Sisters at Sinai: New Tales of Biblical Women

The Song of Devorah and Yael

167 In the days of Shamgar, son of Anat, in the days of Yael the paths ended, and travelers walked on roundabout paths. —JUDGES 5:6* Sarai who is in Issachar was with Devorah, and Issachar was like Barak. —MODELED ON JUDGES 5:15 Listen, this misshapen boulder. Listen, smell of sage burning. Listen, these broken bronze axles. Listen, this Mount Tabor. Listen, the echoes of this hammer. Listen, the echoes of this song. We have a story. In the beginning, there was covenant. The covenant of Noah. The covenant of Abraham. Of Sinai. Of Ruth. And our beginning was covenant. THE SONG OF DEVORAH AND YAEL k * Author’s translation G reat gusts of laughter stormed across the campfires and rippled the vats of wine. Veterans jested with their peers, slapping the scabbards of their swords and the taut drums of their chests. Bits of song broke out here and there, echoes of the afternoon’s glory. Men of Zebulun laughed with men of Issachar. Benjaminites saluted drunkenly at men of Naftali. Barak walked from fire to fire, pounding men on the back. He joked about their bits of Canaanite spoil: leather vests, iron swords, arrowheads. A miracle, everyone said, a miracle, how the river flooded against nature, how the ruthless chariots jammed their wheels in the mud, how the little Kenite woman put a tent pin through the head of her husband’s ally. Inexplicable. Devorah’s prophecy had come to pass. There would be no raiding of Israelite villages next harvest. “The Canaanites must be whining now!” Barak cried as he approached the center of the camp. He was answered with a shout. He cried again, “The stars in their courses fought against Sisera!” The answer came. Men lifted their swords, signing what they would do to Israel’s oppressors. Youths raced to set gathered pine branches aflame. The fires sputtered and roared. “The men are ready to take the Philistine capital,” Barak confided in a whisper as the hoarse voices died down. Devorah stood alone on a flattened boulder, staff in hand. Her black hair was streaked with white. Her face was striped in blackness and flickering light. The song lingered on her lips. She crouched down so that her head was level with Barak’s. “Yes. A few days to rest. Then we will go to the plains. King Yavin’s people will not have regrouped within that time. God will give us victory.” “Just as in your dreams.” Barak laughed up at her, mocking her even as he honored her. Resenting her? Suddenly she was tired of his laughter. She retreated to the center of her stone. Barak wan168 S I S T E R S A T S I N A I dered off toward a gathering of Naftali soldiers, to be at home among the roasted joints and wine of his own tribe. He was unconcerned by her silence. He had not asked to share her life, only her greatness. Devorah watched him go, her hands clasped behind her back, thoughtful. Her brown robe billowed in a sudden wind. A hand fell on her shoulder. She reached up to clasp it gently. It was Sarai of the tribe of Issachar. Devorah could tell by the smallness and strength of the fingers she grasped. Sarai was inheritor of her father’s chiefdom. Her father had no sons, and she had strength and subtlety of mind in a time when strategy was necessary for survival. On her account, the people of Issachar were called yodei itim, “knowers of times,” for she always seemed to know the right time for an attack, a question, a shift in tribal law—or a romance, Devorah thought. The tribe of Issachar, like Barak, had followed a woman into battle, and so Devorah had not been lonely. “You are my life’s comfort, Sarai,” Devorah said quietly as the slender form arranged itself near her. “Nonsense,” replied Sarai, tossing her dark red hair. “What is between us will end when the campaign ends—but that is not why I came from my tent to speak with you.” “Why, then?” Devorah asked. “There is a man coming,” Sarai told her. “My scouts have seen him, as have Barak’s. He is allied to the enemy, but they give him safe passage here because he seeks your justice. He is searching for his wife.” Devorah yawned elaborately, feigning unconcern...