When Power Corrupts: Abimelech’s Tragic Rise and Fall
What’s Judges 9 about?
This is the story of Abimelech, Gideon’s son who murdered his 70 brothers to seize power, only to watch everything crumble around him. It’s a dark mirror showing us what happens when ambition replaces character, and how violence begets violence in an endless, tragic cycle.
The Full Context
Judges 9 comes right after one of Israel’s greatest victories under Gideon, but it reads like a Shakespearean tragedy. After Gideon’s death, his son Abimelech—born to a concubine from Shechem—decides he should rule over Israel. But here’s the thing: Gideon had explicitly refused kingship when offered it, saying “The Lord will rule over you” (Judges 8:23). Abimelech apparently missed that memo. Using his mother’s family connections in Shechem, he convinces the city leaders to fund his coup, then systematically murders his 69 half-brothers on a single stone—except for Jotham, the youngest, who escapes to tell the tale.
This chapter sits at the heart of the book of Judges, serving as a cautionary tale about what happens when Israel abandons God’s design for leadership. The author is showing us the logical endpoint of the cycle we’ve been watching: Israel sins, faces oppression, cries out, gets a deliverer, enjoys peace, then repeats the cycle. But Abimelech represents something darker—not just moral failure, but active rebellion against God’s order. His three-year reign becomes a masterclass in how unchecked ambition destroys not just the ambitious, but entire communities. The literary structure is brilliant: it opens with a parable, unfolds as political drama, and closes with divine justice that feels both inevitable and tragic.
What the Ancient Words tell us
The Hebrew vocabulary in this chapter is absolutely loaded with meaning. When Abimelech convinces the men of Shechem to make him king, they give him seventy pieces of silver from the temple of Baal-Berith (Judges 9:4). That name literally means “Baal of the covenant”—a direct mockery of Israel’s covenant with Yahweh. It’s like funding a rebellion with money stolen from a church offering plate.
But here’s where it gets really interesting. The word used for the men Abimelech hires is reqim—literally “empty” or “worthless” men. These aren’t just mercenaries; they’re the kind of people with nothing to lose and no moral compass. The same word describes the men who followed Jephthah (Judges 11:3), but there it’s almost sympathetic—outcasts finding purpose. Here, it’s purely destructive.
Grammar Geeks
When Jotham tells his parable about the trees seeking a king (Judges 9:8-15), he uses a specific Hebrew verbal form that indicates repeated action. The trees keep going from one potential ruler to another, suggesting this isn’t just a one-time search but a pattern of seeking the wrong kind of leadership.
The murder scene is described with brutal efficiency: Abimelech kills his brothers “on one stone” (’al-’eben ’ehat). In Hebrew, this phrase carries overtones of an altar—suggesting ritualistic slaughter. It’s as if Abimelech is offering his own family as sacrifice to his ambition.
What would the Original Audience Have Heard?
Picture the original audience hearing this story around a campfire. They’re living in a time when Israel has no king, and the question of leadership is constantly on everyone’s mind. When they hear about Abimelech’s rise, they’re not just hearing ancient history—they’re hearing their own temptations played out in vivid, terrifying detail.
The mention of Shechem would have sent chills down their spines. This wasn’t just any city—it was where Abraham first built an altar in the Promised Land (Genesis 12:6-7), where Jacob’s sons massacred the population after Dinah’s rape (Genesis 34), and where Joshua renewed Israel’s covenant with God (Joshua 24). This city had seen both God’s promises and human violence before.
When Jotham climbs Mount Gerizim to deliver his parable, the geography itself is shouting. This is the mountain of blessing (Deuteronomy 11:29), where Israel was supposed to hear God’s promises proclaimed. Instead, they’re hearing a curse pronounced over their chosen king.
Did You Know?
Archaeological excavations at Shechem have revealed massive destruction layers from this period, including evidence of fires and collapsed buildings that could correspond to the events described in Judges 9. The ancient city’s strategic location at the crossroads of major trade routes made it wealthy—and made control of it extremely valuable.
