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The Two Soldiers Who Won by Not Fighting

Jonathan the Maccabee tears his clothes in the dirt while his army flees. David walks onto a field no one sent him to. Both win the same way.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Ambush in the Mountains
  2. The Reversal No One Can Explain
  3. The Boy on the Valley Floor
  4. The Weapon Both of Them Carried

The Ambush in the Mountains

Jonathan the Maccabee was losing badly. His soldiers had been moving across a wide plain when the enemy sprang a trap from the mountains on both sides. The encirclement was complete. Jonathan's forces collapsed. They ran. All of them. Only two officers held their ground, Mattathias son of Absalom and Judas son of Calphi, while everywhere else there was chaos and running.

Jonathan did not chase his fleeing men. He did not issue orders, regroup, or look for high ground. He tore his clothes, threw earth upon his head, and prayed.

The Reversal No One Can Explain

In the ancient world, tearing one's garments and pouring dust on one's head was the posture of total grief. It was the gesture of a man who had accepted he had nothing left. Not surrender to the enemy. Surrender to something beyond the battle.

Then Jonathan turned back to the fight. And the enemy fled before him.

The First Book of Maccabees offers no tactical explanation. No ambush that suddenly turned. No hidden reserves. No shift in terrain. The enemy fled because Jonathan stopped performing courage and accepted catastrophe, because the man with nothing left to lose stepped back into the field, and something in that posture changed the nature of the battle entirely.

The Boy on the Valley Floor

The Josephus account of David and Goliath carries the same structural logic. David was not a soldier. He was a shepherd boy who had come to the Israelite camp to bring food to his brothers. He arrived during a standoff that had gone on for forty days. Goliath came out each morning to challenge Israel, and for forty days no one had answered. Two armies were waiting for someone to do something.

David asked what would be given to the man who killed the Philistine. His brothers were angry at the question. He had no business asking. He was not a fighter. He had no armor and no training in the formations that professional soldiers used. He went to Saul and said he would go. Saul was doubtful. David said he had killed a lion with his hands when it came for his flock. He said he could do this.

He went without armor, without the sword and shield Saul offered and which he could not walk in, carrying five smooth stones from the brook and a sling. Goliath looked at him and laughed. The boy running toward him with nothing but a bag of rocks was the least threatening thing Goliath had faced in a military career. David sent the first stone into the giant's forehead.

The Weapon Both of Them Carried

What Jonathan and David share is not tactics. They share a refusal to accept the terms the battlefield was imposing. Jonathan's terms were a rout he could not recover from, and his response was to stop trying to recover from it within military logic. David's terms were a forty-day standoff that everyone else had accepted as permanent, and his response was to walk out to the valley floor without anyone's permission.

Both of them reached a point where the conventional response was unavailable, and both of them did something that looked, from the outside, exactly like giving up. Jonathan threw dust on his head. David brought five stones to a giant armored man. Neither response was rational by military calculation. Both of them worked.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

The Book of Maccabees I 11:80The Book of Maccabees I

That feeling is deeply human, and it's a scenario that plays out dramatically in the First Book of Maccabees.

Think of Jonathan as a key figure in the ongoing struggle for Jewish freedom and religious expression against the Seleucid Empire. He’s not quite as famous as his brother, but absolutely vital to the story.

Chapter 11 opens with Jonathan facing a formidable "host of strangers" in a wide, open plain. But here's the catch: this isn't a straightforward battle. The enemy has laid an ambush, hiding soldiers in the surrounding mountains, a classic military tactic. It’s like they’re saying, "

It works. As the hidden soldiers spring their trap, Jonathan's forces are overwhelmed. Panic sets in. "All that were of Jonathan’s side fled," the verse says. It's a rout. A complete collapse.

Imagine the scene: chaos, fear, soldiers scattering in every direction. It must have felt like all hope was lost.

Only two figures stand their ground: "Mattathias the son of Absalom, and Judas the son of Calphi, the captains of the host." These aren't the famous Mattathias and Judas Maccabeus, but rather two other officers in Jonathan's army. They remain steadfast.

But even with their bravery, the situation looks dire. Then, Jonathan himself, witnessing the devastation, takes action.

"Then Jonathan rent his clothes, and cast earth upon his head, and prayed."

This isn't just a dramatic gesture; it's a powerful expression of grief, despair, and a desperate plea for divine intervention. Tearing one's clothes (keriah) and throwing dust on one's head were ancient Jewish mourning rituals, signs of profound sorrow and humility before God. Jonathan isn't just a military leader; he's a man turning to his faith in a moment of crisis. He is utterly vulnerable before God.

And then… something shifts.

"Afterwards turning again to battle, he put them to flight, and so they ran away."

The text doesn’t explain exactly how Jonathan turned the tide. Was it a sudden burst of courage? Divine intervention? A tactical shift? We don't know. What we do know is that Jonathan, fueled by prayer and a renewed sense of purpose, rallies his remaining forces (or perhaps even fights nearly alone) and somehow manages to rout the enemy. The ambushers become the ambushed, fleeing in disarray.

