4 min read

Joshua Stopped the Sun to Save the Sabbath

Friday runs out and the battle is unfinished. Joshua stops the sun not to win but to keep Israel from crossing into Shabbat with swords still drawn.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Friday Running Toward Its End
  2. The Battle Had an Upper Story
  3. The Sun Spoke Back
  4. God Kept the Promise

Friday Running Toward Its End

Joshua can see the dust of the battle still rising. The Amorite kings have not yet surrendered. Their soldiers are still running but they are still alive, and the sun is moving in the direction it always moves, pulling the light away from the valley, pulling Shabbat toward the camp whether the war is finished or not. A commander can lose a battle and remain a commander. But if Joshua teaches Israel to cross into the seventh day with weapons still swinging, he has won the wrong thing even if he wins the field.

That is the pressure in the scene as the tradition received it. The stopping of the sun in the Book of Joshua is a miracle of military convenience on the surface. The sun stands still, the moon holds its place, the army finishes the job while the light holds. But Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the narrative midrash from eighth-century Palestine, will not leave the miracle at that level. Joshua did not ask for more daylight to enjoy his victory. He stopped the sun because Shabbat was approaching and Israel was still fighting, and a leader who commands an army must also command the boundaries of his people's covenant.

The Battle Had an Upper Story

There was a second threat in the valley that day, one that ran above the battlefield. Egyptian magicians were working against Israel from the positions of the heavens, pulling the constellations into alignment against the army below. The battlefield had a floor where men ran with swords and a ceiling where powers were being conscripted into the fight.

Joshua looked at both threats at once. Below him, the Amorite remnant. Above him, celestial forces being aimed by enemy hands. And pulling toward both of them from the far side of the sky, the approaching Shabbat whose sanctity could not be suspended for the convenience of a military timetable.

He stretched his hand toward the sun and moon. He spoke the Shem Hamephorash, the divine name whose force the tradition says operates without limit on what it addresses. The sun obeyed. The moon held still. The magicians above lost their leverage. The battle below finished in the suspended light.

The Sun Spoke Back

The tradition preserves a moment of cosmic negotiation. The sun had moved faithfully since creation, day after day, season after season, the same arc across the same sky. Then Joshua commanded it to stop, and the sun objected. Not from disobedience but from injury. It argued that its own honor was at stake, that a celestial body does not simply halt because a general in a valley below requires more daylight.

Joshua answered the objection. He invoked Rachel. He reminded the sun that this army fighting below was the descendant of the woman who had concealed her father's idols to protect her husband, whose name God had remembered across centuries. If God remembers Rachel's sacrifice, Joshua argued, then the sun can honor her descendant's need. The tradition says the sun was silenced by this and complied.

God Kept the Promise

The midrash from Yalkut Shimoni adds another layer. God had made a promise at the edge of the Jordan, before the first battle, that no enemy would be able to stand before Joshua. That promise was given to an army crossing into a land it had been promised for forty years. When the sun threatened to rob Joshua of the light he needed to keep the promise operational, the miracle was not a suspension of nature for Joshua's convenience. It was God honoring a prior commitment. The heavens moved to keep a word already given.


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From the tradition

Sources

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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.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 52:8Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

They faithfully rose and set, marking the days, months, and years. But according to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early collection of Biblical stories and legends, all that changed with Joshua.

The text recounts a pivotal moment: Joshua leading the Israelites in battle. It was the eve of the Sabbath, a time of profound rest and spiritual reflection. But Joshua saw a grave danger. He feared that the fighting would force the Israelites to desecrate the sanctity of the Sabbath. Even more ominously, he perceived the dark arts at play – the magicians of Egypt were, allegedly, using their powers to manipulate the constellations against Israel.

What was he to do?

Joshua, in an act of incredible faith and power, stretched out his hand towards the sun and the moon. He invoked the Shem Hameforash, the explicit Divine Name of God, a name of immense power and mystery. And then, an astounding thing happened: the sun and the moon stood still.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us that each celestial body remained fixed in its place for thirty-six hours – long enough to ensure the Sabbath was fully observed and the threat neutralized. This miraculous event is, of course, based on the verse in (Joshua 10:13): "And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed."

Think about the implications of this. It wasn't just a local event. The text goes on to say that all the kings of the earth heard of it and were astonished. Why? Because, as the verse in (Joshua 10:14) emphasizes, "There was no day like that before it or after it, that the Lord hearkened unto the voice of a man."

The story in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer emphasizes the unique relationship between God and Joshua. Joshua's plea, his faith, his leadership – all combined to create a moment where the very laws of nature were suspended. It's a powerful reminder that faith, combined with righteous action, can achieve the seemingly impossible.

What does this ancient story mean for us today? Perhaps it's a call to recognize the power we each hold within ourselves, the potential to influence the world around us through faith, action, and a deep connection to something larger than ourselves. And maybe, just maybe, to believe that even the sun and the moon can listen.

