CRITICAL NOTES.—
Proverbs 21:9. Wide house. Literally a house of companionship, i.e., to share the house with her.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF Proverbs 21:9; Proverbs 21:19
AN ANGRY WOMAN
I. No social discomfort is to be compared to that of an ill-tempered wife. A corner of the housetop would be exposed to the rain and to the storm, both of which, in eastern countries, are generally of a violent character; and although it is not uncommon for orientals sometimes to pass the night there, it would be most undesirable to be obliged at all seasons, and under all circumstances, to have no other place of refuge. He who had to dwell there would at one time be subjected to the intense heat of the mid-day sun, and at another would be chilled by the midnight air. Neither is the wilderness a pleasant place of abode. In addition to all the drawbacks of the housetop arising from exposure to the weather, a wilderness is a place of dreary solitude, and often of danger from wild beasts and lawless men. But it is better to dwell in either of these places than with a brawling or even with an angry woman.
1. Because one might enjoy intervals of repose. The rain would not always descend, neither would the storm-wind be always blowing; the sun would sometimes give forth only an agreeable warmth, and the night-wind bring only a refreshing coolness. Even in the wilderness the solitude would sometimes be enjoyable, and life there would not always be in peril. But the woman pictured here is one whose ill-temper is always ruling her and casting gloom over the home, and when there is no storm of passion actually raging there is one brewing and ready to burst forth. The unhappy partner of her life can never look forward to an hour of ease, for the lulls in the storm are but momentary, and the rifts in the clouds obscured again immediately.
2. Because, whatever may be the discomforts of a housetop or wilderness dwelling, they may leave the soul at rest. They can but reach the body, and the mind may be so absolutely calm or absorbed in thought as to be almost unconscious of what is passing without. To some men solitude has such charms that they are willing to forego many bodily comforts in order to obtain it. There have been and are those whose own thoughts are the only company they desire, and who would gladly brave the drawbacks of the housetop or the wilderness, if by so doing they could be left undisturbed to indulge their own speculations, or pursue their meditations. But the sharp tongue of a contentious woman leaves no corner of the soul undisturbed. It is vain for the subject of it to seek refuge in reflection upon more agreeable topics, to endeavour to banish the actual present by calling up images of the future, or of unseen though distant realities. All the powers of the mind are paralyzed by such an incubus, and the soul cannot wing its flight into pleasanter regions, as it can do sometimes when the suffering only touches the outer man.
II. External good fortune is no proof against this domestic curse. The “wide house” or the “house of companionship,” suggests a goodly mansion—a dwelling which might be the centre of social gatherings, and whose owner is able to indulge in hospitality on a large scale. It calls up before us not the top-story garret of the very poor, or even the narrow dwelling of a struggling man, where the fight for bread, and the effort to make both ends meet, may have something to do with spoiling the temper of the housewife. But the angry and contentious woman is not confined to these abodes—Solomon almost seems to speak here from experience, but even if he did not, we know that even palace walls cannot keep out the curse, and that there is often such a skeleton at the most sumptuous feast.
OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS
The family is sometimes a fierce fire. It comprehends the greatest portion of our world. It is to us the most interesting, and therefore is capable of becoming the most trying portion.—Cecil.
Everyone has known some pair chained together by human laws where the heart’s union has either never existed or been rent asunder. Two ships at sea are bound together by strong, short chains. As long as the sea remains perfectly calm all may be well with both; though they do each other no good, they may not inflict much evil. But the sea never rests long, and seldom rests at all. Woe to these two ships when the waves begin to roll. There are two conditions in which they might be safe. If they were either brought more closely together, or more widely separated, it might yet be well with them. If they were from stern to stern riveted into one, or if the chain were broken and the two left to follow independently their several courses, there would be no further cause of anxiety on their account. If they are so united that they shall move as one body, they are safe; if they move far apart, they are safe. The worst possible position is to be chained together, and yet have separate and independent motion in the waves. They will rasp each other’s sides off, and tear open each other’s heart, and go down together.—Arnot.
Better to retire into a corner of the housetop than to quit the house and go into bad company for diversion, as many who, like Adam, make their wife’s sin the excuse of their own.—Henry.