Original Meaning

The Gibeonites: Trick and Treaty (9:1–27)

The Gibeonite Trick (9:1–15)

THE GIBEONITE TRICK (9:1–15). News of Israel’s capture and destruction (ḥaram hi.) of Ai (and perhaps Jericho) galvanizes Canaan’s kings into action (v. 1). Lists of the land’s main regions and its six main peoples create a double image: They underscore how widespread is the awareness of Israel’s presence and how formidable is the foe gathering to oppose them (v. 1; cf. 12:8).4 The threat Israel poses is a real one: Further victories in the Canaanite heartland could swing the strategic balance against its inhabitants. At stake is the Canaanites’ ancient way of life, precisely what Yahweh intends to replace with a whole new society.

In self-defense, the kings join forces to battle Joshua, their leadership counterpart, and Israel (v. 2). Theologically, their war plans reveal a fateful decision—the rejection of Yahweh—and sharply contrast the alternative, conciliatory approach soon to appear. In 5:1 the kings are terrified of Israel, but 9:1–2 mentions no fear factor, as if these monarchs are no longer cowed by them. Perhaps, as Hess suggests, Israel’s defeat at Ai I has encouraged the Canaanite kings that Israel can be beat in battle.5

But a subject-first sentence in verse 3 quickly shifts from the massing armies to report the reaction of a single group, “the people of Gibeon,” who have also heard the same news. The narrative move contrasts the “kings” of the cities (9:1–2; 10:1–5) with the people (lit., “inhabitants”) of Gibeon, a city that apparently has no king (vv. 3–4).6 Politically, Gibeon breaks from the pattern of domineering city-states with kings (see below and v. 17).7 The latter, several of whom are named here, are the villains of Joshua 2–11 because they plan war to resist Israel (e.g., 2:3; 5:1; 8:14; 11:1).

Like Rahab, the Gibeonites thrust the reader eyeball-to-eyeball with real live Canaanites and their real live fears (cf. v. 24). Indeed, the narrator’s preferred term for them is “Gibeonites” (vv. 3, 16, 22, 27)—that is, with the people themselves, not the city or its leaders—and the narrative speaks from the Gibeonite (not Israelite) point of view.8 Gibeon is, in fact, home to a specific subgroup of Canaan, the Hivites (v. 7; cf. v. 1), and a kind of capital city to a confederation of four small towns (cf. the list in v. 17).9

The city of Gibeon (modern el-Jib) sits in the central mountains about seven miles southwest of Ai (also nine miles northwest of Jerusalem). That explains why the word about Ai so easily reaches them. An important east-west road passes Gibeon, ascending from Jericho and descending through the Valley of Aijalon along the Beth Horon ridge to the coastal plain. The news of Joshua’s threat also galvanizes the Gibeonites into action, but with a difference. They eschew the violence of the warrior kings in favor of a simple “ruse” (beʿaremah, “with cunning”), an ambiguous term whose morality depends on how the parties involved see the matter (v. 4a).10 What the Gibeonites considered “cleverness” Israel will call “treachery” here. The clever trick aims to win them better treatment from Israel than they can expect as Canaanites. Notice the amusing irony: Israel, whose trick victimizes unsuspecting Ai (ch. 8), themselves soon fall victim to one.

The Gibeonites present quite a bedraggled, woeful picture as they enter the Israelite camp at Gilgal to meet Joshua and Israel (v. 6a).11 Their donkeys bear worn-out sacks and wineskins, the latter even showing stitches that mend tears (v. 4). The “travelers” themselves wear worn-out, patched sandals and tattered clothes, and their food is dry and crumbly (v. 5).12 They apparently expect their looks to do the talking, for they open with an abrupt, vague introduction: “We have come from a distant country,” they lie. Then they boldly ask that Israel make a treaty with them (v. 6b).13

Interestingly, their approach sounds much like Moses’ permission for Israel to make peace with foreign cities who seek it (Deut. 20:10–15).14 The whole tattered display aims to convince Israel that the visitors “are not from around here” and, hence, pose no threat to Israel. The subsequent conversation pits wary Israelites against cagey Gibeonites. “Perhaps you live near us” puts the Israelites’ wariness into words and explains their reluctance to enter a treaty (v. 7). They apparently have in mind texts that prohibit the making of treaties with the indigenous peoples of Canaan (Ex. 34:11–12; Deut. 20:15–18). They also may have learned something from the Achan incident after all! To dispel Israelite misgivings, the Hivites reply by, in essence, surrendering themselves fully into Israel’s hands (“We are your servants”; v. 8a; cf. vv. 11, 24).15 But Joshua still presses them for details about their identity (“who are you”) and homeland (“where do you come from”; v. 8b).

Their answer is at the same time expansive and evasive. They completely breeze past the request for an ethnic name, and “very distant country” names no specific homeland. They emphasize the reason for their trip: The magnet of Yahweh’s “fame” has drawn them to visit the Israelites (v. 9a; cf. 7:9). They cite reports of his victories over Egypt (v. 9b) and Sihon and Og east of the Jordan (v. 10; cf. Num. 21:21–35). Their words echo Rahab’s similar affirmation during her own negotiations for her life (2:10). Their historical review of Yahweh’s great deeds cleverly masks a diversion meant to distract Israel from finding their true status. News of Ai and Jericho gave birth to their plan (9:2–3), but here they mention only events from outside Canaan. Subtly, they feign ignorance of the latest local news, thus reinforcing their claim of being foreigners.16

Still, they claim, what they heard drove the elders and people back home to authorize the long trip and to supply them with provisions. They are empowered to surrender their people into Israel’s hands (“We are your servants”) and make a treaty (v. 11). Curiously, from prior knowledge or (more likely) dumb luck, the Gibeonite appeal may have slim support in Moses’ instructions concerning Israelite sieges of foreign cities (Deut. 20:10–15).17 Implicitly, their pitch seeks to score points with the Israelites: While the local kings mass for war, the Gibeonites “acted on the basis of what Yahweh had done.”18 How could Israel ever deny a treaty to a people who honor Yahweh and want peace?

But Israelite suspicions remain: Why is this bedraggled group so evasive? Why the unexpected revelation about Yahweh’s fame? Why did that not come out when they first arrived? Why should Israel deal with a delegation (not actual authorities) whose only accreditation is their spoken word and shabby condition?19

To allay such suspicions once and for all, the visitors point out hard evidence that verifies their “very long journey”: dry, moldy (not warm) bread, patched (not new) wineskins, and tattered clothes and worn shoes (vv. 12–13). Some Israelite men (but not Joshua) take the bait. They sample the alleged provisions but (alas) do not seek Yahweh’s advice (lit., “mouth”) on the matter (v. 14; cf. Isa. 30:2).20 Their actions naively trust the matter to their human senses rather than to divine guidance.

For his part, Joshua fails to avail himself of Yahweh’s earlier provision for seeking advice through Eleazar the priest (Num. 27:21). Suddenly, a sense of foreboding overshadows the story, for the last time Israel followed human sense the disastrous defeat at Ai resulted (7:1–5). Is history repeating itself here? Will the treachery of Gibeon put Israel at risk as did the treachery of Achan? Or might Yahweh’s providence actually be behind the conversation?

Whatever his misgivings, Joshua makes a treaty to spare the lives of these pathetic strangers, and Israel’s leaders ratify it with an oath (v. 15; cf. v. 18; 2 Sam. 21:1–14).21 Presumably, the oath invokes the name of Yahweh to enforce it—the same Yahweh whom Israel has failed to consult.22 The treaty’s provisions are unstated here but evident from the larger biblical context: an agreed-upon peace, mutual self-defense (cf. 10:6–7), and punishment for violations (2 Sam. 21:18).23 Oblivious to the Gibeonite ruse, Israel understands the agreement to guarantee the visitors safe passage through Canaan en route home. Little do they know that they have just been “had.”

The Gibeonites’ Indenture (9:16–27)

The Gibeonites’ indenture (9:16–27). The Gibeonite point of view of 9:3–15 now gives way to an Israelite one in this section. The text quotes the Gibeonites, but they make no actual appearance in what follows.24 Clearly, the “hearing” of news about Israel by Canaanites drives the plot in Joshua (2:10–11; 5:1; 9:1, 3, 9), but this time, ironically, it is Israel who hears something about Canaanites. The treaty is only three days old, and Israel learns that their new “foreign” partners are in fact Gibeonites, a people on the ḥerem hit-list (v. 16). Exactly how Israel learns this is unstated, but a sticky dilemma now confronts them. The ḥerem mandate requires the extermination of the Gibeonites, but to do so would violate the oath sworn in Yahweh’s name and risk his wrath.

Nevertheless, Israel sets off from Gilgal, reaching the Hivites’ four cities three days later (v. 17).25 The oath prohibits Israel from attacking their treaty partner but does not prevent the Israelite community at large from grumbling against the leaders who took it (v. 18). The verb “grumble” (lwn ni.) links this grumpy group with Israel’s famous ancestral grumbling against Yahweh, Moses, and Aaron in the wilderness.26 But as Butler observes, “Here the wilderness motif has been turned upside down, for in the wilderness the leaders were justified, while the congregation was guilty. Here the congregation is justified, while the leaders are at fault.”27

A crisis of confidence in Israel’s leadership (but not in Joshua) now looms large: How can leaders so easily duped into disobedience still lead? In reply, the leaders reiterate that the oath prohibits Israel from laying so much as a finger on the Gibeonites (v. 19). Israel’s only alternative is to let them live (the oath’s main provision [v. 15]) lest they incur “wrath” (presumably Yahweh’s judgment) for breaking an oath (v. 20). The leaders apparently assume that Israel may not simply declare the treaty “null and void” because it was concluded under false pretenses.28

Again, no one consults with Yahweh, who could have either voided the treaty or voiced approval of it. Instead, leaders publically pronounce their formal decision (“Let them live”), but they also limit the Gibeonites to a specific social role—to serve the community as “woodcutters and water carriers” (vv. 21, 27). Typically, those menial tasks are the province of resident aliens (gerim) who are members of the covenant with Yahweh (Deut. 29:11[10]; cf. 19:5; Josh. 8:33, 35; 20:9). So, Joshua 9:20 may actually extend the legal principle of alien inclusion to the Hivites as an exception to the ḥerem mandate.29 If so, it establishes the precedent that peoples in Canaan on the hit-list may be treated the same as resident aliens from outside it.

