Divided and Doomed: The Kings of Israel & Judah

00:00:00 Speaker 1: Previously on The Chosen People. Jeroboam had won. The house of David had lost. I have taken the throne. Now I must keep it. 00:00:15 Speaker 2: They think they can defy me? That they can cast me aside like some commoner? 00:00:21 Speaker 1: And have you heard? 00:00:24 Speaker 2: The false king Jeroboam, that usurper, is saying that they alone in the north are Israel. We are only Judah. 00:00:34 Speaker 3: Can you believe that? 00:00:37 Speaker 1: My king, I beg you, trust the Lord to uphold what he has given you. Do not repeat Solomon's folly. 00:00:46 Speaker 2: Behold your gods, O Israel. 00:00:48 Speaker 3: Here are the gods who brought. 00:00:50 Speaker 1: You out of Egypt. My king. We cannot defy the Lord's decree. The Lord's decree? 00:01:00 Speaker 3: The Lord's decree is that my father should be king over all Israel, as is our right as the house of David. 00:01:09 Speaker 1: Jeroboam did not look at him. He did not waver. His decision had been made, and neither he nor Rehoboam could see it yet. But their choices... would lead them both to ruin. With the death of Rehoboam, the house of David was diminished. Meanwhile, in the northern kingdom, the house of Jeroboam was doomed. And though the fathers had gone astray from the Lord, it was their sons who would drive their kingdoms to ruin. In the south, Abijam, the son of Rehoboam, would reign in Judah. A king shaped by his father's cruelty, but without his restraint. A man hungry for war. In the north, Nadab, the son of Jeroboam, would rule Israel. A king raised in his father's paranoia, but without his cunning. A man drowning in fear. Neither man was prepared. for the fate that awaited them. The war between Judah and Israel had never truly ended. It smoldered in the background, waiting for the moment it would erupt, and when Abijam ascended to the throne, he fanned it into an inferno. The battlefield stretched wide before them. The hill country of Ephraim had seen many wars, but none like this. The chosen people were at war with themselves. Brother fought brother, tribe fought tribe. 400,000 men stood behind Abijam, son of Rehoboam, king of Judah. Their shields were raised and their banners whipped in the wind as they beheld the massive force ahead. Before them, Israel's army loomed, twice their size. Eight hundred thousand men. Abidjan gripped the pommel of his sword, his jaw tight, as he studied the enemy ranks. Here it was, the war he thirsted for, at last. At the back of the formation, a lone figure watched from a high vantage point. Jeroboam, unmoving, unreadable. And beside him, Nadab, the prince of Israel, shifting uneasily. His young fingers clenched around his sword hilt. Abijam's lip curled. He shouted loud enough for his words to carry across the field to his foe. 00:04:01 Speaker 3: Does Jeroboam think his numbers will save him? 00:04:05 Speaker 1: There was a small hesitation from his general standing beside him. 00:04:10 Speaker 2: My king. 00:04:12 Speaker 1: The southern kingdom of Israel is strong. King Jeroboam has ruled for many years. We must tread carefully. Abijam scoffed. His father's failures haunted him still. 00:04:26 Speaker 3: My father was weak. He fled Shechem like a coward. He flung the gates open wide for the king of Egypt and let them rob us blind. But I have not reborn. I will not be humiliated. I am Abijam, king of Judah, and victory will be ours. 00:04:50 Speaker 1: The army stirred in response, their breath hissing through their teeth. Their fingers tightened on their shields as they moved into position and locked them together in a defensive maneuver. 00:05:03 Speaker 3: Israel, you've rebelled against the house of David. You followed a servant who dares to call himself. 00:05:10 Speaker 1: A king The enemy ranks bristled, but Jeroboam himself stood at the back, watching, waiting. 00:05:19 Speaker 3: You think your numbers will save you? You believe your golden calves will protect you? Do you think you can stand against David's line? 00:05:29 Speaker 1: Jeroboam had heard enough from this insolent, spoiled king. He raised his hand. From the hills, the first war cries split the air. Then the ground shook beneath the pounding of thousands of feet. The glint of sharpened spears caught the sun as they barreled toward the battlefield. Judah's soldiers craned their necks around their shields to see, but it was too late. Abijam's stomach dropped. 00:06:00 Speaker 2: We're surrounded! It's a trap! 00:06:03 Speaker 1: Abijam whipped his head around, his eyes darting wildly. The men behind him hesitated. panic spreading like a sickness through their ranks. Abijam gritted his teeth in frustration and screamed at his general. 