The Ashteroth alter plumed with purple clouds of incense to carry the human senses into ecstasy. A robust and brightly painted Gomer sprawled beneath the sacred tree stemming up from dark soil and praying for fertile miracles. Baal, Baal! Lord, Lord! Possessor, Possessor! Dominate and detailed in its husbandry. The baals of Canaan wanted all forms of sensuous lust to encourage the fertility of earthen dust. Ashteroth spread her vanities to the east wind.. .Baal, Baal!
Possessor or Lord. The term “baal” was a title, an appendage to a name, a designation that one entity or being resided and lorded over another. Was Gomer to be lorded? To be dominated? To be used? Here lay the carcasses of humanity. Both male and female lingering in an odd state of ecstasy that rendered them defiled and used, controlled by the senses… .lorded over by dominate deities of earthen soil. These deities pronounced themselves keepers of mankind’s ability to survive and mankind’s ability to survive therefore depended upon their slavery to adulterous senses….
Hosea hesitated on the open highway. His limbs shook. His heart pounded in his ears. Sweat poured underneath his well trimmed beard; it puddled between his fingers in valleys and stuck to the short black hairs of his shins. The taupe linen cloak enshrouded his figure and face. No one, he hoped, would recognize the eyes peering over the gauzy froth he mounded around his forehead and mouth. No one, he hoped.
“And in that day, declares the Lord, you will call me ‘My husband,’ and no longer will you call me ‘My Baal’,” Hosea 2:16.
The husband shook as he drew nearer the mound of smoldering incense. Incessantly, he fumbled the package of small cakes tucked beneath his right arm. The pace slowed. The air swooned. The arid breeze waved six inches before his vision. It murmured. Muttered. He moved backward to the floating chant of natural highs. Hosea let his feet drop and drove his heels into the road to keep balance. He winced hard to force tear flow to his reddening eyes. She was lulling beneath the Ashtoreth; sweetly almost like an ignorant child.
The raisin cakes were her favorite. The very same delicacy enjoyed at festivals of the baals. A funny thought to bring her these. Proof, I suppose, that everything bad is good for you in some way. Or, perhaps I should say, everything enjoyable can be degraded. He made the cakes with prayer. I mean, Hosea kneaded and pressed and shaped and baked the little cakes with mouthfuls of blessing prayers pouring out of his bothered rendezvous with Divine pathos. The prayers went up, the cakes went in and Hosea went searching for one he loved. Gifts for Gomer and fifteen silver shekels and nine bushels of barley for the baalish priest hiding around the corner… .the price for a prostitute.
And Hosea said to the woman under the tree, after he had conspicuously paid the prostitute wage, “You must dwell as mine for many days. You shall not play the whore, or belong to another man; so will I also be to you,” Hosea 3:3.
Like a dweller “so will I also be to you”. Like one bought at a price “so will I also be to you”. Like one belonging to another - to you - “so will I also be to you”. Like I am yours as you are mine “so will I also be to you”. Like a husband….
Purchased. Paid for. Just a prostitute. A slave to this religiously sensual pattern of sin. Purchased. Paid for. Just like the prostitute she was. A funny thought that when paying it he said “so will I also be to you”. Purchased. Paid for. Like a… No, not like a prostitute. Like a Lover. A Husband. This was not baalish. Not a reckless, feverish, manipulative, controlling possession. “…so will I also be to you” like one purchased with love. With pathos and compassion, dwell with me, prays the prophet. He paid the wages for a prostitute and offered the remainder of himself for a wife. He was like a Husband.