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Overtures to Biblical Theology #13
Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives
Professor Trible focuses on four variations upon the theme of terror in the Bible. By combining the discipline of literary criticism with the hermeneutics of feminism, she reinterprets the tragic stories of four women in ancient Israel: Hagar, Tamar, an unnamed concubine, and the daughter of Jephthah. In highlighting the silence, absence, and opposition of God, as well as human cruelty, Trible shows how these neglected stories—interpreted in memoriam—challenge both the misogyny of Scripture and its use in church, synagogue, and academy.
128 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 1984
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November 29, 2020
I read this book as part of a conscious effort to read at least 10 books written by women in 2017. This is somewhat difficult given the fact that non-fiction sub-genre that most interests me (biblical scholarship and theology) seems to be dominated by white males wearing Tweed and Khakis. I loved/hated this book. First, it forced me to confront my male-centric hermeneutic, which has a tendency to gloss over female characters. Second, it forced me to contemplate the ethics involved in reading these stories. Whether viewed as true events and/or as foils for other literary events, the implication is still that a woman's trauma is used to propel a narrative. It was not a comfortable read, but I'm glad to have done it. I loved Trible's attention to detail in the work, her breadth of engagement with other scholarship, and her compelling prose (seriously, the art of writing profoundly is lost in biblical studies). I have recommended this to my wife and our female friends, mainly because I want to know if their experience with it will be as revelatory as mine. Any man would do well to read it as well. But, fair warning: it won't work if you're not willing to confront your own misogyny.
September 11, 2018
Quick, name the absolute worst parts of the Bible. Chances are, you thought of one of these four stories: The rape and dismemberment of the concubine in Judges, the rape of Tamar by her half-brother, the sacrifice of Jephthah's daughter in order to fulfill a vow he made to God, and the use, abuse and expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael.
These four stories – all of them describing violence against women without overt condemnation by either God or the narrator(s) – are what Phyllis Trible calls "texts of terror." Somewhat surprisingly, she analyzes these passages not to explain them away or redeem them with a pro-woman retelling, but to simply sit with them, to understand fully the depth and breadth of the horror these passages inflict on the characters – and therefore on us, the readers who cannot help but sympathize with them.
In so doing, Trible hopes to memorialize them. These four women – two of them nameless, one of them voiceless, all of them utterly vulnerable to the whims and lusts of powerful men – do not get preached from pulpits, featured in liturgies or adhered to flannelgraphs. Yet they are essential parts of the Judeo-Christian tradition. If nothing else, they personify, as Trible expertly highlights, the qualities of the "suffering servant" in Second Isaiah's famous prophecies.
Although originally referring to Israel, Christians, taking cues from the gospels, have appropriated the "suffering servant" of Isaiah 53 to describe Jesus – "a man of sorrows acquainted with grief," "as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth," etc. Trible moves in the opposite direction, identifying these four women as suffering servants, and given the longstanding Christian confession of Jesus as the sufferer, implicitly identifying them as Christ figures.
Most poignantly, Trible makes this association explicit in her analysis of the concubine in Gibeah. Echoing the more famous tale of Lot in Sodom (do these stories reflect a single event buried deep in Israel's memory and adjusted as needed for different contexts? I'd say it's likely, but that's not Trible's concern here), the concubine and her master spend the night in an old man's home, where men of the city arrive and demand the male guest be given to them to rape. The man offers the concubine instead, and she is raped and tortured until morning (and potentially killed, although Trible points out the text seems to indicate the concubine's master actually murders her once they arrive back to his home in Ephraim). Trible describes the key moment this way: "Truly the hour is at hand, and the woman is betrayed into the hands of sinners."
Trible's insight and deft handling of the texts make Texts of Terror a swift and insightful read – I'd almost call it a joy, but the subject matter makes that an impossibility. She refuses to get bogged down in questions of authorship, redaction or historical criticism, all things I enjoy getting bogged down in, but which would serve to distract from the women at the center of Trible's focus. Her goal is to dig as deep as possible into the texts as they are, under the assumption that the text we have is there for a reason, no matter how it got that way.
Therefore, Trible points out patterns and structures of the original Hebrew that have become invisible under the layers of translation and interpretation that have accumulated over the millennia. Some of these are brilliant and beautiful; others feel like more of a stretch. But all of them are fascinating and demand careful consideration. Almost uniformly, Trible ends up highlighting how the original text mercilessly marginalizes and degrades these women.
But that's the point: Trible is "telling sad stories," as she puts it in her introduction. That they are sad does not mean they are worthless. Indeed, sad stories often tell us more about ourselves than happy ones. They force us to wrestle with the world as the world is, with God as God is, and with the Bible as the Bible is – not as we wish those things would be. For wrestling with them, we hopefully emerge stronger, with greater insight on what it means to be a "suffering servant" in whom we should see the life and work of Jesus.
Published 34 years ago, Texts of Terror remains a vitally important work, one that should be on the bookshelf of every preacher, every counselor and every church leader. In a day where many women are finding their voices for the first time, we would all do well to return to Trible's classic, in which she helps four ancient women cry, "Me, too!"
These four stories – all of them describing violence against women without overt condemnation by either God or the narrator(s) – are what Phyllis Trible calls "texts of terror." Somewhat surprisingly, she analyzes these passages not to explain them away or redeem them with a pro-woman retelling, but to simply sit with them, to understand fully the depth and breadth of the horror these passages inflict on the characters – and therefore on us, the readers who cannot help but sympathize with them.
In so doing, Trible hopes to memorialize them. These four women – two of them nameless, one of them voiceless, all of them utterly vulnerable to the whims and lusts of powerful men – do not get preached from pulpits, featured in liturgies or adhered to flannelgraphs. Yet they are essential parts of the Judeo-Christian tradition. If nothing else, they personify, as Trible expertly highlights, the qualities of the "suffering servant" in Second Isaiah's famous prophecies.
Although originally referring to Israel, Christians, taking cues from the gospels, have appropriated the "suffering servant" of Isaiah 53 to describe Jesus – "a man of sorrows acquainted with grief," "as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth," etc. Trible moves in the opposite direction, identifying these four women as suffering servants, and given the longstanding Christian confession of Jesus as the sufferer, implicitly identifying them as Christ figures.
Most poignantly, Trible makes this association explicit in her analysis of the concubine in Gibeah. Echoing the more famous tale of Lot in Sodom (do these stories reflect a single event buried deep in Israel's memory and adjusted as needed for different contexts? I'd say it's likely, but that's not Trible's concern here), the concubine and her master spend the night in an old man's home, where men of the city arrive and demand the male guest be given to them to rape. The man offers the concubine instead, and she is raped and tortured until morning (and potentially killed, although Trible points out the text seems to indicate the concubine's master actually murders her once they arrive back to his home in Ephraim). Trible describes the key moment this way: "Truly the hour is at hand, and the woman is betrayed into the hands of sinners."
Trible's insight and deft handling of the texts make Texts of Terror a swift and insightful read – I'd almost call it a joy, but the subject matter makes that an impossibility. She refuses to get bogged down in questions of authorship, redaction or historical criticism, all things I enjoy getting bogged down in, but which would serve to distract from the women at the center of Trible's focus. Her goal is to dig as deep as possible into the texts as they are, under the assumption that the text we have is there for a reason, no matter how it got that way.
