Today’s story (Joshua 3:7-17) is a story of invasion, of the Israelite nation moving into territory that is already claimed by other nations. Today on Remembrance Sunday, what do we do with this story? How do find God in this story of invasion, without revisiting a kind of nationalistic Christianity that says that God, king, and country are the same: that leads us to believe that war is justified when it’s against people who are not the same as us?
Do we read this story as justification for the dominion of Israel over Palestine as Israelis continue to claim more and more territory, in a conflict that has built up to the atrocity that it is today? Or do we look at this story with a sense of despair, recognising that around the world, we have all been making the same mistakes in the name of God, for thousands of years? Or do we treat this story as a kind of morality tale, warning us against this sort of mentality? Or do we read the story critically, resisting the tone of victory and triumph, and instead condemning the writer’s misrepresentation of God? How do we approach this story, being critically and morally astute, being true to the God of love and peace whom we have personally encountered, while still honouring this invasion story as part of our sacred scriptures?
I think we need to start by recognising that we always understand God through our own lens; that the Israelites in the time of Joshua, and centuries later when these stories being written down, had a different focus to us as Christians in the 21st century; that the way we understand God at work in the world will be influenced by our different understanding of how we see the world.
The way the story is told, in the time of Joshua, there is a group of people who have fled a place of slavery, and have spent decades wandering the wilderness. In that time, they have grown in numbers and strength; they have received laws to live by and have developed some societal structures, and now they have come to a place where they can settle. For the people writing this story, there is some argument exactly when this happens, but there’s a general consensus that it’s being written sometime near the exile in Babylon, where many Israelites are displaced from their homeland. In each case, the Israelites of the time relate to this story as a story about connection to a particular place as being the fulfillment of God’s promise. The Promised Land is exactly that, God’s promise.
When you’re living in the wilderness or in exile, you need to have stories that remind you that God has a promise for you; that God has something better in store for you; that this present wilderness is not your final destination.
I think that’s where we as Christians might gain some life from this story. For us, the Promised Land is not a physical place. Jesus talks about a Promised Land, a kingdom of God, as a way of being, a way of living, for the whole world: it’s the vision for the world that Jesus prays for when he prays, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”
In our own present wilderness, that’s what the Promised Land is for us, and it’s not tied to a particular piece of dirt. We talked a couple of weeks ago about what the kingdom of heaven might look like. We talked the absence of poverty and war and conflict: a world without injustice or prejudice. We talked about a world of tolerance, a world where people care for each other, a world where everyone is valued and everyone is loved.
I think that’s where this story can resonate strongly for us, because between that kingdom of heaven and here, between that Promised Land and this present world of ours, there is a huge river of fear and doubt in the way.
I could help bring about that paradise. After all, there are people who are homeless while I have a few spare rooms; people who have no bed, while I have several spare beds. There are people who have no food while we often end up throwing away leftovers. There are refugees fleeing persecution; there are people suffering from loneliness; there are people who are grieving and lost. If I truly believed in the kingdom of heaven, I could do something about all of that.
But fear and doubt get in the way. I’m afraid that I will be taken advantage of. I’m afraid that a stranger will want to harm me. I’m afraid of losing the security that I’ve built around myself, both physically and financially. We can talk about the kingdom of heaven; we can talk about God’s hope and promise for us; but it won’t happen until we can become vulnerable with all our neighbours, and that is scary. That’s like stepping into a wild and raging river. There’s a chance you’re going to get swept away by that.
So most of will wade in where it’s still reasonably safe. We’ll step in to the point where we’re not risking anything of ourselves, whether it be giving a bit to a charity, or helping out a neighbour who’s in need. Don’t get me wrong; these are all good things. When we start to wade into the water, we start to get a glimpse of the kingdom of heaven. When we start to wade into those scary waters, we get a glimpse of the beauty of heaven; we start to get a sense of what life could be like when everyone is loved and cared for.
But we also come a little closer to the scary depths. This morning, there are some of our mob who are at a thanksgiving service for Uniting Aid, because they sacrifice some of their time and energy to help those struggling with poverty and debt. They can tell us stories about how scary it can be to become too vulnerable working in that environment.
So that’s where we’re at. We fervently want to believe in the kingdom of heaven, to believe in that Promised Land. And most of us are prepared to wade a bit of the way into that river that separates this world from that one. But to ask us to step in all the way, to ask us to risk being swept away entirely, that’s too big an ask. So we settle for wading in and at least catching a glimpse of what life could be like on the other side.
At the same time though, we need to recognise those who have followed the way of Jesus all the way. There are some who believe in the promise so fully that they give their all for it, who make themselves completely vulnerable, who dive completely into the river, trusting in God to keep them from being swept away.
I think of famous people from history like Martin Luther King Jr, like Mother Theresa, like Jim Wallis, like so many others who have given their all for the sake of the kingdom. But I also think of those whose names I don’t necessarily know. I think of the many humanitarian aid workers, emergency services workers, peace activists and protesters, missionaries and remote health workers: all sorts of people who give their all for the sake of the kingdom. And with each of these, there is always the risk of them being drowned by the river, overwhelmed by the load of what they do to help us all get to the kingdom.
I know that God goes with each one of them. I know that they are there because I’m not, and so as the people of God, we must support them, praying for them, encouraging them, supporting them, praying that God will hold back the deluge until more can step in, until finally, together, we might reach the Promised Land.
So today, on Remembrance Sunday, when we speak of sacrifice, let’s remember those who give their all for the sake of God’s promise, for the sake of the kingdom of God, and to be inspired by them.
Lest we forget.
Amen.