The Big Bang Theory speculates (rather wildly) that all matter in the Universe was initially condensed in a small, very dense, hot sphere the size of a period at the end of this sentence (Hurd, et al., p. 61). Allegedly, that ball exploded and…. Butwait. To permit such outlandish speculation to proceed any further is to acquiesce to self-contradiction and illogic parading itself as “science.” We cannot grant, without a second thought, such wild assumptions.
Even if we were to grant, hypothetically, the possibility that matter could spontaneously generate (thus negating the 1st Law of Thermodynamics), or that matter could have existed forever (thus negating the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics) [NOTE: See Miller, 2007 for a discussion of the Laws of Thermodynamics and their application to the creation/evolution debate], there is yet another problem with the Big Bang Theory at the outset. How could all of the solid and liquid material in the Universe be compressed into one little ball? After all, one of the fundamental properties of most solids and liquids is that they cannot be compressed.
Indeed, both solids and liquids are virtually incompressible (Sonntag, 2003, p. 135). Thermal scientists operate on the certainty of this truth. We use the approximation that solids and liquids are “incompressible substances” to solve engineering problems, since such an assumption yields very low error. For example, Cengel, et al., point out that the density (the inverse of specific volume, which is volume per unit mass) of “solids and liquids essentially remain constant during a process” [e.g., the “big bang”—JM] (2008, p. 183, emp. added). Matter, by definition, is anything that has mass and takes up space. [NOTE: Technically, “antimatter” particles also contain mass and take up space (cf. Barnett and Quinn, 2002). However, the compression problem faced by the “big bang” theory is the same since antimatter, too, has mass and takes up space.] Did you catch that rather significant, even stubborn, little fact? Matter “takes up space.” The space-filling molecular particles that comprise the Universe could be compacted only so far. Even if the particles were originally arranged differently so that they formed different substances than we see today, all of the particles still had to be squeezed into a little period! But only so many sardines will fit into one can!
Is it reasonable to conclude that the 14,000+-foot-high Pikes Peak, composed of millions of tons of rock, dirt, and sand, could at one time have been condensed into a single boulder—let alone a dot? Or, consider trying to compress even a baseball-sized ball of liquid water into a period. It is an understatement to say that liquid water does not compress very well. Suggesting that the water may have been in vapor form will not help. Water vapor is an expanded form of liquid water that takes up even more space. Besides, compressing vapor only returns it to liquid water. “What about compressing water in its solid state?” That will not do, either. Liquid water, unlike most substances, expands when it freezes (i.e., it takes up more space). Besides, the alleged initial, miniature, cosmic “BB” was supposedly very hot. When one considers the vast amount of water on the Earth—glaciers, clouds, rivers (above and below the surface), lakes, streams, oceans, wells, springs, etc., it is unthinkable that it was once all crammed into a little sphere the size of a period. Even if you could postulate that the initial sphere was a neutron star (i.e., an immensely dense star), neutron stars that have only the mass of the sun crammed into them have a radius of some ten kilometers (Miller, 2008), a radius hardly small enough to fit inside a period. Besides that, Coleman Miller, Associate Professor in the Department of Astronomy at the University of Maryland explains that Einstein’s general theory of relativity and Kepler’s laws imply that there is an upper limit to how much mass can even be in a neutron star (i.e., 2.2 times our Sun’s mass, again coming nowhere near the mass of the entire Universe), and such neutron stars have radii around 17 kilometers. Black holes are problematic, also, since their radii increase as their mass increases, making them very large when they are filled with large quantities of mass (Miller, 2008).
With these simple illustrations in mind, try to imagine all of the mass in the whole Universe compressed into a dot the size of a period. The very idea is absurd, comical—and completely unscientific. Such a proposal lacks even basic rationality. Apparently, there’s no room for rationality in the scientific mind infected with atheistic “faith.” Indeed, rationality and atheistic faith are mutually exclusive.
REFERENCES
Barnett, R. Michael and Helen Quinn (2002), “What is Antimatter?” Scientific American, January 24, [On-line], URL: http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=what-is-antimatter-2002-01-24.
Cengel, Yunus A., Robert H. Turner, and John M. Cimbala (2008), Fundamentals of Thermal-Fluid Sciences (New York: McGraw-Hill), third edition.
Hurd, Dean, George Mathias, and Susan Johnson, eds. (1992), General Science: A Voyage of Discovery (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall).
Miller, Cole (2008), “Black Holes and Neutron Stars,” Department of Astronomy and Astrophysics, University of Chicago, [On-line], URL: http://www.astro.umd.edu/~miller/poster1.html.
Sonntag, Richard E., Claus Borgnakke, and Gordon J. Van Wylen (2003), Fundamentals of Thermodynamics (New York: John Wiley & Sons), sixth edition.
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Tel Balata, the site of ancient Shechem and modern-day Nablus, takes its name from the Hebrew word for “shoulder,” aptly describing its position nestled between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. This location, both strategic and symbolic, served as a pivotal crossroads for trade. Shechem’s verdant valley, sustained by abundant springs and streams, testifies to its natural richness. Situated at the meeting point of critical East-West and North-South trade routes, Shechem became more than just a geographical nexus; it was a theological crossroads where divine promises intersected with human history.
