BAM! THAT IS THE mental sound I imagine readers hear when they encounter the book of Joshua for the first time. Reading it can be, frankly, a jarring experience, especially if one’s first exposure to the Bible comes through hearing the gospel from friends and through immersion in the New Testament. The New Testament does not prepare readers for the world of military violence and ethnic cleansing in Joshua’s pages. Serious, troubling questions about God’s attitude toward his created peoples arise, questions with no easy answer. But the book of Joshua presents itself, warts (and wars!) and all, and asks readers to let it tell its story from its point of view and out of its ancient context. It asks them to give it the benefit of the doubt and permit it to speak to them.
This commentary aims to give its voice a clear hearing—to translate its ancient cultural form in such a way that it freely speaks about the life of faith today. Basically, the book of Joshua tells how biblical Israel navigated a major historical transition early in its national life. For ancient Israel, the transition concerns a change of leadership from Moses to Joshua and a change of lifestyle—from life as wandering clans of herdsmen to life as a settled nation of farmers on its own land. The book shows that guiding these changes is Israel’s God, Yahweh, through his chosen servant, Joshua. The introductory sections to follow set the scene for entering the book of Joshua and the ancient world about which it reports.
Getting Started
TITLE AND CANON. Jewish tradition claims that “Joshua wrote the book that bears his name,”1 but few affirm that today. More likely, the book of Joshua is named for its main character whose exploits as Israel’s leader after Moses dominate its contents. The book is the sixth book in the Hebrew Bible, following the five books of its first canonical section, the Torah. Joshua also marks the first book of the canon’s second section, the Prophets—more specifically, the subsection known as the Former (i.e., “earlier”) Prophets, books often designated as “historical books” (Joshua, Judges, 1-2 Samuel, 1-2 Kings). The Latter Prophets comprise the second subsection and include books familiar to most readers as prophetic (e.g., Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the twelve minor prophets). Thus, the compilers of the canon regarded Joshua as a “prophetic book,” either because they traced its origin to a prophet (or prophets), or because they believed it proclaimed God’s word. At the end of the book, Joshua invokes the messenger formula like a typical prophet (“This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says”) and proclaims Yahweh’s word in the first person (Josh. 24:2–13). This may have influenced their thinking.
Text. Compared to other biblical books, the Hebrew text (MT) of Joshua is in relatively good condition, so scholars rarely need to propose emendations for it to make sense. It provides the textual basis for the present commentary. The situation with the ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament (the Septuagint or LXX), however, is more problematic. It is preserved in several versions (or recensions) with the Old Greek being the most important.2 Its overall length is about five per cent shorter than the MT, even lacking a few verses present in the latter (6:4; 8:13, 26; 10:15; 20:4–6). Scholars have wondered how to account for the LXX. Does it imply that the translators used a Hebrew text different from MT, or did they simply abbreviate the MT while rendering it into Greek? The two fragments of Joshua among the Dead Sea Scrolls seem to confirm the former assumption and suggest that the Qumran scribes also made use of a third Hebrew text, one that even differed from MT.3
The Contents of the Book of Joshua
THE BOOK OF JOSHUA tells the story of how Joshua led the Israelites to conquer and settle in Canaan, the land of promise. The book proceeds through three main sections: reports about the conquest (chs. 1–12), reports about Joshua’s distribution of tribal inheritances (chs. 13–21), and reports during the early years of settlement (chs. 22–24).
The conquest section opens with Yahweh’s affirmation of Joshua as Moses’ successor after the latter’s death. Joshua has his officers prepare the people to enter the land while he himself reconfirms an earlier promise by the Transjordanian tribes to help the other tribes conquer land west of the Jordan (ch. 1). As his first strategic move, Joshua dispatches spies to Jericho, where a Canaanite prostitute named Rahab shelters them, reveals Canaanite terror of Yahweh and Israel, and receives an oath of safety from the spies (ch. 2). On Yahweh’s orders, the ark of the covenant leads Israel’s dramatic, ceremonial crossing of the Jordan. When it reaches the river, the Jordan stops flowing and Israel crosses on dry land, a miracle whose meaning Israel is to teach future generations (chs. 3–4). On Joshua’s orders, a prechosen representative from each tribe also carries a stone from the dry riverbed, and Joshua arranges the twelve into a stone memorial at Gilgal.
At Gilgal, Israel’s first campsite inside the land, Joshua circumcises all uncircumcised males and leads Israel in celebrating the Passover (ch. 5). These acts ritually sanctify Israel for doing Yahweh war and celebrate their long-awaited arrival in the Promised Land. Further, Israel’s daily wilderness staple, manna, stops, so produce of Canaan will now feed them. Empowered by a surprise, mysterious meeting with the commander of Yahweh’s heavenly army (5:13–15), Joshua leads a seven-day ceremonial conquest and fiery destruction of Jericho—sparing Rahab, of course—and curses the city (ch. 6).
Advised by a second spy mission, Joshua sends a small military force inland to capture the city of Ai, but they are unexpectedly routed. The defeat upsets Joshua but also reveals the secret sin of a Judahite named Achan at Jericho. Lot-casting unmasks him as the criminal responsible for the rout, and Joshua and Israel take him to Trouble Valley, where they stone and burn him and his family. They pile rocks over him to mark his gravesite, and the name “Trouble” Valley forever recalls the terrible “trouble” he caused Israel (ch. 7). On Yahweh’s orders, Joshua and the whole army again attack Ai, this time toppling it by a clever ambush. Joshua burns the city and executes its king, piling stones over his body to mark his burial place (ch. 8).
The implications of Ai’s fall to Israel so frightens kings in Canaan that they gather to prepare for war. But one threatened ethnic group, the Gibeonites, visits Gilgal pretending to be foreigners on a long trip to make peace with Israel. Their ruse succeeds and Israel swears an oath by Yahweh to seal the treaty. When their deception comes to light, Israel lets the Gibeonites live but assigns them permanently to supply Yahweh’s sanctuary with wood and water (ch. 9). Learning of the treaty, the king of Jerusalem rallies Canaanite allies to lay siege to Gibeon, but with Yahweh’s assurance of victory, Israel breaks the siege and destroys the fleeing army. The day’s highpoint is that Yahweh answers Joshua’s petition to have the sun “stand still,” and the battle has amazing results. Israel not only captures and executes the original five royal conspirators but, more importantly, ends up capturing all of southern Canaan (ch. 10).
Next, a northern campaign wins Israel all of northern Canaan and includes the burning of Hazor, its most prominent city. A long closing summary (ch. 11) celebrates the totality of Joshua’s conquests—all of Canaan and even the dreaded Anakites—and its resulting rest from war. Joshua 12 tallies up Israel’s victories: thirty-one kings defeated on both sides of the Jordan.
The book’s second section opens with a survey of areas of Canaan not yet in Israel’s hands and of lands in Transjordan previously distributed by Moses to Reuben, Gad, and East Manasseh (ch. 13). Then Joshua and Eleazar the priest distribute inheritances among the tribes, the first allotments going to the hero Caleb, Judah (chs. 14–15), Ephraim (ch. 16), and West Manasseh (ch. 17). But for the first time the Bible writer also sounds an ominous note, the inability of these tribes to dislodge the Canaanites from their inheritances (15:63; 16:10; 17:12–18). Next, after surveying the areas still available, the remaining seven tribes cast lots at Shiloh to distribute land to Benjamin (ch. 18), Simeon, Zebulun, Issachar, Asher, Naphtali, and Dan (ch. 19). The people of Israel also give Joshua his inheritance—the town of Timnath Serah in Ephraim (19:49–50)—and a concluding summary draws the distribution of tribal inheritances to a close (19:51). But the book’s settlement section also reports two special land provisions: the naming of cities of refuge throughout the land (ch. 20) and the assignment of towns and pastures within every tribe’s inheritance for the Levites (ch. 21). To conclude, the writer emphatically affirms that Yahweh has kept every promise, including his ancient promise of land and rest (21:43–45).
Finally, three dramatic scenes comprise the last section (chs. 22–24). Joshua dismisses the Transjordanian tribes to their inheritances east of the Jordan, the end of an important theme from ch. 1. The discovery of a huge, suspicious altar built by them on the west bank, however, leads a west-bank delegation to visit the Transjordanians and to accuse them of idolatry. But the east-bank tribes explain that the altar is not for idolatrous sacrifices but a witness to their worship of Yahweh and membership in Israel. Their persuasive explanation ends the threat of civil war (ch. 22).
About this time, Joshua gives a passionate farewell speech before an all-Israelite assembly, probably at Shiloh. He urgently warns Israel to keep their distance from the remaining Canaanites lest the latter ensnare them in religious compromise (ch. 23). At another national assembly at Shechem, Joshua leads Israel to renounce other gods and willingly to covenant together to serve only Yahweh. The book ends where it began—with death—specifically, with three burial notices of key Israelite leaders (Joshua, Joseph, and Eleazar). The author applauds Joshua and his generation of leaders for keeping Israel faithful to Yahweh during their tenure (ch. 24).
JOSHUA IS BEST KNOWN as the hero of the book that bears his name. He assumes the helm of Israel after Moses’ death, leads the conquest and settlement of the land, and prepares Israel for life with Yahweh in Canaan after his death. Often overlooked, however, is his long, notable career prior to his succession of Moses. He makes his narrative debut rather suddenly in Exodus 17 when Moses abruptly tasks him—canonically, unheard-of before but certainly well known to Moses—with leading Israel’s defense against Amalekite raiders (17:9–10).4 Joshua’s victory—fledgling Israel’s first—early confirms his leadership abilities later put on display in Canaan. More telling, after the battle Yahweh orders Moses to make sure that Joshua hears God’s promise to wipe out Amalek (v. 14). Implicitly, this comment hints that Joshua will eventually succeed Moses, although Israel has not yet even reached Sinai (v. 14).
Joshua next appears as Moses’ aide during the period at Mount Sinai when Yahweh issues his instructions (Ex. 24:13; 33:11). Joshua’s first reported words may reveal something of his military instincts. As he and Moses descend Mount Sinai, Joshua immediately interprets the shouting coming from the direction of Israel’s camp as “the sound of war” (32:17). In reality, the ruckus is the sound of Israel worshiping the golden calf.
