Original Meaning
King Ahaziah (22:1–9)
THE CHRONICLER HURRIES to tell the story of Jehoram’s son Ahaziah. His version abridges the fifty-six verses of 2 Kings 8:25–10:14 in just nine verses. The broad relationship of the two accounts may be represented as follows:
2 Chron. 22:1–6 = 2 Kings 8:25–29
2 Chron. 22:7 = 2 Kings 9:21
2 Chron. 22:8 = 2 Kings 10:13–14
2 Chron. 22:9 = 2 Kings 9:28
Ahaziah’s reign is treated almost like an extension of Jehoram’s rule. The subject of the section is not so much the reigns of Jehoram, Ahaziah, and Athaliah but the “house of Ahab” and the threat it poses to the “house of Judah” and the Davidic dynasty (21:6; 22:3, 7, 10).
The parallel accounts are not without variations. For example, the Chronicler’s historical interests primarily lie with the kingdom of Judah. Thus, the writer assumes some knowledge of the coup of Jehu in Israel as found in 2 Kings 9. The subtle addition of “he too” (2 Chron. 22:3) links the reigns of Kings Jehoram and Ahaziah, whom the Chronicler regards as an evil duo. The insertion that Ahaziah takes counsel from the “house of Ahab” (22:4) again signals the Chronicler’s concern over the impact political alliances have on the history of the two monarchies.
The parallel accounts are not without problems. According to Dillard, the divergences between the two reports concerning the death of Ahaziah is one of the most difficult historical questions in the Old Testament.10 The three essential differences usually cited by biblical commentators are the timing of the slaughter of the princes of Judah (whether before or after the death of Ahaziah, 22:8; cf. 2 Kings 10:12–14), the place of Ahaziah’s death (2 Chron. 22:9; cf. 2 Kings 9:27), and the place of Ahaziah’s burial (2 Chron. 22:9; cf. 2 Kings 9:28). Harmonizing the reports of Chronicles in detail with the synoptic parallels in Kings lies outside the scope of this commentary. It should be noted, however, in reference to the execution of the princes of Judah that the outline showing the relationship between the accounts of Kings and Chronicles clearly indicates the interests of the Chronicler are theological, not chronological. Likewise, note that Chronicles does not specify the place of Ahaziah’s death or burial (2 Chron. 22:9). The argument from silence does not necessarily imply a conflict of fact in the two sources.
The account of King Ahaziah’s reign consists of three brief reports: the regnal résumé and theological review (22:1–4), the alliance with Joram of Israel (22:5–6a), and the death report (22:6b–9). The one-year reign of Ahaziah is dated anywhere from 845–841 B.C., depending on the source. His brief tenure in the royal office is best placed in 842 or 841 B.C.
The Chronicler’s résumé for Ahaziah (22:1–4) includes the succession and accession age formulas found in 2 Kings 8:25–27 but omits the corresponding date formula to the reign of the king of Israel. The expression “the people of Jerusalem” (2 Chron. 22:1) is difficult to interpret. The phrase may be a reference to the “people of the land,” religious and political power brokers who installed kings during times of dynastic crisis. It is even possible that this expression should be understood exclusively as a group distinct from the populace of the rest of Judah. This prompts Dillard to suggest that perhaps the installation of Ahaziah as king of Judah takes place without consultation or participation by the people of the outlying districts.11
The raiders in league with the Arabs who are responsible for slaying the older princes of Judah are probably Philistines (22:1; cf. 21:16–17). Ahaziah is thus the sole surviving heir of Jehoram and the Davidic line (21:17). This motif both begins and ends the literary unit, as Joash emerges as the sole survivor of Athaliah’s murderous coup against the family of her own son (22:11). The reference to the killing of Ahaziah’s older sons by marauders is another example of the theme of immediate divine retribution against a wicked king of Judah.
The name of Ahaziah’s mother, Athaliah, is included in the regnal résumé for two reasons (22:2). (1) Her relationship to the dynasty of Omri as daughter of Ahab and Jezebel explains the influence of the “house of Ahab” on the kingdom of Judah. The author accents the negative theological review of the king’s brief reign by associating him with his father in following the ways of “the house of Ahab” (22:3). (2) As a member of Ahab’s family, Athaliah takes it upon herself to destroy the royal family of Judah (22:10). By virtue of her role as queen mother, she holds the important position of royal adviser, thus poisoning the counsel received by both her husband Jehoram and her son Ahaziah (cf. 1 Kings 15:13; 2 Kings 24:15).12 The status and authority she enjoys as queen mother also enables her to fill the power vacuum left by the death of her son and to usurp the throne of David (cf. 2 Chron. 22:9).13
The Chronicler offers one example of such lethal counsel in the decision of Ahaziah to join forces with King Joram of the rival Israelite kingdom against a common enemy, Hazael king of Aram (22:5–6a). Such an alliance with the apostate state of Israel is doomed to failure, as the unfolding story demonstrates. Ramoth Gilead was a Levitical city of refuge in the eastern or Transjordan territory of the tribe of Gad (Deut. 4:43; Josh. 21:38). The city commanded a strategic location along the King’s Highway. This made the site a frequent battleground for the armies of Israel and Aram as each nation sought to control the commerce along the trade route. Joram’s father, Ahab, was killed in battle at Ramoth Gilead attempting to wrest by force what Ben-Hadad of Aram had ceded to Israel in a treaty after his defeat at Aphek (1 Kings 20:34).
We learn from the narrative that King Joram is wounded in battle at Ramoth Gilead by the Arameans (22:6a). Hoping to speed the healing of his injuries, Joram retreats to the safety of Jezreel (cf. 2 Kings 9:14–15). Jezreel was a town allotted to the tribe of Issachar and lay at the foot of Mount Gilboa on the plain of Jezreel (Josh. 19:18). Later, the summer palace of the Israelite kings was located there (1 Kings 18:45–46; 21:1). Jehu’s purge of the house of Ahab was completed at Jezreel (2 Kings 10:6–11). It is there that Ahaziah visits his recuperating ally, only to meet his end (2 Chron. 22:6b). One cannot help but recall the long shadow Mount Gilboa casts on Israelite kingship, dating back to the death of King Saul (cf. 1 Chron. 10:1, 8).
The Chroniclers’ theological commentary bluntly states that God “brought about Ahaziah’s downfall” (22:7). Wilcock notes three reasons for Ahaziah’s downfall: foreign influence in the form of false religion, family inheritance (with respect to the alliance by marriage of Judah and Israel), and personal responsibility (because neither true spirituality nor impiety is hereditary).14 Jehu son of Nimshi becomes God’s agent of justice in punishing the evil of both Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah (22:7–8; cf. 2 Kings 9:24–29). While 2 Kings 9 relates the parallel destruction of “two houses” (Judah and Israel), the focus of Chronicles is exclusively on the “house of Judah.” The message of the passage is alarmingly clear: God repays evil for evil almost immediately on those who fail to emulate David’s example of righteous rule.
Although the sins of the house of Ahab perpetuated by King Ahaziah are unnamed in Chronicles, it seems they include idolatry, witchcraft, and a failure to trust in God as the Sovereign of Judah, as evidenced by “unholy” political alliances (cf. 2 Kings 9:22).15 The Chronicler’s emphasis on the divine judgment of the kings of Judah for trusting in diplomacy instead of God may serve as a subtle affirmation of the exclusivist and isolationist policies promoted during the reforms of Ezra and Nehemiah (cf. Ezra 9:1–2; Neh. 9).