With Israel present in force in the Hivite heartland, Joshua summons the Hivite leaders and addresses them (v. 22). His question amounts to an accusation, as if they are on trial: Why have they deceived Israel? It invokes the typical formula by which victims of deceit confront their deceivers.30 Implicitly, Joshua indicts the Gibeonites for cunningly covering up crucial facts to gain personal advantage. He may even imply that the betrayal has brought serious injury to Israel—for example, compromised its relationship with Yahweh. Not surprisingly, Joshua next does what victims of deceit typically do: He curses the whole Hivite people (“You [pl.] are now under a curse”). The curse distances victims from the deceivers, their deceptions, and the divine judgment due them (v. 23a; cf. 6:26).31

But Joshua’s curse adds an important detail to the leader’s earlier community-service theme (cf. v. 21). He decrees that the Gibeonites’ woodcutting and water-carrying will always serve “the house of my God” (v. 23). Now, in effect, the curse demotes the Gibeonites from treaty partners to menial slaves (Heb. ʿebed) serving the whole congregation. They will do the dirty work in support of the sanctuary on behalf of the congregation. In a sense, poetic justice prevails: A ruse wins the Gibeonites continued life but at a price—reduction to permanent slavery at menial tasks (but see below). Finally, Joshua’s handling of the matter—his response to their complaints with open dialogue—regains the community’s confidence in his leadership.32

The ambiguous phrase “the house of my God” (v. 23; cf. “house of the LORD” [6:24]) may comprise an anachronism, a reflection of the author’s knowledge of the Gibeonites’ eventual destination (Jerusalem; cf. 1 Kings 6:5; Isa. 2:2). Usually, “house” (bayit) designates a permanent structure (Judg. 18:31), and the psalmist invokes “tabernacle” as a metaphor for “the house of the LORD” (the temple) where one finds refuge (Ps. 27:4, 6). Alternatively, here “house” may simply mean “sanctuary”—a reference to the tabernacle—although the Old Testament nowhere else equates “house of my God” with “the tabernacle.” Other possibilities include Shiloh, later Israel’s central meeting place (Josh. 18:1; 21:2; 22:9, 12) and a sanctuary under Eli (1 Sam. 1:7), or the important mountain-top sanctuary at Gibeon, where Solomon will later offer sacrifices (1 Kings 3:4; cf. 2 Sam. 21:6).33

Whatever the case, the curse destines the Hivites to support the worship of Yahweh with a steady supply of wood for sacrificial fires and water for ritual washing. That is the penalty they bear for their perfidy, but again it beats the alternative! From another angle, to work at the sanctuary represents something of a promotion—from great distance from Yahweh to close proximity to his presence. Surely, there are blessings to be had from working up close and personal with him (cf. the case of Obed-Edom [2 Sam. 6:11]).

Finally, in assigning the Gibeonites to the sanctuary, the sacred realm over which only priests preside, Joshua exercises an authority akin to that of Moses.

The Hivites, however, defend their actions before Joshua (v. 24): They have simply responded to what someone had told them. The comment supplements their earlier remarks (v. 9), although neither specifies the source of their information. Their knowledge proves somewhat accurate—and also differs from what Rahab knew (2:10). They knew that Yahweh had ordered Moses both to give Israel “the whole land” and to “wipe out” (šamad hi.) its inhabitants (cf. Deut. 7:23–24; 33:27). They confess that the news terrified them (“we feared for our lives”) and drove them to treachery.

However, their explanation falls considerably short of Rahab’s ringing affirmation of Yahweh’s supreme sovereignty (see 2:11). In fact, their word choice seems subtly to distance them from Yahweh. Yahweh is usually the subject of šamad hi., but their statement puts Moses between them and Yahweh, naming him as the one giving land and doing annihilation. It is almost as if they preferred to deal with a human rather than a divine opponent.34 They concede that Joshua’s “hands” hold their fate and submit to “whatever seems good and right” for him to do (v. 25).35 Joshua (lit.) “did for them accordingly” (v. 26)—in other words, what he deemed “good and right” under the circumstances. Specifically (if not surprisingly) he (lit.) “saved them from the hands of the Israelites” in whose grip revenge, if not death, might be likely. (“Israelites” here refers to the people in general, not the leaders). Implicitly, this comment further justifies the Gibeonites’ decision to pursue their duplicitous ploy.

A change to more formal literary style (“That day he made …”) brings the scene to a close (v. 27). From distant hindsight (“to this day”), the narrator reiterates Joshua’s twofold assignment of the Gibeonites: to provide wood and water “for the community” (i.e., for daily life) at large and “for the altar of the LORD” (i.e., for sacrifices). In a sense, this honors them: Their tasks may be lowly, but their workplace enjoys the highest rank and serves Yahweh Most High himself (Ps. 47:2[3]). The phrase “the place the LORD would choose” echoes a key formula from Deuteronomy—a reference to Jerusalem, in the view of many scholars. On its own, however, the phrase may designate any locale where Yahweh authorizes worship, including the apparently orthodox high place at Gibeon mentioned above.36

The point is that Joshua, not the leaders or people, decides the Gibeonites’ fate. As Moses’ successor, he enjoys Mosaic authority (cf. his cursing of Jericho [6:26]). In my view, he also exercises that highest level of authority when he exempts the Gibeonites from ḥerem. Given his dilemma—to break an oath sworn in Yahweh’s name or to disobey the ḥerem mandate—Joshua apparently believes it “good and right” to spare the Hivites and incorporate them as “aliens” within Israel.

The theology of the Gibeonites may fall short of Rahab’s, but their explanation and acceptance of Joshua’s decision (cf. vv. 24–25) remain important. It compels readers to wrestle with a key theme, Israel’s relationship with foreigners. The Gibeonites put a human face on the annihilation policy, just as the conversation with Rahab did. Seen up close, at least some Canaanites are not the whoring, incorrigible idolaters of popular impression. Rather, they are ordinary people who know a little about Yahweh, find that knowledge terrifying, and wish only to live at peace with Israel in the land. As with Rahab, the Gibeonite episode suggests that the ḥerem principle is not absolute—that exceptions may be made where elementary knowledge of Yahweh could mature into something larger.

In my view, the Deuteronomist (the book’s editor) has apparently included this episode both to explain a historical reality (i.e., why the Gibeonites still survive in Israel) and to argue that the decision by Joshua to permit it is “good and right.”37 More important, the story anticipates Yahweh’s response to the whole treaty episode in chapter 10.

Duped but Not Defeated (10:1–39)

Bridging Contexts

THREE IMPORTANT MATTERS SURFACE in the fascinating events of chapters 9–10 that merit follow up. Does the biblical writer view the ruse by which the Gibeonites win their treaty with Israel in a positive, neutral, or negative light? Why does Israel regard their oath as still valid given Gibeon’s obvious deception? And what about all the violence that chapter 10 seems to celebrate?

Unforgivable trick or providential wisdom? Elsewhere, the key term (Heb. ʿormah “ruse”) occurs only five times, with a positive sense in Proverbs (i.e., “prudence, shrewdness”; Prov. 1:4; 8:5, 12) and a negative one in Exodus 21:14 (“treachery” [i.e., a murder scheme]). Which sense best fits the present context? On the one hand, a contextual case can certainly be made for a negative connotation here. On the heels of Jericho and Ai, the divine mandate of annihilation clearly hangs like a sword of Damocles over the scene, casting any deviation from that mandate, whether by its victors or potential victims, in a negative light. Further, there is no escaping the fact that the Gibeonites plainly lie about being from a “distant country” (vv. 6, 9) and only fully disclose their identity after being discovered.89

On the other hand, to call their approach “treacherous” does not sound quite right. Though self-serving, it masks no malice or malevolence toward Israel—unlike the military machinations of the kings. The negotiations are no stalling tactic to enable a hidden Gibeonite army to overwhelm unsuspecting Israel as the latter did to Ai.

Some indicators suggest that the narrative may even aim to portray the Gibeonites and their ruse in a somewhat sympathetic light. The scene featuring their fake old clothes and phony moldy bread strikes me as comical. Indeed, once Israel learns of the trick, the public recriminations (9:18–20) pale in comparison with the bitter grumbling that bedeviled Moses. Surely, there is nothing here of the magnitude of the humiliated prostration and mourning Joshua and the leadership did after the rout at Ai.

Ultimately, however, the question of authorial sympathy depends on how one answers a larger question: How does the author interpret the events theologically? Does the author present them with approval or disapproval? Several indicators may imply the latter. (1) The treatment of the Gibeonites runs afoul of two Mosaic instructions—the prohibition against making treaties with the nations in Canaan and the command to annihilate them without exception (Deut. 7:2; 20:16–17). The Hivites clearly make the ḥerem hit-list to which both provisions apply (7:1; 20:17), so Israel’s actions toward them (Josh. 9) clearly violate those instructions.

(2) The narrator’s remark that Israel’s leaders “did not inquire of the LORD” (9:14) might characterize their inaction as unwise, if not reprehensible, especially if read in light of the Achan episode (ch. 7). The stakes for Israel are high—the potential loss both of Yahweh’s favor and of the land itself. Thus, the failure to consult might be read as reckless and imply Israelite overconfidence. Why roll the dice on Israel’s future when a simple ritual would allow Yahweh to reveal the true identity of the Gibeonites and head off Israelite disobedience?

But other indicators suggest that the situation is not so cut-and-dried. The authorial remark about Israel’s failure to consult Yahweh is in fact ambiguous. The reading cited above assumes that, if consulted, Yahweh would unmask the Gibeonites and command Israel to kill them. It is also possible, however, that consultation with Yahweh would yield a surprising exception to the ḥerem demand and articulate divine rationale for it. Remember that, notwithstanding popular impression, the Instruction of Moses is, in fact, more a statement of policy (i.e., the basic, overarching values Yahweh wishes to cultivate in Israel) than a full-blown legal code.90 Yahweh could permit an exception to the policy, especially taking into account the Hivites’ knowledge, without annulling its applicability to other situations.

In fact, do Yahweh’s subsequent words and/or actions say anything about his approval or disapproval of the treaty with the Gibeonites? In reply, his very first words since 8:18—his reassurance of Joshua and promise of victory at Gibeon (10:8)—are telling. He says nothing directly about the treaty, but his word choice clearly echoes 8:1 and, therefore, implies that Israel enjoys the same good standing (i.e., restored status) it did after Achan’s removal.

Yahweh’s actions confirm this implication. On Israel’s behalf, he unleashes his arsenal of cosmic weapons (10:10–11) and empowers Israel’s capture of the Amorite kings (vv. 15–27) and the surprising conquest of all of southern Canaan (vv. 28–39). His relationship with Joshua, if anything, actually seems to have become stronger—witness the astounding fact that Yahweh maneuvers the sun and moon in response to Joshua’s poetic petition (vv. 12–14). Further, the Joshua who orchestrates the symbolic action with the captured kings acts as a commander who feels the full confidence of his Commander-in-Chief, Yahweh (v. 25). In short, the surprising success that follows the treaty suggests at least divine acquiescence to the reality, if not actual approval of it.

