The Folly of Trusting Snakes Text: Jeremiah 40:13-16
Introduction: The Virtue of Suspicion
We live in an age that has confused niceness with goodness and gullibility with faith. Our modern evangelical sensibilities often recoil at the hard-headed realism that Scripture demands of us. We want our leaders to be gentle, winsome, and above all, trusting. We have elevated a soft, sentimental naivete to the level of a Christian virtue, when in fact the Bible teaches it to be a culpable and dangerous vice. We are told to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, but we have majored in the dove department to the point of criminal negligence.
The world is not a safe place. It is a battlefield. After the fall, the ground was cursed to bring forth thorns and thistles, and this applies not only to agriculture but to politics. The political landscape is filled with thorns, thistles, and snakes. A leader who refuses to see this, who insists on believing the best about sworn enemies despite all evidence, is not a man of great faith. He is a fool. And his foolishness does not just endanger himself; it endangers everyone under his charge. He becomes a covenantal liability, a shepherd who invites the wolves into the fold because he cannot bring himself to believe that wolves exist.
This is the grim situation we find in the ruins of Judah. The kingdom has been shattered. Jerusalem is a smoking heap. The Babylonians, in a surprising act of political pragmatism, have appointed a governor named Gedaliah to oversee the remnant left in the land. There is a flicker of hope. Refugees are returning. The fields are being harvested. It seems a fragile peace might just take root. But into this precarious situation walks a man with a dagger, sent by a rival king. And the man in charge, the man responsible for protecting this last, bruised remnant of God's people, refuses to believe the danger is real. He has a sentimental attachment to his own optimistic assessment, and he will sacrifice his people on the altar of that sentimentality.
This passage is a stark lesson in political realism. It teaches us that naivete is not a virtue. It teaches us that a leader's first responsibility is to see the world as it is, not as he wishes it were. To refuse to see evil, to refuse to believe a credible warning, is not faith. It is a dereliction of duty with catastrophic consequences.
The Text
Now Johanan the son of Kareah and all the commanders of the military forces that were in the field came to Gedaliah at Mizpah and said to him, “Do you indeed know that Baalis the king of the sons of Ammon has sent Ishmael the son of Nethaniah to strike down your life?” But Gedaliah the son of Ahikam did not believe them. Then Johanan the son of Kareah spoke secretly to Gedaliah in Mizpah, saying, “Let me go and strike down Ishmael the son of Nethaniah, and not a man will know! Why should he strike down your life, so that all the Jews who are gathered to you would be scattered and the remnant of Judah would perish?” But Gedaliah the son of Ahikam said to Johanan the son of Kareah, “Do not do this thing, for you are telling a lie about Ishmael.”
(Jeremiah 40:13-16 LSB)
A Credible Warning (v. 13-14a)
We begin with the arrival of the men who still have their wits about them.
"Now Johanan the son of Kareah and all the commanders of the military forces that were in the field came to Gedaliah at Mizpah and said to him, 'Do you indeed know that Baalis the king of the sons of Ammon has sent Ishmael the son of Nethaniah to strike down your life?'" (Jeremiah 40:13-14a LSB)
Johanan and the other commanders are not palace bureaucrats. These are military men, men who had been leading forces in the field. They are realists. They have survived the Babylonian invasion by being shrewd, not by being sentimental. They understand geopolitics. They know that the king of Ammon, Baalis, was an enemy of Judah who had recently been allied with Zedekiah against Babylon. With Judah now a Babylonian protectorate under Gedaliah, it is entirely predictable that Baalis would want to destabilize the region. He wants to create chaos. And he has found his instrument in Ishmael, a man of royal blood who likely resents Gedaliah, a commoner, being appointed governor.
The warning they bring is not vague rumor. It is specific intelligence. They name the foreign backer: Baalis, king of Ammon. They name the assassin: Ishmael, son of Nethaniah. They name the objective: "to strike down your life." This is not gossip; it is a threat assessment. These men are doing their duty. They are loyal to the new administration and are bringing a credible, specific, and deadly serious warning to their governor. They are acting as the eyes and ears of the remnant, practicing the wisdom that says, "The prudent sees danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it" (Proverbs 22:3).
Notice the directness of their question: "Do you indeed know...?" This implies that the information might already be circulating. They are coming to him to confirm that he is aware of the plot and to see what he intends to do about it. They are expecting their leader to act like a leader, to take the threat seriously and to formulate a plan. They are expecting him to be a shepherd, not a sheep.
The Sentimental Refusal (v. 14b)
Gedaliah's response is the pivot upon which the entire tragedy turns. It is a masterclass in foolishness.
"But Gedaliah the son of Ahikam did not believe them." (Jeremiah 40:14b LSB)
Here is the fatal flaw. It is not a lack of information, but a refusal to believe it. Why? The text doesn't give us a detailed psychological profile, but his actions speak volumes. Gedaliah is a good-hearted man, an optimist, a man who wants to believe the best of everyone. He has welcomed all the scattered people back, including Ishmael himself (Jer. 40:8, 11-12). He has sworn an oath to them that they will be safe. His entire project is built on trust and reconciliation. To believe Johanan's report would be to admit that his project is fragile, that there is a snake in his new garden, that his good intentions are not enough to ward off evil.
Gedaliah has become a sentimentalist. He has confused his hopes for how the world ought to be with the reality of how the world is. He wants to believe in Ishmael's good character, and so he does, against all evidence. This is not faith. Faith is trusting in the character and promises of God. Gullibility is trusting in the imagined good character of wicked men. Gedaliah's trust is not in God; it is in Ishmael. He has placed his faith in the wrong object. He has chosen to believe a lie because the truth is too inconvenient. It would require him to make hard decisions, to become suspicious, to perhaps take violent, preemptive action. And the "nice" man, the sentimentalist, shrinks from such unpleasantness.
