“I am a Jashubite, of the family of Issachar. A man seized me behind the thicket, and he went into me and violated me. And now he must marry me. He may not divorce me all the days of his life.
The Law says that if a man seizes a woman and forces himself upon her, and she is betrothed to another man, then the man must be killed. He has done no different than if he had risen up in the field against his sister and killed her. I could have seen his blood stain the stones as he was crushed and cursed. But the Law says that because I am not betrothed, the man who violated me must marry me and care for me all the days of his life. He will give my father fifty shekels, and then I will be his wife.
I mourned and pulled at my hair, but I could not weep. I tried to claw tears from my eyes. The more I could not weep, the angrier I became. I seethed with hate for my new husband. This man whose eyes were once filled with lust and madness now droop to the ground in defeat – I am his defeat, because he cannot be rid of me. I am his burden. Why should he go about lamenting? Am I not the one he held to the dirt, behind the thicket? Am I not the one who screamed, whose cries went unheard? Am I not the one who watched the sparrows fly away in fear as he howled? Am I not the one who watched them fly away as I tried to ignore the pain, and the dripping of the blood, until he was done with me?
But he will never be done with me. I am a chain to his ankle.
God, why must this be? This is the Law You gave! You alone are righteous and there is none like You! Far be it from You to let the man go without stoning, without punishment of death! Far be it from You to let him glare at me as if I were a chain to him – I am no chain to him, he is a chain to me! He violated me, Lord!
God, why does Your Law give us such statutes? Why mustn’t I wear both linen and wool? Why mustn’t I eat what chews the cud but whose hooves are not divided? Why mustn’t my brothers plow with an ox and a donkey together? Why mustn’t I fall in love with a Moabite if he should treat me well?
My mother came to my father’s aid when he fought with Shuah, the son of Ebal, whose land is next to my father’s – her hand was cut off, according to Your Law, because she attacked the man’s genitals. Look! Her hand is gone, cut off at the wrist for defending her husband! Why should I be given to one of this hideous man’s hideous brothers if he dies and does not give me children? Why should I look into a babe’s face and know he is the seed of a man I can never love? Is no one to be condemned for this iniquity? Will no one be condemned for this evil? Where is the mighty man of valor to save me?
God, deliver me from bitterness! God, You will make it right! My soul is bitter, my Lord! May the Almighty give me wisdom from what I do not understand, from what I despise. Your prophet Moses said, after he gave Your Law, that You will raise up a Prophet. Moses said it is Him we must hear. Will the Prophet make us to hear good? Will He make us to hear more statutes about linen and wool, more statutes concerning the animals with divided hooves, and how I am to be passed from hideous brother to hideous brother if they die without giving me a child I cannot look in the eye?
The Prophet is from You, God.
Far be it from Him to leave undone what is right.
You have answered me, Lord. The Prophet You give will make everything right. Lord, the Prophet You send will make sense of the weights and the measurements. He will make sense of the ox without the muzzle, the leaven, the sprinkling of lamb’s blood, the deaths, the wrongs done to me. I have never concerned myself with lofty things, O Lord, never concerned myself with things too great and too profound for me. But I have no choice with this ugly, profound thing.
May Your Prophet come quickly. I am bitter at heart. May He make everything right in this bramble and brier. May He make my screams to be precious. May He do what is right with my attacker and his howls. The sparrows who flew away, may He send forth as messengers.
God, may Your Prophet come quickly. I am bitter and sick of love.”
"Of this salvation the prophets have inquired and searched carefully, who prophesied of the grace that would come to you, searching what, or what manner of time, the Spirit of Christ who was in them was indicating when He testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow." -1 Peter 1:10-11
-from Sheep Named Spike by Cpt. Bud Sturguess
The Law says that if a man seizes a woman and forces himself upon her, and she is betrothed to another man, then the man must be killed. He has done no different than if he had risen up in the field against his sister and killed her. I could have seen his blood stain the stones as he was crushed and cursed. But the Law says that because I am not betrothed, the man who violated me must marry me and care for me all the days of his life. He will give my father fifty shekels, and then I will be his wife.
I mourned and pulled at my hair, but I could not weep. I tried to claw tears from my eyes. The more I could not weep, the angrier I became. I seethed with hate for my new husband. This man whose eyes were once filled with lust and madness now droop to the ground in defeat – I am his defeat, because he cannot be rid of me. I am his burden. Why should he go about lamenting? Am I not the one he held to the dirt, behind the thicket? Am I not the one who screamed, whose cries went unheard? Am I not the one who watched the sparrows fly away in fear as he howled? Am I not the one who watched them fly away as I tried to ignore the pain, and the dripping of the blood, until he was done with me?
But he will never be done with me. I am a chain to his ankle.
God, why must this be? This is the Law You gave! You alone are righteous and there is none like You! Far be it from You to let the man go without stoning, without punishment of death! Far be it from You to let him glare at me as if I were a chain to him – I am no chain to him, he is a chain to me! He violated me, Lord!
God, why does Your Law give us such statutes? Why mustn’t I wear both linen and wool? Why mustn’t I eat what chews the cud but whose hooves are not divided? Why mustn’t my brothers plow with an ox and a donkey together? Why mustn’t I fall in love with a Moabite if he should treat me well?
My mother came to my father’s aid when he fought with Shuah, the son of Ebal, whose land is next to my father’s – her hand was cut off, according to Your Law, because she attacked the man’s genitals. Look! Her hand is gone, cut off at the wrist for defending her husband! Why should I be given to one of this hideous man’s hideous brothers if he dies and does not give me children? Why should I look into a babe’s face and know he is the seed of a man I can never love? Is no one to be condemned for this iniquity? Will no one be condemned for this evil? Where is the mighty man of valor to save me?
God, deliver me from bitterness! God, You will make it right! My soul is bitter, my Lord! May the Almighty give me wisdom from what I do not understand, from what I despise. Your prophet Moses said, after he gave Your Law, that You will raise up a Prophet. Moses said it is Him we must hear. Will the Prophet make us to hear good? Will He make us to hear more statutes about linen and wool, more statutes concerning the animals with divided hooves, and how I am to be passed from hideous brother to hideous brother if they die without giving me a child I cannot look in the eye?
The Prophet is from You, God.
Far be it from Him to leave undone what is right.
You have answered me, Lord. The Prophet You give will make everything right. Lord, the Prophet You send will make sense of the weights and the measurements. He will make sense of the ox without the muzzle, the leaven, the sprinkling of lamb’s blood, the deaths, the wrongs done to me. I have never concerned myself with lofty things, O Lord, never concerned myself with things too great and too profound for me. But I have no choice with this ugly, profound thing.May Your Prophet come quickly. I am bitter at heart. May He make everything right in this bramble and brier. May He make my screams to be precious. May He do what is right with my attacker and his howls. The sparrows who flew away, may He send forth as messengers.
God, may Your Prophet come quickly. I am bitter and sick of love.”
"Of this salvation the prophets have inquired and searched carefully, who prophesied of the grace that would come to you, searching what, or what manner of time, the Spirit of Christ who was in them was indicating when He testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow." -1 Peter 1:10-11
-from Sheep Named Spike by Cpt. Bud Sturguess
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