Joshua 8:30–35

Original Meaning

The Altar-building and Sacrifices (8:30–31)

THE OPENING REPORT IS straightforward: About the time that Ai fell, “Joshua built on Mount Ebal an altar to the LORD, the God of Israel” (v. 30).13 At first glance, however, the remark seems abrupt and out-of-the-blue. Instantly and without explanation, it transports readers to Mount Ebal, the large mountain just north of Shechem in the central hill country.14 Many scholars assume that Israel returned to their base camp at Gilgal after the victory at Ai (cf. Josh. 9:6). If so, the present text assumes that Israel made a possibly risky thirty-mile trek northwest from the Jordan Valley to reach Mount Ebal. But the context more likely assumes that Israel has proceeded there directly from Ai (ca. 23 mi.) along the main north-south highway nearby.15

The defeat of Ai (and possibly Bethel) would have made the road safer, especially if royal resistance to Israel (9:1–2) had not yet jelled. The central hill country was sparsely inhabited at the time, so the only military risk would at best be limited to the area around Shechem, an ancient regional power.16 But Joshua 8 may assume that through circumstances unknown to us, Shechem was already safely in Israelite hands (cf. Josh. 17:2, 7; Judg. 9). Later, Shechem will host the book’s final covenant renewal ceremony (Josh. 24:1, 25).

The altar building carries out Moses’ commands, especially the stipulation that only large, uncut fieldstones be used (Josh. 8:30–31; cf. Deut. 11:26–32; 27:1–26).17 The people immediately offer on it the “burnt offerings” and “fellowship offerings” that Moses commanded (Deut. 27:6, 7; cf. Ex. 24:5). The purpose for the prohibition of reworked stones is uncertain. In my view, if the physical alteration of the stones transmits defilement (likely), the preference for unaltered ones serves to preserve the holiness of space set aside for God.18

A wordplay in 8:31 seems to underscore the point: Only “uncut [šelemot] stones” make an altar suitable for “fellowship offerings” (šelamim). The “fellowship offering” burns only parts of the animal, leaving the rest to be eaten by worshipers in a communal meal (Lev. 3:1–17; 7:11–12).19 It is an occasion to “rejoice in the presence of the LORD your God” (Deut. 27:7)—a simple, happy scene, with God and his people sharing a joyful, friendly fellowship meal.

In a “burnt offering,” a wood fire on the altar completely consumes the animal, sending “a pleasing aroma” skyward to Yahweh (Ex. 29:18; Lev. 1:9, 13, 17). It usually functions as a prelude either to other offerings or (more commonly) to the presentation of petitions. But what purpose does the pair of offerings serve here? Elsewhere, they describe an act of worship in Yahweh’s honor (see Num. 10:10; chs. 28–29; Judg. 20:26; 21:4; 1 Sam. 10:8). So, “burnt offerings and … fellowship offerings” may simply state generally that Israel worships Yahweh through appropriate rituals.20

It is striking, however, that the wording in Joshua 8:31 echoes language in the covenant-making ceremony at Mount Sinai (Ex. 24:5). Since the offerings mark the people’s only direct action here, their actions probably signal their recommitment to the covenant. But consider also the great symbolic significance of building an altar on Mount Ebal in the very heart of Canaan. The elevation of Mount Ebal (2,867 feet) offers a commanding view of virtually all of Canaan except the Negev.21 Mounts Ebal and Gerizim flank the strategic east-west pass that connects Shechem in both directions. Whoever controls the pass at Mount Ebal controls the north-central hill country from just north of Jerusalem to just south of the Valley of Jezreel.22

More important, Shechem also has ties to Israel’s patriarchs. Both Abraham and Jacob built altars there when they, too, entered Canaan (Gen. 12:7; 33:20). Patriarchal altar-building underscores the connection between entering the land, the promise of land, and the true worship of Yahweh. As Noort observes, “The altars are fixed points in the theological geography of the land. They claim the land for YHWH, his chosen one and his descendants.”23

The altar raised by Joshua on Mount Ebal probably stakes a similar claim for the present generation. This may explain why Joshua 8 gives primacy to the altar construction (Josh. 8:30 vs. Deut. 27:5–6) rather than to the writing of the law on plastered stones (Josh. 8:32 vs. Deut. 27:1–4). The reordering makes the altar a powerful symbol of Israel’s land claim on Canaan, signals the end of Israel’s old nomadic society, and inaugurates a new one in Israel’s new land.24

Archaeology attests the presence atop Mount Ebal of a massive rectangular structure reached by a ramp, but whether it relates to Joshua’s altar (or is even an altar at all) remains a matter of dispute.25 But archaeological evidence does suggest that, whatever its precise nature, the site was probably a major cultic one.26 For example, the four corners of the main structure there point precisely to the four points of the compass. Further, the amount of burned animal bones found exceeds what one would expect at an ordinary small settlement. Some of the ceramic ware also compares to vessels known elsewhere to serve cultic functions.

The Writing of the Law (8:32–33)

Bridging Contexts

COVENANT AND COVENANT RENEWAL. The idea of covenant renewal may strike some readers as strange. In modern thinking, a commitment is a commitment; one either does or does not keep it. Some may even recoil at the term “renewal,” since the word most commonly applies to newspaper and magazine subscriptions or club memberships. They reject the implication that Christian commitment compares to a subscription. To them it sounds ridiculous (if not impossible) that someone might actually decide some December 31 not to be a Christian in the new year. In short, the Christian experience of many readers may create a disconnect between themselves and Joshua 8 concerning the concept of covenant renewal. It is striking, however, that moments of renewal are typical of Israel’s religious life. One theme of contemporary meaning, therefore, concerns the blessings that flow from the practice of periodic renewal.