Moreover, Joshua 11 clearly tips the evidentiary scales toward the “approval” side. In that chapter, the author remarks that throughout the conquest Joshua “left nothing undone of all that the LORD commanded Moses” (11:15). Since the context mentions the Hivites in Gibeon (v. 19), verse 15 seems to imply that the treaty with Gibeon actually did something that Moses commanded—or, at least, did not violate the Mosaic Instruction. More telling is the author’s explanation for why the Gibeonites escaped destruction: They were the only city in Canaan to make a peace treaty with Israel (v. 19). Further, the reason for the fallen cities’ resistance was that Yahweh had “hardened their hearts to wage war” so he might destroy them (v. 20).91

These remarks have startling implications for understanding chapters 9–10, Joshua 11:15 and 19 clearly voice approval of the Gibeonite treaty and seem to apply to Hivite Gibeon Moses’ instruction concerning how Israel is to conquer foreign cities (Deut. 20:10–15).92 The rationale for not applying that policy to cities within Canaan—that the cities might lead Israel into idolatry (Deut. 20:18)—may also supply the underlying rationale for the acceptance of the treaty. Gibeon shows a rudimentary understanding of Yahweh. Further, instead of luring Israel into idolatry, Gibeon historically served as a major center of the worship of Yahweh before the temple was built (1 Kings 3:4–5). (Presumably, the Gibeonites provided water and wood for worship there [Josh. 9:26–27]).

Also, Joshua 11:20 implies that since Gibeon survived destruction, Yahweh chose not to harden the hearts of the Gibeonites—surely, a mysterious act of sovereign divine grace—and may provide a missing piece to the puzzle of chapters 9–10. Yahweh’s sovereign guidance accounts both for the Gibeonites’ request for peace and Israel’s agreement to a treaty.93

In conclusion, I hold that the biblical writer regards the Gibeonite “ruse” as “clever” or “prudent” rather than “treacherous.” Over against the “kings” and their “cities,” what distinguishes the Gibeonites is their serious respect of Yahweh, their lack of offensive idolatry, their desire for peace rather than war, and their appeal for “good and right” treatment from Joshua (9:25). In essence, their appeal marks a call for mercy, consciously or unconsciously an appeal to the character of Yahweh as “good and right” (i.e., merciful). The entire episode provides an opportunity for Yahweh to demonstrate whether or not his ḥesed (“mercy, loyalty, [covenant] commitment”) might somehow extend to non-Israelites.

Why honor the oath? The second matter is to sort out why, when Israel discovers the Gibeonite deception, they still regard the oath they have sworn as valid. Modern readers probably presume that anything done under false pretenses is invalid, but that seems not to be the case here. By definition, an oath is a self-imprecation sworn to authenticate the seriousness with which one party (or several) enter an agreement with another (or others).94 By an oath one voluntarily accepts that dire consequences will rightly follow any violations of it. Oaths are sworn in the name of a deity (e.g., 9:15, 19), who serves as its guarantor (i.e., the enforcer of its consequences, when necessary).

Now, as strange as it may seem today, the text plainly accepts that the Gibeonite deception does not annul the oath, despite Israel’s acceptance of it under false pretenses (9:18–21). That is Israel’s explanation for why they cannot attack and kill the Gibeonites, despite grumbling in the Israelite camp (vv. 18–19). Such actions, the leaders argue, would violate the treaty and incur the punitive “wrath” of Yahweh (v. 19). The phrase “by the LORD, the God of Israel” may offer the only clue to the underlying rationale of their hesitation. To their credit, they clearly take Yahweh (and their own actions) seriously.

Genesis 27, however, does provide an illuminating parallel. Pretending to be Esau, Jacob deceived Isaac and received from his father the blessing of the firstborn that rightfully belonged to Esau. Like the oath in Joshua 9, the blessing involved a spoken word that formally effected a transaction—the patriarchal blessing (i.e., positive rather than negative consequences). Despite the false pretenses under which Jacob obtained it, Isaac was apparently only able to give Esau a different blessing, not annul and reissue the first (and official) one. For whatever reason, once spoken, the blessing could not be voided; trembling, the frail Isaac cried, “I blessed him—and indeed he will be blessed!” (27:33). This example suggests that the ancient idea that spoken words cause effects that cannot be changed may underlie what happens in Joshua 9.

A related subject concerns the phenomenon parallel to the oath, the curse that Joshua pronounces on the Gibeonites (9:23). The provision may strike some readers as harsh and vindictive, but the present writer proposes that ancient legal logic may underlie it. As Scharbert notes, the curse formula constitutes a powerful “decree” whereby an authority may impose misfortune on an individual or group guilty of a serious offense.95 Literarily, the present example follows a formal sequence of accusatory-question (v. 22), transition (“Now therefore” [NRSV]), and curse-formula in the indicative mood (“You are under a curse …”; v. 23).96 The accusatory-question (“Why did you deceive us … ?”) states the reason for which the curse is pronounced. In this case, Joshua refers to the Gibeonites’ false claim of being foreigners, a serious offense that misled Israel into a treaty they may not have otherwise made.

Typically, the principle of proper proportion guides ancient (and modern) legal penalties (i.e., “the punishment fits the crime”). So, one expects the curse to impose a consequence commensurate with the nature and seriousness of the offense. To mandate, say, the complete annihilation of the offenders (i.e., ḥerem) would constitute disproportionate punishment—like executing someone today for fraud. By contrast, the treaty is to govern Israelite-Gibeonite relations in perpetuity, so one expects the penalty likewise to apply permanently. Further, since the fraudulently executed treaty subordinates the Gibeonites to Israel, it would make sense for the penalty to perpetuate that subjection in a punitive way.

In this view, the curse conforms to the above principles. The penalty specifically repays the deception that produced the treaty not to Israel’s liking. What would be an appropriate penalty for such an offense? The curse condemns the Gibeonites to a permanent, servile social role—as “slaves” manually providing wood and water for Yahweh’s sanctuary. It corresponds to the permanent subordination of the original treaty.

At the same time, Joshua introduces a striking alteration to the servitude Israel’s leaders impose on the Hivites (9:21). He stipulates that their service as woodcutters and water-carriers take place at “the altar of the LORD” (v. 27). The implications of this provision are uncertain. It might imply that, ultimately, their offense was thought to be against Yahweh, not Israel, so they appropriately serve him as their penalty. According to verse 26, Joshua’s assignment of them to Yahweh’s altar “saved” the Gibeonites from being killed by Israelites. Perhaps their sacred location also gave them sanctuary under Yahweh’s protection from moves by future generations to exact revenge (cf. 2 Sam. 21). Another possibility is that the assignment of the Gibeonites to work at the altar put them under priestly oversight, thus limiting the possibility of their promoting idolatry in Israel.97

But what are the implications of positioning a non-Israelite people in this proximity? What level of holiness does it assume for or require of the Gibeonites? What might it suggest about their status in Israel? Does it, in fact, constitute a kind of “promotion” above the resident aliens who normally provided Israel with wood and water, although not at the holy place? Perhaps the best one can say is that the Gibeonites performed menial tasks at a prestigious site, certainly a vocation both they and Israel would regard as an honor.

Yikes! More slaughter! Finally, the slaughter and humiliation of the seven kings (10:22–27) may leave some Christian readers uncomfortable. In reply, it bears repeating that however offensive to Christian sensibilities, the scene is typical of the conquest accounts of the literature of its day.98 Joshua 10 merely reflects the warfare practices common in the ancient world, the cultural milieu that shaped the book of Joshua. The practice of violence in antiquity differs greatly from that of today. It is, thus, frankly unfair to judge practices commonly accepted three thousand years ago (or at any time in past history) by modern standards.

Moreover, it is important to remember exactly who these kings are. Joshua portrays them clearly as steadfast opponents of God’s plan for his people, rulers willing to make alliances and muster armies to annihilate Israel. In essence, they seek to do to Israel what Israel intends to do to them (a military form of ḥerem). Jews today might compare them to the Russian czars and Adolph Hitler, while Christians might compare them to Nero in the first century and to recent religious extremists in India and Kenya. In my view, the religious freedom that Western Christians enjoy sometimes blinds us to the fact that truly evil people still exist—and that their not-so-subtle goal is to stop the spread of Christianity. As a result, there are in fact many Christians who suffer under the cruel hegemony of their own “Amorite kings.”

Finally, recall that the final consummation of history involves the destruction of God’s enemies, scenes in John’s Revelation even more horrible than those in Joshua 10.

In short, while no Christian should ever be comfortable with violence, it is helpful to remember that the present chapter reflects its own ancient culture, that it should be accepted on its own ancient terms, and that God’s warfare against evil still has one final, climatic chapter planned for the future. At the same time, the merciful welcome accorded the Gibeonites anticipates the inclusive welcome that the gospel offers all nations. Thankfully, the Gibeonites already have many spiritual descendants, including the present writer, and by God’s grace more are accepting God’s offer of mercy every day.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

JOSHUA 9–10 HELPFULLY sounds three important themes crucial for contemporary Christians to hear. All three center around the topic of identity. To begin, however, one implication that does not flow from the passage merits comment.

Don’t do this! Joshua 9–10 in no way justifies the use of violence to achieve Christian goals. This seems obvious, of course, given the nonviolent ethic of Jesus, until one remembers that not too long ago the cross and the sword sought in tandem to conquer lands in the so-called “New World,” Asia, and Africa in the name of Christ. One historical lesson of that sorry colonial period of Christian history is that the gospel does not advance by military coercion.

Nevertheless, in recent memory a few Christians (among them, a former student of mine) took it upon themselves to bomb abortion clinics and kill several physicians. The bombings might have even continued had the Christian community not realized that such violence is ill-advised (and illegal). What sense does it make to take human life in order (allegedly) to save it?

Recall, further, the Old Testament understanding of Yahweh’s war. It consists of warfare that God himself wages against his enemies on behalf of his people (and with their participation). But it is not an ongoing Israelite institution. That is, it is not warfare that Israel initiates and executes on its own under the banner of Yahweh’s war. The authority to pursue it remains the exclusive province of Yahweh, so that to pursue it today would require nothing less than a direct divine revelation, not just biblical teaching.

Also, the Bible regards the conquest of Canaan as a one-time-only event to achieve a specific purpose—to provide Israel a homeland and God a geographical base from which eventually to bless the world. There is no justification for adopting the Conquest as a paradigm for the use of violence as part of spiritual warfare today. Instead, Paul points in the right direction when he commends the gospel as “the power of God for … salvation” (Rom. 1:16). It is more powerful than anything humans can do and, hence, needs neither sword nor political system to achieve its conquests.

Similarly, Isaiah got it right when he warned late eighth-century Judah against dependence on Egyptian military aid rather than on Yahweh for survival. He said, “The Egyptians are mortals and not God; their horses are flesh and not spirit” (Isa. 31:3a TNIV). According to Isaiah, the real power lies not in “flesh” (i.e., “mortals”//“horses”) but in “spirit” (i.e., in God’s mighty power). In sum, Joshua offers no justification for the use of violence to achieve Christian ends. It might be tempting for a local congregation to bomb city hall when city planners deny its petition for some variance or rezoning, but Joshua in no way justifies the acting out of “righteous indignation” in violence. The nonviolent plan may frustrate us, but it is Jesus’ way of doing things.

