Jamie Duguid on Elisha and the She-Bears

Yesterday, Derek Rishmawy posted some comments about the troubling story in II Kings 2 about God sending she-bears to maul young people who were mocking the prophet Elisha.  Jamie Duguid left an informative comment under Derek’s post about that story, from a different perspective.  Among other topics, Jamie was disagreeing with the conservative Christian argument that the young people in the story were young adults rather than children, and he was also placing the story within the context of other passages in the Hebrew Bible.

Here is his comment:

First off, as an avid student of the Old Testament, I am always happy to see people taking the time to wrestle with these difficult OT texts. So it makes me happy to see you doing that! I have enjoyed a lot of your blog posts before, but since this happens to be a pet issue of mine, I am going to go ahead and jump in for the first time.

This is, of course, one of those classic difficult texts, and the idea that these were not little kids but menacing adolescents or something is argued by several scholars. However, it is definitely wrong for a couple reasons:

1) While it is true that the word for “boys” here, “naʕar,” can mean a young boy, a young man, or a servant of any age, dependent on context, it is modified here by “small, ” “qāṭān.” “Naʕar” may be a spectrum, but it seems to me that when modified by “small,” it must refer to the younger end of the spectrum. After all, what would we be meant to think of if we translated the phrase “small young men?” How are they small? The best explanation is that here, “naʕar” means “boy” in the sense of “child.”

2) The same children are referred to by the noun “yeled” in v. 24. Now this noun almost always designates very young children. While this noun too can mean a young man in some contexts (often where the youth of a young man is emphasized), it more usually refers to children.

3) We should probably read this story against the background of Leviticus 26:22, where one of the covenant curses is that wild beasts will attack the children of the Israelites (see also Deut 32:24-25). Leithart is right to bring up Bethel’s idolatrous associations, but misses the fact that wild animals attacking *children* is actually the sort of judgment we might expect upon such a wicked city.

4) It is not uncommon in the book of Kings for harsh punishment to be meted out for minor offenses. Think of the man of God in chapter 13 who is killed by a lion, even though his disobedience seems reasonable given the lie the second prophet tells. Or the son of a prophet who is destined to be killed (again by a lion), just for refusing to hit someone (1 Kings 20:35-43). What these passages, together with 2 Kings 2, have in common (other than the punishment always being meted out by wild beasts) is that in each case the sin involves insufficient respect for the prophet/prophetic word. I think these passages seemed harsh to their original audience as well. I think the point being communicated here is the extreme danger of deviating even slightly from the prophetic word. The very harshness of the passages is meant to make us sit up and say, “Wow, I guess God takes his Word very seriously, much more seriously than I do.” It is especially important to remember that these stories occur in the context of competing false prophets, who also claimed to bring the Word of Yahweh. Ultimately, the fact that Israel was not sufficiently careful to listen to the true prophets of Yahweh lead to catastrophe for the nation. These harsh moments along the way were meant to be warnings that could have prevented this.

What about the theodicy question though? Well, that is still difficult, but I don’t see that we gain much by trying to edit the children out of the story here. We would still have God’s threat of curses resulting in the death of small children in Leviticus 26:22 and Deuteronomy 32:25 to deal with. And the infamous Psalm 137:9. For that matter, this whole issue is raised simply by the doctrine of original sin: after all, if you say that all children are culpable for Adam’s sin, and thus deserving of divine wrath, but you have a problem with this story, you might want to go back a little bit and think about what “deserving of divine wrath” really means, because this is just the practical outworking of it.

I don’t have an easy answer to that question. God’s judgment seems overly-harsh to me too sometimes. But since I am convinced that Scripture teaches these things, I usually assume that the problem is with me. And maybe it is ok to be horrified by God sometimes… God is perfectly just in his wrath, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that his wrath is something we will ever be totally comfortable with.

James here again.  You may also be interested in this post that I wrote a while back about II Kings 2.

Jesus and Elisha Disregard the Firstfruits Law? Esther Violates the Passover?

In my latest reading of John's Gospel: The Way It Happened, Lee Harmon makes an interesting point about the story of Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fishes in John 6.  According to Lee, Jesus and the people were eating loaves that were illegal for them to eat!

On what basis does Lee argue this?  In Leviticus 23:10-22, we see the law of the firstfruits.  On the day after some Sabbath that was soon after the Passover (Second Temple Jews debated which Sabbath it was), Israelites were to bring a sheaf of their harvest-firstfruits to the central sanctuary, and the priest would then wave that sheaf before the LORD.  Leviticus 23:14 states (in the King James Version): "And ye shall eat neither bread, nor parched corn, nor green ears, until the selfsame day that ye have brought an offering unto your God: it shall be a statute for ever throughout your generations in all your dwellings."  The wavesheaf ritual was associated with the barley harvest.  Before the wavesheaf ritual that took place soon after the Passover, the Israelites could eat neither corn nor bread from the barley that they had just harvested.

In John 6, there is the Johannine story of Jesus multiplying the loaves.  There are two things in John 6 that are noteworthy, in light of the law in Leviticus 23:10-22.  First, John 6:13 says that the loaves were barley loaves.  And second, John 6:4 says that the Passover was near, which means that John 6 is set soon before the Passover, not soon after it.  Jesus and the Jews in John 6 are arguably eating bread that's made of barley from the recent harvest, before the possessor of that barley has presented the firstfruits to God.  That, according to Leviticus 23:14, is a no-no.

According to Lee, how could Jesus justify doing something that was against the Torah?  Lee offers two answers, as far as I can see.  First, on page 117, Lee says that Jesus was teaching about a new age.  The idea here is probably that the old law does not entirely apply now that Jesus has come and inaugurated something new.

Second, on page 118, Lee presents Jesus appealing to the story in II Kings 4:42-44, in which the prophet Elisha multiplies loaves for a hundred people.  II Kings 4:42 states (again, in the KJV): "And there came a man from Baalshalisha, and brought the man of God bread of the firstfruits, twenty loaves of barley, and full ears of corn in the husk thereof."  Lee's idea appears to be this: Rather than taking the firstfruits to God, as he was supposed to do, the man was using them as food for himself, Elisha, and a multitude.  And Elisha did not condemn the man for failing to present his firstfruits before God, but rather he proceeded to multiply the food.

I heard a similar idea in an adult ed class that I took on the Book of Esther.  In Esther 3:12, we read that the King of Persia's scribes on the thirteenth day of the first month (which is identified as Nisan in v 7) write the decree about the extermination of the Jews.  In Esther 4, Esther proclaims a fast for three days for the Jews in Shushan.  Remember that the Passover is on the fourteenth day of the first month, Nisan (Exodus 12).  On the Passover, the Israelites are to eat unleavened bread and bitter herbs.  Was Esther telling Jews to fast on a day on which the Torah commanded them to eat?  Was she disregarding the Torah?

I suppose that one can ask a lot of questions about these scenarios.  How do we know that the barley loaves in John 6 were from freshly harvested barley, rather than from barley from the previous year?  Was the man in I Kings 4:42-44 required to offer all of his firstfruits to God, when Exodus 23:19 commands the Israelites to bring the first of their firstfruits?  Can we really say for sure that the Jews in Shoshan fasted during the Passover and the Days of Unleavened Bread, since perhaps it took quite some time for the decree to be promulgated after it was written down on the thirteenth of Nisan?  But, come to think of it, Esther would probably hear about the decree pretty fast, since, as queen, she lived in the capitol city.

Was Jesus consciously disobeying the Torah when he multiplied the barley loaves?  I vaguely recall reading in John Meier's The Marginal Jew that Jesus was not violating laws out of a conscious need to proclaim their nullification, but rather certain laws did not enter into his mind.  (I'm open to correction on this, as it has been a while since I read Meier.)  At the same time, there were occasions when Jesus put well being above ritual, even in John's Gospel.  Could that be going on in John 6?  After all, perhaps there is some reason that John 6 specifies that the Passover was near, which means that the firstfruits had not been offered yet.

Assyria, Babylon, Whoever!

On page 131 of Messianism Within the Scriptural Scrolls of Isaiah, Randall Heskett states the following:

“[Isaiah] 11:11-16 reflects the exact style and order of the fifth century oracle in 62:10-12. The way in which the editors have linked these promises of salvation to the nations in 11:10-12, with 11:1-9, shows that the rule of this king now extends to the whole earth (contra Wegner). For if one could prove that vv. 1-9 were pre-exilic (though this is not likely), vv. 10-12 shape vv. 1-9 by a response to the exile, using some elements that are part of (post-exilic) messianism. For example, vv. 10-11 claim that all nations will seek “the stump of Jesse,” the exiles will return from foreign nations and all of Israel’s enemies will be defeated.”

But these messianic oracles refer to Assyria. Wouldn’t that make sense in the time that Assyria was a major power and threat to Judah: the eighth century B.C.E., Judah’s pre-exilic period? I think Isaiah was predicting that Assyria would really decimate Judah and take exiles, but that God would restore Judah—her people and her weakened monarchy (the stump)—after his judgment and purification of her. God would rebuild Judah from a remnant and returning exiles, and Judah and Ephraim would then be a light to the nations. Why would Assyria be a major culprit in a post-exilic writing? In such a case, would Assyria be a symbol for another nation—one that was powerful in the post-exilic period? In my opinion, it’s easier to say that Assyria was Assyria in the eighth century B.C.E. Isaiah expected Assyria to do certain things, but these things did not happen, for God delivered Jerusalem out of Assyria’s hands. In a sense, God changed his mind. And yet, in a way that I do not understand, God’s plan to preserve a remnant remained (Isaiah 37:32).

My problem with my interpretation is this: had Judah experienced God’s judgment at the hands of the Assyrians, God would have then rebuilt the nation and established the paradise described in Isaiah 2 and 11; but Hezekiah trusted in God, and so the LORD delivered Judah from the Assyrians, and there was thus no paradise. So, in my scenario, things would have turned out better for Judah and the world had Hezekiah not trusted in God. Does that sound right?