Therefore, Trible points out patterns and structures of the original Hebrew that have become invisible under the layers of translation and interpretation that have accumulated over the millennia. Some of these are brilliant and beautiful; others feel like more of a stretch. But all of them are fascinating and demand careful consideration. Almost uniformly, Trible ends up highlighting how the original text mercilessly marginalizes and degrades these women.
But that's the point: Trible is "telling sad stories," as she puts it in her introduction. That they are sad does not mean they are worthless. Indeed, sad stories often tell us more about ourselves than happy ones. They force us to wrestle with the world as the world is, with God as God is, and with the Bible as the Bible is – not as we wish those things would be. For wrestling with them, we hopefully emerge stronger, with greater insight on what it means to be a "suffering servant" in whom we should see the life and work of Jesus.
Published 34 years ago, Texts of Terror remains a vitally important work, one that should be on the bookshelf of every preacher, every counselor and every church leader. In a day where many women are finding their voices for the first time, we would all do well to return to Trible's classic, in which she helps four ancient women cry, "Me, too!"
May 22, 2021
This book changed my life years before I finished it. Our terrible and traumatic stories belong in the sacred text. Sometimes that's all you need to know.
April 19, 2023
Like Jacob wrestling with the angel, so too do many readers wrestle with the troubling and terrible texts of the Bible. Phyllis Trible notes that in our wrestling with the text, "We struggle mightily, only to be wounded. But yet we hold on, seeking a blessing: the healing of wounds and the restoration of health. If the blessing comes—and we dare not claim assurance—it does not come on our terms. Indeed, as we leave the land of terror, we limp" (4–5).
In this book, Trible brings her readers on a journey through this "land of terror," drawing readers’ attention to a handful of stories in Scripture that are particularly difficult to read: (1) the story of Hagar, (2) the story of Tamar, (3) the story of the unnamed concubine in Judges 19, and (4) the story of Jephthah’s daughter. Trible has chosen these stories not only because they deal with very troublesome content matter, but also because they center on female characters—individuals with little power (both in the ancient world and in the story world), and who are customarily overlooked in the church and in the academy. Trible offers a "literary-feminist" reading of these stories, and the result is a fresh and harrowing reading of these unfamiliar, yet canonized, narratives.
Trible pulls no punches—on occasion, she even calls attention to God’s absence in these texts, or (worse still) God’s own troubling behavior. I found myself convicted throughout, and was especially impacted by Trible’s reading of the story in Judges 19 of the unnamed concubine. I find it to be the most troubling story in all of Scripture.
Such a book may leave readers wondering, "What can we do?" And while Trible does not end on a high note (she offers no comforting conclusion to console readers; she simply lets us sit with these texts of terror), she does note that Scripture "reflects [life] in both holiness and horror. Reflections themselves neither mandate nor manufacture change; yet by enabling insight, they may inspire repentance. In other words, sad stories may yield new beginnings" (2). May readers of the Bible—including all of its many sad stories—be inspired to repentance and to seek out those new beginnings.
Though a difficult book to read, this is a very important work of scholarship, and is a must-read for students of the Bible.
In this book, Trible brings her readers on a journey through this "land of terror," drawing readers’ attention to a handful of stories in Scripture that are particularly difficult to read: (1) the story of Hagar, (2) the story of Tamar, (3) the story of the unnamed concubine in Judges 19, and (4) the story of Jephthah’s daughter. Trible has chosen these stories not only because they deal with very troublesome content matter, but also because they center on female characters—individuals with little power (both in the ancient world and in the story world), and who are customarily overlooked in the church and in the academy. Trible offers a "literary-feminist" reading of these stories, and the result is a fresh and harrowing reading of these unfamiliar, yet canonized, narratives.
Trible pulls no punches—on occasion, she even calls attention to God’s absence in these texts, or (worse still) God’s own troubling behavior. I found myself convicted throughout, and was especially impacted by Trible’s reading of the story in Judges 19 of the unnamed concubine. I find it to be the most troubling story in all of Scripture.
Such a book may leave readers wondering, "What can we do?" And while Trible does not end on a high note (she offers no comforting conclusion to console readers; she simply lets us sit with these texts of terror), she does note that Scripture "reflects [life] in both holiness and horror. Reflections themselves neither mandate nor manufacture change; yet by enabling insight, they may inspire repentance. In other words, sad stories may yield new beginnings" (2). May readers of the Bible—including all of its many sad stories—be inspired to repentance and to seek out those new beginnings.
Though a difficult book to read, this is a very important work of scholarship, and is a must-read for students of the Bible.
October 25, 2018
Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives by Phyllis Trible consists a series of lectures Professor Trible delivered at Yale in which she deconstructs passages from the Bible that focus on four women in ancient Israel: Hagar, Tamar, an unnamed woman, and the daughter of Jephthah. Professor Trible refers to these passages as “texts of terror” since they reflect a cruel misogyny that goes unchallenged by the narrator(s) and/or by Yahweh as portrayed by the narrator(s).
Professor Trible quotes liberally from the Hebrew text, translates specific words, and documents her extensive research in detailed notes at the end of each chapter. She performs a close textual analysis of the text using a feminist lens. In each case, she addresses the following issues: How is the sentence structured? What can we glean from its syntax? What happens in the story and why does it happen? Who has voice and who is denied voice? Who is named and who remains unnamed? What is the narrator(s) stance in telling the story? According to the narrator(s), what is Yahweh’s stance on the events and outcome? When does the narrator(s) give Yahweh a voice? When does Yahweh remain silent and why? Professor Trible addresses the significance of each of these points by interpreting the text to expose its attitude toward gender. Her conclusions are illuminating.
According to Professor Trible, the Egyptian maid, Hagar, represents the outcast, the ostracized, the exploited, and the powerless under the mercy of the ruling class. She is the black female exploited by Sarah when it suits her purpose and sent into exile with her son, Ishmael, when her presence is perceived as a threat to the hegemony of Sarah’s son, Isaac. Tamar is raped by her brother, Amnon, and is cautioned to remain silent about her violation even though her life has been ruined. The Unnamed Woman in Judges 19:1-30 suffers betrayal, rape, torture, murder, and dismemberment. She crawls to the doorway after a night of terror, at which time her master, the Levite, nonchalantly places her on his ass and heads home. It is unclear whether she is dead or alive at this point. And, finally, there is the story of the unnamed daughter of Jephthah who is sacrificed because of her father’s promise to Yahweh.
By highlighting the plight of these four women, Professor Trible relocates them from the margin to the center. She gives them a voice and, in doing so, memorializes them. She acknowledges their trauma and honors their sacrifice. She gives them a vehicle to describe the unmitigated terror and cruelty they experienced in the hands of powerful men while she simultaneously exposes the misogyny infecting these passages of the Bible. And, as she poignantly reminds us, violence against women is not a thing of the long ago past but continues to plague us well into the present.
This book makes a significant contribution to feminist critiques of religious texts. It is highly recommended, especially for anyone interested in the representation of women in religious texts.
Professor Trible quotes liberally from the Hebrew text, translates specific words, and documents her extensive research in detailed notes at the end of each chapter. She performs a close textual analysis of the text using a feminist lens. In each case, she addresses the following issues: How is the sentence structured? What can we glean from its syntax? What happens in the story and why does it happen? Who has voice and who is denied voice? Who is named and who remains unnamed? What is the narrator(s) stance in telling the story? According to the narrator(s), what is Yahweh’s stance on the events and outcome? When does the narrator(s) give Yahweh a voice? When does Yahweh remain silent and why? Professor Trible addresses the significance of each of these points by interpreting the text to expose its attitude toward gender. Her conclusions are illuminating.