ABRAHAM AT SHECHEM
The Bible introduces Shechem in Genesis 12 with an aura of profound promise and significance. It was the first place Abraham entered upon arriving in the land God had destined for him (ca. 1875 B.C.), and it was here that God appeared to him for the first time in a vision:
Abram passed through the land to the place at Shechem, to the oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. Then the LORD appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built there an altar to the LORD, who had appeared to him (Genesis 12:6-7).
This encounter between Abraham and Shechem resonates as deeply as the moment when a groom carries his bride across the threshold, marking the beginning of a new and transformative chapter. Standing on the fertile plain between two mountains, God assured Abraham, “To your seed I will give this land,” turning a vision into a concrete reality. This moment inaugurated the enduring relationship between Abraham’s family and the land of Canaan, setting the stage for Shechem to be remembered as a place of covenant, redemption, and divine promise.
The tree of Moreh may have been a gathering place for the local Canaanite population, possibly used for communal decision-making, worship, or oracular consultations. Yet, as Abram stood beneath its shade, the tree was transformed. What may have been a place of pagan ritual or human deliberation became a site where the true God appeared and revealed His covenant. The Hebrew name Moreh (מוֹרֶה) is derived from a root meaning “to teach” or “to instruct.” This suggests that the tree was more than a geographical landmark—it was a site of revelation and guidance. As Abram journeyed through the land God had promised, his arrival at Shechem, by the great tree of Moreh seems imbued with meaning, as though the tree were a symbol of divine teaching, preparing Abram to receive the promise that would shape the destiny of his descendants. Abram’s decision to build an altar here was no coincidence. His act reclaimed a site most certainly tied to Canaanite worship and reoriented it toward Yahweh, marking it as a place where God appeared and made His covenantal promises known.
Archaeology of Shechem and Abraham’s Sojourn
The earliest non-biblical written reference to Shechem dates to the Middle Bronze Age. It appears on a stele—a standing stone—belonging to Khu-Sebek, an Egyptian nobleman serving in the court of a pharaoh. Discovered in 1901 at Abydos, Egypt by archaeologist John Garstang, the stele describes a military campaign in a foreign region referred to as “Sekmem,” widely identified as Shechem. According to the inscription, “Sekmem fell,” indicating a successful Egyptian campaign in the area.1
Though the Khu-Sebek Stele does not explicitly name the Pharaoh under whom Khu-Sebek served, if it was Sesostris III/Senusret III (ca. 1880-1840 B.C.) or his successor Amenemhat III,2 this timeframe is consistent with Abraham’s potential journey to Egypt (ca. 1851 B.C.) and his interactions with Shechem (ca. 1875 B.C.) (using the High Chronology).3 This timeline reinforces the idea that Shechem was already a strategically important location, attracting the attention of both local patriarchs like Abraham and powerful empires like Egypt, as early as the 19th century B.C.
Though some, like Edward Campbell,4 argue that Shechem was not an established city during Abraham’s life, archaeological excavations at Shechem indicate that urbanization began during the Middle Bronze Age I (Levels XXII-XXI; ca. 1900-1750 B.C.).5 This timeframe coincides with the period when Abraham arrives (ca. 1875 B.C.). Prior to the arrival of Abraham there may or may not have been fortification walls at Shechem, but in either event, Shechem was populated and constituted a settlement.
JACOB AT SHECHEM
Around 200 years later (ca. 1700 B.C.), the Bible records that Jacob, Abraham’s grandson, “camped within sight of the city” (Genesis 33:18). While the biblical account does not explicitly describe Shechem as fortified during Abraham’s time, it had undoubtedly grown into a significant settlement by the time Jacob arrived. In Genesis 33:20, Jacob built his own altar at Shechem, calling it “El Elohe Israel” (“God, the God of Israel”) and reaffirming the covenantal legacy tied to this sacred location. Jacob’s actions suggest he was aware of the sacred history of the site, where his grandfather Abraham had built an altar.
Here, Jacob also demonstrated the exclusivity of Israel’s worship of Yahweh when he gathered all the idols and pagan items still hidden within his household and buried them “underneath the elah tree6 in Shechem” (Genesis 35:4). Instead of destroying these objects, he chose to inter them, seemingly to desecrate the very foundation of this city marked by betrayal and ruin. This act of purifying his household symbolized a rejection of idolatry and recommitment to the God of his fathers, a profound statement against the corruption of Shechem and the polytheistic practices of the surrounding Canaanite culture.
JOSHUA AT SHECHEM
Shechem’s significance does not end with Abraham and Jacob. Centuries later, it would become a place of covenant renewal. Following Moses’ instructions (Deuteronomy 11:29-32; 27), the Israelites journeyed to Shechem shortly after entering the Promised Land.7 In Joshua 8, Israel gathered at Shechem to affirm their commitment to Yahweh, standing in the valley between Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal, the mountains of blessing and cursing. There, they renewed their covenant with God, redefining and deepening their commitment to the divine relationship. This covenant was both profound and perilous, marking a collective acceptance of mutual accountability within Israel. After crossing the Jordan and enacting the covenant of Blessings and Curses at Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal, the nation became responsible for one another’s actions.
