Beginning with looking at the very first chapters of Genesis through a new lens, this recontextualization of the biblical narrative has been based on the foundation that all people are capable of recognizing and living out a deep truth, beauty, and creativity within them. This deep self lies beneath the fears and beliefs we accumulate throughout our lives and is the very character of the divine. If we choose to do so, we can see that divine character all around us, that undeniable truth, deep beauty, and fearless inspiration being present in all of nature and in every other people, however hidden or prominently exhibited.
As the biblical narrative continued, it became a tale of how people paid more attention to Fear than to their own divine natures. Fear led people to do some horrible things to themselves and to other people, and those actions sometimes had far-reaching consequences. Even though the Old Testament narrative is not historical fact, we can clearly relate to the truths it reflects about human nature. We sometimes do regrettable things because we give irrational fears too much power in our lives.
Moses attempted to create a society focused outward, toward an externalized deity, with a prescribed set of laws, beliefs, and behaviors designed to connect people to the divine and to one another. Many other cultures also strove to quantify the divine in some external way, even as many cultures strive to do today. Stepping out of the narrative of the ancient Israelites as it is presented in the Bible, the religious laws and regulations in the Old Testament were actually created over a long period of time and written back into a pseudo-historical context in an effort to provide a strong spiritual foundation for a specific society. These went beyond merely specifying punishments for the kinds of moral issues on which nearly every society agrees. These laws and regulations were, in a certain sense, an attempt to define the divine in a meaningful way.
When Moses died, Joshua took his mantle of leadership, and various judges followed him in the recorded history of the Israelites. The story told in Joshua and Judges is a downward spiral of a culture falling prey to its own fears and losing its sense of identity. Their propensity to see their joys and sorrows as manifestations of divine approval or rejection robbed them of personal responsibility, and the tendency to place the character of the divine somewhere outside of themselves left them spiritually vulnerable and immature. In short, the social experiment is showing some weaknesses, but the hardships to come for the Israelites will give them reasons to cling to their culture with grim determination.
We are not a part of the ancient Israelite worldview. We do not have the same cultural or geographical background as the ancient Israelites. We are more knowledgeable in every field than they were, as we should be after a few thousand years of development. We have choices about what we believe, and in the Western world, we can largely make those choices without fear of death. Whatever beliefs you choose about the divine, hopefully those beliefs give you a reason to confront your irrational fears and make decisions based on a deeper truth. Whether you prefer one religion or another, or no religion at all, the bottom line is that we are connected to one another and to the world around us. Our actions matter. The ancient Israelites understood this, even as they wrestled with their cultural identity. It is not beyond us today to recognize our need for connection to the world, to one another, and to ourselves. It is not beyond us today to put aside irrational fear and take personal responsibility for our actions and our beliefs. To call upon a word that is overused and often abused, it is not beyond us today to love, deeply and sincerely, ourselves and the people with whom we share this existence.
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Monday, September 24, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Joshua 9-21: The Truth about Your Superiority Complex and the Fear that Fuels It
As we've mentioned, the book of Joshua was probably written by a collection of different authors at a much later time in Israel's history than the events described in the book. As a part of the "Deuteronomistic history," this book (and the books that follow in the biblical structure) were most likely created to justify a shift toward monotheism and more prominent leadership role of the priesthood under King Josiah late in the 7th century BCE, with the book possibly being completed as much as a century later. It's evident that the story being told in Joshua is that the Israelites, empowered by their faith, conquered a large swath of the area around the Jordan River, taking livestock, property, and riches from the cities and killing every man, woman, and child of nearly every kingdom they conquered. In the parlance of our time, we call this genocide, but in the minds of the Israelites, this was simply claiming what God had promised them. God was in fact instigator and accomplice in their violence, according to the book of Joshua.
Many of the stories that pepper the chapters on the distribution of land, as well as the tales of conquest, end with statements like, "And there they remain to this day." This suggests that many of the stories were intended to explain a situation, like why a particular group of Israelites were granted access to a particular well, or why a certain group of foreigners/infidels/heathens became slave labor for the Israelites instead of being slaughtered outright. The stories are not intended to question the status quo, but rather to justify it in a way that put any questions or objections to rest, much like a parental, "because I said so." Since we are looking back from a different vantage point, we have the opportunity to see some things about the Israelites' self-identity that they may have been unable to see, on account of their immersion in the culture. Perhaps we can even use such observations to gain a little perspective about our own worldviews.
