The daughter of a judge named Jephthah was killed as a human sacrifice because of a careless promise to God. She is a symbol for all the courageous daughters of faithless fathers. (Judges 11)

Transcript

I will conclude our six-week series called “When Love Hurts: Christian Perspectives on Domestic Violence”

We have heard three horrific stories from texts of terror.

• The first was Hagar, the slave who was used, abused, and rejected by Abram and Sarai

• The second was Tamar, the princess who was raped and discarded by Amnon, her brother

• The third was the unnamed concubine, who was raped, murdered, and dismembered by a gang of Benjemites and a Levite.

Our last story today – Jephthah’s daughter – a virgin slain and sacrificed by her father.

We will read the majority of the passage to honor Jephthah’s daughter. As I read, I will provide some observations and interpretations along the way. Let’s read Judges chapter 11,

1 Jephthah the Gileadite was a mighty warrior. His father was Gilead; his mother was a prostitute. 2 Gilead’s wife also bore him sons, and when they were grown up, they drove Jephthah away. “You are not going to get any inheritance in our family,” they said, “because you are the son of another woman.”

Jephthah was from the tribe of Gilead, which is also a part of the Tribe of Israel, descendants of Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham. And although Jephthah was strong and mighty, his greatest flaw was his parents; therefore, he suffered for the sins of his parents.

The dysfunction in his parents tarnished Jephthah’s identity leaving him feeling humiliated and broken, losing face in the community. “Poob ntsej muab tag.” If you’re Hmong or of Asian descent, you may have felt, seen, or heard this in your own family.

3 So Jephthah fled from his brothers and settled in the land of Tob, where a gang of scoundrels gathered around him and followed him.

4 Some time later, when the Ammonites were fighting against Israel, 5 the elders of Gilead went to get Jephthah from the land of Tob. 6 “Come,” they said, “be our commander, so we can fight the Ammonites.”

Now, the Ammonites were a neighboring tribe and an enemy of the Tribe of Israel, therefore, an enemy of Gilead too.

7 Jephthah said to them, “Didn’t you hate me and drive me from my father’s house? Why do you come to me now when you’re in trouble?”

8 The elders of Gilead said to him, “Nevertheless, we are turning to you now; come with us to fight the Ammonites, and you will be head over all of us who live in Gilead.”

Wow, this is every hero’s dream storyline, when people who doubt you come crawling back to ask for help. With pride and pain, Jephthah responds to their request with interrogation. But the elders are desperate and they are willing to resolve past conflict by making him the commander.

9 Jephthah answered, “Suppose you take me back to fight the Ammonites, and the Lord gives them to me—will I really be your head?”

10 The elders of Gilead replied, “The Lord is our witness; we will certainly do as you say.” 11 So Jephthah went with the elders of Gilead, and the people made him head and commander over them. And he repeated all his words before the Lord in Mizpah.

Pay attention. The elders of Gilead never specified that Jephthah had to win; he just had to join them. But Jephthah bargains with them by asking: If I beat the Ammonites with the help of the Lord, then I get to be your leader? With that, the elders reply, yes, whatever you say!

12 Then Jephthah sent messengers to the Ammonite king with the question: “What do you have against me that you have attacked my country?”

13 The king of the Ammonites answered Jephthah’s messengers, “When Israel came up out of Egypt, they took away my land from the Arnon to the Jabbok, all the way to the Jordan. Now give it back peaceably.”

In hearing this bit of history from the king, Jephthah decides to set the record straight by reminding the king what actually happened.

The reply is quite long, so I’ll paraphrase his response. Jephthah tells them: We did not take anyone’s land, and certainly not Ammonite land. When Israel left Egypt, we sent a message to each king asking for permission to pass through their land. But the kings wouldn’t let us come through. Israel was stuck in the desert and walked in circles around the land but never in it.

Eventually, another tribe ambushed and attacked Israel with their army. But GOD, the God of Israel, helped my people defeat the army and that’s how Israel took all the land. It was God, the God of Israel, who rescued his people; Who do you think you are to try to take it over? Does anyone win by opposing Israel? Also—it’s been three hundred years! Why didn’t you try anything before?

Then Jephthah ends his letter with these last words:

27 I have not wronged you, but you are doing me wrong by waging war against me. Let the Lord, the Judge, decide the dispute this day between the Israelites and the Ammonites.”

Now, this sounds hopeful. Jephthah is certainly well educated in the history of his people, and more importantly, he understands that the same God of Israel, who gave victory 300 years ago, is with him.

28 The king of Ammon, however, paid no attention to the message Jephthah sent him.

29 Then the Spirit of the Lord came on Jephthah. He crossed Gilead and Manasseh, passed through Mizpah of Gilead, and from there, he advanced against the Ammonites.

30 And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord: “If you give the Ammonites into my hands, 31 whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return in triumph from the Ammonites will be the Lord’s, and I will sacrifice it as a burnt offering.”

At the start of the battle, the Spirit of the Lord was with Jephthah, and what did he do? Instead of acting with courage and conviction, he responds with doubt and demand. At the center of the battle, Jephthah makes another bargain, urging God for victory. Jephthah becomes unsure of God’s help and insecure of his future. Just like that, Jephthah forgets that this battle and victory belong to God.

