Scarlet Cord

Joshua 2:8-21

December 10, 2023 • Mount Pleasant UMC

It was in late 1952 that an aspiring author named Ian Fleming showed his first attempt at a novel to a friend of his who was in the publishing business. The novel had been written earlier that year as a way to distract Fleming from the stress of his upcoming wedding. That friend took the novel to a publisher who did not like the story very much, but eventually published it begrudgingly. The book was Casino Royale, the first in what eventually became a series of twelve novels and two short story collections featuring the British spy Bond. James Bond. Fleming had been fascinated with the life and work of spies while he was serving in the Second World War, and Bond became sort of a composite of all the people he had met. Fleming was apparently not alone in his fascination with the world of spies, because his twelve novels have spawned twenty-five movies, comic strips, and several more novels written by other authors. James Bond is the fifth-highest grossing movie series in history, mainly because people remain fascinated by the work of spies.

Spycraft is an ancient practice. In today’s text we find two spies sent by the Hebrew leader Joshua into a town that the Hebrew army is about to attack. He tells these two spies, “Go, look over the land, especially Jericho” (2:1), because the city of Jericho was absolutely critical to a successful campaign if the Hebrews were going to conquer the land. It could not be bypassed (cf. Coleson, “Joshua,” Cornerstone Biblical Commentary, Vol. 3, pg. 47). And it was in that city of Jericho where these two spies met a woman named Rahab.

This Advent, we are doing something a little different from the norm. We are looking at the four women who are listed in Matthew’s account of the genealogy of Jesus, and we’re asking what they have to teach us. It would have been very unusual to include any women in an ancient Hebrew genealogy, but in Jesus’ we get four. And they are four women who are not necessarily the sort of people you would want to tell stories about at family reunions. Last week we began with Tamar, a woman who tricked her father-in-law into getting her pregnant, and this week we move on to Rahab, who lived in Jericho and practiced the world’s oldest profession. Rahab is identified all throughout Scripture as a prostitute.

So Joshua sends these spies from the Hebrew camp into Jericho. Jericho is an oasis in the midst of the desert, and it still boasts that it is the oldest city in the world. It’s a thousand feet below sea level, surrounded by a barren landscape, way too hot in the summer (it was 122 degrees in the shade one summer when I was there), but fairly nice in the winter (Goldingay, Joshua, Judges & Ruth for Everyone, pg. 12). It was founded next to a spring that still flows, and because of its water source in the midst of the desert, it was and is a key city in the land. If you’re Joshua and you’re going to take over the promised land, you need to take control of Jericho first. Now, Joshua didn’t yet know how they were going to conquer the land, so he sends spies to check out the defenses, the state of the people, what the army is like and so on. Of course, it turns out he really doesn’t need any of that information because, in the end, God is going to fight the battle for him. But he doesn’t know that yet. And so in the spies go.

They don’t slip in unnoticed, however. And when the king of Jericho is told that there are spies in his city, he knows there is one place they would be: Rahab’s house. Rahab the prostitute’s house. So what are good Hebrew spies doing staying in a prostitute’s house? Though she is remembered over and over again in the Bible as a prostitute, Rahab was probably also the town’s innkeeper. The Hebrew word for “prostitute” is close to the word for “female who gives food and provisions.” The ancient Jewish historian Josephus called Rahab an innkeeper, so it’s likely she owned the only inn in town, and that inn doubled as a brothel. There is no indication that the Hebrew spies availed themselves of her services, but where else would you go to stay than in the local inn? After all, inns like this were “clearinghouses for gossip.” Not only would they be able to get lodging for the night, they would also be able to learn what’s going on in town. Trouble is, where else would the king’s men look for strangers in town than at the local inn (cf. DeMuth, The Most Misunderstood Women of the Bible, pg. 65; Bream, The Women of the Bible Speak, pg. 146; Coleson 47)?