There's no question that the Israelites thought of themselves as better than everyone else. On the surface at least. Their god was better than anyone else's god. Their entitlement to property and buildings and livestock was more legitimate than anyone else's. Even their lives were worth more than other people's lives. Perhaps there was some kind of collective narcissism at work, much like what happens in today's world when extreme nationalism shoves aside any thought of treating other people humanely. If we accept the narrative of the Bible as how the Israelites saw themselves, perhaps the vehement superiority was actually a defense mechanism for what they feared about themselves, that they were, at their core, slaves.
When we fear something about ourselves, we can go to great lengths to disprove that fear. If we fear that we are worthless, we might do everything in our power to demonstrate to everyone how valuable we are. If we fear that we are unlovable, we might do all manner of self-destructive things just to devour illusions of love from other people. And if we believe that we are no better than slaves, powerless, worth less than "real" people? We might go to great length just to show everyone just how powerful we can be. And how worthless they are. "It doesn't matter if we were slaves in Egypt. We're so powerful we can take your cities and all of your stuff and kill every last one of you! We're not weak and powerless. You're the weak and powerless ones!"
Either way, the lie wins. If we roll over and accept the lie, we live like we are worthless or unlovable or powerless or selfish or whatever our own personal lies may be, and we never work up the courage to look at the truth about who we are. And if we defend ourselves against the lie, we go one step further and create a different lie about who we are. We live like we are more than everyone else. We miss the truth about who we are and the truth about the other people around us. All because of fear. People don't lay waste to a city and slaughter everyone inside unless they are afraid of something. And in our lives, we don't dehumanize other people or ignore our own value and capability unless we have given in to fear.
Maybe it doesn't manifest as a superiority complex in your life, but for the Israelites, fear told them that they had to prove how powerful and right they were, and they overlooked the atrocities they committed because they marched under the banner of a righteous and perfect god who approved of their actions. There was no group of people that the Israelites could accept as equals -- at least not in the book of Joshua. Those they didn't slaughter, they made into slaves. That's right. The people whose cultural identity revolved around escaping slavery in Egypt accepted other people only under terms of forced labor. The irony seems to have been lost on the writers of Joshua, but hopefully our ability to recognize it will alert us to similar ironies in our own lives.
So, the Israelites failed to see their own authentic value as human beings, failed to see other people's authentic value as human beings, committed genocide, stole property, and engaged in slavery, and they thought of all of this as being righteous because of a myopic religion, all the while failing to recognize that their behavior was fueled by fear. They bolstered their cultural identity with some admirable traits as well. When they made a promise, even if that promise was made because of a deception, they kept their word. The Israelites placed great value on the vows they made. (Just hang on to this little tidbit, since it will become much more important in the book of Judges.) The writers of Joshua go to great lengths to detail how fairly the land was distributed. And whether it was because of a fear that God (or someone representing God) would punish them or whether it was out of respect for one another, the Israelites seemed to treat each other like people of equal value, even if they were from different tribes. We cannot stomach being "all bad" even when we justify a great amount of ugly behavior. Somewhere inside of us there is a glimmer of our true selves that insists on being expressed.
The fear tells us that if we examine ourselves and really look deep into the core of who we are, that we will see something less than human. That the lie will turn out to be true. That we will really turn out to be vacuous, weak, unlovable, selfish, ugly. But the lie only has power as long as we are afraid of it. Confront the lie for what it is, and the fear can no longer govern our behavior. The Israelites didn't have to be conquerors, murderers, looters, destroyers, or slavers, just as they didn't have to be weak, worthless, or enslaved. But they believed that their only choices were very clear extremes. That's what fear will do.
What fear are you ignoring? What lies are you avoiding about your true nature? Are you afraid that you are weak? Stupid? Worthless? Unlovable? What are you doing with those lies? Giving in and living like you're something less than human? Or fighting against it to prove the lie wrong? Are you hurting other people just to show how powerful you are? Are you hurting yourself just to show how lovable you are? What is it that keeps you from embracing your identity as a beautiful, creative, capable, valuable, worthy human being? Whatever it is, it's a lie.