On page 112, Randall talks about the different uses of “Immanuel” (“God with us”) in Isaiah 8. In vv 6-8, Immanuel is associated with God’s judgment against Judah, at the hands of the king of Assyria. (A professor of mine once said that this teaches there’s no cheap grace: God being with us can entail purification and judgment for God’s people, not just goodies.) In vv 9-10, however, Immanuel is interpreted in terms of God saving Judah from her enemies. Randall states on pages 111-112:

“Even if vv. 9-10 originally spoke of the time of Assyrian domination, the later editing in 8:19-22 underscores that God’s judgment was ultimately achieved in 587 B.C.E., thus temporarily setting YHWH’s protection in abeyance. In the aftermath of Nebuchadnezzar’s invasion, Judah would have understood vv. 6-8 as having been fulfilled, and 8:9-10 would now present ‘God with us’ as a sign of future salvation.”

But how could the editors of Isaiah understand Isaiah 8:6-8 in light of Nebuchadnezzar’s conquest and exile of the Jews in 587 B.C.E., when those verses clearly refer to Assyria, not Babylon? My thought is that the editors weren’t particularly strict when it came to the identity of the conquering nation. I vaguely recall seeing rabbinic writings that apply biblical writings about Jerusalem’s destruction in 587 B.C.E. to her destruction in 70 C.E., even though the Babylonians did the first destruction, whereas the Romans did the second one.

Moreover, in my weekly quiet time on II Kings, as I read the Jewish Encyclopedia‘s articles on Nebuchadnezzar and Nebuzaradan, I saw that rabbinic literature—in a sense—tended to conflate the Assyrians with the Babylonians. This article on Nebuchadnezzar cites rabbinic sources in which Nebuchadnezzar is depicted as the son-in-law of Sennacherib of Assyria, “with whom he took part in the expedition of the Assyrians against Hezekiah”. According to rabbinic literature, Nebuzaradan, too, ”witnessed Sennacherib’s defeat before the walls of Jerusalem” (see here). Then there’s the Book of Judith, which calls Nebuchadnezzar the king of Assyria.

So interpreters may have been more fluid than I might initially suspect when it came to the identity of Israel’s enemy. Even if a prophecy applied to Assyria, later editors could read it in light of Babylon.

II Kings 25; Almost Done with Randall’s Book

1. Today was a Sabbath, namely, the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles, and so I did a weekly quiet time. I studied II Kings 25, which is the last chapter of the book.

I like how it ends on a note of hope: Evil-Merodach, the king of Babylon who succeeded Nebuchadnezzar, releases King Jehoiachin of Judah from prison, elevates Jehoiachin above the other captive kings, allows Jehoiachin to dine in his presence, and gives him a regular allowance. If the Deuteronomistic History was composed in exile, then it seems to be searching for some glimmer of hope amidst dark circumstances. The Deuteronomist doesn't draw sweeping conclusions from Evil-Merodach's elevation of Jehoiachin ("Oh, the exile is coming to a close!"). He just mentions it. But why does he mention it? I think it's because he deems it significant: he wonders if its an indication that God hasn't given up on his people.

I'm not big on getting my hopes up, for that leads me to disappointment. I've had times in my life when I've interpreted good things in my life as a sign that God was leading me in a certain direction, only to find myself, well, not where I was expecting God to lead me! But I don't think it's wrong for me to look at a situation that appears to be hopeful and to think, "Maybe, just maybe." But I also have to be willing to cope with a "maybe not."

Where will I go next in my weekly quiet time? Answer: the Book of Ecclesiastes! I'm curious about how faith communities that believe in an afterlife cope with a book that appears to deny an afterlife. Well, many of them reinterpret the book's message to be consistent with an afterlife! But how do they interact with the passages in Ecclesiastes that contradict that? That's one question that will be swimming through my mind as I study the Book of Ecclesiastes and its interpreters!

2. I was expecting to finish Randall Short's The Surprising Election and Confirmation of King David today, but that did not happen! I'll probably get it done tonight, though.

In my reading today, Randall points out times in the narrative where Saul calls David his son, and he also notes that Saul rarely refers to Jonathan as his son, nor does Jonathan call Saul his father all that often. When they do so, the context is usually negative.

I'm not entirely sure what Randall's point is here, but it may have to do with the narrative's attempt to uphold David's right to the throne. Randall says that David takes Jonathan's place as the one who fights the battles of the LORD. In a sense, David is like a son of Saul, the one who will obviously become Saul's heir and successor. Randall also notes passages in which David is said to perform kingly duties even before he becomes king, in a time when he's on the run from Saul! David fights the LORD's battles and leads people, even then.

That reminds me of a book I read at Harvard Divinity School, Parker Palmer's Let Your Life Speak. Palmer said that we can tell what our destiny will be---or what our vocation should be---by looking at what we've enjoyed doing throughout our lives. He, for example, liked to write as a child, and he grew up to become a writer. There's a connection between where we are and where God is taking us. At the same time, if you're in a bleak situation, my opinion (for what it's worth) is that you shouldn't despair, for God can put you in situations to discover and develop your talents.

Randall also discussed the point that Samuel needed to anoint David in secrecy, for he didn't want to get in trouble with Saul. That may be true in the narrative. At the same time, Samuel did confront Saul and declare that God had rejected Saul from being king, so was Samuel really that afraid of Saul? But telling Saul something is one thing. Actually going out and anointing another king is something else!

As I've told my readers before, I've done "The Church of James Pate's Brain" to help me fall asleep. Most of the time, I fantasize about having a church radio program (or, actually, a station) in which I preach about God's love and mercy. But I've tried to do some episodes in which I speak to Bible times. In some cases, I just pretend that radios existed back then and that ancient Israelites were listening to them! But that's too unrealistic, and so I imagine myself setting up proclamation sessions in the open air, preaching to ancient Israelites---like a tent revival. When I was on the Saul and David times, I was preaching in favor of David. Then it hit me: had I really done that, I probably would have lost my life, for I would have been proclaiming treason against King Saul---at least in the eyes of Saul and his sympathizers!

Finishing Blocher; Price-Controls; II Kings 24

1. I finished Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning just now. In his appendix, he discusses the creationist/evolutionist debate, presenting each side in a fair manner (in my opinion). He finds the young-earth, anti-evolution creationist arguments to be wanting, contending that one can believe in the Bible while accepting the old age of the earth and evolution. Blocher says that we don’t have to take Genesis 1 literally, and that God can use natural processes. Regarding early man, I’m not sure where Blocher stands. He talks some about when man got to the point where he was in the image of God, but he remarks that “we are not quite certain what it is we are looking for when we try to discover the first man largely in terms of incomplete skeletons” (page 231).

I was hoping that this book would focus more on how to reconcile the Bible and evolution, from an evangelical perspective. Maybe there are jewels in it that I missed. Right now, I want to move on to something else. I’m thinking of Kenneth Miller’s Finding Darwin’s God.

2. In Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lessons, I read about government price-controls, the minimum wage, and unions. Hazlitt criticizes all three as detriments to production, although he does praise unions for promoting skills in workers. Hazlitt’s argument against price-controls is that they create shortages. If a company can’t raise prices so it can earn enough money to produce stuff and make a profit, then it just won’t produce stuff. (I think that’s what he’s saying.) But why can’t the company produce more stuff, sell it at a low price, and earn more money that way? Maybe Hazlitt would say that the high prices are essential for the company to get the structure it needs in order to do that.

3. My weekly quiet time was on II Kings 24. I guess what stood out to me was the oddness of the chapter. God sends enemies against Judah in the days of King Jehoiakim, in order to remove Judah from his sight, on account of the sins of Manasseh. But Judah is not removed from God’s sight during the reign of Jehoiakim, for Jehoiakim is replaced with another king from the line of David, Jehoiachin. Under Jehoiachin, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon besieges Jerusalem and takes away her palace elite, her mighty men of war, and her smiths and craftsmen. How could Judah do anything militarily now? And yet, Jehoiachin’s successor, Zedekiah, feels confident enough to revolt, under the prompting of God, who’s setting Judah up to fail! Zedekiah may have gotten soldiers from the population of Judah, only they weren’t “mighty men”.

Closing Off Yom Kippur...

The Day of Atonement is drawing to a close. This year, I’ve drawn lessons on it from a variety of sources: my weekly quiet time on II Kings 24, Harold Kushner’s Who Needs God?, Miroslav Volf’s Against the Tide, Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning, Henry Hazlitt's Economics in One Lesson, and my personal experience.

What I’ve concluded is that there have been times in my life when I have been selfish and have not thought about how I have impacted others. Now, I should work to have compassion and empathy for other people.

But don’t I already know this? Don’t I write about it on my blog? Don’t I remind myself of that when I do the “Church of James Pate’s Brain” at night, as I try to fall asleep?

Yes, but it’s still a battle. There is good and there is evil within me. I need to “yield to that right spirit”, as my Grandpa Pate would say. It’s a daily decision. And God loves me through all of it.

Why fast this time of year? Well, I think it’s a good idea for me to fast sometime—to get closer to God, or to be reminded of my vulnerability, or to learn to appreciate food. Fasting also sets apart this day as special, and gives me an opportunity to think about God and where I am going with life.

I’m debating whether I should eat at an Indian restaurant or eat macaroni at home. I’ll see!

II Kings 23 and 9/11

For my weekly quiet time today, I studied II Kings 23. King Josiah of Judah is inaugurating reforms in response to the Book of the Law that was discovered in the temple. He cleanses Judah and even Northern Israel of paganism, centralizes worship in Jerusalem, and institutes a national celebration of the Passover. He’s righteous, by Deuteronomistic standards. And yet, something tragic happens to him: Josiah is killed by Pharaoh Neco. The prophetess Huldah had predicted that Josiah would die in peace, but Josiah is killed.

I read many claims that Huldah’s prophecy was not contradicted by the manner of Josiah’s death. Some said that Josiah experienced the blessed, peaceful afterlife of the righteous, so he had peace that way. E.W. Bullinger affirmed that Josiah died in a state of inner peace. Many said that Josiah died in peace in the sense that he did not live to see the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 B.C.E., when his son, Zedekiah, was ruling. The fourth century Christian thinker Ambrose, an influence on Augustine, remarked that God took Josiah specifically so he wouldn’t have to experience that event.

