Have you ever encountered a Bible passage so disturbing that it made you question how it could possibly be considered "Holy Word"? As a pastor, I've wrestled with many difficult texts, but few are as horrifying as the story found in Judges 11:29-40. It's a story that leaves us feeling sick when we mutter "Holy Wisdom, Holy Word, Thanks be to God" after reading it. What wisdom? What word? What gratitude can possibly be offered?
When Scripture Demands Our Resistance
While it may be tempting to focus solely on scripture stories that uplift and comfort us, we have a moral duty to confront the entirety of scripture, including its most horrific parts, and trust that God continues to speak through it. I believe it's vital to acknowledge that saying "yes" to scripture isn't always a faithful response. Sometimes, a faithful response to a difficult text is to simply say "no." No, this was wrong. No, God does not endorse this. No, we will not excuse this violence.
The Disturbing Story of Jephthah and His Daughter
Jephthah was desperate for a win. As "the bastard child of his father's affair with another woman, likely a prostitute," he was disowned and despised by his half-brothers. When the Ammonites waged war against his tribe, his family suddenly needed him, and Jephthah saw an opportunity to regain status and power.
On his way to battle, Jephthah made a rash, impulsive vow: "If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then 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" (Judges 11:30-31). It must be noted that "God did not ask Jephthah to make this vow. Jephthah, and Jephthah alone, was the impetus of this horrific decision."
After winning the battle, Jephthah returned home only to see his daughter—his only child—coming to greet him with dancing. His response? Victim-blaming: "Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low; you have become the cause of great trouble to me" (Judges 11:35). This is "a common refrain for abusers in domestic violence situations. The abuser never takes responsibility or holds themselves accountable; instead, they manipulate the victim and gaslight them into believing that the violence is a punishment of their own making."
Naming the Unnamed
Following womanist scholar Wilda Gafney's lead, I choose to call Jephthah's unnamed daughter "Niqtelah," which means "she was killed" in Hebrew. Her namelessness in the story is itself an act of violence. After her father blames her for his actions, Niqtelah asks for two months to mourn with her friends before "the thing is done." Then Jephthah kills his daughter.
What Do We Do With This Text of Terror?
We cannot bury this story or pretend it never happened. "Burying these stories only perpetuates the very violence that repulses us in the first place." Instead, here are some pastoral observations:
Yesterday, while struggling to complete this sermon, my three-year-old daughter Winnie came to my office dressed in her ballet leotard. She shared her snack with me, and we ended up singing along to Journey's "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" together. Soon her sister Hazel Grace joined us, dancing along before they both crawled into my lap.
"I decided then and there to make a vow to God, a different kind of vow. I vowed to God to never use my religion to bring harm to either one of my daughters or anyone else. And I invite you to make that vow with me today. Because that's a vow I trust God wholeheartedly endorses."
Life Application: Breaking Cycles of Violence
When Scripture Demands Our Resistance
While it may be tempting to focus solely on scripture stories that uplift and comfort us, we have a moral duty to confront the entirety of scripture, including its most horrific parts, and trust that God continues to speak through it. I believe it's vital to acknowledge that saying "yes" to scripture isn't always a faithful response. Sometimes, a faithful response to a difficult text is to simply say "no." No, this was wrong. No, God does not endorse this. No, we will not excuse this violence.
The Disturbing Story of Jephthah and His Daughter
Jephthah was desperate for a win. As "the bastard child of his father's affair with another woman, likely a prostitute," he was disowned and despised by his half-brothers. When the Ammonites waged war against his tribe, his family suddenly needed him, and Jephthah saw an opportunity to regain status and power.
On his way to battle, Jephthah made a rash, impulsive vow: "If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then 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" (Judges 11:30-31). It must be noted that "God did not ask Jephthah to make this vow. Jephthah, and Jephthah alone, was the impetus of this horrific decision."
After winning the battle, Jephthah returned home only to see his daughter—his only child—coming to greet him with dancing. His response? Victim-blaming: "Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low; you have become the cause of great trouble to me" (Judges 11:35). This is "a common refrain for abusers in domestic violence situations. The abuser never takes responsibility or holds themselves accountable; instead, they manipulate the victim and gaslight them into believing that the violence is a punishment of their own making."
Naming the Unnamed
Following womanist scholar Wilda Gafney's lead, I choose to call Jephthah's unnamed daughter "Niqtelah," which means "she was killed" in Hebrew. Her namelessness in the story is itself an act of violence. After her father blames her for his actions, Niqtelah asks for two months to mourn with her friends before "the thing is done." Then Jephthah kills his daughter.
What Do We Do With This Text of Terror?
We cannot bury this story or pretend it never happened. "Burying these stories only perpetuates the very violence that repulses us in the first place." Instead, here are some pastoral observations:
- Just because a story is in the Bible doesn't mean God endorses it. "I believe that God gave a divine 'no' to Jephthah during the gap between making his vow and fulfilling it. I think Jephthah chose not to listen to God's 'no,' but instead listened to the voices in his head telling him that his political power was more important than his daughter's life."
- Religion can be weaponized. "Jephthah chose to manipulate his religion—not God's!—to gain power and privilege." Where do we see religion being weaponized today "not to serve neighbors but to dominate, intimidate, and oppress"?
- Bystanders share responsibility. "Where was everyone else when all this was happening?" The community knew what was coming, yet no one intervened. "All those who chose to keep silent share the blame as well."
Yesterday, while struggling to complete this sermon, my three-year-old daughter Winnie came to my office dressed in her ballet leotard. She shared her snack with me, and we ended up singing along to Journey's "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" together. Soon her sister Hazel Grace joined us, dancing along before they both crawled into my lap.
"I decided then and there to make a vow to God, a different kind of vow. I vowed to God to never use my religion to bring harm to either one of my daughters or anyone else. And I invite you to make that vow with me today. Because that's a vow I trust God wholeheartedly endorses."
Life Application: Breaking Cycles of Violence
- Examine your faith practices: Do they promote justice, love, and protection of the vulnerable, or do they perpetuate harmful power dynamics?
- Speak up: When you witness potential harm, don't be a silent bystander. Our church's child protection and sexual misconduct policies exist because we must "hold each other accountable so that we protect the vulnerable among us."
- Make better vows: Instead of manipulative promises to God for personal gain, commit to using your faith to protect, nurture, and bring healing to others.
- Recognize and resist religious manipulation: Learn to identify when scripture or religious authority is being twisted to justify harm or oppression.
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