We should recall that two other moments of covenant renewal occur in the book of Joshua. The first is the circumcision ceremony at Gilgal in which Joshua circumcised all Israelite males of military age (5:2–9). Militarily, the move makes little sense since it disables the soldiers. But along with physical fitness, they needed ritual fitness both for the holy war ahead and for later settlement in Yahweh’s holy land. Submission to the painful ceremony signals the younger generation’s commitment to the covenant, and Yahweh confirms their full membership in it by declaring their “shame” gone (see comments on ch. 5).

The second renewal moment in the book (24:1–28) more closely echoes Joshua 8.39 Joshua convenes an all-Israelite ceremony at Shechem (see comments on ch. 24). The generation circumcised at Gilgal will soon confront a major change, life without Joshua. As his death approaches, he will urge them to renew their commitment to Yahweh and the covenant in the post-Joshua period. He demands that they choose which God they will serve in the future (Josh. 24:14–15). In short, the dawn of a new day confronts Israel with a fork in the road and a choice for or against Yahweh.

What makes such renewals advisable? The reason is that life is full of changes, and those changes alter the context of one’s commitment. One may come to faith as a child, but childhood soon yields to the independence and challenges of adulthood. Education, job, family, and longer life experience all require new choices. Each stage tests the adequacy and relevance of that childhood faith, and each such test in essence demands a new choice.

Life also has its own natural rhythms or phases. Chronological rhythms—the day, week, month, and year—are easily measured by calendars and universally shared by the culture. At age eighteen one achieves legal emancipation—the legal landmark of adulthood. But life also has unmarked “stages”—phases experienced in the moment as common among humans. Not everyone experiences every stage, and stages differ in the length and sequence experienced. The perspective of young adulthood certainly differs from those of middle and old age. The eyes of youth focus forward on the future, the eyes of middle age both forward for planning and backward for perspective, and those of old age primarily backward.

In each stage, the influences on our decision making also change. The Joshuas of early life (family, Sunday school teachers, youth pastors, etc.) soon give way to the opinions of peers. Adult independence allows us to choose which authorities to believe and which leaders to follow. Each stage challenges one’s faith in unique ways and, as noted above, forces the question, “Is Jesus still Lord here and now?”

Now, I hasten to add that the above discussion presumes a modern view of individualism—a worldview that shapes and guides the way most of us think. That perspective, however, differs radically from the corporate worldview of both the covenant and the gospel. Thus, understanding the covenant will further aid our understanding of the benefits of practices of renewal.

The term “covenant” (Heb. berit) designates the kind of relationship that binds Yahweh and Israel. This Hebrew word basically means “imposition, liability, obligation.”40 In biblical usage, it appears synonymously with words like “law” and “commandment” (e.g., Deut. 4:13; Isa. 24:5; Ps. 50:16; 103:18). Its usage excludes any idea that the relationship between Yahweh and Israel is in any way a mutual one. The covenant does not presuppose that Yahweh and Israel are peers who have entered their relationship on equal footing. Rather, Yahweh’s role is that of the master or suzerain, who rightfully imposes the terms of the agreement on his subordinate or vassal (cf. Josh. 9:26; 1 Sam. 11:1–2).41

The so-called “covenant formulary” and its variations summarize their relationship: “I will be your God, and you shall be my people” (Ex. 6:7; Deut. 29:13; Jer. 7:23; Ezek. 36:28). The terms “God” and “people” reflect the roles, respectively, of sovereignty and subordination inherent in their relationship. Typically, to confirm a covenant requires that the latter take an oath that imposes terrible consequences for any violations (Deut. 29:10–13[9–12]; Josh. 9:15–20; 2 Kings 11:4). The oath comprises a conditional curse—for example, “May such-and-such happen to me if I break this obligation.” It confirms that the subordinate will truly comply with the terms of the agreement. The underlying theory is that only someone willing to abide by them would voluntarily take a curse upon himself. In the covenant between Yahweh and Israel, the Instruction of Moses constitutes the terms of the agreement.

Important illumination on the form and content of the covenant comes from ancient Near Eastern treaties, especially those of the Hittites in Anatolia (fourteenth and thirteenth cent. B.C.).42 The structural elements of Hittite treaties have striking analogies in biblical texts about the covenant (e.g., Ex. 19–24 and Deuteronomy).43 Hittite treaties open with a historical introduction in which the suzerain reviews the history of his relationship with the vassal. He surveys promises made by his royal predecessors, gifts of land in the past, and their present borders. Treaties also list the stipulations—the suzerain’s promises and the “do’s and don’ts” expected of the vassal—and call on gods to witness the transaction. Blessings and curses for keeping or breaching the treaty follow. Finally, the treaty provides for its contents to be read periodically to the public and for its documents to be stored.