I read an interesting article about this topic, Stanley Frost’s “Death of Josiah: A Conspiracy of Silence”, which appeared in a 1968 edition of The Journal of Biblical Literature. Frost’s point is that the death of Josiah was a shocking event. Not only did it contradict the religious view that the righteous were rewarded, whereas the wicked were punished, but it also shattered Judah’s political hopes under Josiah. According to Frost (and many others), Josiah was trying to revive the Davidic kingdom, which was why he was extending his influence into Northern Israel. Now that the Babylonians were beating up on the Assyrians, Judah had a chance to be free from Assyria’s oppressive thumb. But Pharaoh Neco was going up to help his ally, the Assyrians, in an attempt to maintain Assyrian and Egyptian power. Josiah tried to stop him and got killed in Megiddo in the process, and people in Judah were disappointed.

For Frost, II Kings 23 tried to explain this tragedy by saying that Manasseh was wicked, and so Josiah died on account of Manasseh’s sins. (The text actually says that Jerusalem was destroyed for Manasseh’s sins, notwithstanding the righteousness of Josiah.) But Frost doesn’t think this explanation flies with Jeremiah, who foresees a day when people will die for their own sins, not the sins of their ancestors (Jeremiah 31:29-30). Several years later, the Chronicler offers an explanation, in II Chronicles 35: God was trying to tell Josiah through Pharaoh Neco not to fight the king of Egypt, for it wasn’t Josiah’s battle. But Josiah in his pride did not listen.

But even this explanation was inadequate, as far as Frost is concerned, for the Chronicler presents Neco saying the same thing that Sennacherib said to Hezekiah: that God is on the side of a foreign aggressor, and so resistance is futile (II Kings 18:25). Yet, God wasn’t on the side of Assyria, for God slaughtered the Assyrian army when it was encamped to attack Jerusalem. So how would a righteous Israelite king know when to trust a foreign king who claims to have heard from God, and when not to do so? That could be why a later text, I Esdras 1:28, added that Jeremiah told Josiah not to fight Neco: Josiah couldn’t trust a Gentile king’s “God told me”, but the words of Jeremiah carried some weight!

Was the death of Josiah like the 9/11 of ancient Judah (only not as severe as our 9/11), a time when life didn’t make sense? Some have said that Josiah was the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, the righteous king who dies for the sins of Israel. As I said yesterday in my post, Trickling Out (to Other Countries); “Least” Idea?; Post-Exilic Second Isaiah?, P. Kyle McCarter states that a layer of the David and Goliath story emerged in the times of Josiah to encourage Judah that God could give her victory, even though she was the least. Did the death of Josiah make Israel feel weak, maybe even hopeless?

Today, I listened to a debate between atheist Christopher Hitchens and Rabbi David Wolpe. The problem of evil was a big topic in that debate. David Wolpe said that he doesn’t see God as his doctor, but trusts God to be with him in his experience of disease. He also remarked that God doesn’t punish thieves with illness because then people would avoid theft for the wrong reasons—to keep from getting a disease—rather than out of an ethical motivation that stealing is wrong. Hitchen glibly stated that he’s not as concerned about why bad things happen to good people, as he is about why good things so often happen to bad people. I agree with both.

Perhaps Josiah shouldn’t have tried to pick a fight with Neco. Maybe God would have worked things out some other way. You know, one thing that has astounded me this past week has been how conservative Christians I have dismissed as “narrow-minded” actually criticized the Florida pastor who planned to burn the Koran. These Christians have stereotyped all Muslims as evil, as liars, as people who want to take down the United States, and yet they believe that Jesus calls them to love their enemies, and so burning the Koran is inappropriate. One lady remarked that God is working things out, for the proposed “Ground Zero mosque” is about to be moved. (Actually, it turns out that this may not happen!) But here are people who believe that Muslims are dangerous, and yet they feel compelled to love them. I’m not saying that they do so enough. I’m just glad that there is a part of their Christian belief-system that motivates them to love their enemies and to trust God with the outcome.

Light in Judah; Historical Polemic?; Inefficient Employment

I feel like I’m getting a cold, so my points today will be brief.

1. Today is a Sabbath, the Feast of Trumpets, so I did a chapter from my weekly quiet time. I studied II Kings 22, which is about King Josiah of Judah. Josiah decides to repair the temple, but the priest Hilkiah discovers therein a book of the law. Josiah tears his clothes when he hears the words of the law, for he realizes that Judah has not followed it. He sends some of his officials to consult the LORD, and they go to the prophetess Huldah. Huldah says that Judah will be destroyed because of the nation’s worship of other gods, but that Josiah will die in peace.

How were people expected to know the will of God without a Torah? I mean, Josiah stumbled upon it accidentally, and he was surprised to hear the things in it. Did God hold Judah accountable for laws she did not know about?

But it wasn’t as if Judah had no light from God whatsoever. She had a temple to the God of Israel, so she knew who he was. There were prophets. Josiah felt it was possible to consult the LORD through a prophet, but he could also have done so through the priest, who had the Urim and the Thummim. Prophets told King Manasseh years before that what he was doing was wrong. King Hezekiah before him knew enough about the law of God to destroy the high places. And this was after the Torah scroll had been hidden to protect it from Ahaz’s anti-Torah rampage—or so say the rabbis.

At the same time, Manasseh could dismiss the prophets of the LORD, for there were false prophets speaking in the name of the LORD, or prophets for other religions. In short, there were competing claims for revelation, and could the will of God be clear to people in such a situation?

2. In my reading today of In the Beginning, Blocher says (if I’m understanding him correctly) that the author of Genesis 3 is taking a swipe at pagan religions of the ancient Near East, which viewed the serpent as a wise and healing being. At the same time, Blocher goes to great lengths to contend that Genesis 3 actually happened in history, using many of the fundamentalist arguments that several of us have heard (i.e., we need the Fall to be historical for redemption to be real, etc.). But can Blocher have it both ways? If Genesis 3 is a polemic, how can it be historical? Did God know that nations would honor a serpent, and so he created a serpent to be an antagonist to Adam and Eve? Or did the serpent come first, and nations then came to honor him?

3. In my reading today of Economics in One Lesson, Henry Hazlitt criticizes those who try to preserve jobs through inefficiency. Some in his day said that technology got rid of jobs. Union people tried to preserve jobs by making sure that workers stuck with the tasks they were assigned, rather than infringing on the tasks assigned to other people. They also pushed for shorter work-weeks so that there could be more workers.

Hazlitt believes that full employment can contribute to production, but he doesn’t like efforts to stifle production in the name of “full employment”. As far as he’s concerned, efficiency can create jobs. If a machine makes shirts, for example, the owner of a shirt-store may lay off those who sewed the shirts together, since a machine now does their work. But jobs are created to make the machines. The owner can expand his business and hire more workers. And, as more shirts get produced, the price of shirts comes down, and consumers can spend their money on other things, which helps the economy. Jobs are lost due to technology, but jobs are also regained.

But what if the shirts are made in China or Mexico? Does that help the American economy? Tomorrow, I plan to read Hazlitt’s thoughts on free trade.

Terse, Not-So-Spiritual Rants

I’m a little tired right now, probably because I got up late and thus finished my weekly quiet time and my readings later than usual. So my comments will be terse.

1. For my weekly quiet time, I studied II Kings 21, which is about the reign of King Manasseh of Judah. Manasseh instituted pagan worship practices and shed innocent blood. According to traditions, he killed prophets, including Isaiah (whom he sawed in two while Isaiah was in a tree).

Manasseh killing people was wrong. But guess what? In Deuteronomy 18, we see that the group that produced Deuteronomy favored killing prophets whom it didn’t like—just because they didn’t believe in the group’s religious ideology. I’ve talked about this before in my study of I-II Kings: yes, Jezebel killed the prophets of the LORD, but Elijah and Jehu killed the prophets of Baal. Both sides didn’t seem to care for freedom of religion.

But at least the Deuteronomist didn’t believe in passing children through fire!

I usually want my weekly quiet time posts to affirm the text and to draw inspiring, edifying lessons from it. This one doesn’t. I hope I’m not on a downward trend!

2. In Bringing the Hidden to Light, Alan Cooper talks about medieval Jews who disliked the study of philosophy, viewing it as a harlot that leads people away from Judaism.

Why do some Christians treat Christianity as if it’s a fragile vase—oh, you don’t want to study this, because you may have doubts and ditch the faith! Shouldn’t the faith be stronger than that?

3. I’m continuing my way through Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning. In the chapter that I read today, Blocher discusses the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, going through various ideas as to what that was all about. The position at which he arrives is that Adam and Eve, by eating from the tree, were trying to exercise autonomy in moral matters rather than being subservient to God. Such autonomy belongs only to God. (Does this explain why God can order mass genocide, while we’re supposed to view murder as immoral—God’s not subservient to the moral rules that he imposes on others?) But what’s ironic, according to Blocher, is that we think we’re autonomous, when actually we’re subservient to sin.

Personally, I have issues when certain good principles are made into a law, for then I fall short, or feel guilty because I don’t measure up, or feel proud when I do. I’m not talking so much about reasonable rules, such as those against murder or theft. I’m talking about, say, the Christian rule that I should be cheerful and happy, and draw others to Christ through my cheerfulness and happiness. I feel better when I’m not strapped by an iron-clad rule.

II Kings 20

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 20.

King Hezekiah of Judah is sick, and Isaiah the prophet tells him that he’s about to die. Hezekiah then prays to live, appealing to the perfection of his own heart as he speaks to God. Isaiah puts figs on Hezekiah’s boil, and Hezekiah recovers. Isaiah promises in the name of the LORD that Hezekiah will go to the house of God on the third day, and will live for fifteen more years. Hezekiah asks for a sign that this will happen, and God responds by reversing the course of the sun.

(Here, we may see different sources about Hezekiah’s recovery. After all, why would Hezekiah request a sign that he’d be healed, after Isaiah has already healed him with figs? On the other hand, maybe his recovery took a couple of days, and Hezekiah sought a sign during his convalescence that the fig-treatment would work.)

