Joshua 16-17

I've written about the awesomeness of fantasy author Brandon Sanderson before; although his prose is merely functional, his plots, character development, and magic systems are wonders to behold. In The Way of Kings, a massive tome of 1000 pages, the story begins with the death of the king of Alethkar. Taking responsibility for the assassination are a group of people called the Parshendi, a coalition of whom had just entered the kingdom to ostensibly make a peace treaty. The Parshendi bear striking similarities to parshmen, beings whom the people of Alethkar basically use as slaves. The parshmen are physically strong yet subservient, seeming to have no desires of their own. But the assassination of the king by the Parshendi raises a troubling question: could the parshmen potentially rise up and subjugate the people of Alethkar?

Slaves (or people under slave-like conditions) rising up against their masters is a common theme of storytelling; A Bug's Life and Spartacus are two other examples that come immediately to mind. These two chapters of Joshua note two instances of the Israelites failing to "dislodge" Canaanites, instead subjecting them to forced labor (16:10, 17:13). Now, we know that Israel didn't fall because of slave revolt; they fell to the outside forces of the Assyrians and the Babylonians. And yet, as the subsequent books of the Bible will reveal, Israel all too often turned away from God. Some of that, no doubt, was because of their own blockheadedness, but I can't help wondering if their Canaanite slaves inveigled themselves and their pagan beliefs into the Israelites' hearts. Sure, the Assyrians and Babylonians defeated Israel. But was their task made easier from a rotting of Israel from within?

This reminds me of the old chestnut, "A man is known by the company keeps." (To which Evan Esar added his own waggish addendum: "A man is known by the company he keeps, but a woman is known by the company she keeps waiting.") We soon find ourselves adapting at least some of the attitudes of those whom we surround ourselves with. While I don't think it's good for Christians to limit their company to just other Christians, a drug addict wishing to recover shouldn't just hang around other junkies.

After the author describes the territory allotted to Manasseh, he relates a little anecdote showing that the Manassites could be just a little petulant--and lazy. After they complain about receiving such a small allotment relative to their size, Joshua says that they can clear out the forests of the "Perizzites and Rephaites" (17:11). Clearly, the Manassites wanted Joshua to give them land allotted to another tribe, for they snivel about iron chariots and such. To his credit, Joshua refuses to become a doormat, repeating his offer and pretty much saying, "You say you have a lot of people? Well, then you should have no problem clearing out the forests and driving out the Canaanites in their big, scary chariots. Grow some backbone already!" Maybe he didn't say that last part, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking it.

Joshua 14-15

The Olympics have been over for a while now (don't you just love the timeliness of these posts?), but one quality the vast majority of the athletes have in common is their youth. The human body just naturally peaks at a certain age, after which it's all downhill, as they say--the angle may be shallow or precipitous, but it goes downward all the same. That's not to spurn the truly amazing feats of certain older athletes, but they probably would be even better if their bodies were younger.

Of course, while superior physicality is one quality that those in their salad days enjoy, it's not the be-all and end-all. With age comes experience and, we hope, wisdom. (Or at least more wisdom compared to one's youth.) Caleb is the only other Israelite besides Joshua who was an adult during the exodus from Egypt; he has seen the miracles that God has wrought and has endured all 40 years of the wilderness wanderings. You could say that he has a bit of experience and, as his conviction to trust in God shows, wisdom. And yet at 85 years old, he's just as spry as anyone, "vigorous to go out to battle" (14:11). Sure, some of the younger Israelites might outmatch him physically, but passion and motivation go a long way. Keep in mind, too, that Caleb was 40 years old when he originally surveyed the Promised Land, which would have made him 80 when the Israelites started their five-year campaign to conquer Canaan. I doubt many armies today would accept an 80-year-old as an active soldier.

Amidst all the administrative land allotments, we do get a little anecdote in chapter 15: Caleb promises the hand of his daughter, Aksah, (who I suppose could have been anywhere between something-teen and 60 years old) "to the man who attacks and captures Kiriath Sepher" (15:16). Turns out his nephew Othniel accomplishes the deed. But that's not all. Aksah then asks her Uncle Caleb for the "upper and lower springs" of Negev (15:19), which Caleb readily grants. Maybe I'm reading too much into the situation, but Aksah sure seems like an enterprising individual. Not only will she have access to water, that most precious resource, but she could also potentially charge passerby to use those springs.