Unlike King Joram, whose corpse is left exposed on the field of Naboth (2 Kings 9:26), Ahaziah is given a proper burial in the royal tomb complex of King David. This is due to a lingering respect for his grandfather Jehoshaphat (22:9b; cf. 2 Kings 9:28). The death of Ahaziah returns us to the theme of this section of the narrative: the conflict between God’s promise to David of a dynasty forever and the apparent lack of an heir to the throne. The house of David has been purged of sin, but the end result seems worse than the combined reigns of Jehoram and Ahaziah. The “lamp” of David (2 Chron. 21:7) is in jeopardy of being extinguished by powerful Athaliah (22:9c). Dillard aptly notes that this lesson is not lost on the Chronicler’s audience. Even as Davidic hopes were not doused by Ahaziah’s sin or Athaliah’s reign of terror, so too the Davidic hope remains alive in the postexilic period despite all appearances to the contrary.16
The Interregnum of Athaliah (22:10–23:21)
Bridging Contexts
THE ONE AND THE MANY. One of the fascinating aspects of the cultural context of the biblical world is the relationship of the “one” (i.e., a person) to the “many” (i.e., the clan, tribe, or nation). In sociological terms we are referring to the interface of the individual with the group. Biblical scholars have described the predominance of the “many” or national identity in the worldview of the ancients as “corporate personality” or “group solidarity.”24
The basic concept of corporate personality means that the whole group may function as a single individual or, alternately, a single individual may represent the group. Characteristically in a group-centric society, the individual submits personal rights to the collective good of the group, seeks to conform to group norms, and promotes the interdependence of the group.25 Typically, group membership among the societies of the ancient world included both dead ancestors and the unborn. In one sense, then, “the group could be conceived as living forever” since its corporate identity extended beyond the present to the both the past and the future.26
This dynamic relationship of the “one” to the “many” in group solidarity is readily seen in the story of Achan’s sin following the battle of Jericho and its impact on the nation of Israel and his family (Josh. 7). Achan’s sins of covetousness, theft, and false testimony for failing to confess his transgression when given ample opportunity compromised the holiness of the whole nation as God’s covenant community (7:11). Not only was Achan put to death for his own sin, but also his family was stoned for presumed complicity in their father’s crime (7:25; cf. Ex. 20:5; Deut. 24:16). Furthermore, Achan’s violation of Yahweh’s taboo on the plunder of Jericho had ramifications for the entire nation insofar as the rout of the Hebrews in the first battle at Ai occurred because “Israel” had sinned (Josh. 7:5, 11).
The idea of group solidarity, however, does pose certain theological problems heard especially in the complaints and laments of the righteous concerning God’s justice. The destruction and exile of both the divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah forecast by the prophets of God meant that the so-called “righteous remnant” suffered the same fate as those who had abandoned Yahweh’s covenant (cf. Hab. 1:13). Thus, in the aftermath of the horrors of the Babylonian exile, the Jews raised the “sour grapes” parable in protest of the principle that one generation should bear the punishment for the sin of another (Jer. 31:29; Ezek. 18:2). In response, both Jeremiah and Ezekiel predicted a redefinition of the relationship of the “one” to the “many” in the new covenant, which would bring an even greater degree of individual responsibility and personal accountability before God (Jer. 31:30; Ezek. 18:4, 30). As late as Malachi’s preaching, the Israelites raised the lingering question of the merit of covenant obedience to Yahweh when it appeared that God punished the righteous for the deeds of the wicked (Mal. 3:14–15).
Even into the New Testament period, Jesus is questioned as to the cause of divine judgment in an individual’s life, whether it should be attributed to that person’s sin or the parents’ sin (John 9:2). Jesus’ response is interesting because it asserts that the principle of divine retribution cannot be applied wholesale to individual misfortune (cf. Luke 13:4–5). Paul too recognized that vestiges of corporate personality remain in the new covenant since the sin of an individual put the entire church or community of faith at risk of divine judgment (1 Cor. 5:6).
We have already observed that the theme of “all Israel” is foundational to the Chronicler’s retelling of Hebrew history (see “Audience” in the introduction). The widespread use of this phrase in Chronicles suggests the writer has in mind the citizenry of the entire nation, including the political leadership, the religious leadership, and the general populace. The intentional reference to “all Israel” in the context of the divided monarchies indicates that the writer is attempting to heal wounds of schism among the tribes as a result of the rift caused by the competing kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Moreover, the emphasis on the dual theological themes of the Davidic covenant and temple worship in Chronicles serves to remind the postexilic community that their unity is assured by divine promise and exhibited in their common worship of Yahweh, the God of the covenant. Finally, the Chronicler’s representation of the nation by appealing to an outstanding personality like Abraham or David illustrates that the nation of Israel as a group includes its past, present, and future members.
Yet as important as the corporate identity of “all Israel” is for the Chronicler, he does not overlook the strategic role of the “one” in relationship to the “many.” He betrays his interest in the individual almost immediately in the anecdotal stories and heroic acts inserted within the tribal genealogies. In point of fact, the “two ways” by which the writer characterizes the Israelite kings are identified with individuals: the way of David and the way of Ahab. Even this section of Chronicles is less about the Judean monarchy and more about two contrasting individuals: “one” Athaliah acting for the “many” for evil purposes, and “one” Jehoiada acting for the “many” for good purposes.
As a perceptive historian the Chronicler is careful to recognize and document the strategic role of certain individuals in the ebb and flow of Israel’s history. As a clever writer he helps us appreciate the vital sociological relationship between the “one” and the “many” in his retelling the story of Davidic kingship. As an insightful theologian, he anticipates the New Testament theology of the “one” acting for the “many” in Paul’s teaching of human sin and divine redemption rooted in Adam and in Jesus Christ as the “second Adam” (Rom. 5:12–17).
Contemporary Significance
Contemporary Significance
INDIVIDUAL AND COMMUNITY. The current cultural transition from a somewhat monolithic modernist worldview to eclectic postmodernist worldviews has witnessed paradigm transformations in several sociological and anthropological categories.27 One of these philosophical shifts has occurred along the “fault line” of the “one” and the “many” in contemporary sociology. There appears to a growing trend toward the rejection of the “individualism” of modernism and the acceptance of the notion of “community” embraced by postmodernism.28 Individualism or the autonomy of self is a by-product of Enlightenment rationalism and may be defined as the conception that all values, rights, and duties originate in the individual—that is, an idolatry of self and self-interest.
The ideological countercurrent of postmodernism places a renewed emphasis on group identity and communal relationships. This has been stirred, in part, by an increasing awareness of the “global village” concept as a result of the rapid growth and spread of communications technology and the interdependence of national economies. This movement to “relocate” in a community is also sparked by a resurgence of historical memory in our society. This postmodern “classicism” seeks to transcend the modern paradigm by looking to the past, especially the ancient and medieval periods of Western history. In keeping with its heterotopian and pluralistic underpinnings, postmodernism also continues to dismantle traditional cultural paradigms by celebrating all that is non-Western and all that is representative of the “marginalized” and “victimized” populations of the world. Naturally in this model there is the danger of what Veith calls the “new tribalism,” in which segmented and isolated communities replace the individual as “islands” in culture.29
The same trend toward relocation in community may be observed in the Christian subculture, especially with respect to worship. The historical understanding of the church as the community of God’s presence in the world is reemerging today. The “lone ranger” faith of the modernist paradigm is giving way to the idea of the celebration of mystery and the discovery of knowledge with the people of God in a faith community.30 The peril of the pendulum, however, is ever present. In the discarding of enlightenment “individualism,” we must be careful not to deny or neglect our “individuality,” by which we mean one’s total character and personality, those attributes and abilities that distinguish a particular human being as unique from all others.
Walter Brueggemann has forwarded a thoughtful and compelling thesis that the image of God in the human person is essentially relational and that the individual is a “covenant partner” with Yahweh.31 According to him, the characteristic markings of our covenantal humanness are commensurate with attributes of God’s nature and person: Yahweh is sovereign, Yahweh is faithful, and Yahweh is covenantal in the enactment of his sovereignty in that he authorizes the human person to represent him as a transactional partner in accomplishing God’s purposes for creation.32 He has identified a triad of disciplines of our humanness that facilitate this “partnering” with God in the promotion of justice and well-being in the world, such as listening, discerning, and trusting.
The individual who listens to God obeys his Word. The discerning person manages the generous mystery of God’s goodness in respectful and constructive ways for the benefit of creation and human society. The trusting human being has unshakable confidence in the reliability of Yahweh and his Word. One of the merits of Brueggemann’s model of the person as Yahweh’s partner is that it respects the tension between God’s sovereignty and human freedom. It also affirms the value of the individual in community and recognizes the importance of individuality in the divine scheme for restoring all creation. Only such an approach can explain the “venturesome initiative” of a spunky teenager who accepts Goliath’s challenge to engage in a seemingly one-sided duel (1 Sam. 17:32), a brash adviser whose counsel thwarts the preeminent political adviser of the day (2 Sam. 17:14), or even an insubordinate princess who betrays her own parents by kidnapping a child from the royal nursery (2 Chron. 22:11–12).
