Commentary - 2 Chronicles 36:1-4

Bird's-eye view

This brief, almost breathless, account in 2 Chronicles 36 marks the beginning of the end for the kingdom of Judah. We are witnessing the final death throes of a covenant-breaking nation. The events here are not isolated political misfortunes; they are the carefully measured strokes of God's righteous judgment. After the godly king Josiah is killed in a foolish military venture, the people of the land attempt to secure their future by installing their own choice of king, Joahaz. But their choice is irrelevant. The real kingmaker here is not the populace of Judah, but Pharaoh Neco of Egypt, who himself is merely an instrument, a rod of discipline, in the hand of the sovereign God. This passage demonstrates the utter futility of human political maneuvering when God has determined a course of judgment. The rapid succession of kings, the swift foreign intervention, and the imposition of a heavy fine all serve to underscore Judah's complete loss of sovereignty. They are no longer a nation under God, but a vassal state under God's judgment, administered through a pagan king.

The Chronicler's sparse narrative is potent. He is not interested in the geopolitical minutiae for its own sake. He is recording the covenantal collapse. Each verse is another nail in the coffin of the Davidic kingdom in its earthly form, setting the stage for the ultimate exile and, beyond that, the desperate need for a true and better King whose throne cannot be usurped and whose kingdom will have no end.

Outline

Context In 2 Chronicles

This passage immediately follows the tragic death of one of Judah's best kings, Josiah (2 Chronicles 35:20-27). Josiah's reforms had been thorough, but they were ultimately unable to reverse the deep-seated apostasy of the nation. His death at Megiddo at the hands of Pharaoh Neco was a devastating blow, and it serves as the pivot point into the final, irreversible slide into exile. Chapter 36 is a grim catalog of the last four kings of Judah: Joahaz, Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin, and Zedekiah. Their stories are told with a stark and rapid finality. The Chronicler is telescoping the history to make a clear theological point: the exile did not happen by accident. It was the culmination of generations of covenant unfaithfulness, and when God's patience finally gave way to judgment, the end came swiftly and decisively. These four verses set the tone for the entire chapter, demonstrating that Judah's fate is no longer in its own hands.

Key Issues

The Unraveling

What we are reading here is the sound of a kingdom unraveling. The death of Josiah was the pulling of the last thread that was holding the fabric of the nation together. What follows is not a series of unfortunate political events, but the outworking of a divine verdict. The people of the land try to patch things up. They do what people always do when they feel control slipping away: they hold a meeting and take a vote. They anoint a king. They go through the motions of self-determination. But it is all a charade. Their vote is meaningless because a higher authority has already cast His ballot. God had determined judgment, and He would use the king of Egypt to execute the preliminary stages of that judgment.

This is a crucial lesson in how God governs the world. He does not just operate in the religious sphere, through prophets and priests. He is the Lord of history, the king over all kings. Pharaoh Neco, a pagan ruler concerned with his own power and prestige, becomes an unwitting servant of Yahweh's purposes. He thinks he is securing his northern border and extending his sphere of influence, but he is actually acting as God's bailiff, deposing a king God had not approved and imposing a fine that was a token of the covenant lawsuit's penalty. The whole affair is a stark illustration of Proverbs 21:1: "The king's heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will."

Verse by Verse Commentary

1 Then the people of the land took Joahaz the son of Josiah, and made him king in place of his father in Jerusalem.

In the wake of the disaster at Megiddo, the people act. The phrase "the people of the land" refers to the leading citizens, the men of substance in Judah. They are attempting to manage the crisis and ensure a stable succession. Their choice, Joahaz, was a younger son of Josiah, but apparently favored by this faction, perhaps for his political leanings. They perform all the proper rituals; they "made him king." This is an assertion of national sovereignty. It is a declaration that, despite the death of their king, they are still in charge of their own destiny. But it is a hollow assertion. Their action is a tragic display of political theater, because the real Director of this drama is offstage, and He has already written a different script.