Chapter 15 ends with a note that the Israelites were not able to "dislodge the Jebusites" (15:63). (I just imagine the Jebusites holed up in a literal cozy hunting lodge, complete with bearskin rugs and a roaring fireplace.) The author gives no reason, which makes any possible hypothesis based on this verse mere supposition. Were there just too many Jebusites? Were they awesome warriors? Did the Israelites become too friendly with them? In any case, the Jebusites lived in a little city named Jerusalem, which I'm sure will be important later on….

Joshua 12-13

From the viewpoint of my comfy chair as I read the Bible, it seems that Joshua and the Israelites subjugated much of Canaan in quite a short time. After all, it's only been a few chapters since their first battle against Jericho in chapter 6. The debacle at Ai provided a bit of a setback, but it was only the precursor to resounding victory after resounding victory. Therefore, it comes as a bit of a surprise when we see that Joshua is now a "very old" man (13:1). In the days before cars and airplanes, fighting a campaign over an area the size of Canaan took a considerable amount of time.

And although Joshua was faithful to God and enjoyed the fruits of triumph, his life was far from cushy. After 40 years of wandering in the desert, he spent the rest of his life fighting in battles. So maybe he didn't get to enjoy sitting back in a lawn chair drinking a margarita with a paper umbrella perched on top. But through his faithfulness to and trust in God, he was able to take part in God's overarching plan for His people.

Sometimes (and pardon me if I get too existential here) I wonder whether anything I do makes a difference and to what extent I should care if it does or not. I'd be lying if I said that I used all my energy, resources, and talent selflessly--when I focus on enjoying myself, I'm not really benefitting anyone else, except the makers of whatever movie I'm watching, the author of the book I'm reading, or the composer of the music I'm listening to. I do understand that it's OK to enjoy leisure pursuits, especially if it recharges my batteries, but that shouldn't be my goal. I get the inkling that God's not calling me to conquer a heathen country after wandering for 40 years in the desert, but I should still strive to further God's plan--and realize just how exciting such an opportunity is.

Joshua certainly did his part, conquering 31 kings (12:9-24). I especially like how the author puts "one" after each king, as if we can't already tell that one person rarely counts as more than one person. But after all that, God tells Joshua that there are still wide swaths of land to conquer. God even says that He will drive out some of the inhabitants Himself (13:6)--if you saw a giant column of flame looming down on you, I'm sure you'd scurry away in a hurry. Joshua's story may be nearing its end, but the story of Israel, the nation of God's chosen people, is just beginning.

On a final note, the idea of having done so much but then finding out you still have a long ways to go reminds me of a scene from The Muppets. Basically, the Muppets need to raise $10 million to buy back the Muppet Theater from Chris Cooper, so they decide to put on a telethon. They're almost there, but Cooper tries to stop them, after which this scene happens. (Don't watch if you don't want it spoiled.)

Joshua 11

If the battle at Ai was like the Battle of the Five Armies from The Hobbit, the battle that opens Joshua 11 is like the Battle of the Pelennor Fields from The Return of the King. OK, that's actually not that great of an analogy, because the Battle of Pelennor Fields basically involved the bad guys laying siege to the good guys' city, while in this chapter, the Israelites army takes "a huge army, as numerous as the sand on the seashore" (verse 4) by surprise, completely decimating it. And while most of the battles in The Lord of the Rings were struggles (as all good fictional battles should be), the Israelites here are basically continuing their inexorable steamrolling of the Canaanite city-states.

While the author doesn't really describe the nitty-gritty of the battles--probably because they were all so one-sided--he or she does include an interesting detail: Joshua hamstrings the horses of the opposing armies. Basically, if you cut the tendon near a horse's ankle in just the right place, you can make that horse lame in that leg. In fact, one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, Silver Blaze, features a rogue whose nefarious plot hinges on that very technique. Apparently, if one uses just the right kind of knife and makes just the right kind of cut, one can disable the horse with nary a perceptible trace. But of course, it's a Sherlock Holmes story, so the venerable detective sniffs out the villainy. (However, even though Sherlock Holmes nearly always figures out the mystery, there are a handful of stories where he finds out too late or fails to actually catch the criminal once identifying him--or her.)

