The Sterile Tears of Bochim
Introduction: The Great Generational Slide
The book of Judges is a record of a great unraveling. It is the story of what happens when a generation that knew the mighty works of God is replaced by a generation that knows them only as stories. Joshua is dead. The elders who served with him are dead. The generation that crossed the Jordan on dry ground and saw the walls of Jericho fall flat is gone. And now we come to their children, a generation that inherited the promises but had not fought the battles. They inherited the land but not the backbone.
This is a book about the long, slow, downward spiral of compromise. It is a case study in covenantal amnesia. Israel's failure was not, at its root, a military failure or a political failure. It was a theological failure. They forgot who God was, they forgot what He had commanded, and consequently, they forgot who they were supposed to be. They traded the sharp, clear-edged calling of being a holy people for the fuzzy, comfortable blur of cultural assimilation.
The scene before us is a journey between two place names, and in that journey, we see the whole tragedy. The story begins with a messenger coming "from Gilgal," and it ends with the people naming a new place "Bochim." Gilgal was the place of beginnings, the beachhead of the conquest. It was where the reproach of Egypt was rolled away, where the covenant of circumcision was renewed, where they celebrated the first Passover in the land. Gilgal was the place of covenant memory and obedient faith. Bochim, as we will see, means "weepers." Israel's journey from Gilgal to Bochim is a journey from covenant faithfulness to covenant failure, from triumphant marching to pathetic weeping.
This is not just ancient history. This is our story. Every generation, every church, every family, and every individual Christian stands perpetually on the road between Gilgal and Bochim. We are always one generation away from apostasy. The temptation is always to make a soft peace with the world, to lower the standard, to manage the sin we were commanded to mortify. And the Angel of the Lord comes to us today, just as He came to Israel, to confront our compromises and to ask us that devastating question: "what is this you have done?"
The Text
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, 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? 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.' " 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. So they named that place Bochim; and there they sacrificed to Yahweh.
(Judges 2:1-5 LSB)
The Covenant Prosecutor (v. 1-2)
The scene opens with a divine confrontation.
"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...'" (Judges 2:1 LSB)
First, we must identify this messenger. This is no mere created angel delivering a note from on high. Notice that he speaks in the first person as God Himself. "I brought you up... I have sworn... My covenant." This is the Messenger of the Covenant, a pre-incarnate appearance of the second person of the Trinity, the Lord Jesus Christ. The Commander of the Lord's army who appeared to Joshua (Josh. 5:14) now appears to Joshua's failing children. This is not a subordinate; this is the King Himself coming to inspect the troops.
He comes "up from Gilgal," reminding them of their covenant history. He is retracing their steps to show them where they got off the path. He begins by reminding them of His absolute, unilateral faithfulness. "I will never break My covenant with you." God's promise is not the variable in this equation. His faithfulness is the bedrock, the constant against which their unfaithfulness is measured. He kept His end of the bargain. He brought them out of slavery, He gave them the land. The fault, therefore, lies entirely with them.
"...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?" (Judges 2:2 LSB)
Here is their side of the covenant, their stipulated obligation. It was a twofold command of separation. First, social and political separation: "cut no covenant." Do not intermarry. Do not make treaties. Do not learn their ways. Second, religious separation: "tear down their altars." This was a command for total spiritual warfare. You cannot be neutral toward idolatry. You must be iconoclasts. You must smash the infrastructure of paganism. You cannot serve the Lord on your high place if you tolerate a Baal-altar on the next hill over.
The indictment is simple and direct: "But you have not listened to My voice." All sin, at its heart, is a listening problem. And then comes the question that ought to haunt every disobedient heart: "what is this you have done?" It is the voice of a betrayed husband, a grieving father. It is not a request for information. God knows what they have done. It is a call to self-examination. Look at the mess you have made. Look at the glorious inheritance you have squandered for the cheap trinkets of paganism.
The Poisoned Peace (v. 3)
Because they refused to obey, God announces a terrible judgment. And the judgment is a perfect, poetic reversal of the original promise.
