After meeting with the angelic “commander of the army of the LORD,” Joshua and the Israelites famously march seven times around the walls of Jericho, blow some horns, and the walls come tumbling down. Then:
“They devoted the city to the LORD and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it—men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys (Jos 6:21).”
Ouch. Here we have one of the most memorably barbaric acts perpetrated by God’s Chosen People in their bloody quest to conquer the Canaanite peoples and claim the Promised Land. After Jericho, town after town, kingdom after kingdom, the Jews will continue to slaughter men, women, and children; by some estimates in the millions.
It’s no accident that one of the most potent weapons in Israel’s arsenal today is a nuclear ballistic missile named the Jericho.
Only Bible readers who wear the thickest rose-colored glasses can fail to notice all the blood and violence that fill its pages. But if we are observant and curious readers who DO notice, how can we help but ask why? Why this abundance of violence and blood in the Holy Writ of two religions whose primary tenets are peace and good will toward others?
Alas, violence plays a key role in the birth of both Judaism and Christianity.
Judaism was born out of the violence that is slavery, and subsequently out of the violent deaths of thousands of foot soldiers in Pharaoh's army when Yahweh brought the walls of the sea down upon them.
Likewise Christianity was born out of the violence that is the crucifixion, bought and paid for by the tortured body and flowing blood of Christ. Flesh and blood that will constitute sacramental sustenance for generations of believers to come.
But all sustenance, even the most common, necessarily begins with violence. We slaughter the steer. We quarter the hog. We pull living roots and vegetables out of the earth (OK, I’m a tree-hugger). Our common sustenance – that which feeds our body and sates our pangs of physical hunger – is born of death and violence. Our spiritual sustenance – that which sustains the soul and essence – is also born of violence. The ironies of body and soul, of life and – it’s dark and inevitable antithesis – death.
“Everything that has a beginning has an end.” - the Oracle; Matrix Revolutions
Thus since blood & violence and blood & flesh are the paving stones of the Judeo-Christian paths, it should come as no surprise that the writings that underpin these two religions are comparably brutal.
Sacrifice, a central tenet of Judaism and Christianity, is implicitly violent. A young bullock is killed, its throat slit, its blood drained. The animal struggles until its death-throes cease. Its blood, a source of purification, is sprinkled on the altar.
In the Christian Bible we confront the cruel and bloody sacrifice of Jesus Christ, God's own son – the ultimate act of violence. Death brought on, slowly, by exposure to the scorching sun. Sun that sears and blisters the flesh. Brought on by exposure to scavenger birds, who – perching with sharp talons on naked and bloodstained shoulders – peck out eyes. Brought on by exposure to scavenger dogs that bite and rip the flesh of the lower legs and feet, mercifully expediting death. And finally brought on by asphyxiation – breathe in, but can't breathe out.
So why all the violence?
Some posit that the Canaanites were unredeemable, forever dead in sin, and deserving of annihilation.
Some suggest that God’s motives here are unknowable, and – above all – unquestionable, yet worthy of worship and – admittedly – a certain quotient of blind faith.
Some choose – it would seem – to completely ignore the topic altogether, insomuch as it doesn’t offer any practical advice on how to maintain healthy relationships, overcome addictions, or address any of the other vapidly pragmatic issues we deal with between birth and death.
Some choose to discount the historicity of these Old Testament accounts altogether, imagining they are metaphorical, mythological, or even entirely fabricated.
I think they are warnings to all listeners, readers, and believers of the dire and mortal consequences of sin and disobedience, and an enduring testament to the very harsh realities of a life perpetrated on, or fueled by, and ultimately concluded by, physical death.
Paul tells us there is no forgiveness of sins without the shedding of blood (Heb. 9:22). Faith, hope, and love may be the cardinal virtues, and they may be the enduring message, but the overriding theme of the Bible is the historic battle between good and evil. The tension between light and dark. And THAT battle, I can tell you, is “rated ‘R’ for intense and persistent graphic violence.”
In conclusion, we must fully experience the mysterious mix of dark and light in the pages of the Bible. Too many have shied away from the violence and difficulties of the real text, and instead of wrestling with the terrible and eternal verities that lie therein, have fed on “Bible Lite.”
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