The big picture: there’s a war out there! To eschew violence is not to deny that there is a spiritual war going on as I write this. Au contraire! There is, in fact, a war out there (and “in here,” too). Indeed, the first aspect of contemporary meaning is to recognize how Joshua 9–10 offers a microcosm of the “big picture,” the gospel enterprise in history. Whatever one’s moral compunctions about the Conquest, theologically it marks a step forward in God’s plan to establish his kingdom on earth. It confronts the ruling powers of the day (the “Amorite kings”) with the demand that they submit to Yahweh’s sovereign rule. It puts his representatives—his chosen people, warts and all—smack dab in the middle of the nations of the world.

Two major international highways, the Coastal Highway (along the Mediterranean) and the King’s Highway (along the Jordan’s east bank), border it and offer access in all directions. That brings many nations to Israel’s doorstep, sometimes for peace, other times for war. Israel’s presence confronts one of the local nations, the Hivites of Gibeon, with a choice: To avoid annihilation, they can either join the forming military alliances or somehow sue the invaders for peace. The request for a treaty marks the only time since the Exodus that another nation has greeted Israel peacefully. In Joshua 9–10 the battle between Yahweh and his enemies is both historical and cosmic. It pits earthly kings against Yahweh’s cosmic powers (i.e., the sun and moon). The conquest and settlement of the Promised Land anticipate God’s sending of Jesus to teach, live, die, and rise again. It also prepares a place for the giving of the Great Commission, the day of Pentecost, and the carrying of the gospel in all directions.

For Christians the war is a spiritual one. Rather than confront enemies of “flesh and blood,” they face “the rulers … the authorities … the powers of this dark world and … the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12). Their enemies are both political leaders and cosmic evil forces whose opposition to the gospel is as fierce as—if not greater than—that of the Amorite kings. Like Israel, God has also dispersed his representatives—his own redeemed people—right in the middle of the world’s many nations. The arrival of gospel messengers anywhere provokes modern Amorites to hostile opposition and people like the Gibeonites to peaceful inquiry.

In one sense, all Christians (except for Jewish ones) are the spiritual descendants of the Gibeonites—“Gentiles,” or people who once “were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise” (Eph. 2:12). But then they met Jesus Christ, and that changed everything. With the Gibeonites in mind, savor Paul’s poignant description of the transformation of Gentiles from their pre- to post-Christian status:

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.… For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. (Eph. 2:13, 18–20 TNIV)

People both “far away” (Gibeonites/Gentiles) and “near” (Jews) have been “brought near [to God] by the blood of Christ” (vv. 13, 17). Christ has come and “preached peace” to them, so “peace” (the ultimate treaty!) has replaced “the dividing wall of hostility” (e.g., the fearful threat of ḥerem) that once had Gibeonites and Israelites at loggerheads. Indeed, Christ has united Gibeonites and Israelites into “one new humanity” in fellowship with God through Christ’s salvific work (vv. 14, 17). As a result, Gibeonites are no longer “foreigners and aliens”—people on God’s hit-list—but “fellow citizens with God’s people” and even “members of his [personal] household” (v. 19). No more lowly “woodcutters and water carriers” laboring on the periphery of the sanctuary! Now they have full “access to the Father” (v. 18), relating to him not as “people” to “God” but as “child” to “Father”! Indeed, gone is the circumspect, low-profile life on the margins; now Gibeonites comprise part of the temple itself, the very place “in which God lives by his Spirit” (vv. 21–22).

What a stunning portrait of the marvelous change in status given by God to all believers as a free gift of his grace through their faith in Christ. They enjoy the full standing before God of which the Gibeonites may only have dreamed. Nevertheless, as in Joshua 9–10, God is engaged in spiritual warfare today, seeking Gibeonites to believe in him while battling the vicious Amorite kings. The sweeping triumph of Joshua 9–10 reminds believers that since God the Warrior leads the way, final victory is certain.

To cite Paul again, the Christian hope of final triumph derives from God’s “incomparably great power for us who believe,” “the working of his mighty strength” that raised Christ from the dead and seated him at God’s right hand” (Eph. 1:19–20). Christ (our Joshua as we fight for the kingdom’s advance) enjoys that exalted seat of cosmic authority. It includes God’s placement of “all things under his feet” (remember the fate of the five kings!) and his appointment as head of the church (1:22). It means that Christ decisively outranks “all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come” (1:21). As Yahweh’s power and authority empowered Israel to execute his plan, so for Christians the power and authority of Christ emboldens us with confidence and hope whatever the circumstances. Thanks be to God!

The ideal troops: the kind soldier. The kind of spiritual warfare engaging Christians today calls for a soldier with certain character traits. In Joshua 9–10, the conduct of the leaders, both Joshua and the others, illustrates several of them. (1) The ideal troops are people of their word. Though deceit had led Israel into the treaty, they refused to invoke it as an excuse for bailing out of it later. Whatever their motive—not to risk Yahweh’s wrath or not to dishonor his name—they stuck with their agreement, even when it drew them into war against half of Canaan.

Jesus taught something similar when he said, “Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one” (Matt. 5:37). The apostle James put it a little more strongly: “Above all … do not swear—not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no, or you will be condemned” (James 5:12). Both Jesus and James underscore that Christians are to be people of their word. They are people who follow through on their commitments made by saying “Yes” and do not second-guess themselves on commitments declined with a “No.” The world is filled with phony Yes-People—people who accept a commitment but cannot be counted on to carry it out—and Maybe-people—people who are afraid to say “No” so they say “Maybe” (a polite “No”).

This trait is more than just human decisiveness. It is, in fact, a spiritual one because it mirrors the nature of God as trustworthy. As Balaam put it, “God is not a human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?” (Num. 23:19 TNIV; cf. 1 Sam. 15:29). The seer gives two key insights. (a) He affirms that what God “promises” he “fulfills.” Put in modern terms, “he says what he means and he means what he says.” (b) Balaam states that lying is typical of human beings. His assumption is either that their evil side asserts itself in lies or that they are too weak to speak with consistency (or both). That is why we humans need the alternative model of constancy in truth-telling that God himself provides. That is why we need the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome our evil bent and weakness.

The trait of straight speaking is also spiritual in another sense. It reflects our trust in the guidance of God through the Holy Spirit to discern whether “Yes” or “No” is the best answer at the time. The life of faith draws on the Spirit’s help to know when each response is appropriate—even times when “Maybe” might genuinely allow time for a prayerful quest for God’s guidance. The latter would be appropriate when facing a life-altering decision—a move, marriage, job change, financial venture, and so on.

(2) The second trait for today’s soldiers is to be people of mercy. Joshua exemplifies this trait when the Gibeonites, owning their duplicity, gently cast their fate in his hands (“We are now in your hands”; 9:24–25). They accept that Joshua holds all the cards—that they are completely at his mercy (cf. Jer. 26:14a). Subtly, they appeal to the great leader’s compassionate side. Further, accepting their powerlessness, they willingly submit to his decision (“Do to us whatever seems good and right to you”). Both “good” and “right” entail an ethical appeal; the former implies “do what you think best,” whereas “right” assumes action according to a standard (“do the right thing”).99

This word pair asks Joshua for an outcome that benefits him and Israel and that also treats the Gibeonites fairly. At first glance, “fairly” might bring up the prospect of the dreaded ḥerem, but the question for Joshua is: “How should I treat people who chose peace over war and who accept some basic truths about our God?” Or, “Given that, might Yahweh make an exception as he did with Rahab?” In the end, Joshua shows mercy: He “saves” the Gibeonites from Israelite revenge and accords them a unique social role in Israel’s worship. Israel knows Yahweh as a God of mercy, and in my view Joshua 9–10 display that mercy, too. On Mount Sinai Yahweh proclaimed himself as “the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness” (Ex. 34:6), words that Psalm 103:8–10 echoes:

The LORD is compassionate and gracious,

slow to anger, abounding in love.

He will not always accuse,

nor will he harbor his anger forever;

he does not treat us as our sins deserve

or repay us according to our iniquities.100

David, in fact, gambled on that very mercy when Yahweh permitted him to choose his punishment for taking a census (2 Sam. 24). He opted for three days of plague rather than three years of famine or three months of pursuit by enemies. His rationale was clear: “Let us fall into the hands of the LORD, for his mercy is great; but do not let me fall into the hands of men” (2 Sam. 24:14). He knew the character of his God, and his gamble paid off. Though seventy thousand Israelites died, it so grieved Yahweh to destroy Jerusalem that he ended the plague (24:16).

Joshua knew that side of Yahweh, too. He (and Israel) had experienced it after the Achan episode (Josh. 7–8). Also, as noted above, Joshua 9–10 seem to put on display the mercy of God also toward the Gibeonites doomed to die under ḥerem, the same mercy he also showed Rahab, because they submitted to his will. The episodes involving David, Rahab, and the Gibeonites remind us that God himself is the example par excellence of mercy and the standard against which to measure ours.

Although ḥerem was not involved, Jesus’ himself once confronted a non-Israelite outsider, a Canaanite woman, who sought his mercy (Matt. 15:22–28). She cried out desperately on behalf of her demon-possessed daughter, but Jesus ignored her, claiming that his mission was only for “the lost sheep of Israel” (v. 24). Though she persisted, he resisted, even appearing to insult the woman: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs” (v. 26). But she replied cleverly, “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table” (v. 27). The rejoinder amazed Jesus, and he immediately praised her faith. He readily granted her request, and her daughter recovered (v. 28). As Joshua extended mercy to the Gibeonites, so Jesus did to the Canaanite woman, and good soldiers of the cross always strive to put Jesus’ beatitude into practice: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” (Matt. 5:7).

(3) Good soldiers are also people of prayer. Someone recently dialed a phone number and received this message: “I am not available right now, but thank you for caring enough to call. I am making some changes in my life. Please leave a message after the beep. If I do not return your call, you are one of the changes.” Well, God never answers people that way. Again, Joshua’s poetic prayer—his petition concerning the sun and moon amid the chaos of battle (10:12b)—exemplifies this truth. As the biblical writer stresses, the astonishing thing is that God “obeyed” a human voice.101 Truly astonishing, indeed! Autobiographically, the psalmist frames the question that fuels the astonishment:

When I consider your heavens,

the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars,

which you have set in place,

what are mere mortals that you are mindful of them,

human beings that you care for them? (Ps. 8:3–4 TNIV)

Given the vast nightly, celestial display, the psalmist finds it unbelievable that God, the Creator of the cosmos, even notices humans at all.102 How can God not only notice them but also actually hear their words and—most astounding—even act in response? But the simple biblical fact is that he does, as this refrain from a song by Johnny Cash affirms:

I talk to Jesus everyday,

And he’s interested in everything I say;

No secretary ever tells me,

‘He’s been called away.’

I talk to Jesus every day.