Another intriguing quirk about these battles is that while the Israelites burn most of the cities, they do "not burn any of the cities built on the mounds--except Hazor" (verse 13). The author explains in an aside in verse 10 that Hazor is essentially the chief city in the area, but such is the relentless dominance of the Israelite army that this otherwise important factoid becomes little more than a footnote. But why did the Israelites not burn any of the other cities built on mounds? Did they think it was too dangerous to climb the mounds with torches in their hands?

All these battles take up a paltry 23 verses, but the author asserts that "Joshua waged war against all these kings for a very long time" (verse 18)--about five years, as we'll learn in a few chapters. Yes, the Israelites enjoyed victory after victory, but war is war, a tautology sometimes pushed to the wayside in impersonal accounts of battle. After it's all over, the author even uses personification to accentuate the toll of battle: "Then the land had rest from war" (verse 23).

Finally, I want to make return to the question I posited in the last post about whether God was OK with the Gibeonites using deceit to become subservient to the Israelites. Verse 20 says that God "hardened the hearts" of the Canaanites who rose up against the Israelites, which of course led to this succession of battles. Does this mean that He did not harden the hearts of the Gibeonites, who respected and feared God enough to surrender to His chosen people?

Joshua 10

J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit is a much more intimate book than The Lord of the Rings (though you wouldn't know it from Peter Jackson's cinematic adaptation), but even it ends with an epic conflict grandiosely titled "The Battle of the Five Armies" (though the book skips over describing the actual battle, in stark contrast to the films, which give the battle its own entire movie). Well, as impressive as this battle is, Joshua 10 does Tolkien one better with The Battle of the Six Armies.

The kings of five realms are melting in fear (though the author decides not to use that phrase here, for one) at the prospect of facing an alliance of both Israel and Ai--perhaps as formidable a team as the U.S. and China, or maybe Stephen Curry, Kevin Durant, Klay Thompson, Draymond Green, and Andre Igoudala. So the five kings decide to join forces and attack Ai. Naturally, Ai goes running to their newfound BFFs, the Israelites, for help. Although Joshua and the Israelites were none too happy about being hornswoggled into making a treaty with the Gibeonites, they soon display their true loyalty--and mettle.

Israel marches overnight to Ai, where the battle is already in progress, taking "them by surprise" and "thr[owing] them into confusion" (verses 9, 10). Well, really, what were the five kings expecting when they lay siege to Ai? Did they think the Israelites would just sit at home, twiddling their thumbs? It's almost as if they were asking to have their butts whooped. As the five armies flee, God adds insult to injury by dropping hailstones on their heads. In fact, the hailstones kill more people than the Israelites (verse 11). I imagine even an object the size of a tangerine can do grievous or even lethal damage if dropped from around 20,000 feet.

The adrenaline flowing through him, Joshua gets a little excited and asks God to make the sun stand still--and God answers his request. Now, if God used natural forces to make the sun stand still, that means that he stopped the Earth from rotating, which I imagine would have caused planet-wide whiplash. It makes more sense if God acted outside natural laws to make the sun stand still--He is God, after all. In any case, even the author gets galvanized when writing about this most unnatural phenomenon, writing, "Surely the LORD was fighting for Israel!" (verse 14).

Victory assured, the rest of this chapter is just housekeeping--similar to how the U.S. women's gymnastics team this year pretty much clinched the gold medal several events before the competition was over. The Israelites find the cave where the five kings are cowering wretchedly. If the Israelites were blunt, I imagine they would have said something like, "Oh, don't worry, we'll let you go back to your beloved cave! We're just going to drag you out briefly so we can step on your necks (verse 24), kill you, and impale you, but we'll be considerate and return your corpses to this cave!" The Israelites then attack at least six cities where the result is virtually the same--they completely destroy it and leave no survivors. The battles were probably still brutal and all, but the victories have almost become routine at this point. Must be nice.