Dr. Phyllis Trible writes that Jephthah pleads for “Divine help that ironically is already Jephthah’s through the spirit of Yahweh. The making of the vow is an act of unfaithfulness.”

32 Then Jephthah went over to fight the Ammonites, and the Lord gave them into his hands. 33 He devastated twenty towns from Aroer to the vicinity of Minnith, as far as Abel Keramim. Thus, Israel subdued Ammon.

34 When Jephthah returned to his home in Mizpah, who should come out to meet him but his daughter, dancing to the sound of timbrels! She was an only child. Except for her, he had neither son nor daughter. 35 When he saw her, he tore his clothes and cried, “Oh no, my daughter! You have brought me down and I am devastated. I have made a vow to the Lord that I cannot break.”

In his moment of fearful weakness, Jephthah offers a sacrifice. Did he mean to sacrifice a human? A servant? Or an animal? Who did he think would meet him at his front door?

The ambiguous sacrifice in Jephthah’s vow is now clear. Jephthah’s daughter is his sacrifice. And the moment he sees his daughter, his lips are filled with blame because she comes out to meet him.

He tears his clothes, which is a sign of despair, grief, and mourning. But Jephthah mourns for himself, not for his daughter. Jephthah states: “You have brought me down” His despair floods his daughter—the victim—with blame.

36 “My father,” she replied, “you have given your word to the Lord. Do to me just as you promised, now that the Lord has avenged you of your enemies, the Ammonites. 37 But grant me this one request,” she said. “Give me two months to roam the hills and weep with my friends because I will never marry.”

38 “You may go,” he said. And he let her go for two months. She and her friends went into the hills and wept because she would never marry. 39 After the two months, she returned to her father, and he did to her as he had vowed. And she was a virgin.

From this comes the Israelite tradition 40 that each year the young women of Israel go out for four days to commemorate the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite.

I’ve read this story numerous times, and each time I am filled with disgust and anger against Jephthah. Dr. Phyllis Trible writes: “Faithfulness to an unfaithful vow has condemned its victim; father and daughter are split apart in deed and destiny. Though in anguish, he calls her ‘my daughter,’ he offers her neither solace nor release. … And through it all, God says nothing.”

Jephthah is a mighty warrior, but what I see underneath the tough exterior is a man with no reputation, making him prideful, faithless, and self-righteous.

He did everything in his might to gain pride, place, and power. Jephthah’s daughter died a premature death. She was young and a virgin, Jephthah’s daughter died a violent death. She was murdered and sacrificed by fire.

Jephthah’s daughter died a life with no heirs. She was a virgin, meaning she would be unremembered by her people and tribe. Neither God, nor man, nor woman intervened with the violence of the vow. How did Jephthah’s daughter spend her final days of life? She sought the fellowship of other women, not the company of her father, and with these women, they roamed the hills and lamented her virginity. The other women knew her tragedy and remembered her name and her life long after her death.

How did Jephthah spend his final days with his daughter? He also had two months, which gave him time to reflect and re-evaluate his duty as a father, but we know the conclusion to this story.

In the end, Jephthah was unchanged and unenlightened. His vow was a vow of faithlessness. He chose himself. He could have confessed that his foolish words were made in fear. But he didn’t.

In the book Spiritual Authority, Dr. Rob Reimer writes: “Your self-life is most strongly formed in your place of greatest wounding. The place where you were hurt the most growing up is the place where you fortified the strongest. You don’t have the ability to process the pain you experienced as a child, so you build emotional walls to protect yourself. This deep wounding is where we learn to become self-reliant, self-dependent, self-sufficient, self-centered, and self-pitying.

We often hear that parents and guardians live vicariously through their children. However, in light of this story, adults who are unaware of their wounding can take the joy from their child’s life to gain pride, place, and power… just… like… Jephthah.

In a moment here, I will read a parent’s prayer for their children. I invite mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and older siblings to participate. You may read it with me and pray this prayer for yourself. You may listen to it and reflect on the Lord's desire for you. Or you may receive it as a healing prayer from the pain of the past or parents.

O Father of humankind, who hast given unto me these my children, and committed them to my charge to bring them up for Thee, and to prepare them for everlasting life: assist me with Thy heavenly grace, that I may be able to fulfill this most sacred duty and stewardship. Teach me both what to give and what to withhold; when to reprove and when to forbear; make me gentle, yet firm; considerate and watchful; and deliver me equally from the weakness of indulgence, and the excess of severity; and grant that, both by word and example, I may be careful to lead them in the ways of wisdom and true pity so that at last I may, with them, be admitted to the unspeakable joys of our true home in heaven, in the company of the blessed Angels and Saints. Amen.

Dr. Phyllis Trible writes: “If art imitates life, scripture likewise reflects it in both holiness and horror. Reflections themselves neither mandate nor manufacture change; yet by enabling insight, they may inspire repentance. In other words, sad stories may yield new beginnings.”

In April, we will start Soul Care discussion groups. I have witnessed new beginnings and the power and presence of God.

Reading this book with others has transformed how I see God and community. I pray that you will step in courage and read Soul Care with us! Rob Reimer will also be here in June for the Soul Care Conference.

May we impart and imprint blessings for the next generation.