Judges 4 “Things Are Seldom What They Seem”

(Lectionary for November 19, 2017)

I doubt many of you have preached many sermons from the book of Judges. I have done more than a few studies on this book in churches over the years, and I invariably title what I do, “Crazy, Murderous, and Lusty.” I add the lusty part to insure a good crowd. The stories of Judges are in many cases quite grim. There is Ehud, the left-handed Benjaminite (that tribal name means literally “the son of the right hand”!), who murders Eglon, the fat king of Moab, by strapping a short sword to his right thigh (he is left-handed, you remember), and though he is strip-searched before entering the inner room of the king, the guards apparently only feel for a weapon on his left thigh, never imagining there might in fact be a left-handed swordsman. Upon confronting the rotund king, he announces that he has a word from God for him. Eglon dutifully hauls himself to his feet to receive the divine message, whereupon Ehud rams his sword directly into his guts until the “dirt came out,” as the NRSV hilariously translates. One can only imagine that the “dirt” is in fact Eglon’s feces, released when he is stabbed and killed. That is made certain by the reaction of the guards who become alarmed at their king’s long delay in his private chambers and say, “he must be relieving himself (literal Hebrew is “covering his feet”) in the cool chamber” (Judges 3:24). The tales of Gideon and Jephthah and Samson among others contain their own scatological material that you may read for yourselves.

Today’s text appears on the surface rather more innocuous. It is the prose version of the far more famous poem of Judges 5, a very ancient piece that has captured the attention of most scholars and lay readers due to its great antiquity— some say it may be the oldest extended piece of literature in the entire Bible—and its vivid, though coarse, imagery. The story itself for both chapters 4 and 5 may easily be told, since it follows the distinctive editorial overlay that characterizes the tales of the book: Israel sins, God punishes them, they cry out, and God sends a deliverer in the person of a “judge,” usually a military leader who provides victory. But too soon Israel sins again, and the whole cycle begins again. With such a confining literary straight jacket, it would seem that little in the way of creativity could be employed as the stories are written. But in the case of Judges 4, that judgment would be quite wrong. But before I demonstrate some of the extraordinary care with which this tale is unfolded, we must enumerate the basic narrative.

Israel sins, after the death of Ehud, and YHWH sells Israel into the hands of Jabin, the so-called king of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor. Historically, there never was a “king of Canaan,” since the land for hundreds of years was dotted with many city states, each of which surely had its own leader or chieftain; the land of Canaan consisted of many small, and a few larger, municipalities with no central authority. Yet this Jabin is called king of Canaan, and for the story so he is. The more important figure is Jabin’s general, Sisera, the commander of Jabin’s army, who lives at the tongue-twisting city of Harosheth-ha-goiim, or “Harosheth of the Gentiles, or perhaps to the Israelite author, “Harosheth of the foreigners.” Sisera oppressed Israel for twenty long years, mainly due to his huge phalanx of nine hundred iron chariots (Jud.4:1-3).

The key word here is “iron”. Historically, the ancient world is catalogued by the material used by peoples to farm and fight. First, there is the stone age, followed by the discovery of metal-working, first bronze, a mixture of tin and copper, and then iron, a very much harder and more durable substance. Iron chariots are nothing less than a terrifying force, essentially impregnable to any small band armed with stones or arrows and spears.

But Sisera is about to meet his surprising match, not in an expected male warrior like Barak, although he will have at first his chance at victory, but in the persons of two women. The first is Deborah, a judge in the traditional sense, that is an adjudicator of legal tangles, and the second is Jael, an altogether different sort of woman. YHWH calls Deborah as judge in the military sense, and she in turn calls Barak and commands in the name of YHWH that he go to Mount Tabor and confront the forces of Sisera, promising him that YHWH “will give (Sisera) into your hand” (Jud.4:6-7).

In a most unwelcome surprise, Barak flat refuses to go, unless Deborah goes with him (Jud.4:8)! All right, she says, I will go with you, but the outcome of the struggle now is radically changed. “The road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for YHWH will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman” (Jud.4:9). We and Barak, I imagine, assume that woman to be Deborah, but he and we will be wrong about that. The story, as you can see, is riddled with twists and turns and unexpected events.

Barak assembles a huge army, but the story is careful to say that only happens, because “Deborah went with him” (Jud.4:10). And now the fun of the tale really begins. Sisera musters all his chariots, all nine hundred, and heads for Mount Tabor where he has been told Barak has brought his troops. And Deborah, back in divine judge mode, commands Barak, “Up! This is the day that YHWH has given Sisera into your hand. YHWH is indeed going out before you” (Jud.4:14)! She says this to Barak though he and we have just heard her say that YHWH is intent on giving Sisera into the hand of a woman. And exactly what does she mean by announcing that YHWH is “going before you?” Does she mean leading you or does she mean that YHWH has already acted before you arrive?

The answer, it appears, is the latter meaning of “before.” “YHWH threw Sisera and all his chariots and all his army into a panic (before the sword—see the NRSV footnote) before Barak” (Jud.4:15). The implication appears to be that YHWH routs Sisera’s army before Barak even arrives! In other words, Barak has precisely nothing to do with the defeat of the Canaanites.

Meanwhile Sisera has fled from the battle, leaving his slaughtered troops in the field, and heads for the tent of his ally, Heber the Kenite. He is met by Heber’s wife, Jael (Hebrew: “YHWH is God”), who seductively invites him into her tent. Her language is “sura, sura, Sisera” (Jud.4:18), and the terrified and exhausted general goes in. Once inside Jael covers him with a rug, presumably to hide him from his enemies. Though he asks her for some water, she brings him a skin of milk, and then the text says, “She covered him” (Jud.4:19). What does this mean? She has already covered him with a rug, so could it be that she now covers him with her own body, luring him into a sexual contact which makes even more tired, leading to his very sound sleep. And while he sleeps, Jael does her infamous murder by tent peg, and the general dies horribly in a spreading pool of his own blood.

At last comes Barak, who has been pursuing the remnants of Sisera’s army, seeking Sisera. Jael triumphantly shows to him the dead general, proving that Deborah has been right; there is to be no glory for the cowardly Barak, because YHWH has indeed given Sisera into the hand of a woman.

Such an amazingly surprising tale! Women are the major figures from first to last, and the males in the drama are both cowards, one ignominiously fleeing from the battle, the other reluctant to go to battle in the first place. Here in the ancient stories of Judges we find a woman’s tale where in countless ways things are seldom what they seem. God’s actions have been characterized by surprise again and again. God is less than predictable in the choice of actors for the divine drama. Is that not a facet of God’s character worth noting and celebrating?