The Ugly Stories of the Bible

A Hebrew word appears at some of the darkest turns in Israel’s story. Once recognized, it reveals a disturbing pattern. The word is nevalah (נְבָלָה). English translations render it “outrage,” “disgraceful thing,” “folly,” or “senseless act,” but no single expression carries its full force. It describes an extreme covenant violation: a behavior that rejects covenant wisdom in the most outrageous way possible.

The word that names the outrage

In Genesis 34, Shechem takes Dinah, violates her, and defiles her. Jacob’s sons are furious “because he had done an outrageous thing (נְבָלָה, nevalah) in Israel by lying with Jacob’s daughter, for such a thing must not be done” (Gen 34:7). The phrase “in Israel” gives the crime communal significance.

The wording returns in 2 Samuel 13. Amnon, King David’s son, traps his half-sister Tamar and refuses to hear her pleas. She tells him, “Such a thing is not done in Israel. Do not do this outrageous thing (נְבָלָה, nevalah)” (2 Sam 13:12). Tamar names the act and appeals to the extreme limits of Israel’s moral boundaries. Amnon overpowers her anyway.

The word appears again in Judges 19. (This, of course is the most scariest and ugliest story reported in the entire Bible!) A Levite and his concubine spend the night in Gibeah, a town in the territory of the tribe of Benjamin. “Worthless men” surround the house and demand the guest. The host begs, “Do not do this outrageous thing (נְבָלָה, nevalah)” (Judg 19:23), then offers his daughter and the concubine instead. The Levite takes hold of his concubine (פִּילֶגֶשׁ) and sends her outside.

Israelite town as Sodom

Judges 19 does more than reuse a word. It deliberately recalls Genesis 19. In both stories, travelers enter a city seeking shelter (Gen 19:1–3; Judg 19:15–21). Men surround the host’s house and demand that the male guests be brought out “that we may know them” (Gen 19:4–5; Judg 19:22). Both hosts call the attackers “my brothers,” plead with them not to act wickedly, and offer women in place of the male guests (Gen 19:6–8; Judg 19:23–24).

The repeated language transforms Gibeah into another Sodom. An Israelite town has reproduced the wickedness from which Israel was supposed to remain distinct. Indeed, Gibeah appears even worse: in Sodom, the visitors are rescued; in Gibeah, the woman is abandoned to the mob (Gen 19:10–11; Judg 19:25–28). The literary connection between the two narratives is widely recognized because of these close verbal and structural parallels.

Even Israel’s attempted solution repeats the original problem. The outrage at Gibeah leads to a civil war that nearly destroys Benjamin (Judg 20:12–48). To preserve the tribe, the Israelites slaughter the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead and give four hundred surviving young women to the Benjaminites (Judg 21:8–14). When these are insufficient, Israel’s leaders devise another plan: the remaining men may seize young women dancing at Shiloh and take them as wives (Judg 21:19–23). The tribe survives, but women again bear the cost.

The Book of Judges closes with its moral verdict: “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Judg 21:25).

A strikingly similar transformation appears in Revelation in a seemingly unrelated text. John describes the death of the two witnesses:

“Their bodies will lie in the public square of the great city, which is figuratively called Sodom and Egypt, where also their Lord was crucified” (Rev 11:8).

The final clause points most naturally to Jerusalem, the city associated with Jesus’ crucifixion (Luke 13:33–34; John 19:17–20). Yet John gives Jerusalem the symbolic names “Sodom” and “Egypt.” Sodom represents profound corruption and rebellion against God, while Egypt recalls oppression and hostility toward His people. This follows an established prophetic pattern in which unfaithful Jerusalem is addressed as Sodom or compared with her (Isa 1:9–10; Jer 23:14; Ezek 16:46–52).

Elsewhere in Revelation, “the great city” designates Babylon, the world power opposed to God and identified by many interpreters with imperial Rome (Rev 14:8; 16:19; 17:18; 18:10). Revelation 11:8 therefore participates in a larger symbolic geography, although the precise relationship between Jerusalem and Babylon/Rome remains debated. Cities outwardly separated by geography can acquire the same spiritual identity when they oppose God, persecute His witnesses, and sacrifice the innocent.

