I was so pleased to come across
the story of Deborah and find out it
culminates as a musical.
Praise! Praise Deborah
Utter a song.
And she does. A lengthy one
of Don McLeanean proportions.
This is Israeli Pie or
Devorah’s Restaurant, if you prefer.
It goes on and every detail of
every victory is sung.
It’s epic.
It’s Biblical rock and roll.
It’s milk instead of water.
It’s stakes through temples.
It’s men who refuse to fight
without women by their side.
It’s curses and blessings.
It’s chariots and swords.
It’s Deborah, our Deborah
staked out under her palm tree
on a mountain, doling out wisdom
and instruction and judgement.
It’s all of us taking the time
to sing a song, like Miriam did before
to recount our history
to take stock of what
we’ve got going on.
How much of history do
we know better thanks to
the rock operas of our day?
Give me a test on Joseph
or even the American Revolution –
I’ll rap my way to an A+.
We’ve been uttering songs since
Deborah sang of Harosheth-golim
Since Moses sang his way
to the edge of the Holy Land
Since Miriam put on the first Woodstock
on the far side of a closing sea.
Arise arise Devorah!
We’ve got the best seats
in the house.