Joshua seems to emerge as a leader during Israel’s itinerary through the wilderness toward Canaan. His second-reported words are a short, passionate plea that Moses stop two Israelite men from prophesying, a plea Moses rejects (Num. 11:28). More importantly, Joshua makes a fateful choice in connection with Moses’ dispatch of twelve spies to reconnoiter Canaan. A man named Hoshea son of Nun represents the tribe of Ephraim among the spies (Num. 13:8), and a later parenthetical comment explains that Joshua was the name that Moses used for Hoshea (v. 16).5 Moses’ preference for Joshua (Heb. yehošuaʿ, “Yahweh is salvation”) over Hoshea (“salvation”) certainly highlights Joshua’s relationship with Yahweh and perhaps even attests his life of loyal obedience.6 Among the returning spies, only Joshua and Caleb favor moving ahead with the invasion of Canaan. Their fateful choice places them among the few from the exodus generation whom Yahweh permits to enter the land (Num. 14:6, 30, 38; 26:65).7
Several important scenes prepare Israel for the leadership transition from Moses to Joshua. First, Yahweh has Moses publicly commission Joshua, his long-time “aide” (Heb. mešaret; Ex. 24:13; 33:11; Num. 11:28), as his successor. This step is necessary because Yahweh had already declared that Moses himself would not lead Israel into the land (Num. 20:12). In a dramatic scene played out before Eleazar the priest and all Israel, Moses lays his hands on Joshua, symbolically effecting Joshua’s appointment (Num. 27:18–23).
Next, Joshua’s subsequent narrative appearances in the Pentateuch also concern the coming transition from Moses to Joshua. Moses briefs his successor-designate (and Eleazar) on his special agreement with the Transjordanian tribes to ensure that Joshua and Eleazar hold them accountable, a duty Joshua in fact later carries out (Num. 32:28; cf. Josh. 1:12–18; 22:1–9). Further, through Mosaic appointment, Yahweh publicly names Joshua and Eleazar to oversee the distribution of inheritances among the tribes once Israel possesses the land (Num. 34:17; cf. Josh. 14:1; 19:51). Later, as assembled Israel watches, Moses publicly affirms Joshua as the one to lead Israel into the land and charges him to be “strong and courageous” (Deut. 31:3, 7).
In another dramatic scene, Yahweh orders Moses and Joshua to appear together at the Tent of Meeting so that Yahweh himself may commission Joshua (Deut. 31:14). Yahweh reiterates Moses’ charge to Joshua (“be strong and courageous”) and promises Joshua success and Yahweh’s own presence with him in the future (v. 23). Later, Joshua accompanies Moses while the latter sings his lengthy song before all Israel (32:44). After Moses’ death, Yahweh formally puts the long-expected plan into effect in a long personal address (Josh. 1:1–9). Israel readily accepts Joshua’s leadership because Moses had conveyed to him “the spirit of wisdom” (Deut. 34:9), and the book of Joshua traces its hero’s rise in popular stature during the conquest and settlement.8 At his own death, Joshua receives a closing tribute similar to that accorded Moses (Josh. 24:31; Judg. 2:8). In retrospect, what sets Joshua apart are two essential spiritual qualifications for leadership: he has God’s spirit (Num. 27:18 [“a man in whom is the spirit”]) and shows a consistent pattern of obedience (32:12 [“followed the LORD wholeheartedly”]).
Finally, memories of Joshua surface in other biblical texts. First Kings 16:34 recalls Joshua’s cursing of Jericho (cf. Josh. 6:26). About 450 B.C. Nehemiah observes that the Feast of Booths had not been observed in Israel since Joshua’s days (Neh. 8:17), and ca. 400 B.C. the Chronicler records his genealogy (1 Chron. 7:27). Four centuries later, the soon-to-be-martyred Stephen mentions Joshua (Acts 7:45) and the writer of Hebrews contrasts the “rest” that Joshua did not give with the “rest” available to believers today (Heb. 4:8).
The Historical Setting of Joshua
THE GEOGRAPHICAL ARENA IN which the book of Joshua plays out is the Levant, including Canaan, Transjordan, Lebanon, and southern Syria. The time period assumed, however, depends on which of the two possible dates one prefers for the exodus from Egypt.9 According to 1 Kings 6:1, 480 years intervened between the Exodus and Solomon’s fourth year (966 B.C.), data that yield the so-called early date for the Exodus (1446 B.C.).10 Those who hold to a late date, however, interpret the 480 years as a round, symbolic figure rather than a chronological one (i.e., 12 generations of 40 years each). Further, they argue that Rameses (Ex. 1:11; 12:37) is probably the royal city Pi-Rameses founded by Pharaoh Rameses II (1290–1224 B.C.), and so the Exodus must be dated to his reign (ca. 1250 B.C.). The present writer favors the latter view, but the discussion to follow will describe the situation in Canaan relevant to both dates (ca. 1500–1100 B.C.).11
Egypt dominates the politics of Syria-Palestine during this period, a hegemonic grip hard won in a century of wars (sixteenth to fifteenth cent. B.C.) that later loosens in the late twelfth-century B.C.12 Canaan forms a key part of an Egyptian empire that extends north and east of Canaan and over which authorities posted by the pharaoh preside. The pharaonic representatives supervised the local princes, each of whom ruled a central fortified city and the small villages in the surrounding countryside. Some megacities like Hazor and Shechem even held sway over other cities within their geographical reach (cf. Josh. 10:1–5).
Most cities lay along the Mediterranean coast, the land’s few rivers, and roads leading inland, but a few also were in the hill country (i.e., Shechem, Jerusalem). Ancient sources also mention a more mobile population in the region, pastoral peoples like the much-discussed habiru, who migrated seasonally in the land.13 The late fifteenth century saw a decrease in the number of Canaanite cities and in the population in the hill country and the Negev. The number of Egyptian military forts and administrative centers, however, increased to maintain control and to raise revenues for the pharaoh.14 Canaan sent him an impressive list of “profits”: grain, wine, oil, horses, copper, timber, furniture, pottery, garments, and slaves. Pharaoh shared in the dynamic, prosperous “world economy” of international trade that at the time linked and enriched peoples of the entire eastern Mediterranean.15
The Amarna Letters offer brief, illuminating snapshots of life in Canaan in the following century (fourteenth cent. B.C.). To promote better Egyptian-Canaanite relations, Canaanite princes were taken to Egypt and raised there, and their daughters became part of the imperial court. Despite the strong Egyptian presence, local Canaanite rulers still jockeyed for political power with each other. The Egyptians often had to intervene in such conflicts, but they also played them to their own advantage. In the thirteenth to twelfth centuries, events on the edges of the empire—the Hittites’ conquest of southern Syria and increasing incursions of herders into southern Canaan—spawned an increase in pharaonic campaigns, fortresses, and governor’s palaces to tighten Egypt’s grip.
About 1200 B.C., however, great changes swept lands in and along the Aegean Sea as well as countries along the eastern Mediterranean. A widespread political and economic crisis gripped the formerly stable and prosperous region.16 The once-great Hittite empire disintegrated, and important cities like Ugarit (south Lebanon) and Emar (north Syria) suffered destruction and went unoccupied. In Greece, the once-important Mycenaean cities lost influence and were either destroyed or left vacant. By the mid-twelfth century, Egypt had completely retreated from Canaan.
As a result, a kind of “dark age” descends on the region until signs of recovery dawn in the tenth century.17 At the same time (and perhaps because of the crisis), migrations of large people groups like the mysterious “sea peoples” known from Egyptian sources reshape the region’s ethnic landscape.18 The later biblical Philistines, probably a subgroup among them, apparently arrived in Canaan as mercenaries manning strategic Egyptian garrisons like Gaza, Beth Shean, and Dor.19 But Egypt’s withdrawal from Canaan apparently left those troops to fend for themselves, so each garrison reconstituted itself as an independent city. By ca. 1000 B.C., five such cities comprised a confederation of Philistines, each with its own ruler (Josh. 13:3; 1 Sam. 6:4, 18).20 Meanwhile, the demise of the international “superpowers” and their ancient networks left Canaan fragmented among smaller, more regionalized cultures and economic centers during Iron Age I (post-1200 B.C.).21
In short, the lay of the land of Canaan that Israel would have navigated upon entrance depends on the century of that entry. On arrival ca. 1400 B.C. the Israelites would have found a Canaan presided over by local kings ruling city-states but accountable to the Egyptian empire. Geographically, population centers lay along the coast, the Sharon Plain, the Jordan and Jezreel Valleys, and along main roads. Important Canaanite cities included Shechem, Taanach, Megiddo, Bethel, Gezer, and Beth Shean (Judg. 1:22, 27, 29), but the hill country was relatively unpopulated. Canaan’s share in international trade graced the region with material prosperity.
The geographical situation greeting an Israelite entry a few decades before 1200 B.C. would not have markedly differed from the situation just noted (cf. Num. 13:29). Canaan’s major cities included Dor along the coast, Taanach and Megiddo along the Jezreel Valley, Beth Shean in the Jordan Valley, Bethel in the hill country, and Gezer in the western lowlands (Judg. 1:22, 27, 29). There was also an enclave of Amorites entrenched in the Aijalon Valley (Judg. 1:34). Politically, the same major city-states still existed but were in decline, and the Egyptians were either gone or on their way out. Economically, regional connections between ethnic groups had replaced the former world economy. Prosperity was not reigning as in the past, Canaan’s material culture was in decline, and the entire region was in the process of redefining itself. In sum, this was an unsettled time of great transition but one fraught with great possibilities.
How and When We Got the Book of Joshua
UNLIKE JEWISH TRADITION, THE Old Testament nowhere explains how the book of Joshua came to be, so internal clues offer the only illumination on the matter. Thankfully, the clues are plentiful, but to tease out their significance requires careful nuancing.
