by Brian Godawa
As Caleb got caught up into his descriptions they turned more into a narrative as if they were right there in the tent watching it all. “Eleazer opens that curtain with trembling hands, protected by his incense, to stand before the ark of the covenant. The ark is about three and a half feet long by two feet wide and high, and made of acacia wood overlaid with finely crafted gold.”
Now, his voice became more hushed with trembling. “Inside the ark are the very tablets of the law carved by the hand of Yahweh; a golden jar of the ‘bread of heaven’ and Aaron’s rod.”
The bread of heaven was the manna that never spoiled, and Aaron’s rod was his staff that blossomed miraculously, confirming Aaron’s Levitical priesthood.
Caleb continued in his whisper as if he and Achsah were in the very presence. “The cover of the ark hosts two sculpted images of sphinx-like cherubim with their wings spread over the ‘mercy seat,’ the symbol of Yahweh’s heavenly throne.”
“Eleazer sprinkles blood from his sacrifice onto the mercy seat, the final act that brings propitiation for the high priest. He then returns outside to act on behalf of the peoples’ interest.”
They saw Eleazer step outside of the tent. Caleb was recounting it exactly as it happened in real time.
Eleazer took two goats and threw lots.
Caleb explained, “Now, he decides which goat will be sacrificed to Yahweh on behalf of Israel. He follows the same procedures as he did for himself with the blood of the chosen goat to propitiate for the sins of the people.”
Eleazer slew the goat at the altar.
But what happened next fascinated Caleb the most. The second goat was kept alive. Eleazer took his bloody hands and placed them onto the live goat’s head.
Caleb said, “He confesses the sins of Israel as a ritual means of transferring them onto the goat.”
Another priest then led the goat out of the tabernacle and away from the camp.
Caleb commented, “He is sending the scapegoat into the wilderness to send it to Azazel.”
The only thing Caleb really knew of Azazel was that he was one of the fallen Sons of God who was supposedly bound into the earth in the desert. Why on earth would that monster be a part of Yahweh’s Day of Atonement?
Caleb reasoned that since the goat was not killed, but kept alive, it was not a sacrifice to Azazel.
He continued to Achsah, “The desert to us is tohu wabohu, a place of chaos that is unformed and unfilled. When we crossed the Red Sea, Yahweh had promised us that he would crush the heads of Leviathan and Rahab and create the heavens and the earth out of the chaos.” This was another way of saying that Yahweh would establish his kingdom covenant order out of the disorder and lawlessness that was Canaan.
Sending the goat out into the desert to Azazel, was not an offering to the damnable goat demon, but rather it was a banishment of Israel’s sin to the realm of chaos outside Yahweh’s kingdom—the same realm of Azazel.
One could almost consider it a compounding of sins onto Azazel to magnify his judgment.
This high holy day filled Caleb with wonder and awe at the glory and beauty of Yahweh’s picture of atonement. It was his only hope for acceptance and inclusion into the Children of Abraham, and he prayed his daughter would cherish that hope as well.
Caleb’s tribe was originally the pagan Kenizzites who were descended from Esau, the cursed brother of Jacob. Yahweh had chosen Jacob over Esau to be the one to carry the seedline of the Children of Abraham. Even though Caleb’s entire tribe had converted and joined the Israelites, only blood atonement seemed to convince Caleb that he had any chance of being truly accepted into the family of Yahweh. That is why it was so beautiful to him.
It was a holy sacrament of poetry, music, and art.
Joshua did not care for poetry, music or art, so he began to snore. Caleb nudged him to spare him the embarrassment and Joshua jerked his head awake with a quick glance around.
“It is over,” whispered Caleb. “You are forgiven.”
“Thanks,” Joshua muttered. “I owe you.”
Caleb gave him a scolding look and said, “It is not me you owe.”
• • • • •
The people had returned to their daily lives. One aspect of that daily life was the accumulation of manna every morning.
Joshua’s wife Hasina took their children out into the desert outside the camp to gather the manna, along with hundreds of others. It was a fun time for the young ones as they trampled about trying to collect more of the “what is it” than their fellow rivals.
There were always a handful of warriors to watch over the women and children. Most of them stood bored at the edge of the camp.
But Hasina noticed that Othniel, who was one of the guardians today, was hovering over Achsah, giving her special attention. They were chatting and laughing and he even carried her basket for her.
Hasina could see that Othniel’s tenderness and affection toward Achsah was an interest that was clearly more than guardianship. The only problem was that Othniel was just too shy to let his intentions be made known. Achsah was certainly of marrying age, but no doubt their age difference was an obstacle for Othniel’s confidence.
Hasina smiled to herself and thought, Men. He is an accomplished warrior, but when it comes to love, he has not a clue.
Near the outer edges was a small group of about six children racing around competing with each other. Joshua’s five-year-old son, Efram, was in the lead; his little bronze pot for accumulating the manna was almost full.
But he was getting too far away from the rest of the gatherers. Hasina noticed it and started to call for him.
“Efram! Efram, you are too far! Come back closer to the group!”