As for content, the vocabulary of treaties also has biblical analogies. Treaties invoke “love” as a metaphor for the loyalty of vassals to the suzerain. Phrases like “hearken to the voice of,” “go after,” “serve,” “fear,” and “not turn to the right hand or the left” figure prominently.44 This vocabulary has obvious echoes in Deuteronomy, including the repeated appeals to “love the LORD” (Deut. 11:1; 19:9; cf. Josh. 22:5; 23:11) and to “serve” and “fear” him (Deut. 6:13; 10:20; cf. Josh. 24:14).

As for structure, no single Old Testament covenant text completely matches the format of ancient treaties, but they do share several important elements. Exodus 19 and Deuteronomy 1–11 function as historical prologues to the stipulations (i.e., the laws) that follow (Ex. 20:1–23:19; Deut. 12–26). Deuteronomy also summons “heaven and earth” as witnesses to the covenant (Deut. 4:26; 30:19; 31:25–26) and mandates the deposit of the Book of the Law in the ark of the covenant (10:1–5; 31:25–26). As in Hittite treaties, Deuteronomy commands that the law be read publicly (31:9–13) and orders the king to read it (17:18–19). Similarly, Deuteronomy includes a long section of blessings and curses (27:15–26; ch. 28), a section that Joshua 8:34 apparently mentions.

One final point needs making about the covenant. The covenant formulary defines the agreement as between God and “his people.” Since “people” is a single collective noun (Heb. ʿam), the entity it describes is the corporate body of Israel. That is, it presents Israel as a single whole, not a collection of individuals. Granted, individuals participate in the covenant and are responsible individually to obey its demands, but the Bible understands Israel to be a single, corporate entity. Further, it understands that corporateness to extend across generations. Notice something Moses says: “I am making this covenant, with its oath, not only with you who are standing here with us today in the presence of the LORD our God but also with those who are not here today” (Deut. 29:14–15, my italics).

“Those not here today” refers to future generations of Israelites. Though not present the day Moses made the covenant in the plains of Moab, they are parties to it, too. A similar corporate understanding underlies Paul’s statement that “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph. 5:25). Though individuals can receive salvation, Jesus did not die for individual “Christians” but for “the church” as a corporate body. Jesus presupposes this, too, in his prayer for the disciples: “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one” (John 17:20–21). In the future, people will become believers in Jesus. By faith they will join “the church” and become part of the new covenant. So Jesus prays that they may all be “one”—that they will function as the collective “people” they are.

This corporate understanding of the people of God helps explain the importance of covenant renewal. Once inaugurated, both the old and new covenants remain in force across the centuries. Through circumcision, newborn Israelites become members of the old covenant, and through baptism newly born-again Christians become members of the new covenant. But for the covenants to work, each new generation of the collective Israel or the church must truly understand its terms for their day. They must also, so to speak, agree to keep its terms in their own lives just as past generations did.

Further, in so doing, they affirm the transgenerational nature of the body of which they are a part. They celebrate their membership in a larger corporate body—that they received the faith from spiritual ancestors and pass it on to descendants. Those past and future connections motivate each generation to renew its commitment to the faith. They embrace their responsibility to ensure its safe passage into the future.

Blessings (and curses). Finally, earlier I indicated that the focus of the ceremony at the end of Joshua 8 falls on blessing. Theologically, the narrative portrays the power of God’s blessing flowing from the words of the Instruction over the people hearing them. The idea of blessings and curses, thus, merit brief additional clarification.45

In the ancient world, one typically uttered a curse in response to gross violations of the basic ethical norms of one’s clan, religious community, or people. The curse aimed to destroy the solidarity previously enjoyed with them by the violator or to undermine his or her ability to resist powerful enemies. The blessing intended the opposite—to strengthen an individual’s solidarity with individuals or groups in two directions. The solidarity might concern persons with whom close social, ethnic, and religious relationships existed or were sought. Or, it could concern persons to whom the individual wished to express special thanks or appreciation.

Now, the ancient world highly regarded magic—the belief that to utter solemn words released the power to make the utterance a reality almost automatically. By contrast, in the Old Testament spoken words (curses and blessings) possess no such inherent power. They are subordinate to the sovereignty of God and take effect only because he empowers the words. So, Israelites utter only blessings that Yahweh alone can bring to reality, and the speaker must be in personal fellowship with God. Otherwise, the blessing will not achieve the strengthening of solidarity sought.

The subordination of spoken words to God’s authority and power also means that blessings and curses are revocable—that blessings may become curses and vice versa. The case of the seer Balaam is a case in point (Num. 22–24). His sponsor, King Balak of Moab, hired him to curse Israel, at the time camped within his territory and (in his view) posing a threat. Several times and in several places Balak pressed Balaam to curse Israel, but each request required Yahweh’s approval. Each time Yahweh replied that Balaam could say only what Yahweh wanted—to bless Israel. Toward the end of the narrative, Balaam explained to Balak, “I have received a command to bless; he [Yahweh] has blessed, and I cannot change it” (Num. 23:20). In all, Balaam pronounced four oracles of blessing on Israel just as Yahweh commanded, much to Balak’s unhappiness!

