And Elisha came to Damascus; and Ben-Hadad the king of Syria was sick; and it was told him saying, The man of God is come hither.
Elisha's last recorded public act takes him out of Israel and into Damascus, the capital of the enemy nation whose king had once sent an army to seize him. That king now lies sick, and news of the prophet's arrival goes straight to his bedside.
The prophet's work had been for Israel, yet here he stands in a foreign court:
Elisha's service is not confined to Israel and the Land. So we read that he "came to Damascus," and we find him among the Gentiles.
His reputation had arrived ahead of him. Naaman, the Syrian army commander healed of leprosy, may have opened the door:
From this passage in his history we find that Elisha had honour beyond the limits of Israel. We see him in Damascus, and his arrival is soon reported to the king, and honoured by him. The case of Naaman may have opened the way for him to this honour and confidence in the Syrian court. It is some evidence of the witness that healed leper, that converted sinner of the Gentiles, had given to the name of the God of Israel. So the Syrian king now looks no longer to Israel's king (see 2 Kings 5:5), but to the prophet.
Elisha did not go to Damascus on his own initiative. One writer links the journey to an order given years before to Elijah, who never carried it out:
The Lord had told Elijah to go to Damascus and anoint Hazael to be king over Syria (1 Kings 19:15). Elijah did not do this. He was also told to anoint Jehu as king of Israel, and he did not do that either. One of the sons of the prophets did it in 2 Kings 9:6. But now Elisha went to Damascus, certainly led by the Lord to do so.
That errand darkens the whole scene:
It is very solemn to find every testimony and ministry of grace closing in judgment. It is the more hopeless because the light has practically gone out, patience is exhausted, every warning has been neglected, and unbelief has answered the pleading of grace with scoffing… So too the Holy Spirit here closes the public ministry of Elisha and draws the sword of judgment — first Hazael's, then Jehu's… Ben-hadad had come to know a good deal about the Lord: the cleansing of Naaman, the refusal of the king's gifts, the exposure of his plans against Israel. All these displays of the power and goodness of the Lord made the Gentile king responsible and without excuse for such a sad mistake.
Ben-hadad had once sent an army to capture Elisha. Now, sick in bed, he wants him. The reversal runs point by point:
Ben-hadad, the king of Syria, is sick. In his sickness he recognises and honours the man of God. In his prosperity the king had sent a great army to capture him: in his sickness he sends a great gift to honour him. In health he seeks to surround him for his destruction: in sickness he seeks to win him over for his help. Driven by need he recognises and owns the God that up to now he had despised.
Commentators read the king's motive differently. One notes that he at least knew where not to turn: "when the matter might mean death, he knew it was no use appealing to his idols" (Leslie M. Grant). Another is blunter: "there was no real turning of the heart to God" (The Bible Treasury).
The king's first move is to pay for what he wants:
Like Naaman, he was ready to pay well for any benefit he might receive. So he sent the man of God "a present of every good thing of Damascus, forty camels' burden." God is not a trader, but a giver — and a very generous giver. Men's minds seem to find that fact very difficult to grasp. In every dispensation men are inclined to bargain with God — so much money or labour for so much blessing.
The same writer applies this to the world, and then to believers:
The world, when faced with some terrible disaster, will, in an outward way, recognise and turn to God. Sadly, even the believer may grow careless, with little thought of God, when everything runs smoothly, circumstances are prosperous, and health is good. But in our troubles we have to turn to God. It is good that we do, and good that we have such a God of grace to turn to. Far better still, like Enoch long ago, to walk with God.
- Arrival. Elisha walks into Damascus. News of "the man of God" reaches a Syrian king's sickbed, for his service is not fenced in by Israel's borders.
- Reputation. Naaman's cure had carried the name of the God of Israel into that court. The prophet is honoured there before he speaks.
- Errand. He comes on the unfinished commission once given to Elijah, to see Hazael made king of Syria.
- Reversal. The king who sent an army to seize Elisha now sends a gift to court him. Need, not repentance, moves him, and the light he already had leaves him without excuse.
