Episode #33  One Kingdom Survives

In this episode, Rabbi Reinman describes Yehu’s eradication of Baal worship and the eventual collapse and dissolution of the Kingdom of Israel.

The previous chapter traced the decline and fall of the Kingdom of Israel until the deportation of the people to distant places in the Assyrian Empire. This chapter traces the parallel fate of the Kingdom of Judah. The paths of the two kingdoms diverged after the death of Solomon and the division of his kingdom. The respective paths of the two kingdoms converged again when Asa, its king, gave his support to Omri’s claims to the throne of Israel and sealed it by taking Omri’s daughter as a wife for his son Yehoshaphat.

After Omri died and his son Achav ascended to the throne of Israel, Yehoshaphat and Achav, the two brothers-in-law, entered into a military alliance. The bond of blood was made even stronger when Yehoshaphat’s son Yehoram married Achav’s daughter Assaliah, his first cousin.

In 711 b.c.e., Yehoshaphat died, and Yehoram ascended to the throne of Judah. Four years earlier, Achav’s grandson Yehoram, through his son and successor Achaziah, had ascended to the throne of Israel. Two first cousins named Yehoram, both grandsons of Achav and Ezevel, sat on the thrones of Israel and Judah. Yehoram of Judah was by far a truer grandson than was Yehoram of Israel.

As soon as he ascended to the throne, he slaughtered all his male siblings ensuring that no one else would lay claim to his crown. Then with his bloodstained hands, he erected a temple of the Baal in Jerusalem.[1] For all its problems, Judah had not suffered widespread idolatry among the general population, but under Yehoram, the Baal cult of the northern kingdom spread to the southern kingdom as well.

Yehoram of Judah reigned for eight years and was succeeded by his son Achaziah, who followed in the exact footsteps of his father. After the death of Achaziah, his mother Assaliah, the daughter of Achav and Ezevel, followed the example of Yehoram, her husband. Just as he had exterminated all his siblings, she now exterminated all her grandchildren and placed the crown on her own head. Had she succeeded, the royal patrilineal bloodline of the Davidic dynasty would have come to an end, but she did not succeed.

One grandchild eluded her, a one-year-old boy named Yoash. The boy’s aunt Yehosheva, Achaziah’s sister, and her husband, Yehoiadah the Kohein Gadol (High Priest), secreted him in a bedchamber in the Temple, where he remained for six years.[2]

During those years, this evil daughter of Achav sat on the throne of the Davidic kings and ruled the Kingdom of Judah. In the seventh year, the seven-year-old Yoash was brought out of hiding and crowned, triggering a popular uprising. Assaliah was executed, and the temple of the Baal was destroyed.

Yoash, who reigned for forty years, began his reign as one of the righteous kings of Judah. Under the tutelage of his uncle Yehoiadah, he destroyed the temple of the Baal his grandmother had built in Jerusalem, but he was unsuccessful in putting an end to the private altars. He also raised funds for the renovation of the Beis Hamikdash after it had become dilapidated during Assaliah’s reign.

As long as Yehoiadah was alive, Yoash heeded his advice and did not veer from the path of righteousness. But when Yehoiadah passed away, Yoash was quickly led astray. Some of his generals bowed down to him and proclaimed him a god. If a person risked his life just by stepping into the Kodesh Kadashim, they argued, Yoash could not have survived there for six years if he was not a god.[3]

No longer having the benefit of wise counsel, Yoash allowed himself to be convinced, and for a brief period, paganism once again reared its head in Judah. But before long, a Syrian army attacked Judah. Yoash was wounded, and his officers assassinated him in his sickbed. A reign that had begun with glory ended in ignominy.

For over a century after the execution of the evil Assaliah, the Kingdom of Judah remained free of pagan contamination, except for one brief lapse, and enjoyed relative stability and prosperity. After Yoash’s forty-year reign, his son Amaziah reigned for twenty-nine years, his grandson Uzziah for thirty-seven years and his great-grandson Yossam for sixteen years. All these kings were good men, loyal to God and the Torah, but they were unable to break the national habit of sacrificing on private altars.

It was no secret that the Torah forbade sacrificing anywhere other than in the Beis Hamikdash. The people had been admonished by the prophets and the righteous kings numerous times, but they persisted in their transgression. It seems incongruous to serve God by disobeying His commandments.

