For the feminists in the modern world, it may be reassuring to hear the story of Deborah. She was not a pretty woman, and as a divine compensation, was very smart. Deborah's story begins not long after Joshua's death, only a few generations. Israel was going through one of its misbehaving periods, and God was punishing them by subjecting them to numerous raids by the Canaanites, under the command of one Sisera, a bloodthirsty S.O.B. if there ever was one.
Now Deborah was a prophet, one of those special minds in tune with the will of God, or Yahweh as he was also called, again because of his competition with Zeus/Jupiter. So it happened that she knew that the hope and future of Israel lay with a man named Barak, and she called him to her.
"Barak," she said, "you must lead the people of Israel against the forces of Sisera."
"Me? But I am weak, and not skilled in the way of war."
"That is true, but I will go with you. You are only a man, and the defeat of Sisera will require the gifted touch of a woman. You shall depend on me to lead you to victory, and we shall both depend on God."
So the Israelites under the command of Barak under the leadership of Deborah under the guidance of God went forth and met their enemy on the field of war, where, to put it bluntly, they kicked some major ass. Sisera fled the battle, and went to the house of his mistress, who took him to bed, made love to him, and then, in the sleepy aftermath, took a large and ugly dagger and stuck it right into his groin. This was a great battle cry for the feminists of all time, and the name of Jael the wife of Heber is more greatly praised than that of Lorena Bobbit, her modern-day counterpart.
It just goes to show that if you men think women are just there to be fruitful and multiply, you'd better wear dagger-proof boxer shorts.
This then ushered in a period of piousness, and the Israelites prospered until such a time as they gave up on the whole God thing and went back to their pagan, if more fun, ways. God then sent the Midianites to bring them back into the fold. Raided and attacked, the Israelites knew despair.
One man, a youth named Gideon, barely out of adolescence, cried out in anger to God. Well, actually, he cried out in anger to Baal, who was the god that had caught Israel's fancy in those days. God really hated Baal, a petty, sniveling, good-for-nothing who simply liked to interfere in things he knew nothing about, such as everything.
"Baal!" Gideon cried. "Why are we suffering so?"
"Because you have forgotten me," God replied.
"Baal? Is that you?" Gideon was greatly surprised.
"No! I am Yahweh the Great, the One True God of Israel and of All Men."
"Why then do we suffer?"
God thought. He could go with the truth, which would have been that he'd thought he could win with a full house, but he was almost sure that Gideon wouldn't understand, although with Baal running the show, who knew what bad habits his chosen people had picked up? "You will suffer no longer. You shall lead your people to glory, and you will then return them to the religion of their forefathers."
"But how am I to believe you? Please, give me a sign."
God sighed. Stubborn Israelites. Had they intermarried with a goat while wandering through Sinai? Always wanting signs and plagues and miracles. One of these days he'd just give up and let the Arabs take over. Then they'd be sorry they'd...
"God?" Gideon asked. "Are you still there?"
"What? Oh. Oh yeah. A sign hey?" Thunder rolled in the distance. "What sort of sign would you like? Stop? Yield? Camel crossing?" Gideon stood stone-faced. God pouted - no one ever laughed at that joke, not even Loki, and he laughed at everything. "Okay fine. You want a sign? Then you come up with it. You tell me what you want me to do, and I'll see to it."
Gideon thought. What would prove that this was God? He scratched his chin as he pondered.
"C'mon boy. I've got whole universes to rule. Do you think I can spend all day waiting for you to come up with something? Listen, go milk your father's cow, and I will make the milk wine."
Wine sounded very good right about then. The day was rather hot. Gideon nodded, and did as he was told. Sure enough, the milk was the sweetest red wine he'd ever tasted. Still though, Gideon thought, any common town-square magician could turn milk to wine. Maybe he needed something a bit more miraculous. Like the lordship of Europe and Asia, or leading the Middle East to victory against the capitalist Satan of the West, or the most beautiful woman in the world. Yeah, that last sounded good.
He brought the idea before God, and was slightly dismayed at God's reaction.
"Oh no! Anything but that! The last time one of us pulled that little scam, half the population of the northern Mediterranean suddenly came down with a serious case of death on the shores of Turkey. You want wealth, power, semi-beautiful women, it's all yours. But the most beautiful? NO."
Gideon swallowed hard. "Well then fine. Just tell me how I'm supposed to win this war."
"First," God began, "we need to get you some dynamite soldiers..."
Twenty-two thousand people enlisted. God was feeling gutsy though, and he really didn't like Baal, so he figured it would really prove that he was One and Only and Baal was goat-spit if he kicked Midian around with a much smaller force. He went to Gideon (they were good friends by this time and often wandered around Canaan looking at sheep together) and told him to whisper in the ear of each soldier that he should go AWOL if he was scared. Gideon didn't understand, but he did as he was told. Ten thousand remained, which was surprising because they were going against the all-powerful Midianite war machine, scud missiles not withstanding.
Still too big, thought God. "Tell your men to drink from yon stream, Gideon, and I will tell to thee which shall accompany thee on thy quest against the tyrannous force of Midian."
"Okay God, but please, I've asked you before. Don't talk like you're some lisping Latin loser."
As Gideon led his men and their horses to water and made them drink, God wondered what it was about these Israelites that made them so partial to alliteration.
Gideon's men knew that they were going to war immediately after finishing their drink, so God based his choice of desirable soldiers on their common sense. Those who went to the bathroom before departing were allowed to go; those who held it for a less convenient time were told to go home, and all came down with prostate cancer later in life. If there was one thing God couldn't stand, it was a bunch of soldiers who did nothing but ask, "are we there yet?"
Three hundred men went out with Gideon to Midian. The details of the battle are best left unmentioned. Suffice it to say that a particularly nasty strategy created by God, involving trumpets, lamps, and shards of broken pitchers, resulted in the maiming, castrating, and eventually burning alive of every Midianite soldier. Of course, God had to do most of the work himself, because Gideon and his three hundred were all slaughtered almost immediately by the Midianite force that "lay along the valley like grasshoppers for multitude". This goes to show that if 22000 men volunteer for an army, it's best not to be stingy and just take them all.