📙 [EN] 2. Pre-reading2: Gerhard von Rad "The Message of the Prophets"

About  a century after Elijah, Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, and Micah appeared on the scene. If the source material for them is compared with that available for their predecessors, we finde that in the eighth century a new factor has emerged. The narrative form of report, which is only kind of source we have for Elijah and Elisha, markedly diminishes, and its place is taken by collections of disconnected sayings, speeches, poems. This difference in the way in which the account of the prophets` activity has been handed on forces us to give some consideration to the literary „form“ in which the memory of their work and preaching has ultimately come down to us, for upon this largely depends the theological evaluation of later ages. 

Like the historical tradition, the prophetic corpus lies before us in what are, to some extent, very shapeless collections of traditional material, arranged with almost no regard for content or chronological order, and apparently quite unawear of the laws with which we are familiar in the development of European literature.

Ezekiel is the first to give us the benefit of an arrangement according to a chronology based on the time at which the oracles were delivered. Nevertheless, within this vast body of material a differentiation, at once simple and at the same time of great theological importance, is immediately forced upon the reader`s notice. This is the distinction between passages in poetry and passages in prose. While there are exceptions, the prophets` own way of speaking is, as a rule, in poetry: that is to say, it is speech characterized by rhythm and parallelism.

In contrast, passages in which they are not themselves speakers but are the subjects of report, are in prose. There are thus two ways in which the prophets made their contribution to the literature of the Old Testament, or at at any rate to the traditions contained in it; on the one hand there are narratives or collections of narratives which tell of what they did, and on the other oracles or collections of oracles which they themselves delivered.

Accordingly there are two reasons why they attracted the attention both of their own contemporaries and of those who came after them. One was the content of their preaching; the other was there circumstances of their appearance, the conflicts in which they were involved, the Miracles they performed, and their particular encounters with particular people. In cases where both what a prophet himself said and what was reported about him are preserved, it is obviously not always possible to harmonize the accounts, for the point of view of a narrator who sees the prophet involved in them tensions and dramas of public life may be different from that of a group of disciples whose sole interest was to record in correct form oracles whose historical context has been forgotten. This explains, for example, the marked dissimilarity between the picture of isaiah given in the stories told about him (Isa. 36- 39) and that conveyed by his own oracles.

The former is much closer to the popular estimate of him, and scarcely any indication of the enormous intellectual sweep of his preaching as reflected in the oracles. It must also be self-evident that of these two forms of prophetic literature, that of the report is the earlier. Time, some degree of familiarity with the phenomenon of Prophecy itself, and some education into a more spiritual outlook were all needed before it became possible to collect only the prophets` bare words, and to view them in detachment from their historical context, and evaluate them on their own intrinsic merits.

1. The first stage was undoubtedly that stories were told about the prophets, and in this respect the stories about Elisha give the impression of coming from a distant past. On the other hand, the very considerations just noticed should warn us against allowing these popular miracle stories to lead us into forming too naїve a picture of this prophet as he really was. He gave formal lectures to disciples (II kings 4: 38; 6.1). If we had a collection of his lectures or his sayings, our picture of him might well be different. The same would be true of Elijah.

By the time of Amos, however, people had learned to take a Prophet`s words by themselves and to write them down. This meant that the center of gravity in the prophetic tradition now moved from the story told about the prophet to the collection and transmission of his sayings. This development did not, however, lead to disappearance of the custom of telling stories about the prophets, or indeed, to any decline in such a practice. This literary category still remained influential, for when she came to a more spiritual understanding of Prophecy, Israel never went so far, in the interest of reducing the prophetic message to its ideal truths, as to sever it from its original roots in concrete events. On the contrary, she never ceased to see each of the prophets in his own historical situation, either as one who initiated historical movements or as one who was crushed to powder in the conflicts of History. The largest number of stories about a prophet is to be found in the book of Jeremiah, which is comparatively late. When we come to it, we shall have to consider the importance of these as a supplement to Jeremiah's own oracles.

In reading the prophets today we must, of course, realize that what chiefly interests us, biographical detail, imports into these stories viewpoint which is foreign to them themselves. Even the idea of "prophetic personalities" which so readily comes to our minds is very far from being what the sources themselves offer us. In all probability, the writers were much less concerned then we imagine to portray a prophet as a "personality", that is to say, as a unique human being who possessed special qualities of mind and Spirit.

The same is true of interest in biographical detail. We can even feel that the sources are opposed to any attempt to write "lives" of the prophets. Had the writer of Amos 7.1off. had any intention of giving information about Amos`s own life, he would never have ended his account as he does, and have failed to inform the reader whether or not the prophet complied with the deportation order. If the store is to be read as a fragment taken from a biography, they only possible verdict on such an ending is "unsatisfactory". Amos is here only described from the point of view of his being a prophet, that is to say, as the holder of an office, and because of this the writer had no interest beyond describing the clash between the bearer of a charisma and the high priest, and recording the oracle of doom to which this gave rise.

The stories about Elijah, Elisha, and Isaiah also provide examples both of a similar lack of interest in biographical detail and of a concentration upon how a prophet acted in virtue of his calling. A change comes about with Jeremiah. Jeremiah the man and his Via Dolorosa are now really described for their own sake. This, however, is closely connected with the fact that with Jeremiah prophecy entered upon a critical phase of its existence, and that a new concept of a prophet was beginning to appear. Probably the first to realize that suffering was to be regarded as an integral part of prophet`s service was Baruch. There was more to being a prophet than mare speaking. Baruch saw a completely new aspect of the office. Not only the prophet`s lips but also his whole being were absorbed in the service of Prophecy.

Consequently, when the prophet`s life entered the vale of deep suffering and abandonment by God, this became a unique kind of witness-bearing. Yet even this does not mean that in narrative portions of Jeremiah the account of the prophet`s life is given for its own sake. It is given because in his case his life had been absorbed into his vocation as a prophet, and made and integral part of the vocation itself. But, as I have already stressed, this insight was only reached after some time and must therefore be dealt with at a later stage.

Prophecy ultimately employed the 'messenger formula' as the most direct means of expressing its function. But since from its very first appearance in Israel there were more kinds of prophecy than one, it is practically impossible to point to any single basic 'form' of prophetic speech and to identify it, from the point of view of form criticism, as prophecy's original starting-point' Yet, even though the 'messenger formula' cannot be taken as this, it should be considered first, since it persists as a constant factor in all OT prophecy from Elisha to Malachi, and is, too, the most consistently used of all the many different prophetic literary categories.

As everyone knows, it was a common custom in the ancient world for a messenger with some announcement to make to discharge his errand when he came into the recipient's presence, by speaking in the first person, the form in which the message had been given to himself; that is to say, he completely submerged his own ego and spoke as if he were his master himself speaking to the other. Examples of this entirely secular use of the 'messenger formula' introduced by the words 'thus says so and so' are still to be found within the Old Testament itself.   This is the form which the prophets used more frequently than any other to deliver their messages, and the fact is important for the understanding of their own conception of their role. They saw themselves as ambassadors, as the messengers of Yahweh.

As a rule, however, the prophets prefaced this messenger formula with another form of words whose purpose was to draw the recipient's attention to the message and which, indeed, gave the first precise designation of those for whom it was intended. In the case of a divine threat, what was prefixed was a 'diatribe', in the case of a promise, an 'exhortation'. These two, the messenger formula and the prefaced clause, must both be present before we have the literary category 'prophetic oracle'. To understand the category, we must remember that down to the time of Jeremiah, with whom there is a change, the prophets always made a clear distinction between the messenger formula and the diatribe or exhortation which introduced it. The former alone was the direct word of God: the other was a human word whose purpose was to lead up to and prepare the way for God's word and give it its reference. The divine word was, of course, primary in point of time: this was what came to the prophet in a moment of inspiration, to be passed on to those whom it concerned. This the prophet did by prefixing to it a diatribe which identified the people addressed. What makes the inner connection between diatribe and threat is the characteristic 'therefore', justifying the latter and leading on to the words 'Thus hath Yahweh spoken'.