Suppose a speaker utters a blessing in appropriate words and with an aim that pleases God. In that case, the spoken words release a power—Yahweh’s power—to bring “happiness, prosperity, respect, fertility, etc., to the person being blessed.”46 In short, Israel regarded words and power as inseparably related—the vehicle of Yahweh’s beneficent powers. This understanding also undergirds the Old Testament view of the power of the word of God. Recall the well-known claim from the book of Isaiah:

As the rain and the snow

come down from heaven,

and do not return to it

without watering the earth

and making it bud and flourish,

so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:

It will not return to me empty,

but will accomplish what I desire

and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. (Isa. 55:10–11)

The prophet compares the power of the word of God to the effects of rain and snow. Rather than simply evaporate immediately heavenward, rain and melted snow always water the earth first. The moisture empowers the earth to produce seeds for sowing future crops and grains to be eaten as bread. When spoken, God’s word also always achieves God’s purposes; it never returns to him without doing so (“empty”). This background suggests that the very reading of the Instruction by Joshua actually does something to the Israelites below. It sows among them seeds of divine blessing destined to flourish, unless, of course, their disobedience causes Yahweh to substitute curses for blessing.

In conclusion, it is worth noting how tangible and practical are the blessings of Deuteronomy 28. They apply to all kinds of places—the city and the country and everything in between (v. 3)—and life’s routine entrances and exits (v. 6). They concern the gamut of human concerns for fertility: new children, crops, and livestock (v. 4). In the ancient world, crops and livestock marked a family’s basic livelihood, and besides simple joy children also augmented the labor force needed to sustain it. The blessings concern a family’s having daily fruit and bread (v. 5) and its success in the many tasks required by agricultural life (v. 8). They thwart the disasters with which enemy invasions threaten families (v. 7).

Two major campaigns await Israel (Josh. 10–11), so the blessing of enemies being defeated would certainly ease the fears of soldiers in Joshua’s audience. For the most part, however, the blessings look beyond the battles to the coming “abundant prosperity … in the fruit of your womb, the young of your livestock and the crops of your ground” (v. 11). That prosperity depends on the generosity of the rain showers God sends (v. 12). Through blessings, Yahweh makes Israel “the head, not the tail”—that is, he keeps Israel “always … at the top, never at the bottom” (v. 13).

As Israel listens in the valley below Mount Ebal, the practical benefits of God’s powerful blessings resonate deeply throughout the audience. Rather than sending magical powers, the reading of God’s words releases his power to empower Israel for the future—for the imminent battles and the later settlement ahead.

Contemporary Significance

THE BLESSING OF RENEWAL. Joshua 8:30–35 features a dramatic moment of covenant renewal in which Israel receives Yahweh’s blessing afresh. The ceremony welcomes the Instruction to the Promised Land and empowers Israel for the days ahead. This ceremony suggests that similar moments of renewal might likewise benefit Christians today.

To a certain extent, congregations that follow the liturgical church year already incorporate renewal in their worship life. But the practice has happily also found a home in more low-church congregations like mine. During Advent, the advent wreath symbolizes the weeks of anticipation before Christmas Day. Each Sunday, members or families read Scriptures and light a new candle. During the week, some families also read Scripture and light candles on wreaths at home (we did when our sons were young). The tradition prepares the congregation to welcome the Christ child anew into their lives and homes. It extends the reach of Christmas from an “eve” and a single “day” to a four-week “season” of Sundays. It keeps at bay the pressing commercial preoccupation of the larger culture and keeps our observance of Christmas genuinely Christian. It fosters an attitude of expectant waiting and excited anticipation. It marks one good way that churches annually renew their commitment to Jesus as the Christ.

This starkly contrasts with my experience of Easter growing up in a low-church congregation. Easter celebrates the final, climatic week of Jesus’ redemptive ministry on earth. Theologically, it marks the central turning point of human history, the opening of unimaginable, radically new possibilities for humanity. Victory over sin, and victory over death—what could be more important? But my memories are that Easter always seemed to arrive out of the blue. All of a sudden it was Palm Sunday, and then Holy Week began in earnest without much anticipation.

Granted, as kids my sisters and I often got new clothes, which we proudly wore Easter Sunday. And we always had a big meal that day. But, unlike Christmas, no long “season” preceded it. I only knew Easter was coming when the choir started rehearsing for the annual cantata. (And I only knew that because my mother was the organist!) Of course, with liturgical traditions the forty-day season of Lent offers a season of preparation and anticipation. And, for a time, some low-church congregations adopted a kind of “evangelical Lent”—special programs such as the “Fifty-Day Spiritual Adventure” that led up to Easter. But, recently such programs seem less tied thematically to Easter and may be scheduled at other times.47

My point is not to criticize such programs—they offer churches useful resources that do much good. My concern is twofold. (1) I rue the absence in many congregations of a moment set aside periodically for corporate renewal of their commitment to Christ. Many married couples today renew their covenant with each other by repeating wedding vows at milestone anniversaries. But when do church bodies as a whole renew their commitment to the new covenant as Israel did to the old?

(2) I rue the lack of a meaningful action to symbolize that renewal, one that Christians of different faith traditions share in common. Communion services certainly mark times for sober reflection and the renewal of our commitment to the new covenant that Jesus initiated on the cross. They also invoke the emotionally powerful symbols of broken bread and poured-out wine. But I have in mind something done annually rather than weekly or monthly—more like an anniversary or commemorative holiday.