Having heard that Hezekiah was sick, King Merodach-Baladan of Babylon sent a gift to Hezekiah via messengers, and Hezekiah showed them all the treasures of his kingdom. When Isaiah hears about this, he prophesies that the treasures and the sons of Hezekiah will be carried away into Babylon. Hezekiah is happy, however, that the destruction and exile won’t occur while he is alive!

Here are some issues that I encountered in my study:

1. Chronology. Merodach-baladan ruled Babylon in two time periods: in 722-710 B.C.E., and in 704-703 B.C.E., times when Babylon could be independent from Assyria. King Sennacherib of Assyria invaded Jerusalem in 701 B.C.E. What’s the problem? In II Kings 20:6, God promises to deliver Jerusalem from the hand of the King of Assyria, and this prophecy is made when Hezekiah is sick. If this prophecy is made in 701 B.C.E., which is when Sennacherib is invading Jerusalem, then how can King Merodach-baladan send messengers to Hezekiah after Hezekiah is sick? Merodach-baladan’s rule ended a few years before 701 B.C.E.!

The Book of Chronicles compounds the problem, for, in II Chronicles 32, we see (if I’m reading the chapter correctly) the following order of events: God delivers Jerusalem from Sennacherib, people bring gifts to Jerusalem, Hezekiah gets sick and recovers, and Merodach-baladan sends messengers to Hezekiah. Again, we have the problem of King Merodach-Baladan of Babylon sending messengers to Hezekiah a few years after the end of his reign!

I wonder, though, how scholars arrive at these dates, and if the Bible should be an item of evidence as to when certain events occurred—not the only item of evidence, mind you, but one piece of evidence among others. If the Bible’s dating is contradicted by so many sources, then maybe the biblical account is getting its facts mixed up. But I still wonder how scholars arrive at the dates that they do.

Or perhaps the Assyrian threat loomed large over Judah and Jerusalem before 701 B.C.E. That wouldn’t solve II Chronicles 32′s chronological problems, but it would iron out the difficulty in II Kings 20: when Hezekiah was sick, God promised that Jerusalem wouldn’t have to worry about the Assyrians anymore. Sure, in this scenario, the Assyrians hadn’t yet invaded during Hezekiah’s illness, but they were still a looming threat.

2. Was Hezekiah about to die childless? E.W. Bullinger says “yes”, affirming that all the talk about the blessing of children in Psalms 127-128 and 132 was Hezekiah hoping he could live so he could produce offspring. II Kings 20:8 refers to sons who will go out from Hezekiah, which may imply that Hezekiah hasn’t had kids yet. And II Kings 21:1 says that Hezekiah’s son, Manasseh, began to reign at age twelve. That means that Manasseh was born three years after Hezekiah’s illness, for God gave Hezekiah fifteen more years of life after Hezekiah was sick.

What’s odd is this: God promised David in II Samuel 7 that a Davidid would always rule over Israel. Was God about to bring the Davidic line to an end by allowing Hezekiah to die—since Isaiah told Hezekiah in God’s name that he would die, and not live, before Hezekiah prayed and received a lease on life? Maybe God wanted Hezekiah to pray to God and to appeal to God’s promise to David in order to live.

3. Hezekiah appears to be proud when he asks God in II Kings 20:8 to heal him on account of his (Hezekiah’s) perfection of heart. But Hezekiah still acknowledges that he is a sinner, for, in Isaiah 38:17, Hezekiah says that God has cast his (Hezekiah’s) sins behind God’s back. Perfection in the Old Testament may not have meant sinlessness, but rather seeking to obey God.

4. After hearing about the future exile and devastation of Judah and Jerusalem at the hands of Babylon, Hezekiah rejoices that at least he won’t experience all that! Many preachers and commentators castigate Hezekiah for being selfish, and they may be right. But John Gray offers an alternative view, comparing Hezekiah to Arabs who praise the name of Allah even when they hear bad news, and who try to end things on an auspicious note. Was Hezekiah selfish, or was he trying to look on the bright side?

II Kings 19

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 19. King Sennacherib of Assyria is seeking to conquer Jerusalem, and Hezekiah prays to the LORD. In answer to Hezekiah’s prayer, God (through an angel) kills off the Assyrian army. Later, Sennacherib is assassinated by two of his sons, who flee to Ararat. Esarhaddon then succeeds Sennacherib as king of Assyria.

There are many historical issues in this chapter. V 9 is challenging, for it states that Tirhakah, the king of Cush, has attacked Sennacherib, leading the Assyrian king away from Jerusalem. (Sennacherib leaves many troops in the proximity of Jerusalem, however). The problem is that Tirkahah wasn’t king until 690 B.C.E., which is after the events of II Kings 19. Virtually all modern commentators, conservative and liberal, acknowledge this as a problem. Liberals tend to view v 9 as an example of anachronism. Conservatives have contended that v 9 calls Tirhakah a king because that’s what he later became, and the audience of II Kings 19 knew him as such.

Sennacherib’s account does not mention that Sennacherib actually took Jerusalem, which may be evidence that he did not do so, as the Bible says. Then there’s the interesting story in the History of Herodotus (Book II, 141), the fifth century B.C.E. Greek historian, who narrates that, when Sennacherib was trying to attack Egypt, mice came and ate up the military equipment of his army. According to Herodotus, that’s why there’s a statue of a king in the Temple of Hephaistos, holding up a mouse and urging people to fear the gods! In Greek legends, mice carried pestilence. Is Herodotus confirming the story of the Bible? Mordecai Cogan thinks not. For Cogan, Herodotus is botching things up by attributing to Sennacherib’s time an incident that occurred under his successor, Esarhaddon, as well as drawing from a mixed-up version of the biblical story.

Who killed Sennacherib? Cogan refers to evidence that the assassination was committed by Sennacherib’s son, Arad-ninlil. Could the names of the assassins in the biblical account be botched up? Moreover, according to Assyrian sources, there were brothers of Esarhaddon who challenged his accession, and Esarhaddon tries to get his hands on Assyrian refugees who fled to Ararat. Does this confirm the biblical story that two brothers of Esarhaddon attempted to take the throne and fled to Ararat?

Those are some of the historical issues. But what got my attention was how preachers said that II Kings 19 teaches us to look to God, not to therapists. Chuck Smith, for example, says that he feels helpless when people tell him about their problems, for he can’t do anything about them. God, however, can. There are many times when such is the case. But therapists can give us insights as to how to cope or deal with our problems. And yet, we may need divine intervention! As a person with bills, I identified with a sermon I heard, in which a preacher talked about spreading our bills out before God, as Hezekiah spread before God the taunting letter of Assyria. Personally, I need encouragement and advice so I can see productive ways that I can handle situations; but I also need God to help me out. Where my role ends, and God’s begins, can be pretty murky. But I feel that I have a role, and so does God.

Chuck Smith made another interesting point. In Isaiah 33:14, the sinners of Zion wonder how they can dwell in the midst of everlasting flames. According to Smith, they are saying this after God’s angel has slaughtered the Assyrian army. His reason for this interpretation may be that Isaiah 33 refers to God’s defeat of nations and salvation of Zion, which fits the story of God’s deliverance of Jerusalem from the hands of Sennacherib. Seeing God’s wrath on others scares the sinners of Zion. But the prophet tells them that they can survive the everlasting flames if they do righteousness and hate oppression, bribery, and bloodshed. I’m not big on fear religion, but I can see its place, especially since there are people in the world who like to hurt others.

II Kings 18

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 18. In this chapter, King Hezekiah of Judah inaugurates religious reforms that the Deuteronomist applauds, and so God prospers Hezekiah, who rebels against the Assyrians and smites the Philistines (thereby depriving the Assyrians of their trade-routes with Egypt, and perhaps also paying the Philistines back for their aggression against Judah during the reign of Hezekiah’s father, Ahaz; see II Chronicles 28:18).

Sennacherib, the King of Assyria, then captures several Judahite cities, and so Hezekiah apologizes for his rebellion and tries to appease Sennacherib by offering tribute. Sennacherib accepts the tribute, but he continues his hostilities: his design is to take the city of Jerusalem.

Sennacherib sends the Rabshakah and two other lackies (along with a great host) to intimidate Jerusalem. The Rabshakeh attempts to discourage the inhabitants of Jerusalem from trusting in God for deliverance.

There are three things that this story brings to my mind:

1. II Kings 18 differs from II Chronicles 32, which contrasts with Isaiah. In II Kings 18, Hezekiah is scared. He tries to appease the Assyrians to make them go away. When he hears about the Rabshakeh’s taunts, he goes before God in desperate prayer. In II Chronicles 32, however, he appears to be calmer and more collected. He takes practical steps to defend Jerusalem, and he encourages the men of the city that God is with them. And yet, Isaiah criticizes Hezekiah’s practical measures, as if they’re indicative of his lack of faith in God (Isaiah 22).

I’m not sure if the facts of these stories are contradictory, though there are scholars who will say that such is the case. Maybe Hezekiah became calmer and more collected after he prayed to God and received assurance. And yet, there was still a deep fear inside of him, which was why he took practical measures to defend the city. But do II Chronicles 32 and Isaiah 22 contradict each other? Although II Chronicles 32 appears to be positive in its portrayal of Hezekiah, it’s interesting that Hezekiah in the Chronicler’s telling didn’t actually get to use the army that he was amassing against Sennacherib, for God took care of the problem himself: God sent an angel to slaughter Sennacherib’s army. Were Hezekiah’s practical defensive measures all for naught?

Personally-speaking, I wonder when I should act, and when I should let God take care of my problems. The wisdom literature of the Bible (e.g., Proverbs) calls for practical actions that can produce good results. But can we get to the point where we idolize our plans, as if they’re what’s taking care of us (Deuteronomy 8:10-18; James 4:13ff)?

2. The Deuteronomist’s message is that righteous-living results in divine reward. But it doesn’t always turn out that way, even in his narrative. In II Kings 18, for example, Hezekiah obeys God, and so God grants him military success. And yet, that military success precedes an onslaught by the Assyrians, which undoes Hezekiah’s gains. According to the Intervarsity Press Bible Background Commentary, an evangelical source, Sennacherib “was able to establish pro-Assyrian governors in Philistia.” And so Hezekiah succeeds, only to fail.