According to Professor Trible, the Egyptian maid, Hagar, represents the outcast, the ostracized, the exploited, and the powerless under the mercy of the ruling class. She is the black female exploited by Sarah when it suits her purpose and sent into exile with her son, Ishmael, when her presence is perceived as a threat to the hegemony of Sarah’s son, Isaac. Tamar is raped by her brother, Amnon, and is cautioned to remain silent about her violation even though her life has been ruined. The Unnamed Woman in Judges 19:1-30 suffers betrayal, rape, torture, murder, and dismemberment. She crawls to the doorway after a night of terror, at which time her master, the Levite, nonchalantly places her on his ass and heads home. It is unclear whether she is dead or alive at this point. And, finally, there is the story of the unnamed daughter of Jephthah who is sacrificed because of her father’s promise to Yahweh.
By highlighting the plight of these four women, Professor Trible relocates them from the margin to the center. She gives them a voice and, in doing so, memorializes them. She acknowledges their trauma and honors their sacrifice. She gives them a vehicle to describe the unmitigated terror and cruelty they experienced in the hands of powerful men while she simultaneously exposes the misogyny infecting these passages of the Bible. And, as she poignantly reminds us, violence against women is not a thing of the long ago past but continues to plague us well into the present.
This book makes a significant contribution to feminist critiques of religious texts. It is highly recommended, especially for anyone interested in the representation of women in religious texts.
September 10, 2009
While Trible's literary/rhetorical criticism asks a lot of an ancient, multi-sourced text, the endeavor is still humbling in scope and purpose. Published over 25 years ago now, Texts of Terror is still a shining example of feminist Biblical criticism, as well a work of deep faith, hope and compassion. Trible takes four of the most disturbing Biblical examples of sexual violence against women, and exegetes them with a Christological lens. Buried under the violence, subjugation and silencing, Trible unearths the following women:
Hagar: Egyptian Slave Woman
She was wounded for our transgressions; she was bruised for our iniquities
Genesis 16;1-16; 21:9-21
Tamar: Princess of Judah
A woman of sorrows and acquainted with grief
2 Samuel 13:1-22
An Unnamed Woman: Concubine from Bethlehem
Her body was broken and given to many
Judges 19:1-30
The Daughter of Jephthah: Virgin in Gilead
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken her?
Judges 11:29-40
By reading these texts closely and attending to the subject/object of grammar and the often chiasmic nature of the syntax, Trible finds the people and poetry under the stories, and through them, a glimpse of redemption for these texts of terror as they reveal the brokenness of human violence paired with solidarity in Christ's suffering and sacrifice.
Hagar: Egyptian Slave Woman
She was wounded for our transgressions; she was bruised for our iniquities
Genesis 16;1-16; 21:9-21
Tamar: Princess of Judah
A woman of sorrows and acquainted with grief
2 Samuel 13:1-22
An Unnamed Woman: Concubine from Bethlehem
Her body was broken and given to many
Judges 19:1-30
The Daughter of Jephthah: Virgin in Gilead
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken her?
Judges 11:29-40
By reading these texts closely and attending to the subject/object of grammar and the often chiasmic nature of the syntax, Trible finds the people and poetry under the stories, and through them, a glimpse of redemption for these texts of terror as they reveal the brokenness of human violence paired with solidarity in Christ's suffering and sacrifice.
February 25, 2018
I didn't really expect to get into this, it was just supplemental reading for a class. Strangely enough, I did get into it. My heart breaks for these women, some of whom weren't even given the dignity of a name so they could be remembered. I'm emotionally wrecked but onto the essay!
April 8, 2024
Not all of the Bible is safe for VeggieTales and 'Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives' takes a close look at four disturbing passages where women are victims of horrendous evil. These four stories are the story of Hagar, the rape of Tamar by her half-brother Amnon, the rape and dismemberment of the Levite's concubine in the Book of Judges, and the foolhardy vow of Jephthah that led to the sacrifice of his daughter. Trible is very attentive to the details of the text, to the Hebrew grammar, and she offers particular literary flourishes that identify these victims with Jesus himself (of the Levite's concubine she writes "Her body was broken and given to many"; also, I shockingly realized through reading this book that even though the other eleven tribes go to war with Benjamin because it is in Benjamin's territory and at the hands of its men that the concubine is raped, that not long after the first king of Israel, Saul, comes FROM the tribe of Benjamin!). There were times I wished Trible would have taken a wider look at these narratives; for instance, some biblical scholars argue that Jephthah's daughter was not sacrificed but instead dedicated to the LORD as a perpetual virgin but Trible makes no comment on this.
These harrowing passages tend to be neglected in the pulpit today - far easier is it to preach on "The LORD is my shepherd" or the parable of the prodigal son - and so I appreciate Trible's investigation of these texts of terror (there could be more - one thinks of, for instance, the Tamar of Genesis or David's demand for Bathsheba).
These harrowing passages tend to be neglected in the pulpit today - far easier is it to preach on "The LORD is my shepherd" or the parable of the prodigal son - and so I appreciate Trible's investigation of these texts of terror (there could be more - one thinks of, for instance, the Tamar of Genesis or David's demand for Bathsheba).
January 28, 2023
Texts of Terror: Literary Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives by Phyllis Trible (2009)
Spoilers Ahead!
Phyllis Trible's "Texts of Terror: Literary Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives" is a thought-provoking work that offers a feminist interpretation of several biblical texts. Trible's analysis is both scholarly and accessible, making this book a valuable resource for scholars, students, and lay readers alike. She examines stories such as the rape of Dinah, the binding of Isaac, and the story of Hagar, among others, and offers new insights into the treatment of women in these texts. Trible's work is an important contribution to the field of biblical studies, and her book is highly recommended for anyone interested in feminist criticism or the Bible.
Her book is divided into four chapters, each of which deals with a different biblical text. The first chapter examines the story of Hagar in Genesis 16 and 21, in which Hagar, a slave, is forced to bear a child for her mistress Sarah. Trible discusses the ways in which Hagar's story is used to justify the oppression of women and the power dynamics within patriarchal society. Trible gives the following reflection:
Read in light of contemporary issues and images, her story depicts oppression in three familiar forms: nationality, class, and sex. Hagar the Egyptian is a maid; Sarah the Hebrew is her mistress. Conflicts between these two women revolve around three males. At the center is Abraham, their common husband. To him belong Ishmael, child of Hagar, and Isaac, child of Sarah. Through their husband and his two sons these females clash. From the beginning, however, Hagar is powerless because God supports Sarah. Kept in her place, the slave woman is the innocent victim of use, abuse, and rejection.
As a symbol of the oppressed, Hagar becomes many things to many people. Most especially, all sorts of rejected women find their stories in her."She is the faithful maid exploited, the black woman used by the male and abused by the female of the ruling class, the surrogate mother, the resident alien without legal recourse, the other woman, the runaway youth, the religious fleeing from affliction, the pregnant young woman alone, the expelled wife, the divorced mother with child, the shopping bag lady carrying bread and water, the homeless woman, the indigent relying upon handouts from the power structures, the welfare mother, and the self-effacing female whose own identity shrinks in service to others.”
