And Jephthah the humble farmer said to God, blood on his arms and death in his eyes, "Anything you would take of me, if we might win this day!" The clouds only rumbled more threateningly than before, and lightning struck, far across the line of battle. "Anything," Jephthah pled, falling down upon his knees to pray. "Take my life, if it will save this people."
But of his cry, nothing came. And so once more, Jephthah threw up his hands to the Heavens. This time, he made a gamble. "Let us win," he swore, "And I will sacrifice to you whatever living creature comes out of my door first when I arrive home. Be it my dog, be it my finest sow, be it my own flesh." Feeling satisfied that God had accepted the offer, Jephthah continued to fight. With his mighty sword he destroyed the enemy, and rejoiced that night with his soldiers. All the while, however, he wondered in slight panic which of his animals he would be giving up for the sake of his country. Finally the men parted to go back, and with a growing sense of dread, Jephthah didn't want to leave.
It was dawn when he returned home. Out from the threshold came his favorite child: his daughter, and she danced with ribbons in her hair and wrapped around her wrists, playing her hand-made tambourine and shouting with glee, "Father! I prayed to the Lord you would return – I swore to make a priestly gown if you did!"
Tears in his eyes, Jephthah fingered a knife behind his back, and embraced his only daughter.