The Israelites certainly did, after the triumphant victory led by Deborah.
The Legends of the Jews reminds us that the whole nation mourned Deborah for seventy long days, a testament to her impact. And for seven glorious years, the land knew peace. (Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, tells us this, drawing from various Midrashic sources.)
Can you imagine the joy, the relief? They sang a hymn, the Song of Deborah, a powerful expression of gratitude. And God, seeing their piety, forgave their transgressions. A clean slate, a fresh start.
But, as often happens in these stories, the peace didn't last. Why is that? What makes us so prone to wander?
According to the Legends, their backsliding was fueled by a Midianite priest named Aud. This Aud wasn't just any priest; he was a master of illusion, a sorcerer who could seemingly manipulate the very fabric of reality. He made the sun shine at midnight! Can you imagine the impact that would have? He used this spectacle to convince the Israelites that the idols of Midian were more powerful than God. It's a stark reminder of how easily we can be swayed by the spectacular, the immediate, even when it contradicts what we know to be true.
And God, seeing their straying hearts, allowed them to fall into the hands of the Midianites. They began to worship their own reflections in the water – a potent symbol of vanity and self-absorption, perhaps? And they were struck with terrible poverty. So dire was their situation that they couldn't even afford a simple meal offering, the offering of the poor. We find this in Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, drawing from various midrashic sources. : spiritual and material poverty hand-in-hand.
It was on the eve of Passover, of all nights – the night we remember liberation – that Gideon cried out in despair. "Where are all the wondrous works which God did for our fathers on this night," he lamented, "when he slew the first-born of the Egyptians, and Israel went forth from slavery with joyous hearts?" (Again, Ginzberg draws from various Midrashic sources for this narrative.) It’s a heartbreaking question, a plea born of desperation and a longing for the miracles of the past.
And then, God appeared to him. Not with thunder and lightning, but with a quiet affirmation: "Thou who art courageous enough to champion Israel, thou art worthy that Israel should be saved for thy sake."
What a powerful message! It wasn't about Gideon's perfection, but his willingness to stand up, to be a champion. His courage, his willingness to remember the past and yearn for a better future, made him worthy. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What are we worthy of? And what are we willing to champion?