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Joshua Stopped the Sun Because Moses Taught Him How

When Joshua commanded the sun to stand still, the rabbis said every power he had came from Moses. The moon was still the moon. Its light was borrowed.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Sun, Stand Still
  2. What Forty Days on the Mountain Did
  3. The Name That Was a Prophecy
  4. The Sun That Had Already Been Stopped

Sun, Stand Still

Joshua was in the middle of a battle and needed more daylight. He said: sun, stand still at Gibeon. Moon, in the Valley of Aijalon. The sun stopped in the middle of the sky and did not set for roughly a full day while Israel finished its fight against the five Amorite kings.

Nobody in the ancient world seems to have doubted that this happened. What the rabbis debated was what kind of man could give that order and be obeyed. The answer they gave was not, primarily, flattering to Joshua in isolation.

Moses was like the sun. Joshua was like the moon. The moon is not dim - it lights the night well enough to travel by, well enough to see faces - but its light is not its own. It reflects what the sun gives it. Joshua's power to command creation came entirely from what Moses had transmitted to him when Moses laid his hands on Joshua before the entire assembly of Israel and said: I am conferring a portion of my honor upon him.

What Forty Days on the Mountain Did

When Moses went up to receive the Torah at Sinai, Joshua waited on the mountainside. Not at the base, where the people were. On the mountain, below the summit, for forty days and forty nights, keeping watch. He heard nothing. He had no food, no water, no instruction about what was happening above him. He waited.

When Moses came down carrying the broken tablets, Joshua was still there. He heard the noise from the camp below and said to Moses: there is the sound of war. Moses, who already knew, answered: that is not the sound of victory and not the sound of defeat. That is the sound of something else entirely. He had learned, in forty days on a mountain with nothing but God's silence, to distinguish between the different acoustics of human failure.

This is what Moses transmitted to Joshua along with the portion of his honor: the capacity to hear the difference between sounds that look the same from a distance. Forty days of waiting had trained something into Moses that he could hand on, though not teach directly. Joshua had spent his life near Moses, absorbing the quality of attention that proximity to that kind of man makes possible.

The Name That Was a Prophecy

Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, drawing on the same midrashic traditions that produced the Joshua material in Legends, records that Joshua's name contained its own prediction. Moses changed his name from Hoshea to Yehoshua before sending him with the other spies into Canaan - a prayer embedded in a name, a plea that God would protect him from the false report the other spies would bring back. The name worked. Of twelve spies sent into the land, ten brought a report that paralyzed Israel for forty years. Two held their ground: Caleb, who spoke what he felt in his heart, and Joshua, whose name had been changed before he went.

The ten whose names were given in the Torah were named, the rabbis said, in accordance with their wicked actions. Their names became records of their failure. Joshua's name became a record of what prayer can do when it is placed inside language and sent ahead of a man into danger.

The Sun That Had Already Been Stopped

Before the battle at Gibeon, Moses had also stopped the sun. At the battle of the Arnon, fighting against Sihon, Moses commanded the sun to hold still while Israel fought. Joshua was not present for every miracle Moses performed - he was still a subordinate, still a student - but the tradition understood that watching Moses do what Moses did was itself a form of instruction. When Joshua told the sun to stop over Gibeon, he was not discovering a power. He was exercising something that had been demonstrated for him, extended into him by the laying on of hands, trained into him by forty days on a mountain and decades in Moses's shadow.


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Legends of the Jews 6:94Legends of the Jews

That’s kind of how the Jewish tradition sees things. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua. It's a powerful moment, heavy with responsibility and destiny.

Joshua, overwhelmed by the task ahead, prostrating himself before Moses. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses gently raises him, saying, "Do not underestimate thyself, O Joshua, but be light of heart, and pay heed to my words." It's a moment of reassurance, but also a profound lesson in understanding God's plan.

Moses explains that God created all the nations of the universe, including Israel. And He didn’t just create them, He foresaw them. From the very beginning of creation to the end of the world, God saw everything, overlooked nothing. Everything was foreordained. Now, this might sound a bit deterministic. Like, do we even have a choice? But the point Moses is making is about the sheer scope of God's vision.

Moses continues, "He appointed me for them and for their sins, that for them I might make prayer and exhortation. Not for my fitness or my strength was I chosen, but only through the grace of His mercy and His long-suffering." Moses is emphasizing that his leadership wasn't about his own merit, but about God's grace. It's a crucial point about humility and divine purpose.

He then assures Joshua – and by extension, the people – that their victory over the heathens won't be because of their own strength, but because of God's will. "For I assure thee, Joshua, not on account of the excellence of this people wilt thou destroy the heathens; all the fastnesses of heaven and the foundations of the universe were created and approved by God, and are beneath the ring of His right hand." This reminds us that everything, even the most seemingly solid foundations, are ultimately in God's hands.

But here's the kicker: Moses warns that those who uphold God's commandments will prosper, while those who sin will face punishment at the hands of the heathens. But, and this is a big but, complete destruction is impossible. Why? Because God foresaw everything, and His covenant is firmly founded, "in accordance with the oath which He swore to the Patriarchs." There's a deep sense of continuity and unbreakable promise here.

And then, a glimmer of hope for the future: "Then the hands of the angel will be filled and he will be appointed chief, and he will forthwith avenge them of their enemies." This suggests that even in times of hardship, divine intervention is possible. An angel, acting as God's agent, will rise to defend them.