Besides symbolizing various kinds and conditions of people in contemporary society, Hagar is a pivotal figure in biblical theology. She is the first person in scripture whom a divine messenger visits and the only person who dares to name the deity. Within the historical memories of Israel, she is the first woman to bear a child. This conception and birth make her an extraordinary figure in the story of faith: the first woman to hear an annunciation, the only one to receive a divine promise of descendants, and the first to weep for her dying child. Truly, Hagar the Egyptian is the prototype of not only special but all mothers in Israel”… This Egyptian slave woman is stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted for the transgressions of Israel. She is bruised for the iniquities of Sarah and Abraham; upon her is the chastisement that makes them whole. Hagar is Israel, from exodus to exile, yet with differences. And these differences yield terror.
The second chapter deals with Tamar, the sister of Amnon and Absalom in the story of the troublesome issues going on in David’s family after his taking of Bathsheba in 2 Samuel. Tamar is raped by her half brother Amnon, after which her brother Absalom murders Amnon as payback.
The third chapter deals with the unnamed woman, the concubine from Bethlehem that is raped and murdered at the end of the Judges narrative. This tragic story “depicts the horrors of male power, brutality, and triumphalism; of female helplessness, abuse, and annihilation. To hear this story is to inhabit a world of unrelenting terror that refuses to let us pass by on the other side.”
Trible notes that the editor of the Hebrew Bible may have used this horrific story to justify the monarchy. She writes:
… A second response comes from the editor of the book of Judges, whose voice merges with that of the narrator. At the beginning of Act One, he indicted the age thus: "In those days, there was no king in Israel." Now, at the conclusion of Act Three, he repeats this judgment and adds: "Every man did what was right in his own eyes." The phrase, "in his own eyes," plays on the words of the old man to the wicked men of Gibeah: "Do to them [the virgin daughter and the concubine] the good in your own eyes" (19:24). The lack of a king is a license for anarchy and violence. So the editor uses the horrors he has just reported to promote a monarchy that would establish order and justice in Israel.
This may have been what the author was going for at this tragic end of Judges. Either way, Trible reminds readers of the way this text has been used to justify violence towards women:
Entrusted to Israelite men, the story of the concubine justifies the expansion of violence against women. What these men claim to abhor, they have reenacted with vengeance. They have captured, betrayed, raped, and scattered four hundred virgins of Jabesh-gilead and two hundred daughters of Shiloh. Furthermore, they have tortured and murdered all the women of Benjamin and all the married women of Jabesh-gilead. Israelite males have dismembered the corporate body of Israelite females. Inasmuch as men have done it unto one of the least of women, they have done it unto many. Tribal Israel failed to direct its heart to the concubine.
The fourth chapter examines the story of Jephthah's daughter in Judges 11, in which Jephthah sacrifices his daughter as a burnt offering to God. Trible explores the ways in which this story is used to justify the sacrifice of women and to reinforce patriarchal power structures.
Trible, at the end of the chapter, analyzes the text:
Death and silence are not, however, the final words of the story. In fact, a narrative postscript shifts the meaning from vow to victim; from the father who survives to the daughter who, dying prematurely and violently, has no child to keep her name in remembrance (cf. 2 Sam. 18:18). At the beginning of the postscript, the narrator reemphasizes her barrenness. "Now she had not known a man" (11:38c). The next three words have been translated almost unanimously through the ages as, "and it became a custom in Israel" (11:39d). The verb in the clause is a feminine singular form of be or become. Since Hebrew has no neuter gender, such feminine forms may carry a neuter meaning "O so that the traditional reading, "it became," is certainly legitimate-but it may not be perceptive. Indeed, grammar, content, and context provide compelling reasons for departing from this translation. After all, the preceding clause has she as the subject of its verb: "Now she had not known a man." An independent feminine pronoun (hi') accents the subject. Similarly, the feminine grammatical gender of the verb become may refer to the daughter herself." Further, the term that is usually designated custom (hoq) can also mean tradition." The resulting translation would be, She became a tradition in Israel."
In other words, the postscript reports an extraordinary development. Whereas the female who has never known a man is typically numbered among the unremembered, in the case of the daughter of Jephthah the usual does not happen. "Although she had not known a man, nevertheless she became a tradition in Israel." In a dramatic way this sentence alters, though it does not eliminate, the finality of Jephthah's faithless vow. The alteration comes through the faithfulness of the women of Israel, as the next line explains. "From year to year the daughters of Israel went to mourn for the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite, four days in the year" (11:40). The unnamed virgin child becomes a tradition in Israel because the women with whom she chose to spend her last days have not let her pass into oblivion. They have established a testimony: activities of mourning reiterated yearly in a special place. This they have done in remembrance of her (cf. 1 Cor. 11:24-25). The narrative postscript, then, shifts the focus of the story from vow to victim, from death to life, from oblivion to remembrance. Remarkably, this saga of faithlessness and sacrifice mitigates, though it does not dispel, its own tragedy through the mourning of women.
Spoilers Ahead!
Phyllis Trible's "Texts of Terror: Literary Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives" is a thought-provoking work that offers a feminist interpretation of several biblical texts. Trible's analysis is both scholarly and accessible, making this book a valuable resource for scholars, students, and lay readers alike. She examines stories such as the rape of Dinah, the binding of Isaac, and the story of Hagar, among others, and offers new insights into the treatment of women in these texts. Trible's work is an important contribution to the field of biblical studies, and her book is highly recommended for anyone interested in feminist criticism or the Bible.
Her book is divided into four chapters, each of which deals with a different biblical text. The first chapter examines the story of Hagar in Genesis 16 and 21, in which Hagar, a slave, is forced to bear a child for her mistress Sarah. Trible discusses the ways in which Hagar's story is used to justify the oppression of women and the power dynamics within patriarchal society. Trible gives the following reflection:
Read in light of contemporary issues and images, her story depicts oppression in three familiar forms: nationality, class, and sex. Hagar the Egyptian is a maid; Sarah the Hebrew is her mistress. Conflicts between these two women revolve around three males. At the center is Abraham, their common husband. To him belong Ishmael, child of Hagar, and Isaac, child of Sarah. Through their husband and his two sons these females clash. From the beginning, however, Hagar is powerless because God supports Sarah. Kept in her place, the slave woman is the innocent victim of use, abuse, and rejection.
As a symbol of the oppressed, Hagar becomes many things to many people. Most especially, all sorts of rejected women find their stories in her."She is the faithful maid exploited, the black woman used by the male and abused by the female of the ruling class, the surrogate mother, the resident alien without legal recourse, the other woman, the runaway youth, the religious fleeing from affliction, the pregnant young woman alone, the expelled wife, the divorced mother with child, the shopping bag lady carrying bread and water, the homeless woman, the indigent relying upon handouts from the power structures, the welfare mother, and the self-effacing female whose own identity shrinks in service to others.”
Besides symbolizing various kinds and conditions of people in contemporary society, Hagar is a pivotal figure in biblical theology. She is the first person in scripture whom a divine messenger visits and the only person who dares to name the deity. Within the historical memories of Israel, she is the first woman to bear a child. This conception and birth make her an extraordinary figure in the story of faith: the first woman to hear an annunciation, the only one to receive a divine promise of descendants, and the first to weep for her dying child. Truly, Hagar the Egyptian is the prototype of not only special but all mothers in Israel”… This Egyptian slave woman is stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted for the transgressions of Israel. She is bruised for the iniquities of Sarah and Abraham; upon her is the chastisement that makes them whole. Hagar is Israel, from exodus to exile, yet with differences. And these differences yield terror.
