Commentary - Judges 19:16-21

Bird's-eye view

The book of Judges closes with this horrific account, and the refrain that frames it all is that "in those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes." This is not a political lament for a monarchy in the first instance, but rather a spiritual one. The true king, Yahweh, had been rejected, and the result was not glorious individual liberty, but rather a race to the bottom of the moral sewer. This passage in chapter 19 gives us a brief flicker of light in the encroaching darkness. It shows us that even in the worst of times, remnants of covenant faithfulness can be found. Here we have a story of hospitality, a fundamental covenant virtue, practiced by a sojourner in a city that has become a new Sodom. This act of kindness stands in stark relief against the backdrop of a nation's utter decay, reminding us that the line between good and evil runs not between tribes or nations, but through the heart of every man, and in this case, through the heart of a city.

The scene is tense. A Levite, his concubine, and his servant are stranded in a city square as night falls, a terrifying prospect in a lawless land. No one from the native tribe of Benjamin will take them in. The covenant obligations of brotherhood and hospitality have evaporated. But then, an old man, himself an outsider, shows up. His simple, decent piety is a throwback to a better time, a time when Israel remembered her God. He provides a safe harbor, a small island of righteousness in a sea of depravity. This passage, then, sets the stage for the terrible events that follow by first establishing what is right and good, making the subsequent evil all the more appalling.

Outline

Context In Judges

This passage is part of the book's appendix, which details two examples of the extreme moral and spiritual chaos in Israel before the monarchy. The first story concerns idolatry (Judges 17-18), and this second one concerns a level of moral depravity that rivals Sodom and Gomorrah. The repeated phrase, "In those days there was no king in Israel," tells us the theological diagnosis of the problem. When men reject God as their king, they do not become free; they become slaves to their vilest passions. This narrative serves as a case study in what happens when a people forsakes their covenant with God. The basic duties of kinship, law, and hospitality, the very fabric of a healthy society, have come completely unraveled. The tribe of Benjamin, in this instance, is behaving like a pack of pagans, and it will lead to a brutal civil war that nearly annihilates them.

Key Issues

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 16 But behold, an old man was coming from his work, from the field, at evening. Now the man was from the hill country of Ephraim, and he was sojourning in Gibeah, but the men of the place were Benjamites.

Right away, the narrator sets up a crucial contrast. The light appears just as the day is ending. An "old man," a figure who should command respect and embody wisdom, comes in from his "work." This is a man of industry and routine, a picture of normalcy and diligence in a world gone mad. He is returning from the field at evening, the proper time for a laborer to cease his toil. This detail grounds him in the created order of work and rest that God established. He is not an idler, not a man of the night. Then we are told he is an Ephraimite, a sojourner, an outsider. The native "men of the place were Benjamites." This is key. The one man who will do the right thing is not even from there. The covenant insiders, the Benjamites, are the ones who have abandoned the covenant. It is the resident alien who remembers the ways of God. This is a recurring theme in Scripture: faithfulness is sometimes found in the most unexpected places, while those who should know better are apostate.

v. 17 And he lifted up his eyes and saw the traveler in the open square of the city; and the old man said, “Where are you going, and where do you come from?”

He "lifted up his eyes and saw." This is not a passive glance. He is observant. He sees a problem that the entire city had ignored. A traveler with his party stranded in the open square at nightfall was a glaring violation of the ancient laws of hospitality. His question is direct and practical, the kind of question a man who intends to help asks. He is not simply making conversation; he is gathering information to solve a problem. This is what basic righteousness looks like. It sees a need and it moves toward it, while the wicked avert their eyes and walk on by. The entire city of Gibeah had seen this family and done nothing. This one man sees, and he acts.

v. 18 And he said to him, “We are passing from Bethlehem in Judah to the remote part of the hill country of Ephraim. I am from there, and I went to Bethlehem in Judah. But I am now going to the house of Yahweh, and no man is taking me into his house.”