The books of Chronicles afford ample opportunity to preach and teach these disciplines of our humanness through character studies—both positive and negative. For example, Jehoiada the priest is a study in courageous “listening (obedience)” to the word of Yahweh when he “showed his strength” (23:1) and set events in motion to honor the “promise of God” concerning Davidic kingship (23:3). Heroic Jehosheba is a marvelous example of “discernment” in her well-managed and carefully guarded decision to “kidnap” Joash and hide him away “for the sake of the community in the service of Yahweh’s will for justice.”33
By way of negative example, the usurper Athaliah illustrates the discipline of trust gone awry in her unchecked willingness to “assert” her power for the destruction of the family of David (22:10). As Brueggemann has noted, the courage to assert oneself in “venturesome initiative” must be tempered by the “confidence to yield” in faith to the sovereignty to God.34 One without the other dissolves the partnership with God to which the person is called and overturns the justice and well-being God intends to promote in creation through that partnership.
Brueggemann introduces another set of markings of our humanness made necessary by the Fall and the onset of human sinfulness. This second grouping of disciplines “emerges when the individual is left in ‘the Pit.’”35 Trouble happens in our fallen world. It comes to human beings in many hideous forms: illness, injustice, oppression, isolation, and inevitably death. A life in crisis often compels the individual to seek God in prayer, specifically in the disciplines of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving.36 The complaint or lament is the personal expression of honest doubt to God about his goodness given in a particular situation of distress in the life circumstance of that individual. The petition is an act of self-insistence in which the individual presents personal needs, cares, and concerns to God (e.g., 1 Sam. 1:17; Ps. 20:5). The response of thanksgiving specifically acknowledges the goodness of God in transforming the situation prompting the complaint (e.g., Ps. 30:10–12).
The purpose of the prayer sequence is to invoke divine intervention, appealing to the power, goodness, and mercy of God to change the circumstance that has the person in the “pit.” The result of this sequence of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving is restored relationship with God—a rehabilitation of the individual as Yahweh’s partner. Ultimately, according to Brueggemann, this relocation of the person in covenant partnership with God gives rise to praise and hope37—praise because only God can redeem a person’s life from the pit (Ps. 40:2), and hope because God’s effective intervention dispels human fear (42:5, 11; 56:3, 11).38
As modernism gives way to postmodernism and both secular society and the Christian church recover a new sense of collective identity in their denial of “individualism” and rediscovery of “community,” let us not forget the Chronicler’s affirmation of human “individuality.” His emphasis on named individuals in the genealogical prologue and the narrative history of the Israelite monarchies reminds each of us of our uniqueness and importance as Yahweh’s “listening, discerning, and trusting partner” in the ever-unfolding drama of redemption. In the stories of a man like Jehoiada and a woman like Jehosheba, the Chronicler proclaims that each person is indeed fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of our God (Ps. 139). More than this, the Chronicler reminds us that each person of faith in the God of the Bible becomes an integral player on the stage of redemptive history as he or she steps out and “shows strength” with the help of the Holy Spirit (2 Chron. 23:1). His record of Hebrew history becomes an invitation and exhortation to renew our partnership with Yahweh in the making of “His-story” as Jesus Christ continues to build his church in the world!
Original Meaning
Jehoram (21:4–20)
THE CHRONICLER’S ACCOUNT of King Jehoram’s reign is unusual in that regnal résumés frame the narrative like bookends (21:4–7, 20). As in the case with the previous royal summaries of Asa and Jehoshaphat, Chronicles more than doubles the parallel in 2 Kings 8:16–24.
Jehoram is the first king to receive an entirely negative review by the Chronicler. As Japhet has observed, this is especially noticeable in the dark tone set for his reign by an emphasis on his fratricide at the onset of his rule (21:4) and his fatal illness cutting short his tenure on Judah’s throne (21:19).1 Two recurring themes are dominant in this entire unit: Judah’s affiliation with Baal because of the alliance with the “house of Ahab” (21:6; 22:3, 4, 7, 8), and the threat to the survival of the royal line of King David (21:7; 22:10).
The literary genre of the section is identified as “report,” including an uncommon report of a prophetic oracle in the form of Elijah’s letter to King Jehoram (21:12–15). Dillard’s suggestion that the writer has shaped the narrative in the form of a palistrophe (i.e., a chiastic literary structure that counterbalances key theological themes focused on one fundamental teaching) has merit.2 The key theme or idea is the atrocity of Jehoram’s fratricide. Elijah’s letter serves as the hinge or midpoint of a larger inverted thematic structure:
A Chronology (21:5)
B Wrongdoing (royal sons) (21:4, 6–7)
C Rebellion of Edom and Libnah (21:8–11)
D Letter from Elijah (royal sons) (21:12–15)
C′ Rebellion of Philistines and Arabs (21:16–17)
B′ Punishment for wrongdoing (royal sons) (21:17–19)
A′ Chronology (21:20)
Introducing the kings of Judah with a regnal résumé and theological review is typical of the Chronicler’s narrative style. The accession age formula and length of reign formula (21:5) date Jehoram’s eight-year rule to 848–841 B.C. The writer assumes the audience’s knowledge of the parallel in 2 Kings. What is atypical in this section of the Chronicler’s narrative is the report of a crime prefaced to the résumé, namely, Jehoram’s fratricide (21:4).
The execution of political rivals, even family members, is not unprecedented in the Old Testament (e.g., Judg. 9:5; 2 Kings 10:11; 11:1). The practice was common in the biblical world and especially in Canaanite culture. The custom was probably imported into the monarchy of Judah by the counsel of Jehoram’s wife Athaliah, since her mother, Jezebel, was a Phoenician princess who worshiped the god Baal. No doubt this influence contributed to Athaliah’s vendetta against the family of David (2 Chron. 22:10). The Chronicler uses the earlier name list of Jehoram’s brothers to foreground his crime of fratricide (21:2). What a difference one’s perspective brings to a situation, whether theological or political (as here).
The numerous sons born to King Jehoshaphat were a sign of God’s favor to a ruler who sought to do what was right in the eyes of the Lord (20:32). Yet, for wicked Jehoram (needled by a power-crazed wife) his brothers were but potential rivals and a threat to the stability and longevity of his kingship.
Jehoram’s crime of fratricide is the first of four acts of violence against the house of David in this narrative unit (21:4, 17; 22:8–9, 10–11). The Chronicler traces the wickedness of Jehoram directly to his marriage to “a daughter of Ahab” (21:6). Tragically, the corruption of godly kingship through intermarriage is a repeated theme in the history of the Israelite monarchy (e.g., 1 Kings 11:3; 16:31). According to the indictment of King Ahab by Jehu, the ways of the house of Ahab were idolatry and witchcraft—the antithesis of the code of conduct that the Israelites received at Mount Sinai (2 Kings 9:22; cf. Ex. 20:4; Deut. 18:10). In the present case, the affiliation of the house of Judah with the house of Ahab through the marriage of Jehoram and Athaliah is a recipe for self-destruction. The Hebrew sage knows there can be no other outcome, for the house of the wicked will be destroyed (Prov. 14:11). This explains why Jehoram is tagged with the same negative theological review given to the rulers of the northern kingdom of Israel (2 Chron. 21:6b; cf. 2 Kings 13:2, 11).
The ray of hope in this black history gleams from the “lamp” of David, maintained by the promise of God (21:7). The faithfulness of God to the Davidic covenant sets up the conflict that carries the plot of the biblical story from the Israelite monarchy right on through to the Gospels and the book of Revelation, namely, the continuation of the line of David and the fulfillment of the divine promise in the face of great wickedness poised to destroy that family. The truth that God is eternally faithful to the word of his covenant as demonstrated throughout the history of the Davidic monarchy is also a message of hope for the Chronicler’s audience (cf. Ps. 111:5, 9). His retelling of Israel’s history is a reminder that God’s promise remains operative and that the lamp of David still burns. That truth is no less important for the New Testament writers as Israel awaits the coming of David’s kingdom and the triumph of his root (Mark 11:10; Rev. 5:5).