00:06:18 Speaker 3: Get them in line! Get them back in line! 00:06:23 Speaker 1: Abijam looked around frantically for something, anything that might give them an advantage to avoid certain defeat. The northerners streamed down the hills of their homeland. cutting down soldier after soldier, taking the advantage of the higher ground. But then Abijam's eyes fell on the wide-eyed column of petrified priests. Though Abijam followed the gods of his mother as the king of Judah, he was still expected to march with a ceremonial order of priests from the temple. Perhaps it was desperation, or a faded memory of seeing how the Lord had stayed the defeat of Jerusalem years ago when his father kneeled, but Abijam turned to the Lord. 00:07:10 Speaker 3: Priest of Yahweh! 00:07:13 Speaker 1: The pale, trembling priests looked upon their king amid battle. 00:07:18 Speaker 3: Call upon the Lord! Call upon the God of David to save us! 00:07:23 Speaker 1: The priests of Judah lifted the ram's horn. A blast of trumpets rang through the valley, piercing the chaos of war, splitting the air like thunder. And at that moment, the army of Judah roared. A desperate battle cry. A cry not for their king, but for their God. And, to Abijam's surprise most of all, he answered. The ground trembled. A shockwave of fear rippled through the northern Israelite ranks. The wall of soldiers surrounding Judah faltered, men hesitating, shifting uneasily as if some unseen force was pressing against them. Then, like a wave breaking on the shore, the northern army's lines wavered, then collapsed like a dam breaking. The sound of swords breaking, men screaming, and retreating footsteps crashed around him, Men fled and chaos consumed Jeroboam's disciplined, battle-hardened soldiers. By the time the sun set over the valley, 500,000 of Jeroboam's men lay dead. It was the greatest defeat of his reign, and it shattered his power. Jeroboam never recovered from this staggering defeat, and his failures did not end with him. They were passed down like a curse to his son Nadab. A prophecy had been spoken, a warning had been given, and yet the son walked the same doomed path as the father, blind to the swords that waited in the shadows. Nadab had grown up watching his father rule in fear. watching him silence critics, crush opposition and even betray his own people, all to cling to his throne. And now, that paranoia was his only inheritance. The sounds of battle rang through the camp. There were distant screams, the clang of metal and the pounding of footsteps through the mud. But inside the king's tent, all was still. Except for Nadab's shaking hands. Barsha. The name sent a shiver down his spine. The rumours of his thirst for power. His rise through the ranks. his growing support among the enemies of Jeroboam's house, and the prophecy, the one that had loomed over Nadab's life ever since his brother died. Barsha was waiting. They all were. Conspiring, plotting, watching. Nadab was sure of it. The conflict with Israel's ancient enemy, the Philistines, should have been his focus. But he wasn't seeing the battlefield. His eyes darted across the parchment on the table before him, but they were unfocused. He saw only ghosts in the corners, traitors in the shadows. A shift in footsteps outside his tent, a sudden silence when he neared. Everything was a threat. Everyone was an enemy. 00:10:50 Speaker 2: They will betray me. They will all betray me. 00:10:56 Speaker 1: He jumped as a figure appeared at the entrance. It was one of his advisors. The torchlight flickered, casting long, shifting shadows against the fabric walls. The advisor hesitated, his face drawn, his posture uneasy. There was news, and by the look in his eyes, it wasn't good. He chose his words carefully, his voice low, deliberate. 00:11:23 Speaker 4: My king, the Philistines are the threat. Your fixation on conspiracies is a distraction. Our men whisper of discontent. We must reassure them. 00:11:34 Speaker 2: Lies. 00:11:36 Speaker 1: Nadab snapped his head up. His eyes were wild, bloodshot. He slammed his fist down onto the table, the map crumpling beneath his palm. 00:11:46 Speaker 2: My father's enemies are still here. They want to see the house of Jeroboam fall. 00:11:52 Speaker 3: They long for it. 00:11:55 Speaker 2: Waiting in the shadows. 00:11:56 Speaker 3: Waiting, waiting to take my throne. 00:12:00 Speaker 1: The advisor sighed, long and slow. Not in surprise, but in resignation. But then Nadab felt the shift in the air. The hairs on his arms rose. The tent felt colder. The advisor spoke again, and this time his voice was different. Heavy. Final. Like something inevitable had just arrived. 