The Levite's answer reveals the depth of the problem. He explains his itinerary, establishing that he is a fellow Israelite, from Ephraim no less, just like the old man. He is on legitimate business. More than that, he says he is going "to the house of Yahweh." This could refer to Shiloh, where the tabernacle was. He is a Levite, a minister of the Lord, on his way to the place of worship. And yet, "no man is taking me into his house." This is a shocking indictment. A minister of God, a kinsman, is being treated like an enemy in a city of his own people. The rejection is not just a social snub; it is a rejection of Yahweh, whom the Levite serves. When God's servants are dishonored, God is dishonored.

v. 19 Yet there is both straw and fodder for our donkeys, and also bread and wine for me, your maidservant, and the young man who is with your servants; there is no lack of anything.”

The Levite makes it clear that he is not asking for a handout. He is fully provisioned. He has straw for the animals, bread and wine for the people. He is not a burden. This removes any possible excuse the Benjamites might have had for refusing him. They could not claim he was a drain on their resources. His statement "there is no lack of anything" is poignant. He lacks only one thing: a roof. A place of safety. The one thing a community is supposed to provide to a brother, he cannot find. This highlights that the failure of Gibeah was not economic, but moral. It was a failure of love, a failure of duty, a failure of basic human decency rooted in the fear of God.

v. 20 Then the old man said, “Peace be to you. Only let me take care of all that you lack; however, do not spend the night in the open square.”

The old man's response is the epitome of godly hospitality. He begins with "Peace be to you," the traditional greeting of shalom. He is offering not just shelter, but wholeness, safety, and well being. He immediately takes responsibility: "let me take care of all that you lack." He rightly identifies that despite the Levite's provisions, he does indeed have a lack, and the old man will supply it. He insists, "do not spend the night in the open square." He understands the danger. He knows what his city has become. This is not just kindness; it is a protective, urgent command. He is stepping into the gap, placing himself between the traveler and the dangers of the city. This is what true headship and masculine piety does. It protects the vulnerable.

v. 21 So he brought him into his house and gave the donkeys fodder, and they washed their feet and ate and drank.

Action follows words. The man's faith is not dead; it works. He brings them into his house, fulfilling his promise. He provides for the animals first, showing a tender regard for all of God's creation and a thoroughness in his care. Then, the travelers "washed their feet and ate and drank." Washing the feet was a fundamental act of refreshment and welcome for a weary traveler in that dusty land. Sharing a meal was the seal of fellowship and peace. In the simple actions of this one sojourner, we see a beautiful picture of covenant life. He provides protection, provision, and fellowship. He is a microcosm of what all of Israel was supposed to be, a stark and shining contrast to the darkness that is about to descend.

Application

This passage is a powerful reminder that piety is profoundly practical. It is not about abstract feelings but about concrete actions. The old man did not just feel bad for the Levite; he took him home. In our day, as in the days of the Judges, our society is fragmenting because we have forgotten the simple, practical duties of covenant life. Hospitality is not just about entertaining friends; it is a spiritual discipline, a weapon against the isolation and anonymity that plagues our world. We are called to open our homes, to see the stranger, the sojourner, the brother in need, and to act.

Secondly, we see that faithfulness can be lonely. This old man was, it seems, the only righteous man in town. He stood against the wicked current of his entire community. We too may find ourselves as sojourners in a hostile culture, even within a compromised church. The call is not to blend in, but to maintain the standards of God's Word, even if we are the only ones doing so. This man's simple act of obedience was a testimony against the wickedness of Gibeah. Our simple acts of faithfulness, hospitality, honesty, hard work, are a testimony against the darkness of our age.

Finally, this story prepares us for the gospel. The utter failure of Israel under the old covenant, their inability to keep even the most basic laws of decency, shows us our desperate need for a true King. We are all stranded in the public square of our sin, with night falling, and no one will take us in. But Christ, our great host, does not leave us there. He sees us, He comes to us, and He says "Peace be to you." He brings us into His Father's house, washes us clean, and invites us to eat and drink at His table. He supplies all our lack, not because we are provisioned, but because we are utterly destitute. The flicker of light in this old man from Ephraim points us to the true and lasting Light of the World.