The second chapter deals with Tamar, the sister of Amnon and Absalom in the story of the troublesome issues going on in David’s family after his taking of Bathsheba in 2 Samuel. Tamar is raped by her half brother Amnon, after which her brother Absalom murders Amnon as payback.
The third chapter deals with the unnamed woman, the concubine from Bethlehem that is raped and murdered at the end of the Judges narrative. This tragic story “depicts the horrors of male power, brutality, and triumphalism; of female helplessness, abuse, and annihilation. To hear this story is to inhabit a world of unrelenting terror that refuses to let us pass by on the other side.”
Trible notes that the editor of the Hebrew Bible may have used this horrific story to justify the monarchy. She writes:
… A second response comes from the editor of the book of Judges, whose voice merges with that of the narrator. At the beginning of Act One, he indicted the age thus: "In those days, there was no king in Israel." Now, at the conclusion of Act Three, he repeats this judgment and adds: "Every man did what was right in his own eyes." The phrase, "in his own eyes," plays on the words of the old man to the wicked men of Gibeah: "Do to them [the virgin daughter and the concubine] the good in your own eyes" (19:24). The lack of a king is a license for anarchy and violence. So the editor uses the horrors he has just reported to promote a monarchy that would establish order and justice in Israel.
This may have been what the author was going for at this tragic end of Judges. Either way, Trible reminds readers of the way this text has been used to justify violence towards women:
Entrusted to Israelite men, the story of the concubine justifies the expansion of violence against women. What these men claim to abhor, they have reenacted with vengeance. They have captured, betrayed, raped, and scattered four hundred virgins of Jabesh-gilead and two hundred daughters of Shiloh. Furthermore, they have tortured and murdered all the women of Benjamin and all the married women of Jabesh-gilead. Israelite males have dismembered the corporate body of Israelite females. Inasmuch as men have done it unto one of the least of women, they have done it unto many. Tribal Israel failed to direct its heart to the concubine.
The fourth chapter examines the story of Jephthah's daughter in Judges 11, in which Jephthah sacrifices his daughter as a burnt offering to God. Trible explores the ways in which this story is used to justify the sacrifice of women and to reinforce patriarchal power structures.
Trible, at the end of the chapter, analyzes the text:
Death and silence are not, however, the final words of the story. In fact, a narrative postscript shifts the meaning from vow to victim; from the father who survives to the daughter who, dying prematurely and violently, has no child to keep her name in remembrance (cf. 2 Sam. 18:18). At the beginning of the postscript, the narrator reemphasizes her barrenness. "Now she had not known a man" (11:38c). The next three words have been translated almost unanimously through the ages as, "and it became a custom in Israel" (11:39d). The verb in the clause is a feminine singular form of be or become. Since Hebrew has no neuter gender, such feminine forms may carry a neuter meaning "O so that the traditional reading, "it became," is certainly legitimate-but it may not be perceptive. Indeed, grammar, content, and context provide compelling reasons for departing from this translation. After all, the preceding clause has she as the subject of its verb: "Now she had not known a man." An independent feminine pronoun (hi') accents the subject. Similarly, the feminine grammatical gender of the verb become may refer to the daughter herself." Further, the term that is usually designated custom (hoq) can also mean tradition." The resulting translation would be, She became a tradition in Israel."
In other words, the postscript reports an extraordinary development. Whereas the female who has never known a man is typically numbered among the unremembered, in the case of the daughter of Jephthah the usual does not happen. "Although she had not known a man, nevertheless she became a tradition in Israel." In a dramatic way this sentence alters, though it does not eliminate, the finality of Jephthah's faithless vow. The alteration comes through the faithfulness of the women of Israel, as the next line explains. "From year to year the daughters of Israel went to mourn for the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite, four days in the year" (11:40). The unnamed virgin child becomes a tradition in Israel because the women with whom she chose to spend her last days have not let her pass into oblivion. They have established a testimony: activities of mourning reiterated yearly in a special place. This they have done in remembrance of her (cf. 1 Cor. 11:24-25). The narrative postscript, then, shifts the focus of the story from vow to victim, from death to life, from oblivion to remembrance. Remarkably, this saga of faithlessness and sacrifice mitigates, though it does not dispel, its own tragedy through the mourning of women.
January 8, 2014
It's painful to read, but Texts of Terror is a necessary one. It's short, each chapter highlights one example of a "text of terror": Hagar, Tamar, the Levite's concubine, and the daughter of Jephthah. Trible allows the discomfort and rage and disappointment and whatever other emotions may arise as a result of really reading these stories to linger and to call us to remembrance and action. Each of the chapters is an encounter with an open wound and Trible does not shrink back from calling us to really look and to respond.
This is certainly a "feminist" read, but I think it's more properly a "human" read and one that cannot be ignored. On a practical note, pastors should read this. While these stories do not trigger me specifically, they will trigger many others, women and men alike.
This is certainly a "feminist" read, but I think it's more properly a "human" read and one that cannot be ignored. On a practical note, pastors should read this. While these stories do not trigger me specifically, they will trigger many others, women and men alike.
November 23, 2021
I didn't always agree with Trible's hermeneutics, but I'm glad I read this book. Trible tackles four of the most challenging "texts of terror" in the OT: Hagar, Tamar, the Levite's concubine and Jephthah's daughter. She offers a careful reading of the text, highlighting how the perspective of the female victims has often been neglected or distorted in male-dominated interpretative history. In the process, she raises some uncomfortable questions that are often side-stepped by the evangelical commentators I'm used to. A challenging read. A difficult read. Sometimes, an infuriating read. But definitely an important one.
August 9, 2016
A book that reads the bible selectively, ignoring many standard commentaries as well. Trible paints a picture of women as perpetual victims in the Bible. Ignores every strong woman from Sarah to Rebecca to Shifra and Puah to Miriam to Deborah...and I could go on. This is a case of a woman with a cause who wants to read what she wants into material. Despite the academic presentation of the book, I found it intellectually dishonest and manipulative. I would not have finished the book had it not been for a class. (I enjoyed the class very much, by the way.)
June 12, 2018
I was confused, at first, how it could be a valuable act of feminism to simply retell stories, but I have come to appreciate its beauty and its power to reshape paradigms. This was the booklet that first introduced me to the concept, and it left an impression.
Trible writes with grace; stylistic grace, and grace in terms of NOT being a raging, accusation-slinging militant man-hater but a confident, grieving, and compassionate feminist.
Easy to understand, and well worth the time.
Trible writes with grace; stylistic grace, and grace in terms of NOT being a raging, accusation-slinging militant man-hater but a confident, grieving, and compassionate feminist.
Easy to understand, and well worth the time.
July 27, 2012
Powerful and disturbing. I do not share Trible's perspective though I think my own has been altered by the encounter. This is a very close, challenging reading of four passages of scripture encompassing Hagar, Absalom's sister Tamar, the concubine of Judges, and Jephthah's daughter.
December 28, 2021
“In telling sad stories, a feminist hermeneutic seeks to redeem the time” (3).
If only listening, we would hear and respond.
If only listening, we would hear and respond.
June 22, 2020
Trible's exegesis is nothing to write home about, but her invitation to respond to these "texts of terror" draws the reader into a new world. A world where men stand for women who have been hurt by society. A world where women are given the dignity and honor that the command. A world that is a far cry from that of Scripture, where misogyny has no place, abuse is nonexistent, and the people of God take a stand once and for all.