What does it all mean? Maybe that we're all part of a larger tapestry, woven by a divine hand. We have free will, yes, but we also operate within a framework of divine foresight and covenant. And even when we stumble, the promise remains – a promise of eventual redemption and justice. So, take heart, and remember that even in the face of daunting challenges, we are never truly alone in this story.

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Legends of the Jews 2:108Legends of the Jews

The familiar story is this: the Ten Commandments, the Golden Calf.. but what about the moments in between? The feelings, the doubts, the sheer weight of responsibility?

The Ginzberg's says retelling in Legends of the Jews, Joshua, ever the faithful servant, had been waiting for Moses on the mountainside that whole time – all forty days and nights. The anticipation, the quiet solitude.

As they approached the Israelite encampment together, they heard a commotion. Joshua, hearing the noise, mistakenly thought it was the sound of war. "There is a noise of war in the camp," he said to Moses. But Moses, perhaps already sensing the terrible truth, corrected him. "Is it possible," he asked, "that thou, Joshua, who art one day destined to be the leader of sixty myriads of people, canst not distinguish among the different kinds of dins? This is no cry of Israel conquering, nor of their defeated foe, but their adoration of an idol."

As they drew closer, the horrifying reality became clear. Moses was faced with a terrible dilemma. How could he possibly present the luchot (the tablets) inscribed with God’s law, including the absolute prohibition against idolatry, to a people actively engaged in worshipping a golden calf? The very act he was about to condemn was the one they were currently committing!

He hesitated. Should he even give them the tablets? He even tried to turn back, but the seventy elders, sensing something was amiss, pursued him, trying to wrest the tablets from his grasp. Can you picture that struggle? Moses, imbued with divine strength, held firm, even though the tablets weighed seventy seah (a very hefty unit of measurement!).

Then, something extraordinary happened. According to the legend, the writing on the tablets – the celestial writing, mind you – vanished. At the very same moment, their weight became almost unbearable. As Legends of the Jews explains, while the divine inscription was present, the tablets essentially carried their own weight. They didn't burden Moses at all. But with its disappearance, everything changed.

Now, Moses was even more reluctant to deliver the now-blank tablets to the people. He reasoned, "If God prohibited even one idolatrous Israelite from partaking of the Passover feast, how much more would He be angry if I were now to give all the Torah to an idolatrous people?"

And so, in a moment of profound decision, Moses, without consulting God, broke the tablets. He shattered them. A drastic, almost unthinkable act.

But here's the truly surprising part. The story doesn't end with anger or punishment. Instead, Legends of the Jews tells us that God thanked Moses for breaking the tablets. Why would God thank Moses for destroying the very symbol of their covenant? Perhaps it was an acknowledgement of Moses's deep understanding of God’s will, his unwavering commitment to justice, and his willingness to make a difficult, even heartbreaking, decision for the sake of his people. Perhaps it was because, in that moment, Moses chose the spirit of the law over the letter, prioritizing genuine repentance and a renewed commitment to God above all else. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, true leadership requires us to break what is precious in order to build something stronger.

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Legends of the Jews 4:91Legends of the Jews

Names is often remembered as just labels, but in Jewish tradition, they're so much more. They’re reflections of character, hints of potential, even prayers for the future. And sometimes, as

Think about the story of the twelve spies sent by Moses to scout out the Land of Israel. Ten of them, consumed by fear and negativity, returned with a discouraging report. But two stood strong: CALEB and JOSHUA. Their names? They weren't just coincidence. They were practically prophecies.

The ten "sinners" among the spies were named in accordance with their wicked actions. But what about the righteous ones? Their names, too, mirrored their deeds. Caleb, son of Jephunneh, earned his name because "he spoke what he felt in his heart and turned aside from the advice of the rest of the spies." He had lev tov, a good heart, and he wasn't afraid to use it.

Then there’s Joshua. His original name was Hoshea, son of Nun. Now, the text explains that Hoshea was a fitting name because he was full of understanding and wasn't "caught like a fish" by the other spies' negativity. He saw clearly, he understood the mission, and he wasn’t swayed by the groupthink.

But here’s where it gets really interesting. Moses, perceiving the evil intentions of the other spies even as he sent them out, changed Hoshea’s name to Joshua. Why? The text says it was a prayer: "May God stand by thee, that thou mayest not follow the counsel of the spies." Moses was imbuing him with divine protection, a blessing woven right into his very being. Moses, with his prophetic insight, recognized the immense pressure Hoshea would face. He knew the power of negativity, the allure of conformity. So, he changed his name, not just as a symbolic gesture, but as an active plea to God. He was saying, "This young man has the potential for greatness, but he needs your help. Protect him. Guide him. Let him become the leader I know he can be."

And so Hoshea became Joshua. A name change that wasn't just about identity, but about destiny, about divine assistance. As we find in the Talmud (Berakhot 7b), God Himself even changed Abram's name to Abraham and Sarai's name to Sarah, signifying a profound shift in their destinies and roles.

What does this tell us? Perhaps that we are not fixed. Our names, our actions, our potential – they're all part of a continuous dialogue with the divine. Maybe, just maybe, with a little courage and a little bit of divine help, we too can rise to the challenge and fulfill the promise within us.

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