Can we look at our lives and dogmatically say what God is doing? I won’t rule out the possibility. But, when I look at II Kings 18, it seems to me that the Deuteronomist is trying to fit the messiness of real life into his neat paradigm of divine reward and punishment. For the Deuteronomist, the righteous prosper because they’re rewarded by God. In real life, that doesn’t always happen. And real life manages to shine through the Deuteronomist’s narrative!

And yet, who won in the end? Assyria made some gains, but it failed to take Jerusalem, the capital of Judah. And Judah outlasted the Assyrians, who were conquered by the Babylonians. Is military success the primary sign of God’s presence with a people? Maybe God used that success to prolong Judah’s survival and strike some blows at Assyria. God had larger goals in mind than Judah’s military success. He wanted her to survive so she could bring glory to him. She could survive as a strong power, but her survival as a weak power would ensure her continued dependance on God.

I’m reminded of something I saw in the movie Dead Poets’ Society this week. Robin Williams plays Mr. Keating, a charismatic teacher at an elite school for boys. Mr. Keating teaches poetry, and he tells his class that some of them may wonder why they need to study that particular subject, when they plan to go into business. Mr. Keating says that business will help them survive, but poetry will give them a reason for their survival. After all, if you make a bunch of money and achieve a comfortable existence, what do you do then? For Mr. Keating, one thing you can do is find inspiration and wisdom in the great poets.

Similarly, Judah with God’s help survived, but what was the reason for her survival? To enjoy God, to bring glory to him, and to be his instrument. Kingdoms would rise and fall—including the Kingdom of Judah. But her existence and her mission would still remain.

3. In the sermons I heard about II Kings 18, preachers talked about the tendency of non-believers to get Christianity wrong. Nero, for example, said that Christians were cannibals, for he misunderstood the Eucharist. Jon Courson talked about a book that said the Bible is wrong to say that Eve ate an apple, for apples don’t grow in the alleged location of Eden. But, as Jon pointed out, the Bible doesn’t say that the fruit Eve ate was an apple.

In II Kings 18, the Rabshakeh gets something wrong. He says that God won’t protect the Israelites because Hezekiah has removed God’s high places. The Rabshakeh assumes that God was pleased with those high places, as if they existed for God’s glory! But the irony is that God actually wanted those high places to be destroyed.

And yet, the Rabshakeh may get something right. V 34 is puzzling because, in it, the Rabshakeh lists the names of Syrian cities that Assyria has conquered, and asks if their gods delivered Northern Israel. But why would the gods of Syria deliver Northern Israel? They weren’t the gods of Northern Israel! The proposal of the Jewish commentator Rashi is that the Northern Israelites worshipped Syrian gods. The Rabshakeh knew something about Northern Israel’s idolatry.

Anne Rice said something on Frontline recently that intrigued me. She was showing her interviewer her collection of religious works—the Bible, the Talmud, etc. The interviewer said, “So when you talk about religion, you must know what you’re talking about.” Anne Rice replied, “I know what I’m talking about. I’m sure there are people who’d say I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I found that to be a humble statement. She can only speak for herself. Whether she’s right about what others are saying, however, is uncertain—as is the case with many of us.

Could she have organized Christianity wrong? I have a hard time saying that she does. She is observing fruits in Christianity that she deems intolerant, and she does not want to be a part of that. There has to come some point where we say that something is wrong because it hurts others, right? Hitler may have had personal reasons for doing what he did, and he probably thought he was doing the right thing; but he was wrong.

So, in my opinion, there’s a place for listening to people’s stories to understand where they’re coming from. But there’s also a place for us to look at the effects of certain things, and to determine for ourselves if we deem them to be helpful or hurtful.

Then there’s the possibility that the people of a community aren’t living up to their standards (or at least their standards of benevolence to others) and may have corrupted a good thing. We see that in this chapter, as Hezekiah destroys the Nehushtan, which Moses erected in Numbers 21 to be a source of healing for Israelites; essentially, Israelites since that time worshipped the Nehushtan to get healing, and that displeased God. And we see that sort of thing in organized religion today.

Musings on II Kings 17

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 17, which is about the fall of Northern Israel to the Assyrians. The fall occurred under King Hoshea of Northern Israel.

In the late eighth century B.C.E., Hoshea stopped paying tribute to Shalmaneser, the King of Assyria, and sought to form an alliance with Egypt, which naturally upset Shalmanesar. Consequently, Assyria decimated Northern Israel, exiled Northern Israelites to Mesopotamia and beyond, and replaced Northern Israelites in Palestine with foreigners. The foreigners brought gods of their own nations with them, but Assyria encouraged them to worship the God of Israel as well. Some have suggested that the Assyrians were trying to prevent these foreigners (and the remaining Israelites in Palestine) from developing nationalistic sentiments. What better way was there for the Assyrians to do this than to confuse their religions through syncretism, detaching them from a full commitment to their national customs?

II Kings 17 looks beyond geo-political explanations for the fall of Israel and the foreigners’ embrace of Yahwism, however. It attributes the fall of Northern Israel to her idolatry—her religious practices that the God of Israel had forbidden. And it holds that the foreigners embraced a form of Yahwism because God was punishing them with lions, prompting them to inquire how the God of the land wanted to be worshipped. Even when God’s people are falling and going into exile, God is bringing attention to his own power and glory—before idolatrous foreigners and the conquering Assyrians!

V 2 makes the puzzling statement that Hoshea the king of Israel was not as bad as the Israelite kings who came before him. And yet, it was during his reign that God chose to bring Northern Israel down. Josephus seems to ignore II Kings 17:2, asserting that Hoshea was a wicked man who despised the worship of God (Antiquities 9:238). The eleventh century Jewish commentator Rashi, drawing from rabbinic traditions, states that Hoshea was allowing Northern Israelites to worship in Jerusalem, a practice that had been forbidden since the days of King Jeroboam. Moreover, according to Rashi, Jeroboam’s golden calves were gone by the time of Hoshea, for one had been taken by the Syrians when they invaded and plundered Dan (I Kings 15:20), and the other had been removed by the Assyrians, in fulfillment of the prophecy in Hosea 10:6.

Under Hoshea, the Northern Israelites could go to Jerusalem to worship, and they didn’t have the golden calves to cause them to stumble. But did they do the right thing? By and large, no. If II Chronicles 30:5-11 is about the time before the fall of Northern Israel (depending on how one interprets v 6), then most Northern Israelites under Hoshea laughed at the invitation by King Hezekiah of Judah to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem (though a few Northern Israelites did go). According to Rashi, the Northern Israelites could no longer blame their king for their wickedness, for King Hoshea was not as bad as his predecessors. Hoshea gave them the chance to do the right thing, and they did not take it. Jeroboam may have influenced them to sin when he set Northern Israel on the path of apostasy, but they embraced the sin (II Kings 17:21-22). Under Hoshea, they only had themselves to blame.

To be honest, I wish that I could identify more with the Deuteronomist whose hand is so heavy in II Kings. Northern Israel fell because of her incorrect worship. Personally, as an American who likes religious pluralism, and as a person who seeks spirituality yet is uncomfortable with rigid conservative Christianity, I don’t feel all that cozy inside about Northern Israel falling because she worshipped other gods, or failed to worship the LORD in a certain location.

At the same time, I can understand that Israel had a covenant with God, and so she was breaking a solemn promise through her apostasy. (What’s interesting, however, is that II Kings 17:34ff. appears to hold the foreigners in Palestine to the same standard to which God held Israel, for why else would the passage care about the Samaritans’ worship practices? And yet, God shows more latitude to the foreigners, for he ceases his wrath against them once they are instructed by a Northern Israelite priest—a representative of the very cult that the Deuteronomist condemns. Plus, God doesn’t punish the foreigners for their syncretism.) Also, God was upholding a certain humanitarianism when he condemned the Israelites for passing their children through fire, which can be construed as human sacrifice.

Meanderings on II Kings 16

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied I Kings 16. It’s about the reign of King Ahaz of Judah.

According to v 2, Ahaz was twenty years old when he began to reign, and he ruled sixteen years in Jerusalem. At face value, that means that Ahaz’s reign ended when he was 36. II Kings 18:2 says that Ahaz’s son and successor, Hezekiah, was twenty-five years old when he began to reign. So how old was Ahaz when Hezekiah was born? At the latest, he was 11.

One explanation for this is that there are times when people in the East get married at a very young age. Although Keil-Delitzsch ultimately do not go with this explanation, they give examples of spouses in the age-ten range—in India, Abyssinia, and Tiberias. Another explanation is that we should take into account co-regency: that Ahaz ruled as a co-regent with his father, Jotham. I guess what that is getting at is that Ahaz technically ruled longer than sixteen years (which only refers to the time that he ruled all by himself), so he wasn’t 11 when Hezekiah was born. A third explanation is text-critical. Keil-Delitzsch point out that the Septuagint, the Syriac, and the Arabic of II Chronicles 28:1 say that Ahaz was twenty-five years old when he began to reign, meaning that Ahaz was in his late teens at Hezekiah’s birth.

An interesting point: II Kings 16:3 says that Ahaz made his son pass through the fire. Many interpreters have viewed this as the sacrifice of his first-born son (see II Kings 3:27; Micah 6:7). So Ahaz had a son before Hezeziah? How old was Ahaz when his wife had him?

The chapter is about an alliance between Northern Israel and Syria to bring down Judah, presumably to force her into an anti-Assyrian confederation. And Syria gets some licks in, for she conquers Elath, in the South, which Judah had recently taken back for herself (II Kings 14:22). But the Syrian-Ephraimite alliance fails to conquer Jerusalem and depose Ahaz. Still worried, Ahaz buys help from Assyria, using riches from the Jerusalem temple. Assyria responds by conquering Syria. (Northern Israel’s turn is coming soon!) People of Damascus (in Syria) are then exiled to Kir, which (ironically) Amos 9:7 says was the original home of the Syrians—the place from which God had brought them, in a sort of exodus, if you will.