Thankfully, the spies had Rahab on their side. She has heard the stories of the Hebrews. As the innkeeper and local gossip collector, she’s heard people coming through talking about the fear that has come over the land, knowing that this God the Hebrews worship is giving them this land. She’s heard about them crossing the Sea many years ago, and how they defeated the Amorites (2:9-10). And that has brought her to this conclusion: “Your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below” (2:11). And because of that conclusion, she has decided she wants to be on their side when their army gets to Jericho. So she hides and protects the spies when the king’s men come looking for them, even going so far as to send those looking for the spies on a wild goose chase out into the desert. She lies to the king’s men to protect the spies, and every parent sort of cringes at that part of the story. Is this an instance of “the ends justifies the means”? Actually, it’s more a matter of us applying our sense of “truth” and “falsehood” to an ancient story where the same definitions did not exist. For Rahab, and for Israel for that matter, “truth” was defined as “loyalty toward the neighbor and the Lord,” not as mere “agreement with fact” (Coleson 47). So in hiding the spies and in misdirecting the government officials, Rahab is being true to who she is.

Once the king’s men are gone and the gates are shut (because you wouldn’t want the spies to escape out the front gates by mistake), she helps the spies escape through her window. Archaeology has shown that Jericho in these days had a double wall, a high outer wall and a lower inner wall. Because city walls were expensive to build and maintain, the cities inside were very small. I’ve walked around the ancient ruins of Jericho and it was a very small area. So to make the most of their space, some private homes were settled in between those walls, and Rahab’s seems to have been one of those (2:15; Coleson 50; Goldingay 12). She lets the spies out the window, tells them to hide for three days (which is about as long as she guesses it will take the king’s men to give up), and wishes them well. But not before she gets them to agree to a promise. And that promise is really the heart of this story.

Rahab knows that the Hebrews are coming. She knows that the Lord is going to fight for them, and because of that, she knows that Jericho doesn’t stand a chance. And, like anyone, Rahab is concerned for her family. She wants a guarantee that, since she helped the spies, when Israel attacks, her family will be protected, rescued even. Here’s her request: “Please swear to me by the Lord that you will show kindness to my family, because I have shown kindness to you. Give me a sure sign that you will spare the lives of my father and mother, my brothers and sisters, and all who belong to them—and that you will save us from death” (2:12-13). And here is the promise the spies make back: “If you don’t tell what we are doing, we will treat you kindly and faithfully when the Lord gives us the land” (2:14). “Kindness” is what she asks for and one thing the spies promise; the Hebrew word behind that translation is one I have shared many times, even just a couple of weeks ago. It’s the word hesed, which (as you may remember) means “when the one who owes you nothing gives you everything.” It’s a characteristic of God, and somewhere along the way Rahab has learned that. What she’s asking the spies is this: “I want you to treat me the way God would treat me.” And the spies make that promise; they even go one further than what she asks. They not only promise hesed, they promise what is translated as “faithfully” or “faithfulness.” These two words together are “the most important characteristics of God,” based on the number of times they are used in the Bible to describe God (cf. Coleson 51). So the spies promise to treat her as God would treat her; they promise twice as much as Rahab asks.

Now, it may be reading into the story because the text doesn’t tell us how Rahab reacted exactly, but I can imagine that with an approaching army coming, knowing that they had your back had to bring Rahab and her family a great deal of peace. But it came because she entrusted herself to this God she barely knew and to people she didn’t know at all. Rahab chose to take a leap of faith, to risk it all on the invading army keeping their word. But she knew they would because of the God they served. And the symbol of her safety, her rescue and therefore her peace is a scarlet cord.

In addition to bringing her whole family inside her house, Rahab is supposed to tie a scarlet cord in the window of her house so that the army knows which house is hers, which house not to touch. And not just any scarlet cord; she is to tie the one that she used to let the spies down through the window and over the wall. I wonder if perhaps she just left it tied there; if it was on the outside of the wall, no one inside the city would have noticed it (cf. Coleson 52). But regardless, we’re told she tied it there when the spies left. I find it interesting that the author of Joshua takes care to note that it is a scarlet cord. Why does the color matter here?

Some suggest that there is a connection here back into Israel’s larger story, specifically to the Passover event. The stories and the events do seem to parallel each other. You might remember how the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt, and how God rescued them by sending plagues upon the Egyptians. The last plague, the one that finally caused Pharaoh to part with his labor force, was the horrible death of the firstborn, and the only way the Hebrews escaped this plague was to kill a lamb and put its blood over the doorposts of their house. This way, the angel of death would see the blood, see that something had already died as a sacrifice, and pass over that house. The scarlet blood saved them. Not long after that event, the escaping Hebrews came to the shore of the sea and it seemed uncrossable. Through a miracle, the sea was opened and they passed through on dry land. Miracle after miracle and the people were saved, rescued by this faithful and good God.