But the messenger formula, frequent though it is, is still only one among many forms used by the prophets in their preaching' In fact, they showed no hesitation in availing themselves of all manner of forms in which to clothe their message. None, secular and sacred alike, was safe from appropriation as a vessel for the discharge of his task by one prophet or another. What these men wanted to do, of course, was to attract attention: indeed sometimes, as when, for example, they laid violent hands on some timehallowed sacral form of expression, their express intention was to shock their audience. Thus their utterances can be couched as a priestly direction concerning sacrifice (Isa. 1.16f.; Amos 5.21ff.), as a cultic hymn, or as a pronouncement in a court of law.   DeuteroIsaiah took the priestly oracle of salvation and reshaped it into something more sweeping and made it the 'form' of his preaching. His well-known phrases, 'Fear not, I have chosen you, redeemed you, I call you by name, you are mine' (Isa. 41.10ff.; 43.1f.; 44.1f.; etc.) are modelled on the liturgical language used by the priest in the cult in response to an individual prayer of lamentation (Isa. 41.10ff.; 43.1f.; 44.1f.; etc.). In other cases the message was clothed in the form used by the teachers of wisdom (Isa. 28.23ff.; Amos 3-3ff.), or of a popular song (Isa. 5.1ff.). The best example of the changes which these literary categories underwent at the hands of the prophets, who sometimes even expanded them into really grotesque shapes, is the dirge: the later prophets actually parodied it.   Exegesis has therefore to be particularly careful here, because a great deal depends on correct determination of 'form', and in particular on the correct delimitation of the beginning and end of the unit under discussion. To add a verse from the unit which follows, or to omit one which properly belongs to the close of an oracle, can alter the whole meaning.

The form in which a particular message is cast is also important in a still stricter sense of the word 'form', for a 'form' is never just something external, concerned with literary style alone; in the last resort, form cannot be separated from content. What determined the choice of the form was primarily the subject-matter of the message. But the content of the prophetic preaching could not possibly be housed in any traditional form — not even a specifically prophetic — for it completely transcended the whole of Israel's previous knowledge of Yahweh. The very nature of the subjectmatter itself demanded nothing short of a bold method of expression — it was always, so to speak, ad hoc improvization — simply because the prophets' message thrust out at every side beyond each and all of Israel's sacral institutions, the cult, law, and the monarchy. In the same way, the very nature of prophecy also demanded the right to make use of what were entirely secular forms with exactly the same freedom as with religious ones, as if there were no difference at all between them, for ultimately prophecy moved In a direction which transcended the old distinctions : when it prophesied judgment, it also announced the end of the established sacral order, and when it foretold salvation, it spoke increasingly of a state of affairs in which all life would be ordered, determined, and sustained by Yahweh. This would, of course, result in the removal of the old distinction between sacral and secular.

2. Prophecy ultimately employed the 'messenger formula' as the most direct means of expressing its function. But since from its very first appearance in Israel there were more kinds of prophecy than one, it is practically impossible to point to any single basic 'form' of prophetic speech and to identify it, from the point of view of form criticism, as prophecy's original starting-point' Yet, even though the 'messenger formula' cannot be taken as this, it should be considered first, since it persists as a constant factor in all OT prophecy from Elisha to Malachi, and is, too, the most consistently used of all the many different prophetic literary categories.

As everyone knows, it was a common custom in the ancient world for a messenger with some announcement to make to discharge his errand when he came into the recipient's presence, by speaking in the first person, the form in which the message had been given to himself; that is to say, he completely submerged his own ego and spoke as if he were his master himself speaking to the other. Examples of this entirely secular use of the 'messenger formula' introduced by the words 'thus says so and so' are still to be found within the Old Testament itself.   This is the form which the prophets used more frequently than any other to deliver their messages, and the fact is important for the understanding of their own conception of their role. They saw themselves as ambassadors, as the messengers of Yahweh.

As a rule, however, the prophets prefaced this messenger formula with another form of words whose purpose was to draw the recipient's attention to the message and which, indeed, gave the first precise designation of those for whom it was intended. In the case of a divine threat, what was prefixed was a 'diatribe', in the case of a promise, an 'exhortation'. These two, the messenger formula and the prefaced clause, must both be present before we have the literary category 'prophetic oracle'. To understand the category, we must remember that down to the time of Jeremiah, with whom there is a change, the prophets always made a clear distinction between the messenger formula and the diatribe or exhortation which introduced it. The former alone was the direct word of God: the other was a human word whose purpose was to lead up to and prepare the way for God's word and give it its reference. The divine word was, of course, primary in point of time: this was what came to the prophet in a moment of inspiration, to be passed on to those whom it concerned. This the prophet did by prefixing to it a diatribe which identified the people addressed. What makes the inner connection between diatribe and threat is the characteristic 'therefore', justifying the latter and leading on to the words 'Thus hath Yahweh spoken'.

But the messenger formula, frequent though it is, is still only one among many forms used by the prophets in their preaching' In fact, they showed no hesitation in availing themselves of all manner of forms in which to clothe their message. None, secular and sacred alike, was safe from appropriation as a vessel for the discharge of his task by one prophet or another. What these men wanted to do, of course, was to attract attention: indeed sometimes, as when, for example, they laid violent hands on some timehallowed sacral form of expression, their express intention was to shock their audience. Thus their utterances can be couched as a priestly direction concerning sacrifice (Isa. 1.16f.; Amos 5.21ff.), as a cultic hymn, or as a pronouncement in a court of law.   DeuteroIsaiah took the priestly oracle of salvation and reshaped it into something more sweeping and made it the 'form' of his preaching. His well-known phrases, 'Fear not, I have chosen you, redeemed you, I call you by name, you are mine' (Isa. 41.10ff.; 43.1f.; 44.1f.; etc.) are modelled on the liturgical language used by the priest in the cult in response to an individual prayer of lamentation (Isa. 41.10ff.; 43.1f.; 44.1f.; etc.). In other cases the message was clothed in the form used by the teachers of wisdom (Isa. 28.23ff.; Amos 3-3ff.), or of a popular song (Isa. 5.1ff.). The best example of the changes which these literary categories underwent at the hands of the prophets, who sometimes even expanded them into really grotesque shapes, is the dirge: the later prophets actually parodied it.   Exegesis has therefore to be particularly careful here, because a great deal depends on correct determination of 'form', and in particular on the correct delimitation of the beginning and end of the unit under discussion. To add a verse from the unit which follows, or to omit one which properly belongs to the close of an oracle, can alter the whole meaning.

The form in which a particular message is cast is also important in a still stricter sense of the word 'form', for a 'form' is never just something external, concerned with literary style alone; in the last resort, form cannot be separated from content. What determined the choice of the form was primarily the subject-matter of the message. But the content of the prophetic preaching could not possibly be housed in any traditional form — not even a specifically prophetic — for it completely transcended the whole of Israel's previous knowledge of Yahweh. The very nature of the subjectmatter itself demanded nothing short of a bold method of expression — it was always, so to speak, ad hoc improvization — simply because the prophets' message thrust out at every side beyond each and all of Israel's sacral institutions, the cult, law, and the monarchy. In the same way, the very nature of prophecy also demanded the right to make use of what were entirely secular forms with exactly the same freedom as with religious ones, as if there were no difference at all between them, for ultimately prophecy moved In a direction which transcended the old distinctions : when it prophesied judgment, it also announced the end of the established sacral order, and when it foretold salvation, it spoke increasingly of a state of affairs in which all life would be ordered, determined, and sustained by Yahweh. This would, of course, result in the removal of the old distinction between sacral and secular.

3. The separate units consisting of oracles or songs were very soon gathered together into little complexes. Whether such 'divans' were arranged by the prophet himself or by his disciples, is for the most part unknown. Although our information about such possible disciples is limited, present-day criticism is certainly right in crediting them with an important part in the collection and transmission of the prophets' teaching. Thus Isaiah 5.8-24 consists of a series of oracles each beginning with the words 'Woe to', which we may be sure were no more delivered consecutively than were those in Matthew 23.13ff. — the connection is editorial. The same is true of Jeremiah's oracles agamst the false prophets (Jer. 23-9ff.), or the royal house (Jer. 21.11—23.8). In the complex made up of Isaiah 6.9— 9.6 the editor grouped on chronological grounds, for, apart from the prophet's call which stands at the beginning, the oracles and the incidents dealt with date from the time of the Syro-Ephraimitic war. Ezekiel 4—5 is a collection of the prophet's so-called symbolic actions.   In many cases, however, there is no recognizable principle of arrangement. This is particularly true of the formation of more elaborate complexes, that is to say, where it is a case of the collection of collections. Almost all the help we have towards insight into how this redactional process progressed are a few headings within the prophetic books.

For all the immense range of the prophetic tradition, there are really only three passages, two in Isaiah (8.16-18; 30.8-17) and one in Jeremiah (36), which describe in somewhat greater detail how the prophet's message was put into written form and handed on. Yet, so many are the conclusions which they allow concerning the nature of the prophets' teaching in general, and of the prophets' own conception of that teaching, that they must be considered here, however briefly. 