Assyria’s act of nipping the Syrian threat in the bud comes with a price for Judah, however, for II Kings 16:17-18 says that Ahaz got rid of the bronze oxen upholding the “sea” outside the temple (see I Kings 7: At the Library), along with a “covert for the Sabbath” and an entrance to the temple. V 18 states that Ahaz turned from the house of the LORD “for the king of Assyria” (KJV), which may mean that he was using that temple-stuff as tribute for his Assyrian liberator!

II Kings 16 also contains a story about a Syrian-style altar. Ahaz sees a Syrian altar in Damascus when he goes there to meet the king of Assyria, who had just conquered Syria. He likes it so much that he sends plans of it to Urijah, a priest of Judah, so that Urijah can fashion something like it. Urijah does so, and this Syrian-style altar supplants the brass altar as the altar for sacrifices. The brass altar is now to be used for Ahaz’s own personal worship, so he can “enquire” there (KJV of v 15). Many claim that Ahaz wanted to use the brass altar for divination, but, as Mordechai Cogan points out, the word that v 15 uses for enquire, baqar, appears in Psalm 27:4 to refer to the Psalmist’s visit of the temple (cp. Deuteronomy 12:5, where darash, a synomym for baqar in Ezekiel 34:11-12, is used in a similar way: to refer to “seeking” at God’s sanctuary). Ahaz was probably using the brass altar for his own personal worship, not for divination.

There are interesting points to note. First of all, Urijah the priest. Isaiah the prophet considered him to be trustworthy enough to be a witness (Isaiah 8:2). Yet, for some reason, I Chronicles 6:3-15 omits him when it lists the succession of high priests. Josephus has Urijah in his list of high priests in Antiquities 10, yet the names in his list are so different from the list in Chronicles after a certain point, that I wonder if he’s even drawing from Chronicles. Why does I Chronicles omit Urijah? Because Urijah built a Syrian-style altar for Ahaz? What’s funny is that Chronicles doesn’t even mention the Syrian-style altar in its own version of Ahaz’s reign (II Chronicles 28), so the Chronicler couldn’t have been that upset about it (right?).

Second, the brass altar. Rashi (an eleventh century Jewish commentator) says that this couldn’t have been the one built by Moses (see Exodus 38:30) because that one was hidden. Rashi may mean that Solomon replaced it because it wasn’t big enough (I Kings 8:64; II Chronicles 4:1), and so the original brass altar that Moses built is hidden somewhere. (And yet, the brass altar that Solomon built wasn’t big enough either, according to II Chronicles 7:7!) Christian commentators take Ahaz to task because he did not preserve the pattern of the sanctuary that God revealed to Moses (Exodus 25:9, 40), for Ahaz replaced the brass altar with a Syrian-style altar. That may be the perspective of the narrator. And yet, technically-speaking, Solomon didn’t strictly preserve the pattern either, for he replaced the Mosaic altar with a larger one. Was the problem that Ahaz was incorporating foreign elements into Israelite worship? Arguably, Solomon did that, too, when he built the temple (see I Kings 6: At the Library). What made Solomon right and Ahaz wrong?

Third, II Kings 16 differs from II Chronicles 28. In II Chronicles 28, Syria and Northern Israel devastate Judah and take captives, and a prophet instructs Northern Israel to release the captured Judahites. Ahaz appeals to Assyria for help, to no avail, for Assyria torments Judah. And II Chronicles 28 doesn’t mention the Syrian-style altar, but says that Ahaz encouraged the worship of Syrian gods and closed the temple. Josephus and rabbinic literature portrayed Ahaz’s reign as suppressive for Yahwsists, claiming that Ahaz banned worship at the temple. According to certain rabbis, Isaiah had to teach his disciples in secret, for Ahaz had banned Yahwistic instruction!

In terms of their descriptions of Judah’s precarious situation in the realm of geo-politics, II Kings 16 and II Chronicles 28 overlap. Both agree that the Syrio-Ephraimite alliance did not conquer Jerusalem. In terms of their claims about Assyria, maybe they’re describing the same situation in different ways. II Kings 16 says that Assyria heard Ahaz’s plea, accepted his bribe, and destroyed Judah’s enemy, Syria. II Chronicles 28, however, does not believe that Assyria technically helped Judah, for Judah only opened the door for Assyria to afflict her. Was that really a response to Ahaz’s plea—to what Ahaz truly wanted from Assyria?

In their descriptions of Ahaz’s religious life, the accounts differ somewhat, for II Kings 16 portrays Ahaz as someone who engaged in personal piety, and yet did not stay on the straight-and-narrow. II Chronicles 28, however, presents Ahaz as a gross idolater, a portrait that led interpreters to conclude that Ahaz tried to ban Yahwism! Could Ahaz have degenerated, going from a weak Yahwist to an anti-Yahwist? Did his abandonment of the straight-and-narrow in favor of his own aesthetic desires (the beautiful Syrian-style altar) and his trust in Assyria rather than the LORD lead him to hate God? And yet, so many righteous kings of Judah compromised, for they failed to take away the high places. Why didn’t they degenerate into hatred of God? Did Ahaz go a bit too far?

II Kings 15

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 15.

Every commentator that I read today talked about the chronological problems in this chapter. I-II Kings usually discusses the reigns of the kings of Israel in reference to those of the kings of Judah, and vice versa, and it also tells us how long each king ruled. For example, II Kings 15:1-2 says that Azariah began to rule Judah in the twenty-seventh year of the reign of Jeroboam II, king of Israel, and that Azariah reigned for fifty-two years.

The problem is that the years of the kings' reigns do not always add up. I did some of the leg-work in my notes to see what the problems were, basing my calculations on the years that the kings ascended the throne (according to the chapter), as well as the number of years the reigns lasted (again, according to the chapter). In terms of II Kings 15, the problems are largely concentrated in vv 1, 8, and 30.

V 1 says that Azariah began to rule Judah in the twenty-seventh year of Jeroboam II of Northern Israel, but, if such were the case, then there were thirteen years between the end of the reign of Azariah's predecessor, Amaziah, and Azariah's ascent to the throne. Was there no king on the throne of Judah for thirteen years?

V 8 says that Zachariah came to the throne in Northern Israel in the thirty-eighth year of Azariah, king of Judah. But, if that were the case, then there were twenty-four years between the reign of Zachariah's predecessor, Jeroboam II, and the ascent of Zachariah to the throne. Did Northern Israel lack a king for twenty-four years?

V 30 says that King Pekah of Northern Israel died in the twentieth year of Jotham, king of Judah. But v 33 says that Jotham only ruled Judah for sixteen years.

The commentators I read tried to solve the discrepancies by appealing to co-regency. II Kings 15:5 says, for instance, that Jotham ruled Judah while his father, King Azariah, had leprosy. So the reigns of kings in Judah could overlap, and we shouldn't be perplexed if some of the numbers don't add up.

Regarding the years of "missing kings", eighteenth century Calvinist commentator John Gill states that these were times of struggle for the throne, meaning there wasn't a clear claimant to the monarchy right after the king died.

Eleventh century Jewish commentator Rashi offered some interesting solutions. Regarding v 1, Rashi says that it's talking about Azariah's reign from the time that he got leprosy. And so Azariah was on the throne during the preceding thirteen years, but II Kings 15:1 talks about a specific aspect of Azariah's rule: when he was a leper.

On v 30, Rashi says that some of the years of Jotham's successor, Ahaz, are attributed to Jotham, for Ahaz was wicked. God is expressing his dim opinion of Ahaz by ascribing some of his years to a righteous king, Jotham.

What's interesting is that many features of this chapter are confirmed by non-biblical sources, for Assyrian records mention some of the Israelite kings, plus Tiglath-Pilesar is called "Pul", the name that II Kings 15:9 gives to the king of Assyria, who (at the time) was Tiglath-Pilesar III. So conservative apologists can make a case for this chapter's historical accuracy. And yet, the years of the reigns don't add up, which skeptics can point out to mock the inerrancy of Scripture.

V 37 was also interesting. It says while discussing Jotham that, "in those days", the LORD began to send Pekah of Israel and Rezin of Syria against Judah. Why did God want to punish Judah at this time, when she had a righteous king, Jotham? Some argue that the ancient Israelites attributed everything to God, so God was blamed even for bad things that didn't make sense; others claim that Jotham wasn't righteous enough and that's why God punished Judah during his reign---v 35, after all, tells us that Jotham didn't remove the high places! Or maybe God was setting the stage to afflict Jotham's successor, the wicked King Ahaz, whom God knew would be wicked once he ascended the throne.

We see an example of God setting the stage for a future punishment elsewhere in Scripture: in I Kings 11, incidents in the time of David affect a person who will be a thorn in the side of Solomon, when Solomon is going astray (see Struggles with I Kings 11). God prepares for Solomon's punishment (or the possibility thereof) long before Solomon even came to the throne, let alone sinned! And, according to Judges 2:20-21, God in Scripture does allow afflictions (or potential afflictions) in order to keep us humble and on the straight-and-narrow, since we can easily forget God when everything is going well (Deuteronomy 8:12-18). (But that may not fly for some people, whose suffering has gone too far, to the point of breaking them.) Was God trying to remind Judah under Jotham not to get too cocky, but to rely on God?

II Kings 14

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 14.

This chapter is about Israel and Judah restoring the boundaries of the Davidic and Solomonic empire, or at least coming close to doing so.

In v 25, we read about a prophecy from Jonah the son of Amittai, the very prophet who is the subject of the Book of Jonah. Jonah prophesied that King Jeroboam II of Northern Israel would restore the border of Israel from Hamath in Syria, all the way to the Sea of the Arabah, next to Judah, in the South (cp. Joshua 3:16). According to Jonah’s prophecy, Jeroboam II would restore Israel’s northern and southern boundaries, which had been moved by her foreign enemies.

A tradition says that God desired for Israel’s northernmost boundary to be up to the gate of Hamath in Syria (Numbers 34:8), which was the case under King Solomon (I Kings 8:65); in another tradition, however, Israel’s northernmost boundary was to be further north than the gate of Hamath, extending all the way to the Euphrates River (Genesis 15:18), as was true under Solomon (I Kings 4:21, 24). And so there are different traditions about what God wanted Israel’s boundaries to be, and where they were under King Solomon.