The original audience would have caught something else: the irony of Abimelech’s name, which means “my father is king.” Here’s a man whose father explicitly rejected kingship, yet he bears a name that proclaims royal authority. Every time someone called his name, they were reminding everyone of the contradiction at the heart of his identity.
Wrestling with the Text
Here’s what keeps me awake at night thinking about this passage: How does someone go from being Gideon’s son to murdering 69 of his own brothers? The text doesn’t give us Abimelech’s internal monologue, but it shows us the progression. First, he sees an opportunity (his connection to Shechem). Then he rationalizes it (wouldn’t it be better to have one ruler than 70?). Finally, he acts on it with ruthless efficiency.
But there’s something even more troubling here. The men of Shechem don’t just passively accept Abimelech’s proposal—they actively fund it. They’re not victims; they’re investors in violence. They see this brutal young man and think, “Yes, this is exactly the kind of leader we want.” What does that say about the kind of society that was developing in Israel?
“When we choose leaders based on what they promise to do to our enemies rather than who they are in character, we shouldn’t be surprised when the violence eventually turns on us.”
And then there’s Jotham’s parable. It’s brilliant political satire: the useful trees (olive, fig, vine) all decline to be king because they’re too busy doing productive work. Only the thornbush—useless except for causing pain—accepts the crown. But here’s the kicker: even the thornbush warns that if the trees aren’t sincere in their choice, fire will come out and devour them all.
The parable isn’t just predicting Abimelech’s downfall; it’s revealing the corrupting nature of power itself. Good leaders often don’t seek power, while those who desperately want it are usually the least suited for it.
How This Changes Everything
This isn’t just an ancient political thriller—it’s a mirror held up to every society that has ever existed. Abimelech’s story forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about power, leadership, and complicity.
First, it shows us that violence is a terrible foundation for authority. Abimelech’s reign begins with mass murder and ends with his own violent death. The text is clear: “God repaid the wickedness that Abimelech had done to his father by killing his seventy brothers” (Judges 9:56). This isn’t just karma—it’s divine justice playing out through human choices and consequences.
Wait, That’s Strange…
Notice how Abimelech dies: a woman drops a millstone on his head, and rather than die from this “shameful” wound, he has his armor-bearer run him through with a sword (Judges 9:53-54). Even in his final moments, he’s more concerned with his reputation than with repentance. Pride literally kills him twice.
Second, it reveals how quickly a community can become complicit in evil. The men of Shechem don’t just follow Abimelech—they enable him. They provide the funding, the personnel, and the legitimacy he needs. When he eventually turns on them, they have no moral authority left to resist because they’ve already compromised their integrity by supporting him.
Third, it demonstrates that God’s justice, while sometimes delayed, is never absent. The chapter ends with a theological statement that’s easy to miss: “Thus God repaid the wickedness of Abimelech… and God also made all the wickedness of the people of Shechem fall back on their heads” (Judges 9:56-57). This isn’t passive divine observation—it’s active moral governance of the world.
But perhaps most importantly, this chapter shows us what Israel looks like when it abandons God’s design for leadership. Instead of judges who reluctantly accept authority and use it to serve others, we get kings who seize power and use it to serve themselves. The contrast with Gideon couldn’t be clearer: where Gideon refused a crown, Abimelech grabbed one; where Gideon sought God’s will, Abimelech followed his own ambition; where Gideon brought peace, Abimelech brought chaos.
Key Takeaway
Power reveals character—it doesn’t create it. When we choose leaders, we’re not just selecting who will make decisions; we’re deciding what kind of society we want to become.
Further reading
Internal Links:
- Judges 9:8 – Jotham’s parable of the trees
- Judges 9:23 – When God sends an evil spirit
- Judges 9:56 – Divine justice in action
External Scholarly Resources:
