When Israel was ungoverned. She declares that when Israel had become undisciplined — either by casting off restraint, or through weakness (as in, “for the people were unrestrained”) — so that chaos abounded; then, if volunteers arose from among the people to act courageously, this could not be explained naturally but only as the work of God. Hence, “Bless Hashem,” for it was from Him that this came.

Hear, O kings. Along with your rulers, the advisors of state. (It is established in my view that “hearing” applies to matters of greater significance, while “hearkening” applies to lesser matters, as explained in Isaiah 1.) O kings, do not suppose that this triumph was due to natural causes; rather, “I, to Hashem — I will sing.” I ascribe this victory to Hashem alone, and to Him I offer praise.

There is a difference between “shir” (song) and “zemer” (psalm). “Zemer” denotes a higher form of praise than “shir,” which is why Scripture consistently says, “Sing to Him, chant to Him,” or “I will sing and I will chant,” with the chant intensifying the song. I have explained that “zemer” is used particularly when praising God for acts of providence, miracles, or extraordinary intervention.

There is a difference between the name “Hashem” and the title “the God of Israel.” The latter consistently refers to His particular providence over Israel, through which He raises them by miraculous intervention. Thus she declares that she will sing in recognition of Him as Hashem — Creator and universal Governor — and she will chant in recognition of Him as the God of Israel, who guides them through extraordinary and miraculous providence.

These two verses function as a preface to the Song itself; from here onward the actual song commences.

Hashem, when You went forth from Seir. These two verses lead into the statement “in the days of Shamgar,” forming a contrast between the early era of Israel’s might and the later decline in Shamgar’s time. The poet recalls that when Israel entered the land, having encircled Edom, Hashem their King went before them from Seir toward Moab (the surrounding regions poetically termed “the field of Edom”), and then proceeded toward the territories of Sihon, Og, and Canaan. At that time, the earth quaked — as if all existence trembled: earth and heaven alike; even the celestial hosts melted before them, and the clouds above poured forth rain.

And the mountains melted. They dissolved downward until all was liquefied. “Before Hashem — this is Sinai” means that they melted before Hashem who came forth from Mount Sinai and endowed His people with power; before Hashem as the God of Israel, manifest through His intimate providence and the miracles He wrought on their behalf.

In the days of Shamgar. Observe the stark contrast in Shamgar’s era and afterward in Jael’s time: the main roads fell into disuse — meaning the trade caravans ceased (as in “a caravan of Ishmaelites,” referring to organized travelers). Even solitary travelers who used narrow paths (distinguishing between the broad road, “derekh,” and the smaller track, “netiv”) resorted to crooked routes. Fear prevented them from using the straight highways; instead they detoured along winding side paths that branched off from the main road toward villages. They abandoned direct roads and took only circuitous ones.

And likewise, “the open settlements ceased.” The people withdrew into fortified cities out of fear of the enemy. “In Israel they ceased” — indicating that, just as when Israel first entered the land villages and roads had once ceased — then it was the Canaanites who confined themselves within strongholds in fear of Israel. But now the situation was reversed: it was Israel whose rural settlements disappeared, not the Canaanites, because the Canaanite had prevailed over them.

Until I, Deborah, arose. This condition persisted through the days of Shamgar, until she stood up.

That I arose as a mother in Israel. She uses figurative language, as if Israel had ceased to function as a people and were now newly reborn; and she stood as the mother who brought the whole nation forth again.

He chose. At Israel’s initial entry into the land, the advance guard — the forty thousand armed men from Reuben and Gad — crossed before the nation (Joshua 4). Yet in the present crisis, none of that former vanguard appeared; instead, the fighters were from Zebulun and Naphtali. The poet therefore speaks loftily: the forty thousand once chosen by God to wage war in the open field did not fight now at the city gates. With fortified cities now under threat, God needed to appoint new warriors.

The meaning is that God selected fresh combatants for a different kind of warfare — defense of gates and strongholds — because none of the earlier champions came forward. Among those original forty thousand not even shield or spear was seen, as if their prior selection had been for open battle, not for urban defense. (The term “lacham” has troubled commentators, since grammatically the verb would require a different vocalization; in my interpretation it is a noun, meaning “warfare at the gates.”)

My heart. Therefore I directed my heart toward the leaders of Israel — the willing ones among the people, the ten thousand who marched with Barak — that they might bless Hashem, for salvation came through a small number, without power and without battle in the usual sense.

You who ride. He addresses three strata within the nation: first, the affluent merchants riding white donkeys; second, those seated in judgment — the leaders and scholars; and third, the poor who travel on foot in search of sustenance. Let all of you together declare and recount the mighty deeds of God.

From the sound. At the watering places along the Kishon, Hashem produced a resounding noise that to Sisera seemed like the crash of great forces — as though vast armies were approaching. Because of this, they proclaim the just deeds of Hashem on behalf of Israel.