The remarkable variety of materials within the book offers the first clue. Joshua has a spy story (ch. 2), battle reports (8:1–29; ch. 11), annalistic reports (10:28–39), and reports of dramatic religious ceremonies (chs. 3–4; 5; 6; 8:30–35; 24:1–28). Toward the end of the book, speeches play a prominent role (ch. 22; 23 [Joshua]; 24:2–13 [Yahweh]), as does the long report of the land distribution among the tribes (chs. 13–19). The latter is particularly interesting in two respects. First, the kind and depth of information varies strikingly from tribe to tribe (see the table below). For example, Judah and Benjamin receive very detailed treatments (ch. 15; 18:11–28) compared to the sketchy pictures of Issachar and Dan (19:17–23, 40–48). Also, the description of Ephraim, one of Israel’s two largest tribes (with Judah) and the heart of the later northern kingdom, is startling in its complete omission of a list of towns (16:1–10). Second, several town lists include the same town—e.g., Kiriath Jearim by Judah and Benjamin (15:60; 18:28), and Eshtaol by Judah and Dan (15:33; 19:41). These minor discrepancies probably reflect small, unexplained shifts in tribal boundaries and, more importantly, imply that the lists derive from diverse sources, even chronologically. All the above phenomena suggest that Joshua comprises an edited compilation of source materials.
The second important clue is the strong influence of the book of Deuteronomy on Joshua. The book often stresses how the actions of Joshua and/or Israel line up with Moses’ commands in Deuteronomy. This is supremely true of his mandate that Israel annihilate Canaan’s seven peoples (Deut. 7:1–2; 20:16–18; cf. Josh. 9:24; 11:12) and that Joshua distribute the land of Canaan among the tribes (Deut. 31:7; cf. Josh. 14:2, 5).22 Key terms in Joshua also echo the language of Moses in Deuteronomy—e.g., the theme of Canaan as divinely given “rest [from enemies]” (Josh. 1:13; 21:44; 22:4; 23:1; cf. Deut. 3:20; 25:19), and the demand that Israel “love” and “serve” only Yahweh (Josh. 22:5; cf. Deut. 10:12; 11:13).
The same deuteronomic influence is evident in Judges, 1-2 Samuel, and 1-2 Kings, and that important observation led M. Noth to argue that Joshua and the latter books originated as a single, long history, the Deuteronomistic History (DH), with Deuteronomy as its preface.23 According to Noth, an editor (the “Deuteronomist”) compiled the entire history during the Exile (ca. 550 B.C.), shaping it in light of Deuteronomy’s theology of history. Noth’s thesis has spawned more than a half century of lively scholarly discussion that has considerably modified the theory.24 For example, many scholars now believe that the DH actually appeared in two successive editions, the first during the reign of Josiah (seventh cent. B.C.) and the second during the Exile (ca. 550 B.C.). The first edition recounted the history from Joshua to Josiah, while the second continued it down to the release of King Jehoiachin from prison in Babylon (2 Kings 25:27–30). But as Hess has noted, many themes that constitute deuteronomic theology are also attested elsewhere in the ancient Near East and prior to the seventh century B.C.25
Furthermore, acceptance of a Deuteronomistic historian does not deny the antiquity of the contents of much of Deuteronomy, nor does it preclude the possibility that the DH, or at least parts of it, may have found written form as early as the early monarchy.26 Moreover, if one holds that the book flowered in Josiah’s day, it probably had roots much earlier in Israel. The implication for the question of how the book of Joshua came to be is this: one may tentatively regard the Deuteronomist as its author, whatever date one assigns him, since that person in effect wrote it drawing on earlier sources. His is the voice that often wraps up a verse or episode by noting something just reported from the past that still exists “until this day” (ʿad hayyom hazzeh).27 The remark reveals that time has intervened between the event(s) reported and his own day.
The present book still shows evidence of the earlier sources on which the Deuteronomist drew. In Joshua 10:12–13, he explicitly cites the Book of Jashar, usually thought to be a collection of ancient poetry (cf. 2 Sam. 1:18), in connection with Joshua’s poetic prayer.28 Also, in my view, the instruction to explain the Jordan crossing to later generations seems to imply an ongoing tradition of family pilgrimages to Gilgal (4:6, 21–24). This (and other texts) has led many scholars to theorize that the ancient sanctuary at Gilgal may have been the source of many of the cultic ceremonies that the present book reports (e.g., chs. 3–4; ch. 5).29 Many scholars also believe that the Deuteronomist’s treatment of the Conquest incorporated and expanded a much earlier account (Josh. 1–11).30 Younger’s influential study certainly shows that Joshua 9–12 compares closely to ancient Near Eastern conquest accounts (1300–600 B.C.).31
But the lengthy report of the land allotments (Josh. 13–19) marks the most obvious use of sources by the Deuteronomist and has elicited considerable scholarly discussion concerning their source and date. The narrator awards pride of place to Judah, an indication perhaps of the writer’s Judahite perspective and sources.32 That the writer lumps Ephraim and Manasseh with Judah probably reflects their historical importance in his eyes. Judah and Joseph comprise the core of the Israelite heartland between Hebron and Shechem.33
The lists of cities/towns and boundaries probably were compiled at least as early as the era of David and Solomon (tenth cent. B.C.) and represent the historical reality of that day.34 That the Canaanites pose the prime threat to Israel in Joshua possibly confirms an early monarchical date for those portions of Joshua, since the Canaanites (but not their religion) virtually slip from the biblical radar screen after Solomon’s subjection of them (see 1 Kings 9:20–21).35 But, as Hess plausibly argues, an origin for the materials that comprise Joshua 13–19 in the premonarchical period also remains possible.36 The land divisions in those chapters correspond most closely to the picture of Canaan’s regions in the Amarna letters (fourteenth cent. B.C.), the only time in Israel’s history that such a correspondence would be the case. Furthermore, early Israel’s agricultural economy would certainly have needed some system of land boundaries in order to function. Whatever the case, it seems likely that in Joshua 13–19 the Deuteronomist has incorporated ancient materials to round out his portrait of Israel’s settlement. The boundary descriptions in Cisjordan may, in fact, actually follow ancient Iron Age roads.37
Finally, some scholars propose that priests edited and supplemented the book of Joshua in the Persian period (fifth cent B.C.).38 The introduction of the priest Eleazar to preside with Joshua over the land distribution (14:1; 17:4; 19:51; 21:1; 24:33) strikes them as literarily abrupt, and they credit the land allotment narrative (chs. 13–19) and certain cultic texts (e.g., 5:2–12; 8:30–35) to late priestly editorial activity. Though possible, this thesis remains a matter of dispute, mainly because the observations that underlie it bear other equally plausible explanations. Also, even to accept them as priestly need not require the Persian period date often proposed.
Did the Conquest Really Happen?
SCHOLARS HAVE LONG OBSERVED that the Bible seems to offer two different portraits of the conquest of Canaan. The portrait in Joshua 1–12 affirms that “Joshua took the entire land” (Josh. 11:16, 23), but the second pictures the conquest as a long process carried out locally by individual tribes.39 The contrasting pictures have led many scholars to doubt the historical accuracy of this book. Indeed, a third portrait—the emerging archaeological portrait of Canaan’s history—has further intensified that skepticism among them. It has, further, led them to propose several new, alternative scenarios concerning how the conquest of Canaan happened (or did not). Some scenarios also imply an understanding of how the people of Israel itself came into being that differs from the biblical portrait. The proposals surveyed below range across a spectrum from “minimalist” (i.e., Israel originated no earlier than the Persian period) and “maximalist” (Israel originated pretty much as the Bible says).40
Exogenous Models
SEVERAL CONQUEST MODELS TRACE Israel’s origins to somewhere (or somehow) outside of Canaan. The military conquest model concedes that the process of arrival and settlement may have been complex but accepts the biblical account as historically reliable. In the past, archaeological evidence—especially the widespread destruction in Canaan ca. 1200 B.C.—played a key evidentiary role.41 But that approach faces three difficulties. First, only two of nineteen sites that Joshua mentions suffered destruction; second, it is unclear exactly who (Israel or others) destroyed the two sites; and, third, the appeal to widespread destruction conflicts with biblical statements that Israel burned only three cities—Jericho, Ai, and Hazor (Josh. 6:24; 8:28; 11:13). Today, advocates of this view, the present writer included, accept that Joshua 6–11 offers a repetitive, stereotyped account marked by occasional hyperbole, yet affirm its historical value.
The peaceful infiltration model first proposed a half-century ago by A. Alt and M. Noth suggests that Israel, formerly nomads or seminomads for centuries, peacefully infiltrated Canaan.42 They settled in the sparsely populated hill country, thus avoiding military conflicts, and gradually came to dominate the land. The worship of Yahweh and a loose political organization called an amphictyony united them. Recent scholars, however, have abandoned the amphictyony concept as an accurate description of Israel’s situation. Also, they understand the relationship between nomadic herders and settled peoples to be an ongoing, symbiotic one rather than assume (as Alt and Noth did) an inherent conflict between nomads and nonnomads. Finally, some scholars question the necessity of the skeptical stance that led Alt and Noth to deny the historical reliability of the biblical record.
The peasants’ revolt model, the theory of G. Mendenhall and N. Gottwald, proposes a sociopolitical scenario for the conquest.43 Mendenhall’s view traces it to an alliance of rural, marginalized Canaanite peoples with a newly arrived group of slaves treasuring a myth of rescue from slavery by their God Yahweh and bound to him by a covenant. (The role that Mendenhall assigns this external group stamps his view as exogenous.) As simple farmers and herdsmen living in rural areas, both groups found themselves at the bottom of Canaanite society oppressed by the kings of powerful city-states. According to Mendenhall, the emergence in Canaan of the hapiru (in his view, the Hebrews) as an alienated group lit the match of revolt among aggrieved peasant farmers. Gottwald’s unique contribution is to interpret this revolt through Marxist ideology—that is, as the revolutionary attempt of a proletariat peasantry to overthrow their feudal overlords.
Several criticisms stand against the peasants’ revolt model. First, it seems to assume (wrongly, in the view of many) that nomads favor an egalitarian approach to leadership rather than a hierarchical one. Second, it fails to reckon with the now well-attested symbiotic relationship between city-dwellers and rural folk noted above. Put differently, to presume that a transition from a nomadic lifestyle to a sedentary one somehow marks a form of cultural advance is questionable. Finally, as noted above, the present consensus no longer reads the term hapiru as an ethnic term that equates to “Hebrews.”
MOST RECENT MODELS PROPOSE scenarios in which Israel originates within Canaan rather than outside it. They appeal to archaeological evidence for Iron Age I, especially the sudden population surge evident in the central hill country. Specific proposals vary, but they all share two common questions: who are the people that suddenly settle in the central hill country in such great numbers and from where do they come?