Here's a little secret: When you want to, you can look at any other person, no matter how much or how little you know about them, regardless of how they're behaving, and you can see the divine within them -- you can see a deep and undeniable value, beauty, and creativity that no amount of lies can destroy. You can also just see the lies about who they think they are. Or who you think they are. What you see is your choice. The same goes for yourself. If you look for the truth within you, you will find a deep and undeniable worthiness, beauty, and creativity. Or you can stop short and just see the lies. What you see is your choice. And what you do with what you see is your choice too.
Many of the stories that pepper the chapters on the distribution of land, as well as the tales of conquest, end with statements like, "And there they remain to this day." This suggests that many of the stories were intended to explain a situation, like why a particular group of Israelites were granted access to a particular well, or why a certain group of foreigners/infidels/heathens became slave labor for the Israelites instead of being slaughtered outright. The stories are not intended to question the status quo, but rather to justify it in a way that put any questions or objections to rest, much like a parental, "because I said so." Since we are looking back from a different vantage point, we have the opportunity to see some things about the Israelites' self-identity that they may have been unable to see, on account of their immersion in the culture. Perhaps we can even use such observations to gain a little perspective about our own worldviews.
There's no question that the Israelites thought of themselves as better than everyone else. On the surface at least. Their god was better than anyone else's god. Their entitlement to property and buildings and livestock was more legitimate than anyone else's. Even their lives were worth more than other people's lives. Perhaps there was some kind of collective narcissism at work, much like what happens in today's world when extreme nationalism shoves aside any thought of treating other people humanely. If we accept the narrative of the Bible as how the Israelites saw themselves, perhaps the vehement superiority was actually a defense mechanism for what they feared about themselves, that they were, at their core, slaves.
When we fear something about ourselves, we can go to great lengths to disprove that fear. If we fear that we are worthless, we might do everything in our power to demonstrate to everyone how valuable we are. If we fear that we are unlovable, we might do all manner of self-destructive things just to devour illusions of love from other people. And if we believe that we are no better than slaves, powerless, worth less than "real" people? We might go to great length just to show everyone just how powerful we can be. And how worthless they are. "It doesn't matter if we were slaves in Egypt. We're so powerful we can take your cities and all of your stuff and kill every last one of you! We're not weak and powerless. You're the weak and powerless ones!"
Either way, the lie wins. If we roll over and accept the lie, we live like we are worthless or unlovable or powerless or selfish or whatever our own personal lies may be, and we never work up the courage to look at the truth about who we are. And if we defend ourselves against the lie, we go one step further and create a different lie about who we are. We live like we are more than everyone else. We miss the truth about who we are and the truth about the other people around us. All because of fear. People don't lay waste to a city and slaughter everyone inside unless they are afraid of something. And in our lives, we don't dehumanize other people or ignore our own value and capability unless we have given in to fear.
Maybe it doesn't manifest as a superiority complex in your life, but for the Israelites, fear told them that they had to prove how powerful and right they were, and they overlooked the atrocities they committed because they marched under the banner of a righteous and perfect god who approved of their actions. There was no group of people that the Israelites could accept as equals -- at least not in the book of Joshua. Those they didn't slaughter, they made into slaves. That's right. The people whose cultural identity revolved around escaping slavery in Egypt accepted other people only under terms of forced labor. The irony seems to have been lost on the writers of Joshua, but hopefully our ability to recognize it will alert us to similar ironies in our own lives.
So, the Israelites failed to see their own authentic value as human beings, failed to see other people's authentic value as human beings, committed genocide, stole property, and engaged in slavery, and they thought of all of this as being righteous because of a myopic religion, all the while failing to recognize that their behavior was fueled by fear. They bolstered their cultural identity with some admirable traits as well. When they made a promise, even if that promise was made because of a deception, they kept their word. The Israelites placed great value on the vows they made. (Just hang on to this little tidbit, since it will become much more important in the book of Judges.) The writers of Joshua go to great lengths to detail how fairly the land was distributed. And whether it was because of a fear that God (or someone representing God) would punish them or whether it was out of respect for one another, the Israelites seemed to treat each other like people of equal value, even if they were from different tribes. We cannot stomach being "all bad" even when we justify a great amount of ugly behavior. Somewhere inside of us there is a glimmer of our true selves that insists on being expressed.
