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Context No. 604 of 4322 · Judges

Context · Reflection

Judges 8:29-35: in context

29Jerubbaal the son of Joash went and lived in his own house. 30Gideon had seventy sons conceived from his body, for he had many wives. 31His concubine who was in Shechem also bore him a son, and he named him Abimelech. 32Gideon the son of Joash died in a good old age, and was buried in the tomb of Joash his father, in Ophrah of the Abiezrites. 33As soon as Gideon was dead, the children of Israel turned again and played the prostitute following the Baals, and made Baal Berith their god. 34The children of Israel didn’t remember the LORD their God, who had delivered them out of the hand of all their enemies on every side; 35neither did they show kindness to the house of Jerubbaal, that is, Gideon, according to all the goodness which he had shown to Israel.

Gideon has led Israel through one of its great deliverances, rescuing the nation from years of Midianite oppression. He dies at last in a good old age, honored, buried in his father's tomb. And then the text records what happened the moment he was gone, and it is dismal. As soon as Gideon was dead, the Israelites turned again and prostituted themselves to the Baals, and did not remember the LORD their God who had rescued them from all their enemies, nor did they show kindness to the family of Gideon in return for all the good he had done for Israel. Two forgettings, side by side, and both instant. They forgot the God who saved them, and they forgot the man God used to do it.

What is striking is how fast it happened. Gideon's whole deliverance, the defeat of Midian, the years of peace it bought, evaporated from Israel's memory the instant the visible reminder was buried. While Gideon lived, they remembered; the moment he was gone, the gratitude went with him, to both God and man. It exposes how fragile human memory and thankfulness really are, how quickly the vivid rescue of one season becomes ancient history once time passes and the reminders are removed. They did not decide to be ungrateful. They simply stopped remembering, and ingratitude filled the space.

That is a warning about my own memory, because I am no more reliable than they were. God's deliverances in my past, the crises he brought me through, the mercies that once felt overwhelming, fade with astonishing speed, and so does my gratitude to the people who were good to me when I needed it, once the need has passed and they are out of sight. Remembering, it turns out, takes deliberate work; forgetting is automatic. Whose past kindness have I let slip from memory, God's rescues and the goodness of people who helped me, and what would it take to deliberately remember and give thanks before the forgetting is complete?

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