Commentary - Judges 2:1-5

Bird's-eye view

The book of Judges chronicles a dismal, repeating cycle in the life of Israel: sin, oppression, repentance, and deliverance. This short passage at the beginning of chapter two sets the stage for the entire era. It provides the divine commentary on why the conquest of Canaan stalled and why Israel was about to enter a long, dark period of spiritual chaos. The generation that had fought with Joshua was gone, and a new generation arose that did not know Yahweh or His works. Their failure was not primarily military, but spiritual. It was a failure of covenant faithfulness, a failure to obey the clear command of God to drive out the inhabitants of the land and to destroy their altars. This passage is a divine rebuke, delivered by a heavenly messenger, that explains the consequences of their disobedience. The weeping of the people at the end gives the place its name, Bochim, but as the rest of the book demonstrates, these were tears of remorse, not true repentance.

This is the fundamental pattern of sin. We compromise, we disobey, we think we can manage a little bit of idolatry on the side, and then we are surprised when the thorns we cultivated begin to pierce us. The grace of God is found in the rebuke itself. God did not abandon His people to their sin without a word. He sent a messenger to call them to account, to remind them of His faithfulness and their unfaithfulness. The entire book of Judges, with all its sordid tales, is a testament to the fact that God is extraordinarily merciful to people who manifestly do not deserve it.

Outline

Context In Judges

Judges 2:1-5 serves as a theological hinge for the entire book. Chapter 1 details the incomplete conquest of the land, tribe by tribe. It is a mixed report card, full of "but they did not drive out..." This second chapter provides the divine explanation for that failure. It is not that God was unable to give them victory, but that Israel was unwilling to obey. This passage introduces the recurring cycle that will define the era of the judges: Israel does evil, God hands them over to their enemies, they cry out for help, and God raises up a deliverer (Judges 2:11-19). This confrontation at Bochim is the formal announcement of this new phase in Israel's history. The victories of Joshua are over. The period of compromise and its bitter fruit has begun.

Key Issues

The Angel of Yahweh

Who is this "angel of Yahweh?" The Old Testament is replete with appearances of this figure, and he is no ordinary angel. He speaks with divine authority, in the first person: "I brought you up out of Egypt... I will never break My covenant." (v. 1). When Manoah, Samson's father, asks this same Angel for his name, the Angel replies, "Why do you ask my name, seeing it is wonderful?" (Judges 13:18). This is the language of deity. This is why many theologians, and rightly so, have seen the Angel of Yahweh as a pre-incarnate appearance of the Son of God, the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. He is the Messenger of the Covenant. It is Christ who led Israel out of Egypt, and it is Christ who now comes to confront them in their sin. He comes up from Gilgal, the place of the first encampment and covenant renewal in the land, to Bochim, the place of weeping and failure. This is a journey from the place of remembered victory to the place of present disobedience. It is a solemn moment. The commander of the Lord's army is inspecting His troops, and He finds them fraternizing with the enemy.

Commentary

1 Then the angel of Yahweh came up from Gilgal to Bochim. And he said, “I brought you up out of Egypt and led you into the land which I have sworn to your fathers; and I said, ‘I will never break My covenant with you,

The scene opens with a journey. The Angel of Yahweh, who is the Lord Himself, moves from Gilgal to Bochim. This is not just geography; it is theology. Gilgal was the base of operations for the conquest under Joshua. It was the place where the reproach of Egypt was "rolled away," where the covenant was renewed through circumcision (Josh. 5). It was a place of beginnings, of victory, of faithfulness. But now the Angel leaves that place and comes to Bochim, which means "weepers." He moves from the memorial of victory to the scene of failure. He comes to them right where they are, in the middle of their compromise. And His first words are a reminder of His steadfastness. He speaks in the first person: "I brought you up... I led you... I have sworn... I said... I will never break." The foundation of all our dealings with God is not our faithfulness, but His. He is the great covenant keeper. He reminds them of the Exodus, the central redemptive act of the Old Testament. He reminds them of the patriarchal promise, the oath He swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He reminds them of His unilateral declaration: "I will never break My covenant with you." God's side of the ledger is secure. The problem, as always, is not with Him.

2 and as for you, you shall cut no covenant with the inhabitants of this land; you shall tear down their altars.’ But you have not listened to My voice; what is this you have done?