00:12:26 Speaker 4: My king, they are not in the shadows. They are here. 00:12:32 Speaker 1: Nadab blinked. Had he heard him right? Or had his paranoia finally devoured his mind? The words hovered in the air like an unfinished sentence. But then... The first knife struck the advisor's throat. There was a spray of blood and a choked gurgle. His body hit the floor. Nadab spun, scrambling for his sword, but the second knife found his back. He let out a sharp gasp. His fingers clutched at the hilt lodged between his ribs. The pain was immediate, searing. His knees buckled. His breath hitched. The tent spun. And as his vision blurred, he saw the would-be king step forward. And when the body fell, Barsha stepped over the pool of blood and stood in his place. A kingdom does not change hands without blood. And in Israel, blood had been spilled. Nadab lay dead in the mud. Jeroboam's house was finished. Just as Nadab had feared, Barsha made it so. Barsha was not a king's son. He was not born to rule. But he had watched. He had waited. And when the moment came, he had killed. The capital city of Terza in the north of Israel still smoldered. The flames had died down, but the stench of burning wood and flesh still hung thick in the air. Barsha stood atop the city walls, the cool night air laced with smoke, his hands still stained with the work of war. Beneath him, the streets ran red. Bodies lined the alleys, Jeroboam's grandsons, his officials, his loyalists. The final purge had been swift, ruthless. complete. Barsha's fingers traced the hilt of his sword, his grip tight. He had seen men rise before him, and he had seen them fall just as quickly. Power was never truly taken, only borrowed. Jeroboam was a fool. He thought he could make himself king and keep his throne. His general stepped forward, a hardened soldier, one who had fought for Jeroboam once. Now he bowed to Barsha. The lines of his face were carved with war, his expression grim. The house of Jeroboam is dead. 00:15:16 Speaker 2: His sons, his family, his allies, all wiped out. 00:15:21 Speaker 1: Barsha exhaled slowly, letting the words seep into his bones. He had done what had to be done. It was his throne now, He allowed himself a smirk, as it should be. The wind shifted, carrying the stench of death and smoke with it. For a moment, the weight of it all pressed against him. He had fulfilled the prophecy. He had wiped out Jeroboam's house, but he had not learned its lesson. For he too turned to the golden calves. He too led Israel into idolatry, and his house too. would be destroyed. But in Judah, in the south, there was a different kind of king on the rise. For all of Abijam's bloodlust and ambition, his reign only lasted three years, and when he met his untimely end, his son Asa took his place. Now Asa had seen the failures of his father, the idols, the corruption, the legacy of weakness, and he chose another path. The pagan shrines loomed before him, carved idols of wood and stone, the scent of past sacrifices still thick in the air. The Asherah poles stood tall, towering over the sacred groves his mother and grandmother had built. These were not the altars of Yahweh. These were monuments to rebellion. Acer's jaw tightened, his fingers curled into fists. He had had enough. 00:17:08 Speaker 3: Tear them down. 00:17:09 Speaker 1: Burn them all. His soldiers hesitated. These shrines had stood for decades. They had belonged to kings before him, to his father, his grandfather, and to Marka. Though she was his grandmother... So entrenched was her influence at court, she retained the title of Gebera, Queen Mother, over even Asa's own mother. And it was her pagan worship that polluted Israel. If Solomon's wives, especially Rehoboam's mother, Nehemiah, had cracked the door to idolatry in their lifetimes, then it was Macha who swung it wide open. The crackling of her staff against the stone ground announced her fury before her voice did. You disgrace your father, your grandfather. You dare to destroy what they built? Aesir turned to her. His eyes were cold, unwavering. There was no fear in them, only resolve. They disgraced themselves. Maha staggered back as if he had struck her. Her fingers dug into her robes, her face scrunched with betrayal. No! 00:18:29 Speaker 4: No! 00:18:30 Speaker 3: Asherah! 00:18:32 Speaker 1: But despite her protestations, the first Asherah pole crashed to the ground. Splinters flew into the air. Soldiers seized the idols, dragging them toward the growing fire. The flames roared, devouring the wooden figures that had once been worshipped as gods. Smoke curled toward the sky, twisting, writhing, like the false deities themselves were screaming. Macha watched in horror, her power, her influence, her gods reduced to ash. He shattered the idols, purged the wicked priests. He restored the worship of Yahweh. And in Judah, there was spiritual reform. There was revival. Asa also ended the bitter wars of his father, defeating the Egyptians and outmaneuvering Barsha, the king of Israel. Instead of direct battle, he struck a clever alliance with the king of Damascus, forcing Israel into a long, costly conflict in the north, a thorn in their side for years to come. And for a time, the kingdom of Judah knew peace. But peace came with a warning. A prophet told Asa, do not trust in your own cleverness, trust in the Lord. And for a time, Asa did what was right in the Lord's sight. While young king Asa ruled Judah in peace, the north was crumbling. A prophet of the Lord came to Barsha, just as one had come to Asa. But like the kings before him, Barsha did not listen. And so power passed, like a curse, from one unworthy ruler to the next. Barsha's cruel, bloodstained reign