Here, on the other end of the forty years of the wilderness wanderings, with a new generation of Hebrews (everyone from the original group that left Egypt had died except Joshua and Caleb), it was time to remember again that God is in the business of saving his people. And so a scarlet mark is left on a house to tell the army to “pass by” or “pass over” that particular house. Make sure those inside are safe. And when you turn the page to the next chapter, there is a water crossing. This time, it’s the Jordan River, and when the priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant walk into the water, the water from upstream (which the author is careful to tell us was at flood stage, 3:14-17) stops flowing. Scarlet cord. Walking through water on dry land. Remember, children of Israel, your God will always come through for you.

So this event points backward in time, but it also points forward in time, because centuries later, an descendent of Rahab’s would give his life on a cross outside of Jerusalem, about 60 miles away from where Rahab’s home was. This time of year we prepare to celebrate Jesus’ birth, but even in talking about his birth we can’t help but talk about his death. I had a woman many years ago who refused to take communion on Christmas Eve (which was a tradition in that church) because, as she pointedly told me, she didn’t want to think about Jesus’ death at the same time we were celebrating his birth. But the truth is the reason he came is to give his life. Songwriter Graham Kendrick poetically wondered if there might have been thorns in the straw of Jesus’ manger, and if Mary noticed the danger near her newborn. Mary, of all people, knew why he came. And when he hung on the cross, his blood shed for all of us became the scarlet cord that would lead to our salvation (cf. DeMuth 67). And I believe that’s at least part of the reason Rahab is included in the genealogy of Jesus.

The next few chapters of the book of Joshua go into great detail about the conquering of Jericho. First there is the crossing of the Jordan (ch. 3-4). Next, Joshua circumcises all of the men in Israel. Wait—what? You’re getting ready to attack a city and you take the whole fighting force out of commission for several days? They couldn’t do anything until they had healed! Thisis not a battle plan that any sensible person would adopt. Then they celebrated Passover. They had a festival. Before they attacked (ch. 5). In view of their target. And then God finally gives marching orders to the people of Israel. Literally—marching orders. They are not to try to conquer the city with weapons. Instead, they are supposed to march around the city once each day for six days with seven priests playing trumpets in the front of the parade. That’s it. March and make music. The first day, I imagine, the Jericho army, situated on the walls, are wondering what in the world is going on. By the sixth day, can’t you hear them making fun of the Israelites? “What kind of army are you? Your music may kill us but your weapons won’t! Come up here and play that trumpet!” Six days this takes place. I imagine even Rahab, looking out her window, wonders what is going on. I wonder if she saw the spies she knew in the army and asked them about it. We don’t know, of course, but we do know they marched and played trumpet music for six days.

Then came the seventh day. This time, they Israelites were told, they were to march around the city seven times and on the seventh time, they were to shout when the trumpets were blown. No attack. No weapons. Just a shout. “When the trumpets sounded, the army shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the men gave a loud shout, the wall collapsed; so everyone charged straight in, and they took the city” (6:20). The two spies go to Rahab’s house and bring her and all her family out (6:23), though I sort of imagine they had to do this quickly, especially since her house was part of the city wall and that wall fell. The author tells us, “They brought out her entire family and put them in a place outside the camp of Israel” (6:23). But she didn’t stay outside long, because the last we hear of her in this chapter is this: “And she lives among the Israelites to this day” (6:25). Rahab the prostitute, Rahab the Jerichoite, Rahab the innkeeper becomes Rahab the Israelite. She is welcomed in and she marries, according to Matthew’s genealogy, a man named Salmon (don’t you wonder if maybe he was one of the spies? cf. DeMuth 66), and together they have a son named Boaz. We’ll hear more about him next week.

