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Ahaz Burned His Children and Spent His Reign Avoiding Isaiah

King Ahaz closed the Temple, burned his own son as an offering, and disguised himself in Jerusalem's streets to avoid walking past the prophet Isaiah.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The King Who Changed His Clothes to Avoid a Prophet
  2. What the Hiding Meant
  3. What He Did to Judah
  4. The Son He Nearly Burned
  5. The Portion He Kept

The King Who Changed His Clothes to Avoid a Prophet

When Isaiah was in Jerusalem, King Ahaz changed his route through the city. He altered his garments, changed his appearance, took the long way around any street where the prophet might be standing. He could not bear to be in the same alley as the man. This was the king who had passed his own son through fire as an offering to Moloch, who had sealed the doors of the Temple and stripped its sacred vessels to pay tribute to Assyria, who had demolished the altars and replaced them with Damascene worship imported wholesale from his Aramean allies.

He burned children. He hid from Isaiah.

These two facts are not contradictory. They are the same fact about the same man.

What the Hiding Meant

The rabbinic tradition does not read Ahaz's avoidance as simple cowardice. It reads it as recognition. Ahaz knew what Isaiah represented. He knew the prophet spoke with genuine authority from a source he had chosen to ignore. He knew the rebukes Isaiah would deliver were accurate. He did not dispute the accuracy. He could not face it.

A man who dismisses a prophet's authority stays in the same room and argues. He challenges the credentials, questions the vision, pushes back. Ahaz did not argue. He disguised himself and walked the other way, which meant he believed every word Isaiah would have said to him. He simply preferred not to hear it spoken aloud in his presence by someone who could see through the disguise.

The Babylonian Talmud distinguishes between sins committed in contempt and sins committed in weakness. The distinction determines whether a person retains their portion in the world to come. Ahaz sinned in ways that were objectively catastrophic. But his running from Isaiah was evidence that the sin was not in contempt. It was in weakness, avoidance, willful blindness. The thing he could not do was stand in front of the prophet and hear himself described accurately.

What He Did to Judah

He closed the schools first. The Temple came later. If you want a tradition to disappear, you interrupt its transmission before you attack its institutions. Close the places where children learn to read the texts, and within a generation the texts belong only to specialists. Specialists can be isolated. Ahaz understood this. The schools closed before he sealed the Temple doors.

He stripped the Temple of its sacred vessels and sent them to the king of Assyria as tribute, purchasing temporary alliance with the dominant regional power. He brought Assyrian worship into the Temple courts. He built the altar of Damascus in the sacred precincts and had the Israelite altar moved aside to make room. He was not neglecting his religious obligations. He was replacing them with new ones, deliberately, systematically, knowing exactly what he was doing and why.

The Son He Nearly Burned

Among the children he brought to the Moloch fires was his infant son Hezekiah. His wife acted before the fire took hold. She rubbed the child with salamander blood, which the tradition held was impervious to flame because salamanders were born from fire itself. The infant survived. Ahaz did not try again.

The child who survived his father's fires would grow up to undo nearly everything Ahaz had done: reopen the schools, restore the Temple, tear down the high places, copy and preserve the sacred texts. The tradition holds this as a kind of cosmic account settling. The man who tried to erase his tradition produced the man who preserved it.

The Portion He Kept

The Talmud grants Ahaz a share in the world to come, which surprises anyone reading the account of his reign. The reasoning is the same reasoning behind the description of him hiding from Isaiah: he never crossed into contempt. He was afraid of the prophet. He believed the prophet. He knew what he was doing and he could not stop and he could not look the prophet in the eye. That combination of guilt and avoidance, however inadequate as a moral performance, is the tradition's minimum threshold for a door that does not close completely.


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Legends of the Jews 9:20Legends of the Jews

Ahaz, King of Judah. Not exactly a name whispered with reverence, is it? In fact, he's often remembered for, shall we say, his less-than-stellar behavior. But here’s a fascinating twist: even the most flawed individuals can possess a sliver of redeeming grace.

What was Ahaz's saving grace? Respect. Respect for the prophet Isaiah.

Ahaz, knowing he was straying from the righteous path, actively tried to avoid Isaiah's gaze! He’d disguise himself when venturing out, all to escape the prophet's inevitable rebukes. It's almost comical, isn't it? A king, master of his domain, yet dodging a prophet like a teenager avoiding a stern parent.

This seemingly small act of respect, according to the tradition, held significant weight. It suggests that even in his misdeeds, Ahaz recognized the authority and wisdom of the divine message.

And here’s another intriguing point: the merit of his ancestors played a role. He was, after all, the son of a pious father and the father of an equally pious son. Think of it as a spiritual ripple effect, the good deeds of one generation influencing the fate of the next.

