Judges: Chapter 11

 

Who listens?

Who speaks?

And can you return?

The blurt of your mouth

the trace that is gone

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"Let whoever is first to fight the Amorites be chieftain," the elders of Gilead promise, scrambling for leadership. The cliffhanger ending of the previous chapter, where God's response is left uncertain, is resolved here, as we discover the existence of Jephtha, a  "great warrior" who is a son of Gilead. Salvation is at hand. 

Yet the chapter is dense with intertextual allusions, setting up a complex movement between hope and dread. Gilead searches for a leader, any leader, but it is unclear what kind of leader they have found. Jephtha's introduction is replete with parallels to the story of Abimelekh. Like Abimelkh, Gideon is a disenfranchised bastard. Like Abimelekh, his position is defined by his mother: the opening verses are full of references to women "a prostitute woman" "the wife of Gilead" "you are the son of an alien woman". Like Abimelekh, Jepthah leaves his father's home, and his brothers. Is Jephtha to be another faithless, murderous tyrant?

Yet in contrast to Abimelekh's active rejection of his father in favor of his mother's kin, Jephthat's break with his fatheris not a matter of choice. He is forced "to flee," and camps in the outer periphery until the elders of Gilead come to fetch him, like a discarded shoe. "For you have hated me, and banished me from my father's house, why do you come to me now when you are troubled (tz'a'r צר)?" he erupts, defining himself as a rejected exile who still sees himself as linked to his lost family home. 

This loaded accusation parallels two other pain-filled verses, which set into place the thematic matrix of this dense chapter. First, it is a direct syntactic echo of God's own accusation to Israel in the previous chapter: "For you have left me... let the gods you have chosen save you in your time of trouble (tz'a'r צר)." "That is why we have come to return you" the elders of Gilead respond, using the loaded term that also denotes "repentance." This parallel highlights that Israel are mercenary in their appeals to both God and Jephtha; they are using God and man for their own safety, oblivious to the hurt and wrong they have done. Jephtha seems aware that he is aligned with God's role: "God will listen between us" he says, demanding a deeper loyalty. He then takes on God's role in recounting the history of the covenant. In highlighting the role of the divine in salvation, Jephtha links himself to the Father--to Gideon rather than Abimelekh. Like Gideon, he insists that salvation is found not in might, but in divine intervention.  

Jephtha's pain-filled cry also directly echoes Isaac's cry to a different Abimelekh, back in the nation's prehistory, in Genesis 26: 27: "Why have you come to me, and you hated me, and sent me away?" This cry introduces the first human covenant in history, as Isaac and Abimelekh king of Grar "swear" to do no harm to each other, a covenant tied into place by "the blessing of God." 

And indeed, Jephtha is obsessed with the question of vows and human faithfulness. How can language be made binding? The leitwords of this chapter are d'v'r דבר, speech, sh'v, return, repentance, sh'm'a, to listen. Jephath "speaks" (דבר) his "speech" (d'v'r) "before God," trying to give it reality. His first act of war is to send the "speech (d'v;r) of Jephtha" to the King of Amon, fighting with words before he fights with weapons. If Israel, in the previous chapter. had lost their connection Moses and to Joshua, Jephtha here attempts to recreate it by focusing specifically on the power of Moses' words, on the messages that he sent. Yet these efforts are alas, in vain. Just as the kings did not listen to Moses, the king of Amon does not "listen" to Jephtha's words.  In the end, it is physical battle rather than words that matter.

Or is it?

There is a dark side to the attempt to make human language binding. "The first thing that comes out to greet me when I return (sh'v) in peace  I will dedicate to God," Jephtha swears. It is his daughter who comes to greet him, "with timbrel and dance", echoing Miriam's primordial timbrel and circle dance in the aftermath of the splitting of the sea. "You have destroyed me," Jephtha accuses his daughter. "I opened my mouth to God and cannot return" (sh'u'v).

Perhaps rather than seeking to reify language and make it binding, Jephtha would have been better  served by turning to women's speech, and connecting to his rejected mother. "This is the word (d'v'r) that God has commanded: if a man makes a vow... he must carry out all that crossed his lip.. if a woman makes a vow... and her father restrains her... none of her vows shall stand, and God will forgive her." The laws of vows are introduced by making women's vows dependent on relationships--be they with father's or husbands. Here, Jephtha's commitment to the blurting of his mouth overpowers the relationship to his daughter, and undoes the promise of redemptive return that lurks beneath the surface of this chapter.

The redemptive dance and song that could have connected to Deborah's own recreation of the Song of the Sea,  turn instead to a dirge, as the "maidens of Israel go every year, for four days a year, to chant dirges for the daughter of Jephtha". ]

Numbers: Chapter 21

Go back to the beginning

and try again

From the desert, a gift

From the depths, the summit

When can you say, 

I have sinned ?