It's a remarkable turnaround. A evidence of the power of faith, resilience, and the human spirit. It also reminds us that even in the face of overwhelming odds, even when defeat seems certain, the possibility of victory, of a shift in fortune, always remains.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that prayer and action aren’t mutually exclusive. That even when we feel most vulnerable, most defeated, we can still find the strength to turn back to the battle. To stand our ground. To fight for what we believe in. And that, perhaps, is the most enduring lesson of the Maccabees.

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Antiquities VI.7-8Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Samuel delivered God's command to Saul without ambiguity: destroy the Amalekites completely. Every man, woman, child, and animal, total annihilation as divine punishment for what Amalek had done to Israel during the Exodus. Saul assembled four hundred thousand soldiers plus thirty thousand from the tribe of Judah, set ambushes along the rivers, and crushed the Amalekite army. He burned their cities. He killed the women and children, as ordered.

He kept one thing alive: Agag, the Amalekite king, whose beauty and stature impressed him. The soldiers, too, kept the best livestock for themselves. Everything worthless they destroyed. Everything valuable they spared. It was selective obedience, which is to say, disobedience.

God told Samuel he regretted making Saul king. Samuel prayed all night for reconciliation. God refused. When Samuel arrived at Gilgal the next morning, Saul ran to embrace him, declaring he had fulfilled every command. Samuel's reply was devastating: "Then why do I hear sheep bleating and cattle lowing?" Saul blamed the people. Samuel cut him off with words that would echo through all of Israelite theology: God does not delight in sacrifices but in obedience. To obey is better than any burnt offering. Your kingdom will be torn from you and given to a better man.

As Samuel turned to leave, Saul grabbed his cloak so desperately that it ripped. And Samuel said the kingdom would be ripped from him in exactly the same way. Then Samuel had Agag brought before him. The Amalekite king asked, trembling, "Surely the bitterness of death has passed?" Samuel answered: "As your sword made mothers childless, so shall your mother be childless." He executed Agag at Gilgal and never saw Saul again.

God then sent Samuel to Bethlehem, to the house of Jesse. Seven sons paraded before the prophet, tall, handsome, impressive. God rejected every one. "Man looks at outward appearance," God said, "but I look at the heart." The youngest, David, a ruddy-faced shepherd boy, was called in from the fields. Samuel anointed him in secret. The divine spirit left Saul that very day and settled on David, who began to prophesy. And a darkness, strange, demonic, suffocating, descended on the rejected king, who could find relief only when a young harpist from Bethlehem played music in his chambers.

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The Book of Maccabees I 9:43The Book of Maccabees I

The Book of Maccabees I turns to Jonathan Springs an Ambush at the Jordan River.

Then, all at once, they sprang into action! The Book of Maccabees I 9 tells us that Jonathan and his men rose up and "made a slaughter of them in such sort, as many fell down dead, and the remnant fled into the mountain, and they took all their spoils."

Can you picture the scene? The battle is fierce, decisive. Jonathan's strategy works, and the enemy is routed. They claim victory, seizing the spoils of war.

Here's where the story takes a somber turn. The verse reads, "Thus was the marriage turned into mourning, and the noise of their melody into lamentation."

A marriage! A time of joy, of music, of celebration… turned into mourning. What a stark contrast. What could have caused such a drastic shift? The text doesn't explicitly say at this point, but the implication is clear: the battle, the violence, the loss of life, has cast a dark shadow over what should have been a joyous occasion. Perhaps the wedding party was ambushed or perhaps the enemies Jonathan was fighting were somehow linked to the celebration.

It's a powerful reminder of how quickly things can change, how easily joy can be replaced by sorrow.

And it doesn't end there. The text continues, "So when they had avenged fully the blood of their brother, they turned again to the marsh of Jordan."

This adds another layer to the story. It seems that this battle was not just a strategic move, but an act of vengeance. They sought to avenge the blood of their brother. It speaks volumes about the motivations behind their actions, the deep-seated sense of loyalty and the burning desire for justice. Having accomplished this, they retreat to the marsh of Jordan, perhaps to regroup, to mourn, or to prepare for what comes next.

And what does come next?

"Now when Bacchides heard hereof, he came on the sabbath day unto the banks of Jordan with a great power."

Bacchides, a name that likely inspires dread in the hearts of Jonathan's men, arrives with a formidable force. And he arrives on the Sabbath, the day of rest and prayer. The audacity! It's a clear sign of his disregard for Jewish traditions and beliefs. It emphasizes the severity of the conflict, the determination of their enemies, and the challenges that lie ahead for Jonathan and his people.

This passage from Maccabees leaves us with a sense of unease, of anticipation. The story is far from over. The initial victory is tempered by the tragic turn of events, the need for vengeance, and the looming threat of Bacchides. It’s a evidence of the human condition: the highs and lows, the triumphs and tragedies, all intertwined in the tradition of life. What will happen next? We're left to wonder, and to reflect on the complexities of this ancient struggle.

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