'I will bind up the testimony, seal the teaching among my disciples, and will wait for Yahweh, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in him. Behold, I and the children whom Yahweh has given me are signs and portents from Yahweh of hosts, who dwells on Mount Zion' (Isa. 8.16-18).

Isaiah 6.1—9.6 deals with the stirring events of the SyroEphraimitic war, and records the threats, warnings, and promises which Isaiah delivered at that time. To our surprise, however, right in the middle of these, the prophet suddenly speaks of himself, and directs the reader's thoughts to his own person and to a group of people gathered round him. But the particular situation revealed in the passage at once makes the whole thing clear. The prophet is to 'seal' and 'bind up' his 'teaching' in just the same way as we record something in the minutes and then have the document officially put into safe keeping. The words can therefore only mean that at the time when Isaiah wrote them down, he thought of himself as discharged from office. The glimpse here given of his thoughts and expectations on his withdrawal from his first public activity makes the passage unique indeed. He has delivered the message that was given him. The rest lies in the hands of Yahweh who — as Isaiah is perfectly sure — will follow what his ambassador has revealed by word with his own revelation in action. The message tore open a deep gulf in the nation. It made it obdurate (Isa. 6.9f.), and made Yahweh himself a snare to his people (Isa. 8.14); and yet, by a tremendous paradox, it is on this very God who has hidden his face from the house of Israel that Isaiah sets his hope. 

What confidence in face of the absence of faith! But the surprise is rather that the message actually brought faith forth, even if only within a very narrow circle. Thus, even when Isaiah withdraws into the anonymity of civil life, he still remains of importance as a sign — the narrow circle of the faithful is the surety that Yahweh is still at work and that he has not abandoned his purpose in history. Significantly enough, these purposes Isaiah regarded as, in the last analysis, good: otherwise, how could he have 'placed his hope' in the coming revelation of Yahweh in person? In this connection, although the prophet's words about 'binding' and 'sealing' his message are only figurative and allusive, Isaiah presumably did in actual fact go on to make a written record of all he had said up to the time when he was relieved of office, and — also presumably — this record forms the first point of crystallization of the book of Isaiah.

'Now go and write it before them on a tablet and inscribe it in a book, that it may be for a time to come as a witness for ever, for they are a rebellious people, lying sons who will not hear the instruction of Yahweh. . Therefore thus says the Holy One of Israel, "Because you have despised this word, and trust in oppression and perverseness, and rely on them; therefore this iniquity shall be to you like a break in a high wall, bulging out and about to collapse, whose crash comes suddenly, in an instant." . For thus said the Lord Yahweh, the Holy One of Israel, "In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust is your strength". But you would not . . . ' (Isa. 30.8-15).

This passage, which comes from the latter period of Isaiah's life, makes the transition of prophecy from oral proclamation to its reduction to writing, that is to say, to the second, the literary, form of its existence, still clearer. Here the prophet is no ambassador. He is not to go out, but is to 'go into' his house, and he is not to speak, but to write 'for a time to come'. The situation is clearly the same as that in Isa. 8.16ff. The message has been delivered. Once again a phase of the prophet's work has come to an end, and once again it has resulted in failure. Isaiah had not succeeded in kindling faith; his hearers were far too preoccupied with political projects to listen. Indeed, things were even worse. They 'would not' do so, and deliberately decided against Yahweh and his pleading. And this time there are no comfortable words about a small group of disciples. The atmosphere is much more laden with rejection than it was on the other occasion. A far deeper darkness enfolds the prophet. In one respect the passage goes much further than Isa. 8, for it shows the decision against Yahweh and his pleading as one which has already been taken. This is important for the message of Isaiah, or this is one of the very few places where the prophet himself recapitulates the essential content of that message in one or two words and summarizes the ideas. His wish had been to move people to turn to Yahweh, and to seek security in his protection, and to find confidence and ‘calm’. As it was, since they have rejected it all, it will be their lot to lose all stability, as Isaiah so magnificently depicts it in the picture of a wall suddenly bulging out and collapsing.

‘Why does the prophet write down his message as а ‘testament’, as it is generally called? How far it is intended for ‘а time to come’? What he thought of initially was certainly the fulfilment of his threat. Those who came after him would be able to see in retrospect that his prophetic word had been no empty one. It may also well be that, as he made the record, his thoughts ranged considerably wider than the immediate fulfilment. His own generation was written off — ‘suddenly, in an instant’, ruin would overtake it. Yet, even if the fate he foretold for it actually came to pass, this was after all only one part of his prophetic message. The promise of blessing it contained, its invitation to seek security in the protection of Yahweh, also remained valid. Though one generation turns а deaf еаг to it, it does not fail. Yahweh does not abandon his purposes: the only difference is that these now reach forward to a more distant future in the nation’s history, and for this reason the message required to be written down.

What gives the passage its great interest is that it shows how in certain circumstances the prophet broke the connection between his words and their original hearers and, without the slightest alteration, carried the message over to apply to hearers and readers of a more distant future. At the time when Isaiah wrote down his preaching, possibly after 701, history had certainly overtaken some of his prophecies. Looked at from the point of view of their obvious and immediate fulfilment, they had apparently failed. This was not, however, a reason for regarding them as things of the past, for they retained their significance for more than merely the time to which they were addressed initially. Nor was it any more a reason for altering their content or recasting them to suit their new recipients. The same thing had happened with Hosea.

When it was originally delivered, his whole message was directed to the then northern kingdom. But sometime later very slight editing — the insertion of the name ‘Judah’ at several places — gave it a new address, to the southern kingdom. It was never presumed that the prophet’s oracles were addressed to one set of people and one only, and were thereafter to be wrapped up in their rolls and deposited among the records. There must have been people who never forgot that а prophet’s teaching always remained relevant for a coming day and generation, and who themselves played their part in making it appear relevant — in many cases their work can be clearly seen in the various secondary additions which they made. A clearer instance than most, showing what took place during the process of transmission, is the relationship of Trito-Isaiah to Deutero-Isaiah. The former’s dependence upon the latter is so striking that it has been correctly assumed that their relationship was one of master and pupil. But the situation in which the younger man voiced the elder’s words was very different from that in which they had first been coined; and, consequently, the master’s sayings were radically modified. In the first phase of his activity Jeremiah, too, is a disciple — of Hosea. Again, scholars long ago marked off a large section of prose passages in his book whose diction and theological ideas approximate very closely to the tradition associated with Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomists. Obviously, we have here а characteristic reshaping by а second hand of material belonging to Jeremiah, though we do not, of course, know who was responsible for it or why he acted as he did.

Baruch’s long, detailed account of how Jeremiah’s preaching was set down in writing, and of the several readings of the roll, parallels the two passages from Isaiah discussed above to the extent that it describes the transition from oral preaching to written word. But it goes much further in that it tells of the strange fate which overtook the book. Like Isaiah, Jeremiah derived the order to make a written record from Yahweh’s express command: what, however, is significant is the purpose of this undertaking as revealed in the account (Jer. 36). It was a final attempt to move Israel to repentance, and so to make it possible for Yahweh to forgive her. But this is only the introduction to the account of the book’s fate once it had been produced. Baruch shows great artistry as he leads up to the climax. He tells how the roll was read three times. The first occasion is fairly lightly touched on. This was a public reading during а fast before Yahweh in 605. The second reading, held in the secretary of state’s office in the presence of the chief state officials, is given a fuller description. The audience then was alarmed at what they heard; they cross-examined Baruch, and the roll itself was put into ‘official safe-custody’. While there was marked goodwill towards Baruch personally, the matter itself had to be reported to the king. What a consummate artist Baruch is as he thus prepares the way for the climax of his story! What is the king’s attitude going to be? For his decision will determine whether the whole people — not just he himself — are to stand or fall. Now the story gives а detailed account. The king is in the winter-house, sitting beside the brazier, with his ministers around him. Yet in the end it is not he who is the centre of interest, but the roll itself, ‘which he cuts up and throws piece by piece into the fire. Thereupon Jeremiah dictates his preaching to Baruch anew, and makes the second roll more comprehensive still than the first.

The story is unique in the Old Testament, since its subject is neither а person, nor an act of Yahweh’s providence or appointment, but a book. But the book’s fortunes epitomize the fortunes of the message it contained. Once more the motif is that of the great failure, which Jeremiah plays with his own particular variations. We might therefore almost speak of а ‘passion’ undergone by the book as well as by its author. At one point, however, the parallel with Jeremiah’s own via dolorosa breaks down. The scroll is torn and burnt, but it is renewed. Yahweh’s word does not allow itself to be brought to naught.

