Ash Wednesday © Jan L. Richardson
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent. The story of the daughter of Jephthah, which we began on Monday, never appears in the lectionary, in Lent or any other season. In the three-year rhythm of the readings that take us through much of the Bible, the narrative of this daughter—whose name has gone unrecorded—never comes around to confront us, to challenge us, to question us. To know her, we have to go looking for her. It is easier to allow her to remain hidden.
Yet it seems fitting that we invite her to accompany us as we cross into Lent; or, rather, that we go with her into her own terrain. Hers is a landscape whose contours bear curious semblances to the one that we will see Christ enter in the coming days, yet the outcome and legacy of one story is far different from the other. In Jesus we find the story of a son who, caught in circumstances not entirely of his making yet acting by his own choice, journeys toward his own sacrifice and death. With her, the story of a daughter who becomes an unwitting sacrifice through choices not her own. In the weeks ahead, as we remember and relive this familiar story of Jesus’ journey toward the cross, what might we find in this other tale, far less well known, of the journey of Jephthah’s daughter? How will we read her story in this season?
Wednesday
The last time this happened, this homecoming of Jephthah, is burned into my memory. It was in our fifteenth year, and we were just clearing away the evening meal to the melody of Miriam’s voice when she stopped abruptly, hastily bade us good-bye, and ran home. Word soon spread throughout the town that Jephthah had returned from a crushing victory against the Ammonites. The celebration began immediately, with people pouring outdoors as quickly as they could gather up their wineskins and fruit and whatever they had on hand.
I was startled when Miriam made her way to me through the crowd, moving slowly and with a somber look on her face. Without a word she drew me into the house and in a low voice told me what had happened following her greeting of Jephthah with a special song she had created for the victory she knew he would have—something about a vow, she whispered; a promise to Yahweh, a sacrifice, a burnt offering. I sank to the floor in horror as her words washed over me. Miriam . . . the burnt offering was to be Miriam.
Questions for Reflection
Imagine you are Miriam’s friend. What do you say? What do you do?
From Sacred Journeys © Jan Richardson
Typically (or, EXPECTANTLY) we expect Ash Wednesday devotionals to focus on the “Season of Sacrifice” which Lent represents.
My “Daily Word” DELIGHTED me with a message of renewal based on Mark 2:22 “No one outs new wine into old wineskins…”
“Ashes for this year’s Ash Wednesday are gathered from burning the prior year’s palm branchs. In that same way, I release old habits and thoughts as I prepare for the arising of new life in me. Today I pray: ‘Lord help me walk a path of renewal. I lift up my old life for purification, confident a new life rises from those ashes.”
NOW those are words which hint at sacrifice, but FOCUS on the RESULT!