It’s time once again for Fun with Biblical Interpretation!

In this installment, we dive into the second chapter of the second book of Kings, specifically verses 23–24—everyone’s favorite tale of heavenly vengeance and wild animal attacks!

2 Kings 2:23–24 (KJV)

23 And he (Elisha) went up from thence unto Bethel: and as he was going up by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou bald head; go up, thou bald head.
24 And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the Lord. And there came forth two she-bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them.

Whoa. Pretty gnarly. But let’s back up and break this down.

This particular story stars Elisha, a well-known biblical prophet who moonlighted as a healer, miracle worker, and general curmudgeon. His temper may have been worsened by the fact that he was going bald and had a girl’s name. Understandably, these two issues likely contributed to Elisha’s inferiority complex.

For years, Elisha worked under Elijah—a name so similar that it probably caused no end of confusion among the less literate worshippers of The Angry Desert God. Rumor has it that God took Elisha’s hair just to help people tell them apart.

But I digress.

On this particular day, Elisha was heading up to the bustling metropolis of Bethel to take care of God’s business. Not being on a tight schedule, he may have indulged in some desert mushrooms along the way. Naturally, they were quite potent, and Elisha began experiencing visions involving fiery chariots and magic water. That’s one theory. The more official version is that when Elijah died, he passed on his divine powers to Elisha, who could now part and “heal” waters with a pinch of salt. That’s the version we’ll go with, just to stay scripturally sound.

As Elisha neared the city, a group of kids came out to greet him—by mocking his bald head. This was more than Elisha could handle. After a lifetime of ridicule and shampoo commercials he couldn’t relate to, this was the final straw. He wasn’t going to cry this time. He wasn’t going to walk away in shame. This time… he was going to teach those little bastards a lesson.

They picked the wrong prophet.

Elisha raised his hands to the heavens and, channeling his holy fury, called down a curse in the name of The Angry Desert God. Now, you might think God—being omnipotent and presumably busy—would take this opportunity to teach Elisha a little humility. Maybe remind him he’s supposed to be a man of peace. But no. God, ever the drama queen, decided to answer his prophet’s request.

Cue thunderclap. Enter: two she-bears.

These weren’t gentle, Yogi-style bears. These were Old Testament, claw-swinging, bloodthirsty she-bears. Before the kids could even finish their playground chant, the bears were on them—ripping, slashing, and tearing their tiny bodies apart like something out of a metal album cover.

Elisha watched as the carnage unfolded, perhaps with a little more satisfaction than one might expect from a man of God. When it was over, 42 children lay mauled by the instruments of divine wrath.

Satisfied, Elisha looked back up to the sky, gave God a grateful nod, and continued on to Bethel to spread more of that good ol’ biblical love.

The Angry Desert God saw this.
And He was very pleased.
Amen. ♥

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Wow! What a story! Angry gods, spiteful bald prophets, and wild animals that attack on command. I think I’ll be reading this one to my five-year-old at bedtime tonight.

Well, that’s all the time we have for this episode of Fun With Biblical Interpretation. But if you’re interested in more tales of divine vengeance, child murder, jealousy, and godly pettiness, I suggest you pick up a copy of The Holy Bible. You can probably find one at your local used bookstore for a couple bucks, or just wait until your next motel stay and snag the “complimentary” copy out of the nightstand drawer. Just make sure it includes the Old Testament—that’s where all the really good stuff is.

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Author: Nick Allison is just a banged-up Army Infantry vet. He lives in Austin, TX with his wife, their kids, and two big, dumb, ugly mongrel dogs. Don’t take anything he says too seriously—he’s just trying to figure out this ride we call existence like everyone else. Also, he enjoys writing his own bio in third person because, let’s face it, it probably makes him feel more important.