Rev. Jared Buss
Pittsburgh New Church; September 22, 2024
Readings: Judges 4:1-18; Secrets of Heaven §§10488, 1950.3
In this portion of the service we’re going to dig deeper into the story of Deborah and Barak. This is one of those stories that can feel hard to derive a message from: on the face of it, it’s a story about a battle that happened a long time ago. Maybe it’s interesting… but why did the Lord tell us this story? Really, it can be hard to recognize the Lord’s voice in any of the stories of the book of Judges, if you don’t know that there’s an internal sense, or a deeper meaning, to these stories. So we’re going to be looking closely at what the teachings of the New Church reveal about the internal meaning of today’s text.
But before we do that, we’re going to hear the second half of the story. This reading starts with Deborah’s response to Barak, after he tells her that he won’t go to battle unless she goes with him. It then goes on to describe the battle itself, and its outcome. We read: [Judges 4:8-18].
The story goes on to describe how Sisera falls asleep in Jael’s tent, and how she kills him in his sleep (vv. 19-21). Then Barak comes to the tent, chasing Sisera, but he finds that Sisera is already dead (v. 22). So Barak is denied the honor, or the glory, of personally defeating the commander of the enemy army. That glory goes to a woman who isn’t even under his command.
There are two pieces of this story that we’re going to focus on. The first is the piece that we already looked at during the children’s talk—the fact that Barak wouldn’t go to battle unless Deborah went with him (v. 8). The second piece is Deborah’s statement to Barak that she would go with him, but that there would be no glory for him in the journey (v. 9).
Both of these details are about the truths that the church has from the Lord, and the way we hold them, or the way we use them. The fact that all of us are here right now is a strong indication that we recognize that learning the truth the Lord teaches is important. We want to understand. It’s been said that knowledge is power—how much more powerful, then, is an understanding of spiritual truth?
But it’s also pretty obvious that the truth can be a challenging thing, and that churches, and religious people, don’t always know how to hold it, or how to use it. We know that we shouldn’t turn religious knowledge into something that is worshiped in its own right, and we know that we shouldn’t use the truths of the Word to attack other people or establish intellectual dominance over them. But of course, those things still happen. And sometimes it’s hard to figure out how to use the truth, how to speak the truth, without being arrogant or aggressive about it. How do you let the light of the truth shine out, without making it into something it shouldn’t be? In practice, when you’re dealing with people who might not agree with you, how do you hold the truth that you hear the Lord speaking to you, in His Word?
Unfortunately, today’s sermon isn’t going to provide you with finished answers to any of these questions. But the story of Deborah and Barak does speak to these questions. Deborah and Barak are a leadership team. She is a prophetess and a judge (v. 4); he is a commander of soldiers (vv. 6, 10). It’s important to note that Deborah is the judge—she’s in charge. She calls Barak from his home, and she tells him that the Lord is sending him to do battle with Sisera (v. 6). That relationship between the two of them is particularly important to understand when you look to the internal sense of the Word—because in the internal sense of the Word, Deborah and Barak together symbolize truth from good (AE §447.4). Deborah lands on the “good” side of that equation; Barak lands on the “truth” side. She is the goodness from which truth comes; he is the truth that answers the call of what is good. And goodness is meant to lead the truth. The teachings of the New Church say that truth is like a body, and goodness is like the soul within that body (SH §§6344, 8530). The soul commands the body—and a desire to do good is meant to command the truth we know.
This idea will be familiar to anyone who has spent any time with the teachings of the New Church. But there’s hearing this idea, and then there’s hearing it. The Doctrines make this point so clearly; and our next reading, which is from Secrets of Heaven, demonstrates this: [read §10488].
Truth without good has “no power at all” (ibid.). We see this in the story: Barak was the mighty warrior, but the story doesn’t simply say that he couldn’t win the battle without Deborah—he wouldn’t even fight the battle without Deborah (Judges 4:8). Truth without goodness doesn’t do anything at all: as the reading says, “it is no more than lifeless factual knowledge” (§10488).
Later on in the story, when they’re actually coming to grips with Sisera’s army, we see Deborah impelling Barak into battle. She says to him, “Up! For this is the day in which the Lord has delivered Sisera into your hand. Has not the Lord gone out before you?” (Judges 4:14). Goodness—or love, or affection—motivates the truth. It drives it forward. Without that motivation, the truth is inert, like a pile of letters on a page.
