Women with a Story to Tell: Women of the Tribes of Israel.

 The Book of Judges ends with a terrible story about a village within the tribal allotment of the Benjamin where the men demanded that a visiting Levite be brought out of a sanctuary house so that they can have intercourse with him (reminiscent of Sodom in an earlier generation). The master of the house pleads with them to show proper hospitality because “the man is my guest, do not do this vile thing.” Worse yet the man offers his virgin daughter instead. So much for the ethics of how one treats women in one’s care. Then the Levite shoves his own concubine out the door and into the grasp of the unruly crowd. In the morning, she is found lying dead on the doorstep (see Judges 19). No surprise, only sorrow for the lot of women.

 The Levite cuts up the concubine’s body and sends the parts to the other tribes along with the awful story of her demise. This sparks a civil war because the whole tribe of Benjamin decides to defend the men of Gibeah village. Question: When someone commits a crime, do we defend them because they are ‘our’ people? Conversely, do we falsely accuse others when we do not recognize them as ‘our’ people? We shouldn't, but we tend in that direction. Bad behavior is bad behavior, no matter who does it. God will not back anyone up or defend them in reckless anti-social behavior.

After two failed attempts, the allied troops of the other tribes drew the Benjamite soldiers out, swept in behind them and destroyed the town, killing everyone in it, including women and children. (See Judges 20). 

 On reflection, the allied tribes realized that they had created a problem. Only Benjaminite males, now captured, were left alive. Thus, a tribe of the people of Israel was in danger of disappearing. Here was the solution they hit upon.

 They discovered that one village among the allied tribes had not sent troops to the muster. So, they sent soldiers to the village, killed all the men, women, and children, except for the young girls who were yet virgins. These they gave to the remaining Benjaminites. (See Judges 21). We should have learned a long time ago that two wrongs don’t make a right. Yet we still let people defend a crime with a lie. 

 Still, it turned out that there were still not enough women to provide wives for every Benjaminite. So, they tried another solution, just as immoral as the first one. The men of the allied tribes had previously sworn a rash vow (remember Judge Jephthah) that no one would give their daughters to the Benjaminites in marriage. They were stuck. The solution, as is often the case, was to twist the law. 

 A yearly grape harvest festival was soon to be held in Shiloh. The Benjaminites without wives were instructed to hide in the vineyards, and when the young women came out to dance, each man without a wife was to kidnap a girl. If the fathers and brothers objected, the allied tribes were to offer this explanation: “You are without fault because you did not give your daughters to the Benjaminites; they stole them.” Sometimes the law only has a passing acquaintance with justice. Not the same thing.

 What a way to end a book of the Bible. The last summation reveals why the worst stories had been told. “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.”

 The writer is probably trying to justify the rise of kings like David and Solomon, but that is a questionable defense. There soon came a time when the last judge, Samuel, had to give way to a king. 

 The people demanded a king. God said to Samuel, “Listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them” (I Samuel 8: 7). That undermines the theme of the writer of the Book of Judges. The people already a king, they just don’t want to obey Him. 

 Before we get to Samuel, there is a book that offers us a different view of how life in pre-monarchical Israel ought to have been lived. The example is an alien, an immigrant in the land. Next week: Ruth.