THOU SHALL NOT BE VIOLENT
(Law and Grace - The 6th Commandment)
There is something in human nature that is drawn to a spicy scandal or by a violent act. Millions will tune in to exclusive interviews with the criminals or buy best-sellers which give people’s inside stories with the dirty details. All this is not unexpected because of our fallen nature. What is disturbing is that we cannot escape its presence, even when we turn to the Bible for refuge.
Contrary to popular belief, the Bible’s narrative is not the corrective to the horrors of the world, though its message is. Instead, atrocities fill the narrative pages of the Bible, at times so revolting that even today they create a nauseating sensation. Judges chapter 19 did this to one of my friends. She questioned the wisdom of including it in the Bible: “It is rather awful and perhaps too sickening a story to start with. It turns the stomach. I didn’t want to read on - she said. Every time I read the Bible, I skip those stories…”
Then why, might one ask, were uncensored stories of genocide, murder, rape, and incest allowed to form a part of God’s holy word? Why were they not deleted from the holy book. Why the Holy Spirit didn’t use a marker and black out all crimes and swear words, and sexually language? Can we read the Bible and escape the story of David’s adultery with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah, her husband? Then there is the story of Jacob’s sons who murdered a whole village because one of its men raped their sister… Or the command: “Go destroy such and such city and kill them all, men, women, children”…
And something else - God’s apparent silence in the face of those evil atrocities. It is God’s apparent and disturbing inaction that has been most puzzling to me, as it has to many others. It seems inexplicable that God should fail to intervene, even at the expense of scandalizing His own name. Reading strange stories in the Bible, in search of an answer that will lead us to find some answers in God’s dealing with human despair and suffering. We need to read those stories in the light of the cross. The New Testament tells the story of what He has done to set things right.
I have chosen to deal with the tragic story from Judges 19, not because of its sensationalism, but because it best illustrates what has been most perplexing to us: God’s silence. One cannot read it without cringing or asking the age-old question: why does God stand by, while innocent people suffer and die. The fate of that woman from Judges 19 proves that the Bible has not been sanitized. Indeed, God does not look good in this story, mainly because He didn’t appear at all.
THE LONG NIGHT> She spent her childhood in the hill country of Judaea, in the city made famous one thousand years later by the birth of the Child that was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.
She lived at a time when most men had more than one wife, and when sons had a lot more going for them than daughters. When the time came for her to marry, her future was cemented into the pattern established by tradition.
Her husband had a wife already, perhaps several, making her a kind of a concubine or associate wife, an inferior role with little security and recognition. The arrangement was perfectly legal, as it still is in Muslim countries. Nobody asked her about: she was expected to obey…
Childbearing and daily hard labor were the main ingredients of her life... Somehow things did not work out. A number of Bible versions prefer the translation that ’she was unfaithful to him’ (Judges 19:2, NIV), an unlikely scenario in view of events to come. Marital unfaithfulness by a woman meant death sentence.
If unfaithfulness had been the problem, the husband would have set off to execute her rather than to get her back. The story clearly makes her the hurt party. For that reason, I like better the translation of the Good News Bible, which says that ’she became angry with him’.
We may safely assume that her disappoint¬ment was grave. Few women did what she did. Although her options were limited, she had the courage and independence to match her shattered expectations. One day she slipped away from her new home and returned to her father’s house.
The husband ’decided to go after her and try to persuade her to return to him’ (19:3). We can only guess at his motive. There is nothing in the story to suggest that he was moved by genuine love. Her running away had shamed him in the eyes of the village and deprived him of her services.
On his arrival in Bethlehem, the girl showed her husband, who was a member of the priestly tribe, into the house, and her father gave him a warm welcome. He appeared to take the side of the husband rather than of his daughter. Perhaps he, too, had vested interests, or perhaps he was merely realistic on her behalf. Fences were mended quickly. The negotiations that took place gave her a marginal role. On the surface, tranquillity was restored.
At that point forebodings of trouble intruded. The couple’s departure was plagued by delays. Three days passed, clearly more than the husband had intended to spend. On the fourth day they woke up early, determined to start the trip back home, but the concubine’s father had other plans.
He said to his son-in-law, ’ "Have something to eat first. It will do you good. You can go later,"’ (19:5.) The meal, which was not a rushed affair, did not include the daughter. This was a man’s world, and the two men who were closest to the woman seemed to have little thought of her welfare. ’"Early in the morning of the fifth day he started to leave, but the girl’s father said, Eat something, please. Wait until later in the day. So the two men ate together". (19:8.) Why the father would say that, is a great mystery.
Under the pretext of hospitality, the woman’s father was the chief cause of the delay, and the daughter was caught in the tug-of-war between an insensitive father and an irresolute husband.
…At last they were off, two men, the woman and two donkeys, trying to make up for the lost hours by hurrying.
