II Kings 10

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 10. In it, Jehu brings about the death of three groups of people: seventy sons of Ahab; the visiting brothers of Ahaziah, who was the slain king of Judah and also the son of Athaliah, the daughter of Omri, Ahab’s father (II Kings 8:26); and the prophets, servants, and priests of Baal. In the process, Jehu eliminates people from Ahab’s family who can challenge his claim to the throne, as well as extirpates Baalism from Northern Israel.

Eliminating potential competitors to the throne was standard practice for a usurping king (Robert Wilson cites II Samuel 3-4; I Kings 15:28-30; 16:8-14), and yet, there’s some sense in the Bible that such a practice is wrong. For example, although Jehu gets leaders in Samaria to chop off the heads of Ahab’s sons, when he goes before the people of Israel, he acts as if he had nothing to do with the slaughter. He confesses that he slew the king of Israel, probably because that was common knowledge by that time. But then he publically wonders who murdered the seventy sons of Ahab, as if he wasn’t the one who ordered that to occur. Jehu goes on to say that this occurred to fulfill Elijah’s prophecy that the house of Ahab would be destroyed. And so Jehu justifies the gruesome murder of Ahab’s sons, without taking responsibility for it. There was a sense in his mind and that of his audience that such an act was abominable, albeit a necessary evil.

Similarly (but with more authenticity than Jehu had), David expresses sadness at the deaths of Saul, Jonathan, Ish-bosheth, and Abner—all potential claimants to the throne of Israel. When Solomon becomes king, he doesn’t immediately kill every Saulite or adherent to his competitor for the throne, Adonijah. Rather, in most cases, he waits for them to screw up, and then he has them killed. In I Kings 16, God acknowledges that he lifted Baasha out of the dust and made him the king of Israel, and yet God condemns Baasha for killing off the house of the preceding dynasty, that of Jeroboam. But wasn’t the destruction of the house of Jeroboam the express will of God (see I Kings 14:10), God’s judgment for Jeroboam’s sin?

This sort of issue crops up again in terms of II Kings 10: God condemning someone for doing something that was a part of God’s judgment against a people. Jehu slaughtered a lot of people in Jezreel, carrying out God’s judgment against the house of Ahab and Jezebel. And yet, in Hosea 1:4, God promises to avenge the blood of Jezreel upon the house of Jehu, and to bring to an end the kingdom of the house of Israel. This, even though God expressed pleasure at Jehu’s act in II Kings 10:30! In II Kings 10:32-33, we read that God began to “cut Israel short”, as Hazael, the king of Syria, smote the Israelites in Gilead, in the Transjordan. We see here an act of God’s judgment. And yet, in Amos 1:3-4, God promises to punish Syria for threshing Gilead.

Why does God condemn people who carry out his judgment? I can’t find all the relevant Bible passages, but a big part of the issue is that the instrument of God’s judgment becomes proud, or takes pleasure in inflicting pain on others, or is more excessive than he needs to be. That’s what makes God mad. And I read commentaries today that said that Jehu fit this description: Jehu was more excessive than he needed to be, but he also didn’t conduct his activity for the glory and honor of God. Rather, he was looking out for his own political self-interest. The evidence for this is that he didn’t completely honor God after he took the throne; instead, he maintained the worship of the golden calves, which Jeroboam had set up.

Then there’s the mysterious character of Jehonadab, the son of Rechab. We encounter this guy in Jeremiah 35. God praises Jehonadab’s sons because, in obedience to Jehonadab, they refused to drink alcohol, to sow seed, and to plant vineyards; rather, they chose to live in tents. Maybe they preferred the simpler life, viewing civilization and settlement as signs of corruption. Or perhaps, as some scholars have suggested, they were in the metal industry, and so they refrained from alcohol in order to keep secret their prized knowledge of metallurgy, and they refused to settle because they were continually on the move, going to new places after they used up the metal resources in a previous place. Obviously, they did move! In II Kings 10, the Rechabites are in Northern Israel. By the time of Jeremiah 35, they’re in Judah!

In any case, this fierce Yahwist, Jehonadab, is on Jehu’s side. To Jehu’s credit, he sought the support of a true-blue Yahwist, someone whom many Northern Israelites would consider a fanatic. But what did Jehonadab think about Jehu’s slaughters? We don’t know if Jehonadab was aware that Jehu was the one who killed the seventy sons of Ahab. But several commentaries that I read affirmed that Jehonadab liked what Jehu was doing: he thought that Jehu was reforming Israel and bringing her back to God.

It’s tempting to view Jehonadab as a cold religionist: as someone who observed legalistic orders (no alcohol, no agriculture, no vineyards), while neglecting to love his fellow human beings, in this case, the sons of Ahab, the brothers of Ahaziah, and the religious establishment of Baal. And yet, Jehu was conducting God’s justice on the house of Ahab for its slaughter of the prophets of the LORD, and of Naboth. So there was some humanitarian impulse in what Jehu was doing: he was avenging the house of Ahab’s acts of injustice. But Elijah himself killed the prophets of Baal. Was the problem in the Bible that Ahab murdered human beings, or that he murdered human beings who were prophets of the LORD, people who would kill off the other side (the Baalites), if they had a chance?

For me, the Bible is a document that teaches compassion. We see this when God condemns his instruments of justice for being too severe, for actually enjoying their performance of brutal acts! But I also observe that religion can become cold, as it adheres to legalism or “one right way”, while disregarding the humanity of those who are different. And yet, even then, there is a need for justice, for blood does cry out.