Judges. Abraham Kuruvilla

      The first move, from text to (pericopal) theology, draws meaning from the biblical text with authority; the second, from theology to praxis, directs meaning to the situations of listeners with relevance. The advantage of employing pericopal theology as the intermediary between text and application is that its specificity for the chosen text makes possible a weekly movement from pericope to pericope, without the tedium of repetition of themes, but with a clear progression and development of distinct theological ideas as one preaches through a book. In sum, the theology of the pericope (a crystallization of which is labeled “Theological Focus” in this commentary) functions as the bridge between text and praxis, enabling the move from the then to the now for valid application. The resulting transformation of lives reflects a gradual and increasing alignment to the values of God’s kingdom and thus an increasing approximation of Christlikeness, as pericopes are sequentially preached. So, a pericope, as a quantum of the biblical text, is more than informing; it is transforming. Sermon by sermon and pericope by pericope, God’s people are being conformed into the image of Christ by the power of God’s Spirit (Rom 8:4, 29)—a christiconic hermeneutic.

This commentary, as with the others in this series, adopts a synchronic approach that deals with the final form of the text as we have it, construing it as a meaningful, coherent, canonical unit of theological worth. I take it that a biblical author writes purposefully, creating a text with intention, each part of it contributing to the overall theological agenda of the book. Each of the narratives in Judges “has a literary integrity apart from circumstances relating to the compositional process, the historical reality behind the story, or the interpretive agenda of the reader” and that privileging the pericope and its literary features will reveal its thrust, the theology of the pericope.7 This, of course, is not to deny the relationship between the pericope and the larger narrative it is part of. As with pearls and the necklace they make up—pearls are carefully chosen by color, grade, shape, and size to create the necklace—pericopes, too, are diligently selected and linked to create the larger account. Pericopes, thus, are interpreted by the arc of the broader text they create and, in turn, the trajectory of the overall text is determined by the theological thrusts of the individual pericopes it comprises. It is a “both . . . and . . . ” situation, a dual polarity true of any interpretive endeavor: the parts determine the whole and the whole determines the parts.

      This work does not intend to lead preachers all the way to a fully developed sermon on each pericope; rather, it seeks to take them through the first move—from text to (pericopal) theology: the hermeneutical aspect of sermon preparation. Though that is the primary focus, the commentary does provide two “Possible Preaching Outlines” for each pericope, to advance preachers a few more steps closer to a sermon. However, they are left to work out the second move from theology to sermon/application (the rhetorical aspect of sermon preparation) on their own, providing appropriate moves-to-relevance, specific application, illustrations, etc., all of which can only be done by the shepherd who knows the flock well. Beyond a few general guidelines, it is impossible for a third party to determine what exactly specific application looks like for a particular audience. That is a task between the preacher, the Holy Spirit, and the congregation. Therefore, this is not a “preaching” commentary, in the usual sense. Rather it is a “theology-for-preaching” commentary, i.e., a work that seeks to undertake an extremely focused interpretation of the text, one that moves the preacher from text to pericopal theology, en route to a sermon. In that sense, this is a “theological” commentary.

Commentaries were described by Ernest Best as “the backbone of all serious studies of scripture.”8 Therefore, it is hoped that not only preachers, but all interested laypersons, Sunday School teachers, and others who teach Scripture will find this commentary—a small vertebra in that spinal column—helpful. For that matter, if application is the ultimate goal of Bible study of any kind and at any level, a work such as this promises to be useful even for those making their own way through Judges. Which brings me to another point: while a working knowledge of Hebrew will be very handy for the reader, Hebrew terms and phrases (and the rare Greek ones), wherever referred to in the commentary, have been both transliterated and translated, in order to enable those not as facile with the original language to use this work efficiently.9

      Needless to say, in all sermonic enterprises, quality and depth and intensity of preaching go only so far towards accomplishing the spiritual formation of listeners. Augustine (De doctrina christiana 4.27.59) noted wisely: “But whatever may be the majesty of the style [of the preaching], the life of the speaker will count for more in securing the hearer’s compliance,” not to mention the divine work of the Spirit in the hearts of listeners. Therefore, this commentary is submitted with the prayer that preachers, the leaders of God’s people, will pay attention to their own lives first and foremost, as they work through Judges, seeking to align themselves to God’s call in each pericope of the book, thus becoming, in the power of the Spirit, a leader more Christlike.

      PROLEGOMENA

      The judges too, each when he was called,

       all men whose hearts were never disloyal,

      who never turned their backs on the Lord—

       may their memory be blessed!

      May their bones flower again from the tomb,

      and may the names of those glorious men live again in their sons.

      (Sir 46:11–12)

      For all his enthusiasm, Jesus Ben Sira never mentions the name of a single judge, though he is keen to present other “glorious men” of Israel by name in preceding chapters (44:1—45:26). Perhaps that tells us something.

[T]he judges described in [the book of Judges] are anything but stirring, patriotic heroes. Rather, they represent almost caricatures of what a hero and leader should be, and they lead Israel from a unified nation cementing its covenant relationship with God, as in Josh 24, to a nation becoming an independent group of jealous tribes who compete with one another, steal priests from one another, and eventually decimate one whole tribe of their people and have to resort to a desperate measure to repopulate the tribe.10

      As one traverses the book, it is not only the judges who become increasingly misguided, but the Israelites themselves become progressively more culpable. With Othniel, there is no mention of any unilateral tribal action—a perfect situation with the whole nation operating as one unit. With Ehud, the Ephraimites are mustered for war (Jdg 3:27), with no obvious input from Yahweh. With Barak, Zebulun and Naphtali are called in (4:10), but an entire chapter is given over to excoriate non-participating tribes (Judges 5). With Gideon, the Abiezrites, Manasseh, Asher, Zebulun, and Napthali are summoned (6:34–35), but the throng is culled by Yahweh to just a few hundred (7:4–8); a second rallying of troops, primarily of Ephraim (7:24) turns out to create a brouhaha, with this tribe protesting their late call into battle (8:1–3), though Gideon negotiates his way out of trouble. Not so with Jephthah: he gathers troops from Gilead and Manasseh (11:29), and later from Ephraim (12:1). This time also the Ephraimites are unhappy, but Jephthah shows no hint of diplomacy; instead, he slaughters them (12:2–6). With Samson, there is almost no national or tribal action (resembling the story of the first judge, Othniel) with one unfortunate exception: the