But for now, let’s talk about what Rahab can teach us in this Advent season. There is no doubt Rahab, regardless of her important and necessary position in the community, was an outsider. She was one of those people who were used by those in the city but then marginalized because of her profession. Again, it’s a double standard, but in many ways, she reminds us that there are still people like that in our own lives today. Think about the people who are in your life every day, every week, and yet you hardly see them or you don’t see them at all. The people who check you out at the store. The person who waits on you at the restaurant. The person who cuts your hair, does your nails, washes your car. The person of another skin color who works right alongside you. The person who brews your coffee. The person who performs a useful task but you don’t know their name or anything about them. It might even be the person who lives in the house next door to you. Rahab was one of those, with her own set of sins and her own set of problems, unseen or intentionally ignored by the community. Matthew includes her in the genealogy, I believe, as a way of saying, “Those people you ignore or don’t see—they just might be critical to the story you’re living.”

Matthew doesn’t tell us about them, but in Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus are the people everyone now knows about; they’re included in every depiction of the birth of Jesus, every Nativity set. They’re the night-shift shepherds, and in Jesus’ day, they would have been the people in the community who performed a useful service but were largely ignored or even actively hated. It’s most likely, since they were tending sheep in the fields around Bethlehem, near Jerusalem, that they were actually raising sheep to be used in Temple worship, in the sacrifices. Such sheep had to be cared for very intentionally because you couldn’t offer a sheep as a sacrifice that had any kind of blemish. So their job, watching over the flocks at night, was very important because nighttime was when a predator was most likely to attack the flock. And yet, these shepherds, performing such an important task, were not welcome in the town. They weren’t welcome at worship in the synagogue. Their testimony was not considered reliable. No one really liked them or paid much attention to them (cf. Hamilton, The Journey, pg. 113; Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pgs. 48-49). And yet it was to these outcasts that God sent the angels with the news that the savior of the world had been born. Not to King Herod. Not to the wealthy and powerful of Jerusalem. Not to the religious leaders. Not even to rulers around the world. No, he sent the angels to sing to the night shift shepherds—the outsiders, the marginalized, the Rahabs. And have you ever thought about this: Mary got one angel who visited her. Joseph got one angel (probably the same angel who came to Mary). The shepherds got a “great company” of angels, which I interpret to mean “a whole big bunch.” The biggest number of angels sang to people who weren’t allowed to go to worship in the synagogue. The outsiders are not outsiders to God.

Jesus grew up as an outsider. He was an exile, a refugee, to Egypt, run away from his home by a ruthless and bloodthirsty king. When he returned, he lived in the nowhere town of Nazareth, a town not important enough to even be included in the lists of towns of the day. It wasn’t on the map. He grew up in obscurity; we only have one single incident from his childhood recorded. We know nothing other than that. And he spent his entire life in a backwater province of the Roman Empire, dying a criminal’s death at the hands of the most powerful nation on earth. And he would have been forgotten except for one little thing: “But God raised him from the dead” (Acts 13:30). This is the lineage that Rahab is a part of, reminding us once and forever that God cares about and sees the outsiders. He loves the marginalized, the ones we forget. And he knows you and me in the times we feel forgotten. The scarlet cord of salvation forever reminds us that we cannot travel far enough away that God cannot see us. We are never outsiders to him; we are always welcome in his home.

And so, here’s the question Rahab’s story asks me: who have I overlooked? And who can I better see this Advent season? Who do I cross paths with, maybe every day, and I don’t even know their name? Wouldn’t it be an honor to Rahab and to Jesus to change that, to learn their name, to reach out with the love of Christ this season? A couple of years ago, several of you took gift cards to some of the night shift shepherds in our town, the people who have to work late on Christmas Eve: the first responders, the clerks at the gas stations, the pizza delivery people…the list could go on and on. We did that with no expectation of anything in return, just as an act of kindness and blessing because they are the outsiders. But there are others. The people no one thinks about. The single mother who lost her job last week. The elder person facing a lonely holiday because his family has moved away. The child who is only noticed when she acts out. These and others are the ones who need to know God sees them, and they’re only going to learn that when we begin to see them. So be the hands and feet of Jesus this Advent; continue your random acts of kindness by seeing and reaching out to the Rahabs of your world. By doing so you will make an eternal difference. Let’s pray.