The geography of Shechem reinforced the solemnity of this covenant. The two mountains flanking the plain created a natural setting reminiscent of the halved animals in the Covenant of the Pieces (Genesis 15), where divine fire and smoke passed between the sacrifices. Despite the modest heights of Mount Ebal (3,083 ft.) and Mount Gerizim (2,890 ft.), their unique acoustics make it possible for voices spoken on the slopes to be heard clearly in the valley below. This natural amphitheater likely amplified the voices of Joshua and the Israelites when they proclaimed the Law from these mountains.
This covenant ceremony inverted the imagery of Sinai. Instead of standing at the base of Mount Sinai looking upward toward God’s revelation, the tribes of Israel were divided between Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal, gazing down at the Ark of the Covenant positioned in Shechem’s plain below. This arrangement accentuated the nation’s unity and shared obligations as they stood over the Ark and the ancient city of Shechem—a place steeped in divine promise. This ceremony completed the circle Abraham began, connecting the nation’s origins to its new role in the Promised Land.
The Book of Joshua also highlights the inclusive nature of this gathering, noting that “all Israel, aliens and citizens alike” were present to hear the words of the Law (Joshua 8:33,35). The Hebrew word for “aliens” (gerim) refers to non-Israelites who lived among the people of Israel. These individuals were often foreigners who had joined the Israelite community, possibly because of their belief in Yahweh or because of practical circumstances (e.g., Rahab, Ruth the Moabite).
Based on an early Exodus date of 1446 B.C., this event would have occurred around 1406 B.C. during the Late Bronze IB period, corresponding to Level XIV at Tell Balata.8 Archaeological evidence shows Shechem’s earlier destruction around 1540 B.C., likely by the Egyptian armies of Ahmose I or Amenhotep I, with subsequent rebuilding beginning around 1450 B.C. The reconstructed city at Level XIV featured fortifications, residential structures, and a fortress-like temple, representing the Shechem where Joshua read the Law to the Israelites and the local population.
Later, Joshua assembled the Israelites at Shechem a second time to renew their covenant with God, urging them to reaffirm their commitment to serve Him:
And Joshua wrote these words in the Book of the Law of God. And he took a large stone and set it up there under the terebinth that was by the sanctuary of the Lord. And Joshua said to all the people, “Behold, this stone shall be a witness against us, for it has heard all the words of the Lord that he spoke to us. Therefore it shall be a witness against you, lest you deal falsely with your God.”So Joshua sent the people away, every man to his inheritance (Joshua 24:26-28).
The connection to Abram’s experience under the tree of Moreh (the terebinth) is unmistakable—Shechem had been, and would continue to be, a place where God instructed His people and invited them into covenantal relationship. With unmistakable symbolism, Joshua mounted a stone, a symbol of the covenant with God, in the very same place that Jacob had interred the family idols, centuries earlier. Thus, this ceremony reiterated God’s promises to Abraham (Genesis 12:7; 17:7-8), Jacob, and Israel through the covenant at Sinai (Exodus 24:8), tying Shechem’s history of covenant renewal to the larger biblical narrative of faith and divine promise.
Was the symbolic stone meant to counter the idols? To cancel them? To remind Israel that idolatry dogged them from their very inception as a people, and they must always be on guard against it? We cannot know—we do not even know if Joshua knew of the buried idols—but we do feel the weight of both of those legacies echoed in the same place.
JOSEPH BURIED AT SHECHEM
The Bible next highlights Shechem as the site where Joseph’s burial fulfilled a long-held promise. Before his death in Egypt, Joseph made his brothers swear to return his body to the land God had promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob after Israel’s deliverance from Egypt (Genesis 50:24-25). True to his request, Joseph’s remains were eventually interred at Shechem in the land Jacob had purchased from the sons of Hamor for one hundred pieces of silver. This land was designated as the inheritance of Joseph’s descendants (Joshua 24:32).
Shechem held profound significance for Joseph, both as part of his family’s covenantal legacy and as a site of personal transformation. It was the first land Jacob purchased in Canaan (Genesis 33:18-20), symbolizing his commitment to establishing a permanent presence in the Promised Land in accordance with God’s promises to Abraham (Genesis 12:6-7) and Isaac. By choosing to be buried at Shechem, Joseph anchored himself in this legacy, affirming his faith in God’s covenant and expressing confidence in Israel’s ultimate inheritance of the land. Joseph’s burial demonstrates his forward-looking hope, tying his personal story to the broader redemptive narrative of the Israelites’ eventual possession of Canaan.
At the same time, Shechem also bore a deeply personal significance for Joseph, as it was near the site where he was betrayed and sold into slavery by his brothers (Genesis 37:12-28).9 His choice of burial location may reflect a reconciliation with this painful chapter of his life, transforming a place of treachery into one of covenantal fulfillment and divine restoration. Joseph’s burial in Shechem may in some way symbolize a redemptive act, reclaiming a space once associated with betrayal as a testament to God’s providence. This decision would convey Joseph’s theological understanding of suffering and redemption, encapsulated in his declaration that what his brothers intended for harm, God used for good (Genesis 50:20). In this way, Shechem becomes both a personal and theological statement of faith, serving as a bridge between Joseph’s story of forgiveness and the enduring promises of God to His people.