These three passages show, of course, only the first step in the formation of tradition, that from oral proclamation to written record, a step sometimes taken by the prophets themselves. This was, however, a long way from the final stage in the process of making а permanent record of а prophet’s message; instead, it ought to be called only its beginning. As we have already seen, a prophet’s preaching was not restricted to its original audience. As Israel journeyed through time, the message accompanied her, even if the historical circumstances to which it had originally been spoken had changed in the interval. The basic conviction underlying the process of tradition was that, once a prophet’s word had been uttered, it could never in any circumstances become void. The time when, and the way by which, it reached fulfilment were Yahweh’s concern; man’s part was to see that the word was handed on. And we must notice particularly that even the prophecies which had plainly found their historical goal, and had thus clearly been fulfilled, were retained as prophecies which concerned Israel and could always have fresh meaning extracted from them.

A particularly revealing instance of this centuries-long incessant process of continual reinterpretation of tradition is furnished by the so-called Nathan prophecy (II Sam. 7). Verses 11 and 16 show what is perhaps the oldest strand, a prophecy aimed directly at David himself. Compared with it, the ideas expressed in vv. 12a, 14-16 are later — the advance in point of time comes out in the interest shown in ‘the son after you, who shall come forth from your body’, when David ‘will have lain down with his fathers’; the point is now Yahweh's relationship to David’s descendants. Then, considerably later, the Deuteronomistic theology of history connected this whole prophecy with Solomon’s building of the temple (v. 13), while later still Deutero-Isaiah severed the tie with the house of David and applied the saying to Israel as a whole (Isa. 55.3f.). Even after this, the old reference of the promise to the seed of David himself is not wide enough for the Chronicler: he speaks of ‘the seed which shall come forth from thy sons’, and thus adds a further stage in the prophecy’s scope (I Chron. 17.11). In this way an oracle first spoken in the long distant past continued to have a present message considerably later than the exile.

The way in which tradition mounts and grows can be closely followed in the prophetic writings. Exegesis must be less ready than at present to look on this infusion of new blood into the prophetic tradition as ‘spurious’ or an unhappy distortion of the original. The process is in reality a sign of the living force with which the old message was handed on and adapted to new situations. Adaptation was in some cases effected by adding threats against foreign nations which had meantime come within е orbit of Israel’s history. Thus, for example, the very old prophecy of Balaam was finally even made to refer to the Greeks (Num. 24.24). In Isaiah 23 a few later additions made an earlier oracle against Sidon refer to Tyre. To the Messianic prophecy of Isa. 11.1ff. was added in а later day v.10, and it was applied to the Gentile world, and was taken up by Paul in this reinterpreted form (Rom. 15.12). In just the same way the Messianic prophecy in Amos passed over into the New Testament in its less restricted LXX version (Acts 15.16f.: ‘Adam’; Amos 9.12: ‘Edom’). In Isa. 9.11, Isaiah spoke of Aram and the Philistines; the LXX applies the saying to Syria and the Greeks.

When, however, in the course of adaptation of this kind an old oracle is converted into its opposite — when, for instance, an oracle of judgment is made into one of salvation — doubts begin to arise, at least for the modern reader. Isaiah proclaimed ‘woe’ to the Egyptians, ‘the nation tall and smooth, feared near and far’, and threatened them with destruction (Isa. 18.1-6). But as it now stands, the oracle goes on to prophesy that ‘at that time’ gifts will be brought to Yahweh from ‘the people tall and smooth, feared near and far’ (v. 7). Yet even such а conversion of an older message of judgment into one of salvation is not the plagiarism, on principle illegitimate, of а later writer who is himself devoid of inspiration. There is in the Isaiah text a genuine sense of continuity, and a genuine belief that authority has been given to reinterpret an earlier oracle, even if in opposite terms, because of the very different historical situation. The very fact that oracles are so often inverted in this way compels us to regard it as а perfectly normal and theologically legitimate procedure. For example, in the composite passage Isaiah 22.15-25 three stages of growth stand out in clear relief. In the first section, vv. 15-18, the wrath of Yahweh and of the prophet himself were poured out on Shebna, one of the chief officials of Judah. He shall not some day be laid to rest in his newly hewn tomb. Yahweh will toss his mummified corpse into a foreign land as if it were a ball. This is the end of the oracle spoken by Isaiah himself, but it continues:

‘I will thrust you from your office and cast you down from your station.

This will come to pass on the day when I call Eliakim the son of Hilkiah my servant.

I will clothe him with your robe,

and bind your girdle on him, and commit your authority to his hand,

that he may be a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and to the house of Judah.

And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David;

when he opens, none shall shut, and when he shuts, none shall open.

 I will fasten him like а peg in а sure place,

and he will become а throne of honour to his father’s house’ (Isa. 22.19-23).

The very change in the style — there is а sudden transition to the first person singular — betrays that a fresh start had been made. In addition, v. 19a makes а poor transition: Shebna has already been rejected, and talk about his dismissal is out of place. The centre of interest is now Shebna’s successor, Eliakim, and his installation in office (the few verses are a veritable gold-mine for information about the ceremonial language in use at the court). But there was something else to be said about Eliakim, and it was something which was quite unknown at the time of his appointment. This brings us to the third phase in the development of the Shebna texts.

'And the whole weight of his father's house will hang upon him, the offspring and the issue, every small vessel, every cup and flagon. In that day, says Yahweh of hosts, the peg fastened in a sure place will give way, it will break off and fall down, and the burden that is upon it will be destroyed, for Yahweh has said so' (Isa. 22.24-5).

This expansion hinges on the 'peg' of v. 23, but understands the metaphor in a completely different way. Eliakim is certainly to be a peg, for all his kinsmen are to hang upon him. Therefore, what happens to a peg on which too many pots and pieces of kitchen-ware are hung will also happen to him. He will give way, and the whole collection will be smashed to pieces on the floor. A delightful satire on the nepotism of highly placed officials!

This way of dealing with traditions brings us up against a hermeneutic problem which can only be noticed briefly here. If a prophet's words thus accompanied Israel on her journey through history, and if they retained their character as addresses to her even long after the time of their original delivery, later ages must have felt themselves at liberty to reinterpret them freely, for the only way in which the word reaches those to whom it was later addressed was by 'adaptation' of its content. Present-day exegesis is concerned above all else to discover the content of each specific oracle as it was understood by the prophet himself. But, while not abandoning this effort, ought it not perhaps to be more aware that this is only one possible way among many of understanding an oracle? By being referred to subsequent generations and the situations confronting them, fresh possible ways of taking the prophet's oracles were opened up, and this process continued right down to the time when, in the New Testament, the prophets' preaching was for the last time reinterpreted in the light of present events. Ought we not also to remember that when a prophecy came into the hands of those who transmitted the traditions, this itself meant that the time when the prophecy could be taken in the strict sense which it had when it was originally delivered was already a thing of the past?

The prophets themselves believed that their calling, to which we shall now turn, confronted them with a range of tasks and duties. We may, indeed, quite properly speak of the prophetic 'office' consisting on the one hand of binding commitments and on the other of liberties and powers. Of course, since this is a very general term, it will have to be more precisely defined as we proceed, for we cannot presume that each and every prophet held an identical view of it. There were very many shades of difference indeed, of which only a few can be noticed in what follows. Not only did the prophets' own conception of their office clearly change, it was also possible for a prophet even to come into conflict With his office: a further cause of conflict might be where the prophet's definition of his office differed from the ideas of others. For example, in the case of Isaiah, the idea of his office which he himself held was not at all the same as the one which forms the background of the stories told about him in chs. 36—39. The latter version is determined by the narrator's own idea of it. In principle, behind every prophetic tradition and behind even the most insignificant mention, lies a well-defined idea of what constitutes a prophet and his office. If scholarship had a still keener awareness than it has of these questions, its eyes would be much more open to the enormous variety in the idea of what a prophet was.

1. As the result of a new understanding of the cult, the question has recently been asked whether even the prophets were not much more closely connected with this institution than was once thought possible and, on the basis of what is in some degree a very original interpretation of evidence both inside and outside the Old Testament, the view has been put forward that the majority of the prophets mentioned in the Old Testament were official spokesmen of the cult, and were therefore members of the cultic personnel of the sanctuaries.

