The Garden of Eden 14

The Garden of Eden 14

But the next day, when Abimelech tried in the same way to burn the tower

of Thebez, suddenly the end came. For a woman on the top of the tower

had a piece of a millstone in her hand, and as Abimelech came near she

threw the stone with all her might, and it hit him in the head. And that

he might die a soldier’s death, he called his armor-bearer to come and

kill him with his sword. Thus he died. And thus the evil both of the men

of Shechem and of Abimelech was punished.

 

 

 

 

XXIV

 

JEPHTHAH’S DAUGHTER

 

 

Her father was an outlaw, like Robin Hood. For no fault of his he had

been driven from his home, and had gone to live in the wild forest.

There he had been joined by other men, some bad and some good, who had

been driven out like himself or had run away in fear of being punished.

And they went on forays, stealing sheep and oxen. And people who had

money in their purses were afraid to go by that way, lest Jephthah and

his merry men should fall upon them and send them back with empty

pockets, and sore heads into the bargain. Though I hope that Jephthah,

like Robin Hood, troubled only those who cheated their neighbors or were

cruel to the poor. Anyhow, his fame spread through all the land of

Gilead, in which he lived, and everybody knew that Jephthah was a bold

outlaw, and that he had with him a band of stout companions. In the

greenwood, with these wild men, lived a little girl; and she was

Jephthah’s only child.

 

The land of Gilead was bounded by three rivers and a desert. In the

north a river ran into the Jordan, and in the south a river ran into the

Jordan, and the desert lay along the east. And in the desert was a wild

tribe called the men of Ammon. And the men of Ammon sent word to the men

of Gilead and said, “The country in which you live belongs to us. That

was where our fathers lived. Come now, move out and let us in.” And when

the men of Gilead heard that, they were sore distressed, for the men of

Ammon were mighty men. “Where is a man,” they said, “who can be the

captain of our army? If he can lead us into battle and gain the victory,

he shall be the king of Gilead.” And they sent to Jephthah and asked

him.

 

“Come,” they said, “and be our captain, that we may fight with the men

of Ammon.”

 

But Jephthah said, “Did you not hate me, and expel me out of my father’s

house? Why are you come to me now when you are in distress?”

 

And the men of Gilead said, “If you will be our captain so that we may

defeat our enemies, you shall be our king.”

 

So Jephthah and his merry men and his little daughter came out of the

woods with the messengers of Gilead. And they all stopped at a church

beside the road and said their prayers. And there they told God what

they had promised. And Jephthah stood up and made a vow. “O Lord,” he

said, “if thou shalt without fail deliver the men of Ammon into my

hands, then it shall be that whosoever comes first out of my doors to

meet me when I return in peace, I will sacrifice to thee.” For Jephthah

thought that if he made a vow like that, the Lord would be more likely

to give him victory. This, you understand, was a long time ago, when

people were very ignorant about God. Of this vow, Jephthah’s daughter

knew nothing.

 

Thus Jephthah became the captain. And he sent messengers to the king of

Ammon and said, “Why are you come to fight me in my own land?” And the

king of Ammon answered, “Your land is my land. Your fathers took it from

my fathers. Come now, give it up again peaceably.” But Jephthah said,

“When our fathers came into these parts out of Egypt, your fathers were

not living here. They had been driven out by Sihon, king of the

Amorites. And our fathers fought with Sihon and beat him in battle and

took his land, from one river to the other. It was not your land. And

anyhow, all this happened three hundred years ago. The Lord be judge

this day between the men of Gilead and the men of Ammon.” So they fell

to fighting. And the men of Gilead gained a great victory.

 

And Jephthah came home in triumph to his house, and all the women came

out to meet him, who had stayed behind while the men went to battle. Out

they came, singing and dancing and playing on tambourines. And who

should be at the head of the procession but Jephthah’s little daughter!

So she was the first person who came out to meet him when he returned in

peace. She was his only child; beside her he had neither son nor

daughter. And when her father saw her he cried with a great cry, and

said, “Alas, my daughter! you have dealt me a worse blow than any that

was struck this day in battle: you have brought me down to the ground.

