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How Joshua Found the Man Who Made Israel Lose at Ai

Jericho fell to trumpets and silence. Then thirty-six men died at Ai, and Joshua lay face down before the Ark unable to understand why.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. After Jericho
  2. What God Said to Joshua's Grief
  3. The Lot That Found Achan
  4. What Was Found in the Tent

After Jericho

Jericho had fallen without a sword being drawn at the walls. Seven days of marching, trumpets, and the great shout, and the walls had come down. It was the most spectacular military event since the sea parted, and Israel had watched it happen and understood what it meant: the land would be taken by God's power, not by ordinary war-making.

Ai was the next city. The scouts went ahead and came back with a straightforward assessment: it is small. Do not send all the people. Two or three thousand men are sufficient. The tone was almost bored. After Jericho, Ai was a formality.

The men of Ai routed Israel. Thirty-six men died. The rest fled. Joshua tore his garments, fell face down before the Ark, and lay there with the elders of Israel, dust on their heads, until the evening. He said to God: why did you bring us across the Jordan to give us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us? It was Moses' question after the golden calf, placed now in the mouth of a man facing a military catastrophe he could not explain.

What God Said to Joshua's Grief

God's answer did not come with comfort. Stand up. Why are you fallen on your face? Israel has sinned. The devoted things have been stolen. They have taken and deceived and put the forbidden items among their own possessions. I will not be with you again until you remove this thing from your midst.

The defeat at Ai was not about military miscalculation. It was not about Ai's walls or Ai's soldiers or any ordinary tactical failure. Someone in the camp had taken from the herem, the devoted property that belonged entirely to God from the sack of Jericho. Everything from Jericho was set apart: the silver and gold to the treasury, the rest destroyed. One man had reached into that heap and taken for himself.

Until that man was found and removed, Israel could not function as the instrument it had been at Jericho. The thirty-six men had died because one man had broken the covenant's terms.

The Lot That Found Achan

The process God prescribed was systematic. Bring Israel tribe by tribe. Then clan by clan. Then household by household. Then man by man. The lot would fall where it fell.

The tribe of Judah was taken. Within Judah, the clan of the Zerahites. Within the Zerahites, the household of Zabdi. Within the household of Zabdi, man by man, the lot fell on Achan son of Carmi.

Joshua spoke to him carefully. My son, give glory to the LORD God of Israel. Make confession. Tell me what you did and do not hide it from me. It was the voice of a man who already knew the answer and was giving the accused the dignity of confession rather than exposure.

Achan confessed. He had seen among the spoil a beautiful cloak from Shinar, two hundred shekels of silver, and a bar of gold weighing fifty shekels. He had desired them. He had taken them. They were hidden in the ground inside his tent, with the silver under it.

What Was Found in the Tent

Runners went to the tent and found everything exactly where Achan said: the cloak, the silver, the gold bar, buried in the ground. They brought them out and spread them before Joshua and all Israel, and the tradition marked the moment with the weight it deserved. This was what thirty-six men had died for. A cloak, two hundred shekels, a bar of gold.

The midrash paused on the confession and the question of Achan's standing in the world to come. Some traditions held that his act of public confession, his willingness to speak the truth when asked and spare Joshua the need for a more coercive process, earned him a share in the world to come despite the crime and its consequences. He had given God glory in the moment of his exposure, and that act was not forgotten.

Achan was taken to the Valley of Achor with his sons and daughters, his livestock, his tent, and everything he had. They stoned him and burned the things. A great heap of stones was raised over him. The Valley of Achor: the Valley of Trouble. The name the place received was the name of what Achan had brought into the camp, the trouble he had caused, the thirty-six men who had paid for his desire.

JoshuaAchanArk Of The CovenantIsraelPirkei Derabi EliezerMidrash AggadahHoly Land
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 1:13Legends of the Jews

The story of Achan gives us a glimpse. It's a tale of transgression, communal strife, and ultimately, redemption – or at least, the possibility of it.