It has never been doubted that the prophets liked to pay visits to sanctuaries, both because great numbers of pilgrims resorted to them and also because the catchwords and the points to which they could link their oracles were given them in the religious excitement of the crowds, who would only be met with in such numbers at these shrines. This in itself, however, is no reason for talking about 'cult-prophets'. It may also be taken for granted that an evergrowing number of bands of prophetic 'enthusiasts' were present at the sanctuaries during festivals. These sometimes made such a nuisance of themselves to the priests that special means of supervising them had actually to be set up (Jer. 29.24ff.). But the real question is this — were the prophets members of the cultic personnel in the narrow sense of the term, that is, as its authorized spokesmen? In the case of pre-classical prophecy, it is extremely difficult to give any clear answer, for the simple reason that the material which has come down to us is so scanty. Moreover, we tend to look on this early stage of the prophetic movement as much more uniform than it was in fact. Elisha's station in life was obviously quite different from Elijah's: and both these prophets are clearly very different again from such a man as Nathan. The ecstatics mentioned in I Sam. 10.10f. came from a shrine, but it is difficult to believe that they themselves held a cultic office there. The same is true of the group which gathered round Elisha, and in an even greater degree of Elijah also. No doubt Elijah offered sacrifice on occasion (I Kings 18.30ff.), but this proves nothing, for at that time any Israelite could do the same.

The picture changes when we also recognize the fairly firmly rooted idea that at least one main function of the prophet was intercession. ^l Since, so far as we can see, this was requested on occasions of public emergency and therefore concerned 'Israel', the prophet must at that time have been regarded as in fact a duly authorized spokesman of the whole body of the people. It is also perfectly possible that such intercession by a prophet was sometimes made in the solemn context of an official act of worship. It may be, too, that on such occasions he delivered oracles against foreign nations and called down curses against particular enemies. There is also reason to believe that prophets of a certain kind had an important role assigned them in warfare — it was they who gave the command to attack (I Kings 20.13f., 22, 28; 22.6, 12, 15, Il Kings 3.16f. 6.9). Further, the official ultimatum issued to the neighbours of a people against whom Israel was waging war and to the aliens resident in its midst, warning them to flee from the threatened region (I Sam. 15.6), was a matter for the prophets. Here, too, the prophets are seen as authorized spokesmen of the whole body of the people, in the context of an event which was at that time still regarded as sacral and cultic.

These and other facts show that in the ninth century the prophets were still in various ways incorporated within the official cult. At the same time, however, it is impossible to imagine that their function was as much subject to rules and regulations as that of the priests. For another thing, their office was not hereditary but charismatic, and therefore a priori on a different footing. Again, is it entirely without significance that Deuteronomy gives regulations for the revenues of the priests and levites, but that nothing of the kind occurs in connection with those of the prophets? Further, the fact that women are quite naturally spoken of as prophets (Ex. 15.20; Il Kings 22.14; Neh. 6.14), whereas the idea of women priests was quite inconceivable, rather militates against the thesis of cultic prophets.

Nevertheless, it is clear that there were still large numbers of such temple prophets as late as the time of Jeremiah, and, most probably, they came forward as the spokesmen both of Yahweh and the people. However, the prophets who have been called the 'writing prophets', Amos, Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah, and the rest of them, were not of their number, as their bitter attacks on these cult prophets makes abundantly clear. They were instead members of a radical wing which increasingly declared its independence from the operation of the official cult.^[1] Proof of this must, of course, be drawn primarily from the content of their preaching and their general outlook, but it can also be demonstrated in the very forms which they used. These are characterized by the extreme boldness of their newly-minted rhetorical devices and of the comparisons they employed, which they chose solely to scandalize and startle the people who heard them, by the way in which so often they couched their messages in completely secular literary forms — selected ad hoc and subsequently abandoned -- and in particular by the incredible variety of forms they used in their preaching, ranging over the whole field of expression then available. Such improvisation was quite unknown in the cultic sphere where all utterance, be it of God or of man, was regulated by convention and standardization. Moreover, there was no place in the cult for the idea that Yahweh would enter into judgment with his own people.^[2] These quick transitions which the great prophets make from form to form are, however, merely the symptom of a radical process which was at work in the very heart of their preaching. This was a totally new understanding of God, of Israel, and of the world, which the prophets each in turn cumulatively developed to a degree which went far beyond anything that there had ever been in the past. Our main reason, however, for thinking that the prophets were much more independent than those who held a fixed office in the organized life of a sanctuary comes from the accounts of their calls, and to these we must now turn.

2. The Old Testament often tells of how a prophet was called to his office. The accounts all come from a comparatively short period of time in Israel's history, the period of the Monarchy. This shows both how far outside the normal range of Israel's religious experience such calls lay and that they were not characteristic of the representatives of Yahwism from the very beginning. Moreover, in the ancient east people did not write things down simply for the sake of writing them down — the written record was always used as a means to a very definite end — so that the very fact that a call was recorded in writing shows that it was regarded at the time it occurred as something unusual.

The prophetic call in fact gave rise to a new literary category, the account of a call. In Israel the connection between a person's experiences in his religious and cultic life and the way in which he expressed himself by means of the spoken or the written word was such a direct and living one that any innovation of importance at once made itself apparent in the realm of form: an old form was modified, or a new one was brought into being. Here I mean the innovation by which the accounts of prophetic calls were given in the first person singular. Of course, men of Israel had said 'I' in the presence of God even before the prophets appeared on the scene — for example in laments and thanksgivings. But this was quite a different use of 'I'. The old cultic forms made first personal singular statements about the relationships between God and man which almost anyone could have taken on his lips — indeed he should have done so. It was broadly a collective and inclusive first person. But the 'I' the prophets speak of is expressly exclusive. The men who speak to us in these accounts were men who had been expressly called upon to abandon the fixed orders of religion which the majority of the people still considered valid — a tremendous step for a man of the ancient east to take — and because of it the prophets, in their new and completely unprecedented situation, were faced with the need to justify themselves both in their own and in other people's eyes. The event of which the prophet tells burdened him with a commission, with knowledge and responsibility which placed him in complete isolation before God. It forced him to justify his exceptional status in the eyes of the majority. This makes clear that the writing down of a call was something secondary to the call itself, and that it served a different end from the latter. The call commissioned the prophet : the act of writing down an account of it was aimed at those sections of the public in whose eyes he had to justify himself. No doubt these accounts are of great importance because of the insight they give us into the experience which made a man a prophet, and they do this far more directly than does any hymn used in the cult. At the same time, however, exegesis has always to remember that these narratives are probably not simply transcripts of what was experienced at the time. They are as well accounts designed to serve certain definite ends and they no doubt to a certain extent stylize the call.  There must have been many features in a call which would be of enormous interest to us, but the prophets do not mention them because in their view they were of no particular interest.^[1]

Did then the writing prophets hold a regular cultic office? As I see it, the accounts of their call answer this question with a decided 'No'. If a prophet had held a definite position in the cult, would he have laid so much stress upon his call? The importance which the prophets attached to their call makes it quite clear that they felt very much cut off from the religious capital on which the majority of the people lived, and dependent instead on their ownresources.

The source material here is well known. First of all there are the accounts in the first person singular in Amos 7—9, Isaiah 6, Jeremiah 1, Ezekiel 1—3, Isaiah 40.3-8, and Zechariah 1.7—6.8, but to these should be added such a story as the call of Elisha (I Kings, 19.19f.) or that of the youth Samuel at a time when the word of Yahweh 'had become rare in the land' (l Sam. 3.1ff.), for, whatever office the historic Samuel actually held, what the narrator wished to relate was the way in which a young man was raised up as a prophet (v. 20). The same is true of the call of Moses in Ex. 3—4, particularly in E's version of it; for the account of the commissioning, the divine promise, 'I will be with your mouth' (Ex. 4.12), and Moses' reluctance are all obviously told so as to make them agree with the ideas about prophetic call current in the narrator's own time. It is amazing to see such a wealth of psychological and theological nuance in ideas which may well belong to the ninth century, and it is equally amazing that the question of legitimation was even then given such importance ('But if they do not believe me,' Ex. 4.1), though, of course, it is only with Jeremiah, of the writing prophets, that the question becomes acute. There is a frank admission, also astounding at this early date, that it was possible for one who was called to office to refuse that call (Ex. 4.10ff.). Finally, we have also to consider I Kings 22.19-22. Micaiah ben Imlah's idea of the way in which the call to be a prophet came about -- that is, as the result of deliberation in the privy council of heaven — can hardly have been unique. It must have conformed to what were fairly widely held views. These ninth-century references in themselves warn us not to underrate early prophecy, or to assume that Amos or Isaiah imported something completely new into Israel when they made their appearance.

