Pegs and Prophets: When Women Take the Lead in Judges

Judges 3–5 includes one of the more vivid stories I’ve read so far: the account of Jael and Sisera. It’s brief, intense, and layered. When I read it alongside the story of Deborah, it became even more interesting. Both women play key roles in the defeat of a powerful enemy, but they do so in very different ways.

Deborah: The Commander in a Prophet's Robe

Deborah is introduced as a prophet and judge. She seems to already be a respected figure, someone people turn to for decisions and direction. When the Israelite commander Barak is told to go to war, he won’t go without her. Deborah agrees to join him but says the honor of victory will ultimately go to a woman. That woman turns out to be Jael.

Jael: The Tent-Dwelling Assassin

Jael isn’t part of the military effort. She’s not an Israelite. She’s the wife of Heber the Kenite, part of a nomadic tribe that wasn’t even involved in the conflict. Yet when Sisera, the commander of the opposing army, flees the battlefield, Jael invites him into her tent. She gives him milk and covers him with a blanket. Then, while he sleeps, she drives a tent peg through his skull.

It’s a brutal scene, and one that raises a lot of questions. Was Jael acting on her own? Did she see this as an opportunity? A duty? An act of survival? The text doesn’t explain her motives. In the poetic retelling in Judges 5, Jael is celebrated for her actions. But the story leaves space for the reader to consider what kind of strength this is.

Quiet Power and Battlefield Surprises

What stands out is how different Deborah and Jael are. Deborah leads from a public position of authority. She speaks with confidence, seems calm in a crisis, and helps coordinate a national effort. Jael operates alone and with tools not designed for combat. Her act doesn’t come with a rallying cry or a strategic plan. It happens in a quiet moment, away from the battlefield.

Strength in Unexpected Packages

I find myself wondering what this says about power and action. Deborah and Jael both shape the outcome of a national crisis, but their roles are far from typical. Especially in the context of ancient texts, their presence here is unusual. And yet, there they are: a military leader who won’t go to battle without a woman, a prophecy that gives credit to someone outside the army, a victory that happens not with a sword but a tent peg.

It’s not easy to pin down a single message. Maybe that’s part of what makes the story compelling. The usual categories of heroism don’t quite apply. And while the violence is hard to ignore, so is the idea that individuals on the margins can sometimes shape history in unexpected ways.