Reconnoitring Rahab
Comparative commentary by Devon Abts
The story of Rahab is recorded in Joshua 2:1–21 and 6:17, 22–25. During a reconnaissance mission to Jericho, two Israelite spies enter the house of Rahab (2:1), a sex worker who lives at the outermost edge of the Canaanite city (v15). She welcomes the spies into her home (v.2), confesses faith in their God (vv.9–11), and secures her family’s protection in exchange for helping them escape (vv.12–14). After the siege of Jericho, Rahab and her family are brought safely from the ruined city and placed ‘outside the camp of Israel’ (6:23). The author of Joshua adds that her family remains in Israel to this day, ‘for she hid the messengers whom Joshua sent to spy out Jericho’ (v.25).
A Gentile woman by birth and plucky brothel-keeper by profession, Rahab is the unlikeliest of biblical heroines. Yet the drama of her story has captivated the imagination of Jewish and Christian readers alike. According to rabbinic tradition, she married Joshua and became a progenitor of a prominent line of Hebrew prophets, including Jeremiah (Baskin 1979: 146). She earns a place in Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus (1:5), and the New Testament authors credit her as an exemplar of both faith (Hebrews 11:31) and works (James 2:25). Building on this scriptural tradition, the Church Fathers praise Rahab’s courage in showing hospitality towards the Jews and faith in their God (e.g., Clement of Alexandria, 1 Clement 12; Augustine, Contra Mendacium). For centuries, her story has been read as illustrative of ‘the marvellous purposes of God in working through unexpected agents to bring his plan of salvation to fruition’ (Sharp 2004: 630).
Significantly, however, this biblical narrative also has a darker, more sinister side. Viewed through a postcolonial lens Rahab appears, not as a heroic Gentile convert, but as a willing participant in the genocide of her own people (Sharp 2004: 631–33). Under threat of foreign invasion, she willingly colludes with the conquerors; and in return, she and her family are permanently placed ‘outside the camp of Israel’ (Joshua 6:23).
Such contemporary perspectives can make familiar discourses seem strange—and in so doing, these postcolonial readings allow us to see the story of Rahab with fresh eyes. In the same way, each of the three artworks in this exhibition invites us to read the biblical text in a new light.
Created at the dawn of the modern Zionist movement, Ephraim Moses Lilien’s engraving is part of a series of illustrations the artist made to accompany a set of poems composed by his friend and creative collaborator, Börries von Münchhausen. The organic, energetic forms of Jugendstil (German Art Nouveau) offered Lilien an ideal visual language to express his longing for the renewal of an authentically modern Jewish culture. It is unlikely that a cultural Zionist such as Lilien intended this artwork as a piece of political propaganda. However, when viewed through a postcolonial lens, his depiction of Rahab raises some disturbing questions about her fate in the biblical text. What is the cost of her willing submission to the invading powers?
At first glance, Khaled Jarrar’s enormous concrete sculptures may not seem to offer any substantial commentary on Rahab’s story. Yet if we read her narrative with this work in mind, several parallels begin to emerge. Like Jarrar, the biblical figure of Rahab defies the colonial logic of walling. Her brothel—built into the very walls of Jericho (2:15)—is a haven of hospitality for strangers and outsiders. In welcoming the Israelite spies and professing faith in their God, she ‘successfully moves the border between herself and the spies, between self and other’ (Gillmayr-Bucher 2007: 145). Each time he takes a hammer to the separation wall, Jarrar undermines the barriers that separate families, friends, and neighbours. In repurposing the wall, the artist invites his viewers to transcend the psychological barriers of their colonized imaginations and to recognize humanity’s essential interdependence. Perhaps this, too, is a part of Rahab’s legacy.
If Lilien’s artwork illuminates Rahab’s violent domestication, and Jarrar elucidates a Rahab who refuses to be domesticated, what insights might we glean from the tranquil domesticity of Njideka Akunyili Crosby’s self-portrait?
Like Jarrar’s sculptures, this painting was not conceived as a response to the biblical text. However, in offering a constructive vision of her own hybridity, Akunyili Crosby invites us to consider how identities take shape under circumstances of cultural collision. Moreover, the hospitality of her work invites the modern reader of the Bible to consider how she might foster a hospitable discourse around Rahab. Like so many favourite biblical figures, Rahab asks to be considered from multiple angles. How might we, as interpreters of Scripture, enter into dialogue with those who see her from a different perspective?
References
Dube, Musa. 2000. Postcolonial Feminist Interpretation of the Bible (Danvers: Chalice Press)
Gossman, Lionel. 2004. ‘Jugendstil in Firestone: The Jewish Illustrator E.M. Lilien (1874–1925)’, The Princeton University Library Chronicle, 66: 11–76
Pui-Lan, Kwok. 2006. ‘Sexual Morality and National Politics: Reading Biblical “Loose Women”’, in Engaging the Bible: Critical Readings from Contemporary Women, ed. by Choi Hee An and Katheryn Pfisterer Darrby (Minneapolis: Fortress Press)
Gillmayr-Bucher, Susan. 2007. ‘“She Came to Test Him with Hard Questions”: Foreign Women and Their View on Israel’, Biblical Interpretation, 15.2: 135–50
Sharp, Carolyn. 2008. Irony and Meaning in the Hebrew Bible (Bloomington: Indiana University Press)
______. 2012. ‘“Are You For Us, or For Our Adversaries?”: A Feminist and Postcolonial Interrogation of Joshua 2–12 for the Contemporary Church’, Interpretation 66.2: 141–52