Sunday, August 18, 2013
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Judges 11:29-40
Trey Sullivan
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Originally, Andi and I were supposed to tell this story together. Can you imagine how cute that would have been? We had even decided on what outfits we would wear… Unfortunately, Andi got the dreaded NoraVirus from one of our beautiful nieces, and she’s still contagious. She has suffered all week, and is just now feeling better. So that’s good. I bet you’re wondering how I spent all that time with her and never caught the virus…well, I’ll tell you. I made a vow to God – the first person I see on Sunday morning, I will offer that person to God as a…No no, I didn’t do that. I just drank a lot of Target brand Airborne and washed my hands every five seconds. So I’m doing okay.
“Mom, if you let me watch TV for five more minutes, I promise I’ll clean my room. Dear, I’m so exhausted. If you do the dishes tonight, then I’ll do them the rest of the week. Ok ok ok ok, son, if you stop crying and ruining everyone else’s evening, then I’ll give you some fruit snacks when we get in the car…”
I bet you’ve all said something like that. We’ve all made vows. We’ve all tried to bargain with someone else. Everyone of us, whether out of a panicked feeling of desperation or out of a pure desire to please God or a significant other, has made a vow. Now, it would be nice to keep this surface level and to keep laughing – like an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. Yes that would be nice. But his this is not Tuesday night reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond. This is Sunday morning texts of terror from the book of Judges…, and as my mother might say, “You’re gonna sit there and listen, and you’re gonna like it!”
Well, we are here today. I hope that you have come expecting to hear from God. I hope you have come to lay your burdens at the altar. I hope you have come to find a reminder that you are not alone in this world, no matter how lonely you feel. I hope you have come to sing and worship God in spirit and in truth. I hope that you are here echoing the words of the disciples, “Lord where else can we go? You have the words of life!” Though it doesn’t matter too much to me why you came to this place, I am, however, glad you are here. You know, we’ve learned a lot in the last three weeks about men and how terrible they are…oh, oops, I meant to say, the Men of Judges.
We’ve learned a lot about the Men of Judges. We know that these stories take place between the life of Moses and Joshua and the Canaanite conquest and the establishment of the Monarchy…And we know that these stories were written down during the Babylonian Exile. At this point in the series, you can probably recite the repetitive pattern in the book of Judges: Israel does evil in the sight of the Lord by serving other gods; God sends an enemy; Israel cries in distress; God sends a judge or deliverer; Israel again does evil and the cycle repeats. This cycle is most clearly highlighted in chapter 2:11-19.
Today we’re talking about Jephthah. This is truly a tragic story that begins with a land dispute that leads to war and ends with the sacrifice of our main character’s only child. Jephthah’s story begins the third and final phase of the main body of the book of Judges – roughly from the beginning of chapter 11 to chapter 12:7. Today, however, we will focus mainly on 11:29-40. The book of Judges has a basic three-part structure: two prologues at the beginning, 13 chapters of individual Judge stories that go from mildly hopeful and exciting to bad to worse to worst and then to something worse than worst, and finally a double epilogue at the end. At the beginning of the main body we find faithful and victorious Judges who rule with wisdom and strength. (Othniel, Ehud, Deborah, and Barak).
Then Gideon and Abimelech show up and the party is basically over at that point. Everyone’s gone home. And you’re thinking, not another story of deception and murder…In these two characters we begin to see continuous religious idolatry and selfish acts of violence that are not only aimed at outsiders but also at other Israelites. So you can see that this is getting pretty bad. That brings us to Jephthah and Samson. With these two characters we find a widening distance from God and an obvious inability to unite Israel – which is the basic mission of the warrior ruler. Key theme in the Jephthah narrative is the snare of human language that leads to death. “Jephthah” means “he opens” and the climax of the story is when he utters a terrible vow – one that costs him his link to the future. At every point, Jephthah’s story represents a degradation from previous stories.
So let’s jump in to the story. Just before Chapter 11 begins, we have a war scene. Israel has been oppressed and crushed by the Ammonites for the past 18 years. There are traces of violence everywhere. The Ammonites are camped in Gilead and the Israelites are camped in Mizpah. The commanders of the Israelite army look around and notice they do not have anyone to lead them into battle against the Ammonites. If you ask me, I think they deserve to lose the war because that seems like something you should notice before you start rallying the troops…you know what I mean??? So they said, “Who will begin the fight against the Ammonites?” Basically, who will be our judge? Who will lead us? And in classical biblical fashion, the most unlikely person comes to the forefront of the story – and in our case, it’s the family outcast.