The report of rebellions against Jehoram and Judah by Edom and Libnah (21:8–10a) closely follows 2 Kings 8:20–22. David had conquered Edom, and the territory was a satellite state during Solomon’s reign (2 Sam. 8:13–14; 1 Kings 11:15–17). Judah’s hegemony over Edom was apparently reestablished during the reign of Asa or Jehoshaphat; once again the region was a vassal nation to the Davidic dynasty.
Libnah was a city of the western foothills of Palestine allotted to the tribe of Judah (Josh. 15:42). The town is also identified as a Levitical city in the Judah-Simeon list of allotments (21:13). The exact location of this city is disputed by archaeologists, but the site was clearly a border town between Judah and Philistia on the western boundary shared by the two kingdoms.
According to the Chronicler’s theology of immediate retribution, there is direct correspondence between a king’s political power and his faithfulness to the tenets of Yahweh’s covenant. Jehoram’s political weakness is attested by his failure to control former Judean satellite states and cities. The author’s theological commentary on the two revolts against Jehoram places blame directly on the king’s sin of idolatry, implied in the references to the “high places” and the activity of the people in “prostituting themselves” (21:10b–11). By way of personal example and public policy, Jehoram is held responsible for leading God’s people astray in their worship.
Thus, the rebellion of Jehoram becomes another example in the history of the Davidic monarchy of a successor undoing the work of his predecessor. In this case, the internal decay associated with Jehoram’s apostasy not only nullifies the reforms of his father, Jehoshaphat, but also leads to the loss of gains made in foreign policy by both Asa and Jehoshaphat.
Along with royal speeches and prayers, the report of Elijah’s letter to King Jehoram is typical of the kinds of material peculiar to the Chronicler in the nonsynoptic portions of his history. Critics have challenged the letter’s authenticity, contending it is the creation of the Chronicler. Primary among the reasons for this is the omission of the letter in the Kings parallel, the northern kingdom focus of Elijah’s prophetic ministry, and the fact that Elijah was not alive during the reign of Jehoram.
Selman, however, has cogently responded that although the presence of a letter from Elijah is unexpected, its authenticity need not be questioned.3 For instance, Elijah was alive during part of Jehoram’s reign since he was apparently a coregent with Jehoshaphat as early as 853 B.C. Prophetic documents like letters and written oracles are known at the same time period (cf. 1 Chron. 29:29; 2 Chron. 20:34). Finally, 2 Kings suggests that Elijah and Elisha were complementary prophets at least for a time and that Elijah’s letter may have been written during this period of his old age before his translation into heaven (cf. 2 Kings 2:1–2).
The letter’s contents reflect Elijah’s confrontation with the house of Ahab in both subject matter and tone. Although the other features of ancient letters are lacking, the body of Elijah’s letter is characteristic of Old Testament prophetic speech. The messenger formula (“this is what the LORD … says,” 21:12) identifies the source and authority of the message. The pattern of indictment followed by the pronouncement of judgment is typical of the structure of preexilic prophetic oracles. Jehoram’s crimes are twofold: adhering to the ways of the kings of the rival northern kingdom and murdering his own brothers (21:13). The phrase “the ways of the kings of Israel” refers to Jeroboam’s sin of idolatry, perpetuated by all his successors in Israel (1 Kings 14:9; cf. 15:34).
The expression “prostitute themselves” (21:13; Hiphil of znh) connotes spiritual harlotry—the worship of the Canaanite deities instead of God (1 Chron. 5:25; 2 Chron. 21:11, 13). According to Elijah’s letter, God’s judgment will reach as far as Jehoram’s sin, impacting in reverse order the royal family and the people of Judah (2 Chron. 21:14). The king’s punishment, a hideous and lingering disease (21:15), strikes at the heart of Jehoram’s sin—his failure to recognize that kingship belongs to God and not to any human being. The humiliating malady exposes his mortality and mocks his dignity as royalty, calling to mind the admonition of the psalmist: “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save” (Ps. 146:3).
The Chronicler understands Jehoram’s punishment as the work of God, the Lord of the nations and the Lord of history (2 Sam. 22:48; 2 Chron. 20:6; Ps. 33:10–11). The report of the revolt on the part of the Philistines and Arabs (2 Chron. 21:16b) validates the prophecy of Elijah against the royal household (21:14) and underscores the theme of immediate divine retribution in Chronicles. The capture (and eventual execution) of the royal family and the plundering of royal spoils (21:17) strikes a telling blow at the core values of kingship, humanly speaking. As Dillard has observed, “if progeny is a measure of divine favor, their loss shows divine anger.”4
The reference to “the king’s palace” (21:17) presupposes the knowledge that members of the royal family have been stationed in royal quarters in various fortified cities throughout the kingdom (cf. 21:3). Ironically, the purpose behind this maneuver was to prevent the massacre of the entire royal family in a single attack against Jerusalem. We must assume Ahaziah and his mother, Athaliah, remain in Jerusalem, thus explaining their survival of the invasion.5
The focus of the report of divine judgment against the house of Jehoram shifts to the king himself (21:18–19). Again, God is identified as the agent of justice in the punishment of Jehoram’s sin (21:18; cf. v. 10). Selman observes the language of Chronicles is reminiscent of the “Yahweh war” motif (i.e., God “aroused … the hostility of,” 21:16), indicating the gravity of the sin of idolatry and justifying the severity of God’s response.6 The “aroused nations of the earth are Yahweh’s servants for weal or woe.”7
God is a jealous God, who will not share his glory with idols (Isa. 42:8). As in the case of Asa (16:12–14) and Uzziah (26:16–19), disobedience to God results in immediate punishment in the form of some serious physical ailment. Jehoram is afflicted with a humiliating and an incurable illness, described only as an excruciatingly painful disease of the bowels (21:14, 18).8 Tragically, this descendant of David dies ignominiously, and even his own people refuse to honor him in death with the customary royal funeral fire (21:19; cf. 16:14).
The concluding regnal résumé (21:20) repeats information from the beginning résumé (21:5). The report shares in common with 2 Kings 8:23–24 only the fact that Jehoram is buried in the city of David. Sadly, his unpopularity is broadcast in the epitaph that Jehoram dies “to no one’s regret” (2 Chron. 21:20b). Thompson has noted that the Chronicler’s contempt for Jehoram extends even to the omission of the historical citation formula, thus preventing the consultation of sources for further information about the king (cf. 2 Kings 8:23).9 The last words concerning Jehoram are both a parting insult of his person and a final assessment of his reign—he is denied burial in the royal tomb complex of the Davidic family (2 Chron. 21:20d). This is a fitting end for Jehoram, since he has walked in the ways of the house of Ahab, not David.
King Ahaziah (22:1–9)
Bridging Contexts
THE ONE AND THE MANY. One of the fascinating aspects of the cultural context of the biblical world is the relationship of the “one” (i.e., a person) to the “many” (i.e., the clan, tribe, or nation). In sociological terms we are referring to the interface of the individual with the group. Biblical scholars have described the predominance of the “many” or national identity in the worldview of the ancients as “corporate personality” or “group solidarity.”24
The basic concept of corporate personality means that the whole group may function as a single individual or, alternately, a single individual may represent the group. Characteristically in a group-centric society, the individual submits personal rights to the collective good of the group, seeks to conform to group norms, and promotes the interdependence of the group.25 Typically, group membership among the societies of the ancient world included both dead ancestors and the unborn. In one sense, then, “the group could be conceived as living forever” since its corporate identity extended beyond the present to the both the past and the future.26
This dynamic relationship of the “one” to the “many” in group solidarity is readily seen in the story of Achan’s sin following the battle of Jericho and its impact on the nation of Israel and his family (Josh. 7). Achan’s sins of covetousness, theft, and false testimony for failing to confess his transgression when given ample opportunity compromised the holiness of the whole nation as God’s covenant community (7:11). Not only was Achan put to death for his own sin, but also his family was stoned for presumed complicity in their father’s crime (7:25; cf. Ex. 20:5; Deut. 24:16). Furthermore, Achan’s violation of Yahweh’s taboo on the plunder of Jericho had ramifications for the entire nation insofar as the rout of the Hebrews in the first battle at Ai occurred because “Israel” had sinned (Josh. 7:5, 11).
