A blighted life

And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord: “If you give the Ammonites into my hands, whoever 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 him as a burnt offering.” Judges 11:30-31

He was a truly tragic character, was Jephthah. What this usually means in both history and literature is someone who not only experiences terrible misery him or herself, but who also brings it down on the heads of pretty much everyone else whose lives are intertwined with theirs (if you’re into Shakespeare, think Hamlet or Othello).

Jephthah’s tragedy climaxes in a rash vow he made (Judges 11:30-31). But the story of his blighted life in Judges 10-12 is dogged with pain and injustice. We can summarise it fairly quickly…

First, he was born into unhappy circumstances. His father was Gilead, who we might call a princeling in Israel. But he was born not to Gilead’s wife but to a prostitute. When other sons were born they rejected Jephthah because “you are the son of another woman” (verse 2). He was, then, the victim of cruelty, in effect made an outcast by his own family.

What was he to do? What choice did he have? He ran away and joined a lawless gang (verse 3).

This may remind us of young people in our modern world for whom home-life is impossible, or just intolerable, and who end up in gangs and in trouble with the police. While many foster-carers or adoptive parents do a wonderful job (thank God for them - how they need our prayers!) the inner scars and hurts may never fully heal. A poisonous plant of bitterness is hard to root out.

It's sometimes said – and surely rightly - that what matters most in life is not what happens to you, but how you react to what happens to you. But that’s easy to say when you have a stable and loving start in life; and it’s very easy to condemn those who lose their way. Do some of us need to take a look at our hard hearts? Are we guilty of indifference or self-righteousness?

Second, Jephthah probably thought his old life was gone for ever. But it seems he earned a reputation as a fighter and a leader of men, for – ironically – a situation arose where the people who had kicked him out began to realise they needed him after all: “the elders of Gilead (no doubt including some of his own blood brothers) went to get Jephthah… ‘Come’, they said, ‘be our commander, so we can fight the Ammonites’.” The boot, as they say, is on the other foot.

After some negotiation, Jephthah agrees. He then talks with the King of the Ammonites, which suggests he was a man of words as well as a man of deeds. But it’s all to no avail, and battle proves inevitable.

Third, it turns out that though his own family may have rejected him, God hasn’t, for we read in verse 29 the remarkable words that “the Spirit of the Lord came on Jephthah”. With our New Testament perspective we tend to associate the Holy Spirit with spiritual power and the proclamation of God’s word. But the events in Judges took place over  1000 years before Jesus, and the Spirit was simply not understood in the same way. He, or perhaps we should think of the Spirit at this time as “it”, granted all sorts of other skills as well, including military ones.

Fourth (however that may be), before battle is joined, the key moment of Jephthah’s life takes place: he makes a vow to God that if he defeats the Ammonites he will sacrifice by burnt offering “whoever comes out of the door of my house” on his triumphant return (verses 30-31). And that “whoever” turns out to be his unmarried daughter, his only child.

This, especially, is where we need to pause and think. Who hasn’t made a rash promise at some point in their life? Who hasn’t longed to turn the clock back and unspeak foolish words?

For us today it probably isn’t a “vow” in a formal sense – though it wouldn’t do any of us any harm to reflect a little on our baptismal vows (or equivalent) or, of course, on our marriage vows. Have we become careless? Has what was once solemn and deeply serious become a matter for shoulder-shrugging?

On a more day-to-day level, Jephthah’s folly raises issues of reliability. Are we people of our word? Do we throw off promises too casually? I remember someone who used to routinely round off a conversation with “Bye. I’ll give you a tinkle” (that’s a phone call, in case you didn’t know). That expression somehow used to grate on me and make me want to smash his teeth right down his throat (in Christian love, of course). Did he ever “give me a tinkle”? I’ll leave you to guess.

But who am I to speak? How often have I said to somebody in need “You’ll be in my prayers”, but neglected to remember them?

A big question… Should Jephthah have gone back on his vow? Surely yes (in spite of Deuteronomy 23:21-23). Human sacrifice is frequently condemned in the Old Testament, and to go ahead with it would only be to compound evil.

Fifth, as hinted earlier, Jephthah  brought down untold misery on the heads of many people: himself, his loyal and devout daughter (whose name isn’t even recorded!), and the people whose trust he commanded.

The message is clear: Think before you speak. Remember the warning of Proverbs 20:25: “It is a trap to dedicate something rashly and only later to consider one’s vows”. A trap indeed!

Dear Father, I look back with regret to promises I have broken, to pain and suffering I have caused through thoughtlessness, inattention and sheer stupidity. Please forgive me, and help me to absorb the tragic lesson of Jephthah. Amen.