Commentary - 1 Samuel 4:19-22

Bird's-eye view

Here we come to the bitter dregs of a national spiritual disaster. The events of 1 Samuel 4 are not simply a military defeat; they represent a theological crisis. Israel, having treated the Ark of the Covenant like a good luck charm, has been routed by the Philistines. The priesthood is corrupt, the people are superstitious, and God has rendered His judgment. This short, tragic narrative of one woman's death in childbirth serves as the final, poignant summary of the entire catastrophe. She is, in her grief and final testimony, the most perceptive theologian in Israel at this moment. Her personal tragedy is a microcosm of the national tragedy, and her naming of her son is an inspired oracle that pronounces the grim reality of their situation: the glory has departed.

This is a story about the difference between true and false religion. False religion seeks to manage God, to put Him in a box, and to bring Him out on special occasions to do our bidding. True religion knows that God is the one who manages us, and that His presence, His glory, is not a thing to be manipulated but a Person to be obeyed and worshiped. The loss of the Ark was not the cause of God's departure; it was the sign of it. God had already left the building, spiritually speaking, long before the Philistines carried off the furniture.

Outline

Commentary

19 Now his daughter-in-law, Phinehas’s wife, was with child and about to give birth. And she heard the report that the ark of God was taken and that her father-in-law and her husband had died, so she kneeled down and gave birth, for her pains came upon her.

The narrative zooms in from the battlefield and the city gate to a single household, to a single woman. This is where the consequences of public sin land. They land in the birthing room. Notice the cascade of terrible news. The Ark is taken, her father-in-law Eli is dead, and her husband Phinehas, that worthless man, is also dead. The news is a spiritual, political, and personal devastation all at once. The shock of it all induces labor. Her pains came upon her, the text says, and this is a fitting image for the nation. Israel is in a convulsive agony, brought on by her own sin. The wages of sin are being paid out, and the bill has come due in the most intimate and painful way imaginable for this poor woman.

20 And about the time of her death the women who stood by her said to her, “Do not be afraid, for you have given birth to a son.” But she did not answer or pay attention.

The women attending her offer the standard comfort of that culture. A son has been born. The family line will continue. In any other circumstance, this would be news of great joy, a balm for any grief. But her grief is not standard. It is a theological grief. The women see a baby; she sees a nation in ruins. They offer a natural hope, but she is consumed by a spiritual hopelessness. So she does not answer. She doesn't even pay attention. What good is a son when the God of the covenant has apparently abandoned His people? What good is the continuation of a family line in a nation from which the glory of God has departed? Her silence is a profound statement. The platitudes of civil religion are utterly worthless in the face of genuine spiritual catastrophe. The women are trying to put a sentimental band-aid on a gaping, mortal wound.

21 And she called the boy Ichabod, saying, “The glory has departed from Israel,” because the ark of God was taken and because of her father-in-law and her husband.

Here, in her last act, this woman becomes a prophet. She names the child, and in doing so, she names the era. Ichabod. Where is the glory? Or, no glory. Her explanation is precise. She links the departure of the glory to the capture of the Ark, and to the death of the corrupt priesthood represented by her family. She has more spiritual discernment than all the elders who thought bringing the Ark into battle was a clever strategy. She understands that the Ark was not a magical object but a symbol of God's presence, and its capture meant that the reality it symbolized was gone. The glory, the manifest weight of God's presence with His people, had been lifted. Israel had become a common nation, like any other. They had sinned away their birthright, and this baby would bear the name of their shame.

22 And she said, “The glory has departed from Israel, for the ark of God was taken.”

She repeats the verdict for emphasis, as if to make sure the lesson is not missed. This is the takeaway, the headline of the whole disaster. "The glory has departed from Israel." And the reason is stated again: the Ark was taken. Israel's great sin was to confuse the symbol with the reality. They honored the Ark but did not honor the God of the Ark. They thought they could possess God's glory while living in rebellion to His law. God's response was to let them keep their sin and to remove His glory. He let them see what it was like to be truly on their own. This is a terrifying moment, but it is a necessary one. Israel had to learn that God will not be mocked and His glory will not be domesticated. This departure of the glory sets the stage for the whole drama of Israel's subsequent history, a history that is a long yearning for the return of that glory, a glory that would ultimately return not in a box of acacia wood, but in the person of Jesus Christ, the very glory of God in human flesh.

Application

The story of Ichabod is a perennial warning to the church. It is the warning against formalism, against the kind of religion that maintains the outward symbols of faith but has lost the inward reality of God's presence. We can have our beautiful buildings, our slick programs, our correct doctrinal statements, and our political influence, but if the glory of God has departed, we are nothing but a hollow shell, a museum of what used to be.

The question we must constantly ask ourselves is not "Is the Ark in the camp?" but rather "Is the God of the Ark in the camp?" Are we walking in obedience? Are we confessing our sins? Is our worship characterized by a holy fear and a joyful reverence, or by a casual and manipulative sentimentality? The glory of God is not a commodity to be managed; it is the holy presence of the living God, who dwells with the humble and contrite in heart.

The good news of the gospel is that the true Glory, Jesus Christ, has come. And through His death and resurrection, He has made a new covenant in which He promises, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." The glory of God in the new covenant is not located in a physical object but dwells in the hearts of His people by the Holy Spirit. Our task is not to carry a box into battle, but to walk in the Spirit, to live lives of faith and repentance, and to worship God in spirit and in truth. When we do this, we are not preserving a departing glory, but rather reflecting the glory that has already come and will one day fill the whole earth as the waters cover the sea.