Monday, October 10, 2016

Judges 19

Have you ever seen a work of "art" with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever? I've seen plenty of bad movies, but many of them have at least one aspect, insignificant though it may be, that peeks its head out from the dreck surrounding it. For example, Batman v Superman and Suicide Squad were severe disappointments, but I could kind of see what the filmmakers were trying to do. Going back further, Inchon (released in 1981) is utterly wretched, but Jerry Goldsmith's masterful musical score is fit for a sophisticated war epic. Speaking of musical scores, I can think of a bunch of those that consist of cacophonous noise that adds little to, and in fact detracts from, their films: Battleship, the first Iron Man, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's scores to the otherwise superb films The Social Network, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Gone Girl, and the list goes on….

The Micah story had its fair share of disreputable and selfish characters, but Judges 19 takes depraved salaciousness to a whole new level. Basically, a Levite's concubine runs away to her father's house, is forced to go back with her husband, is raped to death in a Benjamite town, and finally has her body hacked into 12 pieces by her husband, with each piece going to a tribe of Israel. This story has no character with redeeming features that I can perceive.

I suppose the concubine's father doesn't do anything too objectionable. All he does is try to keep the Levite from leaving, saying "Oh, stay the rest of the day and have a bite to eat" and "Oh, it's getting late, why don't you just stay the night?" The Levite apparently isn't completely averse to spending time as a guest in his father-in-law's house, so he stays a few days until he decides that he should really extricate himself and go home. I do wonder why the concubine's father was so keen on having the Levite say forever and ever and ever. Perhaps he was just lonely?

In a bit of tragic irony, the Levite decides to avoid staying at the city of the foreign Jebusites, perhaps thinking that a city of Benjamites, his fellow Israelites, will be safer. Oh, how wrong he is. Yes, an old man takes him and his concubine in, but then the "wicked men of the city" (verse 22)--an understatement, if I ever saw one--clamor to commit unspeakable acts to the Levite. (This exchange is disturbingly similar to the one that took place with Lot and the men of God in Sodom.) The old man protects the Levite, which is all well and good--but he offers up the concubine and his own virgin daughter (verse 24)--so that the "wicked men" can do unspeakable acts to them instead! What kind of sense does that make? (Answer: None.) The daughter gets off scot-free (though she was probably none too happy with dear old Dad), but the concubine is not so lucky.

The abuse of the concubine is bad enough, but when it's over, she crawls to the house at daybreak--and it's not until daylight that the Levite decides to open the door and maybe check to see how she's doing. And when he sees her lying there, he curtly says, "Get up; let's go" (verse 28). I get that maybe he didn't love her and was salty at her for being unfaithful, but still--she's just spent a whole night being abused to the point of death. Shouldn't that merit compassion from anyone, even a complete stranger?

Of course, I can say all this and claim honestly that it affects me--but I know that analogous cases of abuse still occur with alarming frequency today. And yet, what am I doing about any of it? (Answer: Nothing.) I know all too well that I must be more proactive about the issues that God lays on my heart.

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