Nightfall was approaching in threatening, hostile surroundings. As they were passing Jerusalem, the servant had caution and safety in mind when he suggested, ’ "Why don’t we stop and spend the night here in this Jebusite city?"’ (19:11) But unwilling to listen to the prudent suggestion, the master said, ’ "We’re not going to stop in a city where the people are not Israelites. We’ll pass on and go a little farther and spend the night at Gibeah or Raman."’ (19:12,13)
At sunset they arrived in what he hoped would be friendly territory in the town of Gibeah, which belonged to the Israelite tribe of Benjamin. There they wanted to spend the night. As they sat down in the village square, they sensed that things might not go as planned because ’no one offered to take them home for the night’ (19:15).
Anyone with some knowledge of Middle Eastern culture will know, this treatment was without precedent. The village in our story had lost its natural, native hospitality. It was a dangerous place, and the rumour of its character was known.
The town’s striking indifference to the travellers’ dilemma demonstrated a flaw that pervaded the whole community. The fact that the man was a Levite implied that he did not have the means to provide for himself, and thus would burden his host. But not there…
Only one man stood apart. The old man said, "You are welcome in my home! I’ll take care of you; you don’t have to spend the night in the square." So he took them home with and they had a meal.’ (19:20-21.) Things had worked out after all. In the pleasant company of their host, courage revived and they relaxed. But the trouble was far from over. They were enjoying themselves when all of a sudden some sexual perverts from the town surrounded the house and started beating on the door. They said to the old man, "Bring out that man that came home with you! We want to have sex with him!"’ (19:22.)
Nothing happens in a Middle Eastern village that is not instantly known throughout the community. The arrival of the strangers in the village was not unnoticed. Not only had the community lost the hallmark of the traditional values of the region, but they had also adopted perverted behaviors that violated the most elementary moral standards. Several hundred years earlier, in the days of their forefather Abraham, the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of similar degrading practices. But the memory of Sodom did not deter them…The text says that the villagers started beating the door, and that the knocking grew louder and louder.
The pleas of the old man, who was not a native of the village, were no match for the aggression and persistence of the villagers. Seeing their determination and the growing danger to the whole household, he at last resorted to a tactic of appeasement:
"Look! Here is his wife and my own daughter, who is a virgin. I’ll bring them out now, and you can have them. Do with them whatever you want. But don’t do such an awful thing to this man!" (19:24). I am stunned by the terms of this offer… By his standard, sacrificing a virgin daughter and the wife of his guest was the lesser evil. To let the man bear the brunt of their attack was unthinkable. At any rate, negotiation made no difference because ’the men would not listen to him’.
Then the guest, who had spent so much effort in order to win back his wife, attempted to calm tempers by surrendering his wife to the mob, ’So the Levite took his concubine and put her outside with them.’
Here the English translations has downplayed a feature that might explain why she had left him in the first place. The original text says that the husband had to take her by force, overcoming her active resistance, literally seizing her before he could get her outside. The Hebrew verb translated “took” is "chazaq". It signifies “to seize,” or “to take by force.” (The Seventh-day Adventist Bible Commentary vol 2, Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Publishing Association)
This husband was no loving protector, determined to defend his wife at any cost. She did not volunteer to substitute for him as the prey of the mob. ’They raped her and abused her all night long and did not stop until morning.’ (19:25.)
She pleaded for mercy, merely to discover that it made them even more cruel. She screamed in pain, but no one cared. If the experts are right, that rape is a crime of aggression rather than of sexuality, her pain simply reinforced the aggressors’ sense of superiority. All night long… and God seems to be silent. Where are you God? Don’t you see this crime? Why don’t you intervene?... …Darkness is the element of evil, and at the first glimmer of dawn the attackers retreated leaving the victim on the ground, shivering in the cold night air.
The early morning dew provided no balm for her injuries. Slowly she inched her way towards the house. Each little gain cost infinite effort, demanding that she stop to rest before crawling forward again. During the night she had prayed for God to intervene and free her from the mob. At daybreak she whispered for mercy of a lesser kind, pleading for strength to make it to the door before it was too late.
But her prayers had gone unanswered. Nothing had happened to restrain the attackers. They had gone about their business undisturbed. No voice from heaven had interrupted their callous assault. The moment of deliverance had never come. Her last desperate struggle ended in utter loneliness.
The house lay quietly before her. There was no vigil behind the curtains; the husband and the host were sleeping comfortably inside as she finally reached for the door. She was unable to open it from outside. Inside, the husband and his host were insensible to her fate. As the sun rose above the horizon, her body language told the story of the impossible effort. ’At dawn the woman came and fell down at the door of the old man’s house, where her husband was. She was still there when daylight came,’ (19:26.) And there she died, of exhaus¬tion, injuries and exposure, her hands stretched out towards the door.
’Her husband got up that morning, and when he opened the door to go on his way, he found his concubine lying in front of the house with her hands reaching for the door.’ (19:27.) He betrayed no sense of loss, outrage or anger. It appears that the events of the night had not disturbed his sleep. He was ready to proceed with his journey as though nothing had happened. ’He said, "Get up, let’s go." But there was no answer.’ (19:28.) At last he understood why. She was dead.
