Passover Amid Destruction - Reflections on Joshua 5:9-12, Lent 4, Year C

by John C. Holbert on Saturday, February 8, 2025

         I admit to finding this choice of lectionary text from the Hebrew Bible during the season of Lent decidedly odd, if not on the surface at least wholly arbitrary. What in the world might a brief announcement concerning the celebration of Passover at Gilgal, on the plains of Jericho, have to do with our Lenten journey? It severely strains my interpretive genes to discover very much to say about this text. This is true for several reasons.

         The book of Joshua as a whole is a horrific account of the supposed attempted destruction of the inhabitants of the land of promise, given by YHWH to the chosen people by the attacking armies under the leadership of Joshua, the heir of Moses. I use the word “supposed” advisedly. The reality is that there is scant evidence of any sort of that destruction if there is any evidence at all. A recent survey of the archaeological evidence that might support any kind of indigenousness destruction by any kind of “army,” whether “Israelite” or not, yields practically no evidence. In a comprehensive look at the 20 city sites mentioned in Joshua that was “destroyed” by the armies of Israel, precisely two of those, only Bethel and Hazor, have any archaeological claims to destruction, more specifically, any historical claims supported by extrabiblical evidence. And even there, there is hardly any conclusive data to suggest that “Israelites” were the agents of that destruction. In short, over the past 40 years of serious archaeological research, the “conquest” model of Israel’s supposed entry into the land of promise has proven nearly devoid of any proof. Joshua as a record of that “conquest” has been shown to be little more than a literary and theological wish list of later Israelite creation. 

         Because that is so (and I may imagine that many of you may be somewhat surprised if not shocked by my claims), then the Passover celebration of Josh 5 may sound somewhat hollow, preceding as it does the enumeration of spurious battles to be fought against the inhabitants of Canaan. To be sure, the main point of the tiny text may be the fact that the gift of manna, the magical “bread” provided by YHWH in the wilderness, now is no longer available; instead for the first time the Israelites now eat the “crops of the land of Canaan” (Josh.5:12). That implies, of course, that their wilderness journey has ended, and that their new homeland will now provide all that they need to survive and flourish. 

         I suppose I could wax allegorical a bit and say that the manna being replaced by the crops of Canaan may be likened to God’s continual provision for us during our own faith journey from wilderness to the presence of God. Well, that seems a bit weak to me as a fully satisfying way to access this text. I am still affronted by the whole Joshua claim about indigenous destruction, however historically implausible it is, to find much theological and sermonic substance in that allegorical gambit. I do note that the very next text in Joshua 5:13-15 carries the rather interesting tale about Joshua’s confrontation with a mysterious “man standing before him with a drawn sword in his hand.” This man says he is “the commander of the army of YHWH,” and in response to that amazing claim, Joshua “fell on his face to the earth,” employing the familiar Hebrew verb that suggests “falling on one’s nose” in worship, and asks the man “what do you command?” The man now repeats the answer that Moses received from the burning bush, “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy” (see Ex.3:5). This is, obviously, the sign that Joshua has been designated as Moses’ successor, having been given the same evidence of God’s calling as Moses himself received.

         Moses, we remember, was not allowed to enter into the land of promise, but instead died on the mountains of Moab and was buried in an unmarked and unknown grave (see Deut.34). Still, this strange encounter with the man near Jericho makes it clear that YHWH has not left Joshua and Israel alone in the promised land but continues to be with them in their quest for permanence in that land. So, too, we might conclude, God stays with us in our journey, despite the sometimes odd ways in which God communicates the divine presence to us. 

         As I have made obvious, Joshua is not one of my favorite biblical books; it has caused no little theological anguish over the centuries for faithful Jews and Christians who are deeply troubled by the warrior God portrayed in its pages, a God who calls for the utter and complete destruction of numerous residents in the land that God has promised to the chosen ones. And even though, as I have tried to demonstrate, that destruction may be more the product of a vivid imagination rather than one grounded in actual history, it still does not make the acceptance of this view of God any easier, particularly if as a Christian one worships the child of God who is called prince of peace. Still, this is a view of God enshrined in our texts, a view that originated among people whose power was small as measured against the peoples of their time and place. We need to reckon with that view, but we need not accept it as the only one the Bible offers to us. We do well to take it seriously, but not as any sort of controlling image. We still walk with God during Lent, but the God of Joshua may not be for us God as we experience that divine presence.