The Israelites planned that when the fathers or brothers of the young women came to complain, they would say that they had not taken wives for each man of Benjamin in battle, and that the families had not given them, so no guilt attached (a paraphrase of Judges 21:22).

The Israelites told the men of Benjamin to seize wives during the celebration at Shiloh, because if the women were "taken" this way, it could not be said that they were "given" to them. So they found no problem with violating the spirit of their oath as long as they kept its letter. But were they even keeping the letter, since they encouraged the Benjaminites to do this and then sought the families' acceptance afterward?

Like Jephthah's oath, the Israelites' oath was a foolish one. This too feeds into the book's closing commentary: "Everyone did what was right in his own eyes" (Judges 21:25).

Friends, we fault public figures for being disingenuous when they parse words to avoid admitting wrongdoing. And rightly so.

Our generation has become expert at parsing and twisting words so that sinful acts appear justified. Terms get redefined, so that what Scripture calls sin is renamed as something neutral or even admirable. And even when we cannot change the character of a wrong to make it look right, we appeal to circumstances and upbringing to free ourselves from guilt. When a father abuses his child, attention is drawn to his own neglect as a child. When terrorists kill, some argue that such people simply want to be heard.

Like Micah with his idols, like the Danites, like the man with his concubine, like the men of Gibeah, like these misguided Israelites, each in turn had a twisted morality and a distorted view of God's Law.

Today we are in danger of the same thing. Fewer and fewer people know God's Word. Even Christians are too dependent on pastors and teachers to tell them what Scripture says and means. People do not know the Bible for themselves.

The crisis in Israel was not sudden but was present from the beginning, for we read that after that whole generation was gathered to their fathers, another generation arose "who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel" (Judges 2:10).

This was the beginning of the end for Israel, apart from God's intervention through the judges and particularly through the last judge, Samuel.

Friends, unless we develop a lifestyle of learning the Bible for ourselves and encourage our children and others to do the same, we may find ourselves just one generation away from the ignorance that leads to a Judges-like decline.

Today there are major debates about the redefinition of marriage. It is not enough, in my view, that Christians are asked to tolerate what they believe Scripture calls sin; they are increasingly pressed to affirm it. The desire for moral purity is now sometimes labeled bigotry. Officials who care more for popular acceptance than for what I believe is truth support such changes in our society. The acceptance of homosexual practice is described as progressive when I believe it is actually a return to something very old, reaching back to Sodom and Gomorrah, which God finally judged when their immorality and violence reached a tipping point.

The answer is the same as it has always been. People need to know the Word of God. It is the Word of God that provides the clarity and perspective for Christians to navigate the murky waters of worldly philosophy and moral ambivalence.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Judges 19–21 is the darkest section of the Old Testament's historical books, and the final chapter's solution is as troubling as the problem. Having sworn not to give their daughters to Benjamin, the Israelites destroyed Jabesh-gilead to obtain 400 young women (21:10–12) and then arranged the seizure of more at Shiloh. Every step is legally clever and morally appalling. The narrator offers no approval — he simply ends with the refrain, "In those days there was no king in Israel," and everyone did what was right in his own eyes (21:25). The book's whole point is that Israel needed a king, and ultimately the King.

On the comment's application, the danger of keeping the letter of an oath while violating its spirit is one Jesus addressed directly. He condemned the practice of swearing by things other than God to create loopholes, and He told the Pharisees, "Let what you say be simply 'Yes' or 'No'" (Matthew 5:33–37; 23:16–22). On questions of sexuality and public policy, Christians today hold a range of views and differ over how believers should engage in public debate; the comment's position is the traditional one held by most churches through history. Its central counsel — that believers know Scripture personally rather than depending entirely on others — is something all traditions affirm.

"In those days, when there was no king in Israel" (Judges 19:1) ... "In those days there was no king in Israel"; everyone did what was right in his own eyes (Judges 21:25).

Between these verses we see a crime, a war, and mercy. God's provisions for life are kept — provisions of law and the purging of evil. This time was without a king, but not without rules, order, or a system of justice.

While the Lord foretold before Samuel's day that a king would come, in a line of kings, we also receive a warning and a revelation that having a king was not what God chose for Israel. Samuel reminded the people that when they saw Nahash king of the Ammonites coming against them, they said, "No, we want a king to rule over us" — "even though the Lord your God was your king" (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 12:12).

The Lord warned what would happen when the people did not have God as their immediate ruler but placed a proxy ruler over themselves. Samuel described what the king would claim as his rights: he would take their sons for his chariots and armies and fields, their daughters as perfumers, cooks, and bakers, the best of their fields and vineyards for his officials, a tenth of their grain and flocks, and their servants and livestock for his own use; they themselves would become his slaves, and when they cried out because of the king they had chosen, the Lord would not answer them (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 8:11–18).

Many would argue that our current system of government is what is needed, and the best way to secure justice, mercy, defense, and economic good — but I would suggest it resembles what "the king will claim as his rights." If what the Lord prepared is better, it should not be disregarded, and I believe it is the ultimate condition when Christ returns: the Lord of lords will rule over the earth directly.