- Warning. Men bargain with God when trouble comes; far better, as with Enoch, to walk with Him while things go well.
And the king said to Hazael, Take a present in thy hand, and go, meet the man of God, and inquire of Jehovah by him, saying, Shall I recover from this disease?
The verse sits at a sickbed in Damascus, outside Israel's borders. A foreign king who once hunted Elisha now sends his chief servant to him with a gift and one question about his own survival.
The words Ben-hadad puts in Hazael's mouth are not new. One writer notes that an earlier king sent almost the same message to an idol. He draws a conclusion about people from the overlap:
These were exactly the same words that Ahaziah, king of Israel, had spoken when he sent his messenger to consult Baalzebub (2 Kings 1:2). This shows two things. The first is that all men, whether idolaters or those who know the true God, are alike constantly preoccupied with death.
The same writer presses further into why the king reached past his own religion to a prophet of Israel:
Their only hope is in visible things. So the thought that they may have to leave them troubles them deeply. And uncertainty about the future fills their minds too… A sun worshipper got no answer from his god. So he preferred to turn to the man of God, who was right there in his path. He wants to consult the LORD through him — not to find an answer for the needs of his conscience, but only to know whether he will live longer.
Sickness changed the way the king treated the prophet. One writer holds his two seasons side by side:
In his sickness he recognises and honours the man of God. In his prosperity the king had sent a great army to capture him: in his sickness he sends a great gift to honour him. In health he tries to surround him for his destruction: in sickness he tries to win him over for his help. Driven by need, he recognises and owns the God he had until then despised. Such is man, and such are our hearts.
The same writer turns this on the reader. A believer can also live "with little reference to God, when all things run smoothly," and turn to Him only in trouble. Far better, he says, to walk with God all along.
The order "Take a present with you" exposes the king's idea of God. One commentator sees in the forty camel-loads a habit that outlives every age:
Like Naaman, he was prepared to pay well for any benefit he might receive. So he sent the man of God "a present of every good thing of Damascus, forty camels' burden." God is not a trader but a giver — and a very generous giver. Men seem to find that fact very hard to grasp. In every age men are inclined to bargain with God: so much money or labour for so much blessing.
Another writer notes that the appeal named the LORD, yet ignored what the LORD is like: the king approached "with no true piety, but with a false idea of Elisha's superhuman powers," and "there was no real turning of the heart to God."
The verse names Hazael in passing. The errand placed a servant with private ambitions in front of Elisha:
Hazael comes before the man of God and repeats the king's words. But in the depths of his being something is already stirring — hidden desire, coveting, a plan, perhaps vague, but waiting only to be confirmed. Elisha has read his heart. His secret thoughts do not escape God's eye.
The same writer adds that Elisha's reply would sound unclear to anyone else. To Hazael it carried a meaning that "hastens his decision."
One writer sees this errand as the point where a ministry of grace turns into judgment:
It is deeply solemn to find every testimony and ministry of grace closing in judgment. It is all the more hopeless because the light has been all but put out. Patience is exhausted, every warning neglected, and the pleading of grace answered by the mockery of unbelief… So too the Holy Spirit here closes the public ministry of Elisha and draws the sword of judgment — first Hazael's, then Jehu's.
- Fear asks. The dying king used the same words an idol-worshipping king once used. Idolaters and those who know the true God are alike preoccupied with death.
- Fear flatters. The king who once sent an army to capture Elisha now sends a gift to honour him; sickness changed his manners, not his heart.
- Fear bargains. Forty camel-loads assume God is a trader. He is a giver, and men find that hard to grasp.
- Fear hides nothing. Hazael carried the message and a secret ambition. The prophet read both. Secret thoughts do not escape God's eye.
- Fear comes too late. Warnings were neglected and grace was mocked. Elisha's errand to Damascus starts the judgment — Hazael first, then Jehu.