The burial of Joseph at Shechem clearly implies a peaceful relationship between the Israelites and the inhabitants of the region during this time. The land at Shechem, originally purchased by Jacob and willed to Joseph (Genesis 48:22), likely passed to Joseph’s son, Manasseh. This inheritance may explain why the tribes of Manasseh and Ephraim settled in the area surrounding Shechem (Joshua 16-17). The absence of military activity within their allotted territory during the period of consolidation following the Conquest further underscores this harmonious coexistence. Instead, their campaigns focused on areas at the borders of their inheritance, such as Bethel (Judges 1:22-29,35). This evidence points to a significant period of stability and cooperation between the Israelites and Shechem’s inhabitants.
THE CALAMITY OF SHECHEM
While Shechem is a place marked by covenant renewal, it was also a site of profound calamity. Dinah was violated within its boundaries,10 and as previously noted, Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers on its outskirts. This juxtaposition of covenant and catastrophe underscores Shechem’s theological significance. It is a place where divine promises are proclaimed and human failures are exposed—a microcosm of the tension between God’s faithfulness and human frailty. Each of Shechem’s tragic stories begins with hope, yet spirals into rupture, reflecting the fragility of human relationships and the consequences of moral and spiritual disobedience. Still, its enduring association with covenant renewal suggests that even in the midst of calamity, Shechem remains a witness to God’s unwavering commitment to His people and His ability to bring redemption from ruin.
Shechem in the Judges Period
Shechem’s history of calamity reaches another dark chapter with the story of Abimelech, a figure whose ambition and treachery corrupted the land of promise. After the death of Gideon, Abimelech manipulated his Shechemite heritage to gain the trust of the city’s leaders, using funds from the temple of Baal-Berith to consolidate his power.11 His name, meaning “My Father is King,” reflected his ruthless pursuit of authority, culminating in the brutal murder of his seventy brothers to eliminate rivals and secure his dominion (Judges 9:1-6).
Abimelech’s rule, however, was built on a foundation of betrayal and bloodshed, and his leadership quickly descended into chaos. When the people of Shechem turned against him, Abimelech’s response was catastrophic. He razed the city, slaughtered its inhabitants, and burned alive those who sought refuge in the temple of Baal-Berith—a site that had already become a symbol of idolatry and desecration (Judges 9:46-49). His violent end, crushed beneath a millstone dropped by a woman, fulfilled Jotham’s prophetic curse and underscored God’s judgment on his corruption and tyranny (Judges 9:53-57).
Archaeologists, including Edward Campbell, Benjamin Mazar, George Earnest Wright, and Lawrence Stager, identify the “tower of Shechem” mentioned in Judges 9 as the Fortress-TempleorTower Templeof Shechem.12 This massive Canaanite structure, excavated by Wright in 1926 and later reexamined by Stager, is known as “Temple 1.” Measuring 70 feet (21 meters) wide and 86 feet (26 meters) long, with foundation walls 17 feet (5.1 meters) thick, it is the largest Canaanite temple discovered in Israel. The structure featured a multistory mudbrick and timber superstructure with a grand entrance flanked by two towers. Stager proposed that its courtyard may have been the site where Joshua set up a large stone under the oak near the holy place of the Lord (Joshua 24:26). The destruction of this Fortress-Temple is dated to approximately 1100 B.C., consistent with Level XI at Shechem and correlated with the events described in Judges 9.13 Campbell cautiously supports this connection, noting that the archaeological evidence aligns plausibly with the biblical narrative of Abimelech’s attack.14
Shechem in the United Kingdom
Later, in the period of the divided monarchy, Rehoboam’s ill-fated attempt to assert his rule in Shechem ended in humiliation and the fracturing of his kingdom. His harsh demands were rejected, and he fled to Jerusalem, leaving behind a shattered monarchy and the seeds of national division (1 Kings 12:16).
Afterwards, Jeroboam made Shechem the capital of the northern kingdom (1 Kings 12:25). Its central location and historical importance made it a natural choice for political power, but Jeroboam’s actions quickly turned Shechem into a center of apostasy. Jeroboam established rival worship centers in Bethel and Dan, erecting golden calves to prevent his people from worshiping in Jerusalem. His use of Shechem as a political base emphasizes how human ambition continually corrupts places of divine significance. What had been a city of covenant renewal became a launching point for spiritual rebellion.
Archaeological evidence from Levels X and IX at Tell Balata reflect the period of Jeroboam I (920–810 B.C.), during which the city was rebuilt and elevated to prominence. Carefully constructed stone houses with foundations for stairs suggest the prosperity and architectural advancements of this time, consistent with the biblical account of Jeroboam fortifying Shechem (1 Kings 12:25). Yet, even this period of restoration could not shield Shechem from the consequences of disobedience.
God’s judgment came swiftly with the Assyrian invasion of 724 B.C. (2 Kings 17:5-6)15. Level VII reveals the city’s devastation, reduced to rubble and ash by the invading forces. The thoroughness of the destruction, described as “a heap of ruins” covered in burned beams and collapsed brickwork, is a sobering reminder of the fate that awaited those who turned away from God’s covenant.16 Following the destruction, the Assyrians repopulated the area with exiled peoples, who merged their own beliefs with a form of Yahwistic worship (2 Kings 17:23-24). This syncretism gave rise to the Samaritans, a community whose worship centered on Mount Gerizim and mirrored elements of Judaism. Even in the New Testament, the Samaritans’ distinct religious identity is highlighted (Luke 9:52; John 4:7-22; Acts 8:25), underscoring the long-lasting consequences of Israel’s apostasy.