Joshua 9

Japanese people tend to prevaricate, communicating their desires through indirect subtleties. For example (and I'm simplifying here), Japanese culture frowns upon saying "No" outright. (Why have the word "No" then? I'm not versed enough in the language and culture to provide an authoritative answer, but I do know that upon receiving compliments, people often say "No" or something like it.) Although I'm very Americanized, some of that ethnic heritage seems to have rubbed off on me. I dislike in-person confrontations and can be indirect about what I want sometimes. However, I'm well aware of this, which is why I don't complain or hold a grudge when I don't get what I want. I could go on and bore you by attempting to psychoanalyze myself further, but the point is that, mostly because of my job, I've learned to be a bit more direct and "spit it out," accepting that sometimes the answer will be "No."

The Gibeonites take indirectness so far that it becomes deceit. Melting in fear (to use phrase the author of Joshua seems inveterately fond of), they decide to turn themselves over to the Israelites. However, instead of telling the truth, they "[resort] to a ruse" (verse 4), even going so far as to bring old sacks, well-worn clothes, and moldy bread to give the impression that they are from a distant nation. After hearing what these tatterdemalions have to say, the Israelites "[sample] their provisions" (verse 14). Does that mean that they tasted the moldy bread to see if it was, in fact, a teeming nesting ground for the fuzzy fungus? Kind of gross.

The Israelites, for whatever reason, don't consult with God, taking the deceitful Gibeonites at their word. Joshua eventually finds out that the Gibeonites were in fact from, well, Gibeon, (though the author doesn't say who ratted them out). Joshua censures the Gibeonites (though I imagine he was also a bit miffed at himself for not discussing the matter with God beforehand), telling them that they will forever be "woodcutters and water carriers"--essentially servants--for the Israelites. I'm sure Joshua thought he was being good and draconian with the Gibeonites, but they seem happy just to not die, saying, "Do to us whatever seems good and right to you" (verse 25).

I could say that the Gibeonites were acting like Japanese with their roundabout tactic, but that could be construed as racist. Truth be told, it's not always best to be blunt; when talking to an inquisitive child, you don't necessarily want to explain every little lurid detail of R- or NC-17-rated topics. But should the Gibeonites have told the Israelites that they just didn't want to be killed? They were correct--and wise (interesting how often those two traits coincide)--to acknowledge and submit to God's sovereignty, but did they really have to use deceit to do so?  It did end up saving their skins; after all, the Israelites would have followed God's directive to slaughter them if they had known the Gibeonites were from Canaan. Did God orchestrate this whole situation? Did he approve of what happened here? I guess the only definitive lessons to take away from this account are "Always remember to consult with God first," and "Be glad you're not a Gibeonite."

Joshua 8

I admit that I don't exhibit certain traits of a stereotypical tough male. I'm not much into sports (watching or, with the exception of jogging, participating). I dreaded P.E. in school even though it was always an easy A; I was often the most incompetent doofus on the court or field. Luckily, the other kids didn't tease me.  I'm not super into cars, I find typical male posturing and bravado stupid (not that I could pull it off myself), and I find most hard metal music to be, in the oft-repeated words of the Bard, "Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

However, I am a fan of action movies--the good ones, of course, but I get a kick out of some of the trashier ones as well. When I was young, my favorite Star Wars films were the original and Return of the Jedi because they had the best space battles. Raiders of the Lost Ark blew my mind wide open, and then the epic, almost overwhelming battles of The Lord of the Rings spread my gray matter all over the walls.

The Bible doesn't focus on thrilling the reader with spectacular action like authors Michael Crichton, Matthew Reilly, and Clive Cussler do, but the account of Ai is probably as adrenaline-fueled as the Scriptures get. The author concisely explains the Israelite army's specific tactics--they basically retreat, luring the people of Ai to chase after them, but leave a portion of the army near the city in preparation for an ambuscade. In an unbelievably stupid move, Ai does not leave anyone to behind to defend the city (verse 17). Then, 30,000 Israelite men lying in wait ambush the abandoned city, the retreating Israelites turn around to attack, and the hapless people of Ai find themselves trapped between a rock and another rock. (Many movies and books have since portrayed armies deploying a similar tactic including, if I remember correctly, that bastion of historical accuracy, The Patriot.)

