The royal register of the kingdoms of Judah and Israel ends with disgrace, but also with a touch of grace that whispers hopeful towards the future.
Jerusalem fell on the ninth day of the tenth month, a date that can be found in Babylonian records and still remembered today as a day of woe on the Jewish calendar. The Babylonian siege, through the summer months, exhausted the city. King Zedekiah attempted to escape to the south but was caught and brought in chains to King Nebuchadnezzar. The last king of Judah is forced to see his sons killed and then his eyes taken out. Blind, chained, he is led to Babylon. He is never heard from again.
The city is destroyed. The temple is in flames. King Solomon’s glory - whatever is left after so many wars - is dismantled and carried away.
More are exiled, some are left behind to keep working the vineyards and olive groves, to make sure the taxes flow. A governor, Gedalyahu, is nominated by Babylon but those who remained pro-king assassinated him. Many of those remaining in Judah fled to Egypt. Among them will be Jeremiah, whose laments will become one of the soundtracks of this exile.
Thirty seven years go by. 561 BCE marks 25 years since the burning of Jerusalem, and 37 years since King Yehoyakim was exiled to Babylon. He has spent all those years in jail.
A new king rules Babylon, Eveel or Emel Mardoch, Nebuchadnezzar’s son and heir. Pardons him and releases Yehoyakim. The date is specified - just days before the Babylonian New Year, coinciding with the new king’s coronation. Perhaps it was an act of grace or the recognition that this old king, the last of the seed of David, was not a threat.
The King of Judah is received with kindness, and is held in high esteem, “given a throne above those of other kings who were with him in Babylon.” The king of Judah will now sit at the King of Babylon’s table, part prisoner, part exile, part guest.
And the book ends with this heartbreaking image:
וַאֲרֻחָת֗וֹ אֲרֻחַ֨ת תָּמִ֧יד נִתְּנָה־לּ֛וֹ מֵאֵ֥ת הַמֶּ֖לֶךְ דְּבַר־י֣וֹם בְּיוֹמ֑וֹ כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֥י חַיָּֽו׃
A regular allotment of food was given him at the instance of the king—an allotment for each and every day—all the days of his life.
The last king of Judah is fed by his master, exiled from his land and deprived of power. But there are two words hidden in this verse that hint at hope, a choice to add to this depressing moment a glimpse of the glorious past and insist on a much better future.
The word for ‘regular’ is the Hebrew ‘Tamid’ - the term used for the twice daily offering of a lamb sacrificed each dawn and dusk in the Jerusalem temple. The smoke was always blowing up when the temple was open for business, since the days of Solomon. And it’s the glory of Solomon that is hidden in yet another expression in this last verse.
The king received “an allotment for each and every day” - the Hebrew phrase is unusual and appears only once before in the Bible - at the dedication of the temple, spoken by the king’s ancestor, Solomon:
“Let these words of mine, which I have pleaded before God, be close to YHWH day and night, and may He maintain the cause of His servant and the cause of His people Israel, day by day — for each and every day”. (I Kings 8:59)
The authors of this book, aware of the high stakes of the project of writing down the Hebrew Bible, even as the exile reduced the royal house and judaic aspirations, inserted a secret message of hope: We shall return.
Maybe this moment reflects the fantasy of Jews ever since through so many diasporas - to sit at the ruler’s table, respected and taken care of. Two generations later, when the Babylonians will topple and the Persians will take over, it will be Yehoyakim grandson, Zerubbael, two generations later, who will lead the first group of Judean exiles back to Jerusalem to begin the next chapter that will eventually lead to the rebuilding of the temple and the restoration of the daily Tamid offering - for each and every day. For a while anyway.
And as the last king of Judah eats his meal in Babylon, the Hebrew Bible turns back the pages and shifts the focus from the lives of kings to the words of the prophets. Coming up next is the Book of Isaiah, as we go back in time to the 8th century BCE, and view from the prophet’s point of view the conditions of human folly that led Judah into exile, and gave us the poetry of pain, the metaphors of loss and the language of warning - with which to never lose our commitment to justice and our hope for better days.
The Book of Kings is Done. Long live the Prophets.
Your writing on the last chapter of Kings evoked a sigh. Now for what I won't be surprised to see, a new style of interpretation as we leave narratives and chronicles, for poetry....with you all the way.