Shechem’s layered history demonstrates how a site so intertwined with God’s covenant and acts of divine revelation could still fall victim to ruin due to the disobedience of its people. Its rise and fall serve as a solemn reminder that no place, regardless of its past sanctity, is immune to judgment when God’s commands are forsaken. Yet, the survival of the Samaritan community on Mount Gerizim reflects God’s ongoing narrative of redemption, even amid human failure.
SHECHEM IN THE INTER-BIBLICAL PERIOD
During the Hellenistic period (ca. 330-107 B.C.), Shechem experienced a modest revival, marked by the construction of significant buildings and the establishment of a large Samaritan temple and sacrificial platform on Mount Gerizim. This temple, whose remnants were visible during Jesus’ time (John 4:20), became central to Samaritan worship. However, the ongoing conflict between the Ptolemies and Seleucids brought decline to Shechem, culminating in its destruction by John Hyrcanus around 126 B.C. Hyrcanus razed the Samaritan temple and leveled Shechem by 107 B.C., leaving the city in ruins until its identification in A.D. 1901.
In the Roman period, Samaritans continued to inhabit the region. Archaeological evidence, such as burials on Mount Ebal, confirms their presence.17 Although the Samaritans attempted to restore their cult worship on Mount Gerizim, the Romans suppressed these efforts and, in A.D. 72, constructed a new city, Flavia-Neapolis, about one mile west of Tell Balata. This Roman city, later known as Nablus, remains a thriving urban center.
JESUS AT SHECHEM
Centuries after Abraham, Jacob, and Joshua, Jesus sat at Jacob’s well near Shechem, now called Sychar. The well’s location at the base of Mount Gerizim, southeast of Tell Balata, is historically significant, as it lies at a crossroads connecting Jerusalem to the Jordan Valley and Galilee. While not mentioned in the Old Testament, its authenticity is supported by Jewish, Samaritan, Christian, and Muslim traditions.18 Today, the well lies beneath a Greek Orthodox church, accessible via steps from the apse.
This setting provides the backdrop for Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman in John 4, where He declared Himself the Messiah. This moment, rich with theological depth, connects the old covenant to the new. The well, dug by Jacob in the land he had purchased, symbolizes God’s provision. But Jesus points to a deeper fulfillment, where worship is no longer tied to a mountain, temple, or city, but to spirit and truth.
The Samaritan woman’s presence at the well reflects Shechem’s fractured history. Her ancestors, the Samaritans, worshiped on Mount Gerizim, a site they regarded as holy. This division between Jews and Samaritans, rooted in centuries of conflict, is healed through Jesus’ words. In Him, the promises first made to Abraham are fulfilled—not just for one people, but for all nations.
The story of Jesus sitting at Jacob’s Well constitutes perhaps a redeeming moment for the city’s legacy, transforming it from a place of division and idolatry into a symbol of restoration and hope. Jesus’ conversation with the woman transcends the geographic and ethnic divides that had fractured the region for centuries. In offering her living water, He inaugurates a new covenant—one that fulfills God’s promises to Abraham and extends grace to all humanity. This profound moment, at a site steeped in historical and theological resonance, underscores Shechem’s enduring role as a place of divine encounter and revelation.
CONCLUSION: SHECHEM AS A MICROCOSM OF REDEMPTION
Shechem, with its fertile valleys and towering mountains, is a place of profound beauty and deep spiritual significance. Shechem’s position between Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal serves as a physical manifestation of the covenant blessings and curses God gave Israel in Deuteronomy 27-28. The visual power of these two mountains underscores the weight of the decision Israel faced in this place. This dramatic moment reinforces the binary choice God presents to His people: obedience leading to life and blessing, or rebellion leading to death and curse. It is a choice that echoes through the Scriptures, from Joshua’s declaration to “choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15) to Jesus’ invitation to worship in spirit and truth at Jacob’s well.
But Shechem’s history also reveals humanity’s tendency to corrupt what God has declared holy. What should have been a city of promise and reconciliation became infamous for its association with conflict and catastrophe. In Shechem, the tension between divine promise and human failure is written into its very soil, a tragic emblem of Israel’s fractured history.
Yet, through the brokenness, Shechem points to the faithfulness of God. It is also a place of hope—a hope fulfilled in Jesus Christ, who offers living water to a thirsty world. Shechem is a reminder of the unshakable nature of God’s promises, His grace, and His covenantal love.19
At Shechem, God validated His covenant with Abraham, promising to bear the consequences of its violation Himself. At Calvary, He fulfilled that promise in Jesus Christ, taking on the sin of humanity and walking the path of sacrifice that no one else could endure. Shechem is not just a city of the past; it is a testament to the God who walks with His people, through valleys of promise and ruin, and leads them into redemption.
ENDNOTES
1 Lawrence E. Toombs (1992), “Shechem,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David N. Freedman (New York: Doubleday), 5:1179.