That is why the apostle James exhorts Christians to pray about practical needs:

Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray.… Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make them well; the Lord will raise them up.… The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. (James 5:13–15a, 16b TNIV)

James calls believers to pray in trouble and in sickness caused by sin. He says that the prayer of someone in right standing before God is “powerful and effective” (James 5:16). As proof he cites the case of Elijah, whose earnest prayers—first for drought, then for rain—each proved effective because God answered them (5:17–18; cf. 1 Kings 17:1; 18:36–37).

Such prayers and answers are not merely nice things God does. They are also weapons in the cosmic battle in which we Christians are now engaged. Answers to prayer testify not only that God exists but that we are in personal contact with him. That sends the message that God somehow cares about humans. They confirm that “God [indeed] so loved the world …” (John 3:16). In short, an ongoing life of prayer marks a believer as a soldier of the cross, someone ready to offer services to people outside the faith.

Today’s Gibeonites. In another way, the situation of Israel and the Gibeonites compares to our contemporary situation as Christians. There are Gibeonites near us—people outside the kingdom who, according to Jesus, at this present moment stand condemned to eternal death because of their unbelief (John 3:18). Like the Gibeonites, they may have some knowledge of the Bible’s God but, unlike them, have not yet exchanged their rebellion against him for a relationship with him.

Of course, this analogy has several important limitations. Israel was to impose ḥerem on the Gibeonites, while Christians have no authorization to impose judgment on anyone. Indeed, our instructions are to leave judgment to God (Deut. 32:35; Rom. 12:19), who has a final judgment day already planned (Rev. 20:11–15). Further, the Gibeonites approached Israel, not the other way around, whereas Jesus’ mandate to us is to “go and make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19). Nevertheless, Joshua 9–10 show the contrasting fates of those who surrender to God and those who rebel—the Gibeonites versus the kings of Canaan—and God’s use of Israel (a reluctant Israel, to be sure) to initiate a relationship with himself. For us the question is: With regard to the Gibeonites of today, what do we do?

In a recent book, George Hunter aptly described the contemporary culture in which Christians live and minister:

The Church, in the Western world, faces populations who are increasingly “secular”—people with no Christian memory, who don’t know what we Christians are talking about. These populations are increasingly “urban”—and out of touch with God’s “natural revelation.” These populations are increasingly “postmodern”; they have graduated from Enlightenment ideology and are more peer driven, feeling driven, and “right-brained” than their forebears. These populations are increasingly “neo-barbarian”; they lack “refinement” or “class,” and their lives are often out of control. These populations are increasingly receptive—exploring worldview options from Astrology to Zen—and are often looking “in all the wrong places” to make sense of their lives and find their soul’s true home.103

Hunter’s description implies that to reach such populations—our Gibeonites—will require a new approach. In my view, reflection on Joshua’s relationship with the Gibeonites and the Celtic model of Hunter may point the way. Recall that the Gibeonites knew only a few basic things about Israel and about God. They also preferred peace to war and tricked Israel into a treaty. Israel let them live, and Joshua’s curse assigned them permanently to humble service at Yahweh’s sanctuary. Whether intended or not, that assignment gave the Gibeonites a glimpse of Yahweh’s work in human lives at street level. They could closely observe daily worship, annual festivals, sacrifices, readings of the Instruction, legal processes, and so on. In short, Israel incorporated them into its community, albeit in a restricted sense.104

Hunter studied how St. Patrick won the barbarian Celts in Ireland to Christianity and also, through missionaries sent from his community, he reestablished it in Europe (fourth to fifth cent. A.D.). Rather than build a church or a monastery, St. Patrick set up “monastic communities” in locales accessible to traffic (e.g., near main roads, villages, etc.). The community was remarkably diverse: It had monastic priests and nuns, but also nonascetic priests and a variety of lay people (e.g., “scholars, teachers, craftsmen, artists, farmers, families, and children”).105 Worship, study, and work comprised the average day, making the communities beehives of all sorts of activities—unlike the typical cloistered monasteries.

These communities intentionally cultivated ongoing contacts with outsiders and welcomed visitors. Hospitality to guests of all kinds (e.g., pilgrims, refugees, seekers, etc.) was a priority.106 They evangelized as a team, who supported each other and pursued good relationships with the nearby settlement. Community activities (e.g., solitary spiritual exercises, peer accountability, small groups, work and worship, etc.) prepared members for sharing the gospel. Community prayer life prominently featured imaginative prayer—prayer that touched emotions and engaged the imagination, including poetry with vivid visual images (in modern terms, “right-brained”). Through contact with the community, outsiders learned some Scripture, came to understand Christian beliefs, were prayed for regularly, and eventually asked about making a commitment to Christ. In short, what Robin Gill observes about most new Christians today was true of monastic communities: “Belonging comes before believing.”107

Hunter’s study suggests that the way local churches relate to outsiders may need revision. The “revivalist” model that seeks to draw a crowd to hear a message must give way to a more relational model. The focus should be less on attracting people to hear preaching and more on drawing them relationally into ongoing contact with some form of Christian community. For some, the “community” may be weekly worship or a creative, city-wide outreach activity. For others it may be an Alpha Course, a small discussion group or Bible study, a special lecture series, a community-oriented social activity, a church-sponsored community project, a divorce recovery group, and the like. Church members “out there” in the neighborhood constitute the key bridge linking these Christian communities to people outside the church.

Many churches use creative means to encourage and counsel Christians on how to make friends, pursue relationships, answer serious questions, meet practical needs, and offer prayer for needs. The point is that local churches may need to think of themselves differently. Rather than places for mainly Christians, they should see themselves as worshiping communities that intentionally seek, welcome, and incorporate Gibeonites. Through community participation, they will observe the Christian life in action and engage Christian beliefs without pressure. Their priority should be to make seekers feel welcome and cared for—to cultivate “belonging” before “believing.” The words of an ancient Chinese poem summarize the Gibeonite/Celtic model:

Go to the people.

Live among them.

Learn from them.

Love them.

Start with what they know.

Build on what they have.108

Some years ago, Ed Dobson—a traditional, older pastor of a traditional church in Grand Rapids, Michigan—led his church to try a four-month experiment called “Saturday Night Live.” It was a Saturday night worship service geared for the street people, prostitutes, and the homeless near the church. Before beginning, Ed warned the Sunday morning congregation not to attend Saturday evening. He said that the music would offend and that he would talk fifteen minutes about God, not give a sermon. He would also pass out 3 × 5 cards for people to submit their questions about God. They would put their name on the card, and Ed would answer them that night. Ed asked the Sunday morning folks to pray for the experiment, and the experiment began.

The street-people audience, over-the-top music, short talk about God, and question-and-answer time was just as Ed had said. But during the first two months, Ed was dumbfounded to see three ladies from the Sunday morning congregation up in the balcony every Saturday night. Finally, he went up there one night to find out why.

“Oh, Pastor, it’s about the questions,” one said.

“About the questions?” he asked. “You all know the answers to these questions. You’ve been Christians for years—longer than I have, in fact.”

“No, Pastor,” they said, “it’s the names. We write down the names you read from the cards. And every Tuesday morning in our prayer group, we pray for each name. We pray for their salvation.”

After four months, twenty people had received eternal life through Saturday Night Live and the prayers of those three ladies. The church voted to continue the experiment, and it eventually became a church plant on its own, a church that continues to thrive today.109 Surrounded by a growing sea of contemporary Gibeonites, Joshua would call churches today to engage them through their own creative outreach strategies.

Original Meaning

Summary of the Conquest (Joshua 10:40–43)

THE STORYTELLER’S RETROSPECTIVE COMMENT now rings down the curtain on an amazing series of events. Since victories at Jericho and Ai, Israel has rung up a stunning string of additional victories, effectively destroying many of southern Canaan’s leading cites and decimating its population.88 Up front, he credits Joshua with the achievement (“Joshua subdued the whole region”), sounding again the theme of Joshua’s rise to Moses-like stature (see above). He lists what “the whole region” comprises (v. 40): “the hill country” (i.e., the central mountain backbone), “the Negev” (the southern desert), “the western foothills” inland from the coastal plain, and “the mountain slopes” (the ridges that connect the foothills with the central backbone), and all their kings.

Borrowing terms from verses 28–39, the author credits Joshua with leaving “no survivors” (10:40)—that is, with annihilating “all who breathed”—in obedience to Yahweh’s command. The author stakes out the boundaries of Joshua’s swath of victory with the typical Old Testament way of describing large territory (“from … to …”; e.g., 11:17; 13:26; et al.). Kadesh Barnea was an oasis in the southern Negev—Israel’s home base during the wilderness wanderings (cf. Num. 32:8; 34:4); Gaza was a large state in the coastal plain northwest of Kadesh. Though as yet unidentified, the “region of Goshen” probably lay somewhere in the central Negev (see 11:16; 15:51), while Gibeon was the city in the strategic Central Benjamin Plateau (CBP), the city whose ruse lit the firestorm of vv. 28–39.

Verses 41–42 celebrate Israel’s conquest (but not necessarily control) of the land. Their conquest includes the mountainous spinal cord (south to north) from the lower Negev to the CBP (less Jerusalem, among others, of course) and (east to west) from the backbone to the coastal plain. The reason “one campaign” (lit., “one time”) suffices to achieve it is “because the LORD, the God of Israel, fought for Israel”—a verbal echo of verse 14b and, hence, a major theme in the chapter. The narrator awards the heroic victor’s crown to Joshua, but ultimately it is Yahweh who has given the decisive margin of victory.

Finally, after a remarkable blitzkrieg that, in essence, won them the southern half of Canaan, Joshua and Israel return to base camp at Gilgal (v. 43). Certainly, their families welcome their return for a period of rest, but further momentous events soon follow (ch. 11).

Bridging Contexts

Bridging Contexts

THREE IMPORTANT MATTERS SURFACE in the fascinating events of chapters 9–10 that merit follow up. Does the biblical writer view the ruse by which the Gibeonites win their treaty with Israel in a positive, neutral, or negative light? Why does Israel regard their oath as still valid given Gibeon’s obvious deception? And what about all the violence that chapter 10 seems to celebrate?

Unforgivable trick or providential wisdom? Elsewhere, the key term (Heb. ʿormah “ruse”) occurs only five times, with a positive sense in Proverbs (i.e., “prudence, shrewdness”; Prov. 1:4; 8:5, 12) and a negative one in Exodus 21:14 (“treachery” [i.e., a murder scheme]). Which sense best fits the present context? On the one hand, a contextual case can certainly be made for a negative connotation here. On the heels of Jericho and Ai, the divine mandate of annihilation clearly hangs like a sword of Damocles over the scene, casting any deviation from that mandate, whether by its victors or potential victims, in a negative light. Further, there is no escaping the fact that the Gibeonites plainly lie about being from a “distant country” (vv. 6, 9) and only fully disclose their identity after being discovered.89

On the other hand, to call their approach “treacherous” does not sound quite right. Though self-serving, it masks no malice or malevolence toward Israel—unlike the military machinations of the kings. The negotiations are no stalling tactic to enable a hidden Gibeonite army to overwhelm unsuspecting Israel as the latter did to Ai.