The fear tells us that if we examine ourselves and really look deep into the core of who we are, that we will see something less than human. That the lie will turn out to be true. That we will really turn out to be vacuous, weak, unlovable, selfish, ugly. But the lie only has power as long as we are afraid of it. Confront the lie for what it is, and the fear can no longer govern our behavior. The Israelites didn't have to be conquerors, murderers, looters, destroyers, or slavers, just as they didn't have to be weak, worthless, or enslaved. But they believed that their only choices were very clear extremes. That's what fear will do.
What fear are you ignoring? What lies are you avoiding about your true nature? Are you afraid that you are weak? Stupid? Worthless? Unlovable? What are you doing with those lies? Giving in and living like you're something less than human? Or fighting against it to prove the lie wrong? Are you hurting other people just to show how powerful you are? Are you hurting yourself just to show how lovable you are? What is it that keeps you from embracing your identity as a beautiful, creative, capable, valuable, worthy human being? Whatever it is, it's a lie.
Here's a little secret: When you want to, you can look at any other person, no matter how much or how little you know about them, regardless of how they're behaving, and you can see the divine within them -- you can see a deep and undeniable value, beauty, and creativity that no amount of lies can destroy. You can also just see the lies about who they think they are. Or who you think they are. What you see is your choice. The same goes for yourself. If you look for the truth within you, you will find a deep and undeniable worthiness, beauty, and creativity. Or you can stop short and just see the lies. What you see is your choice. And what you do with what you see is your choice too.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Joshua 7-8: Our Spiritual Identities Are Strengthened by Landmarks and Reminders
We've called Joshua's attack on Jericho a cautionary tale of how fear can discolor inspired ideas. As an image of a strong Israelite leader at the time, though, the character of Joshua fit the bill. He spoke and acted with authority, whether he was punishing someone who had gone against his orders or slaughtering people who didn't believe in his god. His story continues in Joshua 7-8, as Joshua leads the Israelites in claiming by force a land inhabited by people who had legitimately built cities, bred livestock, and raised families. From an outsider's perspective, Joshua was a barbaric warlord who claimed to act on God's authority -- the sort of person we might emulate if we were ambitious narcissists, but not a model of how to create a better world.
Not everything in Joshua's tale needs to be taken as cautionary, however. His leadership demonstrates three important practices that could be of benefit to anyone on a spiritual journey. Joshua has the Israelites create landmarks to commemorate every major event in their communal experience, both the successes and the disappointments. He also adapts to issues within the community by changing his expectations, and he makes a significant event out of reminding the community of their identity. All of these practices are demonstrated in chapters 7 and 8, even in the midst of overseeing a violent invasion.
In the story that is told here, Joshua had commanded his men not to take for themselves any of the spoils of war from Jericho, but not everyone listened. This disobedience resulted in the Israelite soldiers losing a battle against the defending forces of Ai. Joshua does two noteworthy things in this difficult situation. First, he punishes the person who went against his orders, as one would expect from a strong military leader. But the second remarkable thing is that he changes his expectations of the soldiers, commanding that they are free to carry off the livestock and plunder from the next city they attack. After they are victorious, Joshua arranges for the Israelite community to be reminded of their spiritual and cultural identities in a ceremony that recounted the entirety of the law to which they were committed as a people.
At this ceremony, they left relics of the occasion, just as they had done at every significant event since Joshua's leadership began. They left piles of rocks when a significant part of their journey was complete, when a city was successfully destroyed, when a member of their community was punished, every time something memorable happened in the life of the Israelite community. The memorializing of the events presumably made it more difficult to forget them, thus strengthening cultural memory and identity.
Whether or not Joshua was a real person, these are practices that we can adopt in our own lives. We may not be invading cities or sentencing people who disobey us to death by stoning, but we are all on our own journeys. We all struggle from time to time with our identities, especially when there are people around us (or an entire society) with conflicting impressions of who we should be. Standing with conviction about who you are and what you stand for isn't always easy, and it can be helpful to have a few practices in place to reinforce our personal responsibility and integrity.