May 23, 2024
To analyze these four “texts of terror” is to wrestle in the dark of night. Trible expertly interprets the stories of Hagar, Tamar, an unnamed concubine, and the daughter of Jephthah, subtly connecting their individual horrors to Jesus’ own suffering at the hands of men. She doesn’t offer clean resolutions and redemption, which I think she would see as a cop out and a glossing over of reality. A worthwhile read, but not an easy one.
December 9, 2025
Though I don’t agree with every conclusion Trible comes to in her treatment of the four texts she explores in this book, she has nevertheless offered an illuminating and thorough exegesis of these texts worth dwelling on.
June 13, 2018
As the subtitle reveals, this is a literary- feminist reading of several stories from Scripture. A much needed perspective.
July 24, 2019
Con este libro comencé a entender que mucho de lo que sabía era simplemente un montón de estereotipos sin fundamento. Con Phyllis aprendí que había que ir más allá del texto e indagar sobre la realidad del texto, más cercana a Dios y no a los prejuicios largamente acariciados por la tradición.
August 31, 2025
4.5-A friend shared this with me. It’s academic, but thought provoking. Regardless of where you stand on literary criticisms of the Bible, I appreciated the author’s work in forcing us to look at these difficult texts-and not look away.
February 15, 2025
First read-through: "I am unworthy - how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth." -Job 40:4
If you care about the Bible - taking it seriously, reading it carefully - you should read this book. If you are a textual scholar, who loves form, pattern, and language - who believes the details matter - you should read this book. If you are a person of faith, who also happens to be a feminist, you should read this book. If you care about violence against women, you should read this book. If you care about women - period - you should read this book. Really, whoever you are, you should read this book.
It lives up to its title, and should be read with fear and trembling, but there is power here and hope. Glimpses of a way forward. If we pay attention. If we refuse to forget. If we allow the text to speak its terror, and listen with humble hearts, hands pressed over our mouths.
As Trible writes in the conclusion of her most terror-filled essay (a commentary on Judges 19:1-30), "Woman as object is still captured, betrayed, raped, tortured, murdered, dismembered, and scattered. To take to heart this ancient story, then, is to confess its present reality. The story is alive, and all is not well. Beyond confession we must take counsel and say, 'Never again.' Yet this counsel is itself ineffectual unless we direct our hearts to that most uncompromising of all biblical commands, speaking the word not to others but to ourselves: Repent. Repent." (87)
Read this book. Sit with the uncomfortable, complex reality that is scripture. Listen to the voices we have silenced. Who knows? It may be that you will hear the voice of God.
Second read-through: Read out-loud with Tim while we were dating.
If you care about the Bible - taking it seriously, reading it carefully - you should read this book. If you are a textual scholar, who loves form, pattern, and language - who believes the details matter - you should read this book. If you are a person of faith, who also happens to be a feminist, you should read this book. If you care about violence against women, you should read this book. If you care about women - period - you should read this book. Really, whoever you are, you should read this book.
It lives up to its title, and should be read with fear and trembling, but there is power here and hope. Glimpses of a way forward. If we pay attention. If we refuse to forget. If we allow the text to speak its terror, and listen with humble hearts, hands pressed over our mouths.
As Trible writes in the conclusion of her most terror-filled essay (a commentary on Judges 19:1-30), "Woman as object is still captured, betrayed, raped, tortured, murdered, dismembered, and scattered. To take to heart this ancient story, then, is to confess its present reality. The story is alive, and all is not well. Beyond confession we must take counsel and say, 'Never again.' Yet this counsel is itself ineffectual unless we direct our hearts to that most uncompromising of all biblical commands, speaking the word not to others but to ourselves: Repent. Repent." (87)
Read this book. Sit with the uncomfortable, complex reality that is scripture. Listen to the voices we have silenced. Who knows? It may be that you will hear the voice of God.
Second read-through: Read out-loud with Tim while we were dating.
February 18, 2019
I'm not a feminist, so in spite of the title of this book, I took a chance reading because of the source from which I discover it (https://steveawiggins.com/2019/02/10/...) and from the very high rating and comments I saw about it. It turns out that even though Phyllis Trible approaches these 4 stories from a feminist interpretation, she does an excellent job of allowing the text to speak for itself. She walked me through an objective, expository interpretation of these stories. She did such an amazing job making her point, while staying very true to the content, context, and meaning of the stories, that it was a real joy to read her approach. I always want to read into the specific wording and structure of scripture, but I always have to remind myself that I'm reading an English translation of an ancient text, and it's impossible that the English vocabulary structure is the same as it was in the original language. Here, the author not only has the education and qualification to speak on Holy Scripture, but on language too, since she references and interprets, grammatically, the original Hebrew when suggesting nuances and subtleties in the text. There's almost a legal quality to her work that makes it very analytical and very thorough.
June 4, 2023
This is a hard read for anyone who reads the Bible sympathetically, and certainly harder to any believer. There are answers to the questions posed by Professor Trible, but many will fall into the realm of "it was a different time" or, "the Bible only has one perfect person in it." These are reasonable, but largely unsatisfactory. There is recent scholarship which has directly refuted the a priori assumptions of this book, suggesting a larger and more respectable role for women in Rome and Judea than was previously assumed, but even that's controversial.
Whatever the truth about the past is, there's no doubt that this work is the standard to which all scholars employing the feminist hermeneutic ought to rise. This is what's referenced by the big names, this is what's taught in seminaries, this is a book that all serious readers of the Bible should grapple with at some point.
Whatever the truth about the past is, there's no doubt that this work is the standard to which all scholars employing the feminist hermeneutic ought to rise. This is what's referenced by the big names, this is what's taught in seminaries, this is a book that all serious readers of the Bible should grapple with at some point.
September 3, 2021
I love, love, love Phyllis Trible. She is one of my inspirations for studying the Hebrew Bible. This book is fantastic because it struggles with the texts I struggled with from the time I was a teenager. The story of the concubine in Judges was especially upsetting for me. She honors these women and remembers them and acknowledges that these are texts of terror. Yet Trible also really values the Hebrew Bible. She knows that these writings are complicated and there is room for improvement in the interpretation of the texts. She is one of my heroes.
October 31, 2012
Close readings of the stories of some women from the Old Testament. Harrowing stuff, but very well done. I love the idea of elevating this derided women simply by paying attention. Trible's ability to dig deep into the translations is a huge asset. She provides strong explanations about how they often fall short or fail to engage the ambiguity of the text.
I'm happy to see she's authored more books. I'll be moving along to them too.
I'm happy to see she's authored more books. I'll be moving along to them too.
January 31, 2015
Love her ethos, prose, and guiding virtues (letting the text speak for itself, a hermeneutic of remembrance), but found solid but not revelatory. Probably more important as one step on the trajectory of feminist hermeneutics than as a stand-alone book.
August 4, 2024
I was skeptical about this book because I thought it would be too agenda-driven and anti-scriptural. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see that was not the case for almost the whole book.
Trible does an excellent job writing beautiful essays on Hagar, Tamar, the unnamed concubine, and Jepthah's daughter. Each essay is brilliantly constructed, with close attention paid to literary structures. This lady is a master at reading texts with great care and precision in the original language. She clearly has great empathy for the suffering women and points out the injustice they each suffer with poignance and wisdom. Unfortunately, many of these stories receive so little attention from us. Trible has great perspectives to share and challenges a lot of the misogyny surrounding these stories and their telling. For her combination of scholarly precision and genuine compassion, I will be forever grateful. I will seek to emulate it as a scholar-in-training.