After establishing His own faithfulness, the Lord turns to their responsibility. The covenant has two sides. His promise is unbreakable, but their enjoyment of the blessings of that covenant is conditioned on their obedience. The command was simple and stark. First, a negative prohibition: make no treaties, no alliances, no peace with the pagan inhabitants. Second, a positive command: tear down their altars. This was a call for absolute separation and uncompromising hostility toward idolatry. You cannot serve two masters. You cannot have Yahweh's altar and Baal's altar on the same hill. One must go down for the other to stand. But Israel failed on both counts. They made treaties, they intermarried, and they left the altars standing. They thought they could manage the sin, domesticate the idolatry. They wanted the blessings of Yahweh while keeping the cultural artifacts of the Canaanites. And the Lord's response is a grieved, almost incredulous question: "But you have not listened to My voice; what is this you have done?" This is the voice of a betrayed husband, a spurned father. He had given them everything, and they had listened to the siren song of the world. This is the essence of all sin, to listen to another voice instead of God's.

3 Therefore I also said, ‘I will not drive them out before you; but they will become as thorns in your sides, and their gods will become a snare to you.’ ”

Here are the consequences. Because they would not drive out the Canaanites, God would not drive them out either. The judgment fits the crime perfectly. The thing they tolerated would become the thing that tormented them. God turns their sin into their punishment. They wanted the Canaanites as neighbors and allies; God says, "Fine, you can have them." But they will not be friendly neighbors. They will be thorns in your sides. A thorn is a constant irritant, a source of festering pain, a reminder of a wound that will not heal. This is precisely what the remaining pagan nations became to Israel throughout the period of the Judges and beyond. And more than that, their gods would become a snare. A snare is a trap. It looks harmless, but it is designed to catch and kill. The idols they refused to smash would become the very things that captured their hearts and led them into spiritual adultery and, ultimately, exile. This is a permanent principle. The sin you refuse to mortify will become a thorn and a snare to you. The compromise you make with the world will eventually rise up to enslave you.

4 So it happened that when the angel of Yahweh spoke these words to all the sons of Israel, the people lifted up their voices and wept.

The word of the Lord hits its mark. The people hear this indictment and this sentence, and they erupt in a chorus of weeping. On the surface, this looks like repentance. They are sorrowful. They are grieved. Their sin has been exposed, and the consequences laid bare, and they weep. And we should not discount this entirely. It is better to weep over your sin than to brazenly celebrate it. There is a place for godly sorrow. But the rest of the book of Judges serves as a sad commentary on this moment. Their tears were real, but their repentance was shallow. They were sorry they got caught. They were sorry for the consequences. But they were not sorry enough to go out and do what God had commanded from the beginning: tear down the altars.

5 So they named that place Bochim; and there they sacrificed to Yahweh.

They commemorate their sorrow by naming the place Bochim, "the weepers." They even offer sacrifices to Yahweh. This is all very religious. They have a worship service right there on the spot. But it is a worship disconnected from obedience. They weep, they name the place, they sacrifice, but they do not change. They do not go back to their towns and villages and begin the hard work of rooting out the idolatry they had tolerated. This is the picture of emotional, sentimental religion that is divorced from the hard-edged demands of discipleship. They wanted to feel better, but they did not want to obey. And so, Bochim stands as a monument not to true repentance, but to the kind of sorrow that leads only to more sin. The cycle is now set. They will sin, they will suffer, they will cry, God in His mercy will send a deliverer, and then as soon as he is dead, they will go right back to the very sins they were weeping over here.

Application

The message of Bochim is a perennial one for the church. We live in an age of rampant compromise, an age that despises the call for separation from the world. We are constantly tempted to make covenants with the inhabitants of the land, to adopt their ways of thinking, their forms of entertainment, their political idolatries. We are told that tearing down altars is intolerant, unloving, and extreme.

But the word of the Lord to us is the same. His covenant faithfulness is our only foundation. He has brought us out of a greater Egypt through a greater Exodus. But our enjoyment of our inheritance is tied to our obedience. We are commanded to make no peace with the world's idols and to tear down the altars of Baal and Asherah in our own hearts, in our homes, and in our culture.

When we fail, the sins we tolerate will become thorns in our sides and a snare to our souls. The worldly philosophy we think we can manage will end up managing us. The little compromises will grow into big bondages. And when God confronts us, as He does here, the call is not simply for tears. It is not enough to feel bad. It is not enough to have an emotional worship service. The call is for repentance, which means turning around and doing the thing we failed to do in the first place. It means taking up the crowbar and going after the idols. True repentance weeps, yes, but then it gets to work.