2 Scarabs bearing Amenemhat III’s cartouche have been found at Canaanite sites, such as Gezer and Megiddo, indicating Egyptian presence and interaction. See E.D. Oren (1984), The Role of the Sea Peoples in Canaanite History: Studies in the Archaeology of the Late Bronze Age.
3 The High chronology argues that the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1550) ended in roughly 1200 B.C., the Iron Age I lasted from 1200-1000 BC, and the Iron Age IIA from 1000 BC through Shoshenq I’s invasion of the southern Levant. See T.E. Levy and T.F.G. Higham, eds. (2005), “Introduction: Radiocarbon dating and the Iron Age of the Southern Levant: Problems and potentials for the Oxford conference,” in The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science (London: Equinox).
4 Edward F. Campbell (1993), “Shechem,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. Ephraim Stern (New York: Simon & Schuster), 4:1347.
6 The Elah tree is generally associated with the Quercus calliprinos, or the Palestine Oak. The Hebrew word אֵלָה (Elah) is also sometimes translated as “terebinth,” which leads to overlap in biblical interpretations. This tree is robust and evergreen, common in the highlands of Israel, and often symbolizes strength and endurance.
7 The journey to Shechem took the Israelites through the central hill country, an area they had yet to conquer. Remarkably, women and children participated in this peaceful trek, emphasizing its non-military nature (Joshua 8:35). This event was not a spontaneous act but a fulfillment of Moses’ earlier instructions to the Israelites (Deuteronomy 11:29-30; 27:4-13; Joshua 8:33). The Shechem gathering was clearly preordained, planned long before the Israelites entered the Promised Land or initiated any military campaigns in Canaan.
9 Dothan, where Joseph was sold into slavery (Genesis 37:17-28), is located approximately 13 miles north of Shechem in a fertile plain along ancient trade routes. Its proximity to Shechem highlights the trajectory of Joseph’s journey and its connection to significant biblical events at both sites.
10 The rape of Dinah is recounted in Genesis 34:1–2, where Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, takes and violates Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah, while she visits the local women.
11 Baal-Berith, meaning “Lord of the Covenant,” was a Canaanite deity worshiped in Shechem, as referenced in Judges 8:33 and Judges 9:4. Archaeological findings at Shechem, including a large temple (Temple 1) identified as the “Temple of Baal-Berith,” support its role as a center of worship.
12 Campbell, 4:1345-54; Lawrence E. Stager (2003), “The Shechem Temple where Abimelech Massacred a Thousand,” Biblical Archaeological Review, 28[4]:26-35,68-69.
13 Stager, 28[4]:26-35,68-69; Joe D. Seger (1997), “Shechem,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East 5, ed. Eric M. Myers (New York: Oxford University Press), 5:19-23.
15 Shechem was likely destroyed by the Assyrians in 724-721 B.C., around the time Samaria, the capital of the northern kingdom of Israel, fell to the Assyrian king Shalmaneser V (completed under Sargon II; 2 Kings 17:5-6). This marked the eradication of the northern tribes of Israel and their exile, coinciding with Assyria’s broader campaign of conquest and resettlement.
17 Itzhak Magen (1993), “Neapolis,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. Ephraim Stern (New York: Simon & Schuster), 4:1354-59.
18 Zdravko Stefanovic (1992), “Jacob’s Well,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David N. Freedman (New York: Doubleday), 3:608-609.
19 The concept of Hebrew covenantal love, often expressed by the term chesed (חֶסֶד), encapsulates God’s steadfast, loyal love and faithfulness to His covenant people. It implies a commitment that goes beyond obligation, rooted in mercy, grace, and enduring devotion. This term frequently appears in the Hebrew Bible, emphasizing God’s relational fidelity (e.g., Exodus 34:6-7; Psalm 136). Chesed also calls for reciprocal loyalty and love among God’s people, reflecting their covenant relationship with Him.
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The Apparently “Self-Righteous” Passages in Psalms
A number of psalms include professions of innocence, and these professions are not casual but prominent in the songs. The allegedly innocent party is the particular worshiper (Psalms 7; 17; 26), the king (Psalm 18), and the whole community (Psalm 44). These passages can strike the reader as silly (“I am a victim of circumstance!”), as self-deceiving (contrary to Prov. 20:9; Eccles. 7:20, 29), as portraying an unattainable level of perfection, or as something more sinister—a kind of repulsive bombast and self-promotion (e.g., Luke 18:9–14).1
A better approach is to begin with the meaning of such words as “righteous” in the Psalter. When applied to members of Israel, the terms “righteous” and “righteousness” can be used in several ways.2 First, the terms can be applied to the whole people, who have the covenantal revelation of the righteous Creator (Hab. 1:13), as opposed to the Gentiles, who do not. Second, it can be applied to those members of the people who embrace the covenant from the heart, who have sincere faith and seek to please the Lord in their conduct and character (Deut. 6:25; 24:13; Isa. 1:21, 26; 5:7; Hab. 2:4; Zeph. 2:3; Mal. 3:3). This second usage appears often in the Psalms (e.g., Pss. 7:8; 37:16–17), which also make clear that these “righteous” are people who readily confess their sins (Ps. 32:11). A third usage is for persons among the faithful who are especially noteworthy for their healthy role in the community and are therefore worthy of honor and imitation (a good king, Ps. 18:20, 24; ordinary folk, Pss. 37:30; 112:3–4, 6, 9). And finally, the words can be applied to the innocent party in a dispute (e.g., Gen. 38:26; 44:16 [“clear” = “make righteous”]; Ex. 23:7; Deut. 25:1) and hardly claims moral perfection.
