I have selected five passages, three from the Old Testament and two from the New Testament, as examples of reading the Bible in each of the different ways discussed in "Ways of Reading the Bible: Overview." I offer only sample exegeses of these passages, not complete commentaries on all the relevant points in the verses covered. Furthermore, they should not be considered the definitive readings of these passages, only samples of how one might read them. James Sanders, in his book Canon and Community, says that certain literature became scripture in part because of its richness, or "multivalency," that is, its ability to sustain multiple valid interpretations in different settings. As you read these exegeses, think about how the particular method of reading influences the interpretation, and also think about how the method being illustrated might be applied to other passages of scripture.
One other item is important to note before we begin to read these passages. When we are reading a particular passage of scripture, it is important to focus completely on that passage and not call to mind other, perhaps more familiar passages, at least on our first reading. If the Bible is truly the word of God, then each part is capable of speaking with its own voice. If we're reading an Old Testament passage, we don't need to justify our understanding by citing a New Testament confirmation. If we're reading a passage from Mark, we don't need to supplement it from a parallel reading in Matthew; let Mark speak for himself. It is certainly permissible, and often valuable, to illuminate a passage by reference to another portion of scripture, and the canonical approach in particular uses this technique. However, we always need to remember which passage is our primary focus and which passages we are calling on only for support. If we will follow this principle--exegete the passage in front of you, not the passage it reminds you of--we will find riches hidden in plain sight.
The first reading is from Judges 11:29-40, the story of Jephthah and his daughter.
Jephthah faced a crisis. A former outcast, he was summoned by the elders of Gilead to lead the battle against the Ammonites. He wanted to ensure success against his enemies, so he made a rash vow to God. "If you'll give me victory over the Ammonites, whomever comes out of my house to meet me, I will sacrifice as a burnt offering." After God gave him the victory, he returned home, but to his sorrow, he was met outside his house by his daughter, his only child. In fulfillment of his vow, he sacrificed her to God. It was undoubtedly the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but, though we might disagree today, he felt it was his obligation to God. How firm is our faith in God? What are we willing to sacrifice for God? God doesn't call us literally to sacrifice our own children, but sometimes God's call forces us to make hard decisions that will negatively impact our families, at least in the short term. We might have to move to a different city, take a job that pays less, or work unusual hours in order to do God's will, as we understand it. For our families and friends, that also might entail sacrifice. Christians are called to surrender completely to God. Are we willing to do so?
Child sacrifice was a custom that was practiced in the ancient Near East, including the ancient land of Canaan. Several Old Testament passages refer to child sacrifice, as do Mesopotamian documents. The practice was explicitly forbidden in the Mosaic law, so the story of Jephthah's sacrifice of his daughter is clearly intended to shock the reader. Why would Jephthah fulfill such a stupid vow? The editorial framework of Judges is shaped to show the anarchy of the period of the Judges, "before there was a king in Israel, and everyone did what was right in his own eyes." From the viewpoint of the Deuteronomistic History, Jephthah's vow and its consequences illustrates the fact that ignorance of the Mosaic law permeated the pre-monarchic period. Jephthah's vow was foolish, and carrying it out, even in the name of fulfilling a vow, was tragic. God calls us to make wise decisions, but in order to make wise decisions, we first have to know the teachings of God, as revealed in the biblical text.
If this passage is read from a feminist perspective, the first thing to note is that it, like the rest of the Bible, was written by a man. The story reflects a strong patriarchal society in which the husband rules over the wife and children, especially the daughters. The voluntary, religious vow of a man takes precedence over the rights, even the very life, of the daughter. That Jephthah feels sorry for his daughter doesn't excuse his failure to break his vow, and risk God's wrath upon himself, rather than kill his daughter. In other words, Jephthah values his own life above that of his daughter. Men today who devalue women, or parents who devalue their children, follow in the footsteps of Jephthah. But far from receiving praise from God for fulfilling his vow, God is surprisingly silent. The Deuteronomistic editors were critical of Jephthah's vow in the first place, but do not explicitly condemn his execution of his daughter. The patriarchal system, which values males more than females, is alive and well in our world, and even more so in many of our churches. Jephthah's sacrifice of his daughter is wrong in many different ways, not least of which because it is based on the lie that women are inferior to men.
Reading the story of Jephthah and his daughter in the context of the canon offers some interesting perspectives on the story. Specifically, it is worthwhile to compare this story to the story of the Binding of Isaac in Gen 22 and to the story of the Passion of Jesus. In the Binding of Isaac, God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son. Abraham obeys, to the point of drawing his knife over his bound son, but God stays his hand, and Isaac's life is spared. In the Passion narratives, Jesus, the Son of God, is crucified, but God does not spare his life. The Binding of Isaac became a normative story in Judaism, expressing both Abraham's and God's faithfulness. The Passion of Jesus, when combined with the Resurrection, became a normative story in Christianity, expressing both Jesus' and God's faithfulness. On the other hand, the story of Jephthah and his daughter is regarded by most Jews and Christians as an aberration. What is different about this story from the other two in which parents sacrifice their children? The difference is that God asked Abraham for his sacrifice of his son, God offered God's own son on the cross on God's own initiative, but God did not ask Jephthah to sacrifice his daughter. Jephthah took the initiative to make the vow without divine prompting and carried out the sacrifice without divine sanction. For these reasons, Jephthah's sacrifice of his daughter was a tragedy rather than a triumph, as the sacrificial acts of Abraham and Jesus were.
Literature abounds with stories of unintended killings (as opposed to murders) or sacrifices within families. In Greek mythology, Thyestes and his brother Atreus were rivals for the throne of Mycenae. After Atreus discovered that Thyestes has seduced his wife, he killed Thyestes' two sons, cooked them in a pot, and served them as dinner to an unsuspecting Thyestes (hence the phrase "Thyestean feast," of which early Christians were accused by their opponents of engaging in, because of their references to the body and blood of Christ in the Eucharist). In Liam O'Flaherty's short story "The Sniper," a sniper in a battle between Irish Republicans and Free Staters spots an enemy sniper on the roof across the street. After narrowly avoiding being killed himself, he manages to kill his adversary, but when he turns over the body, he finds himself staring into the face of his own brother. In William Styron's book Sophie's Choice, the title character finds herself facing an unbearable choice in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. The guards demand that she choose between her son and her daughter which one will live and which one will die. If she chooses neither, then both will die. In a moment of insane grief, she makes her choice and watches one child led away to slaughter, while the other is raised as a Nazi. These stories shed light on the story of Jephthah and his daughter. First, Thyestes' own conniving against his brother showed that his desire for the throne was greater than his concern for the welfare of his family, and Jephthah seems to have acted out of similar motives. Second, the sniper was at war with one enemy but ended up killing a family member who was not his enemy, again similar to Jephthah. Sophie offers a contrast to Jephthah, for her choice was not voluntary. She and both her children were victims in different ways of Nazi atrocities. Jephthah's suffering was self-inflicted.
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© 2011, James R. Adair, Jr.