Along that line, the Advent season offers a likely moment, but I myself prefer to leave the themes of wonder, expectancy, and welcome as is. Easter offers another candidate, but I myself prefer to leave it as the joyous victory celebration it traditionally is. I picture covenant renewal as a sober, solemn moment with a feeling—positive and hopeful, to be sure—of “signing one’s life away.” The traditional Watch Night Service held on New Year’s Eve probably offers the best occasion. The timing and setting are appropriate. Our culture promotes the making of New Year’s resolutions as the old year runs out. They also occur at night, and the darkness outside sets a tone for serious reflection and resolve. The trick is how to Christianize the celebration.

A short scene in Mrs. Miniver by novelist Jan Struther contributes an important insight here. The Minivers are a middle-class British family struggling to survive the darks days of World War II. One episode finds Mrs. Miniver and her husband, Clem, on a car trip to Scotland, a drive they had made every year for fifteen years. The passing of familiar places triggers “little memory-flags with which, on their minds’ map, the road was studded.” Some spots are places where earlier cars had unhelpfully broken down and stranded them temporarily. Other locales recall pleasant picnics in past years, and one in particular calls up memories of the beautiful double rainbow they had seen. Their present journey brings them to a summit where, as is their custom, they stop to stretch and enjoy the wide expanse of majestic countryside below. Refreshed, she and Clem resume their journey northward down the long descent from the summit. As she drives, Mrs. Miniver muses about the importance of memories:

In the convex driving mirror she could see, dwindling rapidly, the patch of road where they had stood; and she wondered why it had never occurred to her before that you cannot successfully navigate the future unless you keep always framed beside it a small clear image of the past.48

Israel would agree with Mrs. Miniver. Israel’s renewal celebration always begins with a look backward at the past. They review the great things God has done for them during their history—the call of Abraham, the Exodus, and the gift of Canaan (cf. Josh. 24:2–13). Implicitly, this review celebrates the goodness of God and gives grateful thanks for it. It explains from where and how far has been the journey to the present. The review also leads to a call to renewal in the present (24:14–15). The call compels Israel to take stock of the lessons of its history. Were they good days or bad days? Did Yahweh in any way fail, or did our ancestors fail him? And where does the present generation stand with him? Has it perpetuated the past failures or broken with them? And what about the future? Is today’s generation ready to reembrace Yahweh and recommit to their covenant with him? Is that recommitment rooted only in self-interest—not to lose Yahweh’s generosity—or genuine love for him? No movement into the future can succeed without shamefaced confession of past sins and rebellions.

Further, Israel answers the call with a solemn reaffirmation to abide by the covenant’s terms. In Joshua 24, the reaffirmation takes the form of a long liturgy in which Israel renounces all connections with other gods (vv. 16–24). The back-and-forth dialogue between Joshua and the people ritually acts out Israel’s firm resolve. Finally, the ceremony ends with Joshua writing down some rules, making a record of the transaction, and erecting a stone witness to it (vv. 25–27). This stage formally makes the covenant official and records it for posterity. The records may become the subject of public readings during future renewal ceremonies. It also involves a symbolic representation of the event, the stone witness. In short, the pattern of Israel suggests the following phases to any covenant renewal ceremony: a review of the past, a call to renewal, confession of sin, a solemn reaffirmation for the future, and a record of the event, and a symbol that it occurred.

I propose, however, that congregations consider an alternate form of contemporary covenant renewal, a baptism renewal ceremony. By this I mean a special ceremony that enables previously baptized Christians symbolically to reaffirm their earlier baptismal commitment. This makes good theological sense since baptism marks the symbolic event through which people today commonly enter the Christian faith. In the practice of infant baptism, committed Christian parents present their child for inclusion in the community of faith. A decade or so later, the baptized child completes confirmation, a special process of education that culminates in the child’s personal affirmation of her or his own faith in Jesus Christ.

Now, I am aware that some denominations celebrate a form of baptismal renewal. In some churches such celebrations occur annually on the Sunday in January that remembers the baptism of Jesus. But I believe the practice worthy of wider observance, since otherwise the only reminder of one’s baptism is the witness of new ones.49

By contrast, my impression is that churches practicing believer’s baptism—the Christian “tribe” in which I grew up—rarely if ever offer such occasions. Their worship life includes no symbolic way for already baptized members to connect with their own baptism in the past. But my proposal is that whatever a church’s form of baptism, it include some occasion for renewal of baptismal commitment.

For example, my home church recently celebrated several baptisms. When the baptismal service ended, the pastor invited worshipers to come forward to the portable baptismal pool. The invitation was to pause there a moment to remember their own baptism. People were encouraged even to dip their hands in the water as a tangible connection with that past experience. It was a meaningful, moving moment of worship and renewal. With infant baptisms, the font can serve as the site for baptismal remembrance and renewal. Churches can decide how and when to offer such ceremonies. Churches that have several baptisms each month may prefer a monthly or yearly observance. The incorporation of baptisms and baptism reconnection in an annual Watch Night Service is another possibility. Churches that practice immersion baptisms in pools recessed behind the choir loft may need to provide a small, symbolic pool accessible to worshipers. Whatever the case, I suggest a baptism renewal or remembrance as one way to renew our commitment to Christ today. It offers another way to apply the themes of Joshua 8 to Christian life now.

Word incarnate: God with us. A moment of special drama in Joshua 8 is the reading of the Instruction. The words of God echo down from Mount Ebal and imbue the people below with divine blessing. That scene reminds readers that God’s word is powerful, a theme as relevant today as it was then.