Archaeologist W. Dever recently proposed a collapse model for Israel’s origins within Canaan.44 In his view, these “proto-Israelites” (his term) originally were long-settled rural farmers from the fringes of Canaanite society. When major Canaanite coastal cities collapsed in the Late Bronze Age (1570–1200 B.C.), Israel emerged from the people who moved inland to the hill country as pioneers. They both brought with them pottery styles from the lowlands and used technological advances appropriate to the highlands (e.g., terraced farming, hewn water cisterns, stone grain silos, etc.). They built unique four-room houses with courtyards, tended small herds (but not pigs), and used unique collar-rim jars for storage. In his view, the continuity between these ethnic markers and later monarchical Israel confirms the continuity between proto-and later-Israel. In short, Dever’s understanding excludes any idea of an Israelite conquest of Canaan and also, in effect, disconnects Israel’s origins from the biblical claims of the Exodus. Many find his minimal use of the biblical story problematic.45
Interpreting the same data as Dever, fellow archaeologist I. Finkelstein proposes a cyclic model that traces Israel’s origins to pastoral nomads who settled permanently in the highlands.46 Nomads are always elusive to track, but Finkelstein claims that archaeological evidence from sanctuaries and cemeteries points to their presence—in his view, the shasu of ancient Egyptian (and other) texts. Behind Finkelstein’s proposal is his observation that during the third and second millennia B.C. Canaan saw three waves or cycles of settlement and two intervals of decline, all driven by socioeconomic factors. He argues that the new Iron Age developments in the central hill country simply comprise the third part of that larger cycle in which nomadic peoples give up migration for settlement. It is these newly settled nomads who populate the new hill country, not refugees from collapsed coastal cities (against Dever), and they form the Israel that later becomes a nation. In short, like Dever, Finkelstein’s view includes no Israelite conquest in it. Against Finkelstein, however, scholars wonder whether the limited data about the region’s ancient history can sustain his alleged pattern of cycles. Further, some critics fault him for explaining historical developments exclusively through environmental changes—a kind of “environmental determinism.”47
Finally, on the extreme “minimalist” side of the spectrum are scholars like P. R. Davies and W. Lemke, whose model marks a rejection of the conquest.48 In general, they exclude biblical reports as useless for any reconstruction of Israel’s early history. They reckon them as legendary, too theologically tainted, too dependent on unreliable oral tradition, and too chronologically late to contribute to any discussion of history. In their view, the history of Israel that the Bible recounts is simply a literary and theological creation of people in the postexilic period. Instead, scholars sharing this view lean primarily on archaeology and anthropology to support their individual theses concerning the history of Canaan.49 Discussion of an Israelite conquest is not an option, and some scholars hold that Israel as a distinct people did not actually emerge until the Persian period, if not later.
Needless to say, scholarly response to these so-called minimalists has been spirited and the criticisms many. Even scholars one might call “higher critics” criticize their dismissal of biblical traditions to irrelevancy as needlessly extreme. By far the most thorough recent assessment and alternative proposal comes from J. B. Kofoed.50 He argues persuasively that the skepticism of the minimalists is unsustainable and shows that the time lag between written biblical texts and the events they report does not disqualify the texts as historical sources.51 He, thus, aligns himself with many scholars who accept the antiquity of biblical traditions at least in oral tradition if not in written form.
If this view holds, then the one unique contention of the minimalists—the extremely late date they assign to the origin of Israel as a people—would become questionable.52 Also, discussion of the Conquest in Joshua as in some sense historical regains its place in scholarship.53
An Alternate Approach
THE APPROACH TO THE Conquest in the present commentary both departs from and draws on the above discussion. It aims at a more comprehensive model of the Conquest than those reviewed above and, hence, includes both biblical and archaeological evidence.54 Its point of departure is an understanding of the literary nature of the book of Joshua.
First, it recognizes that literary devices of hyperbole, ideology, and legitimation play important roles in the book. It accepts that Joshua simply invokes features typical of history writing in the ancient Near East.55 By implication, the presence of such traditional devices should caution readers against an overly literal interpretation of texts in Joshua.
Second, it accepts both the valuable contribution of Joshua to historical reconstruction and the limits of the book’s information (e.g., its selective content, its highly-structured narratives).
Third, unlike some scholars, the present approach refuses to pit biblical texts against each other (e.g., Josh. 10 versus Josh. 13 or Judg. 1) and decide that one is “historical” and the other “theologized.” In my view, it is preferable to accept potentially or apparently conflicting texts as reflecting either the literary genres in play (each demanding the appropriate reading strategy), the complex reality behind the text, or both.
To speak of that “complex reality” implies recognition of something crucial. Joshua pictures the conquest process as more complex than a simple, short military blitzkrieg. Instead, the picture is of “a long process of infiltration, fighting (including infighting), and transformation and realignment.”56 What took decades to accomplish, the book of Joshua has telescoped into a simplified, selective, focused glimpse. Certainly, the fall of the Egyptian empire, the presence of the Sea Peoples and nomadic stockbreeders, and the crisis of 1200 B.C. played important roles. One may allow that natural disasters like droughts and plagues also intervened.
Such a comprehensive, nuanced understanding helps explain the mysterious case of Shechem that figures prominently in the thinking of some scholars. According to Joshua, Israel twice convenes at that major, ancient city (Josh. 8:30–35; 24:1–28), but the book nowhere reports its conquest. Assuming a complex conquest and looking at Israel’s ancestral ties with the city, one may rightly speculate that Shechem came to Israel through some unusual means (e.g., peaceful infiltration, surrender, etc.). In addition, the cases of Rahab and the Gibeonites may represent a sample of other non-Israelite peoples that contributed to the process and formed part of early Israel in Canaan. In short, the biblical record follows the stereotypical conventions and telescoping of events typical of ancient conquest accounts. One must first understand it as literature before one can glean history from it. Its basic outline is historical but highly simplified; the conquest probably involved a long, drawn-out process accomplished over decades.
Early Israel and Archaeology
WHAT MAY ONE GLEAN about Israel from the archaeological record? The short answer is: very little about the Conquest but a good deal about the settlement. According to Joshua, the Israelites only destroyed three cities—Jericho, Ai, and Hazor—leaving the rest intact and ready for Israelites to occupy later. Thus, the frequent citation of destroyed cities other than that trio as evidence for the Israelite conquest is in reality biblically unnecessary.
A more important piece of evidence is the victory stele (1209 B.C.) of the Egyptian pharaoh Merneptah found at Thebes. It marks the earliest extrabiblical reference to Israel in the ancient world and clearly establishes the presence of an “Israel” at least ca. 1210 B.C. in the area of Canaan.57 The stele commemorates the pharaoh’s victories during his campaign into Canaan and lists “Israel” among his conquests:
The Canaan has been plundered into every sort of woe;
Ashkelon has been overcome;
Gezer has been captured;
Yanoam is made nonexistent;
Israel is laid waste and his seed is not;
Hurru is become a widow because of Egypt. 58
What is striking is that the hieroglyphs linguistically distinguish between Israel and the other adversaries (Ashkelon, Gezer, Yanoam). They define the latter as city-states or kingdoms headquartered at those cities but Israel as a “people”—as loosely connected, rural herders or farmers organized by tribes. But the context also implies them to be “a political-ethnic entity of sufficient importance to the Egyptians to warrant mention alongside the three Canaanite city-states.”59 Further, four battle reliefs at Karnak visually depict what the stele celebrates in words. Notably, it portrays Israel, not as nomads like the Shasu, but with the same hairstyles and clothing as the Canaanite city-states. The implication is that the Egyptians regarded Israel as an established socioethnic component of Canaan at the time of the battle.60 Finally, it implicitly locates Israel, so to speak, “in the open places,” which at the time would most likely be the hill country.61
Now if we factor in both archaeological and biblical data, several other lines of evidence point to the presence of Israel ca. 1200 B.C. in the sparsely populated central highlands. (1) The hill country shows clear evidence of numerical growth between the Late Bronze Age (thirteenth cent. B.C.) and the Iron Age (eleventh cent. B.C.). The number of village or hamlet sites increased from 29 to 254 with an estimated population rise from ca. 12,000 to ca. 42,000.62 It is especially telling that most of the sites are completely new ones, not ones built on the ruins of preexisting sites.
(2) The new settlements feature a new type of dwelling, the four-room, pillared house surrounding a small open courtyard. Further, the settlements cluster two or three such houses together with shared walls to form a kind of “family compound.”63
(3) Food remains and animal bones suggest that the settlers farmed and herded primarily sheep and goats but also donkeys and cattle. One anomaly is striking, however: compared to Iron I coastal sites, pig bones are virtually absent from these hill country villages, a possible telling ethnic mark for the settlers’ Israelite identity.64
(4) Several technological advances, again probably adaptations to the terrain, are evident.65 The hilly terrain proved the mother of invention among the settlers, specifically, the development of terrace-farming around their villages. Otherwise, for the most part hill country agriculture compares to that known for Canaanites, and that is not a surprise. Israel and the Canaanites shared common roots in West Semitic culture and had a history of contacts at least in the patriarchal past if not during the transition to settlement.66 Other technological innovations include unique means of storage—plastered water cisterns and grain silos.
However, iron implements appear to have replaced bronze only very slowly in the central highlands, a situation the Bible itself explains (1 Sam. 13:19–23). Similarly, there is little evidence of an indigenous, flourishing artistic tradition, perhaps because the settlers had priorities elsewhere or because the aesthetics of their neighbors was poor. In short, biblical and archaeological data open some windows through which to glimpse the pioneers who built up the hill country. The Mereneptah stele places Israel as a significant socioethnic entity in Canaan at least by 1210 B.C. Granted, no ancient writing identifies the new hill country arrivals as Israelites, but the population increase and technological innovations fit well the biblical picture of the arrival of Israel from elsewhere and its gradual settlement there.
Now, about All That Killing …
SOME YEARS AGO, HISTORIAN John Bright half-facetiously said about Joshua, “You simply cannot preach from this book, and you ought not to teach it to children. Shield our gentle ears from violence such as this!”67 What does one do with the wholesale killing of the Canaanites mandated in Deuteronomy and carried out in Joshua?68 What are Christian readers to make of the God whom Joshua portrays, much less the book by that name?