The event which led to a man's call to be a prophet is described in a considerable number of different ways, and it is also plain that there was no conventional fashion in which it came about. Moreover, each individual prophet was conditioned by his own particular gifts of mind and spirit, and this led to different reactions to the event. Yet, in spite of this, it is possible to pick out certain common features in those cases in which the prophets themselves tell us anything about their call.

The call of Elisha is admittedly somewhat different from the rest, because here it is one human being Elijah — who presses another — Elisha -- into the service of Yahweh (I Kings 19.19ff.). Elisha is called to 'follow' a man, that is, he was to be Elijah's disciple. The story of the way by which Elijah's charisma was transferred to Elisha is also unique (Il Kings 2.15), for, strangely enough, the prophets from Amos onwards do not think of themselves as bearers of the spirit, but as preachers of the word of Yahweh. For reasons at which we can only guess, the concept of the spirit, which was obviously still constitutive in making Elisha a prophet, lapses almost completely, and, as we might think, rather abruptly, into the background. For the ninth-century prophets, however, the presence of 'the spirit of Yahweh' was absolutely constitutive. Elisha had to request Elijah for possession of it (Il Kings 2.9); and only after it rested upon him is he reckoned a prophet. It is emphasized, however, that his possession of the spirit was attested by his associates, and this legitimated him in their eyes (v. 15). Delusion can only come about when the 'spirit' leads the prophets astray. This raises the question whether the spirit 'went' from one prophet to the other (I Kings 22.21f., 24). Again, the spirit could suddenly take a prophet from where he was and carry him off elsewhere (I Kings 18.22; Il Kings 2.16). The almost instantaneous disappearance of this well-defined concept is not only striking: it is also important theologically, for when this objective reality, the spirit, whose presence had to be attested by a prophet's associates, ceased to operate, then the prophet of the word had to rely much more on  himself and on the fact that he had received a call.^[2]

As far as we can see, the prophets of the eighth and seventh centuries received their call through God's direct and quite personal address to them, and this created a totally new situation for the  man concerned. The work on which he was sent was not just limited to a fixed period. The office to which he was commissioned, though perhaps not in every instance regarded as lifelong, at all events removed such a man from all his previous mode of life for at least a considerable time. Being a prophet was a condition which made deep inroads into a man's outward as well as his inner life — we shall later have to remember the consequences involved in the fact that from the very beginning not only the prophets' lips but also their whole lives were conscripted for special service. The complete absence of any transitional stage between the two conditions is a special characteristic of the situation. Being a prophet is never represented as a tremendous intensification or transcendence of all previous religious experience. Neither previous faith nor any other personal endowment had the slightest part to play in preparing a man who was called to stand before Yahweh for his vocation. He might by nature be a lover of peace, yet it might be laid upon him to threaten and reprove, even if, as with Jeremiah, it broke his heart to do so. Or, if nature made him prone to severity, he might be forced, like Ezekiel, to walk the way of comforting men and saving them. So deep is the gulf which separates the prophets from their past that none of their previous social relationships are carried over into the new way of life. 'I was a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees; but Yahweh took me from following the flock and said to me, "Go, prophesy against my people Israel" ' (Amos 7.14f.). This was more than a new profession: it was a totally new way of life, even at the sociological level, to the extent that a call meant relinquishing normal social life and all the social and economic securities which this offered, and changing over instead to a condition where a man had nothing to depend upon, or, as we may put it, to a condition of dependence upon Yahweh and upon that security alone. 'I do not sit blithely in the company of the merrymakers. Because thy hand is upon me, I sit alone; for thou hast filled me with indignation' (Jer. 15.17).

Flesh and blood can only be forced into such a service. At all events, the prophets themselves felt that they had been compelled by a stronger will than theirs. Admittedly, the early prophets only rarely mention these matters affecting their call. The first to break the silence is Jeremiah.

Thou didst deceive me, and I let myself be deceived;

Thou wast too strong for me, and didst prevail over me (Jer. 20.7)

What is here said in open rebellion, the avowal that he was compelled, with no possibility of refusal, was also expressed by Amos.

The lion has roared — who is not afraid

The Lord Yahweh has spoken — who does not prophesy? (Amos 3:8)

This verse has been rightly called a 'word of discussion'. That is to say, it is the answer to a query whether Amos could bring proof of his right to speak in the name of Yahweh. The prophet refuses to allow his prophecy to be called in question in this way. What he says is in no sense the product of reflection or personal resolve. It is something which bears witness to itself, and so is not unlike some unconscious reflex action which even the person concerned cannot himself explain.

3. The call to be a prophet in which, as we have said, an individual was personally addressed by God, was as a rule associated with another factor which made the future ambassador of God acquainted with the will and purpose of Yahweh in an extremely vivid way. This was a vision. Of course, in the fairly large number of visions which occur in the Old Testament there is no instance where a vision is not immediately followed by an audition and where it does not culminate in God's addressing the prophet. Nonetheless, the fact that Yahweh claimed not only the prophet's lips but also his eyes for the service of his new task is of prime importance. The purpose of the vision was not to impart knowledge of higher worlds. It was intended to open the prophet's eyes to coming events which were not only of a spiritual sort, but were also to be concrete realities in the objective world. Contrary to popular misconception, the prophets were not concerned with the being of God, but with future events which were about to occur in space and time -- indeed, in Israel's own immediate surroundings. Yet even to the theologian this massive concentration upon historical events, as also the complete absence of any sort of 'speculative' inclinations even in those visions where Yahweh is seen in person, must be a source of constant wonder. For example, Amos says that he saw Yahweh holding a plumb-line to a wall. But when Yahweh asked him what he saw, his answer was 'a plumb-line' (Amos 7-7f.) ! Again, in his fifth vision, where he sees Yahweh standing upon the altar, he shows an astonishing lack of interest in what Yahweh looked like (Amos 9.1). The same is also true of Isaiah's great throne vision (Isa. 6). The first prophet to attempt anything like a detailed picture of the 'glory of Yahweh', as it broke upon him from the realm of the transcendent at his call, is Ezekiel. And yet how circumspect he, too, is as he describes what he perceived above the throne and 'what was like as it were a human form' (Ezek, 1.26ff.).

The reception of revelation itself, that is to say, the more immediate circumstances in which this event in the prophet's inner self-consciousness took place, is only occasionally mentioned in the sources, and so much that we should like to know is left unanswered. On one point, however, there is universal agreement, that visions and auditions came to the prophets from outside themselves, and that they came suddenly and completely without premeditation. Only once is there mention of any technical preparation for the reception of a revelation — through a minstrel (Il Kings 3.15). This, however, was exceptional. Inspiration might come to a prophet as he sat at table (I Kings 13.20). On the other hand, he might have to wait as long as ten days for an answer from Yahweh (Jer. 42.7). There is no doubt that, at the moment when the prophets received a revelation, they believed that they heard themselves addressed in words. Perhaps as a rule they first heard their name called (I Sam. 3.4ff.). The sources also allow us to make the further inference that, very frequently at least, such reception of revelation was something which caused the prophet a severe bodily shock. Be this as it may, the earlier prophets have very little to say about this aspect of their office. But when it is told of a prophet that the hand of Yahweh came upon him or fell upon him (I Kings 18.46; Ezek. 8.1), or when a prophet himself even says that the hand of Yahweh seized him (Isa. 8.11), there is every reason for believing that behind these brief notices lie experiences which not only shook his soul but caused bodily disturbances as well. Ezekiel relates how he sat on the ground awe-struck and unable to speak a word for seven days after his call (Ezek. 3.15). Daniel, too, says that all the blood drained from his face, that he fell to the ground (Dan. 10.8f.), and that after one such experience he lay sick for some days (Dan. 8.27). By the time of apocalyptic such language may have become to some extent stereotyped and conventional, but in earlier days a prophet's bodily sufferings were something very real and painful.

As whirlwinds sweeping in from the Negeb it comes from the desert, from a terrible land.
A stern vision is told to me :
'The plunderer plunders, the destroyer destroys.

To the attack, O Elam, lay siege, O Media.'

Therefore my loins are filled with cramp, pangs have seized me, like the pangs of a woman in travail.

I am troubled, so that I cannot hear, dismayed, so that I cannot see, my mind reels, horror has laid hold upon me.

The twilight for which I look, it has turned for me into horror. 'They prepare the table... they eat and drink.

Up, ye princes, oil the shield! '

For thus the Lord said to me:

'Go, set the watchman,

Let him announce what he sees.

And behold, here come chariots, men and teams of horses.

And he answered and said: Fallen, fallen is Babylon, all the images of her gods have been shattered to the ground.

