That’s precisely the situation Joshua faced after the Israelites' initial defeat at Ai.

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.

Now, how did Joshua figure out who was responsible? This is where it gets interesting. 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, according to the text, then took Achan, his family, and his possessions to the valley of Achor.

This is where things get complex and, frankly, disturbing. The text states that 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 text 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.