Some indicators suggest that the narrative may even aim to portray the Gibeonites and their ruse in a somewhat sympathetic light. The scene featuring their fake old clothes and phony moldy bread strikes me as comical. Indeed, once Israel learns of the trick, the public recriminations (9:18–20) pale in comparison with the bitter grumbling that bedeviled Moses. Surely, there is nothing here of the magnitude of the humiliated prostration and mourning Joshua and the leadership did after the rout at Ai.

Ultimately, however, the question of authorial sympathy depends on how one answers a larger question: How does the author interpret the events theologically? Does the author present them with approval or disapproval? Several indicators may imply the latter. (1) The treatment of the Gibeonites runs afoul of two Mosaic instructions—the prohibition against making treaties with the nations in Canaan and the command to annihilate them without exception (Deut. 7:2; 20:16–17). The Hivites clearly make the ḥerem hit-list to which both provisions apply (7:1; 20:17), so Israel’s actions toward them (Josh. 9) clearly violate those instructions.

(2) The narrator’s remark that Israel’s leaders “did not inquire of the LORD” (9:14) might characterize their inaction as unwise, if not reprehensible, especially if read in light of the Achan episode (ch. 7). The stakes for Israel are high—the potential loss both of Yahweh’s favor and of the land itself. Thus, the failure to consult might be read as reckless and imply Israelite overconfidence. Why roll the dice on Israel’s future when a simple ritual would allow Yahweh to reveal the true identity of the Gibeonites and head off Israelite disobedience?

But other indicators suggest that the situation is not so cut-and-dried. The authorial remark about Israel’s failure to consult Yahweh is in fact ambiguous. The reading cited above assumes that, if consulted, Yahweh would unmask the Gibeonites and command Israel to kill them. It is also possible, however, that consultation with Yahweh would yield a surprising exception to the ḥerem demand and articulate divine rationale for it. Remember that, notwithstanding popular impression, the Instruction of Moses is, in fact, more a statement of policy (i.e., the basic, overarching values Yahweh wishes to cultivate in Israel) than a full-blown legal code.90 Yahweh could permit an exception to the policy, especially taking into account the Hivites’ knowledge, without annulling its applicability to other situations.

In fact, do Yahweh’s subsequent words and/or actions say anything about his approval or disapproval of the treaty with the Gibeonites? In reply, his very first words since 8:18—his reassurance of Joshua and promise of victory at Gibeon (10:8)—are telling. He says nothing directly about the treaty, but his word choice clearly echoes 8:1 and, therefore, implies that Israel enjoys the same good standing (i.e., restored status) it did after Achan’s removal.

Yahweh’s actions confirm this implication. On Israel’s behalf, he unleashes his arsenal of cosmic weapons (10:10–11) and empowers Israel’s capture of the Amorite kings (vv. 15–27) and the surprising conquest of all of southern Canaan (vv. 28–39). His relationship with Joshua, if anything, actually seems to have become stronger—witness the astounding fact that Yahweh maneuvers the sun and moon in response to Joshua’s poetic petition (vv. 12–14). Further, the Joshua who orchestrates the symbolic action with the captured kings acts as a commander who feels the full confidence of his Commander-in-Chief, Yahweh (v. 25). In short, the surprising success that follows the treaty suggests at least divine acquiescence to the reality, if not actual approval of it.

Moreover, Joshua 11 clearly tips the evidentiary scales toward the “approval” side. In that chapter, the author remarks that throughout the conquest Joshua “left nothing undone of all that the LORD commanded Moses” (11:15). Since the context mentions the Hivites in Gibeon (v. 19), verse 15 seems to imply that the treaty with Gibeon actually did something that Moses commanded—or, at least, did not violate the Mosaic Instruction. More telling is the author’s explanation for why the Gibeonites escaped destruction: They were the only city in Canaan to make a peace treaty with Israel (v. 19). Further, the reason for the fallen cities’ resistance was that Yahweh had “hardened their hearts to wage war” so he might destroy them (v. 20).91

These remarks have startling implications for understanding chapters 9–10, Joshua 11:15 and 19 clearly voice approval of the Gibeonite treaty and seem to apply to Hivite Gibeon Moses’ instruction concerning how Israel is to conquer foreign cities (Deut. 20:10–15).92 The rationale for not applying that policy to cities within Canaan—that the cities might lead Israel into idolatry (Deut. 20:18)—may also supply the underlying rationale for the acceptance of the treaty. Gibeon shows a rudimentary understanding of Yahweh. Further, instead of luring Israel into idolatry, Gibeon historically served as a major center of the worship of Yahweh before the temple was built (1 Kings 3:4–5). (Presumably, the Gibeonites provided water and wood for worship there [Josh. 9:26–27]).

Also, Joshua 11:20 implies that since Gibeon survived destruction, Yahweh chose not to harden the hearts of the Gibeonites—surely, a mysterious act of sovereign divine grace—and may provide a missing piece to the puzzle of chapters 9–10. Yahweh’s sovereign guidance accounts both for the Gibeonites’ request for peace and Israel’s agreement to a treaty.93

In conclusion, I hold that the biblical writer regards the Gibeonite “ruse” as “clever” or “prudent” rather than “treacherous.” Over against the “kings” and their “cities,” what distinguishes the Gibeonites is their serious respect of Yahweh, their lack of offensive idolatry, their desire for peace rather than war, and their appeal for “good and right” treatment from Joshua (9:25). In essence, their appeal marks a call for mercy, consciously or unconsciously an appeal to the character of Yahweh as “good and right” (i.e., merciful). The entire episode provides an opportunity for Yahweh to demonstrate whether or not his ḥesed (“mercy, loyalty, [covenant] commitment”) might somehow extend to non-Israelites.

Why honor the oath? The second matter is to sort out why, when Israel discovers the Gibeonite deception, they still regard the oath they have sworn as valid. Modern readers probably presume that anything done under false pretenses is invalid, but that seems not to be the case here. By definition, an oath is a self-imprecation sworn to authenticate the seriousness with which one party (or several) enter an agreement with another (or others).94 By an oath one voluntarily accepts that dire consequences will rightly follow any violations of it. Oaths are sworn in the name of a deity (e.g., 9:15, 19), who serves as its guarantor (i.e., the enforcer of its consequences, when necessary).

Now, as strange as it may seem today, the text plainly accepts that the Gibeonite deception does not annul the oath, despite Israel’s acceptance of it under false pretenses (9:18–21). That is Israel’s explanation for why they cannot attack and kill the Gibeonites, despite grumbling in the Israelite camp (vv. 18–19). Such actions, the leaders argue, would violate the treaty and incur the punitive “wrath” of Yahweh (v. 19). The phrase “by the LORD, the God of Israel” may offer the only clue to the underlying rationale of their hesitation. To their credit, they clearly take Yahweh (and their own actions) seriously.

Genesis 27, however, does provide an illuminating parallel. Pretending to be Esau, Jacob deceived Isaac and received from his father the blessing of the firstborn that rightfully belonged to Esau. Like the oath in Joshua 9, the blessing involved a spoken word that formally effected a transaction—the patriarchal blessing (i.e., positive rather than negative consequences). Despite the false pretenses under which Jacob obtained it, Isaac was apparently only able to give Esau a different blessing, not annul and reissue the first (and official) one. For whatever reason, once spoken, the blessing could not be voided; trembling, the frail Isaac cried, “I blessed him—and indeed he will be blessed!” (27:33). This example suggests that the ancient idea that spoken words cause effects that cannot be changed may underlie what happens in Joshua 9.

A related subject concerns the phenomenon parallel to the oath, the curse that Joshua pronounces on the Gibeonites (9:23). The provision may strike some readers as harsh and vindictive, but the present writer proposes that ancient legal logic may underlie it. As Scharbert notes, the curse formula constitutes a powerful “decree” whereby an authority may impose misfortune on an individual or group guilty of a serious offense.95 Literarily, the present example follows a formal sequence of accusatory-question (v. 22), transition (“Now therefore” [NRSV]), and curse-formula in the indicative mood (“You are under a curse …”; v. 23).96 The accusatory-question (“Why did you deceive us … ?”) states the reason for which the curse is pronounced. In this case, Joshua refers to the Gibeonites’ false claim of being foreigners, a serious offense that misled Israel into a treaty they may not have otherwise made.

Typically, the principle of proper proportion guides ancient (and modern) legal penalties (i.e., “the punishment fits the crime”). So, one expects the curse to impose a consequence commensurate with the nature and seriousness of the offense. To mandate, say, the complete annihilation of the offenders (i.e., ḥerem) would constitute disproportionate punishment—like executing someone today for fraud. By contrast, the treaty is to govern Israelite-Gibeonite relations in perpetuity, so one expects the penalty likewise to apply permanently. Further, since the fraudulently executed treaty subordinates the Gibeonites to Israel, it would make sense for the penalty to perpetuate that subjection in a punitive way.

In this view, the curse conforms to the above principles. The penalty specifically repays the deception that produced the treaty not to Israel’s liking. What would be an appropriate penalty for such an offense? The curse condemns the Gibeonites to a permanent, servile social role—as “slaves” manually providing wood and water for Yahweh’s sanctuary. It corresponds to the permanent subordination of the original treaty.

At the same time, Joshua introduces a striking alteration to the servitude Israel’s leaders impose on the Hivites (9:21). He stipulates that their service as woodcutters and water-carriers take place at “the altar of the LORD” (v. 27). The implications of this provision are uncertain. It might imply that, ultimately, their offense was thought to be against Yahweh, not Israel, so they appropriately serve him as their penalty. According to verse 26, Joshua’s assignment of them to Yahweh’s altar “saved” the Gibeonites from being killed by Israelites. Perhaps their sacred location also gave them sanctuary under Yahweh’s protection from moves by future generations to exact revenge (cf. 2 Sam. 21). Another possibility is that the assignment of the Gibeonites to work at the altar put them under priestly oversight, thus limiting the possibility of their promoting idolatry in Israel.97

But what are the implications of positioning a non-Israelite people in this proximity? What level of holiness does it assume for or require of the Gibeonites? What might it suggest about their status in Israel? Does it, in fact, constitute a kind of “promotion” above the resident aliens who normally provided Israel with wood and water, although not at the holy place? Perhaps the best one can say is that the Gibeonites performed menial tasks at a prestigious site, certainly a vocation both they and Israel would regard as an honor.

Yikes! More slaughter! Finally, the slaughter and humiliation of the seven kings (10:22–27) may leave some Christian readers uncomfortable. In reply, it bears repeating that however offensive to Christian sensibilities, the scene is typical of the conquest accounts of the literature of its day.98 Joshua 10 merely reflects the warfare practices common in the ancient world, the cultural milieu that shaped the book of Joshua. The practice of violence in antiquity differs greatly from that of today. It is, thus, frankly unfair to judge practices commonly accepted three thousand years ago (or at any time in past history) by modern standards.

