The Chronicles of Shamgar

The Chronicles of Shamgar Son of Anath

“After him came Shamgar the son of Anath, who struck down six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad; and he also saved Israel.” - Judges 3:31

Twelve days after the New Year’s Festival, (1240 B.C.)
The wife suggests keeping a record to help keep track of tilling, sowing, harvesting and rainfall, so we can better plan our year. Good idea, I guess, far as it goes. Can’t see how this won’t be boring as Sheol, though.

Eight days before Sukkot, (1240 B.C.)
Fairly good rain so far this year, about four inches since the New Year. Good crop of olives.

Forty-five days after Sukkot, (1239 B.C.)
Tilling with oxen in south field and oxgoad just up and broke. Gave ol’ Melech a jab in the flank and the durn thing splintered on me. The wife says I don’t know my own strength, and take it easy on the ox. I say it’s just bad craftsmanship.

Will cut new oxgoad tomorrow, will make it thicker. Probably use oak this time.

Thirty-five days till Passover, (1239 B.C.)
Bad news from Lachish. Philistines burned down some houses and raided winter wheat stores. Have to get some of the men around here together in a militia, make some proper weapons.

Two days after Passover, (1239 B.C.)
Harvest coming along well. Good weather – not too dry, not too wet. Looking forward to grape harvest later this year. Have to make special thank offering next Sabbath.

More bad news about Philistines in Hebron, though. Every Israelite I talk to scared to death – ready to cut and run. Everyone does whatever’s right in his own eyes. Startin’ to irk me.

Sixteen days after Passover, (1239 B.C.)
Kind of a crazy day today.

Was in middle of harvest when I look up and see a squad of Philistines in south field. Had just enough time to run to tool shed and grab heaviest thing I could find – my new oxgoad.

Ran and met them nearly at the house. Wife screamin’ bloody murder. Uncircumcised rascals point and laugh. Say, “What’s that slave think he’s gonna do with a pointy stick?”

Well, they run up on me, and after I skewer three of ‘em the rest turn tail. I figure that’s the end of that, but the wife says “keep your eyes pealed.” She’s right as usual. An hour later a whole mess of the boogers show up!

I commence to skewering again, but after a hundred or so times of that, the point’s pretty blunted, so I just have to swing the thing.

Well, by the end I cut down 582 of the dirty varmints. I knowed it was 582 cause I had to hire a cart and move every single one of them fish-worshippers off my land.

Thanks to Yahweh for givin’ me strength to protect my home and family.

No thanks to dirty uncircumcised Philistines – I cracked my new oxgoad on some guy’s head. That’s two broke oxgoads in one year!!

Seventeen days after Passover, (1239 B.C.)
A whole passel of neighbors show up today, askin’ if I really struck down 600 Philistines.
“Nope,” I says. “’Twas 582, an I know that for a fact.”

Figure I may keep broken oxgoad – make a good story some day for grandkids.

Three days after Pentecost, (1239 B.C.)
Haven’t had a moment’s peace for a month. People from as far off as Beersheba comin’ to see me, askin’ did I really kill 600 Philistines, askin’ me to sign their oxgoads, givin’ me more oxgoads than I know what to do with, and yellin’ “Give ‘em Sheol, Shamgar!” day and night.

Lots of em ask how I managed it, and I just tell ‘em Yahweh was with me. Some folks nod, and some look disappointed, like they want to know all the gory details. I tell all the young folks that come by that it ain’t no picnic sendin’ another man down to Sheol, even a Philistine. It weighs on a man, even if he did it for good reason.

May need to get out of town for a while. Maybe take the kids up to Gilgal and see ol’ Joshua’s memorial stones, and the old walls of Jericho.

Late Summer, (1230 B.C.)
Been a good few years. Fig harvest really nice. Kids doin’ good work.

Every once in a while someone’ll ask about that crazy day with the Philistines. Still gotta correct people and say it weren’t no 600.

More I think on it, the luckier I know I was they didn’t have a giant, like granddad used to have to fight with the Amalakites. Big fellas like that have to be cut down to size, then hit square in the head. Have yet to meet the man that could tackle one alone.

Early Summer, (1215 B.C.)
Finally had to stop workin’ the fields. Got to depend on my boys now. Good grape harvest this year. New wine very sweet.

Heard about some long-haired kid killed 300 Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey. Sam-something. Rascal pulls the same stunt I did, but with the weirdest thing he could grab.

It’s strange – I used’ta worry all people’d know me for was killin’ a bunch of folks, now with everybody talkin’ about the kid I worry I won’t be remembered at all.

Oh, well. I got a good family. Things I hear about Sam-whatever, I’m afraid that boy’s bound for a bad end.

Early Fall, (1210 B.C.)
Strange thing happened today. Nice young Levite scribe shows up at the door, says he wants to ask me some questions about that day with the Philistines. Says he’s a writin’ a book. Asked me all kinds’a questions, tryin’ to get the whole story outta me.

I asked him what’s his book about, he says “Judges.” I told him I weren’t no judge. He says he figures a judge decides what’s fair for folks, and punishes evil-doers, and that I “fit solidly in the latter category.”

He says he wished there were more folks like me around. Told him I didn’t see that’d do much good. Punishing people don’t make people better mosta the time. What we really need is a man could just stop evil straight out, and save people from their sins. That man’d be a right good Judge. Be like havin’ God with us, in the flesh. He looked kinda shocked, like I was blasphemin’ or something. I tells him that’s just how I feel about it, and he can take it or leave it.

Anyway, the scribe fella went off a little unsatisfied, said my entry would be “brief.” Well, I hope his book does well, whether I’m in it or not.