The men who did not protect

Jacob hears what happened to Dinah and waits until his sons return (Gen 34:5). The text does not explain his motive. More striking is the narrative silence: Dinah receives no dialogue. After Simeon and Levi massacre Shechem’s men, Jacob’s recorded concern is the danger facing his household: “You have brought trouble on me” (Gen 34:30). The men debate honor, revenge, and survival while her voice remains unheard.

David hears what Amnon did to Tamar and becomes “furious” (2 Sam 13:21), but the narrative records no discipline or protection for her. Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, tells her to remain silent. Two years later he has Amnon killed. This incident does not excuse Absalom’s murder, but it shows how unaddressed violence breeds more violance. Nathan’s earlier judgment, after David took Bathsheba and arranged Uriah’s death, warned that the sword and public sexual humiliation would enter David’s household (2 Sam 12:10-12).

The Levite’s response is colder still. He finds his concubine at the doorway and commands, “Get up, let us be going” (Judg 19:28). When she does not answer, he cuts her body into twelve pieces and sends them through Israel. In retelling the crime, he omits his role in handing her over and claims the men intended to kill him, something the original account does not state (Judg 20:4-6). He presents himself as the intended victim while the woman who died becomes secondary. The man who failed to protect her now controls her story.

These texts emerged from patriarchal societies, yet they expose rather than conceal the catastrophic failure of men who sacrifice women to protect male honor and power. However, it is clear that it showcases a covenantal critique of the “men” who do not protect their women but instead use and abuse them. The whole point of these horrible stories is clear: Men in Israel needed to know their duty to their wives, which was not what was sometimes seen in the darkest moments of Israel’s history.

Jesus, the True Man

The story begins in Bethlehem of Judah and moves toward Gibeah, a geographical detail that later becomes deeply significant. Bethlehem will become the setting of Ruth, where faithfulness, protection, and redemption replace the violence of Judges. From Ruth and Boaz will come David, Israel’s future king (Ruth 4:17–22). Gibeah, by contrast, becomes closely associated with Saul, Israel’s first king (1 Sam 10:26; 15:34). Thus Judges 19 quietly places two future royal centers on the biblical map. From corrupt Gibeah comes Saul’s troubled house; from Bethlehem comes David and, ultimately, Jesus the Messiah (Mic 5:2; Matt 2:1–6).

Jesus does not merely observe the pattern of nevalah from afar. The Word became flesh and entered fully into human vulnerability (John 1:14; Gal 4:4; Heb 2:14–17). These texts emerged from patriarchal societies, yet they expose rather than conceal the catastrophic failure of men who sacrificed women to protect male honor and power. Jesus reveals a radically different kind of manhood. Earthly rulers use others to preserve their power, but He came “not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:42–45). Where men used women’s bodies as claims to power, Jesus gave His own body as the ultimate expression of self-giving love (John 10:11, 17–18; Eph 5:2). Where suffering women were silenced, He saw them, heard them, and restored their dignity. He even addressed one suffering woman as “Daughter” (Mark 5:25–34; Luke 13:10–16).

Jesus became the innocent victim on the cross, handed over by the powerful, stripped, exposed, and killed (Matt 27:26–35; Acts 4:27–28; 1 Pet 2:22–24). He did not exploit others to secure His throne. Instead, He humbled Himself and surrendered His own life (Phil 2:6–8). He bore the weight of human sin and violence so that they would not determine our final destiny (Isa 53:4–6; 1 Pet 2:24). Through His resurrection, He declared that sin, violence, and death would not have the last word (1 Cor 15:20–26, 54–57).

Now Jesus calls His people to reject the failures displayed in these ancient stories. They must protect the vulnerable, bear one another’s burdens, expose evil, and walk in self-giving love (Eph 5:2, 11; Gal 6:2; Jas 1:27). His is a kingdom in which women and men share equal dignity before God, the suffering are not forgotten, and injustice is confronted (Gal 3:28; Jas 2:1–9). The King who refused to look away now calls us to live and love as He did.