If Soil Could Talk . . . My Name is Gilgal

     If I were the soil of Gilgal, what stories would I have witnessed within my boundaries that would justify what I heard proclaimed by the prophet Hosea?  What I heard was, “Everything evil of theirs is in Gilgal, there I began to hate them because of the wickedness of their deeds, I will drive them out of my house, I will love them no more.”  (Hosea 9:15-17)    This was spoken by their God, the God of Israel, against his very own children.  My mind thought back on everything that had transpired in my presence.  What had these people done to be rejected by the God who promised them this land, this blessed land?

     My first recollection of these people came as they passed across the Jordan River with their courageous leader, not a young man, but recognizably the leader who had captured the hearts and attention of this massive swarm of people.  There were men in white tunics who carried a golden rectangular object set on poles with much pomp and circumstance to the banks of the river.  It was a very formal procession.  It appeared that they were following a cloud, with this remarkable object they called ‘The Ark of the Covenant.’  They paused on the bank, but the moment their feet entered the water, the river drew back from end to end, creating a path for thousands of feet to pass through the riverbed.  As the last wanderer crossed the far bank, I heard the older man shout to about a dozen men to return to the riverbed to collect a large rock, each man, one stone.  If soil could laugh, I had a chuckle as I watched these grown men, like an Easter egg hunt looking for the most massive rock they could carry to shore.  It was as if the rock somehow became an expression of their entire clan; no puny rock would do.  Once on shore, the men deposited their boulder and then stumped to the ground rolling onto their backs in exhaustion, not one, but twelve lifeless men groaned, their heavy breathing, an indication that they had spent their remaining energy-carrying and casting these massive rocks aside.     What a terrible disarray of bodies, legs and arms spread, and boulders laying on my banks, I guess I was willing to let them rest their weary souls on my soil for a moment.  It wasn’t until the following morning that they would roll these rocks into place, one stone beside the other in a circle, as if they were building an altar to their GOD.  Yes, that is what I witnessed; these rocks were to become memory stones.  The people were told that someday they would bring their children back to this place and tell the stories of how the LORD had rescued them from the hand of their enemy.

     After years and years of wandering, I was puzzled why the water had receded to let them cross on dry ground.  These people had worn wilderness dust for years; a good bath wouldn’t have hurt anyone.  On their parched dirty faces, these wanderers wore smiles, as the dirt creased in the corners of their eyes.  Their bronzed skin darkened by the sun showed signs of a hard life, yet their clothing and sandals appeared new.  How could that be?  They also appeared to be well-nourished.  What could they have possibly eaten in that merciless desert?  The old one made a speech as they stacked the rocks in tribute to their God in recognition of each clan that He had faithfully led through the desert.  It was the tenth day of the first month of the year (Joshua 4:19-20).

     For several days I watched a sticky white substance fall from the sky.  It generally fell in the early dawn.    Once the people aroused from sleep, they would go out and gather it and bring it back to their tents.  I had never seen anything like this, but I soon realized was that it was food.  It fell for several days and then it stopped.  Soon the people found ample supply of food within my land and began to consume fruits, vegetables, and grains from my soil.  On the last day this ‘manna from heaven’ fell, I witnessed a man of high distinction gathering a small amount into a vessel.  This man appeared to be a more senior ranking official due to the way he dressed, much more distinctive than the men wearing white tunics.  Possibly he was a priest, a high priest. Filling this small vessel, he seemed to want to preserve just a bit of this substance.  I believe he stored it inside the ornate ark that they had carried on poles.  Yes, you might assume that the soil would be the only witness to what went on deep within the exquisite white tent they called ‘the tabernacle,’ but it was dark, much too dark.  I could feel the weight of the object resting within ‘the holy of holies’ where rarely a foot would tread.  (Joshua 5:11-12).  These people called the Israelites were steeped in stories, and rituals like this region had never known.    

     I watched their fearless leader approach a pillar of fire that replaced the cloud I had witnessed earlier in the day.  He seemed to be having a conversation with it.  He nodded and took in some secret information that even I could not overhear.  It would be the message he would share with the people he had led across the river.  He told them of a ritual that they would need to perform to be in a covenantal relationship with God on this soil.  I watched him sharpen a flint on a stone, a flint that would be used as a tool to complete this contract.  God had made a pack with their ancestors years ago, but for all their years of wandering, apparently, they had long forgotten what was expected of them.  One by one, all the men and boys came into the tent that their leader occupied.  I would be lying if I told you I heard not a cry.  As the men came from the canvas, they shook their heads in anguish as the next man would enter.  It was a sight for sore eyes (Joshua 5:2-8).  Then I heard these words spoken over the people of Israel, “the LORD has rolled away the reproach of Egypt from us.”  That is how I got my name, ‘Gilgal’ (Joshua 5:9).  I wondered what kind of shame these people felt and why, but it was not for my ears to hear.  As much as they loved to listen to the message of their God, I could see that physical relief had not yet arrived.  But even so, their hearts seemed to sing with the news that there was to be a celebration.   

     A few days later, I would see a celebration like my soil had never seen.  These wanderers had turned my ground into a grand encampment.  I was shocked by their organizational skills.  It was like an orchestrated dance as each of the rock-bearers took his clan to one side of the camp or another and began to unpack their tents.  There was one very exquisite white tent that was set up in the center of camp.  A long trail of men carried implements inside the curtain.  As they did, I could hear whispers from the young and old settlers that they would be celebrating a Passover.  It was the fourteenth day of the first month when the celebration began.  (Joshua 5:10).  Never had I, ever, experienced such a ceremonial event.    

      I had heard rumors that these people were to become the new landowners.  I wasn’t sure how well that was going to go over.  This land had long been occupied by many other people groups, most significantly the Canaanites.  The Canaanites were people who had descended from the times of the great flood.  They were the offspring of Noah, and as legend would have it, Canaan was the grandson of Noah, the son of Ham.  I had heard that these people were cursed.  Maybe time would reveal just how badly this curse was to play out.  I worried that there might be bloodshed.  Oh, how I hated war.  Why couldn’t people just get along? 

     Rumors spread quickly in these parts.  Before one knew it, all the Kings in the surrounding territories had heard how these people had crossed the Jordan, a people so numerous that they had been compared to the sands of the seashore.  Kings trembled with this news.    Just outside my borders, about the same time, a strange man appeared near Jericho bearing a sword.  I had worried about bloodshed, could this be confirmation?  The old leader I quickly learned was called Joshua, a commanding name that one would never forget.  It means “God is salvation.”  He approached this soldier and asked, “Are you for us, or against us?”  A fair question considering that he was bearing a weapon.  After learning his response, the leader of Israel fell to the ground, face first.  I guess this stranger was too honorable even for this courageous leader to look him in the eye, but what happened next was very puzzling.  He scrambled to his feet and removed his sandals.  I guess he wasn’t supposed to soil the soil.  Can you catch that I found this pretty strange indeed?  (Joshua 5:13-15)  I learned that this stranger had referred to the spot where Joshua stood as ‘holy ground.’ I had never thought I would be so strongly associated with holiness, but there you have it, a commander in the LORD’s army proclaimed it, so it must be true.

     Now, this is only a small portion of the story.  Would anyone be interested in what had transpired that would make God, their God, so angry to disown His children?  The same children He had sought to save from the arid region they had wandered for forty years? If I were the soil of Gilgal, I might enjoy sharing what I’ve since learned.