Basic Ideas
TO BEGIN, IT IS important to clarify the basic ideas that strike readers as offensive and problematic. The book of Joshua concerns “Yahweh war,” a well-attested biblical theme about the military victories God wins over his enemies, victories in which Israel participates.69 In Joshua, Yahweh war drives the defeats of Jericho, Ai, Gibeon, and southern and northern campaigns. Such war is a sacred act and, hence, requires ritual purity in Israel’s war camp and among its soldiers (Deut. 23:9–14; cf. Josh. 3:5; 1 Sam. 7:9–10). Theologically, this concept assumes that Yahweh has his enemies, that he alone (not Israel) wins the victory, and that Israel must simply rely on his power.70 The idea of ḥerem (including its prohibition of plunder) along with a cluster of other literary and theological themes show God’s role in the conquest stories and affirm that it is God’s work.
A second basic concept concerns the practice of ḥerem. In Joshua, the Hebrew word designates a religious act—“to devote to destruction” or “ban” (e.g., Josh. 6:21)—by which Israel consecrates objects to Yahweh for his exclusive possession and use. The prominence of ḥerem in Joshua, however, should not obscure the severe limitations of the practice. Only Yahweh himself has the authority to impose ḥerem on a city or people; no Israelite leader can do so. It is Yahweh, not Moses, Joshua, or anyone else, who decrees that Israel apply ḥerem to Canaan’s inhabitants (Deut. 20:16–18).
Further, in a specific instance of Yahweh war God does not automatically involve the imposition of ḥerem. On the contrary, Yahweh may fight and defeat enemies without the destruction being an act of ḥerem.
Finally, the primary application of the idea is to the conquest of Canaan rather than a broad policy with wide applicability and a long record of use. In the case of Canaan, it serves a specific, limited purpose, to protect the Israelites from idolatry by ridding the land of idol worshipers (Deut. 20:18). That protection is necessary lest Israel’s unfaithfulness hamper the advance of God’s salvation plan. In short, the concepts of Yahweh war and sacred destruction (ḥerem) comprise the violent, offensive reality that readers confront in Joshua, a reality that sparks questions about the character of God. My response to the problem begins with a challenge for readers squarely to face three unappealing, if not harsh, realities.
Three Unappealing Realities
THE FIRST UNAPPEALING REALITY is perhaps the most unpalatable to many: If there is any justice in the world, there still are people who do deserve destruction. This is the assumption that both the Old Testament and the New Testament share. Many psalms speak of “evildoers” worthy of divine destruction (Ps. 14:6; 125:5), and the prophets foresee destruction both for other nations and for Israel (Isa. 13:11; Jer. 7:12–15). Jesus condemned the Pharisees to future disaster for being “You snakes! You brood of vipers!” (Matt. 23:33). The scene of the Great White Throne judgment certainly assumes a final day of reckoning with eternal destruction a certain outcome for some (Rev. 20:11–15).
Most Bible readers know this, and that knowledge helps explain why they seem to have no qualms about the extermination of Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen. 18–19), even though the destruction of Jericho and Hazor also are acts of God. That the Bible pictures the former as depraved may ease their qualms, but it is also of interest that the peoples Canaan initiated hostilities against Israel, not the other way around (Josh. 9:1–2; 10:1–5; 11:1–5; cf. 2:2–3). Israel’s northern and southern campaigns (Josh. 10, 11) were in response to those hostile initiatives, not preemptive strikes. Even though the peoples knew the power of God (according to Rahab and the Gibeonites), they choose to stand against him. This fact should caution us against viewing the peoples of ancient Canaan simply as victims of some sort of injustice. At least some of them were God’s opponents.
The second unappealing reality is that ultimately a solution to the problem of the violence in Joshua may be elusive—at least, that is my conclusion after many years of wrestling with it. Emotionally, I do not see myself ever feeling completely comfortable with what transpires in Joshua. By that I do not mean that the book of Joshua, including its violence, has nothing to teach us or that it should never be read. Notwithstanding Bright’s comment above, I affirm that the book deserves to be preached and taught to children. After all, like it or not, it is part of the biblical canon. The commentary to follow will surely rebut any thoughts of blacklisting Joshua. I mean simply that people today read Joshua through modern lenses tinted by modern culture’s abhorrence of war and violence and—in the case of Christians—by Jesus’ ethical teachings.
The world of Joshua jars modern readers because it lies so distant from and sounds so discordant with theirs. The reality is that the ancient and modern worlds are truly different, with a gaping chasm of three thousand years and vast cultural distance between them. But, in a sense, readers’ discomfort with Joshua is a good sign: it shows the depth with which the gospel has transformed them. Few of us would rest easy with a Christian whose response to the destruction of Jericho was, “Hurray! That’s exactly what some people I know deserve!”
In fact, this second unappealing reality leads to my first two major points. (1) It is a fact that our situation today is totally different from that in Joshua’s day. There is no possible way to imitate the Conquest today. None of us lives as a covenant people entering a promised covenant land where the inhabitants stand under God’s judgment. In short, there is no biblical basis to apply the Conquest literally today.
(2) More importantly, the teachings of Jesus, so to speak, permanently eliminate the “Joshua option” of violence done in Jesus’ name. It is simply out of the question for Christians to resort to violence in the Christian cause. The world’s governments may treat Christians within their borders shabbily if not with extreme cruelty. Decisions by city councils, zoning authorities, or enforcers of building codes may occasionally make life difficult for a local church. In some situations, outright opposition to the gospel may in fact drive their deeds. But, in my view, one may not appeal to the book of Joshua to justify burning down city hall as Israel did Ai or stoning uncooperative local officials as Israel did Achan. Such actions would contradict everything that Jesus teaches and would also give the gospel a black eye in the public’s view. In short, Jesus’ teaching sets aside Joshua’s ḥerem and models a far different way of relating to outsiders. The book of Joshua in no way authorizes Christians today to “go and do likewise” to perceived enemies regardless of how unjust, outrageous, or insane the treatment received. It simply shows us what God did (it is descriptive), not what we should do (it is not prescriptive).
Further, L. Stone has rightly argued that texts within Joshua itself seem aimed to soften the book’s violent tone and subtly shift its focus elsewhere. They suggest that even the book’s editors felt discomfort with the idea of holy war and the annihilation of the Canaanites.71 A subtle downplaying of the martial and territorial motifs of Yahweh war is evident. For example, the book starkly contrasts the acceptance of Yahweh’s plan for Canaan by Rahab and the Gibeonites (2:9–11; 9–10) with the resistance to it by Canaanite kings (5:1; 9:1–2; 10:1–5; 11:1–5). Further, the contrast intentionally makes the case that the Canaanites perished for resisting Yahweh, not for religious decadence or economic oppression of peasants. The book’s message promotes responsiveness to Yahweh’s actions and warns against resistance to them.72 Its main theme is that holy war (Stone’s term) is ultimately more about “uncompromising obedience to Yahweh’s law” than about “territory or warfare.”73 Similarly, I would argue that Joshua 7–10 affirms actual divine acceptance of foreigners like Rahab and the Gibeonites within Israel.74 Catastrophe surrounds them, but they alone receive compassion—indeed, salvation—and their very survival implies that Yahweh permits exceptions to the ḥerem mandate. Those who acknowledge his greatness seem eligible for a waiver.
In short, the book of Joshua teaches two things: first, those who honor Yahweh’s greatness and do not teach Israel idolatry may remain in the land (e.g., Rahab, the Gibeonites); and, second, Yahweh expects of everyone in the land rigorous obedience to his instruction (e.g., references to it and Moses).75 Thus, Joshua’s openness to non-Israelites parallels the Old Testament’s inclusive themes and compares to the New Testament’s emphasis on the international ethnic inclusivity of the gospel (e.g., Acts 1:8; Rev. 5:9; 14:6).76 More importantly, Joshua displays the same mercy and compassion that Christians experience through Jesus Christ.
The rest of the Old Testament further confirms the point made above concerning the limited focus of the ḥerem policy on late second millennium Canaan. After Judges 2:23 the hero Joshua receives no mention at all until 1 Kings 16:34 recalls his oath over Jericho, after which he reappears only twice—in his family genealogy (1 Chron. 7:27) and in Nehemiah 8:17.77 Reviews of Israel’s early history by Samuel (1 Sam. 12:9–11), Yahweh (Mic. 6:5; Jer. 2:7), and the psalmist (Ps. 105:43–45) completely skip the conquest, as does Ezekiel’s vision of restoration (Ezek. 40–48). Other texts feature broad statements by Yahweh recalling how he “drove out” (garaš) the Canaanites (Judg. 6:9; Ps. 78:55; 80:8 [Heb. 9]) or brought Israel into the land (Ezek. 20:28). To my knowledge, only three texts, two featuring the verb yaraš (“take possession, destroy”), describe violent dispossession in war (Neh. 9:23–25; Ps. 44:2–3; Amos 2:10).78 Instead, other more inclusivist themes come to dominate the Old Testament: Yahweh’s beneficent rule over all nations and their worship of him in the present and future.79
In sum, the Old Testament rarely recalls the violent conquest, never glories in its goriness, and never promotes it as policy for the future. All references to it concern the display of Yahweh’s great power and generosity in giving Israel the land of promise. Clearly, they assume that only Yahweh has authority to take such actions, and he chose to do so in a specific time and place for specific purposes. In my view, the implication is that after Joshua the Old Testament, so to speak, “moved on” to more internationalist priorities. In that sense, the Old Testament even compares to Jesus’ teachings on violence.
The third unappealing reality is the fact that a theological truth accepted by readers probably undergirds biblical violence—the sovereignty of God. In Joshua 6–8, Yahweh applies ḥerem to Jericho and Ai differently. All of Jericho is ḥerem (“devoted to destruction”) so no plunder may be taken, but at Ai Israel may keep objects or animals for themselves.80 In my view, the latter displays God’s gracious concern to take care of his people’s needs. But behind both applications of ḥerem stands the important theological truth that God, as part of his universal sovereignty, owns everything. As owner, he has the authority to decide who may enjoy the use of his property. Psalm 24:1–2 almost echoes a deed of ownership when it says:
The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it;
for he founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters.