And Hazael went to meet him, and took with him a present, even of every good thing of Damascus, forty camels' burden; and he came and stood before him, and said, Thy son Ben-Hadad king of Syria has sent me to thee, saying, Shall I recover from this disease?
Elisha the prophet is in Damascus, and the sick king of Syria sends Hazael to him with forty camel-loads of gifts and one question: will he live? Why does a man honour God only when he is dying, and what does he think a present will buy?
Ben-hadad had earlier sent an army to seize Elisha. Now he sends treasure. One writer sets the two moments side by side:
Elisha's service is not confined to Israel and the Land. So we read he "came to Damascus," and is found among the Gentiles. Ben-hadad, the king of Syria, is sick. In his sickness he recognises and honours the man of God. In his prosperity the king had sent a great host to capture him: in his sickness he sends a great gift to honour him. In health he seeks to surround him for his destruction: in sickness he seeks to win him over for his help. Driven by need he recognises and owns the God that until now he had despised. Such is man, and such our hearts.
The same writer turns the scene on the reader:
The world, when faced with some terrible disaster, will outwardly recognise God and turn to Him. Sadly, even a believer may walk carelessly, with little thought of God, when everything runs smoothly and health is good. But in our troubles we have to turn to God — and it is good that we do turn to God, and that we have such a God of grace to turn to.
The size of the present says something about how the sender thought God works:
Like Naaman, he was ready to pay a lot for any benefit he might receive. So he sent the man of God "a present of every good thing of Damascus, forty camels' load." God is not a trader but a giver — and a very generous giver. Men's minds seem to find that fact extremely hard to grasp. In every age men want to bargain with God — so much money or labour for so much blessing.
The question Hazael carries is about a disease, not about sin. One writer notes what the king actually wanted, and how little he knew the prophet he was trying to please:
He wants to consult the Lord through him. He is not looking for an answer to the needs of his conscience, but only to know if his life will be prolonged. … Ben-hadad knows so little about the prophet who had refused Naaman's gifts that he sends him a royal present by Hazael, hoping to get into his good graces.
The problem goes deeper than bad manners toward a prophet:
How offensive to God it is for unrenewed man to ignore the question of sin and come before Him with a gift.
Scripture never says Elisha took the camel-loads. One writer is sure what that silence means:
The present Hazael brought was amazing — 40 camel-loads of every good thing of Syria! We are not told that Elisha accepted this, and in fact we may be sure he did not. Hazael then presented Ben-hadad's question, would he recover of this disease (v.9).
Ben-hadad worshipped other gods, yet in a crisis he asks the God of Israel. One writer notices whose words the Syrian king was echoing:
These were exactly the same words that Ahaziah, king of Israel, had spoken when he sent his messenger to consult Baal-zebub (2 Kings 1:2). This shows two things. The first is that all men are constantly preoccupied with death — idolaters and those who know the true God alike.
The second thing explains why the king looked past his own gods:
The second is that the so-called religious resources they have at hand cannot satisfy. … A sun worshipper, receiving no answer from his god, preferred to turn to the man of God who was there in front of him.
Hazael delivers his master's message. One writer looks at what was moving inside the messenger as he spoke:
Hazael comes before the man of God and repeats the king's words. But deep inside him something is already stirring: hidden desire, coveting, a plan. The plan may still be vague, but it waits only to be confirmed. Elisha has read his heart. His secret thoughts do not escape God's eye.
- Sickness talks. The king who once sent soldiers to seize Elisha now sends him gifts. Trouble makes people own the God they ignored in good health.
- Gifts don't buy. Forty camel-loads assume God trades blessing for payment. He is a giver, not a trader — and men in every age find that hard to accept.
- Wrong question. Ben-hadad asks if he will live, not what his conscience needs. A gift that ignores the question of sin offends God.
- Nothing accepted. The text never says Elisha took the present; The prophet who refused Naaman's gifts would not be bought by Syria's best.
- Hearts read. The messenger carries a hidden ambition, and God's eye is already on it. An errand about one man's disease exposes another man's heart.