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The chapter continues the last, continuing and intensifying both its central strands:  the perilous approach to the Promised Land on the one hand. and the replay of the desert experience on the other.

In the previous chapter, the generation of the Exodus --as exemplified by Miriam and Aaron--are dying out. Yet the the rise of a new generation does not seem to promise renewal. What we have is rather a replay the aftermath of the Exodus, with the constant complaints about the lack of food and water. Here, though, we seem to go further back. The serpent that played so central a role in Moses' initial interaction with Pharaoh reappears,  In a hermetic, highly poetic section, mysterious "fiery snakes" come and attack the nation (in Hebrew, the language is musically alliterative: "nahash saraf ye-nash-hu""). Echoing Pharaoh's own language, the people beg Moses to "remove" the plague. Here, we return to the aftermath of the first time Moses brought forth water from a stone, in Exodus 27. Echoing the keyword of nes (trial, banner), Moses must make a "nahash nehoshet", a copper serpent, which will play the part of Moses' heavy hands in Exodus. The upraised serpent, like the upraised arms, offers salvation from attack. One change has taken place though: for the first time, Israel admit wrongdoing, seeing a "sin" in the complaints (tluna) that have played so central apart in this book: "We have sinned, in what we spoke about God and about you." (here, we perhaps are going even further back, touching on the primal sin in Eden itself...)

The other strand is the continued approach  to the Promised Land. After being rebuffed by Edom, the Israelites "circle" to avoid Edmoite land, and are attacked, first by the --first by the King of Canaan, then by Sihon and by Og. Here, we do see growth and new beginnings. Initially defeated by the King of Canaan, the Israelites bond together, and for the first time function as a single entity, rather than  a mob that "gathers" (k'h'l). "And Israel vowed to God... and God listened to Israel..." From that point out, Israel is victorious in battle. 

The new independence and cohesion of the nation is perhaps best exemplified by the Song Israel sings. This is the most explicit recreation of the exodus, the language directly echoing the Song of the Sea--except this time, it is the nation rather than Moses that leads the Song: "And then Israel sang this song".  

The preponderance of poetry in this chapter returns us to the previous chapter's focus on speech and narrative. If Moses was unable to "speak to the stone" and could not persuade Edom through narrative, here,  victory  is framed by  growing complexity of speech. The victory over Canaan is dependent on a vow; The battle with Sihon is introduced by the recitative from "the book of God's wars" and the Song, and is followed by the song of the moshlim, which also serves to to introduce the battle with Og.

If the mouth was venomous at the opening of the chapter, it is transformed into the key to salvation.]

Exodus 15: In Writing

There is a breath that stirs

the salt seas

melts the frozen heart of the deeps

a sinking stone

in a wall of silence

I break through solid waters

Cast forth the dead tree

so starved roots

grab the sky

turn tears to song

standing to dance

salt waves to sweet waters

turn windy dreams

castles on clouds

to a place founded on bedrock

Exodus: Chapter 15

 from the depths
to the far reaches

The heart of the deeps

The breathing wind

What do your
own hands do?

The shifting gifts
of the salty seas

make walls of water
to walls of stone









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The Song of the Sea--a poetic response to the Exodus recapitulates in succinct symbol the central components of the process:
The identification of God by name; while seeing him within the context of a reverberating relationship: "the God of my fathers"--a reiteration of God's initial exchange with Moses.
anger--first God's at Moses' for his hesitance, then  Moses' and Pharaoh for his intransigence
wind--the repeated, portentous eastern wind that brought the frogs, and the locusts, and split the sea becomes the "breath" of God's "nostrils"
the focus on "standing"--the repeated order given to Moses; on the heart; on the "hand"; on sending forth; on spoil.
The binding together of all the elements of redemption is empowering. The enslaved children of Israel become, in the course of the song, a nation among the nations:
"You have guided in your love, this nation have You redeemed" "Till Your nation passes forth, till this nation that You possessed/created [kaniya] passes." No longer have they simply "left", in song they have already arrived, have already established the Temple. Past and future conflate into a single reality--a reality perhaps best expressed in the circles (mehol) of dancing women, led by "Miriam the prophetess."
Yet the redeeming salt seas take on an ominous cast at the closing of the chapter, when the children of Israel are unable to drink because the water is salty(marim)--a play on the singing Miriam's name. A cast tree renders the water drinkable, but the  path from exodus to full redemption is no longer so simple. What has hurt Egypt can hurt Israel as well. They must not be like Pharaoh, who refuses to listen and see. "If you will listen... and do what is just in God's eyes, all the disease that I put on Egypt I will not put on you"
The chapter closes with the comforting arrival at Eilim, with its twelve springs of water, one for each tribe. Water once again is a source of blessing]