The Lord owns … , well, everything, including humans and all that they create from his created raw materials. Earth has no areas marked “Property of X” or “Belonging to Y”; everything is marked “Property of God” with no footnotes or exception clauses. Because he created everything, he owns everything, and humans own nothing—not even their own lives. The unappealing (to us) truth is that God can do whatever he wishes with what belongs to him—even take human lives. This leads to my third major point: the ḥerem policy is simply one way—from a human standpoint, a frightening one, to be sure—in which God, for whatever reason, chooses to exercise his sovereignty.
Finally, recall that the lone explanation in the book of Joshua for the annihilation of the Canaanites is that Yahweh decided to “harden their hearts” so that they would attack Israel and be destroyed by Yahweh (Josh. 11:20). The motive for his action may be finally to punish “the sin of the Amorites”—whatever that is—mentioned in Genesis 15:16. The timing certainly seems right: Their “sin” was to run its course, and then Israel—four generations after Abraham—would return to Canaan from slavery in Egypt. But the context of Joshua 11 instead simply contrasts their military aggression with the peace-seeking approach of the people of Gibeon (v. 19; cf. Josh. 9). As I noted above, the implication is that, had other Canaanites taken the latter approach, they, too, would have survived—that the Canaanites themselves bear responsibility for what happened to them.81 These comments voice the biblical writer’s perspective on Yahweh’s actions.
Ultimately, however, in reckoning with the violence in Joshua, we find ourselves entering the dark, foggy realm of God’s mysterious nature with little clear illumination. In the end, however dissatisfying the above discussion may strike readers, one does well to remember that God is on record as stating his preference for life and blessing over death and destruction (e.g., Ezek. 18:23; 33:11). To accept personally that preference as ancient and ongoing one need think no farther than the cross of Christ.
Who Owns the Land Today?
DOES THE BOOK OF JOSHUA explain who owns the land of Canaan today?82 Many readers might answer, “Yes, it shows that God gave the land to Israel, and that gift is still valid.” Some might also supplement evidence from Joshua by citing texts about Israel’s future from Old Testament prophets. This approach underlies the political support that Israel has traditionally enjoyed in North America, especially among evangelicals and fundamentalists.
In my view, however, two weaknesses undermine such an approach. (1) It fails to reckon adequately with the implications of an idea that most Christians accept—progressive revelation. Progressive revelation affirms that God has chosen to reveal his truth through Bible writers over time, and that means that later biblical books may modify the ideas of earlier ones. This is most obvious in moving from Old Testament to New Testament, where Christians believe, for example, that the death of Jesus ended the need to follow the Israelite sacrificial system.
(2) The second weakness of this approach is that it simply jumps from the Old Testament to today, entirely skipping the New Testament. It misses the modifications the New Testament may have made on the subject. The question is, Did the New Testament reaffirm God’s promise of land for Israel or in any way modify its understanding of it? In reply, the New Testament says little theologically about land compared to the Old Testament.83 It recalls past and present events that take place there (e.g., Matt. 2:20; Acts 7:3–5, 45; James 5:17), but to my knowledge only Hebrews 11:9 interprets it theologically (see below). The New Testament seems to concur with the Old Testament’s view: The land is theologically important, but Israel’s relationship to God transcended “that realm and was not permanently or exclusively bound to it.”84
For example, the father-son metaphor for Yahweh’s relationship with Israel (e.g., Ex. 4:22; Hos. 11:1) predates the Exodus and (by implication) the gift of land. It also anchors the later restoration when Israel is landless (i.e., in exile) and explains why Israel can still have a relationship with Yahweh without land.85 Further, Wright observes in later Israelite prophecy “a ‘loosening’ of—almost a dispensing with” the ancient connection of land with Israel’s relationship with God. He has in mind texts that anticipate the future inclusion of types of foreigners whose membership in Israel, if based upon the traditional family-land connection, would otherwise be uncertain or unclear.86
The New Testament also reflects this “loosening” in a telling way. The land-promise is noticeably absent in its interpretation of the Abrahamic promises. Paul reckons all believers in Jesus as descendants of Abraham regardless of their ethnic background (Gal. 3:7). He teaches that their faith fulfills the patriarchal theme of blessing to the nations (vv. 8, 9, 26; cf. Eph. 3:3). But Paul makes no mention of the patriarchal promise of land, presumably because it plays no role in that blessing.
The reference to Abraham in Hebrews 11 shows the land’s decreased importance even more clearly. It says that Abraham sojourned in Canaan to await, not settlement there, but “the [future] city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (vv. 9–10). He saw clearly that God’s plan “transcended security and prosperity in a parcel of real estate on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean.”87 In short, the New Testament accepts the land of Israel as the homeland of Jews, but its prime concern lies elsewhere—with Jewish and Gentile believers throughout the Roman world whose faith in Jesus fulfills the Abrahamic promise.
The New Testament interprets the Old Testament typologically. Since God’s way of working in history never changes, “NT persons consciously considered their experiences to match the patterns of God’s redemptive history that began with Israel.”88 They read the Old Testament through the lenses of promise-fulfillment: Old Testament events were “promise” and corresponding New Testament ones “fulfillment.” For example, Jesus not only fulfills Old Testament messianic expectations, but also embodies Israel at its God-pleasing best.89 He is the Savior of both Jews and non-Jews (Luke 2:30–32) and the temple—the place (or person) to offer prayers and to deal with sin (John 2:19–22). He is the good shepherd (10:11–16) who gathers all kinds of sheep into a new Israel.
Typology also underlies the foundational New Testament conviction that the church is the new Israel, the new community founded by the Messiah.90 Apostolic writers apply to early Christian congregations, with both Jewish and Gentile members, covenant concepts and terms previously associated with Israel (Gal. 6:16; 1 Peter 2:9–10). Churches are “the elect” (1 Thess. 1:4–5), the “redeemed” (Rom. 3:24; Eph. 1:7), and the “children of God” (Rom. 8:14; cf. Ex. 4:22). God’s covenant faithfulness reassures them of safety in the face of all dangers (Rom. 8:31–39) and will reward them with “an inheritance” for faithful service (Col. 3:23–24).
In short, the apostles teach that the church, a mixture of Jews and Gentiles, is the new Israel—the ultimate offspring of Abraham by faith. It is international in scope, and its temple is not a building in Jerusalem but a dispersed temple, the collective body of Christian believers—both Jews and Gentiles—spread throughout the world (1 Cor. 3:16–17; cf. Eph. 2:21). Wherever located, the physical body of every believer also comprises a temple where the Holy Spirit dwells (1 Cor. 6:19).91 The unexpected fall of the Holy Spirit on non-Jews after they believed in Jesus convinced the apostles to welcome them as fellow believers without joining Israel first (Acts 11:15–18; 15:7–11).
The New Testament also views the land typologically. The land continues in the church but not in a geographical sense (i.e., location is unimportant). To explain the Gentiles’ new status as Christians, Paul invokes two Old Testament motifs, sonship and inheritance (Eph. 2–3). Previously, the Gentiles were “excluded from citizenship and foreigners to the covenant,” but Christ tore down the “wall of hostility” between Jews and Gentiles to give those “excluded” access (Eph. 2:13–16).92 Now they are “fellow citizens with God’s people” rather than “foreigners and aliens” (2:19). In the Old Testament language of inheritance, Paul declares them “heirs together with Israel,” the two cosharing “the promise in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 3:6).93 What the prophets expected is now true: God’s people includes the Gentiles, God’s “son” entitled to their “inheritance” and full citizens of God’s new Israel (cf. 1 Peter 1:3–5). As Millar writes, “the inheritance in Christ is no doubt different from the land received and lost by Israel, but it is greater, not less, than that land.”94
Finally, what is Israel’s status today? This controversial matter requires careful, gentle discussion since the subtle, sinister specter of anti-Semitism always haunts such conversations. Paul provides the key scriptural exposition in Romans 9–11. First, by “Israel” Paul means neither the physical land, nor a political state, nor Jews as an ethnic group (Rom. 9:6–7). He has in mind the “children of promise” (v. 8)—the “remnant” (both Jews and Gentiles) who have received salvation by faith (vv. 23–27; 10:6–13).
Second, Paul denies that God has completely rejected Israel as a whole, rebutting the mistaken idea that God’s covenant with Israel has ended (11:1). Rather, Paul cites himself—an Israelite but also a believer in Jesus—as evidence that God has sovereignly preserved from Israel a “remnant chosen by grace” (11:1, 5). To explain the big picture, the apostle invokes an Old Testament metaphor for Israel, an olive tree (Hos. 14:6; Jer. 11:16). Because Israel rejected the gospel, God pruned them from the root tree as unsatisfactory branches (Rom. 11:17, 20), a sad fact with a happy outcome. It opened the way for Gentiles to be saved—i.e., to be grafted into the original root (vv. 12, 15, 17).
But Paul quickly trashes potential Gentile pretentions of spiritual superiority based on that grafting. In so doing, he strongly nips the basis for anti-Semitism in the bud (vv. 17–20). Israel was a fine, cultured olive tree—a high compliment—while the Gentiles are by nature “wild shoots”—not a compliment! His grafting of them into the superior root tree was “contrary to nature” (vv. 17, 24)—an unnatural mixing of cultured and wild. Gentile arrogance is utter nonsense since, without the superior root (Israel), the far inferior branch (Gentiles) would have no support at all (v. 18). If they nurse spiritual pride, the Gentiles also run the risk of being pruned by God as was Israel (v. 21).
But God has a future in mind for Israel—another one of his mysteries (v. 25). He will show Israel the same mercy as he has the Gentiles (vv. 31–32). In the end, Israel’s election, covenant, and patriarchal promises—all of them “irrevocable” (v. 29)—still count. God will mysteriously save “all Israel” (vv. 26–28), a reference neither to the church as a whole nor to every individual Jewish person alive at the time. The condition for this salvation is their faith in Jesus the Messiah.95 Now, the existence of the modern state of Israel might anticipate that fulfillment, but nothing is said here (or elsewhere in the New Testament, for that matter) about the involvement of a “nation” of Israel in it. In my view, the reference is to some future recognition among Jews of Jesus as Messiah without reference to a political state presiding over national boundaries.