A mountaintop scene much later in Israel’s history offers a good vantage point from which to view this theme. There a later Joshua named Jesus stands with his three key disciples, Peter, James, and John.50 Suddenly, something strange happens before their eyes: Jesus is “transfigured” (Gk. metamorphoomai, “to be changed in appearance”). His face “shone like the sun” (Matt. 17:2) and his clothes became “dazzling white, whiter than anyone … could bleach them” (Mark 9:3). The imagery recalls the radiant appearance of Moses when he descended from Mount Sinai after forty days and nights of talking with Yahweh (Ex. 34:29–30).51 Immediately, Moses and Elijah—representatives, respectively, of the Old Testament law and prophets—join the scene. The three discuss Jesus’ imminent “departure” (Gk. exodos) to fulfill his mission in Jerusalem (Luke 9:31), a reference to his coming death, resurrection, and ascension.52 An excited Peter proposes the erection of three temporary shelters, one each for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah (Matt. 17:4; Mark 9:5). But a bright cloud suddenly envelops them and God speaks from it: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!” (Mark 9:7). The next instant, the disciples look, and the only person present is Jesus (Matt. 17:8; Mark 9:8).

In short, God has sent a new Moses for us to listen to and demands that we do so. What the Instruction of Moses was to Israel, the Instruction of Jesus, the new Moses, is to us. He is the mediator par excellence of God’s Word—the one to listen to now as someone to whom Moses, Elijah, and Joshua are subordinate. As the writer of Hebrews says, “In the past God spoke … through the prophets … but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son” (Heb. 1:1–2). “These last days” identifies him as the latest of God’s spokespersons, and “last days” may also locate him in history’s closing eschatological age.

More important, unlike the prophets, who were human, this is God’s “Son.” He wears human flesh as they did, but only he is God living right here among humans (see John 1:14; 1 John 1:1). He is “the Word” incarnate. Consider what an improved means of divine revelation the term “Son” implies. Moses, Elijah, and Joshua were certainly God’s servants. When Joshua read the Instruction from Mount Ebal, Israel listened seriously to it as God’s word because of Joshua’s status. But the access a “son” has to a “father” far surpasses that of any servant. On Mount Sinai Moses spent more time talking directly with God than any human in history. But God’s own Son—he knows the Father like no one else!

A popular story reports the bedtime scene in a child’s bedroom. Susie has prayed her usual prayer (“Now I lay me down to sleep …”), and her mother is tucking her in for the night. Though solemn and sincere, the prayer has not allayed Susie’s deathly fear of the dark. She pleads with her mother to stay with her until she falls asleep. But her mother kisses Susie goodnight, turns off the light, and pauses at the door for a final word.

“There’s no reason to be afraid, Susie,” she says. “Remember: God is right here with you.”

Susie ponders that thought a moment, then from the dark says, “But I want somebody with skin.”

Jesus is God “with skin” speaking to us. It is an obvious point, but one worth making: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!” Many voices beckon for our ear every day. People on the street ask to explain their legislative petitions and get our signature. Clever, carefully crafted media commercials entice us to buy Brand X. Media entertainers seek to hold our attention to expose us to all those commercials! Meetings at work discuss all manner of important matters, as do the many phone calls one makes and receives daily. The world, it seems, everywhere echoes an incessant “Blah, blah, blah, blah.…” But we must not let the surrounding din drown out Jesus’ voice in our ears. We must hear him! So, let us meditate carefully on Scripture to hear the quiet sounds of his voice. Let us spend time in quiet prayer listening for the gentle whisper of his voice. Let us keep ever before us the question: What is Jesus saying to me? Above all, hear him!

Written Word and Spirit: blessing with us. Jesus has left his Instruction in written form just as Joshua 8 reports that Moses did. Its reading by Joshua released God’s power of blessing on his Israelite audience. The New Testament also understands the Word of God to be powerful, and it captures that power in a single metaphor—the sword. Thus, Joshua 8 points us forward through that canonical stopping point en route to today. Consider these two familiar texts:

Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. (Eph. 6:17, my italics)

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. (Heb. 4:12, my italics)

These two texts prompt several observations. (1) The “word of God” as “the sword of the Spirit” occurs in Paul’s portrait of the ideal Christian soldier fully outfitted for combat (Eph. 6:10–20). That person obeys Paul’s exhortation to “be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power” (v. 10). The command compares to the exhortations given Joshua by Moses, Yahweh, and the Transjordanian tribes (Deut. 31:7, 23; Josh. 1:6, 7, 9, 18). The prospect of imminent and protracted warfare stands behind all these exhortations. Joshua faced actual physical combat, but Paul’s exhortations assume ongoing spiritual combat between God and his opponents (e.g., “the devil’s schemes” [Eph. 6:11–12]). The implication is that without God’s power, Christians risk being overpowered and defeated. They engage in a life-and-death struggle of eternal consequences for people. Tapping God’s might, however, makes survival, if not victory, certain.

(2) This soldier belongs to the infantry, not the artillery (ancient armies had both). The latter fire objects from a safe distance, but the former always face close, hand-to-hand, deathly sword play. The metaphor reminds Christians that most spiritual battles involve personal, face-to-face encounters with people battling to keep God away. In hand the Christian wields the “word of God” visualized by Paul as “the sword of the Spirit.” The metaphor compares God’s word to a sword wielded by no less than the Holy Spirit himself. Notice that this marks the only offensive weapon in the Christian’s armor—everything else is defensive, designed to protect the soldier.