We can also find the complementary phenomenon with negative terms, such as “wicked,” “sinner,” and “fool.” These words can denote those who are not God’s people, the unfaithful within Israel, or those whose impiety leads to distinctively evil behavior.
We discern which sense is present in a given text by way of the contrasts in view. As C. S. Lewis put it, “The best clue is to ask oneself in each instance what is the implied opposite.”3 Further, different psalms focus on different oppositions. For example, some of these are individual laments, well suited for a worshiping congregation with a member under threat from “enemies” using false accusations to harm the faithful person (Psalms 7; 17; 26). In these cases “we need therefore by no means assume that the Psalmists are deceived or lying when they assert that, as against their particular enemies at some particular moment, they are completely in the right.”4 To use these psalms in such instances allows the congregation to rally around its unjustly accused brethren and also reinforces its commitment to love the virtues and hate the vices depicted in these texts and to honor those who display these virtues.
Psalm 18, by contrast, is especially about the ideal for the Davidic kingship. A congregation could use it to foster the community’s shared yearning that its king would embody these ideals, which would lead to prayer that the current king would indeed embody them. Christians profess that Jesus, as the ultimate heir of David, does in fact embody the ideals and is therefore worthy of admiration and imitation (John 13:15–16; 1 Cor. 11:1; Eph. 5:1; 1 Thess. 1:6; Phil. 2:5).
It bears repeating: to use these psalms well requires careful and bold pastoral leadership. Self-identification as an innocent sufferer is neither healthy nor invited!
Psalm 7
O Lord my God, if I have done this, if there is wrong in my hands, if I have repaid my friend with evil or plundered my enemy without cause, let the enemy pursue my soul and overtake it, and let him trample my life to the ground and lay my glory in the dust. (Ps. 7:3–5)
Psalm 7 is an individual lament from David. The title refers to an otherwise unknown incident in the life of David on which a man of Benjamin (the tribe of Saul) said some “words”; from the content of the psalm we may infer that these words were slanderous. Hence the situation shows us how to understand the claims of innocence here (Ps. 7:3–4, 8): the innocence is relative to the accusations being made, rather than absolute. Hence this psalm provides a vehicle by which people may call to God for help when they are unfairly criticized or persecuted.
The first movement of the psalm professes the singer’s innocence: the person singing this in good faith claims not to have betrayed the trust that should bind the people of God together.
Observe how the general expression in Psalm 7:3 (“wrong in my hands”) finds closer clarification in verse 4 (“repaid my friend with evil,” “plundered my enemy without cause”). That is, the specific wrongdoing in view concerns the social connections between the fellow members of God’s people. The Sinai covenant established Israel as (ideally, anyhow) God’s new humanity, whose relationships are to show forth true humanness for all the Gentiles to see. Hence often in both the Psalms and the Prophets the sins denounced are “social,” for the ethic assumed throughout the Bible prizes a peaceful and loving community.
This psalm is suited only for those cases in which the danger stems from the malice of the persecutors, not from the wrongdoing of the person in trouble. Thus verse 5 offers a prayer of self-malediction: “If I am guilty of the things of which I am accused, then let my enemy succeed.” A person who cannot make the claim of verses 3–4 in good faith ought not sing this! Hence this serves as an implicit warning that those who commit the evils listed here ought, rather than using this psalm to ask for God’s help, to begin with confession of sin (i.e., a different song, such as Psalm 6).
Psalm 17
You have tried my heart, you have visited me by night, you have tested me, and you will find nothing; I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress. With regard to the works of man, by the word of your lips I have avoided the ways of the violent. My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. (Ps. 17:3-5)
Like Psalm 7, this psalm provides a prayer for supporting members of the faithful who face persecution in the form of false accusations.
Professions of innocence such as we find here, and in Psalms 7; 17; 26, can trouble sensitive Christians. C. S. Lewis wisely observes an important distinction “between the conviction that one is in the right [about the particular issue of the accusations] and the conviction that one is ‘righteous.’”5 Lewis, however, was not sure that the psalmists themselves always preserve this distinction. I certainly support Lewis’s spiritual concern to protect Christians against self-righteousness, but I do not think he has seen the particular psalms in the proper light. First, Lewis himself rightly saw that the Psalms are songs for worship,6 but he did not consistently apply that observation in his discussions. Since they are songs, they are used under the pastoral guidance of the personnel who choose them, each one in the spiritual context of all the others.
A pastorally wise form of prayer for such circumstances must both caution the faithful to be sure they really are innocent and also warn the unfaithful of what awaits them unless they repent — and this song does just that. Further, in professing innocence it reinforces the feelings of approval for the kind of social relationships for which God called Israel from the start.
Indeed, by the way this psalm closes, it equips the faithful to trust God in their trials, ready to await their own eternal reward for their full and final vindication (and hence it strengthens them to resist the temptation to forfeit that vindication by turning to unfaithfulness).