And Elisha said to him, Go, say to him, Thou wilt certainly recover. But Jehovah has shewn me that he shall certainly die.
Elisha is in Damascus when the king of Syria falls ill. The king sends his officer Hazael with one question: will he live? The answer comes back in two halves that contradict each other. The man who carries it will make the second half come true.
The writers quoted below use an older translation: "You may certainly recover." Much of what they say turns on that word "may."
The prophet is not contradicting himself. He is separating what the illness could do from what would actually happen.
Elisha was clearly a man who, in his day, walked with the Lord and received communications from the Lord. So he can say, in answer to the messenger, "You may certainly recover." There was nothing fatal in the disease. However, the prophet adds, "The Lord has shown me that he shall surely die." So Elisha shows that Ben-hadad is going to die, but by other means than the sickness.
The second half did not come from reading the symptoms. Another writer separates medical skill from revelation:
There was nothing fatal in his disease, and there was no natural shrewdness in the prophet. But the Lord, before whom all things are open and exposed, told him that he should surely die.
The reply would puzzle a stranger. It did not puzzle Hazael, because it landed on something already moving in him.
Elisha has read his heart. His secret thoughts do not escape God's eye. Elisha's answer would be ambiguous to anyone else. To Hazael it has a meaning that hastens his decision. His desire brings forth sin… He will certainly recover! This was exactly what Hazael feared. If the king were healed, what would become of his own plans and secret desires? "But Jehovah has shown me that he shall certainly die." Yes indeed, he tells himself, my only chance is to get rid of my master. And since God knows it and does not stop me, that justifies me.
Did the prophet tell Hazael to lie to the king? The lie came later, and it was Hazael's own. He kept the half he liked and hardened it into a promise.
The prophet had said, "You may surely recover." That meant there was nothing in the disease itself that was fatal. Then he added, "the Lord has shown me that he shall surely die." That meant Ben-hadad was to die by some means other than the disease. Hazael, however, now tells the king that the prophet had said he should surely recover. Here was the misstatement, the lie of this hypocrite. But the end strikingly shows the full, unmixed truth of the prophet's words. The disease does not kill the king. Other means do — the hand of this murderous Hazael. And so he might have recovered, but he surely dies, just as the prophet had said.
The same writer admires how the event settles such words, and then turns the story on the reader:
This puzzling style in the answers or oracles of the Spirit is worth our admiration… So here — the event makes the words "may recover" and "surely die" both true, though they sound strange to the ear… In this history we have an awful picture of human selfishness and hypocrisy. It warns us all. A look can be deep hypocrisy, just as a word can be. Our watching and prayer should be that the searching Spirit finds truth in our inward parts — truth about us everywhere, in every look, in every word, and every movement.
Hazael's own reasoning now runs on to the end. Behind it, God is preparing something larger.
The elements that make up this darkened soul are now complete. All the obscure desires and ambitions of his spirit are settled. The king may recover, but he will die. I will be king in his place and will torment Israel. From the thought to carrying it out there is only one step. So God prepares the rod that will chasten His people, until the moment when He will break the rod itself.
Yet none of it had to happen:
But God's rebellious people could have avoided all this anguish and ruin, if they had humbled themselves before Him.
- Two halves, one truth. The sickness was survivable; the man was not going to survive. Both statements held, because the killer was not the fever but the messenger.
- Revealed, not deduced. The first half was medical. The second came only because the Lord showed it to a prophet who walked with Him.
- The word exposes. One sentence puzzled outsiders. It spoke plainly to Hazael, because God's eye was already on the plan in his heart.
- The excuse of the exposed. Read to the bottom of his heart, Hazael argued that God knew his plan and did not stop it, so he was justified. Then he misquoted the message to his master. A look can hide as much hypocrisy as a word.
- A rod, not an accident. Ben-hadad's death set Hazael loose as God's rod on Israel. God would break that rod in the end, and a humbled people could have turned it aside.
And he settled his countenance stedfastly, until he was ashamed; and the man of God wept.