But Efram did not listen. He was so intent on his mighty quest, that he kept scanning until he found the biggest bunch of manna he had ever seen. It was just near a ridge. He ran over to it and began to fill his pot. This would be it. This would be the winning batch!
The sun’s rising from the east glared into his eyes as he grabbed and grabbed at the heavenly bread.
But then a shadow suddenly came over him and he could see more clearly. He smiled.
He looked up and saw the silhouetted figure of a tall man standing before him, blocking the rays of the sun.
He was a broad and burly man.
He was carrying a shield and spear.
He was a warrior.
But he was not an Israelite warrior.
He was a Canaanite.
Hasina’s scream brought Efram out of his stupor.
“EFRAM! RUN!”
But when Efram turned back to the warrior, a dozen other warriors suddenly surrounded him. They were coming up from below the ridge where he was.
He dropped the pot of manna to the ground, spilling out his winning collection, now completely forgotten by him as he ran for his life back to his mother.
The warriors were on horses.
There were hundreds of them.
And they went after the women and children.
The warriors captured some of the innocents by using nets, and others, by simply picking them off the ground like a mighty bird of prey might do with a defenseless rodent.
The Israelite guardians tried to fight on behalf of the children, but they were so overwhelmed, they were almost all slaughtered.
Joshua was leading battle exercises in the desert on the complete opposite side of the camp. The leadership under the general consisted of commanders of thousands and commanders of hundreds and of fifties. The basic fighting unit of Israelites was a five-man squad who trained together and fought together as a team.
Those squads were in the middle of practicing their skills when a messenger came on horseback to give the news to Joshua of the Canaanite attack.
The soldiers were already equipped and warmed up for a fight. But they were also on the opposite side of the camp, far away from the site of attack.
By the time they arrived, it was too late.
The Canaan
ites had killed hundreds and had kidnapped two hundred others.
It was an atrocity. A slaughter of innocents.
Joshua and Caleb sought to gather whatever intelligence they could before they went after the raiders.
As they walked through the bloody carnage, surveying the hacked up and bludgeoned bodies of women and children, a righteous anger welled up within Joshua.
Caleb could not help scanning for his daughter. But she was nowhere to be found.
Some of the surviving women and older children told them about the men and their swords, and nets, and merciless cruelty. There was nothing distinctive about them. They were Canaanite desert marauders, dressed in typical animal skins, leather armor, and they went north.
Tracking the monsters would be the easy part.
Some of the soldiers had found their loved ones dead and were weeping over them.
Joshua was grateful he had not seen his family. That increased his chances that they would be hostages to be rescued. But he could not give in to his desire to complete his search, for that would place his personal interests above the nation, which was of greater importance.
He was about to announce his command to pursue the Canaanite murdering kidnappers, when he heard the voice of Othniel shout out, “Caleb!”
Joshua jerked around to see Caleb running toward a young girl kneeling on the ground holding the body of a woman and weeping.
The girl was Achsah. She was alive.
Othniel was standing over them with bloody sword drawn, nursing an arm wound.
Caleb grabbed her and held her tightly.
Joshua approached the three of them.
But he stopped twenty feet from them.
At his feet lay the body of a little boy.
Efram.
A fireball of pain arose in Joshua’s soul and his knees buckled. He felt dizzy.
But something in him told him he had to continue.
He picked up the broken body of his son and cradled him in his arms as he continued toward Caleb, Achsah, and Othniel.
They were now looking at Joshua with eyes of fear.
Joshua trembled as he drew near.
And when he arrived by the three of them, he saw the two bodies on the ground that Achsah had been crying over.
They were Joshua’s daughter and his wife, Hasina.
He stared down at them like stone.
He lowered the body of his son to group them together.
Caleb and Achsah moved back to give Joshua room.
Joshua arranged them together with stoic rigidity as Othniel explained what had happened.
“We were ambushed by a band of Canaanite marauders. There must have been several hundred. The other guards were killed. Hundreds were kidnapped.”
Caleb knew his daughter was only alive and safe because of Othniel’s protection.
Joshua could not allow himself to break down. He was trembling holding back the tsunami of pain in his soul.
But he had to lead the armies of the Lord, and he could not fail his nation for his own personal loss. There would be plenty of time to grieve and wail later.
He grabbed the sleeve of his tunic and ripped it with gritted teeth. It was the act of grief most familiar to them all.
He could not stop the flood of emotion that invaded his mind. This woman, this precious treasure, had brought such happiness and grace into his life. Despite the miracles of Yahweh’s presence and deliverance through all these years, she had been the most vivid proof of Yahweh’s shepherding concern for him. In her love, he understood love and was changed by it.
Her softness of body and soul was completely alien to him, his complete opposite. Yet, in that way, she balanced him, kept him from becoming the cruel and heartless monster he knew he could become. Her precious smile and embrace made this warrior weak in the knees.
And these children, so young, the fruit of their love together. He could remember cradling their frail little infant bodies in his arms when they were born. His hopes for them had been so high. His sorrow was magnified by the fact that he knew he was too hard on them, too demanding, too impatient. They were Yahweh’s way of pounding the selfishness out of his own soul. And in their youthful flaws he could see himself before his heavenly father. His own imperfection, his own selfish demands and need for guidance and wisdom. They taught him as much about his heavenly father’s love for him as any of the sacrifices could.