See, after the miraculous crossing of the Jordan and the fall of Jericho, Joshua faced a monumental task: dividing the Promised Land among the tribes of Israel. And he intended to do it by lot – a method seen as divinely guided.

Something was amiss. Something was blocking the flow of divine favor.

Joshua, endued with the holy spirit, as Ginzberg puts it in Legends of the Jews, understood that any hint of corruption could undermine the entire process. If people thought the lots were being manipulated, or that God's will wasn't being truly revealed, chaos would ensue.

That's where Achan comes in. He had secretly taken forbidden spoils from Jericho, violating the herem (the ban) placed upon the city. He coveted what was not his to take.

Joshua, sensing the disruption, knew he had to act. He felt compelled to convince Achan to confess his crime before the drawing of lots began. Imagine the pressure!

But instead of confessing right away, Achan's tribesmen, the Judeans, rallied around him. Perhaps out of misguided loyalty, or fear of the consequences for their own tribe, they turned on the other tribes, causing "fearful havoc and bloodshed." According to Legends of the Jews, this violence pushed Achan to finally admit his guilt. The weight of the communal strife, the bloodshed... it all became too much to bear.

His confession, however, came at a steep price: his life. He was stoned to death as punishment for his transgression. Yet, the story doesn't end there. Ginzberg tells us that Achan's confession, though it cost him his earthly existence, saved him from losing his share in the olam ha-ba – the world to come.

It's a stark reminder of the ancient Jewish emphasis on both earthly and spiritual consequences. Achan's story highlights the importance of honesty, communal responsibility, and the idea that even in the face of grave sin, repentance offers a path toward redemption.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38:15Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The story of Achan, found in the Book of Joshua, gives us a pretty stark answer. And it's a story echoed and expanded upon in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text that weaves together biblical narrative, aggadah (Jewish storytelling), and halakha (Jewish law). Joshua, successor to Moses, has just led the Israelites across the Jordan River. They’re facing Jericho, a formidable city. God commands that Jericho be placed under a herem. Everything in it – every object, every person – is to be devoted to God, which in practice meant destruction, a complete offering. It was to be burnt with all things therein by fire.

Then comes Achan, son of Carmi. Now, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer fills in some details that maybe you missed in the original biblical account. It tells us he saw Teraphim – idols, basically. And silver offerings before them. And a beautiful mantle. And a tongue of gold in the idol's mouth. (Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38)

Achan wasn't supposed to touch any of it. It was all under the ban, completely forbidden. But temptation got the better of him. He coveted those forbidden treasures, and he went and buried them right there in the middle of his tent, thinking he’d get away with it.

Big mistake.

The consequences were devastating. After the victory at Jericho, the Israelites went to conquer the much smaller city of Ai. They expected an easy win. Instead, they were soundly defeated. Thirty-six righteous men died! As it says in (Joshua 7:5), "And the men of Ai smote of them about thirty and six men."

Thirty-six lives lost because of one man's transgression. That’s how seriously they took the idea of herem! It wasn't just about the material value of the stolen goods; it was about the broken vow, the betrayal of God’s command, and the disruption of the entire community’s relationship with the Divine.

It makes you think, doesn’t it? About the power of our choices, and the ripple effects they can have. Achan’s story serves as a potent reminder that even seemingly small acts of disobedience can have enormous consequences. It’s a sobering thought, and a powerful lesson.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38:18Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

It's a wild ride through sin, repentance, and the surprising grace that might just be waiting on the other side.

Our first stop is the story of Achan. Remember him? He's the guy in the Book of Joshua who messed everything up by taking forbidden spoils after the battle of Jericho (Joshua 7). A serious no-no. Because of his actions, the Israelites suffered defeat. But here's the twist: because Achan confessed his sin before God, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us, he earns a share in the World to Come. Wait, what?

It seems counterintuitive. He messed up big time! But the verse quoted, "Why hast thou troubled us? The Lord shall trouble thee this day" (Joshua 7:25), gets a fascinating interpretation. "This day" thou art troubled, the text implies, but not in the future world. His punishment was limited to his earthly life. Confession, even after the deed, held immense power. It's a powerful reminder that even in the face of severe transgression, repentance offers a path toward redemption.