The reading from Secrets of Heaven says that truth from good means a life in keeping with the truth, “for good is connected with life” (§10488). In other words, the truth is just so much information until we use it—until we allow our lives, or our behavior, to be changed by it. The truth of the Lord’s Word has no power in our lives until it is showing up, in our lives. That’s pretty self-evident. It’s also pretty obvious that living the truth doesn’t mean putting on an empty show—being a hypocrite praying on the street corner (cf. Matt. 6:5). The truth becomes part of our lives when we use it purposefully. So Deborah doesn’t stand for a hollow effort to do what we know we’re supposed to do—when that’s our motivation, the truth we know doesn’t have much power. Deborah stands for an affection that’s connected to the Lord’s purpose for us—and the Lord’s purpose is to bless His children and give them joy. That love is life itself. So Deborah stands for an affection that is connected to the life within all this information in the Word.
Let’s talk about the practical applications of these ideas. The most obvious takeaway is that knowing the truth does not save us. It does not make us good people. We don’t begin to be good until we try to do what the truth says to do, and to love what the truth says to love. A more subtle application of these ideas is that when we’re trying to figure out what to do with the truth—what to make of the Lord’s teachings on repentance, or the second coming, or marriage, or anything—we should look for the affection behind them. Why did the Lord give us these teachings? How do they tie in to His purpose for us? And when we obey a specific teaching, what affection are we supposed to be expressing? If that truth is Barak, where and what is the Deborah? What is the affection that will impel that truth to do what it’s actually meant to do?
Here’s an example: a teaching in the Doctrine that people sometimes struggle with is the teaching that the heart we’ve been born with is corrupt. We’re born inclining to evils of every kind (TCR §§520, 521). What is the point of that teaching? It’s there to show us that we need to change—and that we need the Lord’s help if we’re going to do so. And I believe that the affection that’s meant to go with that teaching has to do with humility—with realizing that we need the Lord—but it also has to do with hope, because when we ask for His help we receive it. That doctrine with its corresponding affection and that doctrine without it are two very different things.
It must be said that goodness needs truth just as much as truth needs goodness. This is also something that the story illustrates: Deborah was in charge, but she worked through Barak. He was the one who commanded the troops in battle. The Canaanites that they were fighting against symbolize falsity from evil (AE §447.4)—and we’re told that they had nine hundred chariots of iron (Judges 4:3). As I said to the children, a chariot corps that strong would have been terrifying. And in the internal sense of the Word, those chariots symbolize an overwhelmingly sturdy system of false ideas. Chariots symbolize doctrine, and iron symbolizes unyielding truth—or, in this case, unyielding falsity. So to go up against Sisera and his nine hundred chariots of iron is to confront established systems of thought within ourselves. It’s to confront false ideas that have accumulated overwhelming momentum. It’s pretty obvious that a yearning to do good, all by itself, isn’t enough to challenge that falsity. We need more than just good intentions: we need light. We need to know what to do—and what not to do. The truth is that light. There’s a passage in the teachings of the New Church that says that good without truth is blunt, or rounded—but that with truth it becomes sharp (TCR §86). Truth enables love to be applied with clarity and with precision. The bottom line is that we need them both. The Lord gave us heads and hearts because we need them both.
Now, at last, I want to go back to Deborah’s statement that she would go with Barak, but that there would be no glory for him in the journey (Judges 4:9). Deborah symbolizes goodness, and Barak symbolizes truth. When goodness and truth are joined together the way they’re meant to be, the truth does not have glory. The truth doesn’t get the spotlight. So if we find that we’re inclined to glory in the truth we know, that’s an indication that we’ve separated truth from goodness.
This idea should become a little clearer after we’ve turned to our final reading for today, which is also from the book Secrets of Heaven. This reading is part of a whole series of passages that describe the quality of truth that is separated from goodness. We read: [§1950.3].
Truth that is separated from good is ornery. It’s contentious—it looks for conflict. It’s insufferable and stubborn—it’s said to be like a wild donkey that’s unable to live with others. And truth separated from goodness glories in victory. It loves being right—it loves proving how right it is. It wants to outshine the other lights around it. Now, as I said, this mentality is insufferable. We know we’re not supposed to be this way… so if that impulse to give glory to the truth we know shows up in us, it will do so sneakily. What forms might it take? It could show up as a tendency to turn discussions about values and beliefs into arguments about values and beliefs. It could show up as an anxious or even desperate need to convince ourselves that we do know the truth. It could take the form of shower thoughts in which we rehearse speeches that demonstrate how right we are. In general, if we feel that our emotional or intellectual security depends on being right, we’re giving glory to the truth. But the truth is only meant to be a servant.
The glory belongs to the Lord. The Lord teaches us His truth, and He means for us to use it. But the truth can never do what it is meant to do unless an affection from the Lord goes with it. That affection directs the truth: it impels the truth to serve its genuine purpose, even as Deborah said to Barak: “Up! For this is the day in which the Lord has delivered Sisera into your hand. Has not the Lord gone out before you?” (Judge 4:14).
Amen.