18. Othniel.
1894 92 There are three phases of public spirit. That, firstly, which is like some of the Swiss toy barometers, — the little man comes out boldly in fine weather and retires carefully in foul. These fairweather friends are to be welcomed but not trusted. Then, there are those who are never heard of at all but when there is trouble, at which times they will appear, like the "Mother Carey's chickens" flapping round the heads of the wearied and embarrassed sailors, and greatly enjoying the commotion. But there are also those noble and devoted spirits that prefer to be unnoticed so long as there is calm and prosperity, yet who are ever ready in the crucial hour of danger to come forward to labour, endure, or die for the common weal. When a great storm bursts on the coast, we presently see a few stalwart men, with rough stern faces, strong frames, and stout hearts, hastening out into the blinding tempest to rescue the doomed crew of some wreck. We wonder who they are and whence they came. Tomorrow we shall look for them in vain. They will have returned quietly to their fishing nets, with that same quality of magnanimous serenity with which Cincinnatus returned to his plough, or Hampden to his estate, or Washington to his farm.
To this last class belonged Othniel, of whom we read but very little, yet that little conveys suggestions of one of the finest characters which the world has known, one who combined (with military ability and heroism of the highest order) the wisdom and capacity of the most competent statesmanship, — a union of qualities so rare that history contains very few (perhaps not a dozen) parallels. Like some men of this type, Othniel is obscure and unknown until some great national emergency arises or some exceptionally arduous public service has to be attempted. Then in a few words (Judges 1:12-15, Judges 3:9-11.) we are told that he does the work; the brief, absolute manner of the narration conveying the idea that he has gone forward quietly and accomplished all that was required by a few swift strong blows, and then retired silently to his ordinary daily duties as though nothing particular had occurred. In this way, when the capture of Kirjath-Sepher proves too difficult for anyone else, Othniel storms and carries it; and later on when Israel is crushed by the foreign yoke of Chusan-rishathaim, God's Holy Spirit arouses this puissant warrior again to come forth and, with a mighty overthrow, to cast off His people's bonds. Then comes a most significant statement. Othniel is appointed a judge of Israel, and during his rule, "the land had rest — forty years."
Happy is the country that has no "history" — that is, in the vulgar sense of the word, a record of wars, treaties, and conflicting dynasties. Happy is the country when a ruler's long reign can be written in two or three clauses thus: An arduous and heroic enterprise; a mighty and effectual salvation; a wise and tranquil reign. The curse of an earthly deliverer usually is that, when he has saved his nation, and finds himself with a great military force in his power, his ardour of battle and lust of conquest is so great that he then goes about carrying fire and sword into other nations; he likes a spirited foreign policy, until either he inflicts every horror of war wherever his foot treads, or else the people in a frenzy of hatred and despair combine to cast him off the face of the earth. They hurl him at last from Moscow to St. Helena. But Othniel had evidently no more lust of conquest than a Hampden or a Washington. To one like this, "the next dreadful thing to a battle lost is a battle won." He now shows himself as wise and strong to govern his own people and keep them in peaceful development, as he has already been to conquer their oppressors.
Through the stern and sombre records of these events there twice passes an interlude of idyllic brightness. Caleb had given his daughter as bride to Othniel, on his capturing Kirjath-Sepher, and he had given her a field, which however lacked water-springs in order to make it properly fruitful. We have then a sunlit vision of the bride alighting from her beast, approaching the old warrior, and presenting her request with all filial reverence and confidence; and we see the war-scarred face of the veteran softened into a loving complacency, as he replies that she shall have springs in abundance, the upper springs and the lower ones too. From the position and repetition of this apparently slight episode, I consider it to be typically designed, thus: Othniel, ("Lion of God," of Judah, Christ the Deliverer) captures Kirjath-Sepher "the city of the book," and wins Achsah, the Bride, who receives from the Father those hidden spiritual blessings, both heavenly and earthly, Upper and Nether, without which all providential gifts are barren and worthless.