Just like the Israelites, we occasionally need reminders about who we are. We get into patterns of behavior that can almost become automatic if we let them. Sometimes we are susceptible to what other people expect from us, to the point that we may lose our own integrity in the process of living by someone else's expectations. Taking time to remind ourselves what we believe and what we want our lives to be about can be a powerful reinforcement in our lives, whether it's something we choose to do monthly, weekly, or even daily during times of exceptional duress. Of course, this requires knowing what we believe and understanding who we want to be in the world, which is really what the journey is about anyway.
Based on our beliefs, we set goals for ourselves. Sometimes these goals are very intentional and sometimes we are barely conscious of where we are headed. The more time we spend examining our beliefs and our identities, the more opportunity we have to be aware of what we're expecting of ourselves. When we encounter challenges, whether those challenges are because of our own capability at the time or because other people aren't doing what we expect or want, it's important not to let those challenges overwhelm us. The challenges are there to help us hone our beliefs and expectations, not to punish or restrict us. It may be that we are demanding some unreasonable things from ourselves (or other people), or that our beliefs about ourselves or the world around us are somehow being influenced by our fears. Whatever the case, the challenges we encounter give us an opportunity to assess what we're making important in our lives, whether our expectations are reasonable, and whether there are some changes we can make to better enable us to have lives built on what matters most to us.
Challenges along the journey are rarely outright roadblocks. We are capable of adapting to the challenges, refining our sense of who we are, and aligning ourselves more clearly with the truth, beauty, and creativity within us. Whether we overcome our challenges with ease or we struggle against them, whether we see the immediate results as successes or disappointments, the challenges are worth commemorating. We may not pile stones around our houses and workplaces, but across the landscape of our lives, we can create markers in our minds for significant events and how those events helped to define who we are and what we believe. These significant events may be the kinds of things that are similar in everyone's life -- marriages, births, deaths, the plundering of cities -- or they may be things that are significant because of what you learned about yourself. They landmarks remind us of the pitfalls we have faced and the bridges we have built, and our awareness of them can help prevent fighting the same battles over and over again in our lives.
What we believe may change over time -- if we are growing as human beings, it's likely that our beliefs will grow too -- but what we believe and how those beliefs inform our behavior is always within our control. We are responsible for the lives we create and the impact we have on other people and the world. Establishing spiritual landmarks and taking time to remind ourselves who we are helps us be more aware of that personal responsibility, and our willingness to be flexible as we face challenges with integrity keeps us growing in satisfying ways.
It may be that you are unsure what you believe, and that all of this seems rather impractical or unrealistic. That's a fair critique at this point. It's easy to say "create spiritual landmarks," and it's a much more difficult thing to clearly explain how one might go about doing that. The easy answer is that you already know how to remember significant events and that there is no right or wrong way to remind yourself who you are and what is important to you, as long as you are willing to be honest with yourself. It requires a bit of time away from the distractions of all the other noise -- perhaps a stillness and quiet that can be intimidating if it's unfamiliar. No one can really tell you who you are or what matters to you. I can say with some confidence that the truth about you is not based on any fears you may have, but rather on a deeper, calmer, quieter place within you. The moments when you are aware of the deep truth, beauty, and creativity within you or within other people -- these are the moments worth commemorating. These are the moments that will help you get back to the core of who you are and what matters most in life.
Not everything in Joshua's tale needs to be taken as cautionary, however. His leadership demonstrates three important practices that could be of benefit to anyone on a spiritual journey. Joshua has the Israelites create landmarks to commemorate every major event in their communal experience, both the successes and the disappointments. He also adapts to issues within the community by changing his expectations, and he makes a significant event out of reminding the community of their identity. All of these practices are demonstrated in chapters 7 and 8, even in the midst of overseeing a violent invasion.
In the story that is told here, Joshua had commanded his men not to take for themselves any of the spoils of war from Jericho, but not everyone listened. This disobedience resulted in the Israelite soldiers losing a battle against the defending forces of Ai. Joshua does two noteworthy things in this difficult situation. First, he punishes the person who went against his orders, as one would expect from a strong military leader. But the second remarkable thing is that he changes his expectations of the soldiers, commanding that they are free to carry off the livestock and plunder from the next city they attack. After they are victorious, Joshua arranges for the Israelite community to be reminded of their spiritual and cultural identities in a ceremony that recounted the entirety of the law to which they were committed as a people.