A video clip of spiritual warfare might show a human quoting or reading words of Scripture aloud, but unseen are the Spirit’s expert hands pressing those words home like a sword. The spoken words of God, so to speak, “take on” the enemies and engage them. Notice also that the sword brings impressive firepower. It is “living and active” and incredibly sharp (“sharper than a two-edged sword”). It passes right through defenses—shields, armor, and skin and bones—as if they were paper. Nothing can stop it from getting inside someone and sticking. Like a modern surgical scalpel, it opens up even the most hidden, secret places—one’s whole inner self (“soul and spirit,” “joints and marrow”). It can even render judgment on one’s inner thoughts and intentions. In the Spirit’s hands, it forms an incredible weapon for getting to people!

Several implications for today flow from this truth. (1) It reminds us that all Christians are soldiers in a grand cosmic struggle between God and the forces of evil.53 None of us is, in military terms, “in the rear” (and safe)—we are all on the front lines. Now, frontal attacks may be infrequent, but the struggle goes on behind the scenes and beneath the surface. This truth about cosmic struggle should dispel any illusions that “all is [spiritually] right with the world.” On the contrary, it compels us to be on our spiritual guard and rely daily on God’s power, lest God’s enemies overpower us.

(2) The sword metaphor reminds us of the incredible power in our hands. In the Bible, we have the Word of God with its inherent divine power, and we have the Spirit whose mighty hand drives its words home. My exhortation is that we maintain (if not redouble) our efforts to store God’s words in our memory for future use. The psalmist said, “I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you” (Ps. 119:11). The secret hiding place for the word that the psalmist selected was his heart, in biblical anthropology, the seat of human thought and will. There its words could whisper divine promptings to his mind and tug on the levers of his will. To store God’s words there kept him from sinning by easing him away from his own (sinful) inclinations.

(3) But I also suggest that we draw on our memory bank of God’s Word as the subtle, powerful offensive weapon that Paul imagines. I propose we find ways to quote it in everyday conversations—to unleash its Spirit-driven power to penetrate the hearts and lives of people who need to hear it. Now, let me be clear on one thing. I am not calling for a new wave of Bible-bashing or a kind of “Bible-ese” in which we speak mostly in Bible verses. The verbal violence of the first approach dishonors Jesus, and the second would make us sound like freaky aliens.

I also do not assume that the Bible’s words have mystical powers that magically create effects simply by saying the words aloud. I eschew the magical mentality that undergirds the amusing story told by John Stein-beck in his delightful cross-country travel memoir, Travels with Charlie. One dark, rainy night he and Charlie, his faithful dog, camp in an eerie forest in Maine. The conjunction of darkness and loneliness stir memories of the forest of giant madrona trees on his ranch in the coastal mountains of California. He remembers how the dense forest and dim light conjure up the spooky feelings of a haunted place. He recalls asking the Filipino man who worked for him whether the spot terrified him. The man claimed that a charm given him by a witch doctor made him unafraid of evil spirits. Steinback replays the conversation:

“Let me see that charm,” I asked.

“It’s words,” he said. “It’s a word charm.”

“Can you say them to me?”

“Sure,” he said and he droned, “In nomine Patris et Fillii [sic] et Spiritus Sancti.”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

He raised his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a charm against evil spirits so I am not afraid of them.”54

Unlike Steinbeck’s story, I do not regard God’s words as a kind of magical charm. So, my call is to quote God’s words so the Holy Spirit can do its gentle surgery in human hearts. I suggest two practical ways to pursue this lifestyle of conversation. (a) One might display a Scripture quotation or two in one’s home, car, and workplace. I would advise the posting of some less familiar but thought-provoking ones. It would be wise to select Scriptures that have personal meaning or that somehow tie directly into one’s own life story. Once they are up, pray that God will use them, perhaps even as discussion starters. Indeed, those public words of God might well deserve a brief daily prayer. It would also be a good idea to change them every so often to sow more biblical seed and to foster more conversation. Finally, be prepared for those expected follow-up conversations. Get ready to explain why you selected that text and what it means to you or how it intersects with your life story.

(b) One might weave Scripture quotations into ordinary conversations at appropriate moments—but not so often as to be obvious. But do this only if it feels genuine rather than forced or uncomfortable. Whatever the method, the point is to avail ourselves of the power of God’s words to work inside people.

To conclude, it is customary in some churches for a reader who finishes reading a Scripture passage during worship to say, “This is the word of the Lord.” The congregation responds, “Thanks be to God!” Joshua 8 and the sword of the Spirit are “the word of the Lord.” They give us powerful words with which to unleash the quiet, gentle, healing, surgical work of the Spirit. God’s command on the Mount of Transfiguration was: “Listen to him!” I propose a lifestyle in which we appropriately and genuinely expose friends, family, and coworkers to some of God’s very words. My advice is: “Speak them!” Thanks be to God, indeed!

Blessings for today. Whatever their liturgical style, most Christian church services conclude with a blessing of the people. This continues the Old Testament tradition evident in Joshua 8:33 and typified by the priestly blessing of Numbers 6:24–27. In fact, that Aaronic blessing finds frequent use in contemporary benedictions (another word for “blessing”), along with New Testament ones (e.g., 2 Cor. 13:14; Eph. 3:20–21; Heb. 13:20–21; Jude 1:24–25). Those blessings are somewhat general, but the blessings in Deuteronomy 28:3–13 flesh out the kinds of things that comprise God’s blessings. Inspired by Moses’ words, I offer the following blessings for your life today:

May God’s blessings shadow you in the city and in the country—indeed, wherever you go.