Naivete is not a Christian virtue. It is a form of worldliness. It is a refusal to take sin seriously. A man who will not believe in the treachery of other men has a low view of the fall. He is, in a very real sense, a practical Pelagian. He thinks people are basically good, and that a little kindness will smooth over any rough edges. Gedaliah is a picture of every liberal politician who thinks you can negotiate with terrorists, every soft pastor who thinks you can counsel a wolf into becoming a sheep, every well-meaning Christian who thinks a pleasant smile is a defense against a drawn knife.
A Pragmatic Solution (v. 15)
Johanan, seeing that his public warning has been rebuffed, tries a different approach. He understands the stakes and offers a clandestine, practical solution.
"Then Johanan the son of Kareah spoke secretly to Gedaliah in Mizpah, saying, 'Let me go and strike down Ishmael the son of Nethaniah, and not a man will know! Why should he strike down your life, so that all the Jews who are gathered to you would be scattered and the remnant of Judah would perish?'" (Jeremiah 40:15 LSB)
Johanan is a man who deals in realities. He sees the public denial for what it is: weakness. So he offers to solve the problem quietly. "Let me go... and not a man will know." This is not an offer of wanton murder. This is an act of statecraft. It is a recognition that sometimes, in a fallen world, the preservation of the commonwealth requires the swift and secret removal of a clear and present danger. This is the world of spies and special operations, a world that makes sentimentalists uncomfortable but which is often necessary for survival.
Johanan's reasoning is impeccably clear and covenantal. He lays out the consequences of inaction. First, Gedaliah's own life is at stake. Second, and more importantly, the entire community is at risk: "so that all the Jews who are gathered to you would be scattered." And third, the ultimate catastrophe: "the remnant of Judah would perish." Johanan understands that Gedaliah is not just a private individual. He is the governor. His life is the linchpin holding this fragile community together. His death will mean the death of the whole enterprise. Johanan is pleading with his leader to fulfill his primary duty, which is to protect the people entrusted to his care. He is asking him to be the "minister of God... who does not bear the sword in vain" (Rom. 13:4).
The Final Folly (v. 16)
Gedaliah's final response seals his own fate and the fate of the remnant. He doubles down on his foolishness.
"But Gedaliah the son of Ahikam said to Johanan the son of Kareah, 'Do not do this thing, for you are telling a lie about Ishmael.'" (Jeremiah 40:16 LSB)
This is more than just unbelief; it is a moral inversion. Gedaliah not only rejects the wise counsel, he accuses the loyal counselor of being a liar. He defends the character of the traitor and impugns the character of the faithful man. "You are telling a lie about Ishmael." He has made his choice. His loyalty is not to the facts, not to his people's safety, but to his own sentimental assessment of a wicked man. He would rather believe that his loyal commander is a slanderer than believe his chosen friend is a conspirator.
This is the dead end of all sentimentalism. It cannot distinguish friends from enemies. In fact, it almost always gets it backwards. The man who speaks the hard truth is seen as divisive and unloving. The man who smiles while sharpening his knife is seen as misunderstood. Gedaliah forbids the one action that could save them. "Do not do this thing." He is like King Rehoboam, who rejected the wise counsel of the old men who had served his father and listened to the foolish, testosterone-fueled advice of his young friends, and in so doing, tore the kingdom in two (1 Kings 12). Gedaliah's folly is of a different flavor, it is soft and trusting rather than harsh and arrogant, but it is just as deadly. Both men refused to listen to wise counsel, and the result was the destruction of the people they were supposed to protect.
Conclusion: The Cost of Naivete
We know what happens next. Ishmael comes to Mizpah, sits at Gedaliah's table, eats his food, and then rises up and murders him and everyone with him. He then proceeds to slaughter a group of pilgrims and takes the rest of the people captive. Johanan's grim prophecy comes true in every particular. The remnant is scattered, and in their fear, they flee to Egypt against God's explicit command, dragging Jeremiah with them, thus sealing their doom. All of this carnage, all of this covenantal disaster, flows directly from one man's refusal to believe a credible warning. It all flows from the fact that Gedaliah was a nice man instead of a good one.
The lesson for us is sharp and pointed. In our personal lives, in our churches, and in our politics, we must put away the childish and dangerous sin of sentimentalism. We must pray for discernment, which is the ability to distinguish truth from error, friend from foe. A leader's job is not to think the best of everyone. A leader's job is to protect his people, and that requires a robust and biblical doctrine of sin. It requires understanding that there are wicked men in the world who want to kill, steal, and destroy.
To trust a known traitor is not faith; it is foolishness. To call a loyal watchman a liar is not kindness; it is a profound injustice. Gedaliah's great sin was that he wanted peace so badly that he refused to prepare for war. He wanted to believe in man so badly that he disobeyed the fundamental principles of wisdom given by God.
Our trust is not to be in the good intentions of Ishmael, or the king of Ammon, or the talking heads on the news. Our trust is to be in the living God, who has told us the truth about the world. He has told us that it is filled with sin and treachery. But He has also told us that He has overcome the world. Our ultimate security is not in a preemptive strike or in a governor's discernment, but in the finished work of Jesus Christ. He is the truly wise King who was not naive about the evil in men's hearts. He knew what was in man. He faced the ultimate betrayal, not with sentimental denial, but with sovereign purpose. And He went to the cross to disarm the principalities and powers, triumphing over them in it. He is the King who will gather His remnant, not to be scattered again, but to dwell safely in His kingdom forever. Therefore, let us be as wise as serpents, but let our ultimate rest be in the one who crushed the serpent's head.