Elisha has come to Damascus. Hazael, the king's servant, stands before him with a question about his master's illness. Then the conversation stops. One man holds a stare until the other feels shame, and the prophet breaks into tears. Readers have long asked who was staring, and why a man of God would weep in front of a foreign official.
The verse does not say whose face was fixed, and commentators read it differently. One reading takes it as Hazael's — an act of pretended grief.
On hearing this, we read that Hazael "fixed his gaze and stared at him, until he was embarrassed." This was hypocrisy. Under the eye of the prophet, before the truthful mind of the man of God, the look on his face testified against him. He pretended sorrow at this prophecy of Benhadad's death.
Others read it the other way round. They fill in the pronouns: the prophet is staring, and Hazael cannot hold the look.
This deeply affected the prophet, and gave his face, so to speak, a look that Hazael could neither understand nor endure. "And he (Elisha) fixed his gaze and stared at him, until he (Hazael) was embarrassed. And the man of God wept."
On the second reading, the silence is not awkwardness but exposure. Hazael came with his master's question, and with something he had told no one.
But in the depths of his being something is already stirring — hidden desire, coveting, a plan, perhaps vague, but which waits only to be confirmed. Elisha has read his heart. His secret thoughts do not escape God's eye. Elisha's answer would be unclear to anyone else. To Hazael it has a meaning that speeds up his decision. His desire gives birth to sin… Under that intense gaze, which searched the hidden corners of his conscience, Hazael felt stripped bare and ill at ease… Searched to the depths of his heart, ashamed under God's gaze, he still does not give up his twisted will. He excuses it because God knows about it.
Shame is not repentance. A conscience can be stirred while the plan behind it stays in place.
Hazael, contemplating the murder of his master, feels uneasy in the presence of the man of God. His conscience makes him ashamed.
The tears are not for the sick king, and not even, in the first place, for the man in front of him. Elisha is looking past Hazael to what Hazael will do.
Elisha's answer makes clear what moves him to tears. It is not the illness of the king, or the wickedness of Hazael. It is the suffering that God's people will endure at Hazael's hands. Elisha closes his public ministry by weeping over a people who were unmoved by all his miracles of grace. So he foreshadows his far greater Master. In the closing days of His ministry of grace, He wept over the city that had rejected His grace and scorned His love.
Two sorrows are on display in the same room, and only one of them is real.
Here is the light of God shining through Elisha, making plain everything at work in a heart God has not renewed. Man in the presence of that light is as uncomfortable as he can possibly be. Hazael put on a show of grief. Elisha, with a heart overflowing with real sorrow, let his feelings out in a way no one could mistake. The servant of the Lord felt how serious the message was that he had to deliver. So it is today with every true servant of Christ. God stirs such sympathies in him, and they show themselves in a way the cold-hearted pretender cannot copy.
One writer ties these tears to something the chapter leaves out.
Elisha's commission required him to anoint Hazael and Jehu, who were to carry out judgment. Yet in the passage that tells of his meeting with Hazael, Hazael's anointing is passed over in silence. In fact, through the prophetic word God placed His rod in Hazael's hands. But the anointing could not be mentioned while the man of God, who had come in grace, was weeping bitterly over the evil that Hazael would do to the children of his people.
- Gaze. Someone holds the stare until shame sets in. Commentators differ: is the fixed face Hazael's pretended grief, or Elisha's steady look that Hazael could not endure?
- Exposed. That gaze lays bare the plan already stirring in Hazael. God's eye reaches thoughts no one else has heard.
- Unmoved. Hazael feels shame and keeps his will. He even uses God's knowledge of his plan to excuse it.
- Tears. Elisha weeps for the suffering coming on God's people, not for the dying king. He closes a ministry of grace as his greater Master closed His — in tears over those who refused Him.
- Grace. God hands Hazael the rod, but the chapter records no anointing. A man in tears announces the judgment, and that open sorrow still marks out the true servant from the cold-hearted one.
