Rahab’s Resilience
Becoming a mother changed me in more ways than I was prepared for. It changed how I sleep (i.e. I don’t). It changed how I plan and order my days (playground stops during errand running are now a must). I suppose I knew some of these changes were coming, but one I did not anticipate was the transformation that would take place in how I read scripture. As a woman, I have always been drawn to female characters throughout the biblical story, but on becoming a mom, I felt my understanding of these women and their stories expand immensely. Suddenly I am drawn into their lived experience as mothers in ways I never have been before.
During this season of motherhood, I have also been completing my doctorate, studying the intersection of trauma theory and theology to understand collective trauma within the church. This endeavor has also transformed how I read scripture, shedding light on the great amount of trauma experienced by so many biblical characters. Both becoming a mother and growing in my understanding of trauma have reminded me that the Bible truly is alive and breathing, that it is the active word of God. Regardless of how many times we read its pages, it is always able to reveal more to us about the God we serve and his relationship to the world he loves. The other day, my newfound motherhood and trauma awareness collided as I was reading the genealogy of Jesus found in Matthew 1. In this moment I was once again reminded that God has been bringing about healing within people and families since the beginning of time and that he can continue to do so even now.
There was one particular family, well, one particular mother and son duo, to whom my mind was drawn while reading this litany of names provided by Matthew. It was not customary for women to be mentioned in genealogies, the mother’s names all but forgotten in the highly patriarchal society, yet Matthew includes mention of four women: Tamar, Rahab, the wife of Uriah (Bathsheba), and Mary (mother of Jesus). Each of these women deserve a blog of their own, but for now I want to pay attention to Rahab, her trauma, and the son that she raised.
When we meet Rahab in Joshua 2 she is described to us as a prostitute. We meet her because the two spies from Israel stop at her house while assessing the strength of her home city Jericho so they might conquer it. There is much that could be speculated about this encounter, we are told nothing about why these two men stopped at her home or why they stayed the night, we do know, however, that Rahab is admittedly already terrified of them and of all of Israel. She has heard stories of the lands and people they have conquered and these stories have given her a faith in the Lord that dwarfs the faith often held by the people of Israel. She repeatedly declares Yahweh to be Lord and has no doubt that he will deliver Jericho into the hands of his people. Her confidence in a foreign God of whom she has only heard stories is staggering. Both her faith and her fear compel her to bargain with the two spies for her life and that of her family. She risks her life to hide the spies, to ensure they make it out of the city safely, knowing all too well they will return to conquer this place she calls home, hoping they remain true to their word to spare her and her family. The spies do remain true to their word and Rahab and her family are spared, well, their lives are spared, their emotional and psychological wellbeing, their communal life and relationships, on the other hand, most likely suffered greatly. We are told in Joshua 6:25, “She (Rahab) lives in Israel to this very day because she hid the messengers Joshua sent to spy on Jericho.” So she lives. She lives amongst a people who destroyed her city, her community, the place she had called home. She watched her neighbors, friends, and others lose their lives in this violent overtaking. I can only imagine the trauma she experienced witnessing such an event. We know close to nothing about her existence in Israel. We do not know if she was welcomed by everyone or continued to be viewed with suspicion as an outsider. We do not know if she continued to be used and abused as a prostitute. The only information we are told about her life in Israel is that she and a man named Salmon had a son named Boaz and we learn that in Matthew 1. Though that is all we are told about her life in Israel, it truthfully tells us quite a bit, particularly because of how much we are told about the life of her son.
We first meet Boaz in Ruth 2 and are told that he is a wealthy and prominent man from the clan of Elimelech. No mention is made of his mother or father. Our first encounter with Boaz reveals him to be a kind and generous man. He extends much mercy and compassion to Ruth, a widow, a foreigner, a woman most likely carrying her own fair share of trauma. When Boaz sees Ruth gathering grain in his field and inquires as to who she is, the servant in charge emphasizes her foreign status in his description of her, she is a Moabite from Moab. Yet, Boaz does not seem influenced by her land of origin. Rather he sees a woman committed to protecting and caring for her family, a woman willing to live amongst a foreign people and serve their God, a woman willing to risk her life for the sake of others. I cannot help but wonder if in seeing Ruth, Boaz saw his mom? If he was reminded of his mother’s testimony, of her resilience in the face of adversity? If he remembered her witness to the truth that the compassion of Yahweh does not extend only to people of Israel but to all who have faith and put their trust in him? Did his ability to welcome Ruth with kindness come from the character of his mother? It seems to me that this behavior on the part of Boaz tells us much about how Rahab lived out her days among Israel.
In the world of trauma studies, there is a field of study called epigenetics. It refers to the transference of trauma through generations. It is a fascinating area of research and is bringing a greater depth of understanding into the long lasting impact of suffering. Resmaa Menakem provides powerful insight into the impact of generational trauma in his book, My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Our Bodies. Here he particularly describes the generational impact of racialized trauma. While this can be overwhelming for those who are seeking to heal from their own pain, fearful of passing it on to their children or grandchildren, Menakem’s book is a hopeful look at how healing can come. Though the majority of his text focuses on the ways in which bodies from generation to generation can bear the marks of trauma, he ends his book with the powerful image of the way resilience is also passed down. Though the impact of generational trauma should not be ignored, neither should the ability for parents and grandparents to pass on character traits that can help lead toward healing. This is what I see in Rahab.
Rahab lived through great amounts of suffering. We do not know if she experienced it as trauma, but it would not be surprising if she did. Yet, the characteristics we see in her son are ones of grace and kindness, resilience markers his mother displayed in the face of adversity. As a mother, this brings me great encouragement. Many of us are working to heal from trauma we experienced in our childhoods, or healing from the trauma our parents or grandparents experienced that we inherited. We long to break generational curses and patterns for the sake of our children and grandchildren. Sometimes this task feels daunting, and we wonder if it is possible. What I am reminded of as I reflect on the writings of Menakem regarding generational resiliency and the story of Rahab and Boaz, is that this longing is not new, and, through the grace and healing work of God, it is possible. Before Boaz could become the man who would welcome Ruth with a grace reflective of God’s, he needed his mom to tell him the story of how she received that grace. Before Boaz could demonstrate immense compassion to a foreigner, he needed to hear his mom’s story of how her faith in the Lord led her to risk her life to protect a couple of foreign spies. Though Boaz’ story receives far more attention in the biblical text, it is not only a testament to his character, but to the character of his mother who came before him.
So, to all the mothers and fathers seeking to heal trauma you inherited or experienced, remember Rahab. Allow yourself to rest in the grace of God and trust it to give you the resiliency you need to raise children who will be remembered not merely for their sufferings but for their strength. Yes, the impact of trauma is long lasting, yet we can have hope that the impact of far reaching compassion and kindness, born out of faith in our God, is stronger still.