May God bless you when you leave for work and when you get back home.

May God bless you with children—and bless them, too.

May God shepherd them safely through childhood and protect them from the dangers of youth.

May God bless you at work or at school to get everything done—and on time.

May your boss reward your efforts generously.

May your teacher give you good grades for good work.

May God bless you with abundant rain for your fields, gardens, and lawns.

May you never go hungry but have plenty of fruit and bread. May you always be grateful.

May God always keep your enemies at bay.

May God even give you genuine love for them.

May God walk close beside you through grief and great loss.

May God make your savings and investments grow.

May God keep you dependent on him and not on them.

May God guide your children to make wise choices.

May God grant your children mature, happy marriages.

May God also grant you many doting grandchildren.

May God grant you success in everything, even projects at home.

May God so bless you that neighbors will notice, their respect for you rise, and their hunger for God increase.

May God walk with you gently through your later years.

May God’s loving blessings shadow whatever you do and wherever you go.

Amen.

Original Meaning

The Writing of the Law (8:32–33)

ONCE THE SACRIFICES CONCLUDE, the people apparently descend the mountain since they next appear in the valley below (v. 33). Joshua then writes on the stones a copy of the “Instruction of Moses” (my translation) that the latter had himself written “in the presence of the Israelites” (v. 32).27 The reference may be to Moses’ writing of “the Book of the Covenant” (Ex. 24:4, 7), apparently at the Israelite camp though not specifically “in the presence of the Israelites,” as Joshua 8:32 says. The term “Instruction of Moses” more likely recalls his writing of “this law” at the plains of Moab since the context has the Israelites present (Deut. 31:7, 9).

The “stones” probably refer to the altar’s stone components, although Deuteronomy 27:2–4 may suggest a separate set of plastered stones.28 The ancient Near East certainly attests the practice of writing on plastered surfaces (e.g., walls, stone slabs, etc.), especially legal texts.29 But any writing posted outdoors, even on a plastered surface, would require occasional retouching because of the elements. In any case, Joshua writes this copy of the law with Israel present, just as Moses did. The double repetition of the verb “to write” (katab)—the third occurrence thus far (vv. 31, 32 [2×], 34; cf. “written” [vv. 31, 34])—sounds a key theme, the primacy of Moses’ written teaching in Israel’s national life.30 To use a modern analogy, it provides Israel’s constitution, the written document that defines their identity and destiny. Their future hangs on obedience to it.

Subject-first syntax quickly leads the reader from Mount Ebal to “all Israel” standing in the valley below (v. 33).31 Deuteronomy 27:12–13 describes the people by tribal names (e.g., Dan, Judah, etc.), but the present report (Josh. 8:33–35) invokes common social terms. Literarily, the latter terms make the description more personal and appealing and imply that the Instruction cuts across all tribal lines. The participants include everybody: leaders (“elders, officials and judges”), priests, Israelite citizens, resident aliens (vv. 33, 35), as well as “women and children” (v. 35). Everyone is present for this public, corporate event.

The inclusion of “aliens” twice underscores the inclusiveness of membership within the religious “assembly [qahal] of Israel” (v. 35). “Foreigners” (nokrim) merely pass through Israel, but resident aliens (gerim) live there permanently. The Instruction guarantees them access to fields for gleaning (Lev. 19:10; 23:22) and protects them from oppression (Ex. 21:22; Deut. 10:17–22). It supports its protections by invoking the memory of Israel’s own terrible experience as “aliens” in Egypt (Ex. 23:9; Lev. 19:34; Deut. 10:10).

More surprising, Moses’ teaching authorizes the participation of aliens in Israel’s worship life—Sabbaths (Ex. 20:10), Passover (Ex. 12:19, 48, 49), and other major festivals (Deut. 16:10–14; 26:10–11). As Howard notes, “This shows—as does the story of Rahab—that Israel’s faith was not a closed system; it was open to outsiders.”32 (For Joshua’s possible extension of resident alien status to an unexpected group, see Josh. 9.) Later, aliens also will receive protection under the system of cities of refuge (20:9). Meanwhile, whether native-born citizen or immigrant, all stand side by side in two large groups, half at the foot of Mount Gerizim and half at the foot of Mount Ebal. They wait patiently below as Joshua writes.

Note, however, the purpose that the author assigns to this assembly: Per Moses’ instructions, it convenes “to bless the people of Israel.” Here the author slightly (and significantly) departs from Deuteronomy 27. The latter orders six tribes to pronounce blessings and six tribes the curses (vv. 12–13), but here Joshua himself will soon read both (8:34). Further, Deuteronomy 27 ends with the Levites reading the long list of painful curses (vv. 16–26), but in Joshua 8 the spotlight falls exclusively on blessing for the present assembly of people.33 In short, this ceremony serves a single purpose, to bestow on the people Yahweh’s blessings. As the words of Joshua’s reading cascade like a waterfall on the people below, they drench them in the power of God to bless. (For more on blessing, see Bridging Contexts).

The Reading of the Law (8:34–35)