O my threshed one,

O my son of the threshing floor,

What I have heard from Yahweh of hosts, the God of Israel, that I announce to you.
(Isa.21.1-10)

This passage, which comes from the second half of the sixth century and is therefore not from Isaiah himself, lets us see as no other does something of the prophet's very deeply agitated and tormented state as he received a 'stern vision'. He is greatly disturbed. Pictures thrust themselves upon his inner eye. Their outlines are scarcely fixed before they break up again. With them mingle cries complaining of the unbearable anguish and bodily pains which have overtaken him as he sees the vision (cf. Hab. 3.16). In the end all is resolved in the 'cry of deliverance' telling of the fall of the impious world-power. The prophet is now exhausted, and the last thing he summons up is a feeling of sympathy with his own threshed people, the 'son of the threshing-floor'.

How such and similar processes in the prophet's self-consciousness are to be more precisely defined psychologically is a question to which the investigations of present-day psychology are still unable to give a satisfactory answer. The idea that the prophets were 'ecstatics', once widely accepted, is now out of favour, for the concept of ecstasy has proved to be too general and imprecise. In particular, the way in which it was used suggested that while the prophet was in this state his self-consciousness disappeared, and that, ceasing to have a will of his own, he became the scene in which processes external to his own personality were played out. This, of course, put the whole thing the wrong way round; for when, in a way hitherto unknown in Israel and in the entire ancient east, the individual with his responsibility and power to make decisions came in prophecy to occupy the centre of the stage -one might almost say when the individual was discovered — it was only to be expected that it would be precisely in the event of the prophet's reception of revelation that this new factor would be apparent. And as far as we can tell with any certainty from the sources, this is absolutely the case. The literary form in which the prophets describe their visions, the first person singular, is itself evidence. Even so, this in no way excludes the possibility of a 'condition of abnormal excitation, during which the normal wakeful consciousness of the man upon whom it comes is put out of action and his relationships to ordinary life diminished to the point at which they no longer exist'. ^[1] In such a condition, that of direct encounter with God and with his purposes in history, might not the normal consciousness have been raised to an intensity never experienced in the ordinary way? If so, the term 'ecstasy' is much too rigid. Attempts have been made to avoid the difficulty by drawing a sharp distinction between the 'ecstasy of concentration' and the 'ecstasy of absorption'. It is quite true that none of the prophets ever in fact had any kind of experience of becoming one with the Godhead. Nevertheless, there are grave objections to a comparison of the prophets' experience with certain forms of medieval mysticism; for even in their most sublime experiences the mystics always remained within the limits of the accepted dogmas of their own day, whereas the prophets, precisely in their inaugural visions, were led out to new vistas of belief. With Amos, Isaiah, and Jeremiah the material which we could use directly in this connection is both too scanty and too obscure, but if we take the well-attested occurrences in the pre-classical prophets on the one hand and, on the other, the more numerous references in Ezekiel, impartial examination will lead to the conclusion that nearly all the prophets experienced such temporary states of consciousness in which the senses were intensified. The fact that these occur so very much more frequently in Ezekiel than in the others is no reason for regarding him as exceptional in this respect.

If, then, we have to reckon with such abnormal states of consciousness in the prophets, it is mistaken to suppose, as is sometimes done, that these have no particular importance for the theologian. Here, as everywhere else, to detach matters which belong to the central substance of Yahwism from their contingent links with history or with a person, and to regard them as no more than abstract truths, is to distort them. If Yahweh chose such a singular realm as the prophet's spirit, if he chose none of the already existing institutions for his new word to Israel, and if in this psychic realm which had been so singularly kept open he brought such a singular thing to pass, this must stand in relationship to other matters which theology cannot ignore. It actually means nothing less than that in the states where the prophet saw visions and heard himself addressed, he became in a strange way detached from himself and his own personal likes and dislikes, and was drawn into the emotions of the deity himself. It was not only the knowledge of God's designs in history that was communicated to him, but also the feelings in God's heart, wrath, love, sorrow, revulsion, and even doubt as to what to do or how to do it (Hos. 6.4; 11.8; Isa. 6.8). Something of Yahweh's own emotion passed over into the prophet's psyche and filled it to bursting-point. Once it is seen that the primary reference of the condition is a theological one, it becomes very doubtful whether any special psychic preparation on the prophet's part was required, or even whether it was at all possible. The highest degree of being absorbed into the emotions of the Godhead in this way was reached by Jeremiah and Ezekiel, but there is evidence that the majority of the prophets experienced it to some degree.

A revelation received in such an unusual way can never have been an end in itself. Least of all was it given to the prophet to let him know that God was near to him. Its purpose was to equip him for his office. On the other hand, when a prophet did receive such a revelation, it was in every case something purely personal. It lifted him right out of the common ruck. He was allowed to know God's designs and to share in God's emotions; but he never thought of holding his status before God up to other people as normative for them. It is significant that no prophet ever instructed or exhorted those to whom he spoke to reach out to a direct experience of God such as he himself had had. Joel was the first to look forward to the day when everyone in Israel would be like those rare beings  who are endowed with the spirit (Joel 3.1ff. [2.28ff.]). In an earlier passage, the only one of its kind, the same wish is put into the mouth of Moses (Num. 11.29, E).

4. In more recent study of the prophets, the question of the psychological peculiarities of the prophet's reception of revelation have markedly retreated into the background. A more pressing question is that of the particular form of the account of the vision given by the prophet and of the traditions by which he seems to have been influenced. There is good reason for this, as the account of the vision is itself part of the proclamation.

Among the receptions of visions more elaborately described in the Old Testament, those of Micaiah ben Imlah (I Kings 22.19ff.), Isaiah (Isa. 6), and Ezekiel (Ezek. 1—3) fall into the same class, for they follow what was obviously a given basic concept, that of solemn commissioning by Yahweh as he sat enthroned in the midst of his heavenly entourage. Each of the three, however, adapts the 'schema' in its own particular way. In I Kings 22.19ff. the occasion is a regular session of the assembly of the heavenly dignitaries ('one said one thing, and another said another', v. 20), until 'the spirit' comes forward and makes the proposal to delude Ahab's prophets by means of a lying spirit, to which Yahweh agrees. The spirit is then sent out forthwith. Isaiah, too, says that he saw Yahweh in the heavenly temple, seated upon his throne. The seen element, of course, plays only a small part in the narrative. When the prophet describes what he beheld, all that he mentions is the hem of the garment which reached to Yahweh's feet. Quite obviously, he had not dared to lift up his eyes. Moreover, smoke quickly clouded the scene from him. But this enhanced what he heard. He heard the seraphim's Trisagion, the thunder of which made the palace shake. At this direct encounter with supreme holiness and in this atmosphere of sheer adoration, Isaiah became conscious of his own sinfulness and was appalled — indeed, the sin of his whole nation seemed to be made manifest in his own person. At his confession of sin Yahweh made a sign — Isaiah did not, of course, see this — and a rite of atonement, which now made it possible for him to raise his voice in this holy place, was performed upon his lips. On hearing Yahweh ask whom he could send (the term 'send' is used quite absolutely), Isaiah with a minimum of words and without more ado put himself at his Lord's disposal, and was forthwith given his commission, which was to make his nation stubborn and harden their hearts by the very message he was to proclaim, 'until cities are laid waste and the fields in the open country are like waste land'; a holy seed was, however, to remain. Even in the prophetic literature, where the extraordinary is not the exception but the rule, there is very, very little to compare with the grandeur of the verses in which Isaiah describes his call. Does this lie in the overwhelming splendour of its outward accompaniments, or in the mighty power of the spiritual experience? Yet even to put such a question is to tear apart the classic balance between external and internal. The description of the external embraces all the inward experience, and vice versa.

Ezekiel, too, sees Yahweh sitting on his throne. With him, however, the description of the vision is much more involved, since in his case the throne vision is united with what was originally an entirely different and independent idea, that of the descent of the 'glory of God', to form a single complex unit. Here, therefore, the heavens open, and Yahweh's throne, borne by four heavenly beings, comes down to earth on storm-clouds. The manner of the prophet's call to office is similar to that of Isaiah except that in this case there is a still stronger impression that he received his commission in the form of what could almost be called a state-paper. For the king on the throne hands the waiting ambassador a scroll containing his instructions. There is also another similarity between the calls of Ezekiel and Isaiah. The prophet is repeatedly reminded of the difficulty and even hopelessness of his position by the words with which Yahweh accompanies the delivery of the note: the people to whom he is sent are of a hard forehead and a stubborn heart. This whole commissioning is hedged about with words which prepare Ezekiel for the failure of what he undertakes, though the latter lays much greater stress than does Isaiah on his hearers' freedom to refuse to listen to him (Ezek. 3.7, 11).