To enliven the account of the battle, the author uses powerful verbs (ambush, fled, pursued, rose, escape, cut down) and striking, iconic imagery--the "smoke of the city rising up to the sky" (verse 20), the gruesome tableaux of the king of Ai impaled on a stick (verse 29), and, most cinematic of all, Joshua steadfastly holding up his javelin against the backdrop of the tumultuous conflict and the city aflame (verses 18, 26).

But the real driving force behind this decisive victory is God. After the Israelites consecrated themselves in the previous chapter, God once again bolsters Joshua, saying, "Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged" (verse 1). Now that the Israelites are once again right with God, He allows them to defeat the army that had sent them running with their tails between their legs only a chapter before. To reinforce the Israelites' dependence on God, Joshua acknowledges Him by building an altar and offering a sacrifice upon it. Not only that, but he also inscribes Book of the Law of Moses on stones and reads the entire thing to the Israelites, which must have taken several hours to read and who knows how long to carve (verses 34-35). Sure, it's not as flashy an image as a legion of men on horseback riding down a ridiculously precipitous hill towards an orc horde as the sun rises behind them. But the foundation in God's word allows for all the Israelites' dazzling victories.

Joshua 7

Remember in Joshua 1 when I wrote that most stories suck unless the characters are in situations that suck? (That sentence, by the way, is the product of one who fancies himself a writer. And to think that I teach the intricacies of the language to others.) While the story of Jericho contained plenty of thrills (and possibly spills, if one of the citizens of Jericho had happened to leave his mug of Odwalla juice on the city wall just before it fell), there wasn't really any strife. Sure, the Israelites provided some action when they put everyone in the city to the sword (save Rahab and Company), but did Jericho really put up much of a fight at that point? Could they?

But now, it's like the Israelites are at the end of a TV episode--Game of Thrones, Daredevil, some K-drama or jdorama, take your pick--in which our heroes have won some magnificent victory. But just when we think it's over, a bombshell revelation drops, or a character we thought was dead reappears, and suddenly matters are looking very dire for the main characters. Some fellow named Achan decides to remind everyone, in the off chance that they forgot, just how pumice-brained humans can be. He does expressly what the Israelites have been told not to do: He takes some "devoted things" plundered from Jericho--a bunch of silver, an ingot of gold, and a fetching robe (verse 21).

But Achan's sin has ramifications far beyond his wretched self. When Joshua sends 3,000 scouts to Ai, the people of Ai (Aians? Aianese? Aiish?) trounce them, killing 36 of their number (verse 5). When Joshua supplicates himself before God, asking why everything has suddenly gone more wrong than a twenty-toed psychic, God responds in an amusingly crotchety manner: "Stand up! What are you doing on your face?" (verse 10). Well, if I knew that someone's willful idiocy had caused the death of 36 of my friends, I'd be a little cantankerous as well.

With God's guidance, Joshua and the Israelites eventually scare up Achan, stone him, and burn the corpse. Then, they dump a pile of rocks over his body for good measure. What disturbs me a bit about Achan's punishment isn't what happened to Achan himself--he probably deserved what was coming for him. Rather, it's that his sons and daughters were stoned as well (verses 24, 25). Imagine having your father fail you in such a way that you find yourself being stoned to death. Maybe Achan's family members were confederates in his dastardly deed, but if not, surely God had some other reason for condemning Achan's offspring. If nothing else, this story serves as a sobering reminder of the gaping gulf between sin and God's holiness, a gulf that, as we'll learn in a thousand or so pages, only Jesus can span.

Joshua 6

If one were to take the account of the siege of Jericho at face value, it would seem that that the Israelites made the city walls collapse by sheer dint of lungpower. Did the Israelites have among their number a mutant, a proto-X-Man who had the powers of Banshee? (For the Marvel-challenged, Banshee could emit sonic screams that could disintegrate certain materials; he appeared in Matthew Vaughn's film X-Men: First Class.) Or if Star Wars is more your beat, the Ithorians had similar abilities (though they did not manifest such powers in the films.)