But now they were all dead.
They were slaughtered by evil, and along with them, Joshua’s love.
Joshua got up from his knees and looked out into the distance in the direction of their enemies.
He announced to the soldiers around him, “Commanders of thousands, commanders of hundreds! Delay your grief, and let us hunt down these Canaanite cowards, rescue the hostages, and may Yahweh’s justice roll down like waters!”
The men shouted and gathered for the chase.
But only those next to him could hear Joshua’s next words.
“Yahweh, if you will give this people into my hand, I will devote their cities to complete destruction. I will kill every last one of them, man, woman and child.”
Joshua looked over and caught Caleb staring at him. It felt to them both as if time itself had stopped and they saw into each other’s being.
Caleb knew Joshua better than anyone, and he could see that something inside of Joshua had changed.
It was frightening. Joshua had always been a warrior soul of discipline and strength. But his family had been the love that anchored him in God’s grace.
Now, it was as if that only vestige of grace in his life had been murdered, ripped out of him.
And all that was left was a man of war.
It only took Joshua’s army a couple of hours to track the Canaanites down to a confederation of several closely linked villages north in the Negeb. The area was called Arad and had a population of about three thousand people, with about a thousand warriors.
Joshua descended upon the villages with four thousand men. There was no delay, no preparation, and no negotiations for hostages. They simply fell upon Arad’s first city and mercilessly slaughtered all its inhabitants. When the other villages came to the help of their sister population, Joshua turned, spread out, and cut them down.
It was overwhelming to experience, even for Caleb and Othniel. Yahweh was clearly empowering them for massive victory. They had truly swept over these Canaanites like the rolling waters of justice. They had been Yahweh’s tidal wave of devastation.
And true to his vow, Joshua devoted the entire coalition of Arad to destruction, every man, woman, and child.
They rescued two hundred of their women and children who had been taken hostage, and returned to the encampment of Israel.
Chapter 12
Less than twenty miles north of Arad was the city of Kiriath-arba. It was the stronghold of the Anakim where King Hoham ruled and the Sons of Anak were uncontested.
The Anakim were a giant clan whose legendary height was “as tall as the cedars,” with extra-long muscular necks to match their frightening presence. But their strength and skill at fighting was even more frightful as the saying was known all through Canaan, “Who can stand before the sons of Anak?”
Of all the giant clans of Canaan—the Rephaim, the Emim, the Zuzim, and others—the Anakim were the most fierce. They worshipped the god of power, Ba’al the most high deity of the pantheon. And that power worship caused pressure to build, tempers to flare, and fights to explode within their own ranks.
To create a cathartic release for their social unrest, they built the Pit of Death, as a place to work out their hostilities through contests of power.
Whether it was for a criminal offense, a family feud, or a highhanded insult, Anakim could challenge one another to duels to the death. They could be between two or three or any number of opponents so long as the numbers were equal for competing interests.
The Pit was a circular arena dug into the earth about two hundred feet in
diameter, with ascending slopes for the audience to sit on and watch the entertainment. They nicknamed it “the Gilgamesh Arena” in honor of the ancient gibbor, Gilgamesh of Uruk, a Mesopotamian giant king who would satisfy his own restless power by challenging his citizens in contests of combat. If anyone could best him they would win the right to be his Right Hand of the kingdom. But the difference with that battleground and this one was that in the Pit of Death, only one came out alive.
In the Pit this day were four Anakim. It was three against one. But this was not an uneven fight because the one who stood before the three was Ahiman, right hand of General Abi-yamimu. He was the largest, most fierce of the Anakim. At fifteen feet tall and twelve hundred pounds of pure muscle, he struck terror into anyone who faced him in combat.
The three who were facing him today were imposing as well. Two were the personal bodyguards of their king, Hoham, and they were mighty warriors, all between nine and ten feet tall, with necks and arms of iron, the finest of fighters.
But the third was General Abi-yamimu, or Abi, Ahiman’s own superior in the army.
The reason for this unusual contest was that Ahiman had claimed to uncover a plot for a coup against the king between these two bodyguards and General Abi. They denied it and charged that Ahiman had a secret agenda that fueled his lies. He wanted to take their place of power beside the king.
As Abi’s right hand and the fiercest warrior in the land, Ahiman’s reputation was impeccable. But so were the reputations of the General and the bodyguards. And the evidence was not strong enough to indict.
In this warrior culture of honor, such unresolved disputes were often settled by duels. When a warrior’s reputation was so impugned he felt he could only clear his name of dishonor by proving Ba’al’s favor in a battle to the death. So the General and his bodyguards challenged their accuser to a duel in the Pit to clear their names.
Ahiman demanded that there would be no weapons. It would be hand-to-hand combat.
This was very personal.
The three of them waited in the Pit for Ahiman to arrive. Abi was quick and nimble, well studied in tactics. His strategic ability to understand the enemy and anticipate battle maneuvers earned him his prized status through many victories. He was also a master of swordplay. Unfortunately that would do him no good today, as there would be no weapons.