"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.'" (Judges 2:3 LSB)
God's judgment here is to give them exactly what they chose. They refused to drive out the Canaanites, so God says, "Fine. I will not drive them out either." He removes His empowering grace and leaves them to the consequences of their own disobedience. They wanted coexistence. They wanted to have their pagan neighbors and Yahweh too. God is going to show them the utter misery of that arrangement.
Their sin will become their punishment. The people they tolerated will become "thorns in your sides." The Hebrew word is more like a goad or a scourge. This is not a minor irritation. It is a constant, painful, festering wound. The Canaanites will be a source of military harassment, political trouble, and moral corruption for centuries. The peace they sought through compromise will turn out to be a perpetual, low-grade war.
And worse, "their gods will become a snare to you." The altars they failed to tear down will become the traps that capture their children. The idolatry they thought they could manage will become the idolatry that consumes them. This is a fundamental spiritual law. You cannot flirt with idolatry and remain immune to it. The idols you tolerate in your land will eventually become the idols you worship in your heart. Compromise does not lead to influence; it leads to infection.
Worldly Sorrow (v. 4-5)
The Angel's words hit their mark, and the people have an emotional reaction. But we must examine this reaction very carefully.
"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. So they named that place Bochim; and there they sacrificed to Yahweh." (Judges 2:4-5 LSB)
On the surface, this looks like revival. There are tears. There is a public acknowledgment of the moment. They even offer sacrifices. But this is not true repentance. This is remorse. This is the sorrow of getting caught. These are the tears of self-pity for the consequences, not the tears of godly grief over the sin itself.
How do we know? Because godly sorrow leads to repentance, which is a change of mind that produces a change of action (2 Cor. 7:10). But their actions do not change. They weep, but they do not go out and tear down the altars. They cry, but they do not break their forbidden covenants. They name the place "Weepers," institutionalizing their grief, but they do not actually do the thing God commanded. They are sorry they are going to be punished, but they are not sorry enough to obey.
And their final act gives them away: "they sacrificed to Yahweh." They try to solve a problem of radical disobedience with a bit of formal religion. They think they can patch up their broken covenant with a ritual. They are treating God like a pagan deity who can be placated with a goat or a bull, while their hearts and lives remain entangled with the world. This is an attempt to buy God off. It is an insult to His holiness. They are trying to substitute liturgy for obedience, and it is a damnable trade.
Conclusion: From Bochim to Calvary
The story of Bochim is a grim and necessary warning for the church in every age. We are constantly tempted to make our own soft peace with the Canaanites in our midst and in our hearts. We are tempted to believe that we can manage our pet sins, that we can tolerate the altars of materialism, sexual immorality, bitterness, or pride, without them becoming thorns and snares to us. Bochim is God's declaration that this is a fool's errand.
The lesson of Bochim is that there is no substitute for radical obedience. Tears are not a substitute. Emotional experiences are not a substitute. Attending church and offering religious sacrifices are not a substitute. God has commanded us to make no covenant with the world and to tear down the idols. The only right response to this command is obedience.
But there is gospel here as well. The Angel of the Lord who came to Bochim to prosecute the covenant is the same Lord Jesus who came to Calvary to fulfill the covenant on our behalf. We are all covenant breakers. We have all listened to other voices. We have all failed to tear down the altars. And the judgment we deserved, He took upon Himself. He had the thorns pressed into His brow so that we could be healed. He entered the snare of death so that we could go free.
Because of Christ, we are no longer weeping at Bochim. We are standing on the firm ground of Gilgal, with the reproach of our sin rolled away forever. And the tears we now cry are not the sterile tears of self-pity, but the cleansing tears of gratitude. The proper response to this grace is not to offer a few cheap sacrifices, but to do what the Israelites failed to do. It is to rise from our weeping, and by the power of His Spirit, to go out and begin tearing down every last altar of rebellion in our hearts, in our homes, and in our land, until Christ is all in all.