But of course God orchestrated Jericho's defeat; whether or not He used a natural phenomenon (like an earthquake) or an early X-Men is intriguing to ponder but ultimately missing the point. Needless to say, it took lots of courage and trust for the Israelites to just march around Jericho for a week. You'll notice that we don't hear just what the inhabitants of Jericho were doing. According to VeggieTales, the people of Jericho were peas with French accents who shot globs of purple slushies at the marching Israelites.

The people of Jericho could very easily have started attacking the Israelites from their "high ground" (as Obi-Wan Kenobi might put it). I mean, just try marching around an army base or other fortification today and you'll probably end up making a very good specimen of Swiss cheese, or possibly ground beef. So what did those people of Jericho do? Sit around with their thumbs in one or another bodily orifice? I can posit two explanations--neither of them particularly flattering--for why the citizens of Jericho didn't so anything while the Israelites marches. 1) They were so scared of the Israelites that they huddled inside their domiciles, quivering in abject fear. Or 2) they found the idea of an army marching around a city without attacking so risible that they just grabbed some popcorn, opened up the lawn chairs, and sat on top of the wall to watch the blockheads below walk in circles.

After the walls do come tumbling down, Joshua recites a little ditty cursing "the one who undertakes to rebuild this city, Jericho" (verse 26). If I can be sententious for a moment, the fall of Jericho represents God's emphatic claim of the Promised Land for His chosen people. And indeed, verse 27 avers that "the LORD was with Joshua, and his fame spread throughout the land." God's instructions were strange, but because Joshua followed them to the letter, he enjoyed the boons of God's presence and support. And while fame in itself is no laudable achievement (as a certain gaggle of sisters with alliterative names proves), Joshua received such renown based on remarkable actions precipitated by his faith in God.

Joshua 5

Circumcision, a rather delicate procedure, requires an equally delicate approach in any written piece not attempting to shock or offend. Suffice to say that most people who undergo this procedure nowadays do so as infants and thus have no memory (or at least I hope not) of the ordeal. However, the Israelite men males of every age had no choice in the matter--once they reached Gilgal, out came the flint knives. Verse 8 will make any male cringe: "And after the whole nation had been circumcised, they remained where they were in the camp until they were healed." Such was the pain that they couldn't even travel (a pain that Jacob's sons ruthlessly took advantage of back in Genesis 34.)

In verse 12, we learn that the manna, which has sustained the Israelites for more than 40 years, finally stops falling. The Israelites have finally reached the home promised to them and can partake in the luscious produce of the land. Just imagine the kids who had grown up the wilderness and known nothing but manna, quail, and maybe the occasional sacrificial meat finally having a whole smorgasbord of fruits, vegetables, and grains opened up to them. The closest personal experience I can compare this to is when I was first introduced to the delectable delights of shrimp, baby back ribs, and tiramisu as a teenager. I had no idea what I'd been missing.

As the Israelites prepare to attack Jericho, Joshua, in the act of reconnoitering the city, encounters the commander of the army of the Lord. Even though the commander's sword is drawn (verse 13), Joshua is bold enough to go up to the man and ask him whose side he is on. Now, I imagine Joshua was prudent enough not to march right up the the man's face; he probably kept himself out of range of the sword. Still, Joshua's faith in God is such that he knows that God will protect him.

The commander of the Lord says he is neither for Joshua nor his enemies (verse 14). Although God chose the Israelites as His people and appoints certain people to do various aspects of His work, God is not irrevocably on any humans' side. Instead, we humans choose whether or not we want to follow God and develop our relationship with Him. When Joshua deferentially decides to follow, the commander of the Lord tells Joshua to remove his sandals (verse 15)--an action that echoes the directive given to Moses at the burning bush and that also heralds equally awesome acts to come.

Joshua 4

Kids can be dumb. Yeah, yeah, I know that they're brains are still forming and all that. Still, that's no excuse. I mean, how pathetic is it that kids have to rely on other people--namely, their parents--just to survive? Infants are especially woeful; they can't even move about by themselves, and they think the whole world revolves around them. (Some never grow out of this mindset.)