“His righteous acts toward the open settlements” — in poetic language, when Israel retreated to the fortified gates out of fear, it was then that Hashem manifested Himself in the unfortified villages, without walls or bars — meaning that at that moment He laid bare His mighty arm in open salvation.

Awake, awake. Stir yourself in recollection of the magnitude of this wondrous deliverance.

Rise, Barak, and carry off your captives. He was not required to fight, only to gather the spoils of the defeated foe. In other words, Deborah’s role was in song, and Barak’s in collecting captives and booty — the victory itself was not achieved by their strength.

Then. She clarifies the marked contrast between the earlier salvation brought about by Ehud, which followed a natural course, and this present salvation, which came directly from Hashem. Thus “Then” refers back to the era of Ehud.

A remnant went down for the mighty. The “remnant” refers to Ehud, who survived after slaying Eglon. The phrase “for the mighty” means that he acted with the aid of mighty warriors. Ehud subdued Moab with the support of strong men who joined him, as described when he sounded the shofar and Israel descended with him from the hills. Thus he prevailed over a weakened, scattered Moab through human strength.

In contrast, in my case it was Hashem who descended on my behalf. Neither I nor mighty warriors accomplished the victory; Hashem Himself acted. And this was not against a feeble people, but against true warriors — the army of Sisera. (The verb “descended” comes from the root meaning “to subdue,” in an intensive form.)

From Meni. He clarifies who the “mighty” were in the earlier verse: they were from Ephraim, who joined Ehud; their lineage traced to Amalek, and they struck Amalek, who had allied with Moab (Judges 3:14). “After you” refers to Ehud — Benjamin followed after him among his people, since Ehud was of that tribe. These were powerful, heroic fighters.

But in this war it was not seasoned warriors who came. From Machir descended lawgivers — scholars and judges, not soldiers. And from Zebulun came those who handle the scribe’s staff — writers and teachers, not men bearing shield and sword.

Similarly, the leaders of Issachar who accompanied Deborah were men learned in Torah. And the tribe of Issachar that marched with Barak went down into the valley on foot, having no cavalry, no chariots, and no trained warriors for battle.

At the divisions. The poet reflects with sorrow upon the two tribes, Reuben and Dan, who did not come to the war. For in the days of Joshua, Reuben marched at the head of the camps, and Dan served as the rear guard for all the camps; yet now they did not appear.

And if you examine the boundaries of the land, you will find that all the tribes were close to the field of battle, for Mount Tabor lay within the territory of Issachar. To its south were the portions of Judah, Simeon, the sons of Joseph, and Benjamin. And since Sisera had spread his forces against Issachar, Zebulun, and Naphtali—against whom he fought—he could easily have fallen upon any of the other tribes without obstacle. For the territory of Gad and half of Manasseh bordered Issachar across the Jordan; to the south it bordered the territories of Joseph, Benjamin, and Judah; and to the northwest were Zebulun and Naphtali, whose inheritances touched one another, as it says regarding the inheritance of Asher (Joshua 19:27), “it reached Zebulun,” and regarding the inheritance of Naphtali (ibid., v. 34), “it reached Zebulun from the south, and it reached Asher on the west, and Judah by the Jordan toward the sunrise.”

Only the territories of Reuben and Dan were separated. For if the enemy had wished to attack the territory of Reuben, he would first have had to cross the Jordan into Gilead and pass through the regions of Gad and half of Manasseh. Likewise, if he had wished to attack Dan, whose territory lay in the southwestern corner, he would have had to pass through Asher.

Therefore she said, “At the divisions of Reuben”: that Reuben divided himself and did not come to the army—even though he had no fear that the enemy would fall upon him—“great were the searchings of heart.” This phrase means deep engravings and terrible impressions upon the heart, that is, a profound breaking of the heart.

Why did you sit still? You dwell on the frontier like a warrior, for one who sits on the border is responsible for restraining the enemy from entering the land and for being constantly ready for the day of battle. Yet when distress came and your strength failed, why did you sit among the sheepfolds? Was it in order to listen to the whistling of the flocks you had gathered, as it says, “And the children of Reuben had very great livestock”? Was this why you remained at the border?

But you might reply, “At the divisions of Reuben there were great searchings of heart.” That is to say, it is hardly necessary to inquire further about this, for the investigations of the heart are greater than the matter under discussion — since the reason is evident: Reuben said, “Why should I be afraid? Surely…”

Gilead remained across the Jordan. for Gilead lives beside me, guarding my land and standing as a barrier between me and the enemy. Therefore he did not come and did not share in the distress of his brothers.

And likewise, “Why did Dan remain by the ships?” Why did Dan occupy himself with trade and gather ships, and not come to help? This too has an evident reason: he said in his heart that since Asher dwells along the seashore and occupies its inlets, Asher stands between him and the enemy and guards the breaches of his land from the enemy’s approach. Therefore he did not come.

Zebulun. While the others held back, Zebulun alone scorned his life even to death, and Naphtali likewise exposed his life on the high places of the field of battle. Thus she concludes her point: the victory came through a small number and without human power.