And Hazael said, Why does my lord weep? And he said, Because I know the evil that thou wilt do to the children of Israel their strongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their young men wilt thou kill with the sword, and wilt dash in pieces their children, and rip up their women with child.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And Hazael said, But what, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing? And Elisha said, Jehovah has shewn me that thou wilt be king over Syria.
Elisha has just told Hazael, a Syrian official, the cruelty he will one day inflict on Israel. Hazael recoils at the thought, but the prophet answers that the throne of Syria is coming to him anyway.
Hazael is not arguing about the facts. He is arguing about himself, and one commentator takes his shock as real.
Hazael protests that he is not a dog to act with such cold brutality. His protest is probably completely sincere. Such deeds may have been foreign to his thoughts, and even disgusting to his feelings at the time. He did not know his own heart... He little realised the depth of wickedness and cruelty in a heart that is held in check by many safeguards. Then circumstances stir it, give it the occasion, and it blazes out in all its horror... Far better for Hazael, as for us, to take the place of the woman who owned that she was indeed a dog, only to discover that there is grace in the heart of God even for a dog (Mark 7:24-30).
The comparison Hazael reaches for is meant to be the lowest thing he can think of. One writer points out that it does not go low enough.
Hazael protested — was he a dog, to act so wickedly? But a dog would not do those things: he was much worse than a dog.
Another writer senses ambition hiding under the humble word.
You can sense, more than prove, that the destruction of Israel is an important thing to Hazael. It is easy for him to call himself a dog about such a deed, but he still has the ambition to accomplish it.
Not everyone takes the outburst at face value. Commentators differ: was Hazael fooling himself, or putting on an act?
But it was very different with Hazael. First came a hypocritical show of grief — "the look on their faces bears witness against them." Then came an outburst of indignation that he should be thought capable of such crimes... He failed to deceive the man of God. So he returns to his master, gives him a false version of the prophet's message, and at once, in the most heartless way, fulfils Elisha's prediction.
If Hazael did mean his protest, how could he carry such evil and never notice it? One writer answers that his circumstances, not his character, had been holding it down.
He was ignorant both of the deceitfulness and the desperate wickedness of the heart. He did not know how many checks there are in the things around us, and in the position we hold, to stop that wickedness breaking out. It goes unsuspected, because it lies dormant until circumstances rouse it. Hazael, as prime minister, had tasted power. His master's illness now offered him the step from the responsible power of a minister to the unaccountable power of a usurper... Does the slave, groaning under his oppressor's yoke, suspect that oppression is in his own heart? If he changed places with his oppressor, would it not break out in action?
Hazael's question has become shorthand for the confidence that says "not me." One writer hears the same instinct in Peter.
One day Peter confessed his Master as "the Christ, the Son of the living God." Suppose someone had then told him that he would one day disown Him with oaths and curses. He would have been inclined to reply in another man's words: "What is your servant, who is but a dog, that he should do this great thing?" But he did it all the same.
The same reflex shows up whenever Scripture lists what the flesh is capable of, and the reader refuses to see himself in the list.
Perhaps some of our readers have not yet learned the hopeless evil of the flesh — their own flesh. To such it may be shocking to find the offensive things named in Colossians 3:5 described as "your members."
The prophet does not argue with Hazael's view of himself. He tells him what God has shown him, and the last missing piece drops into place.
Finally Elisha reveals to him why he has been sent to Damascus... The elements that make up this darkened soul are now complete. All the vague desires and ambitions of his mind settle. The king may recover, but he will die. I will be king in his place and will torment Israel. From the thought to carrying it out is only one step. This is how God prepares the rod that will chasten His people, until the moment He breaks the rod itself.
- Denial. Hazael's "am I a dog?" is a man measuring his future by his present feelings, and getting it wrong.
- Ignorance. He did not know his own heart. What looked like character was circumstance holding the evil down.
- Opportunity. Move a man from restrained power to unaccountable power, and what was dormant acts — at once, in his case.
- Mirror. Peter's denial shows the same reflex in a real believer. The question is not whether we are better than Hazael, but whether we know ourselves.
