Bob Hubbard is Professor of Biblical Literature at North Park Theological Seminary. His commentary on Joshua (Zondervan) will appear in April, 2009.
As a Christian, I don’t think that I’ll ever be comfortable with all the killing in the book of Joshua. At least, that’s one of the conclusions I drew after recently finishing a commentary on the book of Joshua. This blog—the first one I’ve ever written, by the way—gives me a chance to articulate some of my thinking on the thorny problem of violence in Joshua. If past experience is any guide, some of my reflections may draw fire like a duck flying through a blind of waiting hunters.
In one sense, my discomfort with Joshua may be a good sign. Its roots may go back to the influence of the ethic of nonviolence taught and modeled by Jesus on my own attitude toward violence. It may also reflect how much Jesus has formed my perception of the character of God as loving. Conversations on Joshua with people in churches and with students in classes reflect similar shaping—and similar moral queasiness at the thought of God mandating the annihilation of the Canaanites.
On the other hand, I confess some second thoughts on that conclusion. The fact is that the Bible clearly claims that God in fact ordered such a policy. Further, theologically I affirm, with Psalm 24:1, that “the earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” I accept without qualms the claim of Psalm 104:29 that God may occasionally terrify people and deprive them of breath. Frankly, in my view such verses imply that, as Creator, God owns all lands and all their populations and, hence, can do with lands and peoples as he pleases. I don’t like the idea—and neither do most people with whom I’ve discussed it—but the Bible seems unapologetic about reporting that God, for his own purposes, takes human life. It affirms that he even has the right to do so.
There’s something about Christian objections to God’s annihilation policy that also troubles me. Such objections seem to reflect our embarrassment over God’s violent actions, as if in so doing God had somehow misbehaved and offended us. In my ears, they remind me of a parent unhappy with a child for getting in a fist fight on the playground. I sense behind them some standard—some “Thou shalt not”—to which we expect God to conform and by which we feel justified in judging his “violations.” My hunch is that lurking behind such oft-voiced indignation stands our common human urge to play God. In other words, implicitly it claims, “Were we in charge, we’d do things differently, if not better.”
My study of Joshua has also led me to one other conclusion on the matter. The survival of Rahab and the Gibeonites attest that the annihilation policy was not an absolute one. In fact, literarily Joshua contrasts their receptive dealings with Israel with those of the kings who rally troops to annihilate Israel. As several scholars note, the book emphasizes that Israel rightly reciprocated such receptivity, whereas the rebellious kings were rightly routed. The book itself says such exceptions are “OK” in God’s eyes.
Further thoughts on this thorny subject must await another occasion. But for the record, let me state categorically where I stand on violence: I’m against it.
Bob Hubbard

This post was contributed by 