In summary, the whole tenor of New Testament teaching points Christians away from a Holy-Land-based perspective toward an international one—from Jerusalem to the uttermost parts of the earth. Its concern is with Jews and Gentiles worldwide—and this would include Palestinians—and not simply with modern Israel, itself a secular state. In my view, the demands of the gospel support a just, even-handed approach toward the question of the land.96
THEMATIC THREADS WEAVE THE patchwork of sources behind the book of Joshua into the striking literary tapestry in our Bibles. This section surveys the most important of those threads.
Yahweh the Promise Keeper
FROM BEGINNING TO END, the book of Joshua identifies Yahweh’s commitment to fulfill his promises to Israel as the driving force behind its narratives. The primary promise is his gift of the land of Canaan, a promise that goes back to the patriarchs Abraham (Gen. 12:7; 15:18–21), Isaac (26:3–4), and Jacob (28:4; 35:12). Yahweh cites it twice during his commissioning of Joshua (Josh. 1:2, 6) and reviews its broad territorial extent (v. 4), signaling that the entire book concerns its fulfillment. In the last chapter, Yahweh reminds the people of the land-gift they now possess, highlighting its cities ready for occupancy and its soil ready for cultivation (24:13). The land promise theme echoes throughout the book (e.g., 1:11; 18:3); even the Canaanite Rahab and the crafty Gibeonites speak of it (2:9; 9:24). In fact, the prostitute’s comment excites the spies to believe that the promise is about to happen (2:24; cf. v. 14). It echoes in the evocative word “inheritance” (naḥalah), which debuts in an authorial comment bridging the conquest and land allocation narratives (11:23) and which thematically weaves the book’s two halves together (e.g., 12:7; 13:6–8; 14:1).
Promised long ago (Ex. 32:13; Deut. 12:10), inheritance implies permanent possession and family roots in soil to be passed down over generations in perpetuity. It assures the once-landless Israelites of two basics, a place to live and a steady food supply. The divine land-gift to Israel is what the land distribution narrative is all about (chs. 13–19)—and why that narrative ranks among the most important in the book. That explains the authorial caption that draws the curtain down on the settlement story: “So the LORD gave Israel all the land he had sworn to give their forefathers, and they took possession of it and settled there” (21:43; cf. 19:51).
Within the land theme also fall several special allotments of property within the book. Specific divine promises drive the land received by West Manasseh (17:4) and by the aged Caleb, the latter as the reward for his faithful service in the wilderness (14:6–15; 15:13–19). The Levites also receive from Yahweh a special, land-related provision. The book stresses that, unlike the other tribes, they are to receive no inheritance in Canaan (13:14, 33; 14:3; 18:17) because they are the one tribe set aside for Yahweh’s personal service. But once the other tribes settle, the Levites receive what Yahweh promised them—towns and pasturelands throughout Canaan (ch. 21).
Besides land, a second promise whose fulfillment the book of Joshua features is Yahweh’s promised gift of rest (nuaḥ hi.) for Israel. The roots of this theological idea lie in the phrase “to give rest from (one’s) enemies” (e.g., Deut. 12:10; 25:19; Josh. 21:44; 23:1). It describes the state of calm, quiet, peace, security, and safety that follows the end of war—the time when enemies, now vanquished, no longer threaten.
Joshua himself first voices this theme. He tells the eastern tribes that once the west-bank tribes receive Yahweh’s rest in owning land, they themselves may settle in rest in their lands along the Jordan’s east bank (Josh. 1:13, 15). Later, the author especially highlights two moments that finally usher in “rest from war” for Israel: the conquest of all of Canaan (11:23) and the defeat of the Anakites (14:15). It is that rest—the fears of sudden, hostile attacks swept away—that frees Israel to pursue land distribution and settlement without worry or continuing vigilance. Anyone who has lived through war or whose vulnerability to unexpected violence requires a life on constant alert can understand the huge relief the word “rest” connotes.
Further, a brief comment by the narrator that closes the land allocation story celebrates the wonder of Yahweh’s gift of rest (21:44). The rest permits the eastern tribes to return home and settle down (22:4) and sets the scene for Joshua’s farewell speech (23:1). Finally, the author emphatically states the outcome of the promise theme: at the end of the day, not one single promise remained undone; Yahweh has made them all come true (21:45).
Yahweh the Warrior
AN EARLY BIBLICAL POEM, the Song of the Sea, celebrates that “the LORD is a warrior; the LORD is his name” (Ex. 15:3). In several formulas, the book of Joshua sounds the same theme of Yahweh as a warrior who pursues Yahweh war. At key points the narrator invokes the phrase “the LORD fights/fought for Israel” to express wonder over Yahweh’s listening to Joshua at Gibeon (10:14) and to explain how outnumbered Israel trounced the five southern kings (10:42). Similar awe colors Joshua’s recollection of what Israel had seen Yahweh do since they first crossed the Jordan (23:3). Like the narrator, Joshua explains how a single Israelite soldier can rout a thousand enemy ones: it is because Yahweh fights for his people, just as he promised (23:10). The literary juxtaposition of the phrase twice in the report of the southern campaign (10:14, 42) implies that Yahweh the warrior provides the margin of victory in all the victories in between.
Further, before battles Yahweh typically calms Joshua or Israel (“do not be afraid”) and/or promises victory (“I have/will give [the enemy] into your hands”). This is true before Jericho (6:2; cf. v. 16), Ai II (8:1; cf. v. 7), Gibeon (10:8), and the northern campaign (11:6). Twice during the southern campaign, Joshua exhorts his officers along the same line and for the same reason (10:17, 25). Promises of victory, in turn, shape the language of retrospective summary reports of victory (10:12, 30, 32; 11:8; 24:8, 11). By the same token, bitter irony echoes in Joshua’s lament after Israel’s defeat at Ai I because it invokes the promise formula, with Israel as the enemy on the receiving end (“deliver us into the hands of the Amorite” [7:7]).
Two theological subthemes, Yahweh’s overwhelming power and his personal presence, undergird the theme of Yahweh as warrior. The book abounds with images of Yahweh’s unbelievable power. A simple, gilded, wooden box—the ark of Yahweh—overwhelms the waters of the Jordan (even at flood stage), stops their flow, and amazingly lets Israel cross on dry land (chs. 3–4). A simple seven-day ritual siege—six days of silent circling broken by trumpet blasts and a lusty war cry on the seventh—topples the walls of ancient Jericho (ch. 6). Divinely sent panic on the ground and hailstones from heaven pull off victory for Israel at Gibeon (10:10, 11).
At the same time, Yahweh’s warrior-might also empowers the clever ambush—on the surface, a purely human maneuver—that brings down Ai (ch. 8). It also drives the defeat of the northern alliance, including the metropolis of Hazor, again through the human stratagem of surprise (ch. 11). Yahweh’s overwhelming power backs up his repeated reassurance that no one will be able to put a stop to (or withstand) Israel’s advance (1:5; 10:8; 23:9; cf. 7:12–13). Indeed, Yahweh’s role in the conquest so outshines Israel’s that Yahweh can rightly claim in retrospect—in my paraphrase—that it all happened without Israel so much as lifting a finger (24:12).
As for the reality of Yahweh’s presence, that subtheme emerges both in Yahweh’s reassurances of being “with” Joshua (1:5, 9; 3:7) and in one comment by the narrator (6:27; cf. 1:17). The starring roles that the ark plays in the Jordan crossing, in Jericho’s fall, and in the covenant ceremony at Mount Ebal (chs. 3–4; ch. 6; 8:33) also symbolize Yahweh’s personal presence with Israel at key points. Theologically, the book everywhere assumes that Yahweh, Israel’s God, personally accompanies them from the Plains of Moab (ch. 1) to the closing scene at Shechem (ch. 24). Yahweh’s blunt, irritated riposte of Joshua’s accusatory lament over the disaster of Ai I displays an intense personal presence (7:6–15). The same passionate presence also marks the assembly at Shechem, the only time in Joshua that Israel hears Yahweh addressing them directly in the first person (24:1–13). On that occasion, Yahweh offers Israel irrefutable evidence of his presence—the sound of his voice.
The subtheme of divine presence also surfaces in Joshua’s surprise encounter with the commander of Yahweh’s army near Jericho (5:13–15). An eerie sense of wonder and mystery surrounds the scene because, though Joshua meets a visible “man,” the terminology implicitly identifies him as a member of Yahweh’s heavenly entourage.97 Elsewhere Yahweh’s army is invisible (e.g., 2 Kings 6:15–17), so the presence of the commander implies the presence of those unseen “hosts” ready to do battle at Jericho as Israel’s ally. Further, the commander’s order that Joshua remove his sandals because of holy ground obviously echoes the scene of Moses and the burning bush (Ex. 3:5). The parallel seems to imply the very presence of Yahweh himself, a presence that sanctifies (or sets aside) Jericho for Yahweh himself. The implied presence reassures Joshua that the victory there is certain.
In conclusion, modern readers may find the idea of Yahweh the warrior offensive, but in fact opponents of the gospel of Christ abound today and will continue to do so until defeated at Christ’s second coming. The absence of persecution among most readers today should not blind any thoughtful believer to the larger cosmic struggle playing itself out between now and the end of time.
Joshua the Successor
THE CONTINUITY BETWEEN MOSES and Joshua is an obvious concern of the book of Joshua. At stake is Israel’s confidence in Joshua’s leadership, a confidence that hinges on Yahweh’s presence with him. While commissioning Joshua, Yahweh himself first sounds this theme in his promise to be with Joshua just he was with Moses (1:5). The Transjordanian tribes, however, soon voice the theme as a wish (“may the LORD … be with you” [my italics]), perhaps a subtle glimpse of popular anxiety over the risky transition (1:17). Apparently, from the people’s perspective, whether Yahweh backs Joshua as he did Moses is no sure thing.
The ambiguities of the Rahab episode also perhaps stir doubts in some Israelites concerning Joshua’s spiritual and military leadership mettle. Yahweh seems to have them in mind when, on the day that Israel dramatically crosses the Jordan, he promises to “begin to exalt [Joshua] in the eyes of all Israel” (3:7). The miraculous stopping of the Jordan so persuades Israel that Yahweh is with Joshua that they “revere him all the days of his life, just as they had revered Moses” (4:14). The decisive defeat of Jericho further verifies Yahweh’s powerful presence with Joshua and even spreads Joshua’s fame throughout the land of Canaan (6:27).
