Joshua 6:20–21

Joshua 6:20 — The Shout and the Collapse

The literary structure of verse 20 is deliberately climactic. The narrator slows the narrative to describe the shout twice ("the people shouted... the people shouted with a great shout"), emphasizing the intensity and communal character of the act. This is not a military maneuver but a liturgical cry — the same Hebrew root (rûa', to shout or raise a battle-cry) is used in cultic contexts for acclaiming the presence of God (cf. Ps 47:1, 5). The people do not shout at the wall; they shout before God, who has promised to give them the city. The wall's collapse is presented with stark economy: "the wall fell down flat" — no secondary cause is given, no engineering explanation offered. The sacred writer intends this as unambiguous divine action.

The phrase "every man straight in front of him" is militarily significant: there is no breach to fight through, no tactical bottleneck. The entire perimeter becomes simultaneously accessible, indicating that the victory belongs wholly to God rather than to Israelite military prowess. This detail directly recalls God's instruction in verse 2 ("I have given Jericho into your hand") — the perfect tense of divine promise is now fulfilled.

The trumpets blown by the priests (shofar, ram's horn) tie this moment explicitly to Israel's sacred calendar. The shofar is the instrument of theophany (Ex 19:16, 19), of covenant assembly, and of the Jubilee Year (Lev 25:9). Jericho's fall, occurring after seven days and seven circuits on the seventh day — the number of divine completion — takes on the character of a Jubilee liberation and a new creation. The land is being returned to its rightful Lord.

Joshua 6:21 — The Herem

Verse 21 records the execution of the herem (חֵרֶם), the "sacred ban" or "devotion to destruction." Everything in the city — people, livestock, all property — is consecrated to God by being destroyed. The comprehensiveness of the list ("man and woman, both young and old, ox, sheep, and donkey") is deliberate: the herem admits no exceptions. The text does not soften this reality, and faithful Catholic interpretation must not either.

The herem belongs to the specific theological-military framework of the conquest and is not a general warrant for violence. It functions as an anti-idolatry measure: Israel is forbidden from benefiting from Canaanite wealth or assimilating Canaanite religion (cf. Deut 7:1–6; 20:16–18). Rahab and her household are specifically exempted (v. 17), demonstrating that the herem is not ethnic but theological — those who confess Israel's God (as Rahab does in 2:9–11) are outside its scope. The cattle and silver/gold are to go into YHWH's treasury (v. 19), not into private hands, reinforcing that this is a sacrificial act of consecration rather than plunder.

Typological and Spiritual Senses

The Church Fathers universally read the fall of Jericho as a type. Origen (Homilies on Joshua 6–7) reads the seven circuits as the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the trumpets as the proclamation of the Gospel, and the fall of the walls as the collapse of sin's dominion in the soul at the preaching of Christ. For Origen, Joshua (whose name is identical to "Jesus" in Greek) is the supreme type of Christ the conqueror who defeats not earthly enemies but death, sin, and the devil. The red cord hung by Rahab (v. 25) is universally read as a type of the blood of Christ by Origen, Justin Martyr, and Clement of Alexandria.

Augustine (City of God XVI.34; Questions on Joshua) engages the violence of the herem directly and argues that God, as the author of life, has sovereign dominion over all human life, and that the Canaanites, whose iniquity had reached its fullness (cf. Gen 15:16), faced divine judgment through Israel as God's instrument. Augustine insists the moral prohibition on killing does not bind those who act as agents of divine justice — though he warns strenuously this cannot be self-applied without explicit divine command.

The spiritual sense of the herem invites reflection on radical interior detachment: there are attitudes, habits, and attachments in the soul that must be subjected to total, uncompromising destruction — not moderated or negotiated with — if the soul is to possess the land God has promised.

Catholic tradition engages these verses with both intellectual honesty and doctrinal depth, refusing both a naïve triumphalism that ignores the violence and a modern reductionism that dismisses the text as morally primitive.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that "the moral law finds its fullness and its unity in Christ" (CCC 1953) and that the Old Testament must be read in light of its fulfillment. The herem represents a "divine pedagogy" (CCC 53) — a stage in God's progressive self-revelation in which Israel was led through particular historical forms that were provisional, pointing forward to the radical nonviolence of the Kingdom and the Cross. The Pontifical Biblical Commission's document The Inspiration and Truth of Sacred Scripture (2014) acknowledges that certain Old Testament texts reflect "imperfect and provisional" moral stages, while remaining genuinely inspired as part of the whole canonical narrative.

Pope Benedict XVI (Verbum Domini, §42) insists that such "dark passages" must be read within the entire arc of Scripture, noting that the New Testament does not erase the Old but fulfills it — often by interiorizing and radicalizing what was once external and literal. The conquest of Canaan is not a model for Christian conduct but a shadow of the soul's conquest of sin and the eschatological judgment of all that refuses God.

The Church Fathers — Origen, Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine — unanimously found in Joshua/Jesus the supreme type of Christ. The Council of Trent's canon of Scripture affirms Joshua as canonical precisely because it belongs to this typological architecture. Thomas Aquinas (Summa Theologiae II-II, q. 40) addresses holy war in Israel, distinguishing it carefully from any modern concept of religious violence, grounding it in God's direct sovereign authority over life — an authority no human being or institution may claim independently.

The fall of Jericho challenges contemporary Catholics on two fronts simultaneously. First, it resists the temptation to make Scripture comfortable: a mature Catholic faith does not skip over hard texts but brings them into dialogue with the fullness of Revelation. Reading this passage in light of Christ does not erase the violence but reframes it — what God once accomplished through literal warfare is now accomplished through the Cross and the interior combat of the spiritual life.

Second, the herem asks a searching personal question: Are there areas of your interior life — habitual sin, disordered attachments, idolatrous securities — that you have been negotiating with rather than decisively renouncing? The spiritual tradition, from Origen to John of the Cross, is clear that some things cannot be reformed or moderated; they must be destroyed. The shout of Israel before Jericho is the shout of faith that precedes collapse — it is the act of confident prayer, the bold invocation of God's name in liturgy and sacrament, that breaks what human effort cannot. The walls of your Jericho fall not through strategy but through worship.