At this ceremony, they left relics of the occasion, just as they had done at every significant event since Joshua's leadership began. They left piles of rocks when a significant part of their journey was complete, when a city was successfully destroyed, when a member of their community was punished, every time something memorable happened in the life of the Israelite community. The memorializing of the events presumably made it more difficult to forget them, thus strengthening cultural memory and identity.
Whether or not Joshua was a real person, these are practices that we can adopt in our own lives. We may not be invading cities or sentencing people who disobey us to death by stoning, but we are all on our own journeys. We all struggle from time to time with our identities, especially when there are people around us (or an entire society) with conflicting impressions of who we should be. Standing with conviction about who you are and what you stand for isn't always easy, and it can be helpful to have a few practices in place to reinforce our personal responsibility and integrity.
Just like the Israelites, we occasionally need reminders about who we are. We get into patterns of behavior that can almost become automatic if we let them. Sometimes we are susceptible to what other people expect from us, to the point that we may lose our own integrity in the process of living by someone else's expectations. Taking time to remind ourselves what we believe and what we want our lives to be about can be a powerful reinforcement in our lives, whether it's something we choose to do monthly, weekly, or even daily during times of exceptional duress. Of course, this requires knowing what we believe and understanding who we want to be in the world, which is really what the journey is about anyway.
Based on our beliefs, we set goals for ourselves. Sometimes these goals are very intentional and sometimes we are barely conscious of where we are headed. The more time we spend examining our beliefs and our identities, the more opportunity we have to be aware of what we're expecting of ourselves. When we encounter challenges, whether those challenges are because of our own capability at the time or because other people aren't doing what we expect or want, it's important not to let those challenges overwhelm us. The challenges are there to help us hone our beliefs and expectations, not to punish or restrict us. It may be that we are demanding some unreasonable things from ourselves (or other people), or that our beliefs about ourselves or the world around us are somehow being influenced by our fears. Whatever the case, the challenges we encounter give us an opportunity to assess what we're making important in our lives, whether our expectations are reasonable, and whether there are some changes we can make to better enable us to have lives built on what matters most to us.
Challenges along the journey are rarely outright roadblocks. We are capable of adapting to the challenges, refining our sense of who we are, and aligning ourselves more clearly with the truth, beauty, and creativity within us. Whether we overcome our challenges with ease or we struggle against them, whether we see the immediate results as successes or disappointments, the challenges are worth commemorating. We may not pile stones around our houses and workplaces, but across the landscape of our lives, we can create markers in our minds for significant events and how those events helped to define who we are and what we believe. These significant events may be the kinds of things that are similar in everyone's life -- marriages, births, deaths, the plundering of cities -- or they may be things that are significant because of what you learned about yourself. They landmarks remind us of the pitfalls we have faced and the bridges we have built, and our awareness of them can help prevent fighting the same battles over and over again in our lives.
What we believe may change over time -- if we are growing as human beings, it's likely that our beliefs will grow too -- but what we believe and how those beliefs inform our behavior is always within our control. We are responsible for the lives we create and the impact we have on other people and the world. Establishing spiritual landmarks and taking time to remind ourselves who we are helps us be more aware of that personal responsibility, and our willingness to be flexible as we face challenges with integrity keeps us growing in satisfying ways.
It may be that you are unsure what you believe, and that all of this seems rather impractical or unrealistic. That's a fair critique at this point. It's easy to say "create spiritual landmarks," and it's a much more difficult thing to clearly explain how one might go about doing that. The easy answer is that you already know how to remember significant events and that there is no right or wrong way to remind yourself who you are and what is important to you, as long as you are willing to be honest with yourself. It requires a bit of time away from the distractions of all the other noise -- perhaps a stillness and quiet that can be intimidating if it's unfamiliar. No one can really tell you who you are or what matters to you. I can say with some confidence that the truth about you is not based on any fears you may have, but rather on a deeper, calmer, quieter place within you. The moments when you are aware of the deep truth, beauty, and creativity within you or within other people -- these are the moments worth commemorating. These are the moments that will help you get back to the core of who you are and what matters most in life.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Joshua 2-6: When Divine Inspiration Gets Sidetracked by Fear
About half of the book of Joshua is folklore about how incredibly successful this man was as a military leader when the Israelites were slaughtering innocent people and taking their land, wealth, and communities. It's difficult for rational people to look upon some of the content as factually viable, since the stories include things like the sun standing still for a day and such. That being said, there is powerful allegorical value in these stories, particularly the first and most highly developed story about the fall of Jericho. These Old Testament stories were written from the standpoint that the Israelites were better than everyone else because God said so, and all the other people who were living in the area around the Jordan River at the time were expendable because they weren't chosen by God. It isn't a stretch from that perspective to draw "spiritual" lessons from the story about trusting God and overcoming enemies through faith. But what if one approaches from a different set of assumptions?
