Canter Bridge

YHWH broods darkly, both in the assessment he delivers to Moses regarding how quickly the nation will decline after its lawgiver’s death and in the song he commissions Moses to write. It is a virtual tour de force of ingratitude.

The main point is not complicated: YHWH did everything for these clueless people. They responded with breathtaking thanklessness and egotism. He will bring his sword down upon them for this.

Yet, as is so often the case, YHWH slips in an eternal commitment to save this pathetic rabble from its most self-destructive instinct. The long lines—for it is not a short song—that end the music are worth quoting in this regard:

Vengeance is mine, and recompense,
for the time when their foot shall slip;
because the day of their calamity is at hand,
their doom comes swiftly.

Indeed the LORD will vindicate his people,
have compassion on his servants,
when he sees that their power is gone,
neither bond nor free remaining.
Then he will say: Where are their gods,
the rock in which they took refuge,
who ate the fat of their sacrifices,
and drank the wine of their libations?
Let them rise up and help you,
let them be your protection!

See now that I, even I, am he;
there is no god beside me.
I kill and I make alive;
I wound and I heal;
and no one can deliver from my hand.
For I lift up my hand to heaven,
and swear: As I live forever,
when I whet my flashing sword,
and my hand takes hold on judgment;
I will take vengeance on my adversaries,
and will repay those who hate me.
I will make my arrows drunk with blood,
and my sword shall devour flesh—
with the blood of the slain and the captives,
from the long-haired enemy.

Praise, O heavens, his people,
worship him, all you gods!
For he will avenge the blood of his children,
and take vengeance on his adversaries;
he will repay those who hate him,
and cleanse the land for his people.

The Song suggests that YHWH will allow the people to exhaust themselves before they return to their Maker, Provider, and Savior. It is not a delicate picture, certainly not the projection into the future that will be regarded in retrospect as a glorious history.

Indeed, it is all rather sad. The text introduces here the notion of the wounding healer. Part of his claim to uniqueness is this very manner of dealing with humankind:

See now that I, even I, am he;
there is no god beside me.
I kill and I make alive;
I wound and I heal;
and no one can deliver from my hand.

Some of the prophets, not least Isaiah, will empty this notion of any ambiguity that might suggest that it is the nations that get wounded and Israel that is healed or made alive. Rather, they will turn the full force of the expression—which the Deuteronomy text probably intends to do as well—as an expression of how the fur flies, with redemptive ends, when YHWH and his errant Israel mix it up.

This all seems a bit too human, a trifle anthropomorphic for many tastes. A little bit like two persons finding their way forward in the kind of history you and I recognize, live in, get trashed by, then—somehow—find ourselves healed.