The idea of group solidarity, however, does pose certain theological problems heard especially in the complaints and laments of the righteous concerning God’s justice. The destruction and exile of both the divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah forecast by the prophets of God meant that the so-called “righteous remnant” suffered the same fate as those who had abandoned Yahweh’s covenant (cf. Hab. 1:13). Thus, in the aftermath of the horrors of the Babylonian exile, the Jews raised the “sour grapes” parable in protest of the principle that one generation should bear the punishment for the sin of another (Jer. 31:29; Ezek. 18:2). In response, both Jeremiah and Ezekiel predicted a redefinition of the relationship of the “one” to the “many” in the new covenant, which would bring an even greater degree of individual responsibility and personal accountability before God (Jer. 31:30; Ezek. 18:4, 30). As late as Malachi’s preaching, the Israelites raised the lingering question of the merit of covenant obedience to Yahweh when it appeared that God punished the righteous for the deeds of the wicked (Mal. 3:14–15).
Even into the New Testament period, Jesus is questioned as to the cause of divine judgment in an individual’s life, whether it should be attributed to that person’s sin or the parents’ sin (John 9:2). Jesus’ response is interesting because it asserts that the principle of divine retribution cannot be applied wholesale to individual misfortune (cf. Luke 13:4–5). Paul too recognized that vestiges of corporate personality remain in the new covenant since the sin of an individual put the entire church or community of faith at risk of divine judgment (1 Cor. 5:6).
We have already observed that the theme of “all Israel” is foundational to the Chronicler’s retelling of Hebrew history (see “Audience” in the introduction). The widespread use of this phrase in Chronicles suggests the writer has in mind the citizenry of the entire nation, including the political leadership, the religious leadership, and the general populace. The intentional reference to “all Israel” in the context of the divided monarchies indicates that the writer is attempting to heal wounds of schism among the tribes as a result of the rift caused by the competing kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Moreover, the emphasis on the dual theological themes of the Davidic covenant and temple worship in Chronicles serves to remind the postexilic community that their unity is assured by divine promise and exhibited in their common worship of Yahweh, the God of the covenant. Finally, the Chronicler’s representation of the nation by appealing to an outstanding personality like Abraham or David illustrates that the nation of Israel as a group includes its past, present, and future members.
Yet as important as the corporate identity of “all Israel” is for the Chronicler, he does not overlook the strategic role of the “one” in relationship to the “many.” He betrays his interest in the individual almost immediately in the anecdotal stories and heroic acts inserted within the tribal genealogies. In point of fact, the “two ways” by which the writer characterizes the Israelite kings are identified with individuals: the way of David and the way of Ahab. Even this section of Chronicles is less about the Judean monarchy and more about two contrasting individuals: “one” Athaliah acting for the “many” for evil purposes, and “one” Jehoiada acting for the “many” for good purposes.
As a perceptive historian the Chronicler is careful to recognize and document the strategic role of certain individuals in the ebb and flow of Israel’s history. As a clever writer he helps us appreciate the vital sociological relationship between the “one” and the “many” in his retelling the story of Davidic kingship. As an insightful theologian, he anticipates the New Testament theology of the “one” acting for the “many” in Paul’s teaching of human sin and divine redemption rooted in Adam and in Jesus Christ as the “second Adam” (Rom. 5:12–17).
Contemporary Significance
Contemporary Significance
INDIVIDUAL AND COMMUNITY. The current cultural transition from a somewhat monolithic modernist worldview to eclectic postmodernist worldviews has witnessed paradigm transformations in several sociological and anthropological categories.27 One of these philosophical shifts has occurred along the “fault line” of the “one” and the “many” in contemporary sociology. There appears to a growing trend toward the rejection of the “individualism” of modernism and the acceptance of the notion of “community” embraced by postmodernism.28 Individualism or the autonomy of self is a by-product of Enlightenment rationalism and may be defined as the conception that all values, rights, and duties originate in the individual—that is, an idolatry of self and self-interest.
The ideological countercurrent of postmodernism places a renewed emphasis on group identity and communal relationships. This has been stirred, in part, by an increasing awareness of the “global village” concept as a result of the rapid growth and spread of communications technology and the interdependence of national economies. This movement to “relocate” in a community is also sparked by a resurgence of historical memory in our society. This postmodern “classicism” seeks to transcend the modern paradigm by looking to the past, especially the ancient and medieval periods of Western history. In keeping with its heterotopian and pluralistic underpinnings, postmodernism also continues to dismantle traditional cultural paradigms by celebrating all that is non-Western and all that is representative of the “marginalized” and “victimized” populations of the world. Naturally in this model there is the danger of what Veith calls the “new tribalism,” in which segmented and isolated communities replace the individual as “islands” in culture.29
The same trend toward relocation in community may be observed in the Christian subculture, especially with respect to worship. The historical understanding of the church as the community of God’s presence in the world is reemerging today. The “lone ranger” faith of the modernist paradigm is giving way to the idea of the celebration of mystery and the discovery of knowledge with the people of God in a faith community.30 The peril of the pendulum, however, is ever present. In the discarding of enlightenment “individualism,” we must be careful not to deny or neglect our “individuality,” by which we mean one’s total character and personality, those attributes and abilities that distinguish a particular human being as unique from all others.
Walter Brueggemann has forwarded a thoughtful and compelling thesis that the image of God in the human person is essentially relational and that the individual is a “covenant partner” with Yahweh.31 According to him, the characteristic markings of our covenantal humanness are commensurate with attributes of God’s nature and person: Yahweh is sovereign, Yahweh is faithful, and Yahweh is covenantal in the enactment of his sovereignty in that he authorizes the human person to represent him as a transactional partner in accomplishing God’s purposes for creation.32 He has identified a triad of disciplines of our humanness that facilitate this “partnering” with God in the promotion of justice and well-being in the world, such as listening, discerning, and trusting.
The individual who listens to God obeys his Word. The discerning person manages the generous mystery of God’s goodness in respectful and constructive ways for the benefit of creation and human society. The trusting human being has unshakable confidence in the reliability of Yahweh and his Word. One of the merits of Brueggemann’s model of the person as Yahweh’s partner is that it respects the tension between God’s sovereignty and human freedom. It also affirms the value of the individual in community and recognizes the importance of individuality in the divine scheme for restoring all creation. Only such an approach can explain the “venturesome initiative” of a spunky teenager who accepts Goliath’s challenge to engage in a seemingly one-sided duel (1 Sam. 17:32), a brash adviser whose counsel thwarts the preeminent political adviser of the day (2 Sam. 17:14), or even an insubordinate princess who betrays her own parents by kidnapping a child from the royal nursery (2 Chron. 22:11–12).
The books of Chronicles afford ample opportunity to preach and teach these disciplines of our humanness through character studies—both positive and negative. For example, Jehoiada the priest is a study in courageous “listening (obedience)” to the word of Yahweh when he “showed his strength” (23:1) and set events in motion to honor the “promise of God” concerning Davidic kingship (23:3). Heroic Jehosheba is a marvelous example of “discernment” in her well-managed and carefully guarded decision to “kidnap” Joash and hide him away “for the sake of the community in the service of Yahweh’s will for justice.”33
By way of negative example, the usurper Athaliah illustrates the discipline of trust gone awry in her unchecked willingness to “assert” her power for the destruction of the family of David (22:10). As Brueggemann has noted, the courage to assert oneself in “venturesome initiative” must be tempered by the “confidence to yield” in faith to the sovereignty to God.34 One without the other dissolves the partnership with God to which the person is called and overturns the justice and well-being God intends to promote in creation through that partnership.
Brueggemann introduces another set of markings of our humanness made necessary by the Fall and the onset of human sinfulness. This second grouping of disciplines “emerges when the individual is left in ‘the Pit.’”35 Trouble happens in our fallen world. It comes to human beings in many hideous forms: illness, injustice, oppression, isolation, and inevitably death. A life in crisis often compels the individual to seek God in prayer, specifically in the disciplines of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving.36 The complaint or lament is the personal expression of honest doubt to God about his goodness given in a particular situation of distress in the life circumstance of that individual. The petition is an act of self-insistence in which the individual presents personal needs, cares, and concerns to God (e.g., 1 Sam. 1:17; Ps. 20:5). The response of thanksgiving specifically acknowledges the goodness of God in transforming the situation prompting the complaint (e.g., Ps. 30:10–12).