If we start from the belief that all human life is valuable, that people are worthy of respect regardless of their beliefs, Joshua's acts seem deplorable. The Israelites' actions dehumanize their enemies. If we start from a belief in abundance rather than scarcity, it seems at the very least misguided to drive off or kill people just to claim their resources. Yet we still haven't outgrown that behavior in some respects. And if we start from a belief that houses the character of the divine within every human being, Joshua's actions are inspired, representative of the kind of creativity available to any of us if we are willing to tap into our internal resources and trust ourselves. The problem is not with Joshua's outlandish tactics, it's with the fear he entertains regarding the people of Jericho.
One challenge in reading or hearing any sort of story as adults is that we typically have a set of beliefs in place before we determine what the story has to offer. Our opinions of any new information are based on what we already believe about the world, other people, and ourselves. It is nearly impossible for us to approach new information with a truly open mind, free from any beliefs about reality. For many people who grew up in a Christian context, biblical stories were even used to help frame our beliefs about the world, other people, and ourselves, but we weren't really able to understand the nuances of the stories beyond what adults were telling us to believe. As adults, we have the opportunity to reassess our beliefs and to re-contextualize the stories we know or encounter anew.
If it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then we are capable of doing incredible things when we push past the layers of fear that have accumulated over time and embrace that truth, beauty, and creativity within us. With calm patience, we can collapse seemingly insurmountable obstacles that would hold firm in the face of the greatest display of force. Our strength is not in our ability to be violent, but in our ability to be intentional. What happens after the walls come down and we are granted access to new territory, though?
Once again, if it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then this truth should inform all of our dealings with other people. When we seek to do harm to others, we are harming a system of which we ourselves are a part. We cannot bring violence to other people without doing some harm to our own identities and well-being. Honestly, our only reason for intending harm toward others is fear, and that fear is almost always irrational. In Joshua's case, there were likely manifold fears that prevented him from seeing the divinity in the people he conquered. He was afraid that his culture could be corrupted, that his people were too weak to hold to their beliefs in the face of alternative practices. He was afraid of death at the hands of the defenders of the cities the Israelites were assaulting. He was afraid of how his people would see him, whether they would hail him as a hero or reject his authority. Understandable fears, but unnecessary fears.
Joshua is a character of fiction, a bit of folklore to build cultural identity for an ancient people. But we experience fears that may seem insignificant by comparison to a leader of an entire society, and those fears still manage to derail our creativity and inspiration. We fear what people will think of us, and we fear what people will do to us. We fear things about ourselves as well, that we will be found out, revealed as imposters or weaklings. We fear that we have to fight for survival, that we have to defend ourselves at every turn. We learned to fear from a variety of sources, and we have practiced that fear until it frames our reality. We have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and inspiration in the world around us, and we have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and creativity within ourselves. The more ingrained the fear, the more dismantling we need to do to see what is true.
Dismantling fear is easier said than done. Even the prospect of it brings up a whole new onslaught of fears. Our entire society is addicted to fear, and the thought of disregarding fear is counter-cultural to say the least. It will not happen all at once, but as we are willing to see our own beauty and creativity, and as we are willing to see the beauty and inspiration in others, we will build confidence in that truth. We can bring the walls down with confidence and discover ways to make the world a better place rather than a more violent one. We can create a life that serves our most noble intentions rather than our most fearful ones.
The message of Joshua is a cautionary tale. We have within us immense power. When we tap into that divine essence, we can find inspiration to do incredible things in our lives and in the lives of other people. But when we unleash that power out of fear, we can destroy instead of create. We court the power of judgment and death instead of bringing hope and life. We are capable of either path. The difference is that when we identify ourselves as destroyers, we act in defiance of our true nature. The fear that convinces us that destruction is the only option will never bring us satisfaction, peace, happiness. That fear will always be restless. But we are not destroyers. That is not our identity as human beings, no matter what we have been led to believe or what we have accepted as reality. We are creators. At our core we are capable, strong, life-affirming creators. To deny that is to deny our humanity.
