Her story:
I heave a heavy sigh every time I turn over this young woman’s card. The story of Jephthah’s Daughter is excruciating, impossible-to-fathom, and yet, when we dig deep, full of profound inspiration. Here’s ‘goes:
This young girl’s father is a celebrated war hero, recruited once again to bring victory to the Israelite people. He is a bit resistant, but finally agrees. A bit arrogantly (in my opinion) he claims victory before ever leaving home and prays to his god saying, “If you give the Ammonites into my hands, whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return in triumph will be the Lord’s, and I will sacrifice it as a burnt offering.” (I know: ridiculous.)
When he returned home in Mizpah, who should come out to meet him but his daughter, an only child. When he saw her, he tore his clothes and cried, “Oh no, my daughter! I am devastated. I have made a vow to the Lord that I cannot break.”
“My father,” she replied, “you have given your word to your God. Do to me just as you promised but grant me this one request: Give me two months to roam the hills and weep with my friends, because I will never marry.” “You may go,” he said.
So she and her friends went into the hills and wept. After the two months, she returned to her father, and he did to her as he had vowed. (from Judges 11)
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Pretty dark, yes? This is one of a handful of stories that I consider no longer telling because I am unwilling, in any way, to highlight or remotely condone violence against women. Still . . . to not tell of her feels like a different kind of violation and violence. She deserves to be known, heard, and honored. And so . . . I continue to speak of her and for her.
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What are we to make of this? How are we to find any kind of relevance, let alone healing and hope within such a story? I have a few thoughts.
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