- Grace. Better than protesting the name is owning it. The woman who admitted she was a dog found grace in God's heart even for a dog.
And he departed from Elisha, and came to his master, who said to him, What did Elisha say to thee? And he said, He told me [that] thou wouldest certainly recover.
Ben Hadad, the sick king of Syria, wants one thing from the prophet Elisha: a verdict on his illness. His prime minister Hazael brings back only half the answer — and he is the reason for the half he leaves out.
Elisha's reply had two parts. The illness would not kill the king, yet the king would die. One commentator points out that the cause of death was standing in the room.
Elisha tells Hazael, in answer to the request of the king of Syria, that his master was to die, but that there was no need for him to die. Sadly, he was to die by the treacherous hand of man; and the man was there. It was none other than this Hazael. Elisha said to him, "Go, say to him, 'You shall certainly recover,' but the LORD has shown me that he shall certainly die." This was a riddle.
Hazael repeats the words Elisha gave him to say. What he leaves out is the sentence of death.
Without another word, Hazael "departed from Elisha and came to his master." He plays the hypocrite before the king. He gives part of Elisha's message, but he keeps back the news that the king would surely die. The opportunity has come for this murderer. As prime minister he has access to the king. The illness offered a convenient opening to an unscrupulous man who wanted to seize the throne. The idea of holding great power as the reigning king pulled at Hazael so strongly that he was ready to consider even murder to get it.
Hazael did not act in ignorance. But a man set on a crime can find a way to make it sound reasonable to himself. He can even turn a prophecy into permission.
Hazael returned to Ben Hadad with the message that he would recover. Of course Hazael knew he was acting in gross wickedness when he smothered Ben Hadad to death in secret with a thick cloth soaked in water (v.15). But we can easily imagine how he would excuse his action to himself. He would feel safe in doing what he did. Had the prophet not said that Ben Hadad would die and that Hazael would reign in his place? Also the king was sick, and who would suspect he had not died of his sickness?
Just before this, Elisha had described the cruelties Hazael would commit. Hazael drew back and protested that he was no dog. (Older translations read his reply as that denial; the ESV renders it "who is but a dog".)
Hazael is not the only person who seems unable to grasp all the evil that human nature is capable of. It is likely that he had never committed such horrors before. So he shrank back from the terrible suggestions. But the outcome tells another story. Once he found himself in a position of power, he committed every one of the savage deeds Elisha warned him about. As others have truly said, many of us are harmless only because our position in society does not allow us to be anything else.
Another writer points to a woman in the Gospels who accepted the very name Hazael refused.
Perhaps his protest was completely sincere. Such deeds may have been foreign to his thoughts, and even hateful to his feelings at that moment. He did not know his own heart. He was not aware that the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Instead of asking, "Is your servant a dog?" it would have been far better for Hazael, and for us, to take the same position as the Syrophoenician woman. She admitted that she was indeed a dog. And she found that there is grace in the heart of God even for a dog (Mark 7:24-30).
Hazael's report to his master is the first step in a long record of bloodshed. Yet none of it had to happen.
Hazael may have been startled by the prophet's announcement. In the end, though, he did everything the prophet said he would do. First, on his return to Damascus he murdered his master in his bed and seized his throne. Then for many years he waged merciless war on both Israel and Judah, and brought terrible suffering on the people. But God's rebellious people could have escaped all the anguish and ruin by humbling themselves before Him.
- Riddle — Elisha's answer joined two truths: the disease would not kill the king, yet the king would die. The man carrying the message solved the riddle.
- Half-message — Hazael reported the recovery and buried the death sentence. Giving part of the truth was how he played the hypocrite.
- Excuse — The prophecy became his permission, and the sickness his cover. A man set on evil can make his crime feel safe.
- Dog — His earlier shock at such cruelty was probably sincere, because he did not know his own heart. Many are harmless only because their position does not let them be otherwise.