If we start from the belief that all human life is valuable, that people are worthy of respect regardless of their beliefs, Joshua's acts seem deplorable. The Israelites' actions dehumanize their enemies. If we start from a belief in abundance rather than scarcity, it seems at the very least misguided to drive off or kill people just to claim their resources. Yet we still haven't outgrown that behavior in some respects. And if we start from a belief that houses the character of the divine within every human being, Joshua's actions are inspired, representative of the kind of creativity available to any of us if we are willing to tap into our internal resources and trust ourselves. The problem is not with Joshua's outlandish tactics, it's with the fear he entertains regarding the people of Jericho.
One challenge in reading or hearing any sort of story as adults is that we typically have a set of beliefs in place before we determine what the story has to offer. Our opinions of any new information are based on what we already believe about the world, other people, and ourselves. It is nearly impossible for us to approach new information with a truly open mind, free from any beliefs about reality. For many people who grew up in a Christian context, biblical stories were even used to help frame our beliefs about the world, other people, and ourselves, but we weren't really able to understand the nuances of the stories beyond what adults were telling us to believe. As adults, we have the opportunity to reassess our beliefs and to re-contextualize the stories we know or encounter anew.
If it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then we are capable of doing incredible things when we push past the layers of fear that have accumulated over time and embrace that truth, beauty, and creativity within us. With calm patience, we can collapse seemingly insurmountable obstacles that would hold firm in the face of the greatest display of force. Our strength is not in our ability to be violent, but in our ability to be intentional. What happens after the walls come down and we are granted access to new territory, though?
Once again, if it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then this truth should inform all of our dealings with other people. When we seek to do harm to others, we are harming a system of which we ourselves are a part. We cannot bring violence to other people without doing some harm to our own identities and well-being. Honestly, our only reason for intending harm toward others is fear, and that fear is almost always irrational. In Joshua's case, there were likely manifold fears that prevented him from seeing the divinity in the people he conquered. He was afraid that his culture could be corrupted, that his people were too weak to hold to their beliefs in the face of alternative practices. He was afraid of death at the hands of the defenders of the cities the Israelites were assaulting. He was afraid of how his people would see him, whether they would hail him as a hero or reject his authority. Understandable fears, but unnecessary fears.
Joshua is a character of fiction, a bit of folklore to build cultural identity for an ancient people. But we experience fears that may seem insignificant by comparison to a leader of an entire society, and those fears still manage to derail our creativity and inspiration. We fear what people will think of us, and we fear what people will do to us. We fear things about ourselves as well, that we will be found out, revealed as imposters or weaklings. We fear that we have to fight for survival, that we have to defend ourselves at every turn. We learned to fear from a variety of sources, and we have practiced that fear until it frames our reality. We have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and inspiration in the world around us, and we have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and creativity within ourselves. The more ingrained the fear, the more dismantling we need to do to see what is true.
Dismantling fear is easier said than done. Even the prospect of it brings up a whole new onslaught of fears. Our entire society is addicted to fear, and the thought of disregarding fear is counter-cultural to say the least. It will not happen all at once, but as we are willing to see our own beauty and creativity, and as we are willing to see the beauty and inspiration in others, we will build confidence in that truth. We can bring the walls down with confidence and discover ways to make the world a better place rather than a more violent one. We can create a life that serves our most noble intentions rather than our most fearful ones.
The message of Joshua is a cautionary tale. We have within us immense power. When we tap into that divine essence, we can find inspiration to do incredible things in our lives and in the lives of other people. But when we unleash that power out of fear, we can destroy instead of create. We court the power of judgment and death instead of bringing hope and life. We are capable of either path. The difference is that when we identify ourselves as destroyers, we act in defiance of our true nature. The fear that convinces us that destruction is the only option will never bring us satisfaction, peace, happiness. That fear will always be restless. But we are not destroyers. That is not our identity as human beings, no matter what we have been led to believe or what we have accepted as reality. We are creators. At our core we are capable, strong, life-affirming creators. To deny that is to deny our humanity.
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