Now, before we start thinking Ahaz got off scot-free, let’s be clear: he faced severe consequences for his actions. He didn’t exactly get a free pass.

According to the Legends of the Jews, based on various rabbinic sources, Ahaz did not forfeit his portion in the world to come only because of his respect for Isaiah and the merit of his father and son.

The text paints a vivid picture of suffering. In a disastrous war against Pekah, the king of the northern kingdom of Israel, Ahaz lost his first-born son, a hero in his own right. A devastating blow, both as a king and as a father.

So, what are we left with? A complex portrait of a man caught between conflicting forces. A king who, despite his flaws, showed a glimmer of respect for prophecy. A man whose fate was intertwined with the actions of his ancestors and descendants.

Ahaz reminds us that we are all works in progress, shaped by our choices, our relationships, and the legacies we inherit. And perhaps, just perhaps, even the smallest acts of respect can have a profound impact on our journey.

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Legends of the Jews 9:19Legends of the Jews

King Uzziah, Jotham’s father, suffered from leprosy, making him ritually impure and unable to fully carry out his royal duties. And so, Jotham stepped up, governing Judah for twenty-five years while his father was still alive. Now, Jotham wasn't just a placeholder. He was, according to tradition, an exceptionally righteous man. So righteous, in fact, that some say his merit, combined with the merit of two other incredibly pious individuals, would be enough to atone for every sin committed from the beginning of time until the very end!

Then comes Ahaz, Jotham's son. Oh, what a contrast! Where Jotham shone with piety, Ahaz was, well, quite the opposite. As one source puts it, "From first to last he was a sinner." He actively dismantled the true worship of God, banning the study of Torah, the sacred Jewish teachings. He even went so far as to erect an idol right in the upper room of the Beit HaMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem! And to top it all off, he flagrantly ignored Jewish marriage laws.

What makes Ahaz's actions even more disturbing is that he wasn't ignorant. He knew exactly who God was and what He was capable of. How do we know? Well, the prophet Isaiah, Yeshayahu, challenged Ahaz directly. Isaiah told him, "Ask for a sign from God! Ask that the dead should arise, that Korah should come up from Sheol (the underworld), or that Elijah should descend from Heaven!" The implication is clear: Isaiah believed God would grant such a request for Ahaz.

Ahaz’s response? It's a chilling one. He essentially said, "I know you have the power to do all these things, but I don't want God's Name to be glorified through me." Incredible, isn't it? He wasn't afraid or skeptical. He simply refused to give God glory. Refused. (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, 4:256-257)

So, what do we take away from this stark contrast between father and son? It's a powerful reminder that righteousness and wickedness are choices. Jotham chose a path of devotion and earned legendary status. Ahaz, fully aware of the divine, consciously chose a path of rebellion. It begs the question: what choices are we making, and what kind of legacy will we leave behind?

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Legends of the Jews 9:24Legends of the Jews

It's fascinating to consider. According to Legends of the Jews, those who settled in Samaria after the Assyrians deported the Ten Tribes weren’t exactly quick to embrace the Jewish faith, even when compelled by the Almighty.

Instead, they kind of... mixed things up. They were "forced by God to accept the true religion of the Jews," as Ginzberg puts it, but old habits die hard. The Babylonians, apparently, held a hen sacred. The people of Cuthah? A cock. The residents of Hamath worshipped a ram. And get this – the Avvites had a thing for dogs and donkeys, while the Sepharvites revered mules and horses. Imagine that pantheon! It's a far cry from the golden calf, isn't it?

Let's shift gears and What a character! While the northern kingdom of Israel was, shall we say, heading south, Judah was experiencing a major spiritual and material revival, all thanks to him.

Here's a story you won't believe: as a baby, Hezekiah was destined to be sacrificed to Moloch. Yes, that Moloch. His mother, though, she was a resourceful woman. She saved him by rubbing him with the blood of a salamander. Salamander blood, people! The result? Hezekiah became fire-proof. Seriously! You can find this tale in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews.

Hezekiah was the polar opposite of his father, Ahaz. Ahaz is remembered as one of the worst sinners in Israel's history, while Hezekiah is celebrated as one of the most righteous. His very first act as king shows where his priorities lay: honoring God above all else.

He refused to give his father a royal funeral. Ahaz was buried like a commoner, a nobody. Harsh, maybe, but Hezekiah felt Ahaz didn't deserve any better. And according to the story, God Himself signaled that Ahaz was to be dishonored. On the day of the funeral, daylight lasted only two hours, forcing the burial to take place in complete darkness. A clear message, wouldn’t you say? It's all It really makes you wonder about the weight of legacy and the choices we make, doesn't it?

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