Moreover, it is important to remember exactly who these kings are. Joshua portrays them clearly as steadfast opponents of God’s plan for his people, rulers willing to make alliances and muster armies to annihilate Israel. In essence, they seek to do to Israel what Israel intends to do to them (a military form of ḥerem). Jews today might compare them to the Russian czars and Adolph Hitler, while Christians might compare them to Nero in the first century and to recent religious extremists in India and Kenya. In my view, the religious freedom that Western Christians enjoy sometimes blinds us to the fact that truly evil people still exist—and that their not-so-subtle goal is to stop the spread of Christianity. As a result, there are in fact many Christians who suffer under the cruel hegemony of their own “Amorite kings.”

Finally, recall that the final consummation of history involves the destruction of God’s enemies, scenes in John’s Revelation even more horrible than those in Joshua 10.

In short, while no Christian should ever be comfortable with violence, it is helpful to remember that the present chapter reflects its own ancient culture, that it should be accepted on its own ancient terms, and that God’s warfare against evil still has one final, climatic chapter planned for the future. At the same time, the merciful welcome accorded the Gibeonites anticipates the inclusive welcome that the gospel offers all nations. Thankfully, the Gibeonites already have many spiritual descendants, including the present writer, and by God’s grace more are accepting God’s offer of mercy every day.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

JOSHUA 9–10 HELPFULLY sounds three important themes crucial for contemporary Christians to hear. All three center around the topic of identity. To begin, however, one implication that does not flow from the passage merits comment.

Don’t do this! Joshua 9–10 in no way justifies the use of violence to achieve Christian goals. This seems obvious, of course, given the nonviolent ethic of Jesus, until one remembers that not too long ago the cross and the sword sought in tandem to conquer lands in the so-called “New World,” Asia, and Africa in the name of Christ. One historical lesson of that sorry colonial period of Christian history is that the gospel does not advance by military coercion.

Nevertheless, in recent memory a few Christians (among them, a former student of mine) took it upon themselves to bomb abortion clinics and kill several physicians. The bombings might have even continued had the Christian community not realized that such violence is ill-advised (and illegal). What sense does it make to take human life in order (allegedly) to save it?

Recall, further, the Old Testament understanding of Yahweh’s war. It consists of warfare that God himself wages against his enemies on behalf of his people (and with their participation). But it is not an ongoing Israelite institution. That is, it is not warfare that Israel initiates and executes on its own under the banner of Yahweh’s war. The authority to pursue it remains the exclusive province of Yahweh, so that to pursue it today would require nothing less than a direct divine revelation, not just biblical teaching.

Also, the Bible regards the conquest of Canaan as a one-time-only event to achieve a specific purpose—to provide Israel a homeland and God a geographical base from which eventually to bless the world. There is no justification for adopting the Conquest as a paradigm for the use of violence as part of spiritual warfare today. Instead, Paul points in the right direction when he commends the gospel as “the power of God for … salvation” (Rom. 1:16). It is more powerful than anything humans can do and, hence, needs neither sword nor political system to achieve its conquests.

Similarly, Isaiah got it right when he warned late eighth-century Judah against dependence on Egyptian military aid rather than on Yahweh for survival. He said, “The Egyptians are mortals and not God; their horses are flesh and not spirit” (Isa. 31:3a TNIV). According to Isaiah, the real power lies not in “flesh” (i.e., “mortals”//“horses”) but in “spirit” (i.e., in God’s mighty power). In sum, Joshua offers no justification for the use of violence to achieve Christian ends. It might be tempting for a local congregation to bomb city hall when city planners deny its petition for some variance or rezoning, but Joshua in no way justifies the acting out of “righteous indignation” in violence. The nonviolent plan may frustrate us, but it is Jesus’ way of doing things.

The big picture: there’s a war out there! To eschew violence is not to deny that there is a spiritual war going on as I write this. Au contraire! There is, in fact, a war out there (and “in here,” too). Indeed, the first aspect of contemporary meaning is to recognize how Joshua 9–10 offers a microcosm of the “big picture,” the gospel enterprise in history. Whatever one’s moral compunctions about the Conquest, theologically it marks a step forward in God’s plan to establish his kingdom on earth. It confronts the ruling powers of the day (the “Amorite kings”) with the demand that they submit to Yahweh’s sovereign rule. It puts his representatives—his chosen people, warts and all—smack dab in the middle of the nations of the world.

Two major international highways, the Coastal Highway (along the Mediterranean) and the King’s Highway (along the Jordan’s east bank), border it and offer access in all directions. That brings many nations to Israel’s doorstep, sometimes for peace, other times for war. Israel’s presence confronts one of the local nations, the Hivites of Gibeon, with a choice: To avoid annihilation, they can either join the forming military alliances or somehow sue the invaders for peace. The request for a treaty marks the only time since the Exodus that another nation has greeted Israel peacefully. In Joshua 9–10 the battle between Yahweh and his enemies is both historical and cosmic. It pits earthly kings against Yahweh’s cosmic powers (i.e., the sun and moon). The conquest and settlement of the Promised Land anticipate God’s sending of Jesus to teach, live, die, and rise again. It also prepares a place for the giving of the Great Commission, the day of Pentecost, and the carrying of the gospel in all directions.

For Christians the war is a spiritual one. Rather than confront enemies of “flesh and blood,” they face “the rulers … the authorities … the powers of this dark world and … the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12). Their enemies are both political leaders and cosmic evil forces whose opposition to the gospel is as fierce as—if not greater than—that of the Amorite kings. Like Israel, God has also dispersed his representatives—his own redeemed people—right in the middle of the world’s many nations. The arrival of gospel messengers anywhere provokes modern Amorites to hostile opposition and people like the Gibeonites to peaceful inquiry.

In one sense, all Christians (except for Jewish ones) are the spiritual descendants of the Gibeonites—“Gentiles,” or people who once “were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise” (Eph. 2:12). But then they met Jesus Christ, and that changed everything. With the Gibeonites in mind, savor Paul’s poignant description of the transformation of Gentiles from their pre- to post-Christian status:

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.… For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. (Eph. 2:13, 18–20 TNIV)

People both “far away” (Gibeonites/Gentiles) and “near” (Jews) have been “brought near [to God] by the blood of Christ” (vv. 13, 17). Christ has come and “preached peace” to them, so “peace” (the ultimate treaty!) has replaced “the dividing wall of hostility” (e.g., the fearful threat of ḥerem) that once had Gibeonites and Israelites at loggerheads. Indeed, Christ has united Gibeonites and Israelites into “one new humanity” in fellowship with God through Christ’s salvific work (vv. 14, 17). As a result, Gibeonites are no longer “foreigners and aliens”—people on God’s hit-list—but “fellow citizens with God’s people” and even “members of his [personal] household” (v. 19). No more lowly “woodcutters and water carriers” laboring on the periphery of the sanctuary! Now they have full “access to the Father” (v. 18), relating to him not as “people” to “God” but as “child” to “Father”! Indeed, gone is the circumspect, low-profile life on the margins; now Gibeonites comprise part of the temple itself, the very place “in which God lives by his Spirit” (vv. 21–22).

What a stunning portrait of the marvelous change in status given by God to all believers as a free gift of his grace through their faith in Christ. They enjoy the full standing before God of which the Gibeonites may only have dreamed. Nevertheless, as in Joshua 9–10, God is engaged in spiritual warfare today, seeking Gibeonites to believe in him while battling the vicious Amorite kings. The sweeping triumph of Joshua 9–10 reminds believers that since God the Warrior leads the way, final victory is certain.

To cite Paul again, the Christian hope of final triumph derives from God’s “incomparably great power for us who believe,” “the working of his mighty strength” that raised Christ from the dead and seated him at God’s right hand” (Eph. 1:19–20). Christ (our Joshua as we fight for the kingdom’s advance) enjoys that exalted seat of cosmic authority. It includes God’s placement of “all things under his feet” (remember the fate of the five kings!) and his appointment as head of the church (1:22). It means that Christ decisively outranks “all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come” (1:21). As Yahweh’s power and authority empowered Israel to execute his plan, so for Christians the power and authority of Christ emboldens us with confidence and hope whatever the circumstances. Thanks be to God!

The ideal troops: the kind soldier. The kind of spiritual warfare engaging Christians today calls for a soldier with certain character traits. In Joshua 9–10, the conduct of the leaders, both Joshua and the others, illustrates several of them. (1) The ideal troops are people of their word. Though deceit had led Israel into the treaty, they refused to invoke it as an excuse for bailing out of it later. Whatever their motive—not to risk Yahweh’s wrath or not to dishonor his name—they stuck with their agreement, even when it drew them into war against half of Canaan.

Jesus taught something similar when he said, “Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one” (Matt. 5:37). The apostle James put it a little more strongly: “Above all … do not swear—not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no, or you will be condemned” (James 5:12). Both Jesus and James underscore that Christians are to be people of their word. They are people who follow through on their commitments made by saying “Yes” and do not second-guess themselves on commitments declined with a “No.” The world is filled with phony Yes-People—people who accept a commitment but cannot be counted on to carry it out—and Maybe-people—people who are afraid to say “No” so they say “Maybe” (a polite “No”).

This trait is more than just human decisiveness. It is, in fact, a spiritual one because it mirrors the nature of God as trustworthy. As Balaam put it, “God is not a human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?” (Num. 23:19 TNIV; cf. 1 Sam. 15:29). The seer gives two key insights. (a) He affirms that what God “promises” he “fulfills.” Put in modern terms, “he says what he means and he means what he says.” (b) Balaam states that lying is typical of human beings. His assumption is either that their evil side asserts itself in lies or that they are too weak to speak with consistency (or both). That is why we humans need the alternative model of constancy in truth-telling that God himself provides. That is why we need the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome our evil bent and weakness.

The trait of straight speaking is also spiritual in another sense. It reflects our trust in the guidance of God through the Holy Spirit to discern whether “Yes” or “No” is the best answer at the time. The life of faith draws on the Spirit’s help to know when each response is appropriate—even times when “Maybe” might genuinely allow time for a prayerful quest for God’s guidance. The latter would be appropriate when facing a life-altering decision—a move, marriage, job change, financial venture, and so on.

(2) The second trait for today’s soldiers is to be people of mercy. Joshua exemplifies this trait when the Gibeonites, owning their duplicity, gently cast their fate in his hands (“We are now in your hands”; 9:24–25). They accept that Joshua holds all the cards—that they are completely at his mercy (cf. Jer. 26:14a). Subtly, they appeal to the great leader’s compassionate side. Further, accepting their powerlessness, they willingly submit to his decision (“Do to us whatever seems good and right to you”). Both “good” and “right” entail an ethical appeal; the former implies “do what you think best,” whereas “right” assumes action according to a standard (“do the right thing”).99

This word pair asks Joshua for an outcome that benefits him and Israel and that also treats the Gibeonites fairly. At first glance, “fairly” might bring up the prospect of the dreaded ḥerem, but the question for Joshua is: “How should I treat people who chose peace over war and who accept some basic truths about our God?” Or, “Given that, might Yahweh make an exception as he did with Rahab?” In the end, Joshua shows mercy: He “saves” the Gibeonites from Israelite revenge and accords them a unique social role in Israel’s worship. Israel knows Yahweh as a God of mercy, and in my view Joshua 9–10 display that mercy, too. On Mount Sinai Yahweh proclaimed himself as “the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness” (Ex. 34:6), words that Psalm 103:8–10 echoes:

The LORD is compassionate and gracious,

slow to anger, abounding in love.