James refers to a "law of liberty" (James 1:25; 2:12). To put it simply, I am using that phrase for the way of life and set of protocols God has prepared for everyday living. In the days before the kings, the days of the Judges, there were wars and victories; there were property rights; there was justice, as we see in the story of the Levite and the purging of the tribe of Benjamin.

This time of no king was actually a time with a King: "even though the Lord your God was your king" (1 Samuel 12:12).

Elements of living under this kind of liberty can be seen in secular history, in times when there was no proxy between communities and God. (My use of the term "law of liberty" is not exactly what the Bible means by it, but it describes the manner in which God rules over us and what He even suggested to the Israelites.)

The Not So Wild, Wild West (a book I have not read but whose ideas I have heard in lectures) looks at how the American frontier functioned without a government over it. There is a need for order and protection, and this was carried out by the people, as we see the tribes doing. In the West, communities established associations and arbitration bodies to settle disputes. They had no legal power outside the community to force compliance, but those who did not play fair faced being shunned. Violence faced the collective response of the community, as we see the tribes do against Benjamin.

You can even see a more modern application of this among international corporations. There are international arbitration courts, similar in kind to those that developed in the "wild west." These courts have no power over a company in another country, but corporations that do not comply face repercussions.

To obey authority is right, but authority need not mean what we typically take it to mean. Children should submit to their parents, parents to God, and those in authority to God. Just as the Lord wanted to be Israel's king, He wants to be your King, and He has a plan in Christ for the fullness of time (cf. Ephesians 1:10) to be the ruling King of the world. The blessings of obeying Him are available in any circumstance — the conditions do not matter, whether the oppressive days of the New Testament writers, eras of church-state rule, or the democracies of the present world. The law of liberty is always available, as available as God.

Paul writes that everyone is to be subject to the governing authorities, since there is no authority except from God and those that exist have been instituted by Him; whoever resists them resists what God has appointed; rulers are God's servants for our good and bear the sword to punish wrongdoing; so we must submit, not only to avoid punishment but for the sake of conscience (a paraphrase of Romans 13:1–5).

Many of the early American leaders tied liberty to a virtuous people. Where they fell short was in not tying that virtue to a more solid foundation than "these truths are self-evident." If the church would rise to be the glorious body it can be — as it will be one day — we could live under a kind of greatness like that offered to the Israelites: not necessarily promises of land and covenant, but the blessing that comes from God's presence when we humble ourselves before Him. The church must fast.

Fast in the sense of humbling ourselves and realizing our true position — unworthy, and truly appreciating what has been and continues to be given to us. This is what the Lord points to as our reason for being kind (because He was kind) and merciful (because He was merciful). We must keep the kind of fast described in Isaiah 58: to loose the bonds of injustice and undo the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, to share bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into our homes, and clothe the naked; then our light will break forth like the dawn, and when we call, the Lord will answer, "Here I am" (a paraphrase of Isaiah 58:6–9).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Content note: Judges 19–21 includes sexual violence, murder, and mass killing. The discussion below refers to these events without describing them in detail.

The comment raises a real question about kingship, and Scripture itself holds more than one perspective on it. 1 Samuel 8 and 12 present the demand for a king as a rejection of the Lord's rule, as the comment says. But Deuteronomy 17:14–20 anticipates a king and regulates him, Genesis 49:10 promises that the scepter will not depart from Judah, and the whole messianic hope rests on a king from David's line. Many interpreters read Judges' refrain — "there was no king in Israel" — as the book arguing that Israel needed a righteous king, pointing forward to David and ultimately to Christ. Others read it as the comment does, emphasizing that the problem was Israel's refusal of the King they already had. Both readings have deep roots.

What is difficult to sustain is the idea that Judges 19–21 illustrates justice functioning well without central authority. The narrator frames these chapters with the refrain as an indictment, and the events are the darkest in the book: the assault and death of the Levite's concubine (see #1271); a civil war in which Benjamin's towns are burned and the tribe nearly exterminated (20:46–48); the destruction of Jabesh-gilead, sparing only four hundred young women taken as wives for the survivors (21:10–12); and then the abduction of the young women of Shiloh at a festival (21:20–23). The "mercy" to Benjamin was carried out through further violence against women. Most readers of every tradition see these chapters as showing what happens when everyone does what is right in their own eyes — which is the book's own summary.

On the political argument: views on the proper scope of government are a matter of genuine disagreement among Christians, and the comment's view is its own. Romans 13, which the comment itself cites, affirms the legitimacy of governing authorities while leaving their form open. The comment's closing call — the fast of Isaiah 58, justice for the oppressed and bread for the hungry — is common ground across those disagreements, and it is the note on which the prophets themselves consistently land.

Once again we are given a picture of Israel's condition, in the account of a Levite and his concubine.

First, this Levite takes a concubine though there is no indication he has a wife — it appears he is simply unwilling to give her the status of a wife. While some translations of 19:2 say she was unfaithful, there is good support for the reading that she was angry with him, which the context supports better. Being angry, she leaves and returns to her father's house. Only after four months does the Levite consider reconciliation. He intends to speak to her and persuade her to return (19:3), but when he arrives he spends day after day feasting with her father. When he is finally ready to leave, the text says he took his two saddled donkeys and his concubine (19:10) — I think there is a deliberate suggestion here that he regarded her as barely distinguishable from his animals.