Initially, I gave the book five stars, but I needed to take the time to think about that. The reason I shaved off one star is because of some of her hermeneutical errors. I do not claim to be anywhere near the same level of her academic proficiency, but I do believe that academic proficiency can sometimes get in the way of seeing the text clearly. Ultimately, the clearest way to see it is with great faith in God's authorship. The biggest issue I ran into was her ideological bias. Reading texts with a clear ideological bias is both clarifying and blinding at the same time. It clarifies a lot about the text while also assuming things about the text that it may not have been trying to communicate. For that reason, I believe it is critical to read analyses from different perspectives because they each have their downfall. In my opinion, Trible let her ideologies get in the way of her analysis, and even her faith, sometimes.
Here are the biggest examples I can think of:
1) In her essay on the concubine, Trible claims the story is told with so little embellishment and detail because the narrator does not care about the woman. This statement troubled me on many levels. First, it failed to take into account the copious amounts of violence in the book of Judges that are mentioned with brief words. Judges is a violent book, and the author does not take the time to mourn and grieve for the deaths that occur. Second, it's quite a big assumption, unsupported by the text, to say that the narrator's brevity means he does not care. There could have been many reasons he was so brief about it. Maybe it was so horrible he did not want to give it much attention. Maybe he did not know much more about it than what he reported. Either way, the assumption was major. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this statement shows that the authorship of God was not taken into account. If she doesn't believe the Bible is authored by God as well as man, then that's a major difference that diverges from most of Christianity. It's heretical (and I am not saying she is not a Christian, just that this specific point of view is heretical). If God was also the author of this story, then the author's brevity certainly does not mean that he does not care.
2) In her fourth essay about Jephthah's daughter, Trible claims that the New Testament has "violated the ancient story." She says this because the book of Hebrews' famous Hall of Faith passage praises Jephthah for his faith. This is troubling on multiple fronts. First, Trible often criticizes the Bible itself for not paying enough attention to the crimes against women. The problem with that is that there are so many sins and crimes recorded in the Bible, and a vast majority of them do not get paid lots of attention. Therefore, I don't think it's a truly fair criticism to levy against the Bible, though her outrage at it is valid. Second, in this specific case, many judges who are majorly faithless in the stories we have are praised in Hebrews. This includes Gideon and Samson as well as Jephthah. It's not just about Jephthah's daughter. Many questionable characters were praised in this chapter. This leads to the third and most major point: if we believe that this is God's word (as Christians have since the beginning) then we need to make space for a God who can see what we cannot. Several questionable people are praised in Hebrews 11, and other questionable ones are praised in other parts of the Bible. We could just dismiss them all and say we know now better., as Trible does here. Yet, in my opinion, that is both arrogant and faithless. We cannot let our ideologies tear us away from the convictions our people have had for millennia. Rather, our communal Christian convictions should frame our ideologies.
For those reasons, though I loved the essays and will recommend the book, I lowered the rating to four stars. Most of Trible's criticisms and thoughts were true and valid, but in the final analysis, they needed to be better balanced by a devotion to God and her Christian people.
Trible does an excellent job writing beautiful essays on Hagar, Tamar, the unnamed concubine, and Jepthah's daughter. Each essay is brilliantly constructed, with close attention paid to literary structures. This lady is a master at reading texts with great care and precision in the original language. She clearly has great empathy for the suffering women and points out the injustice they each suffer with poignance and wisdom. Unfortunately, many of these stories receive so little attention from us. Trible has great perspectives to share and challenges a lot of the misogyny surrounding these stories and their telling. For her combination of scholarly precision and genuine compassion, I will be forever grateful. I will seek to emulate it as a scholar-in-training.
Initially, I gave the book five stars, but I needed to take the time to think about that. The reason I shaved off one star is because of some of her hermeneutical errors. I do not claim to be anywhere near the same level of her academic proficiency, but I do believe that academic proficiency can sometimes get in the way of seeing the text clearly. Ultimately, the clearest way to see it is with great faith in God's authorship. The biggest issue I ran into was her ideological bias. Reading texts with a clear ideological bias is both clarifying and blinding at the same time. It clarifies a lot about the text while also assuming things about the text that it may not have been trying to communicate. For that reason, I believe it is critical to read analyses from different perspectives because they each have their downfall. In my opinion, Trible let her ideologies get in the way of her analysis, and even her faith, sometimes.
Here are the biggest examples I can think of:
1) In her essay on the concubine, Trible claims the story is told with so little embellishment and detail because the narrator does not care about the woman. This statement troubled me on many levels. First, it failed to take into account the copious amounts of violence in the book of Judges that are mentioned with brief words. Judges is a violent book, and the author does not take the time to mourn and grieve for the deaths that occur. Second, it's quite a big assumption, unsupported by the text, to say that the narrator's brevity means he does not care. There could have been many reasons he was so brief about it. Maybe it was so horrible he did not want to give it much attention. Maybe he did not know much more about it than what he reported. Either way, the assumption was major. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this statement shows that the authorship of God was not taken into account. If she doesn't believe the Bible is authored by God as well as man, then that's a major difference that diverges from most of Christianity. It's heretical (and I am not saying she is not a Christian, just that this specific point of view is heretical). If God was also the author of this story, then the author's brevity certainly does not mean that he does not care.
2) In her fourth essay about Jephthah's daughter, Trible claims that the New Testament has "violated the ancient story." She says this because the book of Hebrews' famous Hall of Faith passage praises Jephthah for his faith. This is troubling on multiple fronts. First, Trible often criticizes the Bible itself for not paying enough attention to the crimes against women. The problem with that is that there are so many sins and crimes recorded in the Bible, and a vast majority of them do not get paid lots of attention. Therefore, I don't think it's a truly fair criticism to levy against the Bible, though her outrage at it is valid. Second, in this specific case, many judges who are majorly faithless in the stories we have are praised in Hebrews. This includes Gideon and Samson as well as Jephthah. It's not just about Jephthah's daughter. Many questionable characters were praised in this chapter. This leads to the third and most major point: if we believe that this is God's word (as Christians have since the beginning) then we need to make space for a God who can see what we cannot. Several questionable people are praised in Hebrews 11, and other questionable ones are praised in other parts of the Bible. We could just dismiss them all and say we know now better., as Trible does here. Yet, in my opinion, that is both arrogant and faithless. We cannot let our ideologies tear us away from the convictions our people have had for millennia. Rather, our communal Christian convictions should frame our ideologies.
For those reasons, though I loved the essays and will recommend the book, I lowered the rating to four stars. Most of Trible's criticisms and thoughts were true and valid, but in the final analysis, they needed to be better balanced by a devotion to God and her Christian people.
May 17, 2024
"In addition to the guides for telling and hearing these texts, certain provisions sustain the journey. They are few but ample: a perspective, a methodology, and a story. Jacob's wrestling at the Jabbok is the story; literary criticism, the methodology; and feminism, the perspective.
