In the ancient city of Samaria, a dire famine gripped the people, as described in 2 Kings 6:24-31. The Aramean army, led by King Ben-Hadad, besieged the city, cutting off all supplies. A donkey’s head became so scarce that it was priced at eighty shekels of silver, while a small measure of dove’s dung cost five shekels. In the midst of this crisis, an awful story unfolds: two women, driven by starvation, made a pact to eat their own children in order to survive.
A shocking narrative reveals the depths of human desperation, the emotional turmoil that results from unimaginable choices, and the moral decay that emerges during times of great hardship.
It was impossible for Samaria to survive the siege. The Arameans’ blockade prevented food and resources from entering the city, and its stores dwindled rapidly. As a result of starvation, dignity and hope were stripped from every household. The physical toll was immense: weak bodies, hollowed faces, and an overwhelming sense of doom. People ate whatever they could find, whether it was scraps, refuse, or inedible substances such as dove’s dung.
It is important to note that hunger was not just a physical affliction for the two women at the core of this story, but it was also a relentless force that eroded their humanity.
It is difficult to comprehend the slow, torturous descent into starvation. When deprived of nutrition, the body deteriorates, muscles wasting away, and the mind becomes clouded by exhaustion and despair. For these mothers, watching their children suffer would have been unbearable. They would have felt helpless with every cry of hunger from their sons.
The emotional struggle was not solely about their own survival, but also about their primal instinct to protect their children – now pitted against the harsh realities of famine.
The two women made an unimaginable pact in the face of unrelenting scarcity: they agreed to kill and eat their sons, one after another, in order to avoid death. While the first woman fulfilled her part of the bargain, her son was consumed. However, when the second woman came to offer her child, she hid it, breaking the contract. As a result of the betrayal, the first woman appealed to King Joram, her voice raw with anguish. This was not only due to her loss, but also the injustice of killing and eating her son went unrecognized.
Imagine the emotional struggle between these two women. The first woman who sacrificed her child must have been overcome by grief, guilt, and the grotesque necessity of survival. The act of killing her own son would have shattered her soul, leaving her to grapple with a haunting question: was survival worth such a cost? Meanwhile, the second woman faced her own devastation.
In spite of feeling the crushing burden of starvation, her initial agreement reveals a flicker of maternal instinct overriding the pact, suggesting that she, too, felt the crushing weight of starvation. It was both a betrayal and a desperate attempt to cling to some remnant of morality that she decided to hide her son.
This story is a stark illustration of moral decay under extreme duress. The women’s pact was not created in a vacuum, rather it was the result of a society on the verge of collapse. The siege stripped away social norms, leaving only survival instincts. In terms of human values, love, protection, and sacrifice for the future, cannibalism represents a collapse of these values.
In spite of this, the women did not explicitly condemn the women, perhaps acknowledging that their actions were a result of circumstances beyond their control.
The emotional fallout for these women extended beyond the act itself. The first woman’s appeal to the king reflects not just her anger but her desperate need for justice in a world that had lost all sense of order. In 2 Kings 6:28, the woman reeks of betrayal and loss by saying, “Give up your son so we may eat him today, and tomorrow we will eat my son.”
The second woman, by hiding her son, might have preserved his life temporarily, but at the expense of her integrity and the trust between them. As a result of their choices, both women were left scarred, their humanity fractured.
King Joram was horrified by the first woman’s plea and vowed to execute Elisha because he blamed him for the city’s difficulties. However, the narrative shifts focus to Elisha’s prophecy of deliverance. This soon materialized when God caused the Arameans to flee, leaving their supplies behind. The famine was resolved, and food became abundant again (2 Kings 7:1-20). Nevertheless, this resolution may have come too late to heal the emotional wounds of the two mothers.
This tragedy underscores the lack of closure for the women. Was the first mother able to find any peace after the famine ended, or was she forever haunted by the death of her son? Did the second mother and her son survive, or did guilt and fear consume them? These questions are left unanswered by the text, emphasizing how desperation can lead individuals to commit even the most unthinkable acts, eroding a community’s moral fabric.
As much as a historical anecdote, the story of the cannibalistic mothers serves as a mirror to the extremes of human experience and forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about survival, morality, and societal norms. As a result of their emotional struggle, the women demonstrate the devastating impact of crisis on the human psyche, caught between their love for their children and their instinct to survive.
In light of their story, we should consider how far we may go when pushed to the brink and whether redemption is possible in the wake of such a moral collapse.
Although the siege of Samaria was lifted in the end, the scars of those dark days lingered in our minds. The mothers’ pact, conceived out of desperation, stands as a haunting testament to the lengths humans will go to survive and the emotional toll such choices can have. Although their story is brief, it echoes through time, encouraging us to consider compassion, resilience, and the delicate line between humanity and survival.