The purpose of the prayer sequence is to invoke divine intervention, appealing to the power, goodness, and mercy of God to change the circumstance that has the person in the “pit.” The result of this sequence of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving is restored relationship with God—a rehabilitation of the individual as Yahweh’s partner. Ultimately, according to Brueggemann, this relocation of the person in covenant partnership with God gives rise to praise and hope37—praise because only God can redeem a person’s life from the pit (Ps. 40:2), and hope because God’s effective intervention dispels human fear (42:5, 11; 56:3, 11).38
As modernism gives way to postmodernism and both secular society and the Christian church recover a new sense of collective identity in their denial of “individualism” and rediscovery of “community,” let us not forget the Chronicler’s affirmation of human “individuality.” His emphasis on named individuals in the genealogical prologue and the narrative history of the Israelite monarchies reminds each of us of our uniqueness and importance as Yahweh’s “listening, discerning, and trusting partner” in the ever-unfolding drama of redemption. In the stories of a man like Jehoiada and a woman like Jehosheba, the Chronicler proclaims that each person is indeed fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of our God (Ps. 139). More than this, the Chronicler reminds us that each person of faith in the God of the Bible becomes an integral player on the stage of redemptive history as he or she steps out and “shows strength” with the help of the Holy Spirit (2 Chron. 23:1). His record of Hebrew history becomes an invitation and exhortation to renew our partnership with Yahweh in the making of “His-story” as Jesus Christ continues to build his church in the world!
Original Meaning
Jehoram (21:4–20)
THE CHRONICLER’S ACCOUNT of King Jehoram’s reign is unusual in that regnal résumés frame the narrative like bookends (21:4–7, 20). As in the case with the previous royal summaries of Asa and Jehoshaphat, Chronicles more than doubles the parallel in 2 Kings 8:16–24.
Jehoram is the first king to receive an entirely negative review by the Chronicler. As Japhet has observed, this is especially noticeable in the dark tone set for his reign by an emphasis on his fratricide at the onset of his rule (21:4) and his fatal illness cutting short his tenure on Judah’s throne (21:19).1 Two recurring themes are dominant in this entire unit: Judah’s affiliation with Baal because of the alliance with the “house of Ahab” (21:6; 22:3, 4, 7, 8), and the threat to the survival of the royal line of King David (21:7; 22:10).
The literary genre of the section is identified as “report,” including an uncommon report of a prophetic oracle in the form of Elijah’s letter to King Jehoram (21:12–15). Dillard’s suggestion that the writer has shaped the narrative in the form of a palistrophe (i.e., a chiastic literary structure that counterbalances key theological themes focused on one fundamental teaching) has merit.2 The key theme or idea is the atrocity of Jehoram’s fratricide. Elijah’s letter serves as the hinge or midpoint of a larger inverted thematic structure:
A Chronology (21:5)
B Wrongdoing (royal sons) (21:4, 6–7)
C Rebellion of Edom and Libnah (21:8–11)
D Letter from Elijah (royal sons) (21:12–15)
C′ Rebellion of Philistines and Arabs (21:16–17)
B′ Punishment for wrongdoing (royal sons) (21:17–19)
A′ Chronology (21:20)
Introducing the kings of Judah with a regnal résumé and theological review is typical of the Chronicler’s narrative style. The accession age formula and length of reign formula (21:5) date Jehoram’s eight-year rule to 848–841 B.C. The writer assumes the audience’s knowledge of the parallel in 2 Kings. What is atypical in this section of the Chronicler’s narrative is the report of a crime prefaced to the résumé, namely, Jehoram’s fratricide (21:4).
The execution of political rivals, even family members, is not unprecedented in the Old Testament (e.g., Judg. 9:5; 2 Kings 10:11; 11:1). The practice was common in the biblical world and especially in Canaanite culture. The custom was probably imported into the monarchy of Judah by the counsel of Jehoram’s wife Athaliah, since her mother, Jezebel, was a Phoenician princess who worshiped the god Baal. No doubt this influence contributed to Athaliah’s vendetta against the family of David (2 Chron. 22:10). The Chronicler uses the earlier name list of Jehoram’s brothers to foreground his crime of fratricide (21:2). What a difference one’s perspective brings to a situation, whether theological or political (as here).
The numerous sons born to King Jehoshaphat were a sign of God’s favor to a ruler who sought to do what was right in the eyes of the Lord (20:32). Yet, for wicked Jehoram (needled by a power-crazed wife) his brothers were but potential rivals and a threat to the stability and longevity of his kingship.
Jehoram’s crime of fratricide is the first of four acts of violence against the house of David in this narrative unit (21:4, 17; 22:8–9, 10–11). The Chronicler traces the wickedness of Jehoram directly to his marriage to “a daughter of Ahab” (21:6). Tragically, the corruption of godly kingship through intermarriage is a repeated theme in the history of the Israelite monarchy (e.g., 1 Kings 11:3; 16:31). According to the indictment of King Ahab by Jehu, the ways of the house of Ahab were idolatry and witchcraft—the antithesis of the code of conduct that the Israelites received at Mount Sinai (2 Kings 9:22; cf. Ex. 20:4; Deut. 18:10). In the present case, the affiliation of the house of Judah with the house of Ahab through the marriage of Jehoram and Athaliah is a recipe for self-destruction. The Hebrew sage knows there can be no other outcome, for the house of the wicked will be destroyed (Prov. 14:11). This explains why Jehoram is tagged with the same negative theological review given to the rulers of the northern kingdom of Israel (2 Chron. 21:6b; cf. 2 Kings 13:2, 11).
The ray of hope in this black history gleams from the “lamp” of David, maintained by the promise of God (21:7). The faithfulness of God to the Davidic covenant sets up the conflict that carries the plot of the biblical story from the Israelite monarchy right on through to the Gospels and the book of Revelation, namely, the continuation of the line of David and the fulfillment of the divine promise in the face of great wickedness poised to destroy that family. The truth that God is eternally faithful to the word of his covenant as demonstrated throughout the history of the Davidic monarchy is also a message of hope for the Chronicler’s audience (cf. Ps. 111:5, 9). His retelling of Israel’s history is a reminder that God’s promise remains operative and that the lamp of David still burns. That truth is no less important for the New Testament writers as Israel awaits the coming of David’s kingdom and the triumph of his root (Mark 11:10; Rev. 5:5).
The report of rebellions against Jehoram and Judah by Edom and Libnah (21:8–10a) closely follows 2 Kings 8:20–22. David had conquered Edom, and the territory was a satellite state during Solomon’s reign (2 Sam. 8:13–14; 1 Kings 11:15–17). Judah’s hegemony over Edom was apparently reestablished during the reign of Asa or Jehoshaphat; once again the region was a vassal nation to the Davidic dynasty.
Libnah was a city of the western foothills of Palestine allotted to the tribe of Judah (Josh. 15:42). The town is also identified as a Levitical city in the Judah-Simeon list of allotments (21:13). The exact location of this city is disputed by archaeologists, but the site was clearly a border town between Judah and Philistia on the western boundary shared by the two kingdoms.
According to the Chronicler’s theology of immediate retribution, there is direct correspondence between a king’s political power and his faithfulness to the tenets of Yahweh’s covenant. Jehoram’s political weakness is attested by his failure to control former Judean satellite states and cities. The author’s theological commentary on the two revolts against Jehoram places blame directly on the king’s sin of idolatry, implied in the references to the “high places” and the activity of the people in “prostituting themselves” (21:10b–11). By way of personal example and public policy, Jehoram is held responsible for leading God’s people astray in their worship.
Thus, the rebellion of Jehoram becomes another example in the history of the Davidic monarchy of a successor undoing the work of his predecessor. In this case, the internal decay associated with Jehoram’s apostasy not only nullifies the reforms of his father, Jehoshaphat, but also leads to the loss of gains made in foreign policy by both Asa and Jehoshaphat.