During this time, the core element of the Jewish people − the Sanhedrin, the Kohanim, the prophets, the Torah scholars and even some of the simple people − continued to love and obey the Almighty completely. But the rest of the people continued in their ambivalent relationship, observant to a point but not when observance conflicted with their need for private altars. If the Torah were to say, for instance, that prayer was only allowed in the Beis Hamikdash, it would be difficult for most people to comply. Sacrifice in ancient Israel served a similar role. It was the mode of connection to the Almighty. Fully aware that they were in violation of the Torah, they felt compelled nonetheless to maintain private altars.

A leader with the authority and charisma of a Joshua or a Samuel or a David could inspire the people to destroy the private altars. The good kings that ruled Judah during these times, however, did not fit this mold, and the great prophets who brought them the word of God were just voices in the wilderness, not acknowledged leaders of the people.

As time went on, the persistent disregard for Torah observance in Judah eroded the foundations of society. Knowing full well that they were constantly in flagrant violation of the Torah, the people could not reach high levels of morality and spirituality. Inevitably, they became materialistic and self-indulgent. Avarice, bribery, deceit, corruption and exploitation of the disadvantaged became commonplace. The prophets cried out in anguish at the degeneration of society, but to no avail.

Finally, the inevitable happened. In 575 b.c.e., Achaz succeeded Yossam, his father, to the throne and established the Baal cult throughout Judah.[4] The virulent pagan germ which had infected the Davidic dynasty through its matrimonial alliances with the House of Achav in the times of Asa and Yehoshaphat, and which had lain dormant for over a century, now triggered a new outbreak. The need of the people to reach out to God on a regular basis had been fulfilled by their private altars. But as their faith eroded and the Baal cult was popularized, many of them found more satisfaction in the lavish pagan temples with their glamorous performances and celebrations than in their ordinary backyard altars.

Judah, decadent and corrupt, was becoming increasingly vulnerable, and the times were becoming increasingly dangerous and convulsive. The rising Assyrian Empire was the most powerful and ruthless conqueror ever to threaten the region.  The neighboring Kingdom of Israel, even while suffering its final death throes under Pekach ben Remaliah and Hoshea ben Elah, had formed an alliance with Syria and attacked Judah. In the south, Egypt watched the growing Assyrian power with alarm. It seemed likely that the inevitable clash between the rising and declining powers would draw Judah into the conflict.

Times like these call for prudence, temperance and clear vision; good judgment is critical for survival. Thus, even if the people did not have a profound belief in divine providence and the direct relationship between national calamity and national iniquity, surely they knew that a Jewish descent into paganism had historically resulted in military reverses.

Yet just at the moment when the night seemed blackest, a sudden flash of light transformed the Kingdom of Judah and lifted it from the nadir of its existence to one of the highest points in its history. In 561 b.c.e., Achaz died after sixteen years of unmitigated disaster, and his son Chizkiahu ascended to the throne.

Chizkiahu, a righteous and charismatic king in the mold of David and Solomon, managed to overcome the spiritual inertia that had gripped Judah for centuries; according to the Talmud, he was so extraordinary that he almost earned for himself the role of the Messiah.[5] Undoubtedly, his stirring portrayals of the misfortune that had befallen the people in the past because of their iniquity had a powerful effect,[6] but his most effective means of changing the mindset of his subjects was by doing something that had never been done before.

We pray on Shabbos and Yom Tov, “Sanctify us with Your mitzvos and let us have a share in Your Torah.” First come mitzvos and then Torah. On the other hand, we say before Krias Shema, “Enlighten our eyes with Your Torah, and conjoin our hearts with Your mitzvos.” First Torah and then mitzvos. Similarly, we say in the morning blessings, “Accustom us to Your Torah, and conjoin our hearts with Your mitzvos.” And after Shemoneh Esrei, “Open my heart to Your Torah, and let me run after Your mitzvos.” So what is the correct order?

How does God sanctify people with mitzvos? Simply by giving them mitzvos and the opportunity to perform them. This is the prerequisite for learning Torah. People bereft of a connection to the Almighty through His mitzvos have no business learning Torah. However, a person cannot achieve mitzvah performance on an exalted level without first studying the Torah. In order to become conjoined with mitzvos and run after them, we need to be enlightened by the Torah.

