The Abduction of a Sabine Woman inspires three distinct narratives: a story of art, a story of ancient Rome, and a curious biblical parallel. Having explored the stories of art and Rome in our previous installments, we now turn to the biblical parallel. (If you missed these posts, catch up with Part 1 here and Part 2 here).
The context for Giambologna’s Abduction is a Roman myth. According to Livy, early Rome secured its survival by hosting a festival for its neighbors, only to ambush the guests and abduct their women to become Roman wives.* Livy composed this bit as part of his monumental History of Rome. (You can read his account of the mass abduction here.)**
The Israelite civil war pits all Israel against the tribe of Benjamin. Image from here (accessed 6/17/2026).
A Biblical Story
Lurking in the tailpiece of the book of Judges (chapters 19-21) is “The Worst Story in the Bible.” Here a shocking act of rape and murder brings home the theme of social chaos sprinkled throughout this Iron Age narrative. The People of God have lost their identity and mission. “Every man does what is right in his own eyes” is a plea for a corrective: a righteous king who will do right things. (Spoiler alert: flip the page to meet Samuel the king-maker). Without such leadership, the Gibeah fiasco leads to an all out civil war against the tribe of Benjamin. The sorry book of Judges staggers toward a sorry end.
Because of the civil war in this “Worst Story,” the fighting men of Benjamin are destroyed. But with wrath still smoldering, the rest of the tribal leaders take an oath: “No one of us shall give his daughter in marriage to the Benjamin-men.” With few survivors and no future hope, the reader is led to believe that the demise of this mountain-tribe is just a matter of time.
Far too late, the collective realizes the conundrum their rash words have created: a tribe of Israel will be eliminated. They stew in uncertainty, “What shall we do for wives for those who are left, since we have sworn by YHWH that we will not give them any of our daughters for wives?” Like Jephthah—a tormented soul from earlier in the book’s pages—they have backed themselves into a no-win situation.
Their imagined “solution” comes in two moves. Both are offensive (and therefore consistent with the tone of the book). They will pilfer Israelite wives for the Benjamin-men from the towns of Jabesh-Gilead and Shiloh.
Detail from Giambologna’s marble version of The Abduction of a Sabine Woman.
First Move: Pilfer the Jabesh-Gilead Girls
Since the warriors of Jabesh-Gilead were a no-show in the war against Benjamin, they didn’t take the rash vow against sharing their daughters. They become an easy target. The tribes decide to make war against Jabesh-Gilead by putting it “under the ban” or “devoting” it [haram] as Israel did the Canaanites in the previous generation. All the men of Jabesh-Gilead and all the sexually-experienced women are slaughtered. Only 400 virgins are spared. These daughters of Manasseh are carried back to the centrally-located settlement of Shiloh. There, they are graciously (!) redistributed to the Benjamin-men to wife.
The first move is a horrible decision on top of a horrible decision. But the mess is far from over.
Detail from Giambologna’s marble version of The Abduction of a Sabine Woman.
Second Move: Pilfer the shiloh girls
Apparently the 400 daughters of Manasseh are insufficient to meet Benjamin’s need, so a second move must be planned. An annual YHWH-feast in the village of Shiloh provides the opportunity. The leaders of Israel instruct the remaining partnerless Benjamin-men to come to Shiloh at the time of the feast and hide in its vineyards. When the Shiloh girls come out to dance in the dances (lit. “whirl in the whirls”), the ambushers are to spring out, each one snatch his woman, . . . then beat a hasty retreat.
A shoddy rationale is also appended to the plan. If any surviving males of the kidnapped girls complain, the perpetrators will say to them (imaginative translation coming): “Hey (glaring look), pipe down. Give us these girls since we did not snatch any of your other women in our war against you. If we had, your situation would be even worse. Your conscience should be clear because you did not give these girls to us. We just took them.” In sum, hush up and walk away.
It’s all whitewash. Careful readers find themselves gasping even before the wild party starts.
The entrapping feast goes off as planned. Dancers dance, ambushers ambush, young women are surprised and snatched, everybody runs off, and no oaths are broken. The tribe of Benjamin has been saved and everybody is free of guilt.
Except they are not.
It is an ill-advised act, premeditated, egregious, and totally wrapped in false piety. Ironically, this hot mess happens in Shiloh (of all places), the earthly doorstep of YHWH. Here, the tabernacle is pitched. Here, the high priests dwells. And here this atrocity happens at the portal between heaven and earth.
Detail from Giambologna’s marble version of The Abduction of a Sabine Woman.
Putting it all together
It is impossible to make the case for literary dependence, suggesting that Livy’s (or Plutarch’s) story of the Sabine women is somehow modeled after the story of the Shiloh girls. The two narratives are too far removed from each other in time, space, and culture. And yet, the invitation to compare and contrast cannot be resisted.
Both accounts are driven by a same problem. Neither Rome nor Benjamin have the resources necessary to thrive, reproduce, or survive beyond a generation or two.
Both accounts use the occasion of a festival as a trap. It is at the party, while dancing or observing religious ceremonies, that unsuspecting women are ambushed.
Both accounts require physical force to achieve their ends. The Hebrew text of Judg 21:21 uses the verb khataf, suggesting the Shiloh girls were quickly and violently carried off (like prisoners). The Latin-writing Livy uses a strong verb raptae here suggesting the girls were “seized by force,” “plundered,” or even in late Latin, “raped.”
Both accounts highlight the circumvention of oaths. The neighbors swore not to give their daughters to Romans as wives because of their rough character. Similarly, the Israelites swore not to give their daughters to the Benjamin-men because of their deeds.
And finally, in both accounts, assimilation seemingly takes place. The kidnapped women settle into their new situation with their kidnappers. Families are produced and life continues (which, after all, is somehow the goal of these tragic victories).
Contrasts are also obvious.
The Romans escapade is forward-driven, described as a state-sponsored survival tactic directed by Romulus. The Israelite debacle, on the other hand, is a drive in reverse, conceived as a loophole to blind legalism. It is a work-around advised in hindsight by a community of tribal elders.
The women in both stories are absorbed by the systems that kidnapped them. However, in the case of the Sabine situation, the women rebound as leaders and peacemakers. They are the ones, not the men, who negotiate and manage to avert the developing war. By contrast, the Shiloh girls have no voice, no role, no expressed feelings in the text. They are truly pawns in a patriarchal society.
This last observation prompts a final conclusion. Whereas both the story the Sabine women and the story of the Shiloh girls are told by their respective authors without explicit judgment, only the latter is artistically sophisticated enough to offer condemnation indirectly. The biblical story is so utterly atrocious that it demands its readers rise up against the inhumanity of those who would design or enact such wild parties, kidnapping, and wife-snatching.
*Plutarch (second century AD) also records the story of the Sabine women in chapters 14-19 of his Life of Romulus. His second century approach is more gritty, psychological, and focused on Roman traditions. We have chosen to confine ourself to Livy’s account in this discussion.
**Livy was a first-century author and contemporary of Jesus Christ. His ultimate goal was to glorify Rome’s legendary ancestors while validating the imperial regime of Caesar Augustus (Livy knew how to butter bread!). While he drew from ancient records and oral traditions to shape his narrative, modern scholars generally view his work as an act patriotic mythmaking rather than sober history. Having said this, I still believe Livy to be superior to that yarner Plutarch!
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