For I have vowed a vow to God, and I must keep it, and here you come to

meet me.”

 

Then Jephthah’s daughter understood what the vow was, and that it meant

her death. And she said, “My father, you have gained the victory: that

is the great thing. Do to me according to what you have promised to the

Lord.” It was all terribly wrong, though Jephthah did not know it. But

his daughter, like Iphigenia in another story, showed herself a martyr

and a heroine. For the sake of her country, as she believed, she gave

her life.

 

So they made Jephthah their king, but his happiness was gone. He fought

a battle with the men of Ephraim and drove them back over the river, and

stationed his soldiers on the bank where they must cross. And when

anybody came running, the soldiers said, “Are you a man of Ephraim?” and

if he said “No,” they said, “Say ‘Shibboleth.’” And if he said

“Sibboleth” they knew that he belonged to Ephraim, for the men of

Ephraim were not able to say _sh_. But every year the women of Israel

spent four days in the mountain weeping and lamenting in remembrance of

the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter.

 

 

 

 

XXV

 

THE KING’S GREAT-GRANDMOTHER

 

 

All the great-grandmothers were once as young as we are. So, when this

story begins, King David’s great-grandmother was just about at the age

when girls are graduated from the grammar school. She lived in Moab, in

the country of Balaam and Balak, and her name was Ruth. And at that time

a new family moved into that neighborhood from the land of Judah, from

the town of Bethlehem. The man’s name was Elimelech, and his wife’s name

was Naomi, and they had two sons. And by and by one of the sons married

a girl named Orpah, and the other married Ruth. Then ten years passed,

and Elimelech and his two sons died, and Naomi and Ruth and Orpah were

left alone.

 

Then Naomi took her two daughters-in-law each by the hand, and with

tears in her eyes kissed them, and told them that she was going back to

Bethlehem. And at first they both said that they would go with her. But

she told them that they would better go home. “I have no more sons,” she

said, “and no good house for you to live in.” And Orpah went home,

crying as she went. But Ruth stayed with Naomi. “Intreat me not,” she

said, “to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for

whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge: thy

people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” So they gathered their

things together and set out upon their journey. Over they went across

the river Jordan, and climbed the hills, and came at last to Bethlehem.

And there they arrived at the beginning of the barley harvest.

 

Now the next morning Ruth said to her mother, “I must help to support

myself and you, so that we may not starve. Let me go into the fields and

gather the barley which the reapers leave behind them.” For they had a

good law in that country which said that the farmers must not gather up

all of the wheat or the barley or the fruit, but must leave some for the

poor. So Ruth went to glean the barley. The field in which she gleaned

belonged to a rich farmer whose name was Boaz. And pretty soon out came

Boaz to see how the work was getting on, and he noticed Ruth and asked

about her. And the head reaper told him who she was. And Boaz was very

kind to her.

 

“My daughter,” he said, “stay with my maidens in my field. Nobody shall

harm you. Gather as much as you can carry. When you are thirsty, go and

drink out of the men’s bucket, and at noon when you are hungry come and

eat your lunch with us.”

 

And Ruth said, “How is it that you are so good to me, a stranger?”

 

And Boaz answered, “I have heard about you, how you have left your own

land and your own people to be a good daughter to my old friend Naomi.”

 

So Ruth gleaned all day behind the reapers in the field of Boaz, and

when she was thirsty she drank from their bucket, and when it was time

for lunch, she dipped her bread in the vinegar with the others, and Boaz

himself passed her the parched corn. And Boaz told the reapers to drop

some handfuls in her way; so that at night she had more than a bushel of

barley to take home.

 

And Naomi said, “My daughter, where have you gleaned to-day?” And Ruth

said, “In the field of Boaz, and he was very kind to me.”

 

“Why,” cried Naomi, “he is a near kinsman. Your husband’s father was his

cousin.” So every day, through barley harvest and through wheat harvest,

Ruth gleaned from morning till night in the fields of Boaz.

 

By and by, good Naomi said to herself, “Boaz has no wife, and Ruth has

no husband. How pleasant it would be if they should marry!” And so she planned and planned