To Build Bridges, Remember the Story of Achan

Only one man–only Achan–had stolen. But God’s words are these: “The Israelites have stolen.

Many of us may be familiar with the story of Jericho. In the story, the Israelites marched around the walls of the fortified city of Jericho for six days. On the seventh day, the Israelites rose at dawn, and again, they marched–encircling Jericho one, two, three, four, five, six times. As they began the seventh circling, horns blasted and people shouted–and the walls, as they say, came tumbling down. 

God had instructed the Israelites to take nothing from Jericho for themselves. No person or tribe should benefit from the wealth of the city. One Israelite soldier, Achan, did not obey this command. Seeing the opportunity to enrich himself, Achan stole textiles, pieces of silver, and a gold bar and buried them in his tent. Soon after, the Israelites again marched into battle. This time, there was no triumph. The Israelite soldiers were routed, chased, and mocked as they retreated.

“Did You lead us to the Promised Land, only for us to be defeated?” Joshua demanded of God. “Why have You allowed this to happen?” And God replied: “The Israelites have stolen. They have broken faith.” Only one man–only Achan–had stolen. But God’s words are these: “The Israelites have stolen. They have broken faith.”

That the whole community is defined by the act of Achan–of a single person–seems unfair and arbitrary. It might remind us of the awful teacher who punishes the whole class because one kid misbehaved. But the Achan story also rings true. After all, if our community has a thief in our midst, we become a community of criminals. If our community has a duplicitous person, we become a community of treachery. If our community has someone who flouts authority, we become a community of lawlessness. 

Fear Leads Us to See Others as Achan

The story of Achan is over three thousand years old, but it feels contemporary. It feels urgent. I think the story illuminates the polarization around us. Like the Israelites, we feel vulnerable, threatened, and afraid. And when we feel vulnerable, threatened, and afraid, we are unable to build bridges with others—we see them as Achan.

Is there an anti-Zionist activist, a demonstrator to defund the police, or a self-proclaimed socialist who plans to vote Democrat? That person is Achan; and their presence means that the Democratic party hates Israel, law enforcement, and the American dream–and so does everyone in it. Is there an anti-abortion advocate, a climate change skeptic, or a self-proclaimed Christian nationalist who plans to vote Republican? That person, too, is Achan; and their presence means that the Republican party hates women, science, and minorities–and so does everyone in it.

When we see others as Achan, we don’t see their complexity, lived experiences, and humanity. Instead, we stick with people we feel comfortable with, those who believe, profess, and vote as we do. Doing so keeps our beliefs intact. It helps us feel safe. It assures us that we are right.

But what if we’re not? The first Achan disregarded those around him. He saw only his perspective and considered only his wants. In doing so, he weakened and harmed his community. Let us guard ourselves against Achan. And let us guard ourselves against becoming him.

This article was written By Rabbi Elaine Rose Glickman, Adjunct Rabbi of Temple Emanu-El in Sarasota, Florida, and published in collaboration with Divided We Fall, with support from A More Perfect Union: The Jewish Partnership for Democracy.