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Legends of the Jews 1:18Legends of the Jews

The Israelite army, led by Joshua, is locked in a fierce struggle. It’s Friday, and the weight of the approaching Shabbat, the Sabbath, hangs heavy in the air. Joshua knows that forcing his people to fight on the holy day would cause them immense spiritual pain. But there's more at stake than just the calendar.

Joshua realizes the enemy is using sorcery, magic, to manipulate the very heavens, turning the celestial bodies against the Israelites! What's he to do?

He does something audacious, something almost unbelievable. He speaks the Shem HaMeforash, the explicit Name of God, and commands the sun, moon, and stars to stand still! Stopping time. Halting the natural order. It’s a concept that resonates through countless myths and legends across cultures. But where does this story come from? We find it elaborated upon in Legends of the Jews, a masterful compilation by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, drawing from a vast ocean of Jewish tradition. (Ginzberg, Legends, 4:24; 6:162).

Here’s where the story takes an even more fascinating turn. The sun, it seems, isn’t exactly thrilled with being ordered around. The sun initially refuses. It points out that it's older than Joshua by two days! "I'm your elder!" it basically protests.

Joshua's response is pure chutzpah, that wonderful Yiddish word for audacity, for nerve. He retorts that there’s no reason why a free man, a youth, shouldn’t be able to silence an old slave whom he owns. And, he argues, didn't God give heaven and earth to our father Abraham? Hadn’t the sun itself bowed down before Joseph in a dream? It's a bold, almost cheeky argument. The sun, still reluctant, raises a final objection: "But," it asks, "who will praise God if I am silent?" This is a crucial point. The sun sees itself as an instrument of divine praise.

And Joshua, ever resourceful, has an answer for that too. "Be thou silent," he declares, "and I will intone a song of praise." He promises to take on the sun's role, to ensure that God's glory is still proclaimed. As we find in Sefer HaYashar, Joshua then sings a song of praise to God (Sefer HaYashar [ed. Lazare Goldschmidt], Joshua 84).

What does this story tell us? Is it a literal account of a cosmic event? Perhaps. But maybe it's something more. Maybe it’s about the power of faith, the audacity to challenge even the natural order when justice and righteousness are at stake. It's about finding your voice, even when the sun itself tries to silence you. It's about the responsibility that comes with leadership, about ensuring that praise for the Divine never ceases, even when the world seems to be standing still.

Think about the times in your own life when you've felt powerless, when you've faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Where is your song of praise? Where is the chutzpah to demand what is needed?

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Ben Sira 46:6Ben Sira

Ben Sira turns to Joshua Raised His Javelin Against the City.

Ben Sira, in his wisdom, certainly did. He paints a picture of Joshua in chapter 46 that's nothing short of awe-inspiring.

"To avenge vengeance on the enemies, and to inherit Israel. How admirable when he stretched out his hand, when he waved his javelin at a city." Can you just see that image? Joshua, hand outstretched, javelin raised, a figure of righteous fury and divine purpose.

It wasn't just about brute strength. Ben Sira asks, "Who is it who could stand against him? For the wars of ADONAI were fought." That's Adonai, Hebrew for "Lord," often used as a substitute name for God. This wasn't just Joshua's fight; it was God's. He was an instrument, a conduit for divine will.

And here's where it gets really interesting. "Was it not by his hand that the sun stood still, a single day as if it were two?"

Now, that's a story you might remember. It's the miracle recounted in the Book of Joshua itself ((Joshua 10:1)3). The sun and moon stopped in the sky, allowing Joshua and his army to complete their victory against the Amorites. Ben Sira emphasizes that this wasn't just some lucky break. This was a direct intervention, a bending of the very laws of nature.

Why?

Because, as Ben Sira tells it, "For he called to God the Highest, as his enemies surrounding forced him; and God the Highest answered him, with stones of ice and hail." Joshua cried out in desperation, and God responded with a literal storm of divine force. "He threw them down on the enemy nation, and as they fled destroyed them all; so that all battling nations knew, that ADONAI guards their wars."

It's a powerful reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, faith and righteous action can bring about the seemingly impossible. It's also a potent image of God's active involvement in the world, protecting those who fight for what is right.

But what does it mean for us, today? Are we meant to expect the sun to stand still when we face our own challenges? Probably not literally. But perhaps the story of Joshua and his divinely-aided battles is a call to have faith in the face of adversity, to trust that even when we feel surrounded, we are not alone. And maybe, just maybe, to remember that sometimes, the greatest victories are won not through our own strength, but through the power of something much, much larger than ourselves.

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Midrash Tanchuma Buber, Vayetzei 18:1Midrash Tanchuma Buber, Vayetzei

[Another interpretation of (Gen. 30:22): "And God remembered Rachel."] This is what Scripture says (Ps. 98:3): "He has remembered His loving-kindness and His faithfulness." It speaks of Joshua, who was among the children of Rachel's children. (Continuing the verse:) "All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God" (ibid.), that salvation which Joshua performed, as it is said (Josh. 10:12): "Sun, stand still over Gibeon."

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