II Kings 14 assumes that the northernmost boundary was the gate of Hamath, and yet it also hints that the boundary could have been further than that. V 28 states that Jeroboam II recovered the city of Hamath, which had belonged to Judah. And yet, scholars are quick to say “Not so fast!”, because Israel and Judah never possessed Hamath, so how could Jeroboam II “recover” it? II Samuel 8:9-10 says that the king of Hamath appeased David with gold, silver, and bronze, after David had defeated the Syrian king Hadadezer. For some scholars, this implies that David didn’t take over Hamath, but that he and the king of Hamath reached some sort of agreement. Yet, as we saw, there is a tradition that Solomon dominated the region up to the Euphrates region, which would include Hamath. Maybe David and Solomon had a degree of control over Hamath, while also allowing it to maintain a certain amount of independence. In any case, Jeroboam II is regaining what once belonged to Northern Israel, as he defeats the Syrians, who have afflicted the Israelites for quite a long time.

Judah too is making gains. King Amaziah of Judah defeats Edom in battle and takes Sela from it. And his successor, Azariah, retakes and rebuilds Elath, which is near Ezion-geber (Deuteronomy 2:8). Ezion-geber was a southern port that belonged to Israel under King Solomon (I Kings 9:26). While Northern Israel takes back Israel’s cities from the Syrians in the North, Judah does so from her Southern enemies, such as the Edomites.

According to the author of II Kings 14, the reason that Jeroboam II is winning is that God has taken pity on Israel in her distress, and God has seen that there is nobody else helping his people. Consequently, God has given victory to Jeroboam II.

When I attended a liberal Seventh-Day Adventist church in New York City, I heard one of its teachers claim that Jonah’s nationalistic prophecy was the exact opposite of the prophet Amos’ message of doom against Israel, which also occurred during the reign of Jeroboam II. Similarly, one of the commentaries that I read contrasted Jonah’s prophecy with that of Micaiah in I Kings 22. Whereas Jonah encouraged the king of Israel to take back the cities that the Syrians had stolen, Micaiah foretold that King Ahab’s attempt to do so (in the case of Ramoth-gilead) would result in dismal failure.

Is there a contadiction here? Personally, I’m not a fundamentalist, who resorts to mental gymnastics to make all of the Bible internally consistent. But, in this case, I don’t think that there’s a glaring contradiction. God can give different messages for different contexts. In I Kings 22, when there was peace between Israel and Syria, Ahab was wrong-headed to start a war to retake Ramoth-gilead; war was unnecessary. After Syria had beaten up on Israel, however, that was a good time for God to give Israel relief from her enemy, to paralyze Syria, and (in the process) to take back the cities that the Syrians had taken from her.

Regarding Amos and Jonah, maybe Amos had prophesied after Jeroboam II’s victories, which Jonah had predicted. In Amos 6:13, Amos rebukes Northern Israel for thinking that she took Karnaim by her own strength, without the assistance of God. Jonah’s message was appropriate for Northern Israel when she was experiencing distress and needed God’s deliverance. After she had been delivered and become proud, refusing to repent of her wrong-doing and to acknowledge God, the appropriate message was Amos’ prophecy of judgment.

In Joshua and the Flow of Biblical History, Francis Schaeffer makes the point that God doesn’t act the same way all of the time. In the Book of Joshua, for example, God forbids the Israelites to take plunder from Jericho (to Achan’s detriment), yet he allows them to plunder Ai. For Schaeffer (if I remember his argument correctly), the lesson is that we serve a living God. We don’t just rely on a book, but on a personal being for guidance.

That can be dangerous, for at least relying on a book can give us a degree of stability. If that stability goes out the window, what’s to stop someone from claiming that God has made an exception to his “Thou shalt not murder” rule, and has commanded us to kill men, women, and children? There are Christians who actually defend the Conquest by saying that God can make exceptions to his own rules!

In II Kings 14, at least, we see some measure of reason. It’s wrong for Ahab to start a war with Syria during a time of peace, but it’s all right to do so after Syria has afflicted Israel one-too-many times. It’s all right to trust in God’s deliverance when things are rough, for God is good and loves Israel; but it’s wrong to become proud and vain, to glorify self rather than God. In that case, judgment may come!

Then there’s the story of Amaziah of Judah in II Kings 14. King Amaziah has just defeated Edom, and so he believes that he’s strong enough to challenge Northern Israel to a fight, perhaps to take back Northern Israel for the Davidic line in Judah. But Jehoash, the King of Northern Israel, tells Amaziah that he is way out of his league: that just because Amaziah beat Edom, that doesn’t mean he can beat Northern Israel! But Amaziah fails to heed Jehoash’s warning, and Jehoash thwallops him. There’s a place for expecting the extraordinary, but there’s such a thing as realism in the Bible! Are there absolutes, or are things relative to the situation? And relative to what?

II Kings 13

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 13.

Northern Israel is having trouble with Syria to her north. God has delivered Northern Israel into the hands of Syria, on account of Northern Israel’s continuance in the sins of Jeroboam, who set up two golden calves. But Jehoahaz, the king of Northern Israel, calls on the LORD, who sends someone to save the Israelites from their Syrian oppressors.

There is debate about who this savior is. Some say it’s the Assyrian king Adad-Nirari III, who picked on Syria and thus distracted her from oppressing Northern Israel. Some say it’s Zakur of Hamath, who ruled a Syrian city and may have challenged the authority of the king of Damascus, the top dog in Syria. Some say it’s the prophet Elisha, who enables King Joash of Northern Israel to smite the Syrian army. After all, Joash calls Elisha the chariot of Israel and her horsemen (v 14), probably because Elisha’s prayers and prophetic activity brought the LORD’s blessing upon Northern Israel, delivering her from her enemies. In a sense, Elisha was a savior of Northern Israel! Some say it’s Joash’s successor, Jeroboam II, who hits Syria with a severe blow in II Kings 14. Some say it’s an angel.

But the LORD sent a savior to save Israel, and the Israelites could then dwell in their tents, as they did before. I couldn’t find much of an explanation for why the Israelites dwelt in tents. Josephus in Antiquities 9.8 simply states that God restored Israel to the prosperous state that she had before the Syrians invaded her. But John Gray actually offered explanations for the tents. For Gray, the defeat of Syria placed Israel in a state of security, and so the Israelites could freely go to their farmlands during the spring grazing and the summer activity among the crops and dwell in their light shelters, or tents; they didn’t have to worry about the Syrians attacking them, for the Israelites were secure. Another explanation that Gray offers for the tents is that they were for pilgrimage: after God defeated the Syrians, the Israelites honored God by going on a pilgrimage, which required them to dwell in tents.

And yet, how secure was Northern Israel really? The chapter talks about war between Northern Israel and Judah, as well as Moabite raiders, who flee when they see other raiders. There are times when we are more or less secure, but is life ever without problems?

The chapter contains a story about King Joash of Israel’s visit of the prophet Elisha, when Elisha is sick and about to die. Joash, to his credit, weeps over Elisha, for he appreciates what Elisha has done for Israel. But Elisha wants Joash and Northern Israel to receive a blessing. Elisha tells Joash to shoot arrows out of the window, and Joash does so, as Elisha’s hand touches the hand of the king. Elisha says that the arrows concern the LORD’s deliverance of Israel from the hands of Syria, predicting that Joash will smite the Syrians in Aphek, until he consumes them. Elisha then instructs Joash to smite the ground with the arrows that he just shot, and Joash does so, three times. Elisha is mad at Joash because Joash should have smitten the ground five or six times, not just three. Elisha prophecies that Joash will only smite Israel three times, rather than smiting them until he consumes them.

Commentators have applied this story to a variety of lessons. Ron Dart related the story to Ecclesiastes 9:10, which exhorts us to do our work with all of our might. Joash, by contrast, was half-hearted in smiting the ground, when he should have been enthusiastic about defeating the Syrians.

Some apply this story to the need for Christians to tenaciously pursue and grasp the blessings that God has in store for them.

Keil-Delitzsch quotes Clericus, who states that Joash was afraid that Elisha’s prophecy about Israel’s victory would not be fulfilled were Joash to smite the ground more than three times. And so Joash was walking on egg-shells before God, trying to stay on the safe side. He should have had more faith that God desired his good and the good of Israel.

Matthew Henry states: The king showed not that eagerness and flame which one might have expected upon this occasion, but smote thrice, and no more. Either out of foolish tenderness to the Syrians, he smote as if he were afraid of hurting them, at least of ruining them, willing to show mercy to those that never did, nor ever would, show mercy to him or his people. Or, perhaps, he smote thrice, and very coldly, because he thought it but a silly thing, that it looked idle and childish for a king to beat the floor with his arrows; and thrice was often enough for him to play the fool merely to please the prophet.

There are times when mercy may not be the appropriate action, but justice should be pursued to protect oneself and others (consider I Kings 20); love for an evil person and love for society are factors that should be weighed when one seeks to make a hard decision. And there are times when God may want us to set our ego aside, which could be why Elisha desired for Joash to do something that looked silly, namely, smiting the ground with an arrow! What was the worth of Joash’s ego, compared to the freedom and security of Northern Israel?

Joash had some good characteristics, for he cared enough about Elisha to visit him, and he believed that the LORD was the security of Northern Israel. Yet, Joash should have been more enthusiastic about the LORD’s offer to deliver Israel, for a king (or any leader) should eagerly desire the well-being of the people he serves.

Some words on the next story: there are bands of Moabites invading Israel. As they bury a man, they notice another band, and so they hurry along their burial, throwing the corpse into Elisha’s sepulchre. When the corpse touches the bones of Elisha, it comes back to life. We see an event that may or may not relate to God: Moabites invade, and they come into contact with another band. And yet, God is still on his throne, with his own plans and purposes. God used Elisha, and Elisha can affect the course of events, even when he is dead. There are times when God’s involvement in human affairs is heavy-handed, as when God punishes Israel with Syrian oppression, or frees Israel from it. Then there are times when events just happen—maybe God is causing them, and maybe not. Yet, God is still at work in the world, with his own plans and purposes, whether our designs line up with them or not. And maybe God’s activity in the world can touch us in a positive way, even when we’re not looking for it—as was the case with the Moabite who came back to life after touching Elisha’s bones!

II Kings 12

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 12. Joash has become the king of Judah, and the text states that he did what was right in the eyes of the LORD, as long as the priest Jehoiada was alive instructing him. You’d think that Joash’s righteousness was based on Jehoiada’s tutelage and good example.

But the Bible isn’t always predictable. Right after its assessment of Joash’s reign, the text goes on to discuss Joash’s attempt to repair the temple. II Chronicles 24:7 states that Queen Athaliah had broken up the house of God and used some of its holy objects for the worship of the Baalim. At the very least, the temple had suffered from neglect. And so Joash orders the priests to collect money for the repair of the temple. The money was to come from three sources: (1.) the census tax that Exodus 30:11-16 prescribes for the benefit of the sanctuary; (2.) the silver that the Israelites were to pay for their own redemption, in accordance with the law in Leviticus 27:1-8; and (3.) voluntary donations.

But, for some reason, the priests aren’t doing their job, and Joash is disappointed, as he wonders what is taking them so long. Joash’s righteousness was dependant upon Jehoiada? Then how come Joash is the one who has to light a fire under the behinds of Jehoiada and the other priests?

II Kings 12 and II Chronicles 24 are silent about why the priests were dragging their feet. But people have speculated about what the problem was. One explanation is that the priests couldn’t support the repair of the temple and themselves at the same time, and so, when Joash set up a contribution box outside of the temple, he was doing the priests a favor by absolving them of the responsibility to fund the temple’s repair from their own income. Preacher Chuck Smith’s explanation is that the priests were pocketing the donations, as if they were corrupt. But I doubt that the text is promoting that sort of view, for II Kings 12:15 stresses the honesty of those who had to pay the workers in the repair: they were so honest that Joash didn’t feel he needed to take an account of them.

Some just say that people can drag their feet: that’s what happens in bureaucracies! So maybe there isn’t a profound reason that the priests were taking so long to repair the temple. And then there’s Josephus’ explanation in Antiquities 9:161ff.: the priests didn’t want to collect contributions from the Israelites, for they feared that the Israelites wouldn’t give to them. But they had underestimated the Israelites’ sense of duty, generosity, and zeal for God, for, when Joash had a contribution box set up, the Israelites gave quite a bit!

A lot of times, even godly people can be so pre-occupied with stuff in life, that they can neglect what is truly important: their relationship with God. Haggai criticizes the Israelites returning from exile for this: they came back to the Promised Land and started building their houses and planting their fields, and yet they were neglecting the temple of God.

Also, timidity can hold us back. I can beat myself up with this concept, and I don’t want to do that, but here’s something to note: the priests were timid about asking the Israelites for money, when the Israelites were all too eager to give! It doesn’t hurt to ask. And it’s also good to give others an opportunity to serve God.

II Kings 11

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 11. II Kings 8:26 informs us that Athaliah was the daughter of Omri, who started the Northern Israelite dynasty that included his son, King Ahab. But she was technically the daughter of Ahab, for II Kings 8:18 states that Joram, the king of Judah, was married to Ahab’s daughter, and Joram was the husband of Athaliah. So the word “daughter” can mean grand-daughter, as “son of David” can refer to David’s descendants, not just his immediate offspring. Athaliah was the daugher of King Ahab, and the grand-daughter of Omri. Her marriage to Joram was most likely the result of an attempt to create an alliance between Northern and Southern Israel.

Joram rules Judah for eight years and dies, and he is succeeded by his son, Ahaziah. In II Kings 9-10, Ahaziah and his brothers are killed in Jehu’s massacre, which Jehu conducts as he takes over the throne of Northern Israel. When Athaliah hears that her son, Ahaziah, is dead, she resolves to exterminate the rest of the line of David.

Why did Athaliah attempt this? Was she lashing out against Yahwism—the religion that Jehu championed when he conducted his purge and killed her son—by seeking to elimate the pro-Yahwist line of David? Did she want more power? When Ahaziah ruled, she was the Queen-Mother, which was a powerful position in its own right. But perhaps she wanted to be more than the Queen-Mother: she desired to be the absolute ruler of Judah! Some of her motivations may have been selfish, in that she sought power for herself. But maybe she also wanted to uphold the dignity of the house of Omri, which Jehu had just slaughtered. The house of Omri no longer ruled in Northern Israel, but perhaps it could remain a force in Judah, if Athaliah could hold on to its throne.

But couldn’t the children that Athaliah had with Joram continue the line of Omri? Why did she feel compelled to take an extreme measure, of slaughtering the entire line of David?

What’s ironic is something that Walter Bruegemann points out: that Athaliah actually continued the mission of Jehu, the man who had killed her son. Jehu killed Ahaziah and his brothers, and Athaliah sought to murder the other Davidides. But, whereas Jehu was seeking to eliminate Northern Israel’s pro-Baal orientation through his purge, Athaliah wanted to continue the Baal-cult that she had helped to establish in Judah. So their acts were similar, but their motivations were different.

Then there’s another suggestion that Bruegemann makes: maybe Athaliah was just plain crazy!

In any case, as Athaliah conducts her massacre, there is also an attempt within Judah to preserve the Davidic dynasty, by hiding a child named Joash. Jehoidah the priest is the leader of this conspiracy. Another participant is a woman named Jehosheba, who actually stole Joash and hid him from Athaliah. Jehosheba herself was a daugher of King Joram and a sister of Ahaziah, so she was a part of the royal family.

Was Athaliah her mother? On this, there is disagreement. Mordechai Coogan argues that she was, for the fact that II Kings 11:2 calls her the sister of Ahaziah indicates that she was his full-sister: she wasn’t just the daughter of Joram, but she was also the sister of Ahaziah, meaning that Athaliah (Ahaziah’s mom) was her mother. Coogan cites Genesis 34:25, in which Simeon and Levi refer to Dinah as their sister. Simeon, Levi, and Dinah are all the offspring of Jacob, but Dinah is their sister, one who has the same mother as they do, not just the same father. Similarly, Coogan maintains, II Kings 11:2′s statement that Jehosheba was the daughter of Joram and the sister of Ahaziah means that she had the same father and the same mother as Ahaziah, indicating that Athaliah was her mother.

Others contend, however, that Jehosheba was Ahaziah’s half-sister. One reason is that II Chronicles 22:11 states that Jehosheba was the wife of Jehoida, the priest, and some biblical expositors don’t think that a priest would marry the daughter of an idolatrous woman like Athaliah. Also, Josephus, in Antiquities 9 (141), states that Jehosheba was Ahaziah’s sister by the same father. Josephus may believe that II Kings 11:2 refers to Jehosheba as the daughter of Joram and the sister of Ahaziah to indicate that she and Ahaziah had the same father, but not the same mother. After all, the text says that she was the daughter of Joram; it does not say that she was also the daughter of Athaliah! So one side thinks that II Kings 11:2′s statement that Jehosheba was the daughter of Joram indicates that she was Ahaziah’s half-sister, while the other side holds that its statement that she was the sister of Ahaziah means she was his full-sister. In the former scenario, Athaliah is her mother; in the latter, she is not.

Why did Jehosheba take part in the conspiracy to preserve the Davidic line? Perhaps her compassion towards baby Joash or her devotion to God played a significant role. Maybe her loyalty to her husband, Jehoida, was a factor. Some ascribe to her and Jehoida sinister motives, as if they were part of some palace intrigue to control the throne.

There are soldiers and guards who are with Jehoida, as well as a group called “the people of the land” (v 18), who tear down Athaliah’s temple to Baal. Who are these “people of the land”? As Coogan observes, they later set up Josiah and Josiah’s son, Jehoida, as the kings of Judah, protecting the Davidic line (II Kings 21:23-24; 23:30). Ezekiel lambastes them for exploiting the poor (Ezekiel 22:29). They may have been the elite of Judah. And yet, the term “people of the land” can also refer to humanity in general (as in the Yehawmilik inscription from Byblos), or to everyone in a particular country, both Israelites and non-Israelites (Genesis 23:7; 42:6; Exodus 5:5).

Whether “people of the land” in II Kings 11:18 means an elite, or representative samples of Judah’s population, why would they want to overthrow Athaliah? Maybe they felt that she was a nut, and they were uneasy about being ruled by her. Or they were comfortable with the house of David. Or they decided to be faithful to the LORD, as rarely as such an impulse came upon them. The people of Judah may have held on to some vestiges of Yahwism, even as Athaliah promoted the worship of Baal. Jehoida was still the priest, and II Kings 11:5-9 refers to the Sabbath, indicating that it was still a recognized institution, even when Athaliah was reigning. Athaliah may have sought to incorporate Baalism into Judah, but she couldn’t eliminate the worship of the God of Israel.

These people may have had a variety of motivations behind their conspiracy—religious, humanitarian, political, and personal. But they tried to honor God along the way. Jehoida said that Athaliah was not to be slaughtered in the Temple of God, presumably because he wanted to guard the sanctity and dignity of God’s house. Jehoida didn’t make the mistake of Solomon, who disrespected God’s sanctuary when he ordered Joab to be murdered while Joab was clinging to the altar (I Kings 2; see I Kings 2: Mentoring the Wise, A Fresh Start, God’s Plan B). Such a callous disregard for God for the sake of getting rid of his political opponent may have set the stage for the bad decisions that Solomon made later in his life: dishonoring God by marrying foreign women and upholding the worship of their gods.

Jehoida was not like Jehu, who eliminated Baalism, only to dishonor God by upholding Jeroboam’s sanctuaries (although, if Jehu saw those as sanctuaries of God, then maybe Jehoida and Jehu had similar motivations—to eliminate Baalism and to uphold the worship of the God of Israel). Jehoida wanted his revolution to result in the honor of God, and not to be the replacement of one despot with another power-hungry monarch.

We can get power, but what do we do with it?