lasted twenty-four years. When he died, His kingdom passed to his depraved son, Ella. But it would not last. Ella ruled for just two years. A drunken fool, he was assassinated in an inebriated stupor, killed by his own army commander, Zimri. But Zimri's reign was even shorter. Seven days. Seven days of blood and terror. He wiped out the entire house of Barsha, slaughtering every man, woman and child. But when his enemies closed in, Zimri chose fire over the sword. He set the palace ablaze, burning himself alive inside his own throne room. But the chaos was far from over. Zimri's suicide left a power vacuum that threw Israel into civil war, threatening to split the northern kingdom in two. But soon, A man would take the throne who would change everything. A man more ruthless, more cunning, more unshakable than those before him. A man who would seize a fractured kingdom and forge it into something far more dangerous. The land was torn. Israel devoured itself in war. Two kings had claimed the throne, Tibni and Omri. two factions split the kingdom, each clawing for control. Cities burned, fields were trampled beneath warring armies. The people cried for order, for an end to the chaos. And when the dust settled, after six years of civil war, only one name remained. Omri stood atop his horse, his armor streaked with dust and blood. Behind him, Tibni's broken body lay still. The last threat to his throne, gone. He had won, but victory was only the beginning. Omri was not just a soldier. He was a builder, a strategist, a king who would leave a lasting mark. He built a new capital in northern Israel, Samaria. a stronghold that would outlast him, a kingdom that would shape the future. But Omri's true legacy would not be in stone. It would be in his son, Ahab, a name that would become legend, a name that would become a curse. For it was said of him, he did more evil in the eyes of the Lord than any who came before him. Prince Ahab lounged on decadent pillows, draped in silks, a chalice of wine in his hand. His father's new palace rose above Samaria, a testament to power and wealth. Beautiful, strategic, unshakable. The palace dominated the land trade routes, filling Israel's treasuries and making them a desirable ally among the nations. One such ally was the king of Tyre, and with him, his beautiful, cunning daughter, Jezebel. Ahab watched lazily as his father perused parchments and correspondence from emissaries. At first, he paid no mind, until Omri's expression changed. A greedy smile curled on the old king's lips. Intrigued, Ahab called over to him. 00:24:19 Speaker 2: Father? What is it? 00:24:23 Speaker 1: But Omri said nothing. He simply stood, walked to his son, and dropped a rolled parchment into his lap. Then he turned, moving to the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon, waiting. Ahab unfurled the scroll, his brows furrowing as he read aloud. 00:24:46 Speaker 2: Omri, king of Israel, my brother. May Baal's storm clouds bless your lands. Accept my daughter, a jewel of Tyre. 00:24:59 Speaker 1: The princess Jezebel, for your son Ahab. 00:25:04 Speaker 2: And let our houses be as cedars entwined. 00:25:09 Speaker 1: Ahab's brows lifted. Then his father's smile became his own. He stood, stepping beside Omri. and fixed his own eyes on the horizon. He could see it already, the riches, the power. An alliance with the king of Tyre, the ruler of the Sidonians, would bring Israel to new heights, and he, Ahab, would be at the center of it all. He and his queen, Jezebel, would shape the world to their liking. God's people had willfully torn their kingdom in two, Judah in the south, Israel in the north. They rejoiced in wickedness, indulging in the corruption of the world. The kings of both kingdoms clung to the fading glory of their forefathers, believing past favor with the Lord would shield them as they did what they pleased. But king after king, despite the warnings of prophets sent to turn them back, they led their people deeper into ruin. Their sin was dragging the nation closer and closer to the inevitability of divine judgment. But as the faithful God of Israel always did, when evil rose, he sent his messengers of truth, men who would offer a way out, A way to repent. A way to turn back from destruction. But the question remained. Would the evil kings of Israel heed their warnings? This Pray.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Gatina, Max Bard, Zach Schelleberger and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of The Chosen People, narrated by Paul Coltofianu. Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwald, Sylvia Zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Jr., Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Lashinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith. Written by Aaron Salvato, Brie Rosely and Chris Baig. You can hear more Prey.com productions on the Prey.com app, available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store. If you enjoyed The Chosen People, please rate and leave a review.