In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • Jephthah and His Daughter
  • Amie Sharp

Judges 11


The father was marching home in triumphwhen he saw her running. How they loved

one another. Like sparks, his wordless criesascended. It was a commonplace day, perhaps,

with rippling olive trees and birdsong.Give me victory, he’d prayed,

and I will offer to You the first thingthat comes to meet me. Perhaps in battle

he thought it would never come to this.Perhaps, God thought: this was your idea.

The last bargain they’d ever strike.Still, perhaps he thought, a man does not break

his covenant. Still, perhaps he thought,if I could take back the words I would. [End Page 127]


She left her room alone, measuring stepsdown the hill. Below, in reptilian anguish,

he stacked up wood. Perhaps they both thoughtGod would intervene. Perhaps in the silence

she thought, I am not Isaac. Perhaps he senther away and this never happened: a father

raising his knife as the stilled windwaited. Perhaps a daughter’s neck split

in a stream of blood. After, he’d havekindled the fire, listening to its hymn

of spits and crackles, the cloud of smokebillowing. Her head tilted, her body quiet,

an offering rising to the Lord.Perhaps he trudged the path calling

her unwritten name. Perhaps the windawoke with ash, darkening his mouth. [End Page 128]



Additional Information

Print ISSN
pp. 127-128
Launched on MUSE
Open Access
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.