I'm kidding, of course. Having worked with kids, I know that they, like people in general, can be charming, annoying, witty, gross, insightful, malicious, affectionate--and dumb. For an example of juvenile stupidity, one need look no further than yours truly. When I was a kid, I remember going to a relative's house and wandering, uninvited, upstairs into the master bedroom. Big no-no. Luckily for me, the relatives didn't yell at me. (Either that, or they never found out.) Another time, I ran around like a doofus at the local shopping mall, looking at the ground all the merry while, until I ran straight into the mall's security guard. He yelled at me, though I was too surprised to be frightened. And when I first read verse 9 of Joshua 4, which says that the twelve stones from the Jordan riverbed are still there "to this day," I thought that they were still there. The thing is, I knew that Joshua had been written a long time ago. My unfortunate, discombobulated brain couldn't wrap itself around the not-so-subtle point that "to this day" applied to the time when Joshua was written. How could someone who did so well in elementary school be so dense?

Although the twelve stones have probably since disintegrated into their constituent elements, we know about them because the Israelites followed Joshua's advice: they told their children about the stones and momentous event they represented (verses 6-7, 21-24). I suppose it would be a lot more convenient if kids popped out of the womb with the ability to function independently. But parents have the responsibility to teach them, guide them, and instill in them the moral compass that will serve as the bedrock of their decision-making process. And a big part of that is teaching the importance of history, providing knowledge that will inform the next generation to vote for--or even create--policies that will shape their lives. Of course, that's all easy for me to say because I'm not a parent. Yet.

I apologize if this post has become too didactic, but it started out pretty frivolous, so I guess it balances out in the end.

Joshua 3

I was never a really good swimmer, but I did progress to the point where I could do the elementary backstroke without drowning or getting water up my nose. But you can't see where you're going with the backstroke, so of course I would invariably veer off course, sometimes as much as 90 degrees to my original path, causing me to whack my head unceremoniously on the pool's lane divider. (Better that than the pool wall, I suppose.)

The ancient Israelites weren't doing the backstroke out in the middle of the desert (or maybe they were, just for kicks). But God knew that, just like an untalented swimmer, they would go astray if they didn't know where they were going. And how did they know where they were going? Why, by following Indiana Jones's favorite artifact, of course.

As the Ark of the Covenant was a representation of God's holiness, it makes sense that it would serve as the head of the ambling Israelite crowd. However, the Israelites couldn't follow right behind the ark; they had to stay at least "two thousand cubits" behind it (verse 4). That's about 3,000 feet--ten football fields, or more than half a mile. I don't know about you, but objects start to look a bit indistinct to me half a mile out. I hope the Israelites were traveling over flat terrain. Otherwise, who knows how many times they would have lost sight of the ark, causing them to metaphorically ram their heads against the pool wall?

I know I'm being facetious and that God obviously took this into account. But the 3,000-foot distance just proves how holy God is--and the Ark of the Covenant contained just the merest modicum of His holiness. (Though obviously enough holiness to melt faces and make people's heads explode--as Indiana Jones's foes soon found out, to their consternation.) God then manifested that power with a spectacular display at the Jordan River. Once the priests carrying the ark set foot in the river, "the water from upstream stopped flowing. It piled up in a heap a great distance away" (verse 16). I've heard gargantuan quantities of water described in many ways--deluge, torrent, cascade, inundation. But I've never heard it described as a "heap." When I hear "heap," I think of something like a heap of dirty laundry. Or a heap of mashed potatoes if you insist on a pleasanter image, but the point is that a heap tends to have form. Water at rest, unless it's in zero gravity, takes the form of its container. Seeing a wave of water so massive that it resembled a heap must have really been awe-inspiring. More so than a pile of dirty laundry, at least.

Joshua 2

Evasion, dissemblance, equivocation, obfuscation, prevarication--all are basically fancy euphemisms for lying. Lying, as we've been taught, is a big no-no, and indeed, in many situations, lying indeed results in hurt feelings, unfair advantage, or even ruptured relationships. And yet, is lying ever good? Lying to someone with clearly malicious intent seems more acceptable. I know I'm "invoking" Godwin's Law here, but I personally would not look down at all on a German who lied to the Nazis about hiding Jews in his home--quite the opposite, in fact.

