Reflections on Columbus Day

Reflections on Columbus Day inspired by a reading of Joshua 3:7-17

The point of this text in the ongoing story of Israel is to establish Joshua as the legitimate leader of the people and the rightful successor to Moses. The miraculous crossing of the Jordan River, replicating the crossing of the Red Sea, accomplishes this goal. However, the recitation of the names of all the resident Canaanite people to be conquered and displaced can give pause to a contemporary reader. One could make a strong argument to preach against the text, especially given the proximity of the reading to the increasingly problematic celebration of “Columbus Day,” or what the United Church of Christ is calling “Indigenous Peoples Day.”

What happens to our reading when we identify ourselves with the Canaanites? To deal with this text from the perspective of those about to be conquered raises two problematic issues, both worth tackling: God’s will and God’s preferences. In the classic understanding, nothing happens that is not the will of God, which puts God in the position of appearing to favor some people—or nations—over others. Pushing this to the extreme reveals the absurdity: God becomes a monstrous being who wills violent actions that human courts would condemn. Alternately, it can persuade migrating people that God wants them to displace the Iroquois, the Hurons, the Objibwe, the Dakota, the Cherokee, the Apache, the Hopi, the Chumash. After all, it wouldn’t be happening at all if it weren’t the will of God, right?

A process theologian wouldn’t contest the reality of God’s will, but would reframe it; that is, it is God’s will that human beings have free will, real free will. This necessarily includes the freedom to do grievous harm to others, as well as its corollary—which is to experience the consequences of our actions. There is no divine favoritism here, because in all circumstances, the process theologian believes that God is lovingly at work in all moments, without prejudice, throughout all creation, with a creative power that aims at transforming the harm we do into blessing.

It is inevitable that we tell stories from our own perspective, and that we tell them in ways that justify our actions. So naturally the Jewish writers wrote the story of their conquest of Canaan as divinely sanctioned history. Europeans coming to the American continent did no less, casting themselves as benign conquerors, bringing civilization and a saving faith to the indigenous people. But texts like these can invite us to put ourselves in role of the displaced and to ask the more searing question of where is God for these people? Are we really comfortable with our notion of a prejudicial God when we are the targets of aggression?