Psalm 26
I do not sit with men of falsehood, nor do I consort with hypocrites. I hate the assembly of evildoers, and I will not sit with the wicked. I wash my hands in innocence and go around your altar, O LORD, proclaiming thanksgiving aloud, and telling all your wondrous deeds. O LORD, I love the habitation of your house and the place where your glory dwells. (Ps. 26:4–8)
Some have taken the claims of innocence here as a kind of self-righteous boasting, but, as already argued on Psalm 7 and Psalm 17, this is a mistake. First, the mention of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness (Ps. 26:3), a clear echo of Exodus 34:6, shows that divine grace is the foundation for holy living. Second, the references to worship in God’s house (Ps. 26:6–8) indicate that the covenantal means of grace, with their focus on atonement and forgiveness, are in view. And third, singing this psalm serves to enable worshipers more and more to like and embrace the ideal of faithful covenant membership—but it does not make achieving that ideal a precondition for true worship.
Like Psalm 7 and Psalm 17, this psalm has worshipers singing to profess integrity in their lives; like the case for those psalms, it would be an easy mistake to suppose that this is self-righteous braggadocio. Pastoral wisdom would have been called for on the part of the priests arranging and leading the worship.
But also like Psalm 7 and Psalm 17, one crucial function of singing a song like this one is to set the virtues as the ideal toward which the faithful will more readily give themselves the more honestly they sing the words. The integrity that it praises covers both observable deeds and one’s invisible inner life, actions and feelings.
A similar situation faces Christians as they read, say, 1 John, with its various terms for genuine believers (those who keep God’s word, abide in God, have been born of God, etc.), and its variety of expressions for what they do (walk as Jesus walked, confess their sins, love their brethren, listen to the apostles, etc.).7 Extensive discussions have pondered what these assertions in 1 John mean, but certainly they do not claim sinless perfection, as 1 John 1:9; 2:1 make clear. Better is the idea that the statements using the present form of the verb describe the prevailing practices of the faithful—as over against particular lapses, for which the aorist would be normal. Nevertheless, I think that, in view of the disputative context (a group of false teachers have left; 1 John 2:18–19), the author’s goals recognize that those who remain true to the apostles must be regrounded in their identity. They must learn to say, “This is what we do.”
It would probably be going too far to see the violations of the approved way of life in the Psalms and in 1 John as disqualifications for membership; rather, the grace of God sets a person on the path of faithfulness by equipping him or her with the proper likes and dislikes. The affirmations of positive virtues enable the congregation to feel their own approval of those virtues, and the denunciations of vices enable them to feel their own disapproval of those vices.
This is the life Christians admire, this is the kind of people we want to be. This is our graciously given identity, and as a body we support and nourish in one another the aspiration to be good as we simultaneously create a safe environment for those who are not yet very good at being good.
Notes:
A helpful resource is Gert Kwakkel, ‘According to My Righteousness’: Upright Behaviour as Grounds for Deliverance in Psalms 7, 17, 18, 26 and 44 (Leiden: Brill, 2002).
I leave out “righteousness” as “deserving” (Deut. 9:4–6) as having no bearing on this discussion.
C.S. Lewis, Studies in Words (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,1967), 43.
C.S. Lewis, Reflection on the Psalms,18. Unfortunately Lewis, lacking the kind of social analysis given here (and not following his own principle about the Psalms as hymnody), attributes a kind of self-righteousness not simply to abuse of these psalms but even to the psalms themselves.
Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, 17.
“What must be said, however, is that the Psalms are poems, and poems intended to be sung: not doctrinal treatises, nor even sermons.” Kirkpatrick, Book of Psalms , 1:2.
I have given an analysis of some of the literary and linguistic features in C. John Collins, “What the Reader Wants and the Translator Can Give: 1 John as a Test Case,” in Translating Truth (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2005), 77–111, esp. 94–105.
Or, consider trying to compress even a baseball-sized ball of liquid water into a period. It is an understatement to say that liquid water does not compress very well. Suggesting that the water may have been in vapor form will not help. Water vapor is an expanded form of liquid water that takes up even more space. Besides, compressing vapor only returns it to liquid water. “What about compressing water in its solid state?” That will not do, either. Liquid water, unlike most substances, expands when it freezes (i.e., it takes up more space). Besides, the alleged initial, miniature, cosmic “BB” was supposedly very hot. When one considers the vast amount of water on the Earth—glaciers, clouds, rivers (above and below the surface), lakes, streams, oceans, wells, springs, etc., it is unthinkable that it was once all crammed into a little sphere the size of a period. Even if you could postulate that the initial sphere was a neutron star (i.e., an immensely dense star), neutron stars that have only the mass of the sun crammed into them have a radius of some ten kilometers (Miller, 2008), a radius hardly small enough to fit inside a period. Besides that, Coleman Miller, Associate Professor in the Department of Astronomy at the University of Maryland explains that Einstein’s general theory of relativity and Kepler’s laws imply that there is an upper limit to how much mass can even be in a neutron star (i.e., 2.2 times our Sun’s mass, again coming nowhere near the mass of the entire Universe), and such neutron stars have radii around 17 kilometers. Black holes are problematic, also, since their radii increase as their mass increases, making them very large when they are filled with large quantities of mass (Miller, 2008).
