue of his father's friendship for the king, but because of his own fine qualities and excellent disposition.
Often Isaiah had been invited, with the Crown Prince, Jotham, to be present at the Great Councils of State—a very distinguished honor for so young a man. But no one thought, for an instant, that this change in manner and behavior, so noticeable to everyone, had come upon Isaiah because of his grief over the aged king's fatal illness.
Isaiah was being trained to enter upon a political career. His politics was the only serious thing in life for him. The country was so peaceful and prosperous, however, that even politics was a matter of little consequence to most of the royalty in Jerusalem. They lived the joyous life, paid little attention to the Temple and its priests, and often laughed at the whole religious ritual. But when great State functions occurred at the Palace or foreign ambassadors appeared at Court, all royalty celebrated with feasting—and Isaiah was among those present and in high favor.
He always came to these occasions in rare good humor and with cheerful enthusiasm. He was a young man of many accomplishments. His knowledge of affairs was wide and extensive. His cleverness and wit had made him famed far and wide. His occasional poems, written for sport and festivals, showed a genuine talent, almost a genius, for the poetic art. He was considered by all the very life and spirit of the younger Court set. A great future as a statesman and man of letters was predicted for him by everybody.
Now, however, since King Uzziah became so critically ill that his life was despaired of, this unexplainable change took place in Isaiah. He seemed to have quarreled with Prince Jotham, who had been reigning as king since Uzziah was smitten beyond hope of recovery, though both laughed at the rumor and denied it.
What proved the greatest surprise to all, was the fact that Isaiah often went to the Temple and talked earnestly with the priests. At times he would linger about the place long after the evening sacrifices had been offered and the priests had gone home. His jolly friends would make sport of him; but his more sober-minded companions became quite alarmed when, instead of displaying his usual good humor, he spoke with bitter sarcasm. His contagious laugh began to ring forced and hollow. He was morose and always ill at ease, as if he were laboring under a great strain that burdened his heart and mind.
King Uzziah's death was a lingering one. For many weeks reports from the sick chamber were to the effect that he was passing away, but he clung to life. Jerusalem had doffed its gala attire and the whole of Judah was prepared to go into mourning for its king. For a month or more the nobility and the Court had not indulged in any social functions, state or private. The Capital and the country were awaiting the royal funeral.
Uzziah had been a great king and a good ruler. He had done much for the whole country, and especially for the Capital. The mourning in Jerusalem and all through Judah was, therefore, genuine and sincere, when the king died. The pomp and ceremony that characterized the funeral procession were not mere royal show, but expressions of honor and deep regret of a loyal people for its beloved sovereign.
The young Isaiah was accorded an honored place in the long list of notables who followed the body of the king to its last resting place. He walked beside Jotham, his bosom friend; but did not accompany the new king on the return to the palace. In the slight confusion that followed after Uzziah had been "buried with his fathers," Isaiah slipped quietly away and took the road to the Temple Mount.
Taking his way through the Water Gate, on the west side of the Temple, he entered the Inner Court. Then he mounted the twelve steps leading to the vestibule of the Temple proper. Two priests, who had just come out of the chamber where the implements for sacrificing were kept, bowed low to him and passed out into the Inner Court. Isaiah was evidently so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice them, for he did not return their salute, but walked forward to the entrance of the Hekal, or Temple proper.
There he stood for a moment in silence; then he leaned wearily against one of the entrance pillars. Behind him the Priests' Hall and the Inner Court were deserted. Before him, in the Hekal, was the Altar of Incense, on which coals from the recent sacrifices were still alive. To the right of the Altar was the Menorah, the seven-light candlestick, and to the left the table of showbread. Behind these hung the golden curtains that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Temple.
A thin line of blue and purple smoke rose from the live coals on the Incense Altar and wound its way upward to the ceiling of the Hekal. As Isaiah watched the rising smoke, it became thicker and thicker, and filled the whole Temple. His eyes gazed from the Altar to the glittering gold curtains behind it. The reflection from the coals, and the playing of the blue and purple smoke on the golden sheets, caused them to sheen and shimmer until they faded entirely away into the blue and purple maze that filled the Hekal.
Isaiah was gazing right into the Holy of Holies, where no human eyes, except those of the High Priest, once a year, ever looked, and behold! he saw a most remarkable vision.
There, instead of the wooden Ark of the Covenant, he beheld a great and lofty throne on which was God, Himself. Instead of the two Cherubim of wood and gold, that surmounted the Ark, he beheld Seraphim, the fiery Angels, standing attendant before Him. Each of the Seraphim had six wings, with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet and with two he flew. And one cried unto another and said:
"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts, The whole earth is full of His glory."
Isaiah felt the very foundations of the threshold shake under him, at the sound of the calling. Covering his face with both hands, he cried out:
"Woe is me! I am undone. For I am a man of unclean lips. And I am dwelling among a people of unclean lips; Yet mine eyes have seen the King, the God of hosts."
Uncovering his face, he stretched out his hands towards the throne in mute appeal. Thereupon one of the Seraphim flew to the Altar and, with a pair of tongs, took from it a live coal. From the Altar the Seraph flew directly to Isaiah and, touching his mouth with the live coal, said:
"See, this has touched thy lips, Therefore thine iniquity is gone And thy sin forgiven."
Then Isaiah heard the voice of God Himself, saying:
"Whom shall I send, And who will go for us?"
Falling to his knees, and again stretching out his hands towards the throne, Isaiah answered:
"Here am I! Send me!"
Kneeling there, motionless, hardly breathing, his lips apart, his face expressing the fear and anguish that were in his heart, Isaiah heard the reply:
"Go and say to this people: Hear and hear again, but understand not; See and see again, but perceive not. Make fat the heart of this people, And their ears dull, and besmear their eyes, Lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears And their heart should understand and they be healed."
The force of this message struck Isaiah to the heart. He understood its meaning very well. It was terrible! It carried with it the sound of doom and the end of his nation. The very thought of it terrified him. Holding his head with both hands his back bent forward as under a heavy weight, until his face touched his knees upon the floor, he cried in heartbreaking tones:
"Lord! How long?"
And God answered him:
"Until the cities are in ruin without an inhabitant, And the houses without a human occupant, And the land become utterly desolate, And God hath sent the men far away, And in the midst of the land the deserted territory be great. And should there be a tenth in it, It must in turn be fuel for flame, Like the terebinth and the oak, Of which, after falling, but a stump remains."
For a long time after the voice had ceased speaking, Isaiah remained in the position in which he had listened to the last reply.
When, finally, in fear and trembling, he slowly raised his head, the vision had gone! Behind him the Priests' Hall and the Inner Court were deserted. Before him a thin line of blue and purple smoke rose from the live coals on the Incense Altar and wound its way upward to the ceiling of the Hekal.
Isaiah passed his hands over his eyes. For a moment he let his cool palm rest against his burning forehead. Then he slowly found his way out of the Temple and passed out into the silent night.