He did not seem to reflect on his own role in her demise as he prepared to complete the trip, but the remainder of the story shows a little flicker of emotion on his part. That same morning he hurried to his home, his deceased wife lying limp across the back of one of his donkeys. Once home, he got a knife, cut his concubine’s body into twelve pieces, and sent one piece to each of the twelve tribes of Israel (19:28, 29).
In the hour of crisis he retreated in cowardly self-interest, ignoring his wife’s pleas and struggle to escape, throwing her outside by force. At last he sought redemption in this strange reaction. His message was not without its effect: ’Everyone who saw it said, "We have never heard of such a thing! Nothing like this has ever happened since the Israelites left Egypt! We have to do something about this! What will it be?"’(19:30.)
Motivated more by the excesses of spiritual and social decay than by a genuine desire for change, the whole nation proceeded to make amends in ways that further demonstrate their lack of true insight. The story ends by stating that ’there was no king in Israel at that time. Everyone did just as he pleased.’ (21:25.)
This story refutes the widespread notion that the Bible falls short of contemporary concerns. The tragedy did not happen in the dark alleys of a modern city. This is gang rape in the Bible, not Bosnia or Bronx. The story confirms many of the nagging doubts of this century: Cruelty triumphs without any restraint or any occasion for redress. The inhumanity of man towards man cries out in a way that has not been surpassed in modern times.
God is conspicuous by His silence. The report of what happened is presented without any commentary that could diminish its impact. Perhaps that is the point. It is a representative story of the human condition, relevant precisely because it has no redeem¬ing qualities.
In whatever way it falls short of our expectations in terms of providing a sense of meaning, an assurance of the love of God, and the consolation that justice will triumph in the end, it measures up to a reality with which people are familiar.
The fate of this women touches the most troubling question of our modern time. Nobel Prize winner Elie Wiesel describe the most traumatic memory of his life, a scene from the year 1945, when he and his family were sent to the concentration camp by the German military machine.
"As the sea of people drifts by I see for the last time a mother and her little daughter, ghostly silent and introverted,’ wrote Wiesel. ’I see them walk away, hand in hand, closely entwined. I will continue seeing them in my mind’s eye as long as I live, how they disappear. (Ellie Wiesel - The Night) The mother was his mother, too, and the daughter was his little sister, disappearing from view and for ever lost to him in the extermination camp at Auschwitz. He, too, had experienced at first hand God’s inaction in the face of injustice and His appar¬ent indifference to human suffering.
’The Eternal, Lord of the Universe, the All-Powerful, was silent’ he protested in his book, The Night. He expressed the feelings of countless defenseless victims who pleaded for a hand to intervene and deliver them from the evil they did not have the means to escape. To find the story from Judges 19 in a book that is supposed to tell about God, suggests that the Bible presents the evidence fairly and in an unbiased manner. During a long, chilly night in the hills of Judaea, a young woman was deserted by her husband and sexually abused to death by people, people who had been chosen from among the nations of the world to safeguard a knowledge of God. It’s a story of our fallen human nature, a story revealing what people who chased away the presence of the Holy Spirit, can become. Beasts…
"When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slaughtered for the word of God and for the testimony they had given; they cried out with a loud voice, “Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the earth?” Rev 6:9-10 Do you thing that all heavenly angels watching theat women being raped all night long and killed in agony, were not disturbed, were not shocked, were not crying? Do you thing that God was changing the channel, watching some comedy instead of hearing that woman cry for help? Did He suffer too?
It was no other way… (EXTRAPOLATE…) Lord, how long will until you judge and revenge our blood?” "Do something, God! Have you been there begging Him, have you? And it seems that what we are "begging" for would be such an easy thing for God to do! "God! Split the heavens and come down! Manifest Yourself some way! Do what only You can do!"
God didn’t "split the heavens and come down" as His only Son was tortured horribly, whipped unmercifully, crucified, and gasped futilely for air. And He saw. He was watching everything that happened. Why, oh why, did He not burst forth from Heaven and consume with fire those who were mocking Jesus? (EXTRAPOLATE THE IDEA...)
We didn’t know what God had in mind that dark day on Calvary’s hill. He was fulfilling the plan that had been set in motion before the foundation of the earth. He was making a way to reveal Lucifer true character and what his rebellion will do…
Trusting God when we are hurting, when we are grieving, when we see havoc all around us - that isn’t easy to do. But that is all part of His plan for us. Would we have realized our need for Him unless we had suffered? No. Suffering is part of His plan. He knows that when we have exhausted all other avenues for comfort and have no other comfort than His, we find His comfort is sufficient. He did not spare His own Son...
Only when we are engulfed in grief and have no other recourse but to turn to Him we find that as we turn to Him, our grief ebbs. And this is all a vital part of redemption’s amazing story.
CALL.Redemption from death and hell is unfathomable grace, yes, but redemption from the hell on earth is also unfathomable grace. (Extrapolate... and underline Jesus as Prince of Peace...)
(Thank you, Sigve Tonstad, for your inspired material!)
