Commentary on Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25

The covenant renewal narrated in Joshua 24:14–25 offers preachers the challenge of re-presenting its ancient rhetorical claims to contemporary audiences. As with last Sunday’s passage (Joshua 3:7–17), we see Joshua acting like Moses (see also verses 24–25 and Exodus 24:7). The passage itself is an example of how the book of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic history (Joshua–Kings) that follows it address multiple readers/hearers far beyond the original narrative horizon.

One challenge in following the progression of Joshua’s back-and-forth with the people is the repeated undercutting by Joshua of what he or the people have just said, which flow I have attempted to summarize as follows:

• Joshua: “Serve the LORD! But if you don’t want to, here are two bad alternatives.” (verses 14–15)
• The people: “No way, we will serve the LORD.” (verses 16–18)
• Joshua: “You can’t.” (verses 19–20)
• The people: “No, we will.” (verse 21)
• Joshua: “OK, fine, but …” (verses 22–23)
• The people: “Read our lips.” (verse 24)
• Joshua: “Here you go.” (verse 25)

This is not the last time a representative for God will give in to what the people want, even though it will end badly (see also the people’s demand for a king in 1 Samuel 8).

Joshua’s opening (verses 14–15) seems compromised because he offers only one clear and viable option, but immediately turns around and dilutes it by adding two invalid options in the gods of the east (Mesopotamia) versus the gods of the west (Canaan). The most rhetorically potent line in the entire passage comes in connection with these two null options: “Choose this day whom you will serve.” But this line sets up Joshua’s answer: “But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD” (verse 15). Perhaps there is rhetorical wisdom we can learn from this progression!

Jesus gets at the core issue in this passage when he teaches that “no one can serve two masters, for a slave will either hate the one and love the other or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth” (Matthew 6:24; see also Luke 16:13). Servitude (if not outright enslavement) to wealth was clearly a perennial danger, as he explained the seeds sown among thorns: “The cares of the age and the lure of wealth and the desire for other things come in and choke the word, and it yields nothing” (Mark 4:19; see also Matthew 13:22). 

Every generation needs to repeatedly heed the call to put away other gods. Similar to an antiracist stance that must be renewed regularly, anti-idolatrism requires constant vigilance and recommitment. What are the comfortable, convenient, possibly familiar gods of our age that we have trouble discarding?

I often find that preparing messages for young children is more challenging than writing sermons for adolescents and adults. I will repeatedly go over my prepared words to try to eliminate or minimize abstractions, in order to make things concrete, clear, and simple. I’m pretty sure, though, that if and when I have succeeded in having a meaningful interaction with children during service, I will also have succeeded in engaging the “eavesdropping” older people. 

In the same way, Joshua’s exchanges with the people are patently for the benefit of succeeding generations, including us. This is perhaps the great rhetorical achievement of the biblical writers: that what they wrote and spoke still lays claim to us in the 21st century as it has for every generation before us. The failures of people and God’s judgment and discipline on them in the Bible provide us, if we have ears to hear, a script for how we can repent—how we can do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God today.

That said, we know it is true that people often have trouble responding to concrete, clear, and simple invitations. When Jesus invited a man to sell all he had, give to the poor, and then come follow him, “he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions” (Mark 10:22; see also Luke 18:23). The good news is that our ability to follow Jesus does not depend on us, but on God (Mark 10:27; Luke 18:27).

When I was a student at Princeton Theological Seminary, one of my regular rituals was checking my student mailbox. Once, I looked up and noticed a sign above the bank of boxes: “The main thing is keeping the main thing the main thing.” That was about 30 years ago, and that little saying has stuck with me as a way to capture the constant challenge of staying focused and, by implication, how easily we are distracted. 

The Israelites had a tradition of covenants that probably functioned as traditional religion. There were God’s covenants with Noah (Genesis 9), with Abram (Genesis 15 and 17), with the patriarchs (Exodus 2:24), and with Israel at Horeb/Sinai (Exodus 19 and following) and again in the land of Moab (Deuteronomy 29). So perhaps this covenant in Shechem was just another agreement to add to their collection, to become part of the tradition in the rearview mirror, as it were, to be recited and reviewed periodically. 

The church has likewise accrued numerous historical creeds, confessions, and catechisms, the majority of which are probably viewed as faded relics. Looking back over thousands of years, what do we discern as the “main thing,” the unifying thread (assuming there is one) that connects all of these disparate documents and the occasions that gave rise to them? Or to widen the angle further, what primary relationships of trust and obedience do we discern in human history, which includes church history? How might Joshua 24 help us grapple with what it means to be communities that take covenantal commitments seriously?

Congregations make covenantal promises to love and support those the church baptizes, ordains, and marries. Keeping such promises is much harder than simply answering in unison, “We do.” And yet, our failures should not be an argument against making promises, for promise-making is itself an exercise of faith, relying “not on ourselves, but on God, who raises the dead” (2 Corinthians 1:9). In baptism and the eucharist, the common elements of water, bread, and wine act as visible keepers of the promises of God. Thanks be to God!