When the Trumpet Sounds

Though I'm not super athletic and have no skill whatsoever with the sport of soccer, I enjoy watching it, and in particular, I love watching the World Cup (who made the rule that it only comes around once every four years?). I haven't yet gotten to the point of painting my face with my team's colors, but there's still time. You never know.

Anyway, in one memorable World Cup hosted by South Africa in 2010, there was a predominant sound that accompanied every match: the sound of the vuvuzela, which is a plastic horn type of thing that -- when blown together with thousands of other vuvuzelas -- is reminiscent of a massive swarm of angry bees... or a stampede of raging elephants... or a football field of kids blowing kazoos... or a cross among all three.

The sound was irritating to many of the announcers... and the players... and the fans, and in general, it seemed no one liked it, but apparently it was the thing to do, and so the sound persisted. It was annoying, but more, it was all-pervasive. It covered over refs' whistles and players calls. It grated on the auditory nerves, and even watching the games on TV, your ears rang after awhile, so when you turned off the matches, you could still hear it. 

Vuvuzelas can't really compare to a shofar, but that's what they're reminiscent of, and so as I read Joshua 6 this morning, it brought back that pervasive, overwhelming sound. Only when I think of a shofar, I think of Gimli from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, when, in the movie The Two Towers, he goes to the horn tower at Helm's Deep, and he blows this resonate, deep blast that groans outward from the fortress, nearly vibrating the ground and driving back the enemy.

Shofars, if you're not familiar with them, are rams' horns, hollowed out and fashioned into a horn, and in Joshua 6, are used as a part of the offensive military strategy Joshua employs against Jericho. To set the stage, Chapter 6 begins with: "Now Jericho was tightly shut up because of the Israelites. No one went out and no one came in." They've no doubt got their fighting men lining their walls. The army of Israel is now in sight.

According to the Lord's instructions, Joshua sets up an order for the people: An armed guard marches in front, behind them, seven priests carrying seven trumpets (shofars). Then come the Levite priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant -- this is key, because this battle is the Lord's, and the Ark symbolizes His throne -- and behind them, the rearguard comes. And though the narrative isn't sparkling clear about where the people of Israel march, it's evident that they're there. So perhaps they walk along behind the rearguard. 

Joshua 6:9-10 says of the march around the city: "All this time the trumpets were sounding. But Joshua had commanded the people, 'Do not give a war cry, do not raise your voices, do not say a word until the day I tell you to shout. Then shout!'"

Think about the eerie silence except for the incessant blowing of those rams' horns. It's psychological warfare, isn't it? Joshua uses it to great effect here, Gideon uses it in Judges 7. More recently, in the American Civil War, the Confederacy was well known to employ what was known as the "Rebel Yell" -- a blood-curdling, overwhelming, multi-voiced scream -- as they advanced against the northern forces.

Days 1-6, this eerie effect continues. The Israelites march, the shofars blow, there's dead silence except for the pervasive, constant sound of the rams' horns. One time around the city. Then they go back to their camp.

I had always thought this single circuit was odd, and I've wondered what the inhabitants of Jericho thought as they watched this. However, according to my Bible's footnotes, it seems that in ancient near-eastern practice, in order to siege a city, the offensive army trekked around it. How many times, I don't know, and whether or not they did it every day, I don't know. But Jericho understood this fact: they were in siege. Questions had to have been prevalent: How long will this last? What to do? Should we go on the offensive? How long can we remain shut up tightly against the Israelites?

As it turns out, they didn't have to wait that long.

Day 7: "On the seventh day, [the Israelites] got up at daybreak and marched around the city seven times in the same manner... The seventh time around, when the priests sounded the trumpet blast, Joshua commanded the people, 'Shout! For the Lord has given you the city!'... When the trumpets sounded, the people shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the people gave a loud shout, the walls collapsed, so every man charged straight in and they took the city."

And it hit me, just now as I was writing this: God does it again, right? He asks His people to step out in faith before He delivers the victory. "Shout! For the Lord has given you the city!" So with those ringing shofars as background, the people open up their mouths and fill up their lungs, and they shout their praises to the Lord who has given them the city.

And then the walls of Jericho collapse.

Hebrews 11:30 says: "By faith, the walls of Jericho fell, after the people had marched around them for seven days."

Heh. That was awesome.

Here's a semi-embarrassing story, but it serves my point, so I'll tell it. Once, when I was probably nine or ten years old, I was in my bedroom reading before I went to sleep. My window was open, because our house didn't have air-conditioning, and the warm evening air was blowing in. And all at once, I heard a trumpet blast.

Being raised as I was, having already an established understanding that "we will all be changed, in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed..." (1 Corinthians 15:51-52). So... I was convinced that the moment all Christians for thousands of years have been waiting for had arrived. He was here! 

I leaped to my feet, raced to the window (forgetting momentarily that the time constraint of "eye twinkle" had passed), and watched the heavens...

Imagine my disappointment to hear the distant cheering of a crowd at our nearby high school less than a mile away -- where a football game was in progress -- and where the trumpet blast had originally sounded from. 

I laugh about it now, but there's something compelling and forewarning about the call of a trumpet, a shofar. When the final trumpet blows, do I want to be fortified, shut up in my tightly closed walls, against the King who is coming?

Or -- to bring it back to Rahab -- am I going to open up my heart and my faith and welcome the King with a shout of praise, for the Lord has given me the victory? 

To you... the same question.

Y'all, I can't wait for that trumpet blast. Next time, it won't be a football game.