The three visions just considered thus end by indicating a completely negative result — in no sense will the prophet's work lead to deliverance; it will only hasten on the inevitable disaster. The ideas which the three men each held about the nature of their calling must have been very much alike: there must have been some kind of common call-experience which put a stamp upon their work from the very outset. Their devastatingly negative outlook on the future of their work, and the way in which, without any illusions, they faced up to its complete failure, are again a factor which compels us to look for these prophets outside the cult. For cult always implies at least a minimum of effect; it is action which  has beneficial results in one way or another.

The call of Jeremiah begins with a dialogue in which Yahweh gently but firmly breaks down the other's shrinking resistance to his commission. Then follow the two visions of the rod of almond and the seething cauldron, which indeed fall very short of the forcefulness of the other three which have just been discussed. In other respects Jeremiah was a master of expression. Here, however, his creative power is clearly less than usual. Even in the dialogue which precedes the visions Jeremiah surprises us. He says that Yahweh touched his mouth. There is no indication, however, that he saw Yahweh as well as heard him. It was not in Jeremiah's power to give a visual picture of the presence of Yahweh.

In the visions themselves he beheld two static objects — there is no motion — which in themselves are quite unremarkable. Only the words of Yahweh which follow the visions and interpret them indicate the objects' symbolic character — Yahweh is watching over his word, it is never out of his sight: and evil is to break upon Jerusalem and Judah from the north. Here, too, something of the magnificent realism which elsewhere characterizes the descriptions of the dealings between Yahweh and Jeremiah is missing. In Jeremiah's visions nothing at all is done. The rod of almond and the seething cauldron are both simply things: what the prophet sees is little more than an illustrative and symbolic picture which serves to corroborate the message given to him. The substance of Jeremiah's visions is no longer some irrevocable act which Yahweh is about to do. Compared with the visions in 1 Kings 22, Isa. 6, and Ezek. 1—3, those of Jeremiah display a distinct lack of action. Their content is rather the symbolic illustration of more general insights which are to dominate his preaching from now on. On the other hand, even in the account of Jeremiah's call there is still the framework of an official commissioning, an appointment to a particular service made by a superior ('I have appointed you to…'; 'I have set you this day over…'). Perhaps the outline of the external event is so markedly incomplete because the reader would himself supply what was missing? ^[1]

Deutero-lsaiah received his call by means of two auditions. He had no vision, nor was he directly called by Yahweh. Instead, his ear caught something of the movement that had made itself felt in the heavenly places. He heard the summons given to the angelic beings to build the wondrous way over valley and mountain to prepare for that coming of Yahweh in which he would manifest himself to the world (Isa. 40.3-5). The first audition, therefore, only allowed the prophet to learn something of the preparations which were already being made in heaven for Yahweh's imminent advent — and this before there was even the slightest indication of it upon earth. In the second, however, he was directly addressed evidently by an angel — and given the theme of his preaching: amid the transience of 'all flesh', a transience which was caused by Yahweh's own fiery breath, Yahweh's word alone is permanent, and is the guarantee of permanency (Isa. 40.6-8).

Little can be said about the frequency with which the various prophets received such extraordinary revelations. The number of visions and auditions reported in grand literary style is certainly nothing to go on. As we saw, such subsequent elaborations had a definite purpose to serve with visions received at a call. In other cases there was no interest in giving an express and studied description of what the prophet had seen; then he simply confined himself to communicating its contents. There are plenty of oracles of this kind which quite clearly derive from genuine visionary or auditory experiences. This can certainly be presumed in the case of the description of the onslaught of the nations against Zion and their miraculous repulse in Isa. 17.12ff. The same is true of the theophany in Isa. 30.27f. or in Isa. 63.1ff., as it is also of descriptions of anguish such as Nah. 2.2ff. [1ff.], where the visual element is particularly conspicuous. It also holds good of Jeremiah's anticipations of the wars to come (Jer. 4—6): they are so shot through with the prophet's sensory perceptions as to leave no doubt of their visionary and auditory character. ^[2]

It is impossible exactly to separate out visionary experiences which were genuinely ecstatic from other forms of the reception of revelation. Yahweh had assuredly more ways than one of communicating with the prophets, but it is hopeless to try to gain clear ideas about the psychical side of the processes. Isaiah says that Yahweh revealed himself 'in his ears' (Isa. 5.9, 22.14); so, too, Ezekiel (Ezek. 9.1, 5), and elsewhere.^[3]  Thus, there were also revelations which took the form of an auditory experience and nothing more. Jeremiah makes a clear distinction between oral revelation and revelation by means of a dream, and sets little store by the latter (Jer. 23.28). The experience of receiving a word also occasionally attained a high degree of excitation; otherwise, how could Ezekiel have likened the sound of the wings of the cherubim which could be heard from afar to the resounding of the voice of Yahweh, 'when he speaks' (Ezek. 10.5)? On the other hand, we have good reason to believe that the prophets were also given inspiration in which no kind of change came over their ordinary consciousness, that is to say, in which the revelation was a mental process. This is probably so in the great majority of those cases in which the prophet speaks only of the word of Yahweh which had come to him. Nevertheless, even here the element of 'event' which the revelation had for the prophet ought not to be overlooked. It is not simply a matter of mental perception, but of the 'coming' of the word of Yahweh, and, consequently, even with this quite unsensational form of revelation the prophets never lost the feeling that there was something strange in the experience.

Oddly enough, Job's friend Eliphaz also gives an account of an experience in which he received a revelation similar to that of the prophets.

A word stole to me, my ear perceived a whisper of it, in disquieting thoughts, amid visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on men.

Dread seized me and trembling, it made all my limbs shake; a spirit glided over my face, the hair of my flesh stood up.

It stood still —; but I could not discern its appearance; a form was before me, I heard a still low voice:

'Can a mortal man be in the right before God, or a man be pure before his Maker?'

(Job 4.12-17)

This is easily our most comprehensive and detailed description of the outward circumstances which accompanied a revelation. It certainly cannot be dismissed by saying that Eliphaz was not of course a prophet. The clearest proof of how little a prophet he was is the 'oracle' in v.17, which is in fact not an oracle at all, but runs counter to the whole prophetic tradition and takes the form of a rhetorical question; this means that it is a saying of the kind found in the wisdom literature. None the less, it may be assumed that when Eliphaz describes the psychical accompaniments of a revelation, he takes as his basis genuine prophetic tradition.

The time for receiving a revelation of the kind is the night. It is heralded by disquiet and feelings of fear. Then little by little the sensory organs are stimulated, first touch, then sight, and finally hearing.

The frequency with which such revelations were received is a question about which little can be said so far as each individual case is concerned, but a general survey of prophecy from the eighth to the sixth century does lead to one important result. Basically Amos had one task and one alone to do: 'Go and prophesy against my people Israel' (Amos 7.15). No doubt this embraced a considerable number of word-revelations which may have come hard on each other's heels during the time in which he was active. Yet his activity may well have been limited in duration: it was conceivably only a matter of months; then — perhaps because he was expelled by Amaziah — he went back home and his charisma thereafter ceased. With Isaiah it was different. His prophecy surges up in a number of separate waves, which were in each case determined by specific political situations. Yet, what we know of his activity makes perfectly clear that even he regarded the various occasions on which he came forward as of limited duration, and that, as each ended, he could consider himself released from office. With Jeremiah, however, the calling meant a lifelong office. Later on we shall have to consider in more detail the great change which came over the whole idea of the nature of prophetic service at this point — how the prophet's whole life became bound up with Yahweh's dealings with his people, and how this exhausted him. Here — at least in principle — there were no distinct phases in the exercise of his office, no several stages ending when a specified task had been duly performed. Jeremiah was a prophet because Yahweh had conscripted his whole life. ¹⁰

As far as the reception of revelation is concerned, Jeremiah makes it clear that he sometimes had to wait a considerable time for an answer (Jer. 28.12; 42.7). When in contrast with this the Servant in Deutero-lsaiah — and his office was above all else a prophetic one — says that Yahweh 'morning by morning awakens his ear' (Isa. 50.4), this undoubtedly marks a decisive advance upon what Jeremiah could say about himself. Indeed, it signifies the climax of prophecy in the Old Testament. For what the Servant is trying to say is that his reception of revelation was continuous, and his converse with Yahweh unbroken.