As a critique of culture and faith in light of misogyny, feminism is a prophetic movement, examining the status quo, pronouncing judgment, and calling for repentance. This hermeneutic engages scripture in various ways. One approach documents the case against women. It cites and evaluates long neglected data that show the inferiority, subordination, and abuse of the female in ancient Israel and the early church. By contrast, a second approach discerns within the Bible critiques of patriarchy. It upholds forgotten texts and reinterprets familiar ones to shape a remnant theology that challenges the sexism of scripture. Yet a third approach incorporates the other two. It recounts tales of terror in memoriam to offer sympathetic readings of abused women. If the first perspective documents misogyny historically and sociologically, this one appropriates the data poetically and theologically. At the same time, it continues to search for the remnant in unlikely places. Such an approach characterizes these essays. It interprets stories of outrage on behalf of their female victims in order to recover a neglected history, to remember a past that the present embodies, and to pray that these terrors shall not come to pass again. In telling sad stories, a feminist hermeneutic seeks to redeem the time.
Joining this perspective is the methodology of literary criticism. As practiced here, it involves an intrinsic reading of the text in its final form. The phrase "intrinsic reading" means wholly upon the text rather than wholly within the text. To elicit understanding, analysis brings conventions to literature. These learned procedures, tools, and controls vary from critic to critic and from age to age. For this study, accent is upon the inseparability of form, content, and meaning; the rhetorical formation of sentences, episodes, and scenes as well as overall design and plot structure; and the portrayal of characters, most especially the violated women.
...If literary criticism is the methodology and feminism the perspective, Jacob's wrestling at the Jabbok provides the story for our journey. On his way home after years of sojourn, Jacob spends a night alone in combat against an inscrutable opponent. The story suggests that this "man" is deity, and yet a precise identity remains uncertain. Darkness by the river Jabbok conceals meaning while revealing the perplexity and terror of the event.
The fight is close to an even match. As Jacob prevails, the man puts out of joint the hollow of Jacob's thigh. Their physical struggle yields to a verbal contest, with Jacob refusing to let the man go unless he blesses him. The night visitor deflects this demand by eliciting a confession of the name Jacob as trickster, cheater, or supplanter.' To reorient the identity of the patriarch, he changes that name to Israel ("God rules"). But again, Jacob wants to trick the assailant. "Tell me, I pray, your name," he asks. Although the request demonstrates a continuing desire for power, it is defeated by an all-knowing question, "Why is it that you ask my name?" Only then does the powerful opponent bless the mighty striver. What Jacob wants, he does not get on his own terms. The outcome acknowledges both the crippling victory and the magnificent defeat of that night." Jacob's life is preserved, but he limps as he leaves the Jabbok.
As a paradigm for encountering terror, this story offers sustenance for the present journey. To tell and hear tales of terror is to wrestle demons in the night, without a compassionate God to save us. In combat we wonder about the names of the demons. Our own names, however, we all too frightfully recognize. The fight itself is solitary and intense. We struggle mightily, only to be wounded. But yet we hold on, seeking a blessing: the healing of wounds and the restoration of health. If the blessing comes — and we dare not claim assurance — it does not come on our terms. Indeed, as we leave the land of terror, we limp."
As a critique of culture and faith in light of misogyny, feminism is a prophetic movement, examining the status quo, pronouncing judgment, and calling for repentance. This hermeneutic engages scripture in various ways. One approach documents the case against women. It cites and evaluates long neglected data that show the inferiority, subordination, and abuse of the female in ancient Israel and the early church. By contrast, a second approach discerns within the Bible critiques of patriarchy. It upholds forgotten texts and reinterprets familiar ones to shape a remnant theology that challenges the sexism of scripture. Yet a third approach incorporates the other two. It recounts tales of terror in memoriam to offer sympathetic readings of abused women. If the first perspective documents misogyny historically and sociologically, this one appropriates the data poetically and theologically. At the same time, it continues to search for the remnant in unlikely places. Such an approach characterizes these essays. It interprets stories of outrage on behalf of their female victims in order to recover a neglected history, to remember a past that the present embodies, and to pray that these terrors shall not come to pass again. In telling sad stories, a feminist hermeneutic seeks to redeem the time.
Joining this perspective is the methodology of literary criticism. As practiced here, it involves an intrinsic reading of the text in its final form. The phrase "intrinsic reading" means wholly upon the text rather than wholly within the text. To elicit understanding, analysis brings conventions to literature. These learned procedures, tools, and controls vary from critic to critic and from age to age. For this study, accent is upon the inseparability of form, content, and meaning; the rhetorical formation of sentences, episodes, and scenes as well as overall design and plot structure; and the portrayal of characters, most especially the violated women.
...If literary criticism is the methodology and feminism the perspective, Jacob's wrestling at the Jabbok provides the story for our journey. On his way home after years of sojourn, Jacob spends a night alone in combat against an inscrutable opponent. The story suggests that this "man" is deity, and yet a precise identity remains uncertain. Darkness by the river Jabbok conceals meaning while revealing the perplexity and terror of the event.
The fight is close to an even match. As Jacob prevails, the man puts out of joint the hollow of Jacob's thigh. Their physical struggle yields to a verbal contest, with Jacob refusing to let the man go unless he blesses him. The night visitor deflects this demand by eliciting a confession of the name Jacob as trickster, cheater, or supplanter.' To reorient the identity of the patriarch, he changes that name to Israel ("God rules"). But again, Jacob wants to trick the assailant. "Tell me, I pray, your name," he asks. Although the request demonstrates a continuing desire for power, it is defeated by an all-knowing question, "Why is it that you ask my name?" Only then does the powerful opponent bless the mighty striver. What Jacob wants, he does not get on his own terms. The outcome acknowledges both the crippling victory and the magnificent defeat of that night." Jacob's life is preserved, but he limps as he leaves the Jabbok.
As a paradigm for encountering terror, this story offers sustenance for the present journey. To tell and hear tales of terror is to wrestle demons in the night, without a compassionate God to save us. In combat we wonder about the names of the demons. Our own names, however, we all too frightfully recognize. The fight itself is solitary and intense. We struggle mightily, only to be wounded. But yet we hold on, seeking a blessing: the healing of wounds and the restoration of health. If the blessing comes — and we dare not claim assurance — it does not come on our terms. Indeed, as we leave the land of terror, we limp."
January 1, 2021
Trigger Warning: Violence against women and rape! This book devastated me, as Trible tells the sad stories of the neglected women of the Hebrew Bible, the women who all too often are out of sight and mind by the traditions who read these scriptures. “To tell and hear tales of terror is to wrestle demons in the night, without a compassionate God to save us” (pg.4). Chapter one tells of Hagar an Egyptian slave and the second wife of Abraham. Hagar is abused by Sarah, neglected by Abraham, and belittled by God: Genesis 16:1-16, 21:9-21. Chapter two tells the story of Tamar, the princess of Israel and Daughter of King David. Tamar, raped by her brother Amon, avenged by her Absalom, and ignored by her father: 2 Samuel 13:1-22. Chapter three tells the story of an unnamed woman who is raped, murdered, mutilated, and used to justify the Davidic Dynasty: Judges 19:1-30. The unnamed woman, Jane Doe's story affected me the greatest causing me to stop cry. Lastly, in chapter four the forgotten Daughter of Jephthah is remembered, who is murdered by her father due to a vow, mourned by the women, forgotten by the latter Biblical tradition while her father is uplifted including both the Apocrypha and the NT: Judges 11:29-40. Trible asks us to read these stories in a new light and respond differently than the biblical authors and differently than the traditions that have followed and read these texts as scripture. In doing so, Trible finally humanizes women who for so long have been regarded as objects by the men in the text, the authors, and the religious readers. 5 stars.
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