Chizkiahu instituted and enforced a program of intense and universal Torah study. No longer could people limit their study to the laws most relevant to the conduct of their lives. No longer was the goal of comprehensive Torah knowledge restricted to Torah scholars and judges. Under this enlightened king, one would have been hard-pressed to find an ignoramus anywhere in the land, and even children had a thorough knowledge of the laws of ritual purity.[7]

As the Jewish people drank deeply of this life-giving elixir which had been in their possession for so many years, a new spirit of vitality and inspiration coursed through their veins. All the idols were destroyed, and for the first time since the days of Solomon, the private altars were also demolished. The Holy Temple was purified, refurbished and rededicated, and the festivals were celebrated with the fierce joy of the new penitent who still shudders with horror at the memory of his recent past.[8] At long last, the people truly “sought God” in their prayer, in their study and in their everyday lives, and the land was illuminated by a great spiritual awakening the likes of which had not taken place for centuries.

Chizkiahu now tried to extend this spiritual awakening to the northern kingdom. He sent messengers to Israel, whose borders Hoshea ben Elah had opened, inviting the people to come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. Perhaps they could still redeem themselves and avert the terrible fate that hung over their heads. But the messengers were greeted for the most part with scorn and derision. Only a small number of people from Asher, Manasseh and Zebulun swallowed their pride and came to Jerusalem. The rest of the people had drifted too far away. Three years later, their country ceased to exist.

True to the pattern of Jewish history, the spiritual revival sparked by Chizkiahu eventually resulted in economic growth and military successes. Judah became more prosperous and secure than it had been at any time since the days of Solomon. But the looming shadow of Assyria grew ever darker and longer with the passage of time. The Assyrians had conquered Babylon and all the rest of Mesopotamia, as well as Syria and Israel. The addition of Judah and Egypt was all the Assyrians needed to gain total control of the Quadrant.

In 546 b.c.e., fourteen years into Chizkiahu’s reign, Sennaherib led an Assyrian army of one hundred and eighty-five thousand men into Judah and laid siege to Jerusalem. The city’s fortifications had been reinforced, and ample supplies of food and water had been stocked, but the prospect of war between the Assyrian colossus and the shrunken Jewish enclave of Judah struck terror into the hearts of the people. The king, however, reassured them that with God on their side they were far stronger than Assyria. Then the king and Yeshayahu prayed together for salvation, and during the night, the Assyrian soldiers encamped around Jerusalem mysteriously died. Sennaherib fled to Nineveh where he was assassinated by his sons while sacrificing to his gods.[9]

The story of the miraculous destruction of Sennaherib’s camp has been confirmed in recent years by archaeological excavations. An Egyptian imitation, reported by Herodotus,[10] claims that it took place at the border of Egypt where field mice overran the Assyrian camp and ate all the leather straps and weapon handles. Modern historians, perplexed by this amazing occurrence, offer explanations ranging from an outbreak of bubonic plague to a pinpoint barrage of meteorites caused by the entry of Mars into the planetary system.[11] But whatever the actual instrument of destruction, it was clearly a supernatural event, similar to the Jewish victory at Jericho in the times of Joshua. God had allowed the Jewish people to stand back while He fought their battle. The people of the Kingdom of Judah were thus spared the fate of their northern cousins. The Assyrian menace receded, and the independence of Judah was not threatened again for another century.

Seven hundred years earlier, the Jewish nation had stood at the foot of Mount Sinai and received the Torah from God. Armed with the spiritual weapons of the Torah, they had gone forth to combat the imaginary god race that dominated the ancient world and proclaim the Kingdom of God. It had been a war of ebb and flow, a war of victories and also defeats.

The remaining warriors now gathered in the tiny Kingdom of Judah, the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, the Kohanim and the Levites, the remnants of the other tribes who had fled to the south. Yet surprisingly, the war was not lost, because victory in a spiritual war does not depend on the number of soldiers but on the intensity of commitment. Under Chizkiahu, the people rediscovered intense commitment; they sought God. For all the suffering of the past, the future glowed with promise and hope.

[1] II Chronicles 21:11.

[2] II Melachim 11:2. According to Rashi, this was actually a garret above the Kodesh Kadashim. According to Radak, this was a room in the sleeping quarters of the Kohanim who were on duty in the Azarah.

[3] II Divrei Hayamim 24:17; Rashi, II Melachim 11:3.

[4] II Chronicles 31:1. However, as Malbim points out (II Kings 21:11), idolatry was not as widespread under Achaz as under his grandson Manasseh.

[5] Sanhedrin 94a

[6] II Chronicles 29:5-11

[7] Sanhedrin 94b

[8] II Chronicles 29:36; Rashi, II Chronicles 30:26

[9] Redak, II Kings 19:37

[10] The Histories, Book Two

[11] I. Velikovsky, Worlds in Collision