He will not always accuse,

nor will he harbor his anger forever;

he does not treat us as our sins deserve

or repay us according to our iniquities.100

David, in fact, gambled on that very mercy when Yahweh permitted him to choose his punishment for taking a census (2 Sam. 24). He opted for three days of plague rather than three years of famine or three months of pursuit by enemies. His rationale was clear: “Let us fall into the hands of the LORD, for his mercy is great; but do not let me fall into the hands of men” (2 Sam. 24:14). He knew the character of his God, and his gamble paid off. Though seventy thousand Israelites died, it so grieved Yahweh to destroy Jerusalem that he ended the plague (24:16).

Joshua knew that side of Yahweh, too. He (and Israel) had experienced it after the Achan episode (Josh. 7–8). Also, as noted above, Joshua 9–10 seem to put on display the mercy of God also toward the Gibeonites doomed to die under ḥerem, the same mercy he also showed Rahab, because they submitted to his will. The episodes involving David, Rahab, and the Gibeonites remind us that God himself is the example par excellence of mercy and the standard against which to measure ours.

Although ḥerem was not involved, Jesus’ himself once confronted a non-Israelite outsider, a Canaanite woman, who sought his mercy (Matt. 15:22–28). She cried out desperately on behalf of her demon-possessed daughter, but Jesus ignored her, claiming that his mission was only for “the lost sheep of Israel” (v. 24). Though she persisted, he resisted, even appearing to insult the woman: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs” (v. 26). But she replied cleverly, “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table” (v. 27). The rejoinder amazed Jesus, and he immediately praised her faith. He readily granted her request, and her daughter recovered (v. 28). As Joshua extended mercy to the Gibeonites, so Jesus did to the Canaanite woman, and good soldiers of the cross always strive to put Jesus’ beatitude into practice: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” (Matt. 5:7).

(3) Good soldiers are also people of prayer. Someone recently dialed a phone number and received this message: “I am not available right now, but thank you for caring enough to call. I am making some changes in my life. Please leave a message after the beep. If I do not return your call, you are one of the changes.” Well, God never answers people that way. Again, Joshua’s poetic prayer—his petition concerning the sun and moon amid the chaos of battle (10:12b)—exemplifies this truth. As the biblical writer stresses, the astonishing thing is that God “obeyed” a human voice.101 Truly astonishing, indeed! Autobiographically, the psalmist frames the question that fuels the astonishment:

When I consider your heavens,

the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars,

which you have set in place,

what are mere mortals that you are mindful of them,

human beings that you care for them? (Ps. 8:3–4 TNIV)

Given the vast nightly, celestial display, the psalmist finds it unbelievable that God, the Creator of the cosmos, even notices humans at all.102 How can God not only notice them but also actually hear their words and—most astounding—even act in response? But the simple biblical fact is that he does, as this refrain from a song by Johnny Cash affirms:

I talk to Jesus everyday,

And he’s interested in everything I say;

No secretary ever tells me,

‘He’s been called away.’

I talk to Jesus every day.

That is why the apostle James exhorts Christians to pray about practical needs:

Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray.… Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make them well; the Lord will raise them up.… The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. (James 5:13–15a, 16b TNIV)

James calls believers to pray in trouble and in sickness caused by sin. He says that the prayer of someone in right standing before God is “powerful and effective” (James 5:16). As proof he cites the case of Elijah, whose earnest prayers—first for drought, then for rain—each proved effective because God answered them (5:17–18; cf. 1 Kings 17:1; 18:36–37).

Such prayers and answers are not merely nice things God does. They are also weapons in the cosmic battle in which we Christians are now engaged. Answers to prayer testify not only that God exists but that we are in personal contact with him. That sends the message that God somehow cares about humans. They confirm that “God [indeed] so loved the world …” (John 3:16). In short, an ongoing life of prayer marks a believer as a soldier of the cross, someone ready to offer services to people outside the faith.

Today’s Gibeonites. In another way, the situation of Israel and the Gibeonites compares to our contemporary situation as Christians. There are Gibeonites near us—people outside the kingdom who, according to Jesus, at this present moment stand condemned to eternal death because of their unbelief (John 3:18). Like the Gibeonites, they may have some knowledge of the Bible’s God but, unlike them, have not yet exchanged their rebellion against him for a relationship with him.

Of course, this analogy has several important limitations. Israel was to impose ḥerem on the Gibeonites, while Christians have no authorization to impose judgment on anyone. Indeed, our instructions are to leave judgment to God (Deut. 32:35; Rom. 12:19), who has a final judgment day already planned (Rev. 20:11–15). Further, the Gibeonites approached Israel, not the other way around, whereas Jesus’ mandate to us is to “go and make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19). Nevertheless, Joshua 9–10 show the contrasting fates of those who surrender to God and those who rebel—the Gibeonites versus the kings of Canaan—and God’s use of Israel (a reluctant Israel, to be sure) to initiate a relationship with himself. For us the question is: With regard to the Gibeonites of today, what do we do?

In a recent book, George Hunter aptly described the contemporary culture in which Christians live and minister:

The Church, in the Western world, faces populations who are increasingly “secular”—people with no Christian memory, who don’t know what we Christians are talking about. These populations are increasingly “urban”—and out of touch with God’s “natural revelation.” These populations are increasingly “postmodern”; they have graduated from Enlightenment ideology and are more peer driven, feeling driven, and “right-brained” than their forebears. These populations are increasingly “neo-barbarian”; they lack “refinement” or “class,” and their lives are often out of control. These populations are increasingly receptive—exploring worldview options from Astrology to Zen—and are often looking “in all the wrong places” to make sense of their lives and find their soul’s true home.103

Hunter’s description implies that to reach such populations—our Gibeonites—will require a new approach. In my view, reflection on Joshua’s relationship with the Gibeonites and the Celtic model of Hunter may point the way. Recall that the Gibeonites knew only a few basic things about Israel and about God. They also preferred peace to war and tricked Israel into a treaty. Israel let them live, and Joshua’s curse assigned them permanently to humble service at Yahweh’s sanctuary. Whether intended or not, that assignment gave the Gibeonites a glimpse of Yahweh’s work in human lives at street level. They could closely observe daily worship, annual festivals, sacrifices, readings of the Instruction, legal processes, and so on. In short, Israel incorporated them into its community, albeit in a restricted sense.104

Hunter studied how St. Patrick won the barbarian Celts in Ireland to Christianity and also, through missionaries sent from his community, he reestablished it in Europe (fourth to fifth cent. A.D.). Rather than build a church or a monastery, St. Patrick set up “monastic communities” in locales accessible to traffic (e.g., near main roads, villages, etc.). The community was remarkably diverse: It had monastic priests and nuns, but also nonascetic priests and a variety of lay people (e.g., “scholars, teachers, craftsmen, artists, farmers, families, and children”).105 Worship, study, and work comprised the average day, making the communities beehives of all sorts of activities—unlike the typical cloistered monasteries.

These communities intentionally cultivated ongoing contacts with outsiders and welcomed visitors. Hospitality to guests of all kinds (e.g., pilgrims, refugees, seekers, etc.) was a priority.106 They evangelized as a team, who supported each other and pursued good relationships with the nearby settlement. Community activities (e.g., solitary spiritual exercises, peer accountability, small groups, work and worship, etc.) prepared members for sharing the gospel. Community prayer life prominently featured imaginative prayer—prayer that touched emotions and engaged the imagination, including poetry with vivid visual images (in modern terms, “right-brained”). Through contact with the community, outsiders learned some Scripture, came to understand Christian beliefs, were prayed for regularly, and eventually asked about making a commitment to Christ. In short, what Robin Gill observes about most new Christians today was true of monastic communities: “Belonging comes before believing.”107

Hunter’s study suggests that the way local churches relate to outsiders may need revision. The “revivalist” model that seeks to draw a crowd to hear a message must give way to a more relational model. The focus should be less on attracting people to hear preaching and more on drawing them relationally into ongoing contact with some form of Christian community. For some, the “community” may be weekly worship or a creative, city-wide outreach activity. For others it may be an Alpha Course, a small discussion group or Bible study, a special lecture series, a community-oriented social activity, a church-sponsored community project, a divorce recovery group, and the like. Church members “out there” in the neighborhood constitute the key bridge linking these Christian communities to people outside the church.

Many churches use creative means to encourage and counsel Christians on how to make friends, pursue relationships, answer serious questions, meet practical needs, and offer prayer for needs. The point is that local churches may need to think of themselves differently. Rather than places for mainly Christians, they should see themselves as worshiping communities that intentionally seek, welcome, and incorporate Gibeonites. Through community participation, they will observe the Christian life in action and engage Christian beliefs without pressure. Their priority should be to make seekers feel welcome and cared for—to cultivate “belonging” before “believing.” The words of an ancient Chinese poem summarize the Gibeonite/Celtic model:

Go to the people.

Live among them.

Learn from them.

Love them.

Start with what they know.

Build on what they have.108

Some years ago, Ed Dobson—a traditional, older pastor of a traditional church in Grand Rapids, Michigan—led his church to try a four-month experiment called “Saturday Night Live.” It was a Saturday night worship service geared for the street people, prostitutes, and the homeless near the church. Before beginning, Ed warned the Sunday morning congregation not to attend Saturday evening. He said that the music would offend and that he would talk fifteen minutes about God, not give a sermon. He would also pass out 3 × 5 cards for people to submit their questions about God. They would put their name on the card, and Ed would answer them that night. Ed asked the Sunday morning folks to pray for the experiment, and the experiment began.

The street-people audience, over-the-top music, short talk about God, and question-and-answer time was just as Ed had said. But during the first two months, Ed was dumbfounded to see three ladies from the Sunday morning congregation up in the balcony every Saturday night. Finally, he went up there one night to find out why.

“Oh, Pastor, it’s about the questions,” one said.

“About the questions?” he asked. “You all know the answers to these questions. You’ve been Christians for years—longer than I have, in fact.”

“No, Pastor,” they said, “it’s the names. We write down the names you read from the cards. And every Tuesday morning in our prayer group, we pray for each name. We pray for their salvation.”

After four months, twenty people had received eternal life through Saturday Night Live and the prayers of those three ladies. The church voted to continue the experiment, and it eventually became a church plant on its own, a church that continues to thrive today.109 Surrounded by a growing sea of contemporary Gibeonites, Joshua would call churches today to engage them through their own creative outreach strategies.