Judges 10-11

Rags-to-riches stories abound in the annals of humanity, from Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale "Little Claus and Big Claus" and Charles Dickens's Pip of Great Expectations to the real world examples of Andrew Carnegie and, yes, Oprah. At first glance, the story of Jephthah looks like it's going to follow that pattern. Today he would be considered a--well, "illegitimate child" is perhaps the most polite way to put it. Spurned by his siblings and bereft of any inheritance, he apparently becomes a great warrior--so great that the elders of Gilead "stoop" to asking him to lead them against the oppressive Ammonites.

Jephthah, unimpressed, asks, "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?" (11:7). Suddenly, it's the elders who are now having to grovel before Jephthah. But if Jephthah had been expecting an apology, or at least an acknowledgment of his past mistreatment, he would have been disappointed--the elders, like the "best" politicians, brush off the questions with a dismissive "Nevertheless" (11:8). But Jephthah still contrives to get something out of this, calling on God as a witness to the promise that the elders will make Jephthah their head if he succeeds.

Before attacking, Jephthah considerately pens a nice, long missive to the Ammonite king (11:15-27), laying out logically, concisely, and respectfully the reasons why the Ammonites are basically in the wrong. Perhaps recognizing the sound logic and realizing that he can't legitimately argue against it, the king ignores the letter. Little did the Ammonite king know that he would be a precursor to certain YouTube commenters. Or rabid fanboys of the DC cinematic universe.

The "Sprit of the LORD" comes down on Jephthah before he goes off to kick the Ammonites' behinds, and all seems to be fine and dandy. But then Jephthah makes a vow that you just know will not end well: He promises to sacrifice as a burnt offering the first thing that comes out of his house to greet him (11:31).

Now, really. What did Jephthah expect? That his pet goat or ram would charge out of his house the moment he got home? Didn't he even consider the possibility that a human, one of his loved ones, might rush out to greet him first? Well, that's exactly what happens: Jephthah's daughter, his only child, comes out to meet her father, turning what should be a rapturous moment into a crushingly tragic one.

The daughter's response once she learns of her father's idiotically impetuous vow is heart-rending: Recognizing God's sovereignty, she promises to go along with the vow but wants two months to mourn. And there's no solace to be found in an Abraham/Isaac-like intervention from God. Jephthah "did to her as he had vowed" (11:39)--far more devastating and final irrevocable words than any vivid description.

I admit that this story, of an innocent girl dying for the foolish mistake of her father, gives me what some would call "the feels." The author adds that the daughter was a virgin (11:39), and knowing that girls were often married off at a very young age--I can hardly bear to think of the possible implications. I don't have any fuzzy moral to take from this, other than perhaps "Don't try to use God to accomplish your own selfish means" and "Don't make witless, vague vows to God." But perhaps it's important to remember that any bad decisions we make can have even worse effects on the people close to us.