In addition, the biblical writer has woven into the narrative life of Joshua echoes of episodes from the life of Moses. The following table summarizes these echoes:
These parallels both reinforce the sense that Joshua is the worthy successor of Moses and strongly suggest that Joshua is in fact Moses’ peer.98
But the book of Joshua also portrays Joshua as far more than a Mosaic clone. Granted, obedience to Moses’ commands guides many of his actions, as the narrator points out: “As the LORD commanded his servant Moses, so Moses commanded Joshua, and Joshua did it; he left nothing undone of all that the LORD commanded Moses” (11:15; cf. 4:10; 8:33, 35; 11:12; 17:4). Granted, also, that the Instruction of Moses plays a foundational, formative role throughout Joshua’s career (1:7, 8; 8:31, 32, 34; 23:6; 24:26). But authorial comments at key literary junctures also underscore that Joshua exceeds Moses in two crucial respects. (1) Only Joshua conquers all of Canaan, including its kings and population, as God commanded (10:40–43; 11:16–17, 23). That is no small accomplishment, notwithstanding Yahweh’s decisive role in Israel’s string of victories. (2) Further, only Joshua receives an inheritance in the land as a gift of the Israelites, the town of Timnath Serah in the hill country of Ephraim (19:49–50). Thus, unlike Moses, he resides in death among his clan and kin within the Promised Land, a reward that recognizes his long years of faithful service rendered for Yahweh and for Israel.99
In addition, two texts portray Joshua as creatively applying Moses’ instruction to Israel’s new situation in Canaan. At Mount Ebal (8:30–35), Joshua leads Israel in a special covenant ceremony by innovatively weaving together elements of Moses’ teaching to give the ritual its unique meaning for Joshua’s Israelite audience. Also, in dealing with the Gibeonites (ch. 9), in my view Joshua seems to base his actions on two Mosaic teachings: how to make treaties with foreign countries and how to treat aliens residing within Israel.100 In the end, the narrator affirms the Moses-like stature that Joshua achieves by posthumously awarding him the same prestigious title that Moses, “servant of the LORD” (24:29), bore. He also writes what amounts to Joshua’s epitaph—that “Israel served the LORD throughout the lifetime of Joshua” (24:31). What Yahweh began at the Jordan—the elevation of Joshua in Israel’s eyes—did indeed succeed remarkably.
The People of God
PREOCCUPATION WITH THE BOOK’S HEROES, Yahweh and Joshua, should not obscure the themes it echoes concerning the people of God. They form the all-important supporting cast in the drama of this book. They are the recipients and executers of the orders that Joshua gives from Israel’s campsite in the Plains of Moab to the book’s final assembly at Shechem. Two youths among them stumble upon and strike a deal with Rahab at Jericho (ch. 2), and Israelite feet feel the crunch of the Jordan’s dry riverbed during the crossing. Twelve of them carry stones from the bed that end up in Joshua’s monument to the crossing at Gilgal (ch. 3–4). It is Israelite males whom Joshua circumcises there, and the Israelites comprise the crowd celebrating the Passover (ch. 5).
The Israelites perform the week-long ritual conquest of Jericho and carry out the killing and burning that follows (ch. 6). One anonymous Israelite secretly cheats Yahweh out of ḥerem at Jericho, so all Israel shares in the shameful, unnerving defeat of Ai I. But they also share in the lot-casting that unmasks Achan, hurl the stones that effect his execution, realize the special triumph of Ai II, pile up the rocks over the grave of Ai’s executed king, and happily carry off Ai’s plunder and livestock. They witness Joshua’s altar-building on Mount Ebal and offer sacrifices on it, then listen below the mount as he reads them the Instruction from the summit (chs. 7–8).
Israelite leaders make a treaty with the crafty Hivites (ch. 9), and their troops rescue Gibeon and sweep the southern and northern areas of the country into Israel’s possession (chs. 10–12). They are the people who, obeying Moses, distribute the land among the tribes (14:5), each of their families receiving a land-gift from Yahweh (chs. 13–19; cf. 1:2). Some Israelites struggle with leftover Canaanites nearby (e.g., 16:10; 17:13), and one tribe (Dan) even has to relocate elsewhere in the land because of indigenous resistance (19:47). It is the Israelite people who set aside seven cities nationwide as cities where a killer may find refuge from avengers and have his case dispassionately adjudicated (ch. 20). It is the Israelites who sacrificially surrender their own towns and fields so the Levites may have places to live and pastures to herd their animals (ch. 21). They are the ones who settle the altar dispute (ch. 22), hear Joshua’s passionate farewell (ch. 23), and take upon themselves the covenant with Yahweh (ch. 24).
Several subthemes thread their way through the book. One subtheme concerns the very geography of the entity called “Israel.” The book stresses that Israel comprises people enjoying inheritances along both sides of the Jordan, not just on the west bank. The book occasionally seems to reflect a western bias, especially among some who regard the Jordan as a national boundary (e.g., chs. 14–17, 22), but for the most part it carefully includes the eastern tribes (e.g., 1:12–18; 4:12; 12:1–6; 13:8–33; 18:7; ch. 22).
Another subtheme speaks of the complex makeup of Israel. At first glance, Israel seems an uncomplicated, fairly homogenous people, but the book shows that the term “people of Israel” embraces a complex mix of “myriad elements.”101 The narrator occasionally passes before us a brief snapshot of the diversity of “all Israel”—e.g., “aliens and citizens alike, with their elders, officials and judges … the priests, who were Levites” and “women and children” (8:33, 35).
The book’s mind-numbing, detailed administrative chapters (chs. 13–21)—the ones that many readers may skip as they would a phonebook—in reality spread a metaphor for this multifaceted Israel. Countless tribal and clan groups make up the Israelites, strewn across every corner of the land. Many reside in major cities of well-known historical pedigrees, but most inhabit obscure, small towns or hamlets way off the beaten track and totally unknown elsewhere. Among the people live many non-Israelites like Rahab and her family, the Hivites centered around Gibeon, nameless resident aliens, as well as enclaves of surviving Canaanites. The boring details betray a challenge for Israel—“to translate those lists and allotments into an actual community in actual possession of the Promised Land.”102
But the most important theme pertaining to Israel concerns the absolute necessity for the Israelites to maintain their unique identity as God’s special people. Holiness is part of that identity, so circumcision sanctifies Israelite soldiers, making them fit for service in Yahweh war (ch. 5). Covenant ceremonies demand that Israel reaffirm its exclusive commitment to Yahweh alone as their God (8:30–35; 24:1–28)—indeed, a “holy” and “jealous” God (24:19).
But by far the strongest voice proclaiming this theme is that of Joshua himself. In his farewell speech (ch. 23), he passionately warns Israel to avoid too cozy relationships with their Canaanite neighbors. He discourages casual contacts and condemns intermarriage, strongly branding them as “snares and traps … whips on your backs and thorns in your eyes” (23:13). He forbids them to serve any other gods but Yahweh and threatens that a furious Yahweh will annihilate them if they abandon him and worship other gods (23:15–16). Their very identity is on the line, Joshua says, and he strings together phrases that sum up what Yahweh demands. Israel must “obey” Moses’ law (v. 6), “hold fast to the LORD” (v. 8), and “love” him (v. 11). In chapter 24 Joshua invokes as the key word the need to “serve the LORD” (24:14–16, 18, 19–22, 24).
In both chapters, Joshua lays it on the line in the strongest terms: Yahweh will assuredly bring on Israel “all the evil he has threatened” just as he surely has fulfilled his every “good promise” (23:15–16). In short, Israel is God’s people or it is no people. Its reason for existence is to serve Yahweh, and the logical outcome of failure to do so is total destruction.
Israel and the Peoples
IN THE DISCUSSION ABOVE concerning violence in Joshua, an important theme emerged that bears repetition in conclusion.103 We pointed out that despite the deadly shadow of ethnic cleansing that haunts the book, it also reflects a surprisingly inclusive stance toward non-Israelites. This theme first surfaces in two narrative motifs: the conciliatory treatment of Rahab and the Gibeonites, and the contrast between their nonresistance to Yahweh and Israel and the militant resistance of Canaan’s kings (cf. 11:18–20).
Above, following L. Stone, we suggested that the book promotes obedience to the Instruction of Moses as the basis for anyone, Israelite or non-Israelite, to remain in the land. Here I wish simply cite the contrasting fates of Rahab and Achan as a further example of that point. Rahab typifies the ultimate outsider—a Canaanite, female, prostitute on the ḥerem hit-list—while Achan typifies the ultimate insider—an Israelite, male, and from the prestigious tribe of Judah. Rahab survives and lives in Israel, while Achan dies and is remembered with shame. The difference is that Achan has violated the covenant (i.e., resisted Yahweh’s will), while Rahab humbly submits to Yahweh and his will. The implication is that openness and submission count for more than ethnicity.
But what about the book’s references to conflicts between Israel and Canaan’s peoples (e.g., 15:63; 16:10; 17:13)? Do they imply a serious failure by Israel to carry out ḥerem as Yahweh commanded? That is a possibility, but several observations suggest that the Israelite-Canaanite conflicts be read less critically. In my view, taken at face value, the biblical statements in question simply state the facts rather than voice criticism of the Israelites. Ideally, Israel is in violation of Deuteronomy 20, but the book of Joshua seems not to press the point. Instead, it appears simply to accept the Canaanite presence as a given to be worked around. Further, in his farewell speech Joshua notes that Yahweh himself will “drive out” the remaining Canaanites (23:5; cf. 13:6). Yahweh’s promise seems aimed genuinely to compensate for Israel’s weakness in the ethnic standoff rather than to demonstrate Israel’s lack of faith.
Even more to the point, Joshua’s main plea is that Israel must vigilantly guard against corrupting Canaanite influences rather than totally get rid of them. Indeed, it strikes me as particularly telling that Joshua passes up the opportunity to urge his audience finally to complete the conquest by implementing ḥerem as Yahweh intended. In short, these observations seem of a piece with the more inclusive stance toward non-Israelites that Rahab and the Gibeonites reflect. To be sure, the Canaanites pose a deadly danger to Israel’s loyalty to Yahweh, and Yahweh holds Israel accountable to its covenant commitment. But the book of Joshua seems to leave the final solution to Yahweh—and perhaps also to leave the door open to other Rahabs and Gibeonites from among the Canaanite enclaves who might choose submission over resistance.