The story pivots to something even more complex: the power of the cherem (חֵרֶם), the ban. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer wants us to understand just how potent this communal declaration could be.

To illustrate, we're whisked away to the story of the tribe of Benjamin found in the Book of Judges (Judges 19-21). This is a dark and disturbing narrative. The other tribes of Israel were furious because of a horrific act of immorality committed in the territory of the tribe of Benjamin. They were ready to wage war against them.

But here’s the stinging rebuke: the Holy One, blessed be He, said to them: "Ye are zealous because of the immorality, and ye are not zealous because of the image of Micah." There was an idol being worshipped, too, and that was being ignored! It's a powerful challenge to our priorities: are we focusing on the right things? Are we seeing the whole picture?

As a result, the Benjamites initially prevailed in battle. The other tribes suffered heavy losses, not once, but several times. Eventually, they realized something had to change. They went before the Ark of the Covenant, seeking forgiveness and guidance. And, eventually, they were forgiven.

The tribes then decreed that all of Israel should make peace with the Benjamites. It was a collective act of repentance, young and old participating. The text quotes, "For they made a great oath concerning him that came not up unto the Lord to Mizpah" (Judges 21:5), and then asks a crucial question: did all of Israel actually take an oath?

The answer, implicitly, is no. The cherem, the ban, acted as the oath. It bound the community together. It was a declaration with far-reaching consequences, uniting the people in purpose and action. It was as binding as an oath, even for those who didn't explicitly swear it.

So, what does this all mean?

These stories from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer paint a picture of a world where words – confessions, vows, and communal declarations – carry immense weight. They can condemn, but they can also redeem. They can divide, but they can also unite. The power lies not just in the words themselves, but in the intentions behind them and the actions that follow.

It leaves you wondering: What kinds of vows are we making, explicitly or implicitly, in our own lives? And how are we using the power of our words to build up, rather than tear down, the world around us?

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 38:16Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer turns to Joshua, The Ark of the Covenant.

The story, as we find it in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, chapter 38, begins with Joshua in anguish. He tears his clothes, falls to the ground before the Ark of the Covenant, desperately seeking atonement. Can you imagine the scene? The leader of a nation, humbled and pleading for forgiveness. Thankfully, the Holy One, blessed be He, responds, revealing the truth: "Israel has trespassed the sin of trespass in the matter of the devoted things." In other words, someone has broken a sacred vow regarding spoils of war.

How did Joshua figure out who was responsible? Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us that Joshua looked to the Choshen, the breastplate of the High Priest. This breastplate was adorned with twelve precious stones, each representing a tribe of Israel. When a tribe sinned, the corresponding stone would dim. Joshua noticed the stone of Judah had lost its luster, indicating wrongdoing within that tribe.

Through a process of casting lots, Achan, son of Carmi, was identified as the culprit. He had taken forbidden items from the conquered city of Jericho – silver, a mantle, and a tongue of gold. Joshua, then took Achan, his family, and his possessions to the valley of Achor.

This is where things get complex and, frankly, disturbing. They were stoned and burned. This raises an immediate question: why both? If there was stoning, why burning? If burning, why stoning? Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer explains that the stoning was because Achan's family knew about his transgression and failed to report it. The burning, however, was because Achan's actions led to the death of thirty-six righteous men at Ai. As the verse states, "And the men of Ai smote of them about thirty and six men" (Joshua 7:5).

This seems to contradict the Torah's teaching in (Deuteronomy 24:16), "The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for the fathers." The text addresses this by emphasizing that they were complicit, aware of Achan's sin and choosing to remain silent.

This story from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer leaves us with a lot to consider. What does it mean to be responsible not only for our own actions but also for the actions of those around us? How far does that responsibility extend? And how do we reconcile the idea of collective punishment with the principles of individual justice? Perhaps the story isn’t meant to be taken literally, but rather as a powerful reminder of the interconnectedness of community and the devastating consequences of even a single act of betrayal.

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