Traveling back, he chooses not to stop in the foreign town of Jebus, assuming he would be safer in Gibeah, a town of Israel. Two things become clear. First, the presence of a foreign town at all signals Israel's disobedience. Second, and worse, the Israelite town proves more dangerous than the foreign one would have been. When they reach Gibeah, no one will offer them hospitality, though they ask only for shelter (19:18–19) — another indication of how far things had fallen.

AI-Expanded Reflection

This chapter is among the most disturbing in Scripture, and the discomfort is the correct response to it. The commentary above reads the Levite carefully and rightly — the four-month delay, the feasting, the word order in verse 10 — and that attention matters, because the narrative's judgment on him is delivered entirely through such details.

Several things are worth adding. The woman never speaks. She is the only major figure in the account without a recorded word, and the text does not tell us her name. Every decision about her is made by someone else, including the decision to push her out the door. When the Levite later recounts events to the assembly of Israel (20:4–5), he edits his own role out entirely, claiming they intended to kill him. The narrator has already told us what actually happened, so the reader watches him lie.

The passage deliberately mirrors Genesis 19, where Lot offers his daughters to a mob at Sodom. Judges is making the comparison on purpose: an Israelite town now behaves as Sodom did, and worse, since here the offer is carried out. That is the book's argument in its most extreme form, and it explains why the account is included without commentary — the reader is meant to recognize what Israel has become by recognizing what the story resembles.

Nothing here is presented as a model, and the chapter is not a teaching text in the ordinary sense. It is a record of atrocity, preserved because the alternative would be a national history with its worst crime removed. For readers who have experienced sexual violence, this passage may be genuinely difficult to read, and there is no obligation to press through it alone or without support.

This sad story begins with "in those days Israel had no king" (Judges 19:1) and ends with the same phrase, adding that everyone did as they saw fit (Judges 21:25).

At first I assumed this simply meant Israel lacked a human king, since the monarchy hadn't yet been established. But thinking further, I believe the "king" this refers to is God Himself. He'd established Israel as a theocracy in Canaan — He was their king, and "in those days," Israel had rejected Him as such, neither worshiping nor obeying Him. Instead, everyone did as they saw fit.

So what happens when everyone does whatever they see fit? The entire book of Judges is about exactly that, culminating in the story of the Levite and his concubine. Each successive generation grows more depraved, both individually and as a nation. Romans 1 explains what happens when people reject God — He gives them over to their own sinful desires, shameful lusts, and depraved minds, filled with every kind of wickedness, greed, envy, murder, deceit, malice, arrogance, and rebellion, inventing new ways of doing evil, without understanding, fidelity, love, or mercy (a paraphrase of Romans 1:24–31).

But God, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, saved us from our own depravity — without His Spirit in our lives, we'd be doomed to the exact same fate. Let's acknowledge who our King truly is, becoming faithful, obedient servants of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ, our Savior.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Paul's description of what happens when people reject God is worth noting for its specific structure, not just its content — the phrase "God gave them over" appears three separate times across that passage (Romans 1:24, 26, 28), each time marking a further stage of moral collapse. That repeated phrasing suggests judgment here isn't primarily active divine punishment inflicted from outside, but something closer to release — God simply allowing rejection of Him to run its own natural course, unrestrained. Read that way, the escalating chaos this comment traces through Judges isn't really God punishing Israel from a distance; it's the entirely predictable, self-inflicted result of what happens whenever a community rejects the one restraint that was actually holding worse things back.

We don't hear God's voice in this passage. Can we infer what God would find pleasing here? They made a vow and kept it — good, and even did so twice. They purged evil — good. But now they're facing the complete eradication of an entire tribe, and they find a solution through what amounts to a loophole. Assuming God wants His people preserved for His own glory, I find myself wondering — is finding women to hand over from one tribe to another simply "acceptable"? I would have liked to see them ask God for a solution here, the way they did before the battle itself. This loophole solution, and the way they seem to turn a blind eye to it, makes me wonder: what can we infer from God's character about His view of this, and what outcome He might have actually preferred?

AI-Expanded Reflection

Worth noticing that the book itself seems to share this discomfort, and signals it structurally. The exact phrase this comment is implicitly reacting to — "everyone did what was right in their own eyes" — doesn't just describe chapter 17; it closes the entire book, appearing four separate times across its final chapters (Judges 17:6; 18:1; 19:1; 21:25). Nowhere in this final, grim sequence does the text say God was consulted, approved, or pleased — a notable absence, given how often earlier chapters explicitly show Israel inquiring of God before battle. Many readers take that silence as deliberate: the book of Judges doesn't appear to be holding up its own ending as a model to imitate, but as the final, disturbing example of exactly the pattern its own closing refrain names — a nation making its own solutions without asking God at all, and getting exactly the kind of ugly outcome that produces.