Along with royal speeches and prayers, the report of Elijah’s letter to King Jehoram is typical of the kinds of material peculiar to the Chronicler in the nonsynoptic portions of his history. Critics have challenged the letter’s authenticity, contending it is the creation of the Chronicler. Primary among the reasons for this is the omission of the letter in the Kings parallel, the northern kingdom focus of Elijah’s prophetic ministry, and the fact that Elijah was not alive during the reign of Jehoram.
Selman, however, has cogently responded that although the presence of a letter from Elijah is unexpected, its authenticity need not be questioned.3 For instance, Elijah was alive during part of Jehoram’s reign since he was apparently a coregent with Jehoshaphat as early as 853 B.C. Prophetic documents like letters and written oracles are known at the same time period (cf. 1 Chron. 29:29; 2 Chron. 20:34). Finally, 2 Kings suggests that Elijah and Elisha were complementary prophets at least for a time and that Elijah’s letter may have been written during this period of his old age before his translation into heaven (cf. 2 Kings 2:1–2).
The letter’s contents reflect Elijah’s confrontation with the house of Ahab in both subject matter and tone. Although the other features of ancient letters are lacking, the body of Elijah’s letter is characteristic of Old Testament prophetic speech. The messenger formula (“this is what the LORD … says,” 21:12) identifies the source and authority of the message. The pattern of indictment followed by the pronouncement of judgment is typical of the structure of preexilic prophetic oracles. Jehoram’s crimes are twofold: adhering to the ways of the kings of the rival northern kingdom and murdering his own brothers (21:13). The phrase “the ways of the kings of Israel” refers to Jeroboam’s sin of idolatry, perpetuated by all his successors in Israel (1 Kings 14:9; cf. 15:34).
The expression “prostitute themselves” (21:13; Hiphil of znh) connotes spiritual harlotry—the worship of the Canaanite deities instead of God (1 Chron. 5:25; 2 Chron. 21:11, 13). According to Elijah’s letter, God’s judgment will reach as far as Jehoram’s sin, impacting in reverse order the royal family and the people of Judah (2 Chron. 21:14). The king’s punishment, a hideous and lingering disease (21:15), strikes at the heart of Jehoram’s sin—his failure to recognize that kingship belongs to God and not to any human being. The humiliating malady exposes his mortality and mocks his dignity as royalty, calling to mind the admonition of the psalmist: “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save” (Ps. 146:3).
The Chronicler understands Jehoram’s punishment as the work of God, the Lord of the nations and the Lord of history (2 Sam. 22:48; 2 Chron. 20:6; Ps. 33:10–11). The report of the revolt on the part of the Philistines and Arabs (2 Chron. 21:16b) validates the prophecy of Elijah against the royal household (21:14) and underscores the theme of immediate divine retribution in Chronicles. The capture (and eventual execution) of the royal family and the plundering of royal spoils (21:17) strikes a telling blow at the core values of kingship, humanly speaking. As Dillard has observed, “if progeny is a measure of divine favor, their loss shows divine anger.”4
The reference to “the king’s palace” (21:17) presupposes the knowledge that members of the royal family have been stationed in royal quarters in various fortified cities throughout the kingdom (cf. 21:3). Ironically, the purpose behind this maneuver was to prevent the massacre of the entire royal family in a single attack against Jerusalem. We must assume Ahaziah and his mother, Athaliah, remain in Jerusalem, thus explaining their survival of the invasion.5
The focus of the report of divine judgment against the house of Jehoram shifts to the king himself (21:18–19). Again, God is identified as the agent of justice in the punishment of Jehoram’s sin (21:18; cf. v. 10). Selman observes the language of Chronicles is reminiscent of the “Yahweh war” motif (i.e., God “aroused … the hostility of,” 21:16), indicating the gravity of the sin of idolatry and justifying the severity of God’s response.6 The “aroused nations of the earth are Yahweh’s servants for weal or woe.”7
God is a jealous God, who will not share his glory with idols (Isa. 42:8). As in the case of Asa (16:12–14) and Uzziah (26:16–19), disobedience to God results in immediate punishment in the form of some serious physical ailment. Jehoram is afflicted with a humiliating and an incurable illness, described only as an excruciatingly painful disease of the bowels (21:14, 18).8 Tragically, this descendant of David dies ignominiously, and even his own people refuse to honor him in death with the customary royal funeral fire (21:19; cf. 16:14).
The concluding regnal résumé (21:20) repeats information from the beginning résumé (21:5). The report shares in common with 2 Kings 8:23–24 only the fact that Jehoram is buried in the city of David. Sadly, his unpopularity is broadcast in the epitaph that Jehoram dies “to no one’s regret” (2 Chron. 21:20b). Thompson has noted that the Chronicler’s contempt for Jehoram extends even to the omission of the historical citation formula, thus preventing the consultation of sources for further information about the king (cf. 2 Kings 8:23).9 The last words concerning Jehoram are both a parting insult of his person and a final assessment of his reign—he is denied burial in the royal tomb complex of the Davidic family (2 Chron. 21:20d). This is a fitting end for Jehoram, since he has walked in the ways of the house of Ahab, not David.
King Ahaziah (22:1–9)
Bridging Contexts
THE ONE AND THE MANY. One of the fascinating aspects of the cultural context of the biblical world is the relationship of the “one” (i.e., a person) to the “many” (i.e., the clan, tribe, or nation). In sociological terms we are referring to the interface of the individual with the group. Biblical scholars have described the predominance of the “many” or national identity in the worldview of the ancients as “corporate personality” or “group solidarity.”24
The basic concept of corporate personality means that the whole group may function as a single individual or, alternately, a single individual may represent the group. Characteristically in a group-centric society, the individual submits personal rights to the collective good of the group, seeks to conform to group norms, and promotes the interdependence of the group.25 Typically, group membership among the societies of the ancient world included both dead ancestors and the unborn. In one sense, then, “the group could be conceived as living forever” since its corporate identity extended beyond the present to the both the past and the future.26
This dynamic relationship of the “one” to the “many” in group solidarity is readily seen in the story of Achan’s sin following the battle of Jericho and its impact on the nation of Israel and his family (Josh. 7). Achan’s sins of covetousness, theft, and false testimony for failing to confess his transgression when given ample opportunity compromised the holiness of the whole nation as God’s covenant community (7:11). Not only was Achan put to death for his own sin, but also his family was stoned for presumed complicity in their father’s crime (7:25; cf. Ex. 20:5; Deut. 24:16). Furthermore, Achan’s violation of Yahweh’s taboo on the plunder of Jericho had ramifications for the entire nation insofar as the rout of the Hebrews in the first battle at Ai occurred because “Israel” had sinned (Josh. 7:5, 11).
The idea of group solidarity, however, does pose certain theological problems heard especially in the complaints and laments of the righteous concerning God’s justice. The destruction and exile of both the divided kingdoms of Israel and Judah forecast by the prophets of God meant that the so-called “righteous remnant” suffered the same fate as those who had abandoned Yahweh’s covenant (cf. Hab. 1:13). Thus, in the aftermath of the horrors of the Babylonian exile, the Jews raised the “sour grapes” parable in protest of the principle that one generation should bear the punishment for the sin of another (Jer. 31:29; Ezek. 18:2). In response, both Jeremiah and Ezekiel predicted a redefinition of the relationship of the “one” to the “many” in the new covenant, which would bring an even greater degree of individual responsibility and personal accountability before God (Jer. 31:30; Ezek. 18:4, 30). As late as Malachi’s preaching, the Israelites raised the lingering question of the merit of covenant obedience to Yahweh when it appeared that God punished the righteous for the deeds of the wicked (Mal. 3:14–15).
Even into the New Testament period, Jesus is questioned as to the cause of divine judgment in an individual’s life, whether it should be attributed to that person’s sin or the parents’ sin (John 9:2). Jesus’ response is interesting because it asserts that the principle of divine retribution cannot be applied wholesale to individual misfortune (cf. Luke 13:4–5). Paul too recognized that vestiges of corporate personality remain in the new covenant since the sin of an individual put the entire church or community of faith at risk of divine judgment (1 Cor. 5:6).