In the opening line, we learn that Jephthah’s father is Gilead, that his mother is a nameless prostitute, and that he is a mighty warrior. In familiar fashion, he is banished from the family by his brothers. Based on who his mother was and probably fueled by greed and lust, the brothers didn’t deem him worthy to receive a portion of the inheritance. So he flees to a place called Tob and eventually joins up with some bandits. They went around raiding. And that’s what Jephthah did for a while. Then the Ammonites make war against Israel. The elders of Gilead (and according to Jephthah’s response these are the same selfish brothers who rejected him), the elders came to Jephthah and pleaded with him to be their commander so they could defeat the Ammonites. Eventually with the proof of the Lord’s favor, he is made commander of the people. God fades into the background. For the most part, for the rest of the story.
What follows is a series of extended negotiations between Jephthah and the Ammonite king. They argue about land possession and scribal accuracy, and conclude that they will let the Lord decide. Then, after the spirit of the Lord came upon Jephthah, we come to the chilling climax. Unlike the other stories in the book of Judges, the highlight does not come in the form of a victory. No. It comes in the form of a foolish, and what some scholars call “unfaithful” vow. Jephthah says to the Lord, “If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whoever (the NIV reads “whatever”) whoever comes out of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious from the Ammonites, shall be the Lord’s, to be offered up by me as a burnt offering.” God does as Jephthah requests. Jephthah’s army defeats the Ammonites, and he returns home.
We feel okay right now. We have a little faith in Jephthah. We expect the sacrifice of a bull or goat. But that is not what happens. As was Israelite custom, Jephthah’s only child, a daughter, comes to meet him with dancing. And it gets worse. He then blames the daughter for bringing this trouble upon him. His self-centered character is highlighted here. Out of what is perceived as pious devotion to the Lord or to her father, the daughter dutifully accepts her fate with one request. She asks for just two months to wander in the wilderness with her companions to grieve her virginity. She does so and returns to her father. And the text says that he “did to her according to the vow he had made.” And that’s the end of Jephthah’s story.
I don’t know what you are feeling after hearing this story. I imagine that you are feeling some anger. Anger around the fact that God didn’t stop Jephthah from murdering his daughter like God did in Genesis 22 when he kept Abraham from sacrificing Isaac. Or maybe sadness about the way women are portrayed in this story and how they are abused and oppressed all around the world. Maybe you are sitting there scratching your head wondering why in the world that story is in our sacred text? If you’re really into Family System’s Theory, you might read this as a classic story of subconscious familial enmeshment. You might see God as an abusive, absent Father figure. Maybe you are baffled by God’s silence. You might be asking why God would allow something like that to happen? You might be experiencing this story as a commentary on any relationship where abuse and manipulation exist. You might be wondering if Jephthah actually followed through with his vow? Did he really kill her or did he offer her up to God to remain a virgin and serve God through chastity? I’m feeling some serious tension. Some paradox. Some contradiction. This story just doesn’t sit right. Like Rachel said, there is a serious mix of virtue and vice here. We simply cannot wrap this story up with a bow and put it on the mantle next to faded pictures of grandma and grandpa. Or maybe you might be thinking about the times when you have made a promise or vow to God and God didn’t follow thorough.
Why do we feel the need to plead and bargain with God and with one another? Why do we say things like, “God if you just help me get an A on this test, then I promise I’ll go to church every Sunday.” Or, “God, if you just help me lose some weight, then I promise I’ll give you all the glory in my life.” Or, “God if you heal my dad, I promise I’ll be the person I’m supposed to be…I promise I’ll live the way I’m supposed to…God if you heal my marriage, I promise I’ll quit looking at other women that way….Please God. Please God…I need some help here. I can’t make it on my own. Maybe we do it because we need a reminder that God is there. That God cares. That we are not alone.
It is easy for us, at a safe distance, to judge and condemn what happens in the text and to remove ourselves from the narrative. Of course I am not condoning human sacrifice, and I am not ignoring God’s silence. However, my hope in the telling of these stories is that you will be able to see more clearly into your own life. Your own murderous, unfaithful and shameful tendencies. And your potential for faithful love and devotion to God, yourself, and others. At the very least these texts remind us that even when we think we have God figured out, we don’t have a clue. In the telling of Jephthah’s story, we have an opportunity to claim power over and responsibility for our lives, for our sins, for our faithfulness and love. I suggest that you go home and wrestle with this text. Wrestle with God over it. Talk to one another. Ask questions. Yell if you need to. God can handle it.