Likewise, when two Israelite spies run a reconnaissance mission to Jericho, they meet a prostitute named Rahab who lies to the Jericho king in order to keep the spies safe. Yes, she lied to him, but author emphasizes not her lie but her generosity, assistance, and respect for God. She knows about what God has achieved for the Israelites (verses 9-10) and thus knows that Jericho is as doomed as a spider with all eight of its legs amputated. Sure, she's shrewd, but that practicality stems from her reverence for God.

The author of Joshua doesn't condemn Rahab for taking on the world's oldest profession. We don't know the circumstances surrounding Rahab's career choice, and I in particular am not knowledgeable about prostitution in ancient Near Eastern society. (I'm not knowledgeable about prostitution period, as a matter of fact, but that's neither here nor there.) But even though Rahab had a job that fulfilled the carnal desires of the weak-willed, she still rose above it to see who these Israelites, and their God, really were. Her faith and assistance would bear fruit that she couldn't have foreseen, for from her line would come Jesus Himself.

I don't know any prostitutes, personally or otherwise, but I do have to remember that those who are disadvantaged, overlooked, or uncharismatic are all God's children and thus have the potential to be--and often are--as kindhearted as a close friend. Opportunities for love and a happy life shouldn't depend on one's physical looks or the circumstances of one's birth--a platitude easy to parrot, but all too difficult for me to put into practice. To quote the character Anton Ego from Ratatouille, "Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere."

Finally, I want to note another case of repetition: some form of the phrase "melting in fear" appears twice in this chapter (verses 11 and 24). The people of Jericho must be pretty petrified (though that makes me wonder--if they're so terrified, why don't they do what Rahab did and acknowledge God?) When I think of people "melting," I always think of the fate of poor Toht, one of the villains of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I'd normally include the image or a GIF here, put it's pretty gruesome and gory (especially for a PG movie), so you can look it up yourself if you so desire.

Joshua 1

I admit that I'm not a rabid sports fan, but I do enjoy rooting for the local teams alongside friends and family. The San Francisco Giants currently have an odd (though certainly welcome) trend going on as they've won the World Series every other year since 2010. (Which means it's their turn to win again this year, which will perhaps assuage at least some of the sting of the last-minute collapses of the Sharks and the Warriors this year.)

In the 2012 World Series, the Giants swept the Detroit Tigers 4-0 to nag the pennant. Perhaps not very dramatic, but still a joy to watch at the time. In 2014, however, the Giants and the Kansas City Royals went back and forth for the first six games, with some outrageously lopsided scores on both sides. It all came down to nail-biting Game 7. The Giants took a one-run lead in the fourth inning and held on to that lead for the next five innings thanks to a transcendent performance from pitcher Madison Bumgarner. In hindsight, the 2014 series was much more dramatic and probably more interesting, but at the time, I'm sure many Giants fans wished that the team hadn't cut it quite so close.

Conflict, stress, and strife suck, but they make for engrossing stories. When was the last time you read a good book or saw a great movie where everyone got along and had no problems whatsoever? In Joshua, for the most part, events turn out in Israel's favor. Everything seems to go their way. Why? Because they--get this--actually obey God put their trust in Him.

In chapter 1, God and Joshua use some variant of "Be strong and courageous" no fewer than four times (verses 6, 7, 9, and 18). I don't know about you, but I respond much better to encouragement than to contemptuous ridicule. Of course, I also prefer constructive criticism to mindless Yes-Men--and God definitely does let His people know when they go astray. But note how the "strong and courageous" message travels from God down to Joshua and then to the Israelites, who in turn offer the encouragement back in verse 18. This creates a sense of mutual support, a mood of "we're all in this together," to use the current vernacular.

With this encouragement, the Israelites readily agree to obey God and Joshua; the Reubenites, Gadites, and the half-tribe of Manasseh say, "Whatever you have commanded us we will do, and wherever you send us we will go" (verse 16). I need to have the same attitude toward God, allowing Him to take me where He wills. I find it all too easy to nestle complacently where I am, and yet if I am to grow in my faith, I will need to broaden my experiences. As for the Israelites, they are on the cusp of witnessing the wonders their faith will engender.