They came. Just as in Joshua’s era Jabin of Hazor assembled the Canaanite kings at the waters of Merom (Joshua 11), so now he gathered kings once more and encamped by the waters of Megiddo. The poet intentionally fuses past and present: what happened now mirrors what happened then. The kings came and fought alongside Sisera, just as their predecessors once fought with Hazor’s king.

“They took no plunder of silver” — Jabin’s allies were not mercenaries; they did not fight for wages, just as in earlier days they had come without payment.

Similarly, from the heavens they fought — the stars from their pathways. The stars that had previously aided Israel in Joshua’s battles already possessed established routes — for “mesillah” signifies a prepared and accustomed road. From those same celestial tracks first laid in earlier times, they now battled Sisera. The poet’s image is symmetrical: as Sisera summoned allies from antiquity, Israel likewise received reinforcements from ancient cosmic powers.

Similarly, the River Kishon that carried them off is called the “river of antiquity,” for it had, in poetic conception, already swept away such armies in ancient days. The poet fuses the waters of Merom and the Kishon into one continuous symbolic stream.

My soul, tread down the mighty force. That is, my soul, tread upon this strength — meaning that you should step with your feet upon these powerful waters and cross over them.

Thus the meaning is: My soul, march powerfully across the river when the horses’ hooves pounded from the furious charge of Sisera’s warriors. The poet imagines the river’s waves as gallant heroes racing against Sisera’s chariots, striking at their horses’ legs. At that very instant — when the flooding stream overwhelmed Sisera’s army and the crashing sound was heard — Barak and his forces crossed the river on foot.

They came. Just as in Joshua’s era Jabin of Hazor assembled the Canaanite kings at the waters of Merom (Joshua 11), so now he gathered kings once more and encamped by the waters of Megiddo. The poet intentionally fuses past and present: what happened now mirrors what happened then. The kings came and fought alongside Sisera, just as their predecessors once fought with Hazor’s king.

“They took no plunder of silver” — Jabin’s allies were not mercenaries; they did not fight for wages, just as in earlier days they had come without payment.

Her hand. As explained earlier (4:21), she grasped the tent peg in one hand and the hammer in the other, intending to strike; however, she lacked the physical strength to drive it in fully. Through divine intervention, the peg sank into his temple on its own. Thus, “her hand reached for the peg, and her right hand for the hammer.” Both her hands were straining and fatigued (note that “hand” can appear in masculine grammatical form, as elsewhere in Scripture).

When it says she struck Sisera, it implies that her blow itself produced only a slight impression; nevertheless, through the crushing effect, even that small impact resulted in the peg piercing through his temple completely. Some commentators understand “weary” to refer to Sisera, but that interpretation does not align with proper grammar.

Between. Initially he knelt between her legs and lay down — understood by the Sages as implying intimacy. Then, in that same place between her legs, he knelt, fell, and died. The point is that precisely where he bent in desire, there he collapsed in ruin and met his death.

Through the window. There is a difference between a “window” and a “lattice”: the lattice is an elaborately constructed opening. Here it refers to a magical or divinatory window through which Sisera’s mother sought omens to learn his fate. Initially she peered through the window; later she perceived through the lattice — and then she began to cry out in lamentation.

According to this explanation, she saw in her vision Sisera fallen to the ground, a woman standing over him striking his head, blood flowing, and slain warriors with reddened necks. Hence the verse unfolds in stages: first she looks out the window asking, “Why is his chariot delayed?” and afterward she wails through the lattice, “Why are his chariot wheels slow?”

There is a difference between “boshesh” (tarrying) and “achar” (being late). “Boshesh” implies an unusual delay beyond what is normal, while “achar” denotes missing a definite, expected time of arrival. Thus, once the appointed time had clearly passed, she cried out, “Why have they been late?” She even added, “the steps of his chariots” — meaning that even if the chariot itself were taken, surely some messenger should have come to report the outcome. These thoughts arose as she peered into her window of divination.

Her wise noblewomen responded. These “wise” attendants attempted to interpret the divination in an auspicious manner, and even Sisera’s mother echoed her own earlier statements so as to cast the situation in a hopeful light.

Have they not found and divided the spoil? The wise women reinterpret the grim vision: the bloodied man seen lying on the ground is not Sisera, but a symbolic representation of the spoil itself. The divination clothed the plunder in the form of a man.

The woman standing over his head signifies captive women — the choicest part of the spoils. The blood on his head symbolizes dyed and embroidered garments destined for Sisera. The reddened necks represent richly woven fabrics, metaphorically forming the “neck” of this imagined man of spoil.

In other words, the omen did not depict death but abundance. The divination embodied the plunder as a symbolic human figure in the visionary scene.

Thus. Thus may all Your enemies be destroyed, O Hashem; but those who love Him shall resemble the sun in its rising, advancing in strength and radiance until full daylight, like a sun unobscured by clouds and unshadowed by gloom.

And the land had tranquility. Because they remained righteous throughout the lifetime of Deborah.