Stories of the Prophets (Before the Exile) | Page 6

and the offenders bribed them to the undoing
of the poor and needy.
Strange to say, the Israelites, in whose midst there were those who
lived such scandalous lives and treated the poor people so
outrageously--the Israelites--nevertheless, believed in their hearts that
they had not forgotten God. They believed that God was with them;
that He loved them above all other peoples; that He guarded and
protected them; that He sent them all their blessings of prosperity and
peace.
This is the way they reasoned it out: Had not God helped them to defeat
Judah? Had not God been with them when they crushed their ancient
foe, Syria? Did not God send them rain in season, so that crops were
good and plentiful?
"Therefore," said they, "God is on our side. Let us go up to the
sanctuaries and offer sacrifices upon His altars."
And so, at festival times, Bethel and Gilgal, and Dan and Beersheba
were crowded with the rich, offering their sacrifices, feasting, drinking
and rejoicing. It never entered their minds that God is the God of the
poor, as well as of the rich. Though they continued to rob and oppress
and enslave the poor and the needy and the helpless, they were
perfectly satisfied with the idea that all God asked of them was to offer
the prescribed sacrifices. If there were any who knew differently, or
thought differently, they seemingly did not dare say so in anybody's
hearing. For the poor, these were, indeed, evil times.
At this point in his musings, the "farmer" actually shuddered. He was
not aware that his peculiar dress and his peculiar position at the
moment had attracted attention. While he was contrasting in his mind
the great difference between the rich and the poor in Samaria, several
men, having nothing better to do, had stopped to stare at the yokel. As
is always the case when people stand in the street and gawk, a large

crowd soon assembled. A military chariot stopped near the group of
curious gazers to see what was going on. Soon several others were
halted there, including gilded and gaudy litters, in which fashionably
dressed women were being conveyed. All stared, called each other's
attention to the queerly garbed stranger, and finally laughed outright.
The man who was the center of attraction became aware of the crowd
only when he had reached that point in his thoughts, the horrible
picture of which had made him shudder. When he noticed the crowd,
he gasped. He recovered from his astonishment quickly, however. He
opened his mantle, showing his gaunt, powerful form. He raised his
head and faced the crowd. His face, strong and sunburned, was tense
and drawn for a moment; then it relaxed. Deep lines, expressing severe
pain, were furrowed in his forehead.
The crowd, in turn, was astonished at the complete change that had
come over the "yokel." Before they recovered from their mistaken
opinion about the man, they saw him clinch his fists in determination
and heard his voice ring out clearly and distinctly, above the din of the
market place:
"Hear ye, Who turn justice to wormwood And cast down righteousness
to the earth; Who trample upon the poor And afflict the just; Who take
a bribe And thrust aside the needy in the gate: I know how manifold are
your transgressions, Saith the Lord, God of hosts, And how mighty
your sins, The end of my people Israel hath come, Saith the Lord, God
of hosts, I can no longer forgive."
This outspoken attack upon Samaria, its rich, and its military nobles,
was so extraordinary that it amazed the crowd. Having spoken, the
"farmer" turned away and was soon lost among the bazaars. Some
looked after him, astonished at his recklessness in laying himself open
to the revenge of the powers that be. Others looked after him, amazed
at his bravery and fearlessness.
That night many in Samaria had heard of the unknown stranger and his
speech in the market place. At many dinner tables the question was
asked:

"Who is this man who dares to lift his voice against the high and
powerful in behalf of the poor and downtrodden?"
"Who is this man who dares to proclaim the doom of the Kingdom of
Israel in the days of its greatest prosperity?"

CHAPTER III.
_The Man Who Dared._
There lived a man in the little town of Tekoah, in the Kingdom of
Judah, twelve miles south of Jerusalem, who made a living from
"dressing sycamore trees."
In ancient Palestine, the fruit of the sycamore that grew in Judah was
dried, ground into flour and used for making coarse bread. This bread
was eaten by the very poorest people, who could not afford to buy
wheat.
Now, the man who lived from gathering