2 Joahaz was twenty-three years old when he became king, and he reigned three months in Jerusalem.

The Chronicler includes the king's age and the length of his reign, standard practice in these records. But the brevity of the reign is the theological punchline. Three months. All the ceremony, all the political calculation, all the hopes of the "people of the land" came to nothing in just ninety days. This is not a reign; it is a historical footnote. It demonstrates the complete impotence of Judah's political will. They could put a crown on a man's head, but they could not keep it there for even one season. The shortness of the reign is God's commentary on their choice. It was unauthorized, and therefore it was temporary.

3 Then the king of Egypt had him removed in Jerusalem and imposed on the land a fine of one hundred talents of silver and one talent of gold.

Enter the true power broker, from a human perspective. Pharaoh Neco, having dealt with Josiah, now deals with his upstart son. Neco did not approve of Joahaz, likely because Joahaz represented a faction that was resistant to Egyptian dominance. So he simply "had him removed." The language is stark. There is no record of a battle or a struggle. Neco deposes him with casual authority. Judah is now a client state. To formalize this new reality, Neco imposes a fine. This is not just about money; it is about submission. The fine, a massive sum, is a tribute, an admission of vassalage. Judah must now pay for the privilege of its own subjugation. This is the price of covenant unfaithfulness.

4 Then the king of Egypt made Eliakim his brother king over Judah and Jerusalem, and changed his name to Jehoiakim. But Neco took Joahaz his brother and brought him to Egypt.

Neco's authority is absolute. He not only deposes one king, he installs another. He chooses Eliakim, Joahaz's older brother, who was clearly more amenable to being an Egyptian puppet. And to make the point unmistakably clear, Neco changes his name. Changing a person's name is the ultimate act of ownership and authority. When God entered into covenant with Abram, He changed his name to Abraham. When the Babylonian king conquered Judah, he would change the names of the royal youths like Daniel. Here, a pagan king exercises this covenantal prerogative over the son of David. Eliakim, "God will establish," is renamed Jehoiakim, "Yahweh will establish." The irony is thick and bitter. Neco is essentially saying, "Your God may have established you, but I am the one who will establish your reign." Meanwhile, the people's choice, Joahaz, is carried off to Egypt to die in exile, the first of the last kings to be dragged from the land in chains. The precedent is set for the greater exile to come.

Application

This little snapshot of political failure from over two and a half millennia ago carries a sharp warning for the church today. The first is a warning against placing our ultimate trust in political solutions or popular movements. The "people of the land" had a plan. They chose their man. And it amounted to absolutely nothing because it ran contrary to the declared will of God. We are often tempted to believe that if we can just get the right people elected, or organize the right grassroots movement, we can secure our future. But our security is not in the will of the people, but in the will of God. When a people is under divine judgment, no amount of political shuffling of the deck chairs will save the sinking ship.

Secondly, this passage reminds us that God is sovereign over the nations, even the pagan ones. We can become distressed when we see ungodly rulers exercising great power, but we must remember that they hold that power only by God's decree. God used a pagan Pharaoh to discipline His own people. He can and does use godless leaders today to achieve His purposes, whether for judgment or for blessing. Our task is not to despair over who sits in the White House or in the halls of Parliament, but to be faithful to the one who sits on the throne of Heaven.

Finally, the failure of these last earthly kings of Judah should drive us to the feet of our true King, Jesus Christ. Joahaz reigned for three months before being carted off to Egypt. Jesus, after being lifted up on a cross, was raised from the dead and seated at the right hand of the Majesty on High. His kingdom is not a flimsy, three-month affair, subject to the whims of foreign potentates. It is an eternal kingdom, and His throne is forever. The story of Judah's collapse is the story of every human attempt at self-rule. It is a story of failure, judgment, and exile. But it is the dark backdrop against which the glorious good news of the Kingdom of God shines all the more brightly.