- Sword — Every cruelty Elisha predicted came true. Yet God's people could have escaped the whole ruin by humbling themselves before Him.
And it came to pass the next day, that he took the coverlet and dipped [it] in water, and spread it over his face, so that he died; and Hazael reigned in his stead.
Hazael returns from the prophet to a sick king and reports a lie. One verse then holds a murder, a cover-up and a crowning — and all of it falls out just as Elisha had said.
Hazael's crime began with his report. Elisha's answer had two halves, and Hazael delivered only the half that suited him.
Hazael returns to Ben-hadad and misreports the prophet's answer to his question. The prophet had said, "You may certainly recover." He meant there was nothing in the disease itself that was fatal. Then he added, "the Lord has shown me that he shall surely die." He meant that Ben-hadad was to die by some other means than the disease. But Hazael now tells the king that the prophet had said "he should surely recover." That was the misstatement, the lie of this hypocrite. But the end strikingly shows the full, unmixed truth of the prophet's words. The disease does not kill the king. Other means do — the hand of this murderous Hazael. And so he might have recovered, yet he surely dies, as the prophet had spoken.
The king's weakness was not only the occasion of the crime. It was also the disguise.
As prime minister he has access to the king. The illness gave an unscrupulous man a good chance to seize the throne. The thought of ruling as king drew Hazael so strongly that he would even consider murder to get it. The sickness and weakness of the king made murder appear so easy. Everyone would know that the king was ill. They knew he feared he might not recover, and so had sent his prime minister to the prophet to ask whether he would die. No one need know what Elisha had said to Hazael. What could be easier? He could take a thick damp cloth and suffocate the helpless king, already weak with sickness. Then he could tell the world that the sickness had proved fatal.
Hazael had a ready-made excuse to give himself.
Of course Hazael knew he was acting in gross wickedness when he smothered Ben Hadad to death in private with a thick cloth soaked in water (v.15). But we can easily imagine how he would excuse it to himself. He would feel safe in doing what he did. Had the prophet not said that Ben Hadad would die, and that Hazael would reign in his place? Also the king was sick, and who would suspect that he had not died of his sickness?
Earlier Hazael had protested that he could never do such things. The protest missed the real danger.
He did not know his own heart. He was not aware that the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. As with ourselves too often, he little realised the depth of wickedness and cruelty in the human heart. Many a safeguard holds that heart in check. Then circumstances stir it and give it the occasion, and it blazes out in all its horror. He asked, "Is your servant a dog?" Far better for Hazael, as for us, to take the ground of the Syrophoenician woman, who admitted she was indeed a dog. She then discovered that there is grace in the heart of God even for a dog (Mark 7:24-30).
Power removed the check on him the moment he took the throne.
He had likely never committed such atrocities before. So he recoiled from the terrible suggestion. But the outcome proves otherwise. In the place of power, he did every one of the savage deeds Elisha warned him about. As someone has truly said, many of us are harmless only because our position in society does not allow us to be otherwise.
Years of patient grace had changed nothing in Israel. Hazael is what came next.
Elisha's ministry of grace was practically fruitless. Israel sinned more and more. The time had come, then, for the sword to be unsheathed. So we have the ministers of wrath appointed — Hazael, in 2 Kings 8:7-15; and Jehu, in 2 Kings 9:1-10.
What began in a sickroom did not stay there.
So it came to pass: the prime minister becomes a murderer, and the murderer seizes the throne. The man who reaches a throne by murder will not hesitate to try to keep that throne by violence and cruelty. As Elisha foresees, Hazael will carry fire and sword among God's people.
- Lie — Hazael edited the prophet's message before he touched the cloth. The murder was his second act, not his first.
- Excuse — In a wicked heart, God's word about the future became permission to make it happen.
- Blindness — He could not believe such crimes of himself, because he did not know his own heart.
- Opportunity — Circumstance held him back, not goodness. Power removed the check, and he did everything Elisha had named.
- Consequence — Murder won the throne and cruelty kept it. God let that cruelty fall on a people who had wasted years of grace.