We have already observed that the theme of “all Israel” is foundational to the Chronicler’s retelling of Hebrew history (see “Audience” in the introduction). The widespread use of this phrase in Chronicles suggests the writer has in mind the citizenry of the entire nation, including the political leadership, the religious leadership, and the general populace. The intentional reference to “all Israel” in the context of the divided monarchies indicates that the writer is attempting to heal wounds of schism among the tribes as a result of the rift caused by the competing kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Moreover, the emphasis on the dual theological themes of the Davidic covenant and temple worship in Chronicles serves to remind the postexilic community that their unity is assured by divine promise and exhibited in their common worship of Yahweh, the God of the covenant. Finally, the Chronicler’s representation of the nation by appealing to an outstanding personality like Abraham or David illustrates that the nation of Israel as a group includes its past, present, and future members.
Yet as important as the corporate identity of “all Israel” is for the Chronicler, he does not overlook the strategic role of the “one” in relationship to the “many.” He betrays his interest in the individual almost immediately in the anecdotal stories and heroic acts inserted within the tribal genealogies. In point of fact, the “two ways” by which the writer characterizes the Israelite kings are identified with individuals: the way of David and the way of Ahab. Even this section of Chronicles is less about the Judean monarchy and more about two contrasting individuals: “one” Athaliah acting for the “many” for evil purposes, and “one” Jehoiada acting for the “many” for good purposes.
As a perceptive historian the Chronicler is careful to recognize and document the strategic role of certain individuals in the ebb and flow of Israel’s history. As a clever writer he helps us appreciate the vital sociological relationship between the “one” and the “many” in his retelling the story of Davidic kingship. As an insightful theologian, he anticipates the New Testament theology of the “one” acting for the “many” in Paul’s teaching of human sin and divine redemption rooted in Adam and in Jesus Christ as the “second Adam” (Rom. 5:12–17).
Contemporary Significance
Contemporary Significance
INDIVIDUAL AND COMMUNITY. The current cultural transition from a somewhat monolithic modernist worldview to eclectic postmodernist worldviews has witnessed paradigm transformations in several sociological and anthropological categories.27 One of these philosophical shifts has occurred along the “fault line” of the “one” and the “many” in contemporary sociology. There appears to a growing trend toward the rejection of the “individualism” of modernism and the acceptance of the notion of “community” embraced by postmodernism.28 Individualism or the autonomy of self is a by-product of Enlightenment rationalism and may be defined as the conception that all values, rights, and duties originate in the individual—that is, an idolatry of self and self-interest.
The ideological countercurrent of postmodernism places a renewed emphasis on group identity and communal relationships. This has been stirred, in part, by an increasing awareness of the “global village” concept as a result of the rapid growth and spread of communications technology and the interdependence of national economies. This movement to “relocate” in a community is also sparked by a resurgence of historical memory in our society. This postmodern “classicism” seeks to transcend the modern paradigm by looking to the past, especially the ancient and medieval periods of Western history. In keeping with its heterotopian and pluralistic underpinnings, postmodernism also continues to dismantle traditional cultural paradigms by celebrating all that is non-Western and all that is representative of the “marginalized” and “victimized” populations of the world. Naturally in this model there is the danger of what Veith calls the “new tribalism,” in which segmented and isolated communities replace the individual as “islands” in culture.29
The same trend toward relocation in community may be observed in the Christian subculture, especially with respect to worship. The historical understanding of the church as the community of God’s presence in the world is reemerging today. The “lone ranger” faith of the modernist paradigm is giving way to the idea of the celebration of mystery and the discovery of knowledge with the people of God in a faith community.30 The peril of the pendulum, however, is ever present. In the discarding of enlightenment “individualism,” we must be careful not to deny or neglect our “individuality,” by which we mean one’s total character and personality, those attributes and abilities that distinguish a particular human being as unique from all others.
Walter Brueggemann has forwarded a thoughtful and compelling thesis that the image of God in the human person is essentially relational and that the individual is a “covenant partner” with Yahweh.31 According to him, the characteristic markings of our covenantal humanness are commensurate with attributes of God’s nature and person: Yahweh is sovereign, Yahweh is faithful, and Yahweh is covenantal in the enactment of his sovereignty in that he authorizes the human person to represent him as a transactional partner in accomplishing God’s purposes for creation.32 He has identified a triad of disciplines of our humanness that facilitate this “partnering” with God in the promotion of justice and well-being in the world, such as listening, discerning, and trusting.
The individual who listens to God obeys his Word. The discerning person manages the generous mystery of God’s goodness in respectful and constructive ways for the benefit of creation and human society. The trusting human being has unshakable confidence in the reliability of Yahweh and his Word. One of the merits of Brueggemann’s model of the person as Yahweh’s partner is that it respects the tension between God’s sovereignty and human freedom. It also affirms the value of the individual in community and recognizes the importance of individuality in the divine scheme for restoring all creation. Only such an approach can explain the “venturesome initiative” of a spunky teenager who accepts Goliath’s challenge to engage in a seemingly one-sided duel (1 Sam. 17:32), a brash adviser whose counsel thwarts the preeminent political adviser of the day (2 Sam. 17:14), or even an insubordinate princess who betrays her own parents by kidnapping a child from the royal nursery (2 Chron. 22:11–12).
The books of Chronicles afford ample opportunity to preach and teach these disciplines of our humanness through character studies—both positive and negative. For example, Jehoiada the priest is a study in courageous “listening (obedience)” to the word of Yahweh when he “showed his strength” (23:1) and set events in motion to honor the “promise of God” concerning Davidic kingship (23:3). Heroic Jehosheba is a marvelous example of “discernment” in her well-managed and carefully guarded decision to “kidnap” Joash and hide him away “for the sake of the community in the service of Yahweh’s will for justice.”33
By way of negative example, the usurper Athaliah illustrates the discipline of trust gone awry in her unchecked willingness to “assert” her power for the destruction of the family of David (22:10). As Brueggemann has noted, the courage to assert oneself in “venturesome initiative” must be tempered by the “confidence to yield” in faith to the sovereignty to God.34 One without the other dissolves the partnership with God to which the person is called and overturns the justice and well-being God intends to promote in creation through that partnership.
Brueggemann introduces another set of markings of our humanness made necessary by the Fall and the onset of human sinfulness. This second grouping of disciplines “emerges when the individual is left in ‘the Pit.’”35 Trouble happens in our fallen world. It comes to human beings in many hideous forms: illness, injustice, oppression, isolation, and inevitably death. A life in crisis often compels the individual to seek God in prayer, specifically in the disciplines of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving.36 The complaint or lament is the personal expression of honest doubt to God about his goodness given in a particular situation of distress in the life circumstance of that individual. The petition is an act of self-insistence in which the individual presents personal needs, cares, and concerns to God (e.g., 1 Sam. 1:17; Ps. 20:5). The response of thanksgiving specifically acknowledges the goodness of God in transforming the situation prompting the complaint (e.g., Ps. 30:10–12).
The purpose of the prayer sequence is to invoke divine intervention, appealing to the power, goodness, and mercy of God to change the circumstance that has the person in the “pit.” The result of this sequence of complaint, petition, and thanksgiving is restored relationship with God—a rehabilitation of the individual as Yahweh’s partner. Ultimately, according to Brueggemann, this relocation of the person in covenant partnership with God gives rise to praise and hope37—praise because only God can redeem a person’s life from the pit (Ps. 40:2), and hope because God’s effective intervention dispels human fear (42:5, 11; 56:3, 11).38
As modernism gives way to postmodernism and both secular society and the Christian church recover a new sense of collective identity in their denial of “individualism” and rediscovery of “community,” let us not forget the Chronicler’s affirmation of human “individuality.” His emphasis on named individuals in the genealogical prologue and the narrative history of the Israelite monarchies reminds each of us of our uniqueness and importance as Yahweh’s “listening, discerning, and trusting partner” in the ever-unfolding drama of redemption. In the stories of a man like Jehoiada and a woman like Jehosheba, the Chronicler proclaims that each person is indeed fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of our God (Ps. 139). More than this, the Chronicler reminds us that each person of faith in the God of the Bible becomes an integral player on the stage of redemptive history as he or she steps out and “shows strength” with the help of the Holy Spirit (2 Chron. 23:1). His record of Hebrew history becomes an